You Are Not Alone

Sam Tyler thought he was an ordinary guy. But when he meets the Doctor, he starts to question everything. To make things even more complicated, he's starting to fall for the Doctor! If only this annoying drumming would go away...

Chapter 1: The Companion, Volume 1

Notes:

Chapter based on "Rose" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: March 26, 2005 (1/5).

Chapter Text

Thank Sam Tyler had only gone down to the basement of Hunt's to turn in the day's income. He needed to get out of there quickly; he had a date scheduled with Annie tonight. He knocked impatiently on the door of Skelton's office, but there was no answer. Then, he heard a door slam.

What? The blondish-brunette in the black hoodie raced to the double doors at the end and tugged hard at the handles. But the doors didn't budge. "Are you kidding me?" he muttered in annoyance, but with a touch of panic in his voice. Would he be locked in overnight?

It was then that Sam heard a loud creak from behind him. He whipped his head around, but saw no one. "Is that someone mucking about?" he called, trying to sound composed. If there was someone down there, he really didn't need to let them know he was scared.

He was met with creepy silence. Sam took a few tentative steps forward. "Who is it?" he demanded. Sam looked around, but still saw no one. It was just him and the plastic mannequins the store had down here in storage (why did Hunt's need so many dummies anyway, he wondered). Still…Sam had the eerie feeling that he was being watched.

Over his shoulder, Sam heard another loud creak. He turned around again.

A dummy, wearing dark jeans and a black pinstripe shirt, standing in the corner, had turned its head. Its blank, terra cotta eyes were boring into him.

The dummy then began moving, walking toward him. Sam gave a nervous chuckle. "'Kay. You got me, very funny."

But the dummy kept coming. "Right, I've got the joke," he said, a bit louder this time. He backed away from the walking plastic. "Whose idea was this?" he called as more mannequins began slowly stalking him. "Is it Ray's? Is it? Ray, is this you?"

Sam tripped over a box. He picked himself up quickly. Now, most of the mannequins in the room were creeping toward him. This here, this is the stuff of nightmares, thought Sam, and felt his back press up against the concrete wall. Oh no.

The mannequins stopped. The dummy directly in front of him raised his arm, about to strike. Sam gasped and squeezed his eyes shut.

Suddenly, he felt someone take his hand. Someone human. Sam's eyes popped open and looked up at the owner of the hand.

"Run!" said the man.

Sam didn't need to be told twice.

Sam and the mysterious man ran out of the basement, hand in hand, the plastic creatures hot on their heels. They made it onto the lift, and the man quickly pressed the "close door" button. One of the mannequins managed to get his arm through, and the man wrestled with it. The man pulled the arm off, disconnecting it from the rest of its body. The doors of the lift rolled shut.

Sam didn't quite know what to say after all that had transpired in the last five minutes. So he said what came to his mind first: "You pulled his arm off."

"Yep," replied the other man with a Manchester accent. He tossed it to Sam. "Plastic."

"Very clever, nice trick," said Sam, drudging up a weak laugh. His breath was still heavy from the sprint they'd made to escape the mannequins. His heart was racing. "Who were they, then? Students? Is this a student thing or what?"

"Why would it be students?" asked the other man.

"I don't know," said Sam, shrugging.

"Well, you said it. Why students?" the man persisted.

"'Cause…to get that many people dressed up and being silly, they've got to be students," Sam replied, trying to rationalize it all.

The man finally turned around, and Sam saw his face properly. He was tall, about six foot, and had broad shoulders and short dark hair, like a soldier or something. His clothes were dark: a black leather jacket, a maroon jumper, and dark jeans. His nose was beak shaped, and his ears were rather large. However, the man was nonetheless attractive; his eyes were a pleasant shade of blue, and when he turned around, he was grinning. "That makes sense," said the man. "Well done."

"Thanks."

"They're not students," said the man.

"Well, whoever they are, when Skelton finds them, he's gonna call the police," said Sam.

"Who's Skelton?" asked the man.

"Chief electrician."

"Skelton's dead," said the man, as the door to the lift opened. The man got off, and Sam followed. Who the hell was this guy?

"That's not funny, that's cruel, mate," Sam began to say, but the other man cut him off. "Hold on, mind your eyes." He reached into his pocket and whipped out a strange looking metal pen or something. At least Sam thought it was a pen, but then the man pushed a button on it and it emitted a bright blue light and a weird, high-pitched whirring noise. The man pointed it at the lift call button.

The pen (or whatever it was) caused the button to put off a shower of sparks. Sam leapt back in surprise. With that, the man rushed away, with Sam staring after him in disbelief. "Who is it then?" he called, but the man ignored him. "Who's that lot down there? I said, who are they?!"

"They're made of plastic, living plastic creatures," said the man, when Sam followed after him. "They're being controlled by a relay device on the roof, which would be a big problem if I didn't have this-" The man stopped just long enough to flash Sam a strange looking apparatus making beeping and booping noises, then continued walking. Sam had to practically jog to keep up with the man; he had longer legs and therefore, a faster pace. "So, I'm going to go upstairs and blow it up. And I might well die in the process, but don't worry about me, no. You go on. Go on, have your lovely beans on toast." The man gently pushed Sam through the back door of the shop and out into the night air. "Don't tell anyone about this, because if you do, you'll get them killed," he added, and on that enigmatic note, he slammed the door shut, leaving Sam outside to ponder what the hell had just happened.

Then, to Sam's surprise, the door reopened. "I'm the Doctor, by the way, what's your name?" said the man.

"Sam. Sam Tyler."

"Nice to meet you, Sam." The Doctor shook the bomb cheerfully. "Run for your life!" And then he slammed the door shut again.

Sam, plastic arm still in hand, was utterly bewildered by the whole ordeal, but figured that if this eccentric man had advised him to run, he should probably run.

Roughly three minutes later, Hunt's Boutique exploded.

Later, after Sam arrived at his flat in the Powell Estates and ate dinner, he changed into his pajamas and took a Tylenol. He couldn't take regular aspirin, he was allergic to it. For some reason, after all that had transpired that day, he had a migraine headache. Not the usual migraine however. More like a dull drumming in his head. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

That night, Sam dreamed of the Doctor.

It was an odd dream. Because the Doctor in his dream was not only the man he'd encountered today. He had other faces. The Doctor in Sam's dream was an older man with puffy grey hair, like it had been permed, and rather flamboyant clothes, sometimes even a cape.

And there were others, too: a curly haired, bug-eyed Bohemian in a wide-brimmed hat and an extremely long knit scarf; a young, blonde Edwardian in a cricketer's uniform, with a stalk of celery pinned to the lapel of his long beige jacket; a clownish looking fellow in a rainbow checkered coat; a dark eyed chap with an umbrella and a sweater vest donning red question marks; and a man with long, rich, curly hair, dressed in Victorian garb. And of course, the man with the leather jacket and the big ears was there too.

But this wasn't the strangest aspect of the dream. The strangest part was that all throughout the dream, Sam was pitted against the Doctor. Always trying to kill him, or imprison him, or hurt him in some way or another. Dream-Sam hated the Doctor with a passion, and made himself the Doctor's mortal enemy.

However, Sam also observed that his dream self had a certain fondness for the Doctor, which Dream-Sam hated to admit to himself. Like the Doctor was a brother. Or an old friend, perhaps. Yes, that was it. An old friend. A best friend, even. Or…or even…

Oh. The dream took an odd turn.

Sam's dream self had become a teenager, and so was the Doctor. They were lying on their backs in soft orange grass, gazing up at the sky. Holding hands.

Sam rolled over to look at the Doctor. The Doctor looked back at him and smiled adoringly. Sam moved his head to where their foreheads were pressed together, and the tips of their noses brushed. The young Doctor stroked Sam's hand with his thumb. It sent pleasant shivers down Sam's spine. "Koschei," the Doctor breathed, and Sam knew it was his name, his real name. It made his hearts beat madly.

"Theta," he murmured back, lovingly, and gently pressed his lips to the other boy's. Theta kissed him back, releasing Sam's hand and cupping his cheek.

Sam woke up abruptly, sweating like mad. What the bloody hell was that?!

Chapter 2: The Companion, Volume 2

Notes:

Chapter based on "Rose" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: March 26, 2005 (2/5).

Chapter Text

The next day, Sam didn't have a job to go to. Hunt's had been destroyed. So much for his theory that the Doctor and the mannequins were a dream.

Speaking of dreams, what the hell had that been last night? By God, he barely encountered this bloke for five minutes, and then he had that utterly confusing dream about him. The mysterious Doctor (or whatever his name really was) and all his different faces. The strange meadow of rust colored grass. And Sam had imagined that he had not one, but two hearts when he was…yeah. That last bit was the weirdest of all.

Sam was not gay. Never had been, never would be. He never ever had fancied men, not a single one. He'd never even had a dream about being gay, until now. Besides, he had a lovely girlfriend-

Annie! Oh God. Sam snatched up his mobile and checked it. Annie had called him ten times, and left eight frantic voicemails. He immediately punched in her number and hit SEND. She picked on the first ring.

"Oh my God, Sam, you had me worried sick!" exclaimed Annie. "You completely missed out on our date last night, and then I saw on the news that your shop had blown up, and-and-oh, Sam!" Sam heard sobs on the other end of the line and knew it was serious. Annie was not one to get all emotional. "I was thinking that the worst had happened! Why didn't you call me?"

"I'm sorry, love, I meant to, honest I did," said Sam, feeling terrible. "But I'd just walked out of the building, and it exploded! After all that, I just forgot. There was so much confusion. I'm so sorry, Annie, please forgive me."

Annie was trying to control her breathing. "Oh, of course I forgive you. I was just so worried. I was scared you were...you were-!"

"I know, I know," said Sam. "But I'm not. I'm still here. I'm alright. Really. Not even a scratch on me. I was quite lucky I got out of there when I did."

"Yes. Thank God for that!"

"Listen, why don't you-" Sam was about to offer that Annie come over and they could go out to brunch somewhere, but was distracted by the sound of something fiddling with his cat flap. Thought I nailed that down, thought Sam.

Sam went over to his front door to inspect it, and found that he had indeed nailed down the flap, but that something had pushed the nails back out.

"Hello? Sam?"

"Sorry, Annie, look, I'll call you later. Weird stuff goin' on," said Sam.

"Alright. Love you," she said and hung up.

Sam bent down and picked up one of the fallen nails. "What the hell?" he muttered.

Suddenly, the cat flap fluttered again. Sam leapt back in surprise. That is no cat, he thought.

Sam cautiously bent back down and pushed the flap with two fingers. Once, briefly. Then, again, completely.

Through the small square, Sam saw two blue eyes staring at him.

Sam popped up in surprise. He flung the front door open to reveal the mysterious Doctor standing there, mirroring his own expression of bewilderment. "What are you doing here?" interrogated the Doctor.

"I live here," said Sam.

"Well what did you do that for?"

"Because I do. I'm only home because someone blew up my job," Sam added pointedly.

The Doctor pulled the weird pen-thing out of his inner jacket pocket. "Must've gotten the wrong signal," he muttered, studying it. He suddenly wrapped his knuckles lightly on Sam's forehead. "You're not plastic, are you? No," he said, answering his own question. "Bonehead. Bye, then."

"Oi! Bonehead?!" Sam grabbed the sleeve of the Doctor's jacket and yanked him inside. "I think you owe me an explanation or two, mate."

"Watch the leather!" complained the Doctor, but didn't object to being pulled inside Sam's flat. "Hmm. Nice place you got here."

"Er…" Well, now that the Doctor was inside, Sam didn't quite know what to say. "Do you…want a coffee or something?" he asked, feeling stupid.

The Doctor looked at him in derision and said, "Yeah…sure. Just milk, thanks."

Sam quickly went to the kitchen to pour the mugs. Okay, thought Sam. You're gonna ask why those dummies came to life last night. No, first, you're gonna ask who the hell he is and why he's stalking you. And why you had a weird dream about him last night-no! You're not bringing that up! God, no!

Meanwhile, in the living room, the Doctor was making himself comfortable. He spotted a magazine lying on the coffee table and flipped it open. "That won't last," he said, chuckling to himself as he scanned an article about some hot new celebrity couple. "He's gay and she's an alien."

He then picked up a paperback and casually shuffled through its pages. "Hm, sad ending," he said, tossing it aside. He found Sam's driver's license and muttered to himself "Sam Tyler". Then, he spotted a mirror hanging on Sam's wall.

"Eh, could've been worse," he mused, getting closer to inspect his new form better. He didled his ear lobes and commented, "Look at the ears." The Doctor had regenerated over a month ago, but hadn't had much time for looking in mirrors and such. He'd been far too busy…well, keeping himself distracted.

Sam was still in the kitchen, so the Doctor picked up a deck of playing cards and attempted to shuffle them, but instead managed to scatter them all over the living room floor. "Maybe not," he sighed.

The Doctor was suddenly distracted by the sound of the cat flap rattling. "What's that then?" he called to Sam in the kitchen. "You got a cat?"

Sam was shaken from his stupor of thinking about the previous night's occurrings. "What? No," he replied.

With the coffee finally poured, Sam came into the living room, where the Doctor had plopped himself into an armchair and was messing around with the plastic arm, pretending that it was choking him. "Thought I threw that out," he said offhandedly, setting the mugs down on the coffee table. "Oi, what are all these cards doing all over the floor?" he said, bending over to pick them up.

"Anyway…look, mate, you never did tell me your name last night. Doctor what-was-it?" said Sam, but no reply came from the Doctor, just strange grunting noises. "Hello?—Ahh!"

The Doctor had managed to pry the arm from his throat. He threw the arm away, which simply continued to hang there in midair. Then, fingers outstretched, the arm turned around and attached itself to Sam's face.

The Doctor grabbed the arm by its…arm and attempted to detach it from Sam's face, managing to fall backward, breaking the coffee table, with Sam on top of him-

The golden-haired boy fell onto the floor, accidentally pulling his smaller, dark-haired friend with him. "Whoops!" said Theta, and the two boys laughed at their own silliness…until the sound died away, and the two boys were just staring into each other eyes, crystal blue versus mystic lavender.

"Kos…" Theta said slowly.

Koschei tried to calm the rapid beats of his hearts, and quickly stood, turning away so that the other would not see him blush-

Oh, brother! thought Sam, his cheeks burning red behind the plastic hand. He quickly pulled himself up and immediately fell back onto the futon. The Doctor finally yanked the arm off of Sam's face, then, after meddling with the buttons for an instant, jabbed the palm with his strange pen device.

The arm gave a final twitch of its fingers and went stiff. "It's alright, I stopped it. See?" he said, tossing the arm to Sam. "'Armless," he joked, flashing him another toothy smile.

The two men stood, Sam still a little shaken by the attack. The Doctor picked up his spilled mug from the floor where the wooden shards of Sam's destroyed coffee table lay scattered like the playing cards. "Well, the coffee was lovely," he said, handing the mug to Sam. "But now I really must be off. Have a nice day."

And with that, the Doctor strode out the door.

Sam stood there in bewilderment, his living room all but destroyed. Then he remembered why he had invited the strange man in—answers. "Oi! Wait a second!"

Sam chased after the leather clad man, who was now descending the stairs outside. "Hold on a minute, you can't just go swanning off!"

"Yes I can. Here I am; this is me, swanning off. See ya!" The Doctor called cheekily over his shoulder.

"That arm was bloody moving!" exclaimed Sam. "It tried to kill me!"

"Ten out of ten for observation," muttered the Doctor sarcastically.

"But…but…you can't just walk away," argued Sam. "You've got to tell me what's going on."

"No, I don't."

The Doctor continued to walk away from the estates, but Sam was on hot on his heels. "Alright then," Sam threatened. "I'll go to the police. I'll tell everyone. You said if I did that, I'd get people killed. So, your choice, my dear Doctor; tell me, or I'll-"

The Doctor whirled around. "What did you just say?"

"Er…I said 'tell me'?" said Sam confusedly.

"No, before that," said the Doctor.

"'Your choice'?"

"No, after that." The Doctor eyed Sam suspiciously. "You called me something."

Sam was puzzled. "Yeah. I called you 'Doctor'."

The Doctor stared into Sam's hazel eyes intensely, as if searching for something. Sam felt a bit awkward at the scrutiny. Finally, the Doctor shut his eyes and shook his head. "Nah. Forget it. Just thought you…never mind," he said, pacing away again.

Sam quickly followed suit. "Look, mate…who are you?"

"You just said it. The Doctor," he said.

"Yeah, but…Doctor who?" persisted Sam. "You got a surname, don't you?"

Lungbarrow.

"No," said the Doctor. "Not anymore."

"So…you're just…the Doctor?" said Sam incredulously.

"Hello!" said the Doctor, waving.

"Is that supposed to sound impressive?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Sort of."

"Are you the police?" asked Sam.

"No, I was just passing through. I'm a long way from home," the Doctor added nonchalantly.

A sudden image appeared up in Sam's mind. A wondrous landscape of the red-orange grass from Sam's dream, the yellow-orange sky the backdrop for forests of silver trees and high mountains of violet and brown and red and gold. All amber hued and lit up by the sun, one of two, coming up over the horizon, setting the glorious red and orange and gold scene ablaze…

Sam shook his head slightly. What were all these strange notions? Ever since he'd met this eccentric Doctor, his head was filled with visions and feelings and memories that weren't his. His head was pounding with it all. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. "But how come those plastic things keep coming after me?"

"Oh, suddenly the entire world revolves around you!" taunted the Doctor. "You were just an accident. You got in the way, that's all."

"It tried to kill me."

"It was after me, not you. Last night, in the shop, I was there, you blundered in, almost ruined the whole thing. This morning, I was tracking it down, it was tracking me down. The only reason it fixed on you is 'cause you've met me."

"So what you're saying is that the entire world revolves around you."

"Sort of, yeah," the Doctor shot back.

Sam snorted. "You're full of it."

"Sort of, yeah," the Doctor repeated, grinning impishly.

Sam allowed himself a laugh. "But, all this plastic stuff," he said. "Who else knows about it?"

"No one," replied the Doctor.

"What, you're on your own?"

"Well, who else is there? I mean, you lot, all you do is eat chips, go to bed, and watch telly, while all the time, underneath you, there's a war going on."

"Okay…" said Sam slowly. "Start from the beginning. I mean, if we're going to go with the living plastic…and I don't even believe that…but if we do, how did you kill it?"

The Doctor, coming to terms with the fact that he just wasn't going to shake Sam, slowed down a more leisurely pace. He took a breath and began to explain. "The thing controlling it projects life into the arm. I cut off the signal. Dead."

"So it's radio control?" asked Sam.

"Thought control," corrected the Doctor. He noticed the look on Sam's face. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." For some reason, Sam was surprisingly unfazed by any of this. It must have just been the initial shock fading away. "So, who's controlling it, then?"

"Long story," said the Doctor shortly.

"But what's it all for? I mean, shop window dummies, what's that about?" Sam lowered his voice and whispered dramatically, "Is someone trying to take over Britain's shops?"

The Doctor and Sam actually burst into laughter at this. "No," chuckled the Doctor. "It's not a price war."

"Yeah?" said Sam, still chortling a bit himself. "Then what are they doing here?"

"They want to overthrow the human race and destroy you," said the Doctor, not laughing anymore.

Sam stopped laughing too and looked at the Doctor in slight disbelief. "Do you believe me?" asked the Doctor, gauging his reaction.

"No," said Sam honestly.

"But you're still listening," the Doctor pointed out.

"Yeah…but really, though, Doctor…tell me. Who are you?" said Sam, all seriousness now.

The Doctor stopped short. He slowly turned around. There was a glimmer of wonder in his eyes.

"Do you know how they say—about the Earth revolving?" The Doctor took a few steps toward Sam. "It's like when you were a kid. The first time they tell you the world's turning and you just can't quite believe it because everything looks like it's standing still."

Sam stared at the strange, mystical man with a feeling of bewilderment and anticipation. The Doctor looked at him, the cloudy blue eyes piercing into his own hazel ones. "I can feel it," whispered the Doctor. "The turn of the Earth…The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour, the entire planet is hurtling around the sun at sixty seven thousand miles an hour, and I can feel it. We're falling through space, you and me, clinging to the skin of this tiny little world, and if we let go…"

Sam felt the Doctor suddenly drop his hand. He hadn't even realized he had been holding it.

"Er…sorry," said the Doctor, looking awkward.

Theta and Koschei had snuck out after supper to watch the second sun set. It was one of their favorite things. The way the sun cast beams of light that shone through the silver leaves of the trees and set the violet-brown mountains on fire. The sky becoming darker red than the crimson grass underneath them.

The two boys sat on the ground, watching the great golden sphere sink lower and lower in the sky. The evening breeze rustled their hair.

Koschei closed his eyes and felt the gentle wind on his face, his cheeks, his eyelids. He could faintly smell the sweet essence of the baby blue flowers that grew wild out here in the meadow.

The young boy was completely immersed in the moment, until he felt something brush his hand gently.

Koschei's violet eyes opened suddenly and he looked down to see that Theta's hand had moved on top of his.

Theta and Koschei stared at the joined hands for a moment, before Theta slowly moved his away. "Er…sorry," he said, looking away bashfully.

"Uh…it's alright," said Sam.

The breeze was blowing out here too, like in the vision (he was going mad). It was actually quite a beautiful day. The sun was shining, a bird was chirping in a large oak tree standing next to a blue telephone box. Children were laughing and shrieking in a playground nearby.

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Yeah, well…that's who I am. Now, forget me, Sam Tyler," he said firmly.

He took the dummy's arm from Sam and waved it at him sardonically. "Go home."

The Doctor turned and walked away.

Sam watched the mysterious man go. Then, he too slowly turned around and started back for his apartment. But he had only walked about twenty paces, when a noise stopped him.

It was a strange, mechanical wheezing, unlike anything Sam had ever heard before. He didn't know what it was, but it just seemed so familiar…

Sam swiftly turned around and raced back to the place where he and the Doctor had parted. He looked around frantically, but saw neither hide nor hair of the mysterious man.

He was gone.

Sam stared at a sidewalk where a few cars were parked. Wait…wasn't there a telephone booth standing there just a second ago?

Chapter 3: The Companion, Volume 3

Notes:

Chapter based on "Rose" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: March 26, 2005 (3/5).

Chapter Text

"Sam!" exclaimed Annie when she opened the door to her flat to find him standing there. She was a pretty woman, with shoulder length, reddish brown hair and dazzling hazel eyes. She pulled him into a tight embrace. "I'm just so glad you're okay," she said with a sigh of relief.

"Sorry I couldn't come over sooner," said Sam, giving her a quick kiss.

"Yeah, you said there was weird stuff going on. What sort of weird stuff?" asked Annie, leading him into her living room.

"Annie, I'm not sure if I can explain it all," sighed Sam. "I really don't know about it myself."

"Well, just try to put it out of your mind," said Annie, smiling. "Listen. Why don't you give me fifteen minutes or so to get ready, and we'll go somewhere for lunch. Alright?"

"Sounds great. I could use something to eat." Sam hadn't had much to eat all day. He hadn't even had his morning coffee, thanks to the Doctor. Hey… "Say, you mind if I use your computer?"

"Not at all," said Annie, heading into her bedroom.

"Thanks." Why didn't I think of looking him up before? Sam immediately went to the Google homepage on Annie's PC and typed in "doctor". Of course, about 18 billion results came up, none of them having to do with his Doctor.

Sam sighed and revised his search to "doctor living plastic", but all this succeeded in doing was bringing up websites for a bunch of plastic surgeons. Dummy, he thought to himself. What else was there? He had absolutely nothing to go on about this elusive Doctor, except for some very strange visions he'd been having lately. Don’t think on those too hard, Sam thought with a shudder.

Wait. There was one thing. Sam recalled that when he and the Doctor had parted ways (the second time), he had disappeared, along with an old blue telephone box. Was it possible?

Sam shrugged. What the hell? And he typed in "doctor blue box".

Immediately, Sam got a lead. The first result was for a website that was bannered "Doctor Who?" Sam instinctively clicked on the link.

The computer brought up a rather unprofessional looking website, that reiterated its name, "Doctor Who?", and was adorned with a zoomed in picture of a man standing in a crowd. He had short dark hair, a leather jacket, and mistakable big ears.

It was him. His Doctor.

Underneath, the photo was captioned: Have you seen this man? Contact Clive.

"Sam? Are you ready?" Annie poked her head into the room, fresh clothes on and hair neatly combed.

"Yeah, sure…hey, Anne?"

"Yes?"

Sam looked at his girlfriend. "Do you mind if we make a little detour first?"

"Sam? What are we doing here?" asked Annie, staring at the small brick house they had pulled up to.

"Just need to ask this guy some questions," replied Sam.

"What about?"

"Er…it's about a job," Sam lied, and felt guilty about it. "I mean, with Hunt's blown to smithereens and all, I'm going to need some way to pay the bills. This guy owns a butcher shop; thought maybe I could…I dunno…chop meat or something."

"You don't know anything about being a butcher," Annie stated.

"Well, this could be an opportunity. Learn new things every day, that's what they say, right?"

"I guess so," said Annie, leaning back in her seat. "But do try and hurry, alright?"

"Course." Sam smiled and leaned over to kiss her. "Be right back."

Sam got out of the car and went up to the door of Clive's house. He knocked on the door and was greeted by a twelve or thirteen year old boy. "Hello," said Sam. "I've come to see Clive. Is he here?"

"Yeah, sure," said the boy. "Dad," he called into the house. "It’s one o’ your nutters!"

As the kid walked away, a portly, pleasant looking man, age of about forty five, came to the door. "Oh, hello," he said in a slight Welsh accent as he shook Sam's hand. "I'm Clive. And you are?"

"Er, Sam. Sam Tyler. I found your website online. You know…the one about…the Doctor?"

"Ah, yes! What about him?"

"Well, the thing is…" Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "I've seen him."

Clive's face suddenly went serious. "You've seen the Doctor?"

"Yeah."

Clive poked his head outside and looked around. "Come in, come in," he said, ushering Sam inside.

Clive shut the door behind him. "When did you see him? Tell me all about it. Oh, this way, please," he added, beginning to walk down the hallway.

Sam followed. "Well…did you hear on the news about Hunt's Boutique downtown? It exploded last night."

"Oh, yeah, I saw about that." Clive stopped short. "Wait…that was the Doctor?!"

"Yeah…he kind of blew it up."

"That's brilliant!...Well, no, not brilliant, but I mean, brilliant that you saw the Doctor! Did he say anything to you?"

"Yeah, little bit."

"Like what? What did he say?" Clive sounded very excited as he led Sam into a small room with pictures and bulletin boards posted all around.

"Well, he said…" Sam tried to think back to the previous night. "He said 'go on, have your lovely beans on toast'."

"Really? That's it?" Clive looked disappointed.

"Well, sorry, mate, but he said a lot of things. And to be honest, it was a very crazy night," said Sam. In more ways than you know.

"Oh well…anyway," continued Clive. He gestured around to the things in the room. "Here it is. All my research. A lot of this stuff's quite sensitive. I couldn't just send it to you. People might intercept it, if you know what I mean." He gave Sam a worried look. Sam managed to hold back a snort. How paranoid can you be?

"If you dig deep enough and keep a lively mind, this Doctor keeps cropping up all over the place," Clive went on. "Political diaries, conspiracy theories…even ghost stories." Clive pulled out a thick blue file folder and laid it out on the cluttered table in the middle of the room. "No first name, no last name. Just 'the Doctor'. Always 'the Doctor'." A far away look came to Clive's eye. "And the title seems to have been passed down from father to son. It appears to be an inheritance."

Images from Sam's dream flashed before his eyes again. The Doctor and all his faces. Was that who this man was? Just a man who had taken the name of others before him? Maybe he was a secret agent or something. Like James Bond. But in his dream…they'd all felt like the same man…

Sam laughed at himself inwardly. A man who changes his appearance so drastically? Really. It was completely impossible.

"That's your Doctor there, isn't it?" asked Clive, shaking Sam from his reverie. He was pointing at a picture on a computer monitor.

"Yeah," said Sam, staring at the picture from the website, of the leather clad Doctor standing in a crowd, his arms crossed, staring at something intensely.

"I tracked it down to the Washington public archive just last year," said Clive. "The online photo's enhanced, but if we look at the original…" Clive dug a couple pieces of paper out of the blue folder and showed them to Sam. He pointed to the Doctor in the first photo, which was the same as the website, then flipped to a shot that was less zoomed in and showed more of the crowd around the Doctor, then showed him one more.

Sam could not believe his eyes.

The whole scene was a street in America; Dallas, Texas to be exact. The Doctor and his fellow bystanders were staring at a motorcade rolling along down the street; several police officers on motorcycles escorting a black convertible, carrying two people in its backseat. One was a pretty lady in a pink business suit and matching hat. And next to her was a gingery-blonde man in a black suit, with a friendly smile on his face. It was a face that Sam had only seen in history textbooks, but was easily recognizable.

Clive nodded at Sam's astonished reaction. "November 22, 1963. The assassination of President John F. Kennedy. See?"

Sam simply could not believe it. He stared hard at the man in the crowd. There was no way that the Doctor he'd met could be standing there, in that picture. The man he'd met wouldn't even have been born in 1963. "It must be his father," Sam whispered. Right?

"Going further back," said Clive, going over to get another picture while Sam continued to stare at the picture in disbelief. "April, 1912. This is a photo of the Daniels family of Southampton," he said, sticking the new photo under Sam's nose and pointing to a tall man standing on the left. "And friend."

Again, it was undoubtedly the Doctor. "This was taken the day before they were due to sail off for the New World on the Titanic," said Clive, "and for some unknown reason, they canceled the trip…and survived. And here we are." Clive reached for one more piece of paper and handed it to Sam. This one was a sketch of a landscape, with a primitive looking hut in the background, and of course, an all too familiar looking man, with his hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket. "1883. Another Doctor. And look, the same lineage," he said, pointing out the uncanny similarities in the mystery men. "He's identical. This one washed up on the coast of Sumatra, on the very night that Krakatoa exploded."

"The Doctor is a legend woven throughout history," Clive continued. "When disaster comes, he's there. He brings a storm in his wake. And he has one constant companion."

"Who's that?" Sam dared to ask.

Clive looked at Sam gravely. "Death."

The room was eerily silent. Sam felt goosebumps, as if someone with cold fingers had touched his spine.

"If the Doctor's back…if you've seen him, Sam…then one thing's for certain. We're all in danger." Clive crossed the room and put his folder back in its place. "If he's singled you out, if the Doctor's makin' house calls…then God help you."

"But…who is he?" asked Sam, feeling a pit of dread form in his stomach. "Who do you think he is?"

"I think he's the same man," said Clive, the far off look in his eye from before returning. "I think he's immortal." Clive stared intensely into Sam's eyes and whispered, "I think he's an alien from another world."

"He's a nutter! Off his head. Complete online conspiracy freak!" muttered Sam to himself on the way back to the car. "He's dotty, loony, balmy..."

"Look up there, Kos!" said Theta, excitedly, pointing to the stars. "Aren't they beautiful?"

"Yeah," said Koschei, smiling endearingly at his Theta. There was nothing more he loved more than when Theta got all excited and began babbling about things. The way his eyes sparkled…

"Someday, Koschei, we're going to take our TARDIS and fly it straight out there! We're going to see everything the universe has to offer. Every planet, every sun and moon and comet and nebula there is. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

"Yes," said Koschei, taking Theta's hand. "Did you know that you're beautiful, Theta? Your soul is beautiful."

Theta smiled and took Koschei's other hand. "Thank you, Koschei. I love you."

"I love you too."

"So…do you want to?"

"Want to what?"

"See the universe with me," asked Theta.

Koschei laughed. "Of course I do. Who else would I see it with? Ushas? Or that prat Mortimus, perhaps?"

Theta laughed and kissed Koschei earnestly. Koschei kissed back and wrapped his arms around his love's torso. Soon they were rolling around on the ground, completely oblivious to anything but each other…

Sam shook his head slightly. What was wrong with him?

He sighed as he climbed into the car and shut the door. "Well…that was disappointing," he said. "So, I'm starved. I fancy a pizza."

"Pizza."

"Or Chinese," said Sam, shrugging. "What do you think?"

"P-p-p-pizza," sputtered Annie.

Sam looked at his girlfriend. "Er…you alright? Your face is a little…flushed."

She slowly turned to look at him. "Pizza," she repeated.

Sam laughed. "Okay, I get it, I'm hungry too. Let's go," he said and put the key in the ignition.

"So, maybe I should I try the hospital," said Sam to Annie later, at the pizza place. He was staring at the menu, but not really reading it; he was too busy trying to think of places he could work, jobs he could do. He was certainly trying not to think of that man. "I mean, yeah, I can't be a…nurse or anything, obviously," he said, gliding over the D-word, "but I'm sure there's janitorial work or something. God. When I think to myself that I could’ve gone to university, done my A levels...my teachers said I had the brains. If I’d had the money for it..."

"So who's the Doctor?" said Annie.

Sam nearly fell out of his chair in shock. "Wha-?! How did you know about the Doctor?!"

"…I saw the website on my computer, of course," said Annie shortly. "Now, who is he? What do you know about him? Where did you meet him?"

"Er…last night. At the shop?"

"Oh, so it was him that took all those innocent lives. Yes?" Annie grilled him.

"Innocent lives? Everyone else was gone, Anne. It was just me and him, and look, I'm fine, see?"

"Not the humans," said Annie, saying the word as some might say "maggot-eaten dead rat carcass". "The Autons."

"Autons? What are Autons? Wait, you mean the plastics? How do you know they're called Autons?"

"Never mind that, just tell me about this Doctor," said Annie dismissively. "It's okay, you can trust me, sweetheart, babe, babe, sugar, babe, sugar." She grinned at him widely, her eyes bulging unnaturally. "You can tell me anything. Tell me about the Doctor, and what's he's planning. I can help you, Sam. That's all I really want to do, sweetheart, babe, babe, sugar, sweetheart."

"Okay, what's going on?" said Sam. "You're acting very strange."

"Your champagne," said the waiter, coming to the table and sticking the bottle under Annie's nose.

"We didn't order any champagne," said Annie, not even looking up. She grabbed Sam's hand and squeezed it. Hard. "Where's the Doctor?"

"Christ, Annie! You got a grip! That's not human!" said Sam, wrenching his hand and rubbing it.

"Here, soothe your hand with this cold champagne," said the bothersome waiter, now shoving the bottle in Sam's face.

"We're fine, mate, thanks," said Sam, waving the bottle away. "Annie, what is it? What's wrong?"

"I need to find out how much you know, so where is he?" demanded Annie.

"Doesn't anybody want this champagne?" asked the waiter, still standing at Sam's shoulder.

Annie rolled her eyes and looked up at the waiter. "Look, we didn't order-" Then she stopped short. Sam looked up too.

The Doctor was standing there, staring at them, bald faced.

"Ah," said Annie, grinning wickedly. "Gotcha."

The Doctor shook up the bottle in his hand. "Don't mind me," he said. "I'm just toasting the happy couple." The Doctor aimed the bottle straight at Annie. "On the house!"

The cork popped off and flew straight at...no, into Annie's forehead. Sam watched in horror as her skin absorbed the small projectile, and her whole face distorted like a fun house mirror. Annie merely chewed several times and spit the cork back out onto the table. It bounced off and rolled away.

"What are you?!" said Sam in shock.

Annie ignored him and stood up. Sam briefly saw her hand stretch out and form into a giant flat slab (a bit like a giant spatula) before the Doctor snatched him up and pulled him away just in time. Annie's spatula hand came smashing down on the table and destroyed it.

(Is that just a thing that happens around this guy? Sam couldn't help but wonder. Tables getting mauled?)

The diners screamed and fled the café as the Doctor grabbed Annie (or whatever she was) by the head. "You'll have to excuse me, miss," he said, and put her into a headlock, twisting and yanking at her skull, like he had done with the arm, until—pop!—Annie's head came loose in the Doctor's hands, while her body continued to stand there, completely independent.

The Doctor looked down at Annie's head, which glared up at him. "Don't think that's going to stop me," she threatened.

Annie's body lurched for the Doctor, blinding trying to whack him with her paddle hands. "Doctor, come on!" exclaimed Sam, grabbing him by the sleeve. The two men took off, Annie's cranium still tucked under the Doctor's arm.

Chapter 4: The Companion, Volume 4

Notes:

Chapter based on "Rose" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: March 26, 2005 (4/5).

Chapter Text

The plastic body chased Sam and the Doctor through the kitchens of the restaurant. "Quick! Through here!" exclaimed the Doctor, grabbing Sam's hand and shoving him out the back door of the café.

"Quick, Kos!" exclaimed Theta, as the two boys ran, hand in hand, through the corridors, trying to avoid the prefects patrolling the school at night. Theta suddenly pulled Koschei into a doorway. "Through here!"

The Doctor sealed the metal door behind them with his…whatever it was. The pen thing. Sam could hear the creature banging loudly on the other side of the door. He knew the door wouldn't hold it back for long.

Sam turned and ran to the other end of the back alley in which they had emerged and tried to open the gates, but they were padlocked and chained. "Open the gate!" he cried at the Doctor. "Use that…tube thing, come on!"

"Sonic screwdriver," said the Doctor, walking casually away from the door as he slipped said instrument back into his pocket.

"Well, whatever it's called, use it!"

"Nah," said the Doctor, heading over to where the blue telephone booth from before was parked. Sam had been so preoccupied with getting them the hell out of there that he hadn't even acknowledged it standing there. "Tell you what, let's go in here."

Sam watched in disbelief as the Doctor nonchalantly pulled an ordinary looking key out of his pocket and slipped it into the lock of the small blue box. It was about eight feet tall, and had all the dimensions of a stall in a gas station loo. The Doctor climbed inside and disappeared.

"We can't hide inside a small wooden box!" protested Sam as the banging on the door grew more prominent. Sam whirled around and stared in terror at the large significant dents that had appeared. A few more good whacks, and the door would be destroyed.

Sam struggled some more with the lock, but the doors would not budge. "It's coming, Doctor!" he cried frantically.

Ugh! Sam let go of the chain in frustration and ran to the blue box, hurried inside, and slammed the doors shut behind him. Then he turned around…and stared for a moment, awestruck.

And then he turned again and ran right back outside.

"Thete, we'll get into trouble," whined Koschei, looking anxiously over his shoulder as Theta shut the door behind them. "What are we even doing here anyway?"

"To see this, Kos!" Theta flipped a large switch on and suddenly, the room was luminated with pure white light. Koschei stared in wonder.

Impossible! Sam stared at the blue box in astonishment. It was about six feet in width, as were the rest of the sides, he noted as he inspected the rest of the box.

Smash! Sam looked behind him to see that the plastic creature had finally broken through the door. Without another moment's hesitation, Sam ran back inside the blue box and secured the door.

The room Theta had brought them to was an enormous green house. There were large, green, majestic plants growing in rows for as far as Koschei could see. "What is this place?" he breathed.

"It's going to follow us," said Sam, looking around the vast room in amazement. While the outside of the box was fairly diminutive, the interior was impossibly huge. The room was in a shape that Sam couldn't even find a name for; it had twenty walls with small round grates. The floor was a grate as well, with a huge hexagonal console in the middle, littered with hundreds of buttons and switches and wires and levers and God knows what all. Coming out of the center of the console was a long glass tube going straight to the ceiling of the room. The whole structure was supported by slightly distorted Y-shaped columns. And as if this one room wasn't enough, Sam saw stairs leading up to a higher level that promised more rooms to be explored.

"The assembled hoards of Genghis Khan couldn't get through those doors, and believe me, they've tried," said the Doctor, fiddling with something on the control panel. He either hadn't noticed Sam's dumbfounded state, or was completely used to it. "You see," he continued, "the arm was too simple. But a head's perfect. I can use it trace the signal back to the original source."

Sam watched silently as the Doctor plugged wires into the rubber head. It was slightly creepy. The hair, the eyes, the lips…it looked uncannily like Annie. "Right," said the Doctor, leaving the head sitting on a glowing blue panel. He turned and faced Sam, waiting expectantly. "Where do you want to start?"

"Um…" Sam stuttered for a moment. The Doctor stood there patiently, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "The inside's bigger than the outside?"

"Yeah."

"Is it alien?"

"Yeah."

Sam stared at the Doctor and said cautiously, "Are you alien?"

"Yes…is that alright?"

"Yeah," Sam answered quickly.

The Doctor nodded slowly. "It's called the TARDIS. This thing," he said, gesturing to the room in which they stood. "T-A-R-D-I-S. That's 'Time And Relative Dimension In Space'."

"It's the nursery, Koschei," said Theta, taking his hand and grinning widely. "This is where they grow the TARDISes."

"They're…they're beautiful," whispered Koschei, drinking in the view.

"I don't…this is unreal," gasped Sam, sitting down on the grated floor.

"That's okay," said the Doctor, squatting down beside him. "Culture shock. Happens to the best of us."

"What about Annie?" asked Sam. "Is she…did they kill her?"

The Doctor blinked in surprise. "Oh. Didn't think of that."

Sam looked the Doctor, enraged. "She's my girlfriend! You pulled her head off!"

"Really? She's your girlfriend?" The Doctor looked surprised. "Weird. I would've thought…never mind."

What is that supposed to mean? "They copied her, or turned her into plastic or something, and you didn't even think? And now you're just going to let her melt?" shouted Sam.

"Melt?" The Doctor looked at the console, where the rubber head was liquefying. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no!" yelled the Doctor, scrambling up from the floor and rushing to the other side of the console. He madly began to press some buttons.

"What are you doing?" exclaimed Sam.

"Following the signal. It's fading!" The Doctor jumped around, working the controls, while the TARDIS began making the strange wheezing noise from before, and began to shake. The glass tube in the center glowed bluish-green and filaments inside began pumping up and down.

The Doctor pulled down a lever and inspected the computer screen. "Wait a minute, I've got it!" Then, a second later… "No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" He flipped a couple more switches. "Almost there, almost there!" He seemed to be shouting at the machine. "Here we go!"

The TARDIS stopped trembling. The Doctor rushed past Sam and ran out the door.

"You can't go out there, it's not safe!" Sam protested, thinking back to Annie's beheaded rubber body, dashing about with its mad spatula hands. The Doctor ignored him. Groaning to himself, he raced after him.

Sam found, surprisingly, that they had left the alley behind the café and had been teleported to the bridge over the Thames River, right next to the RAF memorial statue. The Doctor was pacing, looking irritated. "I lost the signal," he grumbled. "I got so close."

"We've moved," said Sam, scratching his head. "Does it fly?"

"Disappears there and reappears here, you wouldn't understand," said the Doctor curtly. He stared out disgustedly over the water.

"If we're somewhere else, what about that headless thing? It's still on the loose," Sam pointed out.

"It melted with the head. Are you going to witter on all night?" The Doctor walked past him and leaned against the side of the TARDIS.

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. The evening wind was cool, and—wait, evening? Sam looked around confusedly at the dark sky. He could have sworn it was only one o'clock in the afternoon. Two at the latest. How was it already dark?

Oh, confound it. So much had happened in the past twenty fours hours that he really didn't care anymore.

Annie. Sweet, smart, beautiful Annie. Had the worst really happened to her? "I'll have to tell her family," he said.

He looked at the Doctor. "Huh?" said the Doctor.

"Annie," said Sam angrily. "I'll have to tell her family she's dead. You just went and forgot her again, didn't you?!" Sam was so mad, he wanted to punch a wall. Or better yet, the Doctor. Who the hell was this guy, blowing up buildings, barging into his home, his private life, even his dreams.

But Sam didn't like violence. "You know what? You were right, you are alien."

"Look, if I did forget some bird named Annie, it's because I'm trying to save the life of every stupid ape blunderin' about on top of this planet, alright?!"

"'Alright?'" repeated Sam in sheer disbelief.

"Yes, it is!" shouted the Doctor.

After this last outburst, the two men continued to stand there, not speaking, not looking at each other, Sam smoldering and the Doctor indignant. Finally, after a few tense moments, Sam broke the silence. "So if you're an alien, how come you sound like you're from the north?"

The Doctor was slightly taken by surprise by this question. "Lots of plants have a north," he reasoned.

Sam noted that he said "lots of" planets had norths. Not "all".

Sam glanced up at the extraterrestrial blue box that had suddenly materialized into his life. "And this…'Police Public Call Box'. Aren't these kind of old fashioned?"

"Yeah," said the Doctor, finally grinning a little. "From the 1950's. It's a disguise," he added, patting the side of his ship fondly.

Koschei stared at the unripe TARDISes, all in their beautiful, natural form. "Can we go inside one, Theta?" whispered Koschei.

"Of course," said Theta, smiling warmly at his dear friend. Koschei loved Theta's smile. So warm. Like a fireplace on a cold night.

Theta took Koschei's hand, and the two boys went inside the nearest TARDIS. Koschei couldn't believe his eyes. "It's…it's-"

"Bigger on the inside," finished Theta.

The room was pristine white, with glowing round things on the walls. In the center was a huge console, covered in every button imaginable. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," said Koschei softly, as he tenderly fingered the console.

"That's just what I said," said Theta.

"Okay," said Sam, slightly shaking his head. "And this…living plastic. What's it got against them?...I mean, us. The humans."

The Doctor didn't notice Sam's slip. "Nothing. It loves you. You've got such a good planet. Lots of smoke and oil, plenty of toxins and dioxins in the air-perfect. Just what the Nestene Consciousness needs. Its food stock was destroyed in the war, all its protein plants rotted, so Earth, dinner." The Doctor mimed eating.

What war? wondered Sam. "Any way of stopping it?"

The Doctor reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a vial of blue liquid. "Anti-plastic," he said, smiling smugly. "But first, I've got to find it." The Doctor began pacing again. "How can you hide something that big in a city this small?"

London? Small? "Hide what?" asked Sam.

"The transmitter," said the Doctor. "The Consciousness is controlling every single piece of plastic, so it needs a transmitter to boost the signal."

"Well, what's it look like?"

"Like a transmitter," said the Doctor, as if Sam was dumb for even asking. "Round and massive! Somewhere slap-bang in the middle of London." He walked past Sam, the TARDIS, the statue, and paused next to the railing on the other side. He turned to face Sam. "A huge metal circular structure. Like a dish, like a wheel. Radial. Close to where we're standing…must be completely invisible."

Sam stared behind the Doctor, who hadn't noticed the backdrop to his soliloquy. "What?" he asked. Sam nodded to the huge Ferris wheel behind him. The Doctor turned and looked, but did not see. "What?" he said again. Sam again gestured to the wheel. The Doctor, again, missed it. "What is it? What?"

Really, mate? Are you that thick? Sam sighed.

The Doctor turned around once more, and finally saw what Sam meant—the London Eye. "Oh," he said slowly, then grinned at Sam.

"Fantastic!"

"Promise me, Koschei," said Theta, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and whirling him around to face him. "Promise me that someday, you and I will fly this TARDIS together. Flying among the stars. Seeing the universe and all it has to offer. You and me."

"I promise, Theta," said Koschei, staring into his clear blue eyes.

It was deadly quiet around them, in the solitude of the TARDIS. Koschei's heart rates had increased, and he could tell that Theta's had too. "Theta-" he began to whisper, but Theta cut him off with a kiss. The first of many that would come.

Koschei was taken by surprise, but in no way protesting. He wrapped his arms around Theta's torso and hugged him closer to him. The taller Time Lord cupped Koschei's face in his hands and deepened the kiss, making Koschei gasp with delight. He had never kissed anyone, but he knew that never would such an embrace felt so right as theirs.

Theta broke the kiss and smiled at Koschei, stroking his cheek with his thumb. "I guess that promise is sealed."

Chapter 5: The Companion, Volume 5

Notes:

Chapter based on "Rose" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: March 26, 2005 (5/5).
Contains scenes from Terror of The Autons by Robert Holmes, original air date: January 2, 1971.

Chapter Text

"Thete? Did you really mean it? You and me?"

"Of course, Kos."

"Forever?"

"Yes. Forever."

Sam and the Doctor tore down the street, through the hustle and bustle of downtown London. Sam always loved the city at night. The bright headlights, the people, mucking about, partying, drinking, laughing it up. And now, with the rush of adrenaline pulsing through his systems, he found the scene even more electrifying. He didn't even think twice when the Doctor took his hand. Why did it feel so natural, he would find himself wondering later.

"Think of it!" called the Doctor, slowing down as they approached the great Ferris wheel. "Plastic, all over the world, every artificial thing waiting to come alive. The shop-window dummies, the phones, the wires, the cables…"

"The nose jobs," added Sam.

"Still," said the Doctor. "We've found the transmitter. The Consciousness must be somewhere underneath."

Sam looked down over the parapet and spotted a large manhole at the bottom of the steps. "Like down here?" he called.

The Doctor rushed to his side and looked at the manhole. "Looks good to me," he said, flashing a grin at Sam. The Doctor took off again, followed closely by Sam, and the two men climbed down the manhole.

"The Nestene Consciousness," said the Doctor, as the two found themselves in a giant boiler room. He pointed. "That's it. Inside the vat. A living plastic creature."

The Consciousness was a huge blobby mass of boiling hot, burning orange goo. It lay bubbling inside the giant vat in the center of the room.

Suddenly, Sam heard a voice in his head. I know you. Time Lord.

"What? What is it?" said the Doctor, suddenly noticing Sam's discomfort.

"That..that thing," said Sam shakily. "It just…said something. In my head."

"What did it say?"

"It said 'I know you, Time Lord'," said Sam, looking at the Doctor warily.

The Doctor paled immediately at this. He marched straight-backed down the stairs, to the landing above the factory.

The TARDIS appeared in the lair of the Nestene Consciousness. A man in a black Nehru suit stepped out, and registered his surroundings.

He was short. About five foot eight, and had dark eyes, cold and bitter, and dark hair, complete with a mustache and goatee-type beard.

Two or three Autons marched out of the shadows, arms outstretched to grab the man. He calmly grabbed his TCE out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pointed it at them. They immediately backed off.

"I have an appointment," said the man in black, slipping the device back into his pocket. "If you would be so kind."

The Autons escorted him to the room where the Consciousness dwelled. "Your Excellency," said the man, bowing deeply to the gelatinous monster.

He normally did not pay other beings with this form of respect, but as he required the Consciousness's help to destroy his worst enemy and the pathetic planet he now inhabited, he would have to force himself to behave.

"You are a Time Lord," observed the Consciousness, transmitting telepathically.

"Indeed," replied the dark man. "I humbly come to your Excellency's court with a proposition."

"What is this proposition, visitor?"

The dark man smiled. "You operate a very fine empire here. The Nestene Autons are feared throughout the cosmos. But I know of a planet where your kingdom could thrive tenfold. A planet rich in oil and toxins. A planet already with the means to mass produce your plastic creatures."

"I would know of such a planet," said the Consciousness.

"Its inhabitants call it 'Earth'," said the man.

"Yes," it admitted. "We already once infiltrated this 'Earth', but we were hindered."

"With your permission, my liege," said the man, "I would like to transport several of your revered Autons in my TARDIS to this piddly little planet. There, I could conquer it and annihilate its primitive natives, and you and your creatures would take stock of its abundant resources."

The Consciousness thought long and hard on this. "If I were to agree…how would you benefit from this?"

The man smiled wickedly. "Why, by the destruction of my greatest enemy…the Doctor."

Sam wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. The Consciousness was putting off massive amounts of heat and steam. "What's that? What's a 'Time Lord'?"

The Doctor didn't reply.

"So, what are you going to do?" Sam asked, realizing that his question would not be answered. "Just tip in your anti-plastic and hit the road?"

The Doctor glared at Sam. "I'm not here to kill it. I've got to give it a chance."

"Good afternoon, Doctor." The man had snuck into the Doctor's lab and waited until the ridiculous human pets had gone to reveal himself. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

He was quite let down by the Doctor—first, to be exiled from Gallifrey and have his TARDIS repossessed, so to speak, and then to resign himself to working for the human government. Really. It was so disappointing.

The Doctor whirled around. The man allowed himself a moment to take in the Doctor's appearance. He was in his third incarnation now, and looked like an old man (the man took a little malicious glee in this; his body was slightly younger and more fit). He had a fantastic grey bouffant, and his clothes were outrageous: a ruffled shirt underneath a flamboyant, navy blue velvet smoking jacket. The man felt himself being scrutinized as well.

"No, no, indeed not," said the Doctor. This body had a deep, soothing voice, which the man hated to admit was quite attractive. The Doctor eyed the TCE clutched in the man's hand. "You've come to kill me, of course."

"Not without considerable regret," admitted the man.

"How very comforting," said the Doctor sardonically.

"You see, Doctor," continued the man, dismissing the Doctor's tone, "you are my intellectual equal. I have so few worthy opponents. And when they've gone, I always miss them."

"Do you realize how utterly ridiculous you sound right now?" said the Doctor. "You've changed. I didn't realize how much I'd warped you. Please forgive me," he added, sounding almost sincere.

"On the contrary," said the man. "I owe you my gratitude. You helped me to see my full potential. To grow beyond the foolish little boy you knew at the Academy."

"That 'foolish little boy' was beautiful," negated the Doctor, now looking a bit saddened. "I do wish he would come back."

"That shall never happen. That little boy died the day his so-called friend betrayed him. And I took his place. How very ironic," said the man, smiling cruelly. "You were your own undoing, Doctor."

"I seek audience with the Nestene Consciousness under peaceful contract," announced the Doctor to the bubbling mass. "According to Convention 15 of the Shadow Proclamation."

The great blob bubbled and rumbled and hissed, but Sam could somehow understand it. It was allowing the Doctor to speak. "Thank you. If I might have permission to approach?"

"Sam?" called a frightened voice.

Sam spotted a trembling mass sitting at the base of the stairs. "Oh my God," he said, racing to the scared woman. "Annie, you're safe! Oh, thank God," he said, hugging her to him.

"Sam," said Annie tearfully, cupping Sam's face. "What the hell is going on?!" she screamed and whispered at the same time.

"Annie, listen to me, I'll explain later. You just run up there, climb out of the manhole, and get out of here," he said.

"But-"

"Please, Annie. Just go! Get yourself home. Please," he pleaded.

Annie whimpered affirmatively and tore out of there.

Sam watched her go. "They kept her alive," he said to the Doctor after she'd gone.

"Yeah, that was always a possibility," said the Doctor, casually descending the steps. He seemed very uninterested in the whole matter. "Keep her alive to maintain the copy."

"You knew that and you never said?!" shouted Sam, anger rising.

"Can we keep the domestics outside, thank you?" asked the Doctor, walking past him and down to the landing jutting out over the Nestene Consciousness. "Am I addressing the Conciousness?"

The bubbly mass let out a hiss. Yes.

"Thank you," said the Doctor. "If I might observe, you infiltrated this civilization by means of war shunt technology. So, may I suggest with the greatest respect that you shunt off?" He gave the blobby creature a cheeky smile.

The Consciousness roared in indignation. "Oh, don't give me that," said the Doctor. "It's an invasion, plain and simple. I know you. We've met before, remember?"

"How did you get in here?" inquired the Doctor.

"Oh, don't be trivial, Doctor," said the man. "I see you've been working on the Nestene autojet," he said, nodding to the plastic yellow flower standing on the Doctor's worktable. "My own small contribution to their invasion plan."

"Vicious, complicated, and inefficient," snapped the Doctor. "Not at all the boy I remember. Not at all like Kosc-"

"You are never to say that name to me again," hissed the man menacingly. "That name has no meaning anymore. There is only me."

The Doctor softened, visibly hurt. "Apologies," he whispered. "Tell me…how do you intend to activate these flowers?"

"Oh, by a radio impulse which the Nestenes will send. I will open the channel for them. We've distributed four hundred and fifty thousand of these daffodils. So when four hundred and fifty thousand people fall dead, the country will be disrupted."

"And in the confusion, the Nestenes will land their invasion force," concluded the Doctor.

"Exactly," said the man, his eyes glittering with malice as he prepared to fire. "It's a shame that you can't be here to enjoy the destruction and chaos with me. Goodbye, Doctor."

"Please, wait," said the Doctor urgently. "Think before you fire that weapon. You don't really want to do this. I know what's truly in your hearts. I know, because it's in my hearts as well."

"Oh, do you?" said the man, glaring him with unbridled hate. "Well, if you know what is in my hearts, then you would know that I swore that I would kill you. And unlike you, Theta," he said, spitting the name out, as if it tasted sour, "I never break a promise."

It was at that moment that poor, unsuspecting Jo Grant burst into the laboratory. She shrieked at the sight of the man.

As he was distracted, the Doctor snatched something from the table and raised a warning hand. "Wait! Don't shoot."

"Doctor, you do disappoint me," scoffed the man. "We Time Lords are expected to face death with dignity."

"Oh no!" gasped Jo, staring wide-eyed at the Doctor in fear.

"Don't worry," said the Doctor, his self-righteous, haughty look having returned. "He's not going to kill me."

The man chuckled at this. "That is your last mistake."

"If you fire that thing," the Doctor threatened, "you will never be able to leave this planet."

"You're bluffing on an empty hand, Doctor."

"I am not bluffing, and my hand, as you can see, is not empty." The man finally noticed that the Doctor did indeed have something clutched in his right hand. "If you kill me," said the Doctor, "you will destroy the dematerialization circuit from your own TARDIS." He held it up to prove that he was not faking. The man stared at it in desperation. "You recognize it, I feel sure."

"Where did you get that?" questioned the man. I hate you, he said telepathically.

I know, answered the Doctor. "The circus."

The man swallowed. "You underestimate me, Doctor. Let me be quite plain: either you hand that unit over to me now…or I kill Miss Grant," he said, aiming the TCE at the young girl, who yelped softly.

No, thought the Doctor. You wouldn't. You're not that evil!

Oh, aren't I? the man shot back bitterly. You wouldn't believe what having a person—a person who supposedly cares about you—breaking your hearts does to you. It is a horrific, cruel process, Doctor.

The Doctor stared sadly at the man, his old friend, his old…what else could he do? The man was right. Koschei was dead.

"Touché," whispered the Doctor dejectedly, as he reached his hand out to surrender the circuit.

"Don't!" cried Jo, grabbing the Doctor's arm. "He's beaten already! They're going to bomb the quarry!"

"JO!" roared the Doctor, but it was too late.

The man's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh," he said softly, a wicked sneer crossing his face. "There's been a slight change in plan, Doctor. I've decided to let you live…for a little while," he added, a triumphant chortle escaping his lips.

"Don't talk about constitutional rights!" exclaimed the Doctor, shaking Sam from his flashback. Who was this evil person? Sam thought back to his original dream. Was this the person who hated the Doctor? And how had he fallen so far from sweet little Koschei, the Academy boy?

The great blob below was hissing and sloshing about in its vat. "I am talking!" shouted the Doctor.

The blob immediately settled down. "This planet is just starting," said the Doctor. "These…stupid little people," he said, gesturing to Sam.

"Hey!" exclaimed Sam indignantly.

"Sorry," said the Doctor, then continued. "-have only just learned how to walk, but they're capable of so much more. I'm asking you on their behalf, please, just go."

"Doctor!" exclaimed Sam, but it was too late. Two sneaky Autons had grabbed the Doctor from behind and one of them was now pulling the vial out of the Doctor's jacket.

The Consciousness roared and bellowed angrily. You came to destroy me! You lie!

"That was just insurance!" cried the Doctor desperately. "I wasn't going to use it! I was not attacking you, I'm here to help! I'm not your enemy. I swear, I'm not!"

Rapscallion, hissed the Consciousness. You will pay for this atrocity. You will pay with your life, and the life of your partner!

"No!" The Doctor threw a desperate glance at Sam. "Please, he's innocent! He had nothing to do with this. He's just some kid who tagged along, I swear! You don't need to bother with him!"

The Consciousness roared some more at the Doctor. "What do you mean?!" he exclaimed.

Suddenly, a panel in the wall drew back and revealed the familiar blue box. "No. Oh, no. Honestly, no!" The Doctor struggled uselessly against the Autons. "Yes, that's my ship…that's not true. I should know, I was there! I fought in the war!"

Destroyer of worlds! Deliverer of genocide!

"It wasn't my fault. I couldn't save your world! I couldn't save any of them!" cried the Doctor.

"What's it doing?!" exclaimed Sam.

"It's the TARDIS!" yelled the Doctor. "The Nestene's identified it as superior technology. It's terrified! It's going to the final phase…it's starting the invasion! Get out, Sam! Just leg it, now!"

Annie! thought Sam. She was running home right now. The streets wouldn't be safe! Sam whipped out his cell phone and punched in her number.

Sam?! Please, you've got to tell me, what's going on? What's that thing down there? What's happening? cried Annie into her phone. It was clear that she was still hysterical.

"Annie, where are you?!" Sam exclaimed.

I'm outside! I'm standing next to that manhole thing-

"No, no, Annie, you've got to run! Just run home right now! Something bad is about to happen! You can't be outside right now! Please, sweetheart, just run!"

"What?" said Annie squeakily. "I can't hear you."

"Go home!" Sam yelled into his phone frustratedly. But the call was lost.

"The Nestene," said the Doctor. "It's started the activation signal. It's transmitting! Just get your girlfriend and get out of here!"

"What, and leave you here?!"

"Yes, and leave me here!" snapped the Doctor.

Sam watched in horror as the blob produced a huge bolt of energy and broadcast it to the ceiling, where it was surely being projected outside by the Eye. "It's the end of the world," he whispered.

Above, chaos. The plastic people were attacking left and right. Civilians were panicking in the street, dying by the number.

Below, disaster. The Doctor stared sadly at Sam as he struggled against the Autons' strong grip. Another life I've ruined, thought the Doctor desperately. Another life to add to the trillions under my belt.

"Just leave me," said the Doctor sadly.

Sam stared the Doctor down. "I can't."

Without warning, Sam turned around and grabbed an axe, for in case of fire, from the wall and turned to look at a chain tacked to the wall. It was something he'd seen in a James Bond flick. It was a long shot, but…

Sam brought the axe down and chopped the rusty chain swiftly. He grasped it in his hand, got a running start and…jumped.

Sam swung, Tarzan style, down to the landing where the Doctor and the Autons stood. His swinging feet knocked into one of them, putting it off balance. The Doctor was able to throw it off the ledge and into the steaming hot blobby mass below. The Consciousness roared at this.

In this same swing, Sam knocked the other one of the landing. It received the same fate its partner had gotten. The vial of anti-plastic was dropped, and the thick blue liquid spilled out onto the Consciousness. It yowled and hissed in pain.

"Sam!" yelled the Doctor, catching the other man as he swung back. The Doctor steadied him. "You alright?" he shouted.

"Bloody brilliant!" exclaimed Sam, grinning brightly.

The Doctor grinned back. The Consciousness continued to moan and wail and writhe. "Now we're in trouble," said the Doctor, chuckling as he watched the blob throw a fit. "Come on!"

The Doctor and Sam raced up the stairs. Around them, the structure was starting to crumble. "In here!" The two dashed inside the TARDIS. The Doctor fiddled with some knobs and pulled some levers on the console. "And away we go!"

The TARDIS began to dematerialize, and transported them away from the Consciousness and the Autons and the imploding room.

The blue box appeared in the parking lot in front of the Powell Estates. The door opened and Sam stepped out. "Man, what a rush!" he exclaimed, laughing.

The Doctor followed, smiling too. "Nestene Consciousness?" He snapped his fingers. "Easy."

Sam scoffed. "You were useless in there. You'd be dead if it wasn't for me!"

"Yes, I would," agreed the Doctor. He looked at his shoes. "Thank you," he added slowly.

There was a moment's silence. Then, finally, the Doctor looked up and spoke again. "Right then! I'll be off." He paused awkwardly. "Unless, uh…I don't know." He shrugged his shoulders. "You could come with me."

Sam stared at the Doctor. What?

"This box isn't just a London hopper, you know," said the Doctor. "It goes anywhere in the universe. Free of charge." He laughed a little. "What do you think?"

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it again, not sure what to say.

"You could fill your life with work and food and sleep. Or you could go…anywhere," said the Doctor.

Sam felt lost. "Is it always this dangerous?"

The Doctor nodded playfully. "Yep!"

"Er…I can't," said Sam. "I've got people and…things…I couldn't just…"

"Yeah," said the Doctor, nodding. "I get it." He forced himself to smile. "See you around then."

The Doctor went inside his magic blue box and shut the door. After a second or two, the TARDIS began to wheeze and groan as it faded out of existence.

Sam stared at the empty spot for a long time, feeling a pain in his chest. He felt as though someone had just offered him a winning lottery ticket and he had thrown it away.

Déjà vu.

Sam sighed and turned to walk away, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. But only after five paces, he heard the noise again and turned around.

The Doctor stuck his head out of the door of the TARDIS. "By the way, did I mention? It also travels in time."

Well that explains earlier, mused Sam.

The Doctor shrugged and walked back inside, leaving the door open.

Sam stood there for a moment, staring at the crazy blue box. He slowly grinned and ran through the doors, soaking them shut behind him.

Koschei was looking for Theta. "Ushas!" he called, seeing his classmate up ahead. He caught up with her. "Have you seen Theta Sigma?"

Ushas stared at him in disbelief. "You haven't heard?" she asked incredulously.

"Heard what?"

"You know. About what your boyfriend did."

Koschei reddened. "He's not my boyfriend!...Wait, what did he do?"

"You really don't know?" She raised an eyebrow. "Koschei…Theta Sigma stole a TARDIS and ran away."

Koschei stopped. His blood ran cold. "What?"

Ushas nodded. "Yep. If he ever comes back here…ooh, he's gonna get it!"

Koschei shook his head. He was feeling sick. "No. That can't be true."

"Sorry," shrugged Ushas. "It's what I know."

"NO!" shouted Koschei, quivering with anger. "You're lying! Thete wouldn't just…leave! He wouldn't leave…me." Koschei whispered this last word.

"Koschei of Oakdown, what is all this commotion?" said the Earth Studies professor, Clavin, coming up behind the upset Koschei.

"Ushas says that-that Theta Sigma ran away," exclaimed Koschei.

Professor Clavin's face turned solemn. He bent down and touched the boy's shoulder . "Koschei..."

"No! I won't believe it!" exclaimed Koschei, blinking back tears. He knew that his shouting was attracting stares, but he didn't care.

"Koschei…I'm afraid it's the truth. Theta Sigma is gone."

Koschei stared into the professor's eyes for the longest time. A dull, angry beat drummed in his head. He brushed off the professor's comforting hand and took off running.

"Koschei!" cried Professor Clavin, but Koschei didn't stop. He kept on running…until he'd found the room he was looking for.

He threw open the door to the TARDIS greenhouse and looked around. There, right in front, a plant was standing, but its fruit was missing. The TARDIS that he and Theta had shared their first kiss in.

Koschei's lavender eyes welled up with tears. Theta…his Theta had abandoned him.

Koschei dropped to the ground, tears streaming down his face, howling, crying out for his Theta. Theta, my Theta. Come back for me…

After nearly an hour of Koschei's heartbroken sobs, the young boy picked himself up. He angrily wiped the tears from his cheeks. Koschei felt a pressure inside him. His broken hearts were being compressed, forming two cold, black stones.

"You lied to me, Theta Sigma," whispered Koschei, embracing that hot, white, burning anger churning inside of his stomach. "You said it'd be you and me. You promised. And you lied."

"I'll find you," said the boy, his voice become harsher and deeper, more resembling that of the man he would be become: the Master. "I swear, I won't rest until I find you. And then, my dear Theta…I will kill you."

Chapter 6: The Companion, Volume 6

Notes:

Chapter based on "The End Of The World" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: April 2, 2005 (1/3).

Chapter Text

"Right then, Sam Tyler," said the Doctor, moments after the man had joined him in the TARDIS. "You tell me. Where do you want to go: backwards or forwards in time? It's your choice. What's it gonna be?"

Sam couldn't even imagine what to say. The Doctor was offering to show him the whole pantheon of time and space, and he just didn't know where to start. "Forwards," he finally answered.

The Doctor grinned and flipped a few switches on the console. "How far?" he asked.

Sam shrugged. "A hundred years?"

The Doctor, in response, hit a few more controls. The TARDIS began to tremor as it dematerialized. Then, it stopped abruptly, and the Doctor pointed to the double doors. "There you go. Step outside those doors, it's the twenty second century."

Sam stared disbelievingly at the doors. "You're kidding me."

"That's a bit boring though," said the Doctor. "Do you want to go a bit further?"

Sam grinned. "Fine by me, mate!"

Another series of tremors, and they had arrived in a new location. "Ten thousand years in the future," said the Doctor. "Step outside, it's the year 12,005. The new Roman empire."

Sam snorted. "You think you're so impressive."

The Doctor's face fell a bit. "I am so impressive!" he insisted.

"You think you're so impressive!" laughed Koschei as Theta brandished his new invention.

"I am so impressive," replied Theta smugly. "This sonic…thingamabob-"

"'Thingamabob'?" chuckled Koschei. "Is that a technical term?"

"Well, I haven't exactly named it yet," admitted Theta. "But it's impressive, right?"

"Not very impressive for a weapon."

Theta looked shocked. "It's not a weapon, Kos! It's a tool! You know I despise weapons."

Koschei rolled his eyes. "Sometimes weapons are a necessary evil."

"Not if I can help it," said Theta flatly. "Anyway, you see, the sonic device works by emitting high pitched frequencies that manipulate molecular-mmph!"

Theta's technobabble was cut off by a kiss from Koschei. "Sorry," he said, smirking. "But you know how your technical jargon…excites me."

"Really?" said Theta, hiding a sly smile. "I hadn't noticed."

"Oh, do shut up," said Koschei, pulling him in for another.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Mister Spaceman."

"Right, then. You asked for it." The Doctor began going to town on his console. "I know exactly where to go. Hold on!"

The TARDIS trembled and shook as it flew through the Time Vortex. Sam had to grab onto the console to avoid falling. The Doctor grinned, waggling his eyebrows mischievously at Sam.

Then, the shaking stopped.

Sam stood. "Where are we?"

The Doctor made for the doors. "Why don't we find out?"

Sam began to follow the Doctor, but stopped all of a sudden, and started rubbing his temples.

"Something wrong?" asked the Doctor.

"Just…a headache." The dull, aching beat from the night before had returned. It felt like someone tapping sharply at the sides of his head. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four.

"I'm fine," Sam said. "Really."

The Doctor wasn't so sure. See, he hadn't picked Sam up just because he was lonely (okay, maybe a little because he was lonely). The encounter with the Nestene had made him very suspicious. Sam seemed to have some level of telepathic ability. Perhaps one even more elevated than the Doctor's. How else, then, had Sam heard the Nestene Consciousness's thought when he hadn't? The only other way was if the Nestene had purposely projected to Sam. If that was so, the Nestene had made a mistake. He'd been addressing a Time Lord, and the only one in the room was the Doctor. But telepaths very rarely made mistakes of that nature. Whoever Sam Tyler was, he certainly had a powerful mind.

"Okay," said the Doctor suddenly, smiling uncharacteristically friendlily at Sam. "Let's go." He turned sharply on his heel and was about to place his hand on the door handle, but Sam said suddenly, "Doctor."

"Yes?" said the Doctor, turning around again.

"Listen…there's something I have to tell you," said Sam, looking a bit uncomfortable as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

The Doctor silently waited for Sam to spill.

"I'm…straight."

It took the Doctor a moment to react. "What?"

"Yeah, I mean, you're a good looking bloke and all, but I…I don't swing that way," Sam said, shrugging his shoulders.

The Doctor still did not follow. "Er…what do you mean?"

Sam sighed and said gently, "So if you've invited me onto your ship because you think you and me-"

"Oh! Oh, no, no!" said the Doctor quickly, finally understanding. "No, absolutely not!"

"No?" said Sam, looking a little relieved.

"Trust me, I'm really not looking for that kind of relationship," assured the Doctor.

"Good," said Sam, taking his hands out of his pockets and dropping his arms, relaxed. "'Cause I have a girlfriend, you know. And like I said-"

"You don't swing that way, got it," said the Doctor, in a hurry to check out the new frontier he landed them in (and in a hurry to get away from this awkward subject). "Now, can we please go?"

"Yeah, sure, of course," said Sam distractedly. "Er, Doctor?"

"What?!" the Doctor groaned, whirling around.

"Do you…swing that way?" Sam immediately looked at his shoes.

The Doctor was taken by surprise with this question. "Well, I…I mean…" He sighed. "Listen, Sam. I've made a lot of friends over the years. I'm not as young as I look. And yes, some of them…I do…dance with."

"'Dance'?" repeated Sam.

"Yes, dance," said the Doctor, the tips of his colossal ears reddening.

"And some of them…male?" persisted Sam.

The Doctor thought back. On Gallifrey, there really was no concept of sexual orientation. In fact, gender was really only a mindset (a constriction for some, considering that Time Lords had the ability to change sex. The Doctor himself had always been male, but someday, perhaps…). Plus, the whole process of reproduction on Gallifrey was achieved by means of incubation. The offspring were reared in artificial genetic looms, so the activity of sex in of itself was really just recreational. The Gallifreyan race saw individuals' souls, rather than their anatomy. The "hipsters" from the human race would call it "pansexual". So no, he'd never really differentiated between men and women.

The truth was, the Doctor had had several "dancing" partners over the years, both male and female. Susan, his granddaughter, had a grandmother. A female grandmother, to be clear. He'd had a few dalliances with men and women throughout the universe. Queens and princesses seemed to be particularly drawn to him (a few princes, too).

The Doctor had never particularly traveled with anyone he'd "danced" with, save for a special few. There was Fitz Kreiner, whom he had traveled with in his eighth life, as well a few shared kisses with Grace Holloway, though she ultimately turned down his offer to join him in the TARDIS. Then there was Turlough in his fifth life, and he was pretty sure Romana and his fourth self had danced a bit too. Although, it was hard to remember. They went to quite a few mad parties, usually stocked with plenty of hyper-vodka. Anything could have happened.

And, of course, in his younger days, there was Susan's grandmother, and then in his second form, he'd danced a bit with his companion, Jamie McCrimmon. He didn't really know why. The enthusiastic Highlander was really just a boy when the Doctor had picked him up. Maybe it was the dark shaggy hair, or the youthful fighter's spirit. But Jamie had undoubtedly reminded the Doctor of…

"Yes. A couple," the Doctor answered finally.

Sam nodded. "Hey, that's cool. None of my business though. Sorry," he added.

The Doctor kind of laughed at this, though Sam fancied he could read a kind of pained look on the Doctor's face, as if he'd drudged up some old, hurtful memory. "It's just strange," commented the Doctor. "Most of the time, the people I pick up usually ask stuff like 'how is the TARDIS bigger on the inside' or 'where are you from' or 'what's your real name'. But you, you leap right in for the big question: sex."

"Well, let me put it this way…" Sam rubbed the back of his neck, not sure how to word it. The Doctor, a.k.a. Theta Sigma, had to be the same man from his visions. "Have you ever loved anyone?"

"Sure," said the Doctor, shrugging. "Tons of people."

"No, Doctor. I don't mean family, I don't mean friends. I mean, have you ever been in a serious, committed relationship. Have you ever been in love."

The questions came out in statements. The Doctor swallowed, and his mind wandered to long ago. Centuries back, to his Academy years, to his…

"Once. But it was a long time ago."

The tone in the Doctor's voice rang with finality. "Now," said the Doctor, finally getting a hand on that doorknob. "Let's go see where we've landed. Shall we?"

Sam nodded.

The Doctor smiled. "Fantastic."

And he opened the door.

The TARDIS had landed in a simple enough looking room. The walls were beige, the floor was tile. The room, void of much furniture, was alit with small blue lamps placed strategically around the perimeter.

The TARDIS was perched on top of a higher level. The center of the room was sunk in. Sam descended the steps to head toward the opposite wall, where the most spectacular thing about the room was. And spectacular it was indeed.

"You lot," said the Doctor, flanking Sam. "You spend all your time thinking about dying. Like you're gonna get killed by eggs or beef or global warming or asteroids." He stared out at the same thing Sam was focused on. "But you never take the time to imagine the impossible…that maybe you survive."

They were in space.

Sam and the Doctor were both staring out of a wide picture window, which gave visage to an extraordinary vista: the stars, as Sam had never seen them before. The sky was an inky black blanket, with tiny white diamonds superimposed on it. The room, as it were, was apparently part of some kind of space station. And it was directly stationed over a huge, luminous blue orb, swirling with white clouds: Earth. As seen from the heavens.

They were in space. He, Sam Tyler, was in space.

"This is the year five-point-five-slash-apple-twenty-six," said the Doctor, as Sam continued to gaze, entranced, at the breath taking view. "Five billion years in your future. And this is the day…hold on," he muttered, checking his wrist watch (which Sam now realized was rather silly to wear. For a time traveler, the only function a watch would have was telling you how much time had passed). He waited a moment, then looked up.

As if on cue, the scene outside burst with fiery light. The sun, Sam realized.

"This is the day it expands," said the Doctor, nodding to the enormous fireball, towering over the calm blue sphere. He gave Sam a look that held all the wisdom and experience the universe had ever produced.

"Welcome to the end of the world."

Chapter 7: The Companion, Volume 7

Notes:

Chapter based on "The End Of The World" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: April 2, 2005 (2/3).
Contains scenes from Planet of Fire by Peter Grimwade, original air date: February 23, 1984.

Chapter Text

Shuttles five and six now docking. Guests are reminded that Platform One forbids the use of weapons, teleportation, and religion, announced a computerized voice over a PA system.

Sam stared out the bay window in astonishment. "How long's it got?" asked Sam.

"About half an hour," said the Doctor, again checking his watch. "Then the whole planet gets roasted."

"Is that why we're here?" asked Sam. "I mean, is that what you do? Jump in at the last minute and save the Earth?"

"I'm not saving it," said the Doctor. "Time's up."

"But…" Sam gazed out at the orange and blue and black scape before him. "What about the people?"

"It's empty," said the Doctor. "They're all gone. No one left."

Sam let this sink in. "Just me then."

Don't be so sure.

"Who the hell are you?!" Sam's thoughts were disrupted by a sharp, hoity-toity voice. He whirled around to a see a towering figure in a regal gold and brown robe, complete with matching headpiece. But what was shocking was the man's (It was a man, right?) face. His skin was bright blue, even brighter blue than the TARDIS, as if the man took a bath in paint. His eyebrows were sharp, black lines arching highly over his gold colored, slitted eyes.

"Oh, that's nice, thanks," said the Doctor nonchalantly, as if bright blue, snake-eyed people were a daily occurrence in his life. (They probably were, thought Sam to himself.)

"How did you get in?" demanded Blue, marching straight up to the Doctor. "This is a maximum hospitality zone! The guests have disembarked! They're on their way any second now."

"That's me," said the Doctor cheerfully, pulling a well worn leather wallet out of his leather jacket (for a moment, Sam wondered what else the Doctor had in leather, then blushed at that thought) and flipping it open. "I'm a guest," he said, showing Blue some identification. "Look, I've got an invitation. The Doctor, plus one. I'm the Doctor, and this is Sam Tyler, my plus one," he said, jerking a thumb at Sam. "Is that alright?"

The blue maître d' gave pause to this. "Well…obviously," he said, pulling himself together. "Apologies, et cetera. If you're on board, we'd better start. Enjoy." And with a flap of his robe, he turned on his heel and took his position behind the podium.

"Psychic paper," said the Doctor, showing Sam his wallet. Inside, he saw a simple, blank piece of white paper. "It shows them whatever I want them to see. Saves a lot of time."

"I don't see anything," said Sam.

The Doctor's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"Is that…bad?" Sam asked tentatively.

"Er…no," said the Doctor, quickly stowing the wallet away in his jacket again.

"So…he's blue," said Sam.

"Sorry if it's not your favorite color," said the Doctor.

"No, it's just that he's…" Sam tried to find the right word.

"Alien?"

"Yeah. That."

The Doctor nodded. "I did warn you. And they'll be a lot more where that came from."

"We have in attendance the Doctor and Sam Tyler," said Blue, in an announcer's voice. "Thank you. All staff to their positions."

A dozen or so butlers came scuttling out. They looked identical to the host, except dressed in simple black robes. "See what I mean?" said the Doctor to Sam. "And this is just the tip of the iceberg. Watch."

"Come along, come along," the host urged the staff. "And now, if I might introduce the next honored guest?"

Sam's eyes drank in all the patrons of the platform with the wide eyed amazement of a child: curious, eager, and amazed, but not disbelieving.

To be honest, Sam had grown up secretly wanting to be an astronaut. To put on the white suit, climb into the shuttle, and take off for new frontiers. Explore planets and meet new life forms not native to Earth. Never did he expect to actually achieve this goal. Especially not in this context!

There were the tree people from the Forest of Cheam, Jabe, Lute, and Coffa. Then there was the Moxx of Balhoon, a short, stubby-legged creature with grey-blue skin and a lightbulb shaped skull. This specimen was the closest in resemblance to the "aliens" in Sam's Earth's pop culture. The Adherents of the Repeated Meme were a ominous looking group, sheathed completely in black cloaks. The brothers Hop Plyleen, inventors of something or other, looked like Earth alligators that simply walked on their hind legs and wore clothing. The Face of Boe, a giant, wrinkled face in a jar. And so many others.

The tree woman, Jabe, approached Sam and the Doctor first. "The gift of peace," she said, beckoning her bodyguard, Lute (or was it Coffa?) to hand the Doctor a potted plant. "I bring you a cutting from my grandfather," she said, gazing upon them regally. She was clearly royalty on her planet, whatever it was called.

"Thank you," said the Doctor, sounding humbled, as he took the plant. He handed the plant off to Sam, muttering, "Yes, gifts…um…" He cleared his throat. "I give you in return…air from my lungs." He blew into the tree woman's face.

Sam wondered what the Doctor had eaten last.

The tree woman didn't seem to mind; in fact, she seemed to absorb the Doctor's breath gladly. "How…intimate," she said. Sam couldn't be sure, but were the patches of bark where Jabe's cheeks should be blushing?

"There's more where that came from," said the Doctor, smiling.

Jabe looked the Doctor over briefly. "I bet there is," she said, smiling as well.

Sam raised an eyebrow.

As the trees moved on, the other various aliens came up and greeted the Doctor. Sam was spit on by the Moxx of Balhoon (well, he supposed that wasn't much better than the Doctor's "air from my lungs" bit), and the Adherents handed the Doctor a simple looking metal ball.

"And last but not least," announced the host. "Our very special guest. Ladies and gentlemen, and trees, and multiforms, consider the Earth below. In memory of this dying world, we call forth the last human…the Lady Cassandra O'Brien Dot Delta Seventeen."

Oh good, thought Sam. I won't be the only…

But upon seeing the Lady Cassandra, he quickly changed his mind.

She (it?) was…flat. Completely and totally flat.

Lady Cassandra was Silly Putty. Flesh colored Silly Putty that someone had stretched across a metal frame. Her translucent skin was so tightly stretched out that Sam could make faint blood vein occasionally pulsing through her. The only other distinguishable feature about her was her face: two eyes caked with eyeliner, two faint nose holes, and rougey red lips, accompanied by a small brown beauty mark.

"Oh, now, don't stare," she said, smiling a wide lipstick smile at the other patrons as her attendants wheeled her metal frame in. The attendants themselves were all in white, and carrying huge spray bottles, like insect exterminators. "I know, I know, it's shocking, isn't it? I've had my chin completely taken away, and look at the difference! Look how thin I am. Thin and dainty!" She beamed. "I don't look a day over 2000!" Then, to her attendants, she whispered, "Moisturize me. Moisturize me."

The attendant to her left spritzed the surface of Cassandra's flesh with the spray bottle.

Cassandra smiled proudly. "Truly, I am the last human."

Beside Sam, the Doctor was silently laughing. "That's…human?" Sam whispered in horror. "In the future?"

"Yep," said the Doctor, having trouble holding in his sniggers.

Sam slowly crept around the room to view the back of Cassandra as she continued to speak. "My father was a Texan," she said. "My mother was from the arctic desert. They were born on the Earth and were the last to be buried in its soil. I have come to honor them and say goodbye." She gave a clearly feigned sniffle. "Oh, no tears, no tears. I'm sorry. But behold, I bring gifts. From Earth itself…the last remaining ostrich egg."

Behind her, a butler came in, carrying the egg. "Legend says it had a wingspan of fifty feet and blew fire from its nostrils," said Cassandra, then paused. "Or was that my third husband? Oh, no. Oh, don't laugh. I'll get laughter lines!" She struggled to keep her composure. "And here, another rarity."

Another butler came in, wheeling in a 1950's jukebox. "According to the archives, this was called an iPod. It stores classical music from humanity's greatest composers. Play on!"

The butler pressed a button. A record inside began spinning, and Soft Cell's "Tainted Love" played out of the machine.

"Refreshments will be served," said the host over the music. "Earth death in thirty minutes."

The Doctor, enjoying the music, caught sight of Sam rushing for the doors. He made to go after him, but was stopped by the tree queen. "Smile," said Jabe, taking what the Doctor assumed was a picture with what he assumed was a camera. "Thank you," she said, smiling mysteriously.

The Doctor nodded to the queen, then rushed off after his companion.

Sam had found his way back to the room where the TARDIS had materialized. He was messing around with the metal ball the Adherents have given he and the Doctor.

Earth death in twenty five minutes, said the cool electronic voice over the loud speaker.

"Oh, yeah. Great," said Sam.

He sighed and set the ball down. He looked at the plant beside him, the one that the tree lady had given him. He picked it up and looked at it. "Hello," he said. "I'm Sam…I used to have a cactus. But…it died. I gave it too much water; apparently, cacti don't need that much water…I'm talking to a twig," he said, putting the plant back down.

"Sam? Are you in there?" The doors slid open and the Doctor entered. "Aye-aye," he said, plopping down on the floor next to Sam. "What do you think, then?"

"Well, to be honest…weird. Really weird," answered Sam honestly.

"Oh?" The Doctor propped up his head with his hand. "What do you mean?"

"It's just…they're alien. The aliens are alien," said Sam. "You look at them…and they're alien."

"Good thing I didn't take you to the deep south," said the Doctor, chuckling a bit.

Sam gave the Doctor a long hard look. "So…where are you from, anyway?"

The Doctor shrugged. "All over the place."

Sam thought of that meadow of scarlet grass, with the orange and yellow sky. The alien planet. Koschei's planet. "They all speak English," he said, suddenly realizing this.

"No. You just hear English." The Doctor lay down on his side. "Gift of the TARDIS. Gets inside your head, translates."

Sam was silent. "Bloody hell…look. Just who exactly are you, Doctor? I mean, I know you're a bit of a space pimp, but other than that, I just don't know anything about you. I mean…what are you called? What sort of alien are you?"

"I'm just the Doctor," he said shortly, sitting up and looking away.

"From what planet?"

The Doctor snorted a bit at this. "It's not as if you'd know where it is."

And in that moment, Sam could tell that the Doctor was thinking of that orange planet too. "Where are you from?" he pressed. He wanted a name.

"What does it matter?" snapped the Doctor.

"Tell me who you are!"

"This is who I am, right here, right now! Alright?!" shouted the Doctor. "All that counts is here and now, and this is me!"

"Yeah, and I'm here too!" Sam exclaimed. "Because you brought me here!"

"You're the one that wanted to come," grumbled the Doctor, getting up and stomping away to stare out the wide window.

The computerized voice above announced that the death of the Earth would be in twenty minutes. Sam sighed and came beside the Doctor. "Well…as Annie would say…don't argue with the designated driver. Sorry."

The Doctor grunted, and Sam assumed he was forgiven. There was an awkward silence. "Anyone you want to call?" asked the Doctor finally.

"Huh?" Sam thought of Annie. "No. Not really. I mean, what's the point? Everyone I know died five billion years ago."

"Bundle of laughs, you are," commented the Doctor.

Suddenly, the space station rumbled a bit. "That's not supposed to happen," said the Doctor.

Suddenly, the cool computerized voice came on over the intercom. Sun filter descending. Sun filter descending. Sun filter descending.

"Uh, Doctor?" asked Sam. "What do they mean by 'sun filter descending'?"

The Doctor turned to look at him, fear alight in his blue eyes. "It means we're all going to die!"

The Doctor managed to save Sam and most of the others on board. Unfortunately, Jabe the tree queen, the steward, the Moxx, and a few others were lost.

But he let Cassandra die.

"Have pity!" she cried. "Moisturize me! Oh, oh, Doctor! Oh, I'll do anything!"

"Help her," said Sam quietly. "Isn't that what you do?"

The Doctor wouldn't look at Sam. "Everything has its time. And everything dies."

"I'm…too…young!" And like a balloon, Cassandra's flesh withered and popped.

The Doctor, without a word, turned and walked away. And Sam followed.

The Master laughed wickedly. The numismation gas had revived him back to his full size, and now, he had more power than he knew what to do with.

The Doctor, in his fifth form, watched on in horror. From the blue blaze, the Master cried out, "I shall come out of this fire a thousand times stronger, to hound you to the borders of the universe!"

But Turlough had succeeded below in cutting off the gas feed. The blue flames faded to bare yellow fire.

The Master, unable to move, watched in horror as the flames that once revived him now began to burn away at his flesh. "No!" he cried out. "Cancel the ray injection immediately!" he ordered the Doctor.

But the Doctor simply stood there, watching, unable to move.

"Doctor!" roared the Master. "I'll plague you till the end of time for this!" Then he changed his tactics. "Help me! I'll give you anything in creation. Please!"

But the Doctor still just stood there, unwilling to save him.

The Master stared at the Doctor, heartbrokenly. He whispered, in one last attempt to reach out whatever was left of his old friend, "Won't you show mercy to your own-"

But his final plea was cut off by cries of agony as the Master burned to a crisp.

The Doctor, in shock, watched the flames continue to sizzle and pop, then turned and walked back to his TARDIS, a heaviness in his hearts.

"Doctor?" asked the American girl, Peri, as the Doctor came in and took his place at the console. "Are you okay?"

The Doctor blinked. He had forgotten she was there. "Er, yes, of course. I'm alright."

The TARDIS brought them to a street corner in London, in Sam's time. "You think it'll last forever," said the Doctor. "People and cars and concrete. But it won't. One day, it's all gone." The Doctor looked up. "Even the sky."

Sam watched the Doctor as he spoke. The Doctor took a long breath.

"My planet's gone," said the Doctor. "It's dead." He looked at Sam. "It burned, like the Earth. It's just rocks and dust." He looked at the ground. "Before its time."

Sam wasn't sure what to say. "What…happened?" he asked.

The Doctor blinked. "There was a war. And we lost."

Sam felt a seizing pain, and the drums in his head increased. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four. "A war with who?" he asked, ignoring them.

But the Doctor didn't reply.

Sam cleared his throat. "What about your people?" he asked.

The Doctor finally looked back up. "I'm a Time Lord," he admitted. "I'm the last of the Time Lords. They're all gone. I'm the only survivor."

Don't be so sure.

"I'm left traveling on my own, cause there's no one else," said the Doctor.

"You're not alone," said Sam. "There's me."

The Doctor smiled a bit. This Sam kid was a nice bloke. Why did he remind him of someone… "You've seen how dangerous it is," said the Doctor. "Do you want to go home?"

Sam shook his head. "No. Not really. I want…" But a certain smell caught his fancy. "Oh. Can you smell chips?" It had just occurred to Sam that he hadn't eaten in a long time.

The Doctor sniffed the air and laughed. "Yeah."

"I want chips," said Sam. That was the one thing he was sure about right now.

"Me too," said the Doctor, grinning again. Sam was glad. The Doctor had a nice grin.

"Right then," said Sam, grinning himself. "Before we take off again, chips it is. And you can pay," he added.

The Doctor shrugged. "No money."

Sam snorted. "Right tightwad you are. Fine. Chips on me, then. After all, we've only got five billion years till the shops close!"

Chapter 8: The Companion, Volume 8

Notes:

Chapter based on "The End Of The World" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: April 2, 2005 (3/3).

Chapter Text

"So, Sam," said the Doctor, licking salt off of his fingers. "What about you?"

Sam shrugged. "What about me?"

"I mean, who are you? Who is Sam Tyler? Is Sam short for 'Samuel'? Got a middle name?"

Sam laughed. "Who's being nosy now?"

"I want to know," said the Doctor. "I mean, all you've done is ask me questions."

"Excuse me," said Sam, raising a haughty eyebrow. "I do believe I saved your arse from some wicked mean store dummies, thank you very much."

"I meant after that," said the Doctor dismissively. "Stop dodging the question. What are you about?"

"Oh, I don't know. Just your average bloke, I guess."

"Really? Nothing at all?" the Doctor asked. "What about a family? You got a family, don't you?"

Sam ate a chip and chewed slowly and thoroughly before speaking. He knew he was driving the Doctor mad, but he didn't care. Frankly, it made laugh a little to see the Doctor asking questions and not receiving answers. Give him a taste of his own medicine.

"No family," he finally said. "Just foster parents. The Tylers, Jackie and Pete. They were my first. But the missus gave me up. Couldn't raise a child alone. Husband got hit by a car and died. I don't remember much though, was only a tot back then. But that's how I got my name: Sam Tyler. I didn't have a name beforehand. I was found as a baby on the stoop of the orphanage. So they named me. And I kept it."

Sam paused a bit, then added, "I tried to get in touch with the missus a few years ago. But somehow, the agency lost track of her. Sad. I wish I could tell her thank you. Both of them, really."

"So, after that…what happened?" asked the Doctor.

"Oh, I switched around from foster family to foster family. I had five or six or so. But," he laughed a little, "I was kind of a problem child. I always was getting into trouble."

"How so?" asked the Doctor.

Sam laughed again. "Did you know…I wanted to be an astronaut? Yeah. See space and all that. Never really pictured actually doing it, especially not like this. But yeah…I was always trying to build rocket ships out of old spare parts. One time, my foster mum found me in the garage, nine years old, trying to build a space ship out of the parts from her husband's car! Should've seen her face!"

The Doctor cracked up at this. "Yeah, it was pretty bad," said Sam. "Needless to say…I was shortly deported back to the adoption agency."

"Well, what was high school like?" asked the Doctor. "Did you ever get your a-levels?"

"No," said Sam. "I was too busy getting a band together with my mate, Jimmy Stone."

"What did you play?" asked the Doctor, curious.

"The drums."

"Ah," said the Doctor. "And the name of this band?"

"'Driveshaft'," replied Sam. "We all lived in an apartment in the Powell Estates together. Me, Jimmy, and these two brothers, Liam and Charlie Pace. We had one song, and it was really great. Got on the radio and everything. It was one of those songs that's popular just cause it's really catchy. It went 'you all everybody…you all everybody…'"

The Doctor suddenly joined in. "Actin' like them stupid people, wearin' expensive clothes."

"You know it?" asked Sam, surprised.

The Doctor laughed. "Of course I know it! Even a hundred years in the future, that song is still around. I just can't believe I'm actually talkin' to one of the original artists! You're like Ringo in the future, you know that?"

"Yeah, but Ringo's the one no one really paid much attention to," Sam pointed out.

The Doctor shrugged. "Ah, still. Well, why did Driveshaft break up? Wasn't it a drug problem, or something?"

"Yeah…oh, no, not me!" he added, seeing the Doctor's shocked expression. "No, I'd never do something like that, no. Liam and Jimmy, they got into the heroin, and later, so did Charlie, and by that time, we were dying out. So, the band broke up. Charlie and Jimmy went off God knows where, and Liam went to Australia to get himself clean. Hope it works. Poor mate."

"So long story short, I moved into the apartment by myself, took a job at Hunt's Department Shop, and boom. Full circle," Sam concluded, chucking his chips wrapper in the trash bin.

The Doctor nodded, having soaked all this in. "And…what about Annie?"

Sam laughed. "That is a long story. I guess I have Jimmy to thank for her."

"What, he introduced you two?"

"In a manner of speaking," Sam chuckled. "He and Liam had been getting zonked before a concert, and when they got out on stage, they were pretty drunk. The cops had to end up being called. I went with the two of them to the police station, and the constable on staff was Annie. We got to talking and joking, and before I know it, I'm asking her out for coffee. Annie's the best thing that ever happened to me, honestly."

"Although," he added after a thought. "This whole adventure we've had? It definitely comes a close second."

The Doctor hid a smile. "Yeah, well…you looked bored."

"Not bored," said Sam. "Just…lost, I guess. And besides, you looked like you didn't have a friend in the world. Everybody needs a mate…no, not like that!" he exclaimed at the Doctor's surprised look. "I meant…you know…a buddy. A pal. You know."

"Yeah…" After a moment of looking far off, the Doctor jumped up. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

Chapter 9: The Companion, Volume 9

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Unquiet Dead" by Mark Gatiss, original air date: April 9, 2005.
Contains scenes from /Doctor Who/ by Matthew Jacobs, original air date: May 12, 1996 (Canada).

Chapter Text

"Hold that one down!"

"I am holding this one down!"

"Well hold both of them down!"

"It's not going to work!" Sam cried out in frustration, straining to reach the lever while maintaining his grip on the other. He asked the Doctor curiously if he would teach him how to fly the TARDIS, but for some reason, it wasn't going very well.

"Oi! I promised you a time machine and that's what you're getting!" The Doctor punched a few buttons, and the shaking continued, but thankfully became less fervent. The Doctor looked triumphant. "Now, you've seen the future. Let's have a look at the past! 1860, how does 1860 sound?"

"What happened in 1860?" asked Sam.

"I don't know, let's find out. Hold on, here we go!" The Doctor grabbed a lever and pulled back.

The TARDIS touched down with a nasty jolt, sending Sam and the Doctor crashing to the floor. "Blimey," groaned Sam as the Doctor let out a joyous cackle.

"You're telling me. You alright?" asked the Doctor.

"Yeah, I think so," said Sam, laughing now as well. "Nothing broken." He stood up and joined the Doctor at the computer. "Did we make it? Where are we?"

"I did it! Give the man a medal," cheered the Doctor. He was in rather a good mood, having Sam on board. The TARDIS didn't feel quite so empty now. "Earth, Naples, December 24, 1860."

"Why Christmas Eve?" asked Sam.

"Dunno," shrugged the Doctor. "Sounds good though."

"It's just…brilliant," said Sam, grinning. "Because this, here, now…it's all over. Except for you, though."

The Doctor smiled. "Not a bad life, eh?"

Sam shrugged, looking away. "Yeah, but…better with a friend, right?"

The Doctor nodded. "Friends are good."

"Well…come on, then," said Sam, breaking for the door.

"Oi, where do you think you're going?" asked the Doctor.

"Er…1860?"

"Go out there dressed like that, you'll start a riot, Marty McFly," teased the Doctor, gesturing to Sam's blue jeans, grey trainers, casual button up, and black hoodie. "There's a wardrobe through there. First left, second right, third on the left, go straight ahead, under the stairs, past the bins, fifth door on your left."

Sam rolled his eyes. "A costume change. Are you joshing me, mate?"

"I never josh…much," said the Doctor, flashing a toothy grin reminiscent of his fourth incarnation. "Now hurry up!"

Laughing, Sam took off up the stairs.

"I suppose he neglected to mention there won't be any place left to spend your money!" The Doctor's words were punctuated by a sharp slap from Grace, heavily under the Master's mind control. She was beyond help, but if he could make the boy see reason-

"Which is why we have no time to waste," said a sinister voice from the balcony of the TARDIS.

The Doctor, strapped securely to the gurney, twisted his head around to address the Master. "But time to change!" he shouted sardonically, as the Master descended the staircase, adorned with formal Gallifreyan robes, black and crimson with grand gold embroidery.

The Master, in his stolen American body, smiled wickedly. His feline-like eyes (surely remnants of the virus he had contracted on the cheetah planet) were still sheathed behind aviator-style sunglasses. He gestured with his arms, modeling his ensemble. "I always dress for the occasion."

The Doctor was ferreting around in the "basement" of the TARDIS with his sonic screwdriver when Sam emerged. "I don't know, Doctor. D'ya think it's too…much?"

"What?" The Doctor raised his head and stopped short.

Sam was dressed in simple black trousers and shoes, a white shirt with grand baggy sleeves, a dark burgundy vest, and a black floppy bow tie. He looked surprisingly dashing. The Doctor was quite taken off guard. "Blimey…" he finally said.

"Oi, one little giggle-" Sam threatened.

"No, no, you look…" The Doctor cleared his throat. "Very period appropriate," he said, looking down, continuing to scan the ship's wiring. He was trying to hide his pink cheeks.

"Er…I think that's a compliment," said Sam. Then he realized that the Doctor was still wearing his normal clothes. "Aren't you going to change?" he asked.

"I changed my jumper," said the Doctor cheekily. He climbed up to the main level of the control room and headed to the door. "Come on!"

"No!" said Sam, racing him. "You get to do this all the time. This one's my turn!"

Sam opened the door…and a light fall of snow immediately fell into his light brown hair. "Er, Doctor…" he called. "I don't think we're in Naples."

The Doctor joined him outside. He took in their surroundings. Then, he curiously stuck out his tongue, as if tasting the air. "Hm. You're right. My landing was a bit off. This isn't 1860, it's 1869. And it's not Naples, either. It's Cardiff."

"Oh…Cardiff," said Sam, a bit disappointed. He had been excited to see Italy, a place he'd never been to, even in present day. There wasn't much special about Cardiff.

"Ah, well," said the Doctor, shrugging. "It's still Christmas Eve." He grinned at Sam mischievously. "Let's go get into some trouble, shall we?"

"You know, when you said 'trouble', I didn't think you meant it literally," said Sam later to the Doctor, when he showed up at the funeral home where Sneed and his servant girl had brought him when they kidnapped him. Sam had been knocked out by Sneed and woken up to find two corpses coming to life before his eyes and stalking him like prey. Blimey, first the mannequins and now this!

"It must be a prank. Must be," said the other man the Doctor had shown up with. He looked familiar to Sam for some reason. He had curly brown hair, and a curly beard and mustache to match. He looked to be about in his late fifties, and he spoke with a sort of poetic diction. "We're under some mesmeric influence."

"No, we're not. The dead are walking," negated the Doctor. Then, he added to Sam, "Hi, by the way."

"Hi," said Sam. "Nice of you to drop in. Who's your friend?"

"Ah, yeah, this is Charles Dickens," said the Doctor nonchalantly.

"Oh. Your parents named you after the writer, then?" asked Sam.

The Doctor stared at Sam, waiting patiently.

"Oh…ohhh," said Sam, realization dawning on him. "Bloody hell…"

As it turned out, the dead weren't really rising. The Doctor explained that there was a rift in Cardiff, a rift in time and space, and that something was sneaking through and inhabiting the bodies. The Doctor wasn't sure what the entities were, but they seemed to be some sort of gas creatures. Charles-Sam still couldn't get over it. The Charles Dickens!-just wouldn't accept it.

Sam decided he needed to do something normal, so he helped the servant girl, Gwyneth, wash dishes. She claimed that he needn't bother, but Sam insisted. "Seems like that old piss works you to death. How much does he pay you, anyway?"

"Eight pounds a year, sir," she said, in her quiet Welsh accent.

Sam was shocked. "I know," nodded Gwyneth, studying Sam's face. "I would've been happy with six." Blimey, how things change in a century and a half.

"So…did you even go to school, or what?" asked Sam.

Gwyneth laughed a bit. "Of course I did. What do you think I am, some sort of urchin? I went every Sunday, nice and proper."

"Only once a week," marveled Sam. "Well, where I'm from, that'd be considered lucky."

"We did sums and everything," said Gwyneth. "To be honest…" She lowered her voice. "I hated every second."

Sam laughed. "Me too."

"Don't tell anyone," said Gwyneth, "but one week…I didn't go. I ran on the heath all on my own!"

Sam realized that the girl was probably opening up for the first time in a long time. Right shame. Poor girl doesn't have anyone to talk to but dead bodies and that old wanker Sneed. "I did plenty of that," he admitted. "My and my mate Jimmy. We'd go down to this guy's basement and drink beers."

Gwyneth blushed. "Well, I don't know about that, sir," she said, turning away.

"Ah, come on," laughed Sam. "Times haven't changed that much, have they? I mean, don't tell me you've never nipped a little at the cooking sherry."

"I don't think so, sir," she whispered, pretending to concentrate on drying a plate.

"Gwyneth, you can tell me," said Sam. "We're mates, aren't we?"

Gwyneth finally turned around, a sheepish grin on her face. "Well…there was this one time…"

"Ah, see, I knew it," said Sam, grinning.

Gwyneth got a dreamy look in her eye. "It was a warm summer night. A few of my school mates were gathered outside a pub. The butcher's boy managed to swipe some mead for all of us…I had a little too much, I think. So much that I…" She let out a giggle. "I kissed him!"

Sam laughed appreciatively. "Well, sometimes, you've gotta plunge in, headfirst."

"Like you did with the Doctor?" asked Gwyneth.

Sam was suddenly taken aback. "What?!"

"Isn't he your…" Gwyneth reddened.

"No, no! It's nothing like that, I swear," said Sam, also blushing furiously. "I've got a girl back home, love." It was just then that Sam realized that he had not thought of Annie for some time since taking off with the Doctor.

"Ah. I see," said Gwyneth, clearly embarrassed. "Please pardon me, sir."

"Ah, it's okay. Wouldn't be the first time someone's thought that I...but for the record, if anyone out there still cares, I'm not gay," he added.

Gwyneth looked confused. "You're unhappy?"

"Oh, no," said Sam. "See, where I come from, a 'gay' man is one that likes other men."

Gwyneth shook her head. "I swear. It is the strangest thing, sir. You've got the clothes and the breeding, but you talk like some sort of rabble-rouser."

Sam shrugged. "Maybe I am. Not necessarily a bad thing, though." He added gently, "you need more in your life than Mr. Sneed."

Gwyneth smiled sadly. "Oh, that's not fair," she defended. "He's not so bad, old Sneed. He was very kind to take me in. I lost my mum and dad to the flu when I was twelve."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Sam empathetically.

"Thank you, sir," said Gwyneth, her face mirroring Sam's sympathy. "But we must remember that someday, we'll be with the ones we love again. Maybe your friend's up there too, sir."

"Maybe," said Sam. "Um…wait, what friend?"

Gwyneth, realizing she'd said too much, quickly turned back to the washbasin and began drying another plate. "I don't know…just ignore me," said Gwyneth.

"Gwyneth?" asked Sam, now very worried. "What do you know?"

Gwyneth shook her head. "Mr. Sneed says I talk too much. I'm all alone down here. I bet you've got tons of servants where you're from, eh?"

"No," said Sam. "No servants in the Powell Estates."

"Mm," mused Gwyneth. "And you've come such a long way."

Sam's blood ran cold. "What…what makes you say that?"

Gwyneth tilted her head. "You're from London…no. There's another place in your head. A field on fire. Red grass and orange sky, and two sunsets. And there's…a school? Where boys and girls go to learn…far beyond human capacity. Yes. It's unearthly, that place. And the place has magic coaches that fly, or something of the like…and you flown in one. Flown so far…you've seen the darkness. The big, bad wolf!" She stopped. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, sir."

"No, it's…it's fine," said Sam, feeling sick.

"I can't help it," whispered Gwyneth fearfully. "Ever since I was a little girl, my mum said I had the sight. She told me to hide it!"

"But it's getting stronger," said a voice that made them both jump. The Doctor was standing there, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. "More powerful, is that right?"

Gwyneth swallowed. "All the time, sir," she whispered. "Every night…voices in my head."

"You grew up on top of the rift," said the Doctor. "You're part of it. You're the key."

"I've tried to make sense of it, sir," said Gwyneth. "Consulted with spiritualists, table rappers, all sorts."

"Well, that should help," said the Doctor. "You can show us what to do."

"What to do where, sir?" asked Gwyneth.

The Doctor smiled. "We're going to have a séance."

The "ghosts", or rather, the Gelth, turned out to be the straggling last members of a species nearly wiped out by the Doctor's Time War. They asked to be let through the rift to inhabit the bodies of dead people.

"We can't," protested Sam.

"Why not?" said the Doctor, shrugging callously. "It's like recycling."

"But it's just…wrong, mate!" cried Sam in frustration. "Those bodies used to be people, we need to respect that!"

"Do you carry a donor card?" asked the Doctor.

Sam sputtered. "That's…completely irrelevant!"

The Doctor shrugged. "Get used to it, or go home."

Sam exhaled, trying hand not to punch the Doctor in the mouth. "Look, Doctor," he said, lowering his voice. "I know what this is about. You feel…guilty. You think that since your people are gone, you have to save these Gelth, but the fact is-"

"The fact is, this conversation is over." The Doctor stomped out of the room, leaving Sam hanging.

Sam beseeched Gwyneth not to do it, that she could be in danger, but Gwyneth proclaimed that she was meant to do this. "My angels," she said, smiling widely, showing a gap between her two front teeth. "I can help them live."

The Doctor should have listened to Sam.

The Gelth had lied. They were not dying out, and they did not want to take the corpses. They intend on taking all the bodies on Earth, dead or alive.

The Gelth cornered Sam and the Doctor, in a small alley behind a metal gate that wouldn't hold for long.

"I can't die, can I?" asked Sam, panicking. "I haven't even been born yet!"

"Time isn't a straight line," said the Doctor desperately. "It can twist into any shape. You can be born in the twentieth century and die in the nineteenth and it's all my fault. I brought you here."

"Hey," said Sam. "It's not your fault, Doctor. I wanted to come."

"What about me?" fretted the Doctor. "I saw the fall of Troy, World War V! I pushed boxes at the Boston Tea Party! And now, I'm going to die in a dungeon…in Cardiff!"

"Blimey…turned into a zombie. Not my first choice for death," commented Sam.

"You know, you have got a sick sense of humor sometimes, you know that?" said the Doctor. "Reminds me of this bloke I used to know."

"Well…we'll go down fighting, yeah?" said Sam.

"Yeah," said the Doctor.

"Together?"

"Yeah."

Sam felt the Doctor take his hand. The Doctor smiled, trying to hide his terror. "I'm so glad I met you," said the Doctor.

Sam smiled, also trying to be brave. "Me too."

But they didn't die that day. Charles Dickens ended up saving them. But it was Gwyneth, poor Gwyneth, who was the real hero. She gave her life to rid their world of the Gelth.

"She saved the world," said Sam. "A servant girl. And no one will ever know."

Charles left them in an uncharacteristically good mood. He said he was going home to spend Christmas with his family. "This morning, I thought I knew everything in the world!" he said gleefully. "Now I know I've just started. All these huge and wonderful notions, Doctor. I'm inspired. I must write about them."

"Good luck with it, and nice to meet you," said the Doctor. "Fantastic."

"Bye, and thanks," said Sam, warmly shaking the writer's hand.

"Oh, thank you, but…I don't understand," Charles said. "In what way is this goodbye? Where are you going?"

"In the 'shed'," said the Doctor, unlocking the TARDIS.

"Oh my soul," said the writer, shaking his head. "Doctor, it's one riddle after another with you. But after all these revelations, there's one mystery you still haven't explained. Answer me this: who are you?"

The Doctor hesitated before answering. He smiled sadly and said, "Just a friend, passing through."

"But you have such knowledge of future times. I don't wish to impose on you, but I must ask you. My books. Doctor…do they last?"

The Doctor grinned widely. "Oh, yes."

"For how long?"

"Forever," said the Doctor.

Charles smiled at this, looking like he might just cry.

"Right…shed," said the Doctor. "Come on, Sam."

"I-in the box?" asked the writer, looking the two men queerly. "Both of you?"

"Down, boy," laughed the Doctor. "See ya!"

Charles Dickens watched as the pair stepped inside the tiny blue box and shut the doors behind them. He looked with fervent amazement as the box began to fade in and out of existence, making a great wheezing noise as it disappeared from the street.

Charles found himself laughing as he turned and walked home. "Merry Christmas, sir!" said a man passing him in the street.

"Merry Christmas," the writer said merrily. "God bless us. Everyone!"

Chapter 10: The Companion, Volume 10

Notes:

Chapter based on "Aliens Of London" and "World War Three" by Russell T. Davies, original air dates: April 16 and 23, 2005.

Chapter Text

"So, where to next?" asked the Doctor, as Sam descended the stairs of the TARDIS, redressed in his normal wardrobe.

"Er…" Sam had actually been thinking about Annie ever since Gwyneth reminded him of her. "I was thinking we could stop at home."

"Home," repeated the Doctor, sounding confused.

"You know…Powell Estates, 2005?"

"Oh, yeah, of course!" The Doctor immediately turned to the console and began fiddling with the controls, not meeting Sam's eye. "Home. Well…I suppose it was only a matter of time anyway. Mind you, I did think it'd be a little while until…but I suppose if you want to go, that's your prerogative. So yeah…" The TARDIS materialized in the real world outside. "I guess this is it then. Home."

With a wistful smile, he shook Sam's hand firmly and said, "Had a fantastic time with you, Sam. Really fantastic. Honestly."

"Er…Doctor? I only meant for a visit."

The Doctor slowly dropped Sam's hand. "Oh. Yeah, I knew that."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Very pretty speech. Are you going to sing me a round of Whitney Houston as well?"

"Oi, shut it," said the Doctor, hiding his pink face as he walked out of the TARDIS. Sam followed, still chuckling.

"So…how long have I been gone?" he asked as he surveyed the familiar street. It felt like home, even with its litter and its pigeon dung and its graffiti all over the brick walls. He read the various tags on the walls subconsciously, realizing he'd never really read them before. Chad waz here. Go Bulldogs. Bad Wolf. Red Hawks rule. And others.

"About twelve hours," said the Doctor, leaning up against the doors of the TARDIS.

The two men laughed. It was insane. Sam felt like he'd been gone at least a week. And yet, it had all passed by so quickly. Life in the TARDIS, with the Doctor, was never a dull moment. "Right," said Sam. "Well, I just want to stop by my apartment, pick up a few things, see if Annie made it home alright, and then, you and me can be off before you can say 'Bob's your uncle'."

"I've never had a reason to say that," remarked the Doctor. "But I'll take your word for it. What are you going to tell your girlfriend?"

"Blimey, hadn't thought of that," said Sam, clapping a hand to his forehead. "Well, I'll think of something. Say, maybe she'll want to come with us-"

"No," said the Doctor quickly.

"What? Why not?" asked Sam.

"Because I said so," said the Doctor. "I don't want you two making my ship a domestic love nest."

"Listen, mate, you'd love Annie. She's brilliant, she's funny, she's tough…rather a lot like you, actually."

"Well, I'll think about it," said the Doctor, in a tone that clearly negated this statement. As far as it concerned the Doctor, he wasn't bringing some bird on board. Don't get the Doctor wrong, he'd had chicks on his ship before, obviously. Some of them, like Tegan, Romana, Ace, and Sarah Jane had been some of his best mates. But the Doctor already had a handful with Sam. He didn't need another damsel in distress.

"Well, see you later," said Sam, shaking the Doctor from his train of thought. He began to walk away, but stopped. "Er…you're not going to…fly away when I leave, are you?"

The Doctor walked over to Sam. He stared into Sam's green eyes with own steely blue ones and said, "Why do you think I'd leave you?"

Because you've done it before.

"I…dunno," said Sam uncomfortably, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Tell you what," said the Doctor, reaching into his own pocket and producing a strange looking metal disc on a chain and pressing it into Sam's hand. "TARDIS key," he said. "About time you had one."

Sam stared at the foreign key intently. "Thanks," he finally said. "Well…see you later." He turned around and headed for the flat complex, hiding his warm cheeks.

Sam climbed the stairs (Weird, when had the elevator broken?) up to his apartment and dug his key out of his pocket. He slipped it into the keyhole, but it wouldn't turn. "What the hell?" he muttered, jiggling the key.

Suddenly, the door opened from the inside. A short man with thinning hair, a sweater vest, and thick black glasses appeared. "Excuse me, young man, what do you think you're doing?" he asked.

Sam gaped at the man. "Who the hell are you? And how did you get in my apartment?"

"Your apartment? I've lived here for nine months."

Sam stared in disbelief. He looked at the number on the door, but yes, he did have the right door. "There must be some mistake," he stammered. "Because I've lived here for three years."

"You must be mistaken. Good day," said the bald man, quickly shutting the door in Sam's face.

"Wait!" Sam knocked on the door, but all he heard was the double bolt lock from the inside.

"What the hell?" he said. He pounded on the door. "Look, mate, I don't know what you're playing at, but this is my flat, and you are gonna let me in right now! I'll break down this door if I have to!"

The bald man called the cops.

"Ouch, ouch, oi, watch it!" he grumbled as the constable pushed him roughly into the station.

"Send for the DI," said the constable. "We got a live one here."

"That guy broke into my apartment!" shouted Sam. "He changed the locks! I-"

"Sam?"

Sam turned around. There stood a pretty woman with long, reddish brown hair and hazel eyes, in a DI's uniform. "Annie!" he exclaimed. "Explain it to these guys. Some man-" But he was cut off as Annie rushed into his arms and pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace…then she slapped him.

"Where the hell have you been?!" she shouted, tears brimming up in her eyes.

"Well, I…" Sam stammered, rubbing his smarting cheek. This was what he hadn't been prepared for. "Look, I-I'm sorry I didn't call you back last night, but-"

"Last night? Last night?!" she exclaimed, absolutely livid.

"Yeah, you see-" Then he caught sight of something behind her on the wall.

It was a missing person's poster, with his face on it. And right next to it, a calendar, set to March…2006.

"What?"

"Sam," whispered Annie, clearly trying to control her anger. "You've been missing a whole year."

Annie angrily explained that she knew Sam. She stuffed him into her car and they sped away.

"A whole year," said Sam as Annie drove in heated silence. "That's-no. The Doctor said that we-"

"I get sucked into a garbage can!" shouted Annie. "And then I wake up in some underground boiler room. Then you show up out of nowhere with this 'Doctor' person and tell me to go home. The next thing I know, people are dying in the streets. Attacked by shop store dummies coming to life! And the only word I hear from you is, 'I'll call you tomorrow and explain everything'. Except you never did! I assumed you'd been killed by one of those…things! But no! Apparently, you and your new boyfriend have been gallivanting off to…God knows where! Boy, am I a fool!"

"He's not my boyfriend!" exclaimed Sam. "Why does everyone think that?"

"I cannot believe you!" screeched Annie. "I had dozens of officers looking for you, for nearly three months! I thought you were dead, and where were you?"

"Traveling," answered Sam meekly.

"What the hell does that mean, 'traveling'0? That's not an answer!"

"I'm sorry, Ann, but that's what I was doing."

"And you left all your things behind?! Clothes, toothbrush, passport?! In fact, I'm pretty sure those are the same clothes you were wearing that day! By the way, I kept all your stuff when they moved that Harris bloke into your apartment…because you hadn't paid your rent in three months!"

"Annie, just take me back to the Estates, please. The Doctor's there, and we can explain everything, I promise!"

"Why should I believe you?!" questioned Annie.

"Because…I don't know." Sam crossed his arms and looked out the window.

After a moment, Annie turned the car around and headed for the Estates.

"First, we end up in 1869, instead of 1860. But I didn't care about that. What I do care about is missing an entire year of my life!" Sam exclaimed, when he found the Doctor standing right where he'd left him, next to the TARDIS.

"What?" asked the Doctor confusedly.

"It hasn't been twelve hours, it's been twelve months," said Sam. "I thought you knew how to fly that thing!"

The Doctor looked peeved. "I do!...Sometimes, I just…get off by a bit."

"Twelve months?!" said Sam incredulously. "My girlfriend is ready to flay us both within an inch of our lives."

"Speak of the devil," commented the Doctor as Annie, no, Detective Inspector Cartwright marched up to the two.

"Ah. Anna. Good to see you again," said the Doctor, smiling.

"My name is Annie," she said, gritting her teeth.

"No, it's Anna."

"I think I know my own name!"

"You think you know your own name?" The Doctor laughed.

"Doctor!" scolded Sam.

Annie looked impatient. "Have you two got your lie in order?"

"Annie, I haven't told you a single lie yet," protested Sam.

"I'm not speaking to you at the moment," she said coldly. She glared at the Doctor. "You were the last person seen with Sam Tyler. Therefore, I am holding you personally responsible for his whereabouts between March 3rd, 2005, and March 4th, 2006." She crossed her arms. "You better have a pretty damn good alibi."

"Well, you see," said the Doctor. "I employed Sam here as my companion."

"'Companion'? Was this a sexual relationship?"

"No!" shouted Sam and the Doctor simultaneously.

"Fine. Where did you and your 'companion' go for a year?" questioned Annie.

"I told you, Ann. We were…traveling," said Sam meekly.

"Traveling," repeated Annie disgustedly at the Doctor, even though it was Sam that had spoken. "You know what? I'm putting you under arrest for kidnapping, at least until I get some answers!" In one smooth movement, Annie whipped out her hand cuffs, turned the Doctor around and shoved him up against the TARDIS. "Come on," she said, chaining the Doctor's hands. "I'm putting you in here until I can get some back up!"

She opened the doors and pushed the Doctor roughly inside. Then, she saw in the inside. She stood there, mouth agape. "Wha…"

"Come on, Annie," said Sam, gently coaxing her inside. "We have a lot to talk about."

"I just…I don't believe it," said Annie later, in complete shock. She was sitting on the jump seat in the console room, while the Doctor and Sam told her about their past few days together. "And this…this box…it travels in time?"

"And space," said the Doctor. "Would you mind taking these off now?"

"Oh, sorry," said Annie numbly, unlocking the handcuffs.

"Thanks," he said, rubbing his wrists.

"And it's only been a few days?" she asked in amazement.

"Yes," said Sam. "Freaky, eh?"

"This is impossible," she said, shaking her head. She looked up at Sam, wide-eyed. "Did you know they pronounced you dead? You're dead, according to the records. They have a certificate and everything."

"Annie, look," said Sam, taking her hands. "I'm really, really sorry. I was supposed to come back after twelve hours. But the Doctor mucked up."

"Hey!" said the Doctor indignantly.

"But what-" Annie was cut off as there was a tremendous noise outside.

"What the hell was that?" said Sam.

"Dunno," said the Doctor. "Let's go find out."

Aliens. In London.

A spaceship had crash landed in the Thames River. But even that was simply an Earth pig stolen from some farm and stuffed into a space craft. The real threat lie in Downing Street, where members of the Slitheen family, from the planet Raxacoricofallapatorius (try saying that five times fast) had infiltrated the British government. The Doctor and Sam, along with the help of Annie and Harriet Jones, an MP for Flydale North, managed to stop the aliens from destroying the planet.

Sam watched on TV as Harriet Jones, who would later be elected Prime Minister, say to the press, "Mankind stands tall, proud and undefeated. God bless the human race."

"It's just…I can't believe it, Sammy." Annie was watching beside him. They were sitting on the couch in Annie's house. "We saved the world. You and me."

"And the Doctor," added Sam.

"Yes," added Annie begrudgingly. "And the Doctor."

"Not so bad now, is he?" asked Sam.

She sighed. "No, but…you could've called me."

"I know. I'm sorry," he said, kissing her forehead.

"Just three days?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Well…I suppose you're forgiven," she said, smiling sadly at him. "Though I still don't trust that Doctor."

"Someone say my name?" said the Doctor, coming in.

"Yes," said Annie, standing up. "And I want to talk to you. Tell me something, Doctor: is Sam safe with you?"

"Annie-"

"No, I mean it," she said. "Are you safe, Doctor? Because it seems all fun and smart, but…Sam could've died out there."

The Doctor looked at her gravely. "Sam was right about you. You're a smart girl. And you're right, Sam is in danger, traveling with me. But I swear…I would die before I'd let someone hurt him."

Annie sighed and nodded, knowing the Doctor was telling the truth. She still worried…but she knew there wasn't really anything she could do.

"Course," said the Doctor. "You could always come with us. It might help. Having a mother hen on board." Sam noted that the Doctor had changed his tone. There still seemed to be some tension between the two, but maybe they could friends after all.

Annie laughed and shook her head. "I'm sorry, but…no. I can't. It's too much."

"Right," said the Doctor, nodding. "I understand."

"Ann," said Sam, taking her hand. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she said, with a pained smile. "Wouldn't want to intrude on your sausage fest anyway." She laughed.

"Okay," said Sam. "If you're absolutely sure."

She nodded her head.

"Listen, Doctor," Sam said. "I'm going to go pack a bag, alright? Annie had a point, I'm probably going to need my toothbrush where we're going."

They all laughed. "Sure," said the Doctor.

Sam went to the room where Annie was keeping all his stuff. He packed some things into a backpack: clothes, toiletries, pictures, an old pocket watch, and a couple of good books. "Ready," he said to himself.

Annie and the Doctor were watching a kid scrub the words "Bad Wolf" off the side of the blue box. "Graffiti that again and you'll catch it," threatened the Doctor as the kid ran off. "Now, ready?" he addressed Sam.

"Absolutely." Sam kissed Annie goodbye, and he and the Doctor were off on another adventure.

Chapter 11: The Companion, Volume 11

Notes:

Chapter based on "Dalek" by Robert Shearman, original air date: April 30, 2005.

Chapter Text

The encounter with the Dalek showed Sam a completely different Doctor.

Sam had been kind of stunned when the Doctor simply stood there and let Cassandra die. But this time…the Doctor only had pure white hot burning hatred for the metal creature.

The whole story came out. The Dalek, like the Doctor, was the last survivor of its race. The only Dalek left after the Great Time War. And the Doctor wasn't just the sole remnant of the occurrence; he was the source. The Doctor had destroyed everyone, everything in that war. He was a murderer. No wonder Sam felt this inane sense of shame emanating from the Doctor. He wasn't just alone. He was guilty.

But the Doctor was determined not to let his people have died in vain. He had to destroy this last Dalek, the last reminder of his treachery.

"Get out of the way," said the Doctor, aiming an enormous bazooka at Sam and the Dalek. "Sam, get out of the way, now!"

"No," said Sam. "Because I won't let you do this!"

"The thing killed hundreds of people," argued the Doctor.

Sam studied him coolly. "It's not the one pointing the gun at me."

The Doctor swallowed. "I've got to do this. I've got to end it. The Daleks destroyed my home, my people. I've got nothing left!"

"But look at it," protested Sam, looking back at the Dalek. He had never seen such an ugly creature, save for the Slitheen, maybe, but there was something sad and delicate about the way it blinked its singular eye in the bright light and gently wagged its little tentacle in the warmth. "The sunlight. That's all it wants. It could have killed me, but it didn't. It could've killed Van Statten, but it didn't. Don't you see, Doctor? It's changed! Isn't…shouldn't everything deserve forgiveness?"

It was at that moment that Sam realized how much that hit home.

The Doctor seemed to think so, too, reflecting on his own crime. "Sam, don't you see? If I destroy it-"

"If you destroy it, than how are you any better?!" demanded Sam. "You've done so much unbelievable good-enough to outweigh the bad ten times over… You're better than this. What the hell are you changing into?"

The Doctor could only stare, shock and shame painted on his face.

In the end, the Dalek, unable to bare what Sam had turned it into, killed itself.

The Doctor, still tender after the experience, took Sam and the other boy, Adam, in his blue box and flew away.

"Doctor?" said Sam, after Adam had run off to explore the rest of the TARDIS ("It's bigger on the inside!"). "Listen. I'm feeling a bit…tired. Is there a place out there where it's…peaceful?"

The Doctor looked up from his console. He offered a small smile. "I think I know of one, yeah."

The TARDIS landed in a grassy meadow, punctuated with the occasional small tree, and overhead, there was a pale blue sky.

Sam stepped outside and immediately felt a wave of calm wash over him. He inhaled, and the air smelled sweet, faintly floral. He closed his eyes and listened to the almost silence; the only noise about was the slight whisper of the breeze.

He shrugged off his jacket and lay down in the tall soft grass, on his back, letting the warm sunlight caress his face. "What is this place?" he murmured, utterly relaxed.

"It's called The Eye of Orion," said an equally placated voice, and Sam heard the grass rustle beside him as the Doctor lay down as well. "It's the most tranquil place in the universe. It is literally impossible to be unhappy or stressed here, because of the levels of positive ions."

Sam opened his eyes and noted that the Doctor too had shed his leather jacket, and noticed how the dark blue jumper he'd been wearing underneath offset his grey-blue eyes, making them seem lighter, younger, less burdened. Or maybe it was just the atmosphere here.

"So technically," said Sam, rolling over and leaning on his elbow. "We're high right now?"

The Doctor grinned at him. "Yeah," he chuckled, putting his hands behind his head and lacing his fingers together.

Sam closed his eyes and deeply breathed in the sweet air. "Blimey…I definitely could become a junkie to this place." The positive ions were definitely working their magic on him; the aching headache the encounter with the Dalek had given was ebbing away, until the sequence of four knocks was merely a faint tapping in the back of his mind. It was the most peace Sam had felt in a while.

The two remained like that for a while, simply lying there in quiet, absorbing the sunlight and the breeze and the serenity. Sam reckoned he dozed off at some point…

"Koschei?" Theta came in to find his friend lying in a fetal position on his bed, clutching at his head, eyes clinched shut.

"So loud," whispered Koschei, tears streaming down his cheeks. "They're so loud."

"Here," said Theta, climbing onto Koschei's bed. He took the trembling boy into his arms and held him, stroking his hair, kissing his forehead, telling him telepathically that he was here, that everything would be alright. Koschei sobbed and hiccupped and trembled and finally fell into a peaceful sleep in his arms, snuggled into Theta's chest. Theta held Koschei tightly all night, as to scare away any bad dreams.

I love you, Theta, Koschei dreamed.

And I love you, Theta replied, dropping another kiss on the top of Koschei's head. My Koschei, I love you.

Theta eventually feel asleep as well, and foreheads pressed together, the two boys shared their dreams…

Sam was awoken by the Doctor. "Come on," he said, gently shaking Sam by the shoulder. "Your boyfriend says he's bored. He wants to go somewhere exciting."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Okay, look, he's not my boyfriend. I don't have a boyfriend, alright? For the last time, I am not interested in men!"

"Whatever," said the Doctor. "Come on then."

Sam stood up, brushed himself off, and followed the Doctor back to the TARDIS.

Chapter 12: The Companion, Volume 12

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Long Game" by Russell T. Davies*, and "The Empty Child" and "The Doctor Dances" by Steven Moffat, original air dates: May 7, 21, and 28, 2005.
*"Father's Day" was skipped.

Chapter Text

Fantastic. As soon as I rid myself of one, he wanders off and picks up another stray! The Doctor grumbled inwardly, trying not to watch as Sam and Jack chatted. The captain, the Doctor could see, was shamelessly flirting with Sam, who was quite uncomfortable.

Funny, the Doctor couldn't help joke to himself. For a guy who claims so vehemently to be hetero, he sure does attract a lot of blokes. And I thought I was a…how did Sam put it? A "space pimp"?

But the Doctor had to back up a bit. He had left Adam back in his own flat back home after his little trick with the cell phone and the white noise on Satellite Five.

"I only take the best," he'd said fiercely. "I've got Sam."

Then he stormed back inside his TARDIS and flew away, only to stumble across a bright mauve capsule. Mauve, he explained to Sam, was the universal color for emergency. So, he locked onto the capsule's flight pattern, and wound up somewhere/when in London.

"What's the plan to locate this thing, then?" asked Sam, as they strolled through a back alley the TARDIS had turned up in. It was nighttime, and the city was unusually serene. "Gonna…scan for alien tech or something?"

"No, I'm gonna ask someone," he said, flashing Sam his psychic paper.

Sam looked at it. "Might want to get that fixed, mate. It's still not working."

The Doctor gaped at him quizzically. "Really? It's blank?" He looked at it himself, but identification papers for a "Dr. John Smith, Ministry of Asteroids" were present. Curiouser and curiouser.

In all honesty, matters had grown even stranger than usual (if possible) ever since the Doctor plucked up his latest companion. Not only did Sam seem telepathically endowed, as the encounter with the Nestene had proved, but the fact that the psychic paper didn't work on him showed that Sam might be a genius as well. Not surprising. The Doctor very rarely employed dim individuals. However, Sam, smart as he was, didn't necessarily show that type of prowess up front. It was almost as if Sam's mind was a precious, powerful jewel, concealed under layers of human-y rock and stone.

Sometimes, the Doctor caught Sam nursing his temples, or muttering to himself. The Doctor would inquire if he was alright, to which Sam always replied, "Yeah. Swell." Then the Doctor would just let the matter drop.

Outside of Sam, other things were odd too. For instance, the TARDIS had been acting very temperamental lately, especially when Sam touched the console. He failed to understand why. The old girl had never particularly shown a preference to or bias toward any of his traveling companions before. The Doctor prided himself on possessing a well-behaved, hospitable TARDIS. Perhaps she was still getting use to having others on board again; it had been several centuries, after all.

Not to mention…Bad Wolf.

The two, simple, non-threatening words had been stalking the Doctor ever since Platform One. He'd overheard the Moxx of Balhoon utter this simple phrase in passing, but had brushed it off. It simply had been irrelevant prattle at the time. But then in 1869's Cardiff, the Doctor had walked in on Sam and the servant girl, Gwyneth, in the kitchen, and there again were those two words. He didn't know what they'd been discussing beforehand, but the both of them had seemed very frightened.

Returning Sam home to London, he'd discovered several tags in the very alley he'd landed in sporting the phrase. Some little imp had even had the gall to brand, well, spray paint the damn words onto the exterior of his TARDIS. If that wasn't the universe trying to get the Doctor's attention, he didn't know what was.

And there were more. Henry Van Statten's helicopter, christened "Bad Wolf One". And on Satellite 5, the Bad Wolf TV channel featuring some story on the Face of Boe being pregnant (rubbish, most probably). Wherever the Doctor went, two words followed. Bad Wolf.

And the Doctor had some sinister feeling that they had to do with Sam.

The Doctor had meant it when he'd said he was glad he'd met the lad; he was. The guilt of the Time War had lay heavily on his mind and hearts before he'd run across this little human. He still felt the ache sometimes, when he was by himself in the console room while Sam was sleeping. But the presence of this brilliant, curious, daring, funny bloke had somehow dulled the pain, the hollow loneliness. He could forget for a while. He could even start to forgive himself, for a moment.

But then he'd remember.

Of course, he'd never say any of this to Sam. The man (not to mention everyone else in the universe) was so convinced that the Doctor was out to shag him. Honestly, it wasn't as if the Doctor had never had platonic friends. Ian and Barbara, Zoe, Liz, little Jo Grant, the Brigadier, Sarah Jane (even though she'd fancied him), Adric and Tegan and Nyssa, Peri (although, she'd seemed sort of interested in his fifth incarnation-who wasn't?-but then he'd changed, and she was immediately turned off for some reason…), Ace…just to name a few.

This Captain Jack Harkness, on the other hand, seemed to be quite the opposite.

Sam had wandered off while the Doctor was inspecting the area (They'd somehow managed to land in 1941, smack dab in the middle of the London Blitz. Good grief!), and then got himself stranded by dangling from the rope of a barrage balloon soaring two hundred feet over London during a bloody German air raid! Good thing Prince Charming had been there to rescue Sam as if he were some princess trapped in a tall tower, all slick haired and coy winks and flashing those pearly whites around like the crown jewels. The Captain was almost too beautiful to be real.

And he was. As it turned out, the swashbuckling Captain Jack was the cause of their advent in this war-torn London, not to mention the reason behind the "plague", the transformation of the humans into these gas mask creatures. And all just to make a quick buck. A lousy con man. That's all he was.

Plus, he had the gall to make fun of the Doctor's sonic screwdriver! The Doctor's pride was still a bit wounded over that one.

And then, just when it seemed that the three men were trapped, stuck inside the Albion Hospital, Jack, with his sneaky little vortex manipulator, teleported out of there when Sam and the Doctor weren't looking.

"Oh great!" said Sam, looking disgusted. The Doctor thanked his lucky stars he hadn't picked up some mushy, doe-eyed bird who would fawn all over the charming rogue like some teenager. "He's gone!" continued Sam, pacing. "Why do all the smart guys do that?!"

The Doctor frowned. "I'm making an effort not to be insulted." Okay. So apparently, Harkness had had some kind of effect on Sam.

"Oi, don't even, you've done it too!"

"Have not!" argued the Doctor childishly.

"Oh yeah?" Sam crossed his arms. "Three words, mate: Hunt's Department Store!"

"Oh…well okay, there was that," admitted the Doctor sheepishly.

Sam sighed and turned away. "We need him."

The Doctor let slip a derisive scoff. "Like hell we do. Have you forgotten that he's the one who got us into this mess?"

"Yeah, but he's got a weapon," Sam pointed out.

"I don't need weapons."

"Sometimes weapons are a necessary evil," said Sam. Then his expression turned sour, like he remembering something bad. He clenched his eyes shut and rubbed the sides of his head.

"You alright?" asked the Doctor.

"Yeah," grumbled Sam, slightly shaking his head. "Swell."

There it was again.

Suddenly, an old dusty radio sitting on a bookshelf in the corner crackled to life. For a moment, the Doctor feared it was the boy again. The empty child. But then, an irritatingly smooth voice came on over the speaker. "Sam? Doctor? Can you hear me? I'm back on my ship."

The Doctor jumped up and went over to inspect the radio as Jack continued. "Used the emergency teleport. Sorry I couldn't take you. It's security-keyed to my molecular structure."

Convenient, mused the Doctor.

"I'm working on it," said Jack. "Hang in there."

"How are you speaking to us?" asked the Doctor, fiddling with the broken wires, which weren't attached to anything.

"Om-Com," explained Jack simply. "I can call anything with a speaker grill."

"Now there's a coincidence," said the Doctor.

"What is?"

"The child can Om-Com too," replied the Doctor.

"He can?" asked Sam.

"Anything with a speaker grill," said the Doctor, nodding. "Including the TARDIS phone."

"Wait, you mean the child can phone us?"

"And I can hear you," called a little voice on the radio that was definitely not Jack's. "Coming to find you. Coming to find you."

"Doctor, can you hear that?" crackled Jack's voice.

"Loud and clear," said the Doctor, hiding his nervousness. In all his nine hundred years, he'd never encountered anything like these zombie things. And usually, he was fascinated by new things. But not in this case.

"I'll try to block out the signal," said Jack, then he added a little sheepishly, "It's the least I could do."

Damn right, thought the Doctor.

"Coming to find you, mummy…"

"Remember this one, Sam?" A song began to play on the radio from Jack's ship: "Moonlight Serenade", by Glenn Miller. Not exactly the kind of tunes a 51st century kind of guy listened to a regular basis, the Doctor mused. Or was it actually possible that this Captain Jack actually had some culture?

The Doctor looked at Sam questioningly, who was looking down at his feet. "We were…just listening to it on his ship," he muttered. The Doctor heard the Captain chuckle softly over the radio and decided not to ask any further. He really didn't want to know.

The Doctor set himself to scanning the dimensions of the room with his (not stupid) sonic screwdriver, as Sam lounged in a wheelchair, absentmindedly wheeling himself back and forth as the song played on. He'd asked if he could help, to which the Doctor had gruffly replied no. Then he'd suggested, in a slightly less tight voice, that Sam just keep out of the way.

Why did the Captain have this effect on the Doctor? Why did the thought of him and Sam, together on the con man's ship, "listening" to Glenn Miller and doing God knows what else, gnaw at his insides like he'd swallowed a live rat?

Because he's a piece of scum. He's a piece of scum and Sam's impressed by him. No. Sam has nothing to do with it. You just don't like Jack because he's scum, that's all. You're not… that . That would be silly. Because that would imply that you had… feelings for Sam. Which you don't. You most certainly do not have feelings for Sam. He made it clear from day one: platonic. And you firmly agreed. Right? Right.

"What are you doing?" Sam's voice surprised the Doctor.

"Er…trying to set up a resonation pattern in the concrete, loosen the bars," answered the Doctor, recovering quickly.

"You don't think he's coming back, do you?" asked Sam.

The Doctor held back a snort. "Wouldn't bet my life."

"Look…the guy just…made a mistake. That's all. It's not like you've never made a mistake."

"Why do you trust him?" asked the Doctor suddenly. He hadn't meant to ask the question, but for some reason, he had to know.

"Saved my life," answered Sam. "Isn't that good enough?"

The Doctor let out an indifferent psh of air and continued scanning the window.

Sam sighed heavily and said, "Alright, look…I trust him because…he's like you."

A small, nasty little part of the Doctor's brain said, And the insults keep rolling in. But the other 93 percent made the Doctor pause and turn to look at Sam, a bemused expression on his face.

Sam cleared his throat. "Except…you know…with drinking and dancing."

"Oh, so that's what you two were doing?" said the Doctor, raising his fantastic eyebrows that were usually reserved for scowling. An invisible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Yeah, yeah, it's not like that," grumbled Sam, waving his hand dismissively and trying hard not to blush. "The guy had a couple beers on board, and then he turned on the radio and asked me to dance. I said I didn't know how." Sam gave the wall to his right a put-upon grimace. "So…he was just teaching me! You know I'm-"

"Straight, I've heard," said the Doctor, repressing an eye roll. Honestly, he really didn't care. Nine hundred years of time and space, and you've pretty much seen everything. Done everything, too. He was from a planet where gender was subjective, for Christ's sake. These humans and their labels.

Hm. Maybe he and this Jack Harkness were alike…a little.

"So…what did he teach you?" said the Doctor, turning back to his scanning.

"Waltz, mostly," said Sam. "It was simple enough."

"Yeah, I know the waltz," said the Doctor. He heard a cough that sounded suspiciously like it was covering a laugh. "Something funny?"

"You dance?" asked Sam incredulously. "Lemme guess…the Time Warp, right?"

I practically invented the Time Warp. "Yes, I can dance," he said irritably.

"Doesn't the universe implode or something if the Doctor dances?" said Sam, almost genuinely laughing at him now.

Hmph. Lot you know. I'll have you know, I taught some of my "partners" their best tricks. "Well, I've got the moves, but I wouldn't want to boast," said the Doctor, biting back a haughty smirk.

The Doctor heard the wheelchair creak as Sam got up from it. He listened to Sam's footsteps as he walked over to the radio and turned up the dial, and the slow music became louder. "Alright," said Sam, and the Doctor was surprised at how close Sam's voice seemed, as if the man was standing right behind him. "Impress me."

"Huh?" The Doctor turned around, slightly taken aback.

Sam shrugged, trying to look impassive. He casually held out a hand. "You said you got the moves. So show me your moves." He grinned a little, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"Sam, I'm…I'm trying to resonate concrete," said the Doctor, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable.

"Jack'll get us, come on," prodded Sam. "The world doesn't end 'cause the Doctor dances.

Okay. Definitely uncomfortable now. The Doctor, after putting his sonic screwdriver back inside his jacket, covertly wiped his slightly sweaty palms on his jeans and swallowed. Were his heart rates accelerated?

Calm down. It's nothing. Just a lark. Nothing to sweat.

He put on a fake sense of bravado as he swaggered down off the ledge. He took Sam's outstretched hand, then, surprising the both of them, pulled Sam in close. He heard Sam gulp slightly.

The Doctor smiled one of those cheekily, sarcastic smiles that had so become a part of this incarnation's persona, and they started to sway to the music.

"Hm," said Sam, slightly bobbing his head side to side bemusedly. "Not bad…though I will admit, Captain Jack could probably teach you a thing or two."

"What, like this?" On an impulse, the Doctor suddenly dipped the man, tango style, and held him there. "And he's 'Captain Jack' now, is he?"

"Well…" Sam's breath was slightly hitched as the Doctor hung over him, still clutching him firmly. "His name's Jack. He's a captain. It's very…Pirates Of The Caribbean, isn't it?"

"Yes, but he's not really a captain, is he, Sam?" said the Doctor, pulling Sam upright again and heard him give a faint sigh of relief.

"Maybe you're just jealous," muttered Sam.

"Of what? His 'captaincy'? I don't mean to sound arrogant-"

"You never do."

"-but I personally think 'Doctor' sounds more impressive than 'Captain'. More original. More mysterious."

"It's definitely unusual, I'll give you that," smirked Sam. That earned him an impromptu spin around. Sam, unprepared for it, stumbled into the Doctor, hands splayed on the man's chest.

Sam slowly looked up at the Doctor, cheeks red as roses. Their faces were extremely close.

"Er…sorry," breathed Sam, pulling back quickly.

"Quite alright," said the Doctor, releasing Sam's hands completely. This dance was over.

"You know," said a voice that made them both jump. The Doctor looked up to realize that they were no longer standing in the hospital. "Most people notice when they've been teleported," commented Jack, sticking his handsome head out from behind the pilot's chair in the front of the ship. He smirked at them. "You guys are so sweet."

"It's…totally not like that," Sam automatically began to sputter, but Jack disinterestedly cut him off. "Sorry about the delay. I had to take the Nav-Com offline to override the teleport security."

"You spent ten minutes overriding your own protocols?" asked the Doctor. "Maybe you should remember whose ship it is."

"Oh, I do," chuckled the Captain. "She was gorgeous. Like I told her, be back in five minutes." He ducked down to inspect some wiring in the console.

The Doctor took that moment to look around the craft. The structure, the lights, the wiring… "This is a Chula ship," he said.

"Yeah, just like that medical transporter," said Jack. He looked up at them. "Only this one is dangerous."

The Doctor snapped his fingers suddenly. A golden swarm of tiny light particles gathered around his hand. "Oh yeah," said Sam. "I'd gotten rope burn from the barrage, and Jack used those things to fix me up."

"Nanogenes," said the Doctor, watching as the light specks danced around his hand. "Sub-atomic robots. There's millions of them in here, see? Burned my hand on the console when we landed. All better now. They activate when the bulk head's sealed. Check you out for damage, fix any physical flaws." The nanogenes disappeared as quickly as they'd come, and the Doctor, hand newly healed, looked at Jack. "Take us to the crash site. I need to see your space junk."

They found the ambulance…and Nancy. Jack got the capsule open. "It's empty. Look at it."

"Chula ambulance? What did you expect to find? Bandages, cough drops?"

"Nanogenes!" exclaimed Sam.

"It wasn't empty, Captain," said the Doctor, spitting the name. "There were enough nanogenes in there to rebuild a species."

Horror bloomed on the Captain's handsome face as realization dawned on him.

"Getting it now, are we?" said the Doctor coldly. "When the ship crashes, the nanogenes escape. Billions upon billions of them, ready to fix all the cuts and bruises in the whole world. But what they find first is a dead child, probably killed earlier that night, and wearing a gasmask. So they bring him back to life. Because what's life? Life's easy. A quirk of matter. Nature's way of keeping meat fresh. Nothing to a nanogene. One problem though. These nanogenes, they're not like the ones on your ship. This lot have never seen a human being before. Don't know what a human being's supposed to look like. All they've got to go on is one little body, and there's not a lot left. But they carry right on. They do what they're programmed to do. They patch it up. Can't tell what's gasmask and what's skull, but they do their best. Then off they fly, off they go, work to be done. Because, you see, now they think they know what people should look like, and it's time to fix all the rest. And they won't ever stop. They won't ever, ever stop. The entire human race is going to be torn down and rebuilt in the form of one terrified child looking for its mother, and nothing in the world can stop it!"

"I didn't know!" exclaimed the Captain helplessly.

Mummy…mummy…mummy…

They looked out into the dark courtyard to find that the empty people had found them. A whole legion of them, emerging from the shadows, all moaning the same innocent plea: Mummy.

The girl saved them.

"Yes," she whispered to the little boy. "I am your mummy. I will always be your mummy." She took the boy in her arms and hugged him tightly.

Suddenly, a swirling of golden light surrounded mother and child. "Doctor, what's going on?" said Sam.

"Life," said the Doctor, feeling like he could cry. "Everybody lives, Sam. Just this once…everybody lives!"

The Doctor was happy. No, ecstatic. No, fantastic! "I need more days like this," said the Doctor, merrily dancing around the console of the TARDIS. "Go ahead, Sam. Ask me anything. I'm on fire!"

"Doctor…what about Jack?"

So, the Doctor saved the Captain. And now, here they were. Three men and a TARDIS.

"Much bigger on the inside," commented Jack.

"You'd better be," said the Doctor.

Jack smirked. "So Doctor…Sam tells me you're quite the dancer."

The Doctor grinned mischievously and snapped his fingers. Suddenly, some lively jazz music came on. "Care to give it a go?" asked the Doctor, offering his hand.

"Well-" But Jack was suddenly cut off as Sam took the Doctor's hand instead. "Actually, I think I'll be cutting in, if you don't mind."

"Jack," said the Doctor, as he and Sam began swaying to the music. "What did you do to my companion?"

Jack chuckled to himself as he watched the two men dance. That's the thing, Doctor. I don't think I had to do anything at all.

Chapter 13: The Companion, Volume 13

Notes:

Chapter based on "Boom Town" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 4, 2005 (1/2).

Chapter Text

"And this is your room," said Sam, leading the taller man down the corridor. He pointed to the door opposite Jack's quarters. "This one's mine. Just holler if you need anything, alright?"

Jack put on one of his megawatt smiles and leaned on his elbow against the wall. "You mean you're not going to invite me in?"

Sam blanched. "Oh, er…"

Jack laughed. "Down, boy. I'm messing with you. Besides, I'd never steal another man's boy toy."

Sam gave a disgusted sigh. "Look, I'm telling you like I've told what seems like everyone in the universe and their mother-the Doctor and I are not like that!"

"Really?" said Jack, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't look like that from where I was standing."

"Try standing somewhere else next time," grouched Sam.

"You're the one that danced with him," Jack pointed out slyly.

"Yeah, well, I danced with you too. And then you and the Doctor danced. It was nothing…and by the way, if word ever gets out that I danced with two blokes, I swear to God-"

"Alright, alright," laughed Jack and put his hands up in defense. "Your secret's safe with me, Mister Straight Arrow."

"That's my name. Don't wear it out."

"Look, there's no shame in admitting that you're attracted to another man. As you can see, I have no qualms about it."

"Yeah, I noticed," said Sam. "Except that's the difference between you and me: I'm not into other men."

"No, just whatever the Doctor is. He is an alien, after all," said Jack, waggling his eyebrows. "Who knows what he's hiding in his trousers?"

"That's disgusting. And I am not interested in the Doctor!" Sam protested.

Jack shrugged. "I just call it like I see it."

"Well, I'd get myself to an eye doctor if I were you," Sam retorted.

"Man, you should have seen your face when I teleported you two onto my ship," cackled Jack. "Your face. It was beet red."

"Of course it was! I had tripped. That's embarrassing."

"Hmm, you tripped alright. Right into the Doctor's arms. He has nice arms, doesn't he? Big, strong, sturdy arms. Very manly. 'Oh, hold me, Doctor!'" Jack mocked him, clutching his hands to his heart dramatically.

"You're full of it," sputtered Sam.

"And the way he was looking at you," said Jack, grinning evilly at him. He was really on a roll now.

"He wasn't looking at me in anyway, except that he was as embarrassed as I was!" said Sam, his cheeks burning.

"Oh, you call that 'embarrassed? Funny. I would've called it lusty." Jack laughed shamelessly at the way Sam was squirming. "He wanted you, right then and there. I swear, if I hadn't spoken up when I had, you two would've thrown down. Which would have been very hot, I might add."

"Look, mate," said Sam, fuming. "Just because you two seem to think that sexual preference is subjective, I don't. I'm not from your time, and even if I was, well…I just don't see it that way! I'm not homophobic or anything, but that doesn't I mean fancy guys either. Understand?"

"Okay," said Jack, smirk well wiped from his attractive face. "I get it."

"Good. Now, good night," said Sam, turning sharply on his heel and walking into his bedroom, resisting the urge to slam the door behind him.

But even as Sam was pulling on his pajama bottoms, turning out the light, and climbing into bed, a thought was gnawing at the back of his mind: something was definitely changing.

Blimey. I've been running around with gay guys, or omnisexuals, or whatever they consider themselves, for too long. Tomorrow, the first thing I'm gonna do is ask the Doctor if we can go see Annie. I really, really need to be with a girl right now.

"Sure, no problem," said the Doctor promptly, setting the controls for England, 2006.

"Hopefully, we'll get it right this time," laughed Sam.

"Who's Annie?" asked Jack.

"My girlfriend," said Sam, giving Jack a pointed look.

Jack raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

Annie met them in Cardiff. "Sam!" she said, grinning as she raced into his hug.

"Hello, love," he said, kissing her on the lips, making sure that Jack could see.

"Hello, Doctor," she said as she shook his hand, keeping her voice politely distant.

"DI Cartwright. Good to see you again," he replied, nodding his head respectfully.

"A policewoman, huh?" said Jack, grinning suggestively as he approached the girl. "Good to have one on hand. Never know who's going to act naughty." He winked and kissed her hand. "Hi. I'm Captain Jack Harkness."

"Alright, alright, that's enough," said Sam as Jack went to kiss her hand again. "How long's it been this time?"

"Six months," she said. "Not nearly as off track as before, timewise. Although, you could've parked a little closer than Cardiff," she said, smiling.

"You look great," said Sam. "Mind you, it's only been a few weeks for me."

"Still getting used to that," said Annie, shaking her head. "The whole…time travel thing. It's just so-"

"Fantastic?" said the Doctor pluckily.

"Strange," replied Annie. "I miss you a lot when you're gone, Sammy."

Sam grinned and kissed her again.

"Aw, so sweet, these two," said Jack mockingly. He looked over at the Doctor. "How come I never get any of that?"

"Buy me a drink first."

"You're such hard work," whined Jack.

"But worth it." The Doctor smiled sweetly at him, then turned to Annie. "We've just stopped off here to refuel the TARDIS."

"See, Cardiff's got this rift in time and space running through it, and-"

"Okay, too much tech talk for me," said Annie, raising her hands to stop Sam. "Just…tell me you're staying for awhile."

Sam looked at the Doctor. "Well…," said the Doctor, rubbing the back of his neck. "It'll take about twenty four hours for the TARDIS to fill up, so…I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

Annie smiled at Sam, linking her arm with his. "Lovely! Let's do lunch then. All four of us."

The group clambered out of the TARDIS. "That lady's staring," said Annie.

"Probably wondering what four people could be doing inside a small wooden box," said Jack, smirking.

"What are you Captain of, anyway? The Innuendo Squad?" asked Annie.

Jack winked at her.

"Ah, Cardiff," said the Doctor, as the gang headed off. "21st century, and the wind's blowing in from the east. Safest place in the universe."

Chapter 14: The Companion, Volume 14

Notes:

Chapter based on "Boom Town" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 4, 2005 (2/2).

Chapter Text

Open mouth, insert foot. The Doctor had been wrong.

They had had to deal with Margaret Blaine, or rather, Blon Fel-Fotch Passameer Day-Slitheen, who had somehow survived the blast at 10 Downing Street and was now posing as Lord Mayor of Cardiff. They had captured her and shut down her nuclear power plant that was meant to meltdown and aided by the Cardiff rift, cause the entire Earth to implode. The "Blaidd Drwg" project, she called it.

The Doctor had seemed very surprised at this. "How did you think of the name?"

"What, 'Blaidd Drwg'? It's Welsh," she'd answered.

"I know, but how did you think of it?"

"I chose it at random, that's all. I don't know. It just sounded good," she shrugged. Then, noticing his pensive state, she added, "Does it matter?"

He turned around and looked at Sam. "Blaidd Drwg."

"What's it mean?" asked Sam, feeling his stomach squirm.

The Doctor swallowed. And he said it. The two words that had been stalking them to every corner of the universe.

"Bad Wolf."

"But I've heard that before," said Sam. At the mere mention of the two words, images and memories sprang into his mind from the past few months. His conversation to Gwyneth, the "BadWolfTV" channel on Satellite Five, even the graffiti tags in his own alley. "Bad Wolf. I'd heard that lots of times."

Sam stared as the Doctor continued, a cold clammy feeling crawling around in his insides. "Everywhere we go. Two words, following us…Bad Wolf."

"But…it's impossible. How can a couple of words be following us?"

The Doctor stared him down, a haunted look in his eyes. Then, his face suddenly morphed into that of a cheeky grin that so commonly crossed the Time Lord's face. "Nah. Just a coincidence."

"I've been thinking, you know," said Annie later. It was nighttime. The Doctor and Jack were holding Blon inside the TARDIS, and they were standing outside in the cool night air. Annie had come wearing Sam's favorite sweater. It was form fitting and a shade of teal that perfectly complemented her eyes. Normally, that sweater would have Sam staring shamelessly. But tonight, for some reason…

Sam shook his head. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Well, we could…go have a drink, maybe," said Annie, taking his hand. "Have dinner somewhere, just you and me."

"Yeah…yeah, that'd be nice," said Sam, nodding, as he stared at the TARDIS.

Annie followed his gaze. "And if the TARDIS can't leave till morning, we could…go to a hotel. I mean, if you want to."

"Er…what?" said Sam.

Annie sighed exasperatedly. "Nothing. Just nothing."

"No, really, Annie, I'm listening honestly-"

"No, you're not. You're too busy staring at that ship. You're thinking about the Doctor, aren't you?" she accused, crossly folding her arms over her chest.

"What, no! Why would I be thinking about the Doctor, when you're right here?" exclaimed Sam.

Annie rolled her eyes. "Oh, I don't know," she said sarcastically.

"Look, love, let's just forget about the Doctor and the TARDIS and Jack and the Slitheen and just go to a bar or something. Come on." He took her hand and gave her a coaxing smile, complete with puppy-dog eyes. "Please?"

Annie slowly smiled. "Oh, alright," she said, and the two of them headed off.

Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor was watching them walk away together on the monitor. "What's on?" said Jack suddenly, sneaking up behind him.

The Doctor quickly changed the monitor to a display of the TARDIS diagnostics. "Nothing," he lied.

"..and something had happened, something to do with the sun, I don't know, but the sea had just frozen." Sam hadn't been able to able to resist talking about his travels with the Doctor again. Annie walked along beside him, glaring at her shoes. But Sam didn't notice. "In a split second, in the middle of a storm, right, waves and foam, just frozen, all the way out to the horizon. Midnight, right? We walked underneath these waves a hundred feet tall, made of ice-"

"I'm going out with Jimmy Stone," she interrupted.

Sam stopped short. They were standing on a dock looking out over the bay. Annie, arms crossed to shut out the cool wind, stood at the banister facing the water, not looking Sam in the eye.

"Er…Jimmy Stone? You mean, my mate from school. Jimmy Stone? Jimmy Stone, who played lead guitar in our band? Jimmy Stone, the heroin junkie?"

"Yes, Jimmy Stone, the ex-heroin junkie," she snapped.

"Oh…" Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "So he's clean then?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well…good. Great. Brilliant…well…"

Annie swallowed and turned around to face him. "So, tell me more about this ice planet, then."

"Oh…er…that was it, really."

"So," said Blon, sipping her wine. "Who is that handsome man you have on your ship now? He wasn't with you before."

"Captain Jack Harkness," answered the Doctor. He had agreed to give the Slitheen a final meal before he returned to her home planet, Raxacoricofallapatorius, to be executed. She had made several clever attempts to assassinate him over the evening, but he, being cleverer, had thwarted them easily.

"Ah. Well, he is rather pretty," said Blon, pointedly raising her eyebrows.

The Doctor shrugged indifferently. "Yeah. Pretty bothersome."

"Oh, yes, of course. Your attentions are already preoccupied, aren't they?" She smirked.

"If you're referring to Sam, he's got a girlfriend. Or were you too busy trying to escape to notice?"

"The DI is a sweet young thing, isn't she? Yes, I noticed. But Sam didn't really seem to, did he?"

"Let's keep my private life out of this, shall we?"

"She reminds me of this girl, just today. A young thing, something of a danger. She was getting too close. I felt the blood lust rising, just as the family taught me; I was going to kill her without a thought. And then...I stopped. She's alive somewhere, right now. She's walking around this city because I can change. I did change. I know I can't prove it-"

"No, you can't," agreed the Doctor.

"Give me a chance, Doctor. That's all I'm asking. I can change."

The Doctor looked off into the distance. "I'd like to think so. But you see, I've heard that line too many times to count. People like you…you don't change. If you do, it's only for the worst. I don't believe you, Blon Fel-Fotch Passameer Day-Slitheen. I don't believe in much anymore."

"He was puking on your shoes when you met him!"

"That was a long time ago! He's changed! And so have you, Sammy!"

"Why do you keep saying that?!"

"You used to be different. You were quiet, predictable. I liked that! I could always depend on you! But then that Doctor came along-"

"Oh, leave him out of this! This has nothing to do with him!"

"Of course! Go ahead, defend him! I'll bet you don't even think about me when you're with him, do you. In fact, if we went to a hotel right now, you'd be thinking about him the whole time, wouldn't you?"

"That's disgusting! I'm telling you, it's not like that! Besides, you know you could've come with us!"

"Well, what was the point? I could see from the way you looked at him that I was losing you!"

"The Doctor is not my boyfriend!"

"I can't even go out with a stupid ex-junkie because you pick up the phone and I make a mad dash for the next train to bloody Cardiff! I mean, is that what I am, Sam, standby?" She looked glared him, blinking back tears. "Am I just supposed to stay here for the rest of my life, waiting for you?" She sniffled. "Because…I will."

Sam stood there, mouth agape.

"You can't even say anything?" she squeaked incredulously.

Sam swallowed and looked down at his shoes. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you sure are," she muttered, stomped back the way they had come.

"Annie!" Sam chased after her and hugged her sobbing form tightly. "Look, love, I'm sorry, truly I am. But this, this life…it's all I've ever dreamed of."

"I'm sure."

"No, Annie, I mean I've literally dreamt of this. Look, I'm not with the Doctor because we're shagging or anything. I'm with him because there are questions in my life that I can't answer and I feel like the Doctor could give me the answers."

"But what we had," she said, sniffling. "It was nice. We were happy. At least I thought we were."

"We are. I am," he said. "I just…I…"

"Look," she said, wiping her eyes. "I'm not asking you to leave him, because I know that's not fair. But I just need something. Some sort of promise that when you do come back, you're coming back for me."

Suddenly Sam heard a deep rumble. "Is that thunder?"

"I dunno," said Annie, miserably shrugging. "Does it matter?"

There it went again, louder and stronger. "That's not thunder," said Sam, taking off for the TARDIS.

"Oh, go on then, run!" she cried after him. "It's him again, isn't it?! It's the Doctor! It's always the Doctor! It's always going to be the Doctor. It's never me!"

The Slitheen stood there, Sam's neck grasped in her strong alien arm, captivated by the golden glow seeping out from the TARDIS's console. "What's that light?" Sam managed to choke.

"The heart of the TARDIS," said the Doctor proudly. "This ship's alive. And you've opened its soul," he added, looking at Blon, who continued to stare into the light.

"It's so…bright," she whispered in wonder.

"Look at it, Margaret," coaxed the Doctor.

"Beautiful…"

"Look inside, Blon Fel-Fotch," he said kindly. "Look at the light."

The Slitheen gazed into the heart of the TARDIS, enraptured. Her arm relaxed and dropped Sam. Her skin shone like white diamonds. She smiled heartbreakingly at the Doctor. "Thank you," she choked.

The TARDIS converted the Slitheen to an egg.

"She can start again," explained the Doctor. "Live her life from scratch. If we take her home, give her to a different family, tell them to bring her up properly, she might be all right."

"Or she might be worse," said Jack pessimistically.

"That's her choice," said the Doctor, smiling down at the little life in his hands.

"She's an egg," said Sam, shaking his head at the brilliance of it all.

"She's an egg," agreed the Doctor.

Then Sam remembered. "Annie."

He got up and ran out of the TARDIS, back to the place where he'd left her.

But she was nowhere to be found.

"We're all powered up. We can leave. Opening the rift filled us up with energy. We can go, if that's all right," said the Doctor as Sam stepped back inside the TARDIS.

"Er, yeah," he said distractedly. "Fine."

So, three men and a baby took off for Raxacoricofallapatorius, leaving Annie and Cardiff behind.

Chapter 15: The Companion, Volume 15

Notes:

Chapter based on "Bad Wolf" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 11, 2005 (1/2).

Chapter Text

Sam awoke with his head pounding. He was lying on the floor of a dimly lit room, and looked up to find a black man in an all black suit kneeling over him. "What happened?" he mumbled.

"It's all right," said the man, smiling, but the warmth did not meet his eyes. "It's the transmat. Does your head in. Get a bit of amnesia."

Sam managed to sit up a bit, and rubbed the back of his head confusedly.

"What's your name?" asked the man.

"Er…Sam. But…where's the Doctor?" Sam looked around, as if expecting to see him standing somewhere nearby. "We were…I was just with him…"

They had just left Raxacoricofallapatorius. The Doctor had delivered Blon the egg off at an orphanage (or whatever they had on that planet), and now they were back in the Time Vortex, where the TARDIS preferred to stay in between excursions.

Sam was sitting on his bed, reading a book, but not really. He was just staring at the pages dully, occasionally turning one. If you had asked him what he was reading, he wouldn't have been able to tell you.

Sam heard a hesitant knock on his bedroom door, and it creaked open as the Doctor curiously poked his head inside. "Er…Jack fancied a trip to ancient Kyoto," he said. "Do you want to come along?"

Sam shrugged. "To be honest, Doctor, I'm just…I'm feeling a bit drained."

The Doctor stepped inside his room, and partially shut the door behind him. "Listen, Sam. That girl cares a great deal about you. She'll forgive you eventually."

"I dunno, will she?" said Sam, shutting the book. "Cause I really think this is it for us. The things she said…it's funny. But before I met you, before I hitched a ride on your crazy ship-"

The TARDIS let out a reproachful groan.

"Sorry," said Sam to her. "Before I met you, she was all I had. I mean, I had a couple of mates, sure, but no one really close. No real family either. Just that apartment, the shop, and her. My life was…small. Uncomplicated. And now…I don't know why I'm telling you all this," he sighed.

"I don't mind," said the Doctor.

"Yeah, I know," said Sam. "Thank you. You're…fantastic." He offered a small smile. "But the thing is-"

The room began to glow. "Er…what is that?" said Sam, looking around wildly.

"Doctor!" they heard Jack calling from downstairs in the console room. "What's going on?"

"I don't know!" cried the Doctor, looking panicked.

"Doctor!" cried Sam, jumping up.

And that was the last memory Sam had before waking up here.

"Just remember," said the man. "Do what the android says. Don't provoke it. The android's word is law."

"Wha-what do you mean 'android'?" stammered Sam. "Like a robot?"

"Positions, everyone, thank you!" a voice suddenly rang out, accompanied by impatient clapping.

The man offered a hand. "Come on. Hurry up."

Sam, head buzzing with questions, took the man's hand, and struggled to get to his feet. "I…I was traveling," Sam babbled. "With the Doctor. And a man called Captain Jack. Have you seen them?"

"That's enough chat!" snapped the sharp female voice. "Positions! Final call! Good luck."

Sam looked up to see a panel of game show podiums, about seven or eight of them, all lined up in a semicircle, arching around a dark figure in the middle of the black room, which Sam now realized, observing the cameras and strobe lights, was a studio of sorts.

"But I'm not supposed to be here!" sputtered Sam.

"Well it says 'Sam' on the podium," said the black man, nodding to a stand in the center.

Sam, green eyes wide with bewilderment, looked where the man's eyes were directed, and sure enough, among the ranks, there was a podium marked 'Sam'.

Sam was perplexed. "Come on!" whispered the man, rushing off to take his own place, behind a podium next to Sam's that was nameplated 'Rodrick'. Sam, through his stupor, followed suit.

Why does this place look so familiar? He said, looking around the studio. I swear to God, this place looks exactly like…

Suddenly, spot lights lit up the mysterious figure in the center. "Welcome…to The Weakest Link!" said a tinny voice coming from the large robotic woman.

Oh. The Anne Droid.

"Transmitting in 12, 11, 10-" the stage manager was counting down.

"But I've got to find the Doctor!" Sam hissed to Rodrick.

"Just shut up and play the game!" said Rodrick, looking disgusted.

Sam swallowed and said, "All right then. Fine. What the hell? I'm gonna play to win!"

"Three…two…"

"Let's play…" said the Anne Droid. "The Weakest Link!"

The familiar theme music played over the loudspeaker, and the Anne Droid continued. "Agorax," she said to the first man in line. "What basic food stuff is an anagram for 'beard'?"

After an instant's hesitation, the man answered, "Bread!"

"Correct. Fitch, in the pan traffic calendar, which month comes after Hoop?"

"Is it…Clavadoe?" said the woman, unsure.

"No, Pandov. Sam, in maths, what is 258 minus 158?"

"Er…one hundred," answered Sam. That had been easy enough…thank God.

"Correct. Rodrick-"

"Bank," he said, looking smarmy.

"Which letter of the alphabet appears in the word 'dangle', but not in the word 'gland'?"

"…E," Rodrick replied.

"Correct. Colleen, in social security…"

And so the game dragged on.

"Fitch, you are the weakest link. Goodbye." A panel where the Anne Droid's mouth and chin would be slid open, and a tube came out, like a lens on a digital camera, and for a moment, Sam thought the Anne Droid was going to take her picture.

Fitch, tearing streaking down her cheeks, turned to her left and looked at Sam. "Help me!" she whimpered.

Sam was confused. She'd just be asked to leave. That was all-

Then a yellow beam shoot of the Anne Droid's mouth and struck the hysterical woman. Before Sam's very eyes, Fitch disappeared.

There was a horrified silence as Sam stared the space where Fitch had been standing two seconds ago.

"And…we've gone to the adverts!" called the manager. "Back in three minutes!"

"What's that?" gasped Sam to Rodrick. "What's happened to her?"

"She was the weakest link, she gets disintegrated," he said coldly, rubbing her name off of his wipeboard.

Sam stood there, mouth agape. "But I…I voted for her," he whispered, sickened with himself.

Rodrick shrugged.

"Oh my God…this is sick!" Sam looked around. "She's dead, and it's because of us, we sent a person to their death! Don't any of you care?! I'm not-"

Sam was about to declare himself out of the game, but Broff beat him to it. "I can't do this!" he exclaimed tearfully, breaking for the door.

The Anne Droid's cool metal gaze followed him. "You are the weakest link." She finished him off another laser. "Goodbye."

Sam stared in horror.

The Anne Droid turned back to face him, her cold emotionless robotic expression daring him to make a run for it.

"Don't try to escape," whispered Rodrick.

Sam shuddered. He now knew what this was. It was play…or die.

Chapter 16: The Companion, Volume 16

Notes:

Chapter based on "Bad Wolf" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 11, 2005 (2/2).

Chapter Text

Bad Wolf. Again.

When Rodrick casually mentioned that the Game Station was manned by the Bad Wolf Corporation, Sam realized: he wasn't here by mistake. "Someone's been planning this," he muttered.

The Doctor was realizing it too, when Linda-with-a-Y Moss showed him who was controlling the Game Station. "Your lords and masters," she said, gesturing to the huge sign that said "BAD WOLF CORPORATION."

"Hey, handsome," said Jack, who had tracked down the Doctor after escaping his own game. "Good to see ya. Any sign of Sam?"

"Can't you track him down?" asked the Doctor, anxiously.

"He must still be inside the games. All the rooms are shielded."

"If I can just get inside this computer," muttered the Doctor, fiddling around with various wires inside one of what used to be Satellite Five's computers. "He's got to be here somewhere."

First priority, Sam. Then, save the earth.

"Well, you'd better hurry up," said Jack. "These games don't have a happy ending."

"Do you think I don't know that?" snapped the Doctor.

Jack held up his hands in surrender, then handed over the micro computer on his wrist. "There you go, patch that in. It's programmed to find him."

"Thanks," said the Doctor, and set to work, ignoring Jack's flirting with Linda-with-a-Y. "It's not compatible!" he exclaimed, kicking the computer frustratedly. "This stupid system doesn't make sense. This place should be a basic broadcaster, but the systems are twice as complicated. It's more than just television. This station's transmitting something else."

"Like what?" asked Jack.

"I don't know. This whole Bad Wolf thing's tied up with me. Someone's manipulating my entire life. It's some sort of trap and Sam is stuck inside it."

But ten minutes later, Lynda, who was surprisingly good with the computers on Satellite Five, managed to work her way into the system. "Found him!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Floor 407!"

Lynda gasped in horror. "He's with the Anne Droid! You've got to get him out of there!"

"SAM!"

Sam looked up and saw the Doctor, looking furious, but also joyous to see him. And suddenly he knew…everything would be okay.

The Doctor stared at Sam in relief. He had been so scared that he had lost him, that he wouldn't make it in time.

"Sam, you leave this game with nothing…" The Anne Droid was mechanically droning on with its death threats, but neither the Doctor nor Sam cared.

"I order you to stop this game!" roared the Doctor at the executives.

"You are the weakest link…"

"Look out for the Anne Droid, it's armed!" cried Sam, running away from the podium and to the Doctor.

Sam was only four feet away from the Doctor, when suddenly a blinding white beam of light struck him in the back. The Doctor, unable to tear his eyes from the heinous sight, could only stare helplessly as Sam was blasted to a pile of ashes before him.

The Doctor fell to his knees, ears ringing, eyes stinging. He knew that off to the side, Jack was screaming at the staff in rage, and that Linda-with-a-Y was somewhere behind him, that the staff were running around like chickens with their heads cut off, and that there was smoke in the air, choking him, but he didn't really absorb it. All he could focus on was the amalgamation of white dust on the floor. The dust that used to be Sam.

He shakily reached out and touched the ash, leaving trails from his fingers in it, as if his touch could reform Sam. As if this was all some cruel joke, and that any moment now, Sam would pop up and say, "Oi, Doctor, don't look so sad, mate." What the Doctor would do right now, just hear Sam's voice right now, or see him standing there, hands awkwardly stuffed into the pockets of his black hoodie, or watch his cheeks turn that endearing shade of pink when someone implied that he and the Doctor were a couple, and hear him protest abashedly "I'm not gay!". Not that they ever were a couple. Not that they ever even would be now.

The Doctor didn't care when the security guard grabbed him up roughly by his leather jacket, or when Jack screamed at him. "Don't you touch him, leave him alone!", or when the guard put a gun to his head and threatened Jack that he would shoot the Doctor if Jack did not drop his weapon, and when he was being read his Miranda rights…all was black. All was numb. This was like the destruction of Gallifrey, all over again. Except this time, it was someone the Doctor had a real, personal connection with.

This time, it was Sam.

The Doctor stared as the Master clung pathetically to the pole while being sucked into the Eye of Harmony. He knew that just letting the Master fall in would be more beneficial for the universe in the end, but…he just couldn't let him die.

Maybe…just maybe…Koschei was still there. Somewhere, deep down inside, behind the twisted brambles and thorny vines of the Master's malignant lunacy, his old friend, his old… love …was still in there.

Despite all of the Master's sins, the lives he'd taken, the countless he'd made to suffer, the worlds he'd destroyed, the instances when he attempted to kill the Doctor, even the instances when he'd been successful in killing the Doctor…in spite of these dastardly deeds, all these trespasses…the Doctor forgave the Master.

It was himself that he could not forgive.

He held out his hand to help the Master. "Give me your hand!" he cried desperately. But the Master swatted his hand away, too full of pride and hate for the Doctor. (And why wouldn't he be? After all…the Doctor had shaped the monster in front of him today out of the man he'd sworn to love.)

The Doctor watched helplessly as the Master was sucked into the Eye Of Harmony, and felt his hearts break all over again…

"Who's in charge of this place?" the Doctor demanded, aiming his gun at the Controller, who instead of answering, continued to count deliriously. "This Satellite's more than a Game Station. Who killed Sam Tyler?!"

"All staff are reminded that solar flares-"

"I want an answer!" shouted the Doctor.

"She can't reply," said one of the staff. The Doctor switched his weapon on him. "Don't shoot!" squeaked the man.

The Doctor sighed and casually tossed the gigantic firearm at the man. "Oh, don't be so thick, like I was ever gonna shoot. Captain, we've got more guards on the way up. Secure the exits."

"Yes, sir," replied Jack, following the Doctor's orders.

The Doctor turned his glare back to the staff member. "You. What were you saying?"

"But I've got your gun," said the man confusedly.

"Okay, so shoot me, why can't she answer?" asked the Doctor impatiently.

"She's…er…can I put this down?"

"If you want, just hurry up!"

"Thanks. Sorry," the skittish man apologized, setting the gun down on the ground. "The Controller is linked to the transmissions. The entire output goes through her brain. You're not a member of staff, so she doesn't recognize your existence." He studied the Doctor as he was about to be struck across the face.

"What's her name?" asked the Doctor.

"I don't know," said the man. "She was installed when she was five years old. That's the only life she's ever known."

"Door's sealed," reported Jack, coming back. "We should be safe for about ten minutes."

"Keep an eye on them," replied the Doctor.

"But that stuff you were saying about something going on with the Game Station," the man broke in. "I think you're right. I've kept a log. Unauthorized transmats, encrypted signals, it's been going on for years."

"Show me," ordered the Doctor.

Meanwhile, Jack was attempting open a door. "You're not allowed in there," said another staff member, this one a short woman. "Archive Six is out of bounds. "

Jack held up his two guns. "Do I look like an out of bounds sort of guy?" Then he turned and broke into Archive Six.

The woman turned to the Doctor. "If you're not holding us hostage, then open the door and let us out. The staff are terrified!"

"That's the same staff who execute hundreds of contestants every day," snapped the Doctor.

"That's not our fault. We're just doing our jobs."

"And with that sentence, you just lost the right to even talk to me. Now back off!" the Doctor roared.

Suddenly, all the lights and computer screens in the flickered and dimmed. "That's just the solar flares," explained the rather skittish staff member. "They interfere with the broadcast signal, so this place automatically powers down. Planet Earth gets a few repeats. It's all quite normal."

"Doctor?" said the woman that the Doctor had just told to shut up.

"Whatever it is, you can wait."

The woman pointed to the Controller. "I think she wants you."

"Doctor? Doctor?" called the Controller, her voice sounding human for the first time since the Doctor had entered. She sounded like a scared child. "Where's the Doctor?"

The Doctor walked over. "I'm here."

"Can't see," her voice quavered. "I'm blind. So blind. All my life, blind! All I can see is numbers…but I saw you."

"What do you want?" asked the Doctor seriously.

"Solar flares hiding me. They can't hear me. My masters, they always listen, but they can't hear me now, the sun…the sun is so bright."

"Who are your masters?" interrogated the Doctor.

"They wired my head." She looked fearful. "The name is forbidden. They control my thoughts. My masters. My masters. I had to be careful. They monitor transmissions but they don't watch the programs. I could hide you inside the games. Knew that you would find me."

"My friend died inside your games," growled the Doctor.

"Doesn't matter," said the Controller.

"Don't you dare tell me that!" he threatened.

"They've been hiding. My masters, hiding in the dark space, watching and shaping the Earth so, so…so many years. Always been there, guiding humanity, hundreds and hundred of years."

"Who are they?" The Doctor pushed.

"They wait and plan and grow in numbers. They're strong now. So strong, my masters."

"Who are they?"

"But speak of you, my masters…" She stared out, wide eyed. "They fear the Doctor."

"Tell me, who are they?" the Doctor demanded, but just at that moment, unfortunately, the solar flares passed, and the Station repowered. The Controller resumed her mindless counting.

"When's the next solar flare?" the Doctor shot at the finicky staff member.

"Two years time," he replied.

"Fat lot of good that is," grumbled the Doctor, as Jack returned from Archive Six.

"Found the TARDIS," Jack said.

"We're not leaving now."

"No, but the TARDIS worked it out. You'll want to watch this." He turned to the girl. "Lynda, could you stand over there for me, please?

"I just want to go home," said Lynda, grimacing.

"It'll only take a second," assured Jack, offering a signature charming smile. "Could you stand in that spot? Quick as you can. Everybody watching? Okay. Three, two, one!"

Jack touched a control on the panel, and suddenly, a bright white beam, like the one that had killed Sam, was emitted from some point in the ceiling and zapped Linda-with-a-Y out of existence.

The Doctor stared at Jack in horror. "But you killed her!" he exclaimed.

Jack grinned confidently. "Oh, do you think?"

Another press of a button, and, miraculously, another beam of energy appeared two feet to the Doctor's left, along with Lynda. She swept her head around looking dazed, but alright nonetheless. "What the hell was that?" she asked.

"It's a transmat beam," said Jack, looking elated. "Not a disintegrator. A secondary transmat system. People don't get killed in the games. They get transported across space. Doctor, Sam is still alive!"

The Doctor had never been so open to accept a hug from the Captain in his long lives. "He's somewhere out there!" he said joyously.

"Doctor!" cried the Controller. "Coordinates 5.6.1-"

"Don't! The solar flare's gone!" exclaimed the Doctor. "They'll hear you!"

"-point 4.3-No, my masters, I defy you!" she screeched in pain. "Sigma seven seven-" The code was broken off by the Controller's shriek as her pale white body was electrocuted and destroyed down to white vapor.

The Doctor stared at the space where the Controller had been suspended, like a sickly crucifix. "They took her," he said with remorse.

They would not let her die in vain.

The skittish staff member gave Jack a microchip as he worked at the main computer, trying to locate Sam through the stuttered coordinates the Controller had supplied them. "Look, use that. It might contain the final numbers. I kept a log of all the unscheduled transmissions."

Jack studied the chip. "Nice," he said, looking up at the man with a megawatt smile. "Thanks. Captain Jack Harkness, by the way."

"I'm Davidge Pavale," said the man, smiling shyly as he accepted a handshake.

"Nice to meet you, Davidge Pavale."

"There's a time and a place," the Doctor reminded Jack.

"Are you saying this entire set up's been a disguise all along?" asked the woman.

"Going way back," replied the Doctor. "Installing the Jagrafess a hundred years ago. Someone's been playing a long game, controlling the human race from behind the scenes for generations."

"Click on this," said Jack, giving the Doctor the remote control to the holoscreen. The Doctor clicked the button, and the screen converted to an astro-diagram. "The transmat delivers to that point, right on the edge of the solar system," said Jack, directed the focus to a certain point on the screen.

The woman inspected the point. "There's nothing there," she said.

"It looks like nothing because that's what this satellite does," said the Doctor. "Underneath the transmission there's another signal."

"Doing what?" asked Davidge.

"Hiding whatever's out there. Hiding it from sonar, radar, scanner. There's something sitting right on top of planet Earth, but it's completely invisible. If I cancel the signal…" A few codes typed into the computer, and the screen revealed a huge space craft.

The Doctor stared at it, hearts sinking. It can't be, he thought, as more continued to appear on the screen.

"That's impossible," said Jack. "I know those ships. They were destroyed."

"Obviously, they survived," said the Doctor in horror.

"Who did? Who are they?" asked Lynda.

"Two hundred ships," continued the Doctor, staring at the screen. "More than two thousand on board each one…that's just about half a million of them."

"Half a million what?" said Davidge.

The Doctor suppressed a shudder. "Daleks."

The holoscreen shifted to a view of the interior of the Dalek mother ship. They were making contact.

The Doctor spied Sam, in his ratty blue jeans and red t-shirt, standing against the wall in the background. Despite the eminent danger, his hearts leapt at the sight of him. He was alive.

Sam, his eyes connecting with the Doctor's, gave a weak smile. Hello, mate, he seemed to say.

"I WILL TALK TO THE DOCTOR!" blared the one that seemed to be in charge.

"Oh, will you? That's nice." The Doctor tore his eyes away from his friend and looked at the Dalek. He gave a mock friendly wave. "Hello!"

"THE DALEK STRATAGEM NEARS COMPLETION. THE FLEET IS ALMOST READY. YOU WILL NOT INTERVENE."

The Doctor's expression turned sour. "Oh, really? Why's that, then?"

"WE HAVE YOUR ASSOCIATE," countered the Dalek. The Doctor swallowed, temper rising at the thought of Sam in the clutches of the cold, evil creatures. "YOU WILL OBEY OR HE WILL BE EXTERMINATED."

Sam glanced at the Doctor on the screen, trying to look impassive, but the Doctor could see the fear in his eyes, even with the separation. He felt his blood boiling with hate for the Daleks, the ones who wiped out his people, and who were now threatening to take another life. The life of a person he…

"No."

The Daleks hesitated, as if unsure what to say. "EXPLAIN YOURSELF," demanded the head Dalek.

"I said no," repeated the Doctor.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS NEGATIVE?"

"It means no," he said.

"BUT HE WILL BE DESTROYED!" insisted the Dalek.

"No!" shouted the Doctor, standing up from his chair and glaring at the Dalek, right into its cold little eye stalk. "Because this is what I'm going to do. I'm going to rescue him," he said defiantly. "I'm going to save Sam Tyler from the middle of the Dalek fleet, and then I'm going to save the Earth, and then, just to finish off, I'm going to wipe every last stinking Dalek out of the sky!"

"BUT YOU HAVE NO WEAPONS!" argued the Dalek. "NO DEFENSES! NO PLAN!"

"Yeah," growled the Doctor. He grinned coldly at them. "And doesn't that scare you to death?"

Then he looked at the other man on the screen. "Sam?" he said.

Sam swallowed, his eyes wide. "Yes, Doctor?" he replied.

The Doctor smiled determinedly at him. "I'm coming to get you," he said, then reached out with the remote and broke the connection.

Chapter 17: The Companion, Volume 17

Notes:

Chapter based on "Parting Of The Ways" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 18, 2005 (1/4).

Chapter Text

The TARDIS materialized in the orangy-red meadow outside of the Prydonian, and Theta Sigma came rushing out. He was very much changed since he had left Gallifrey. His physical body was much older, about the Earth equivalent of thirty five or forty. His untidy blond curls were clipped short, and he had long since ditched his old student robes for a simple pair of black slacks, black dress shoes, and white suit shirt, accompanied by a black tie. He could easily be mistaken for a human being.

Theta excited looked around him. "Home!" he cried. He flung himself on the ground. "Oh, hello, old field! Hello, red grass!"

He jumped up and waved gaily to his old alma mater. "Hello, Prydonian! Hello, double suns! Hello, Gallifrey! I'm finally home!"

Theta spied a man head out of the building. "Bless my soul, it's old Borusa!" Theta muttered to himself. He immediately dashed up to him. "Borusa, Borusa! It's me!"

Borusa, a little worse for wear than the last time Theta had seen him, blinked up at Theta confused. "Hmm? Me who?"

"Theta Sigma, sir!" said Theta with a hiccupy laugh. "You haven't forgotten me that quickly, have you?"

Borusa's brow wrinkled. "Theta Sigma, Theta Sigma...it faintly rings a bell."

"Sir, I'm so sorry that I left, but...well, honestly, I don't know how to explain myself." Theta rubbed the back of his neck. "But listen, you wouldn't know where Koschei is, would you? You know, shorter fellow, dark hair, purple eyes. Oakdown."

Borusa, who finally seemed to recall, stared at Theta with fresh eyes. "You!" he sputtered. "How dare you even show your face around here!"

"Er...I don't know what you mean, sir."

"Never, in my six hundred years of teaching, have I ever encountered such a shiftless, underhanded, rebellious-" Borusa seemed to be instigating one of his famous tirades, but Theta cut him off.

"Er, don't mean to be rude, sir, but didn't you tell me you'd been a teacher for five hundred years?" he asked.

Borusa glared at Theta pointedly. "Three out of ten, Master Sigma. That was nearly a century ago."

Theta froze. "A hundred years. Professor...you must be joking."

"Oh, you mean you were not aiming for the distant future?" asked Borusa, raising an eyebrow. "Well, no wonder you stole that TARDIS. You obviously didn't pass your final examination."

"Well, actually, sir, I never got to take it, you see-"

"Come with me," growled Borusa, roughly grabbing Theta's arm. "You're obviously not that bright. You do realize that the pilferage of a TARDIS is considered high treason?"

Theta gasped. "What? No, Professor-!"

"I don't want to hear excuses, boy!" exclaimed Borusa, as if Theta had just tried to explain to him why he hadn't done his homework. "Come along. You must see the High Council immediately. But not before changing out those God awful clothes and into something respectable!"

Theta's mind reeled as Borusa tugged him along. A hundred years? No. That's impossible.

Koschei…

The Doctor didn't allow himself to breathe easily until Sam was back in the TARDIS, and he had pulled him into a tight squeeze. "Feels like I haven't seen you in years," said Sam, not even bothering to hide the relief or joy in his voice.

"Told you I'd come and get you," said the Doctor, giving him one of his rare smiles, the ones he reserved for special people. And Sam was very special indeed.

"I never doubted it," said Sam.

"I did," admitted the Doctor. "You alright?"

"Yeah. You?"

The Doctor shrugged nonchalantly. "Not bad. Been better." He went over to inspect the stinking remains of the Dalek while Jack and Sam hugged and said hellos.

"You said they were extinct," said Sam, meaning the Dalek. "How come they're still alive?"

"One minute, they're the greatest threat in the universe, the next, they vanished out of time and space," said Jack, also sounding mystified.

The Doctor swallowed. "They went off to fight a bigger war. The Time War."

Jack's blue eyes widened. "I thought that was just a legend."

"I was there," said the Doctor, staring at the Dalek's spoilt body. "The war between the Daleks and the Time Lords, with the whole of creation at stake. My people were destroyed, but they took the Daleks with them. I almost thought it was worth it." He blinked. "Now it turns out they died for nothing."

'There's thousands of them now," said Sam, glancing at the doors of the TARDIS. "We could barely stop one. What are we going to do?"

The Doctor looked up and put on a plucky, I-don't-give-a-damn, expression. "No good standing around here chin wagging! Human race, you'd gossip all day. The Daleks have got the answers." He clapped his hands together. "Let's go and meet the neighbors."

"Bring forward the accused," commanded the court manager, Arken. The guards pushed Theta into the ring, who had been stripped of his human attire and uncomfortably stuffed into traditional Gallifreyan robes. The only difference between these and his Prydonian uniform was that his old garb had been bright scarlet, and the ones he wore now were dark grey. The colors of a prisoner.

The manager cast an imperious look down at him. "What are the charges?"

The bailiff cleared his throat. "Case Four-Nine-Six-Beta-Gelf: the accused appropriated a TARDIS and left Gallifrey with it, failing to return until nearly a century later."

Arken gazed down at Theta. "That is a very serious charge. How do you plead?"

Theta swallowed. "Not guilty," he declared.

Arken raised an eyebrow. "Very bold. Do you have an alibi?"

"Well…yes," said Theta. "You see, I am currently ninety six years old. However, when I left Gallifrey, I was only fifty nine. I spent the next thirty seven years trying to return home, but…I didn't know how to fly the TARDIS very well. I hadn't even gotten the chance to take the examination for my license."

"According to the records, you escaped Gallifrey on the date of Tranzar-Michtectla, in the year Bowie-Har-0-0-6-1, and did return until yesterday, Apple-Stargate, Tirgis-Sigmund-8-4-11-3. You were absent for almost a hundred years, relative time."

"I didn't escape!" objected Theta. "You don't understand. I woke up in that TARDIS, and was stranded in space-time for nearly four years!"

"Excuse me, 'woke up'?" asked Arken, raising a surreptitious eyebrow.

"Yes, I woke up inside the TARDIS," said Theta. "I remember going to bed after a long day of classes. I was studying in the library until very late, long after second sunset. I went back to my dorm room. My roommate was already asleep. I went to bed, fell asleep, and the next morning, I woke up inside the console room of my TARDIS."

"A likely story!" exclaimed Arken. "Why, I've never heard such a porous, pathetic excuse for a defense. I suppose you stole the TARDIS in your sleep?"

"I didn't steal the TARDIS, it stole me!" Theta insisted.

"I'll hear no more of this inane drivel," declared Arken, banging his gavel. "I sentence the accused to four regenerations in the Arcadian Penitentiary. Proceed."

"Wait." A regal voice called out. Everyone in the room turned to look and gasped when they saw who it was.

"Lord President Pundat!" exclaimed Arken, standing from his pulpit and bowing. "To what do I owe this honor?"

"I've come here by the order of Rassilon," said Pundat, surveying the room. His eyes rested upon Theta Sigma for a moment, then back at the judge. "It is his wish that this young…degenerate of the House of Lungbarrow is exonerated from all charges immediately."

The onlookers gasped and muttered excitedly to themselves. Arken looked beside himself with shock. "Lord President, surely you can't mean that!"

"Do you question my authority?" asked Pundat, raising an eyebrow calmly, but threateningly. "Or perhaps, the will of Rassilon?"

"Why, no, of course not," sputtered Arken. "But-"

"Then no more needs to be said on the matter." Pundit nodded to Theta, who was the most confused of all. "Release him."

The bailiff relinquished Theta of his handcuffs. "Thank you. Theta Sigma, do they call you? I wish you to come with me."

Theta wordlessly followed the President out of the courtroom, leaving Arken and the rest of the jury speechless.

"Sir, thank you so much," said Theta, in utter shock.

"Don't thank me. Thank Rassilon. It was his jurisdiction that you be vindicated."

"But sir…why would Rassilon be concerned that a TARDIS thief be excused?" asked Theta. "Not that I stole the TARDIS. I never did, I swear."

"It is no worry of mine," said Pundat. "Perhaps Rassilon believes your story. Perhaps he knows something we don't. Perhaps you are meant for some greater purpose down the line. I wouldn't look a gift Ood in the tentacles. Go home, Theta Sigma. Spend time with your family."

The Doctor was met with cries of "EXTERMINATE!" and firings of the Daleks' laser cannons, which bounced harmlessly off of the invisible shield around the TARDIS. The Doctor held his arms in mock surprise. "Is that it?" he asked. "Useless! Nul point!" He turned the TARDIS and said to Sam and Jack, who were curiously poking their heads out. "It's alright. Come on out. That force field can hold back anything."

"Almost anything," corrected Jack.

"Yes, but I wasn't going to tell them that, thanks," said the Doctor, smiling grimly at him.

"Sorry."

The Doctor turned back to the Daleks and stared them down, straight into their sinister little eye stalks. "Do you know what they call me in the ancient legends of the Dalek home world? 'The Oncoming Storm'."

The Daleks remained stoic, but the Doctor knew them all too well. "You may have removed all your emotions. But I reckon right down deep in your DNA, there's one little spark left. And that's fear. Doesn't it just burn when you face me?"

The Daleks slightly turned to one another, trying to figure out what to do.

"So, tell me," the Doctor said. "How did you survive the Time War?"

"They survived through me."

The Doctor turned to look at the source of the voice. His gaze was met by a huge Dalek, a great green and purple mass of membranes, floating inside a tank of some extraneous liquid.

The Emperor of the Daleks.

"I just wanted to say, um…thanks, I suppose," said Linda-with-a-Y. "And…I'll do my best." They parted ways with an awkward handshake.

Jack was next. "Well…it's been fun," he said, grinning, trying to keep up the gallant act. "But I guess this is goodbye."

"Oi, don't talk like that, mate," said Sam, touching Jack on the shoulder. "The Doctor's going to do it. He always does."

Jack smiled at Sam painstakingly. He cupped his cheek with one hand. "Sam," he said, looking the other man dead in the eyes. "You are worth fighting for."

Sam stiffened a bit as Jack leaned in and dropped a chaste kiss on his lips. His eyes went wide, and his eyebrows shot up. It was clearly his first kiss with a man. Jack chuckled gently at Sam's discomfort and clapped him on the back.

"Wish I'd never met you, Doctor," said the Captain, turning to him. The Doctor chortled a bit. Jack pressed his hands to his cheeks and stared at him with big, soulful blue eyes. "I was much better off as a coward." He kissed the Doctor, softly, and a tiny bit longer and more intensely than the friendly peck he'd given to Sam.

Then, with a final finger point to each of them and a "See you in hell", the Captain boarded the lift. And their friend was gone.

The Doctor and Sam watched him go. "He's gonna be alright," said Sam.

"Yeah," said the Doctor, knowing that it was most likely untrue.

Sam bit his lower lip, awkwardly. "Er…that was my first kiss. You know…with a bloke."

The Doctor looked him and rolled his eyes. But he was smiling. "I know. I know."

"Theta," whispered Verity, cupping his face, looking at him, misty eyed. Theta couldn't believe his eyes as he looked upon his own mother. The difference in time really showed. She'd aged so much.

"Hello, Mother," said Theta, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to it. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Shh," she said, hugging him to her. "I don't care. You're home. That's all that matters now."

Theta accepted a firm handshake from his older half-brother, Braxatiel. "So. What were you doing for the last century, brother mine?" he asked, allowing the corner of his lips to turn up slightly. That was the closest Brax ever got a smile.

"Only thirty seven years," corrected Theta, grinning. "Oh, but the universe is absolutely astounding. I've seen so much, and I've only just begun. I must tell you all about it. But first, I really must find Koschei. I'm sure he'd want to know that I'm alive."

"Ah, the Oakdown boy." said Brax. "He's gone."

"Mm? What's that?" asked Theta, turning his good ear toward his brother. He'd gotten into something of a disagreement with a Sycorax awhile ago, and it had somewhat impaired his hearing.

"Your friend. He left the planet some time ago. I believe he was trying to locate you."

"Really?" asked Theta. "Well, darn. I'd really hoped he'd be here. I had so much to tell him. Well, fine, I'll just get my TARDIS later and-"

"Your TARDIS?" Brax raised his eyebrows. "Oh, brother mine, you surely can be naïve sometimes. Do you really think stolen property will just be returned to you? You don't even have a license to operate a TARDIS. And besides, that type 40 is has been outdated for decades now. It's probably the last of its model; it's most likely been put into a museum."

"What?!" Theta looked surprised. "Put my TARDIS in a museum? They can't just do that to her!"

"They can and they have."

"Besides, my dear," said Verity, smiling as she took her son's hand. "You cannot leave Gallifrey now. Not on the eve of your wedding."

"Wedding?" asked Theta.

"Why, yes, my dear. Your father derived from an old Rassilonate line. You, in turn, are betrothed to the air of the House of Jacaria."

"But I can't-I can't get married, Mother!" exclaimed Theta, leaping back a little. "I don't want to get married! I want to find Koschei!"

"Well, I'm sorry, my dear," said Verity soothingly. "But you were signed into this marriage contract since the day you were loomed. What's done is done."

Theta stared at his mother in horror. "But…but…"

Koschei.

Chapter 18: The Companion, Volume 18

Notes:

Chapter based on "Parting Of The Ways" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 18, 2005 (2/4).

Chapter Text

"Suppose…" Sam began to say something, but then hesitated.

"What?" asked the Doctor, as he and Sam sat on the floor, across from each other, untangling wires.

Sam shook his head. "Nothing."

The Doctor sifted through more wire. "You said 'suppose'."

"No, I was just thinking," said Sam. "I mean, obviously, you can't, but…look, you've got a bloody time machine, mate. Why can't you just go back to last week and warn them?"

"Soon as the TARDIS lands in that second, I become part of events. Get stuck in the timeline," answered the Doctor.

"Yeah," said Sam. "Thought it would be something like that. 'Rip a hole in the space-time continuum' or something, right?"

The Doctor looked up in surprise. "Yes, actually."

"Yeah, well," said Sam, shrugging. "I've seen Back To The Future. This is heavy, Doc."

They shared a laugh, then went back to the circuitry sorting. After a moment, the Doctor said, "There's another thing the TARDIS could do."

Sam looked at him, questioningly.

"It could take us away," said the Doctor. "We could leave. Let history take its course. We go to Marbella in 1989."

"We can't," said Sam.

"And why can't we?"

He shook its head. "It's just like the thing with the Dalek, Doctor. You're too good. You couldn't just walk away when people are in danger. It's not you." He grinned. "And frankly…I wouldn't have you any other way."

The Doctor slowly looked up, eyes wide. He stared at the other man for the longest time.

Sam awkwardly laughed and looked away. "Look at me," he coughed. "Need to go to a hunting gallery or a strip club or something. I'm getting all mushy."

"Mushy's alright sometimes," said the Doctor. "It never even occurred to you, did it? Asking to leave."

Sam shrugged. "Well…I guess I'm too good, too."

The Doctor smiled.

Suddenly, there was a soft, high-pitched whirring noise. The Doctor listened intently with his big ears. "The Delta Wave's started building. How long does it need?"

He and Sam jumped up to check the scanners. The Doctor punched some buttons and checked the readings on the screens. He watched and observed and calculated.

The Delta Wave could be completed by the time the Daleks arrived. But it would be too powerful. It would wipe out everything on this Satellite and on Earth, humans and Daleks alike. They all would die.

He had failed.

Sam watched the Doctor's face fall. "How bad is it?" he asked quietly.

The Doctor swallowed. All was lost. There was nothing for it now. The Daleks were coming, and they were going to win. They were going to destroy everything…again.

No. Not everything. Because there was one thing the Doctor cared about. More than the Earth, more than the people in the lower floors, more than his own life.

And his name was Sam Tyler.

He knew what he must do.

The Doctor put on a fake smile and jumped up. "Sam Tyler, you're a genius!" he exclaimed, and pulled him into a tight squeeze.

Sam confusedly smiled as he hugged the Doctor back. "I am?" he asked.

"Of course you are!" said the Doctor. "We can do it! If I use the TARDIS to cross my own timeline-yes!"

He turned and dashed into the TARDIS, Sam closely following. "Hold that down," he said, directing Sam to a certain lever. "And keep position!"

"What's it do?" asked Sam, breathlessly.

"Cancels the buffers," replied the Doctor. "If I'm very clever-and I'm more than clever, I'm brilliant!-I might just save the world! Or rip it apart," he added as an afterthought.

"Er, yeah, I'd shoot for the first one," said Sam.

"Me too! Now, I've just got to go and power up the Game Station. Hold on!" The Doctor raced out of the TARDIS and slammed the door shut behind him.

Sam, hand still on the lever, waited patiently for the Doctor to come back. After a moment or two, he heard the TARDIS's engines start up.

"Er, Doctor? Can I let go of this thing yet?" he called. "The ship's started up!"

But there was no reply.

Sam raced to the doors and tried to pull them open, but the Doctor had fixed. "Doctor, let me out!" he yelled, pounding his fist on the door. "Doctor?! What do you think you're doing? Doctor!"

As Sam continued to beat on the door, the TARDIS took flight, leaving the Doctor behind.

Sam stood in the console room, staring at the doors, as if willing the Doctor to come waltzing through them, and they'd go off to see Marbella or Feldspoon or whatever. "Doctor," he whispered.

"This is Emergency Program One," said a voice from behind him.

Sam gasped and turned around. "Doctor?" he said.

But it was not the Doctor. It was a blue-grey, grainy hologram of him.

"Sam, now listen, this is important," instructed the holo-Doctor. "If this message is activated, then it can only mean one thing: we must be in danger, and I mean fatal. I'm dead, or about to die any second, with no chance of escape."

"No!" gasped Sam, rushing over to the hologram, as it were actually the Doctor, as if he could actually make it see sense. But he had about as much change changing the hologram's mind as he did the real Doctor's.

"That's okay," continued the holo-Doctor. "Hope it's a good death. But I promised to look after you, and that's what I'm doing. The TARDIS is taking you home."

Sam shook his head in frustration and despair. "You stupid man! You can't do this!"

As if he heard what Sam had to say, the hologram shook its head and said, "And I bet you're protesting and saying, "You can't do this, mate!" Typical! But hold on and just listen a bit more. The TARDIS can never return for me. Emergency Program One means I'm facing an enemy that should never get their hands on this machine. So this is what you should do…let the TARDIS die. Just let this old box gather dust. No one can open it, no one'll even notice it. Let it become a strange little thing standing on a street corner. And over the years, the world'll move on and the box will be buried. And if you want to remember me, then you can do one thing. That's all, one thing…"

The holo-Doctor's head turned and looked straight at Sam, straight into his eyes. Sam gasped, a bit startled.

The Doctor smiled warmly at him, his blue eyes crinkling as they did when he smiled at Sam. "Have a good life," he said, his voice no longer sounding like it had been prerecorded; it sounded like the Doctor was right there, in the room with him. "Do that for me, Sam. Have a fantastic life."

And the hologram faded away.

"You can't do this to me," said Sam. "You can't do this to yourself! No!" He rushed over the controls and tried desperately to turn the TARDIS around. "Take me back!" he yelled. "You can't leave him!"

The TARDIS landed. "No!" cried Sam angrily, smacking his hand on the side of the console. He dashed outside, and in dismay, surveyed the familiar landscape of downtown London. The box had landed right outside the Powell Estates.

The Doctor had sent him home.

"No!" he said, rushing back inside. "Fly!" he said, pulling and pushing random buttons and switches. "Fly, damn you! We have to go back!"

But the TARDIS ignored him. "Come on, help me!" yelled Sam in frustration, still trying to work the console. "We have to go back!...We have to go back…"

Sam slowly slid to the floor of the console room. "No," he whispered. "No…"

He lay there for sometime until he heard the door of the TARDIS creek open tentatively.

"Sammy?" he heard a voice say.

"'Lo, Ann," he replied bleakly.

"I…I was just passing by on one of my rounds, and I saw the ship…it's been about three months," she said worriedly. "It seems like the Doctor's getting better at driving the ship, eh?"

"Oh, don't worry," said Sam, looking up at her. "I'm home. For good."

She bent down beside him. "What happened? Where's the Doctor?"

He swallowed. "Dead."

Annie gasped.

"He's dead, or just as good as, and there's nothing I can do to help him," Sam continued. "He knew there was nothing that could be done. So he sent me home. He sent me away...to save me."

Theta sullenly slipped on his marriage robes. They were unusually plain for normal Gallifreyan garb. They were plain black, with mint green trim-the house color of Lungbarrow.

He surveyed himself in the mirror silently. Black. It was a good color for this occasion.

"It's not exactly your color, I'll admit," said a voice behind him. "Too dark. Too angry. Too…evil."

Theta whirled around.

His visitor gave him a somber look. "Much better on me," he said, gesturing to his own black cloak.

Theta swallowed dryly. He tried to think of something to say, but what? What could he possibly say?

"You have a beard."

The man nodded. "It seems to fit this body well."

Theta blinked, as the meaning of the words set in. "You…regenerated?"

"Twice, actually," said the man. He looked Theta over. "And you're wearing marriage robes."

Theta could feel the pain and sorrow behind those words, the hidden meaning: "You were supposed to wear those on our wedding day." He could feel his old friend's hearts breaking with the very syllables, and his own hearts as well. "Koschei-" he began to say.

"No one's called me that in a very long time," said the man.

Theta looked down at his shoes briefly. "Then what do they call you?"

"The Master."

Theta let out a slight snigger in spite of himself.

The Master raised an eyebrow. "What's funny?" he inquired. His tone was calm, but highly poisonous.

"Nothing, nothing," said Theta. "Just…nothing."

"Yes, well, when I left Gallifrey, to go looking for my friend," he spat venomously, "I required a name that contracted respect. I'm afraid 'Koschei' didn't quite achieve that goal."

"Koschei was a brilliant name," murmured Theta, still not meeting his former friend's eyes.

The Master didn't reply to this. "So…what's she like?" he asked. "Your bride-to-be."

"Pleasant enough," replied Theta quickly. "She's a nice girl."

"Well, that's good for you," said the Master, trying desperately to mean it.

Theta cleared his throat. "Master, I'm very sorry. But…I had to go. I had to be free."

"Free from what, exactly?" snapped the Master, shooting darts at Theta with his glare.

"Just…just free. I wouldn't expect you to understand," said Theta, looking away.

"Ah, I see," said the Master. "And now that you've had your taste of liberty, you've returned home for the quaint life of wedded bliss. My, Theta, you really have it all, don't you?"

"Stop it," whispered Theta.

"Oh, what's the matter? Can't stand to hear the truth? Can't stand to be awoken from the pleasant dream that is your life?" The Master whirled away and stepped toward a window. "I'm afraid I won't be making it to your wedding. But don't worry. You and your dear ones have made it clear that I'm not wanted. Goodbye, Theta."

And with that, he fell from the window.

"Koschei!" exclaimed Theta, remembering suddenly that his dressing room was on the second story and dashed to the window.

The Master's TARDIS was parked on the side of the wall. The Master glared at Theta from the entrance to it, then slammed the door shut. It faded away with a loud whooshing.

Theta stared at the spot where the Master's TARDIS had been despondently. But before he could cry, before one single tear could fall, the door opened.

"Lord Lungbarrow?" asked the orderly. "Is everything alright?"

No. "Yes, everything's fine." He turned around. "Let's get this over with."

Chapter 19: The Companion, Volume 19

Notes:

Chapter based on "Parting Of The Ways" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 18, 2005 (3/4).
Contains scenes from The Time Monster by Robert Sloman, original air date: May 20, 1972.

Chapter Text

"They started selling little cups of coleslaw here," said Annie, sitting down at the table. She'd driven herself and a stony silent Sam to a cheap, dinky diner nearby. "I don't much like it though. Tastes too much like hospital food…you know, there's a new pizza place out on Minto Road. You'd like it, they've got real good margarita pizza…oh, Sam, are you sure you won't eat anything?"

"Not hungry," he muttered, staring out of the window.

Annie sighed and put down her fork. "Sammy, look, if there was anything we could do-"

"200,000 years in the future, he's dying, and I'm stuck here, doing nothing!"

"He sent you home because he wants you safe," said Annie. "And I love him for that right now. You belong here, now, with me."

"But what do I do with myself?" snapped Sam. "What do I do? Get up, catch the bus, go to work, come back home…eat chips, and go to bed? Is that it?"

"It's what the rest of us do."

"Ann. You don't understand. I don't really know why, but…I need that life. I need to travel, to…be with the Doctor." Sam swallowed. "Maybe I can't explain it. But I have this feeling like I wasn't meant to be here, in this situation. It's like there's this other part of me, this whole other…life, this secret life, that I have. One where I can be free. And I need that life."

"A life without me?" demanded Annie.

"It's not about you, Annie. It's not even about me. It's about the Doctor. He's the most intelligent, most courageous, most good person I've ever known. When I was with him, he showed me things. And I don't mean all the traveling and seeing aliens and spaceships and things. That didn't matter, in the long run. The Doctor showed me what I've been searching for all my life: a home. I don't just mean the TARDIS. I mean the universe. It's big and it's complicated, and me and him, we were gonna see it all. I was lost, and the Doctor sought me out. He plucked me up from my pathetic little existence and showed me all the things I'm capable of, even if by accident, and I just can't-!"

"I'm sorry," said Annie, standing up, tears in her eyes. "I never realized how much you hated it here with me. I thought I made you happy, but I guess I wasn't enough." She grabbed her purse, through it over her shoulder and walked out.

"Annie!" But his cry was only met by the clanging of the bell on the café door.

Furious with himself for upsetting Annie (She really didn't deserve that, any of this. She'd been so patient with him, waiting around on him for months on end, never knowing when or if he was coming back. He'd been pretty crummy to her.) and not being able to get back to the Doctor, Sam ambled down to the basketball courts where he, Jimmy, and the Pace brothers used to hang out when they were teenagers. It was the same as he remembered. It was one of the few things that remained the same, after all that had happened.

Maybe…he could go back. To the way things were, he meant. Get a job at another shop, find himself another cheap apartment, pray to God Annie would take him back (Though, why should she at this point?)…he'd done it all his life. He could readjust. Settle down. And maybe, just maybe, in time, this constant drumming, these freaky visions would cease and fade from his memory, like a bad dream.

He could do what the Doctor told him: have a fantastic life.

Sam gazed across the blacktop. Some kids had recently been doodling with sidewalk chalk. A smiling yellow sun adorned with wavy flares graced what was almost a colorless scene. Today, the sky, the sidewalk, even the grass seemed grey.

Then, Sam blinked.

Bad Wolf.

Someone had written the ominous phrase on the asphalt. Sam's throat felt very dry. He looked up, and saw it again, spray painted on a brick wall. And there, on the side of a Dumpster.

Bad Wolf.

"What does it mean?" he whispered. "What are you trying to tell me? What the hell is 'bad wolf'?!"

He thought back to Satellite Five. To the great words, staring down upon the whole operation like a mighty eye of God.

"It's a link," he realized.

He turned and ran, back to the TARDIS. "I can get back! I know I can!"

The Master turned on a few switches and an image appeared on his large screen of the interior of the Doctor's TARDIS. The Doctor, in his outrageous and yet slightly accentuating red velvet suit, was at his own controls. The little girl, Jo, was rubbing her backside. "I think I've bruised my tailbone," she was saying.

The Doctor looked up. "Sorry about your coccyx, Jo, but these little things are sent to try us."

"My what?"

"Coccyx. Your tailbone!"

"I'm sorry about your coccyx too, Miss Grant," the Master finally spoke up. He had sort of a flair for the dramatic entrance in this body…well, actually, that characteristic popped up in every form. He smirked coldly. "How very sociable of both of you to drop in. What can I do for you, Doctor? Or is your visit purely social?"

"I thought we might have a little chat," said the Doctor, no brevity in his manor.

"What an excellent idea!" exclaimed the Master in mock delight. "Why not join me out here?"

The Doctor harrumphed. "One step outside my TARDIS and that would be the end of me, wouldn't it?"

The Master tsked a few times. "You have a very poor opinion of me, don't you, Doctor?"

"You've noticed! Well, well, well," said the Doctor, matching the Master's level of pleasant sarcasm.

"It might be of interest for you to know that I've put a time lock on your TARDIS," said the Master, smiling non-threateningly. That was somehow his worst smile. It meant he had what he wanted. "You cannot leave. Unless I lift it, of course."

"Do you think that I haven't thought of that, too?" asked the Doctor. "You're as trapped as I am. You couldn't even open that door of yours unless I wish it."

"Alternatively, I could fling you out into the time vortex now. I doubt whether you could do that to me, so be very, very careful, Doctor," countered the Master, growling a bit.

The Doctor glared him. "Do you really think I care what happens to me at the moment?" he asked, like a condescending child. "Don't you realize that your plans could ru-"

At this point, the Master had grown uninterested in the Doctor's jabber and flicked a switch on his console. The image of the Doctor, his lips moving back and forth, remained, but the sound disappeared. The Master chuckled to himself. "You know," he said, turning to Krasis, "he has an excellent brain, that man, though a little pedestrian." He put his hands on his hips and chuckled. "But, oh dear, what a bore the fellow is!"

"But is he dangerous?" fretted Krasis.

"He's dangerous enough," replied the Master. "But don't worry. I can handle him."

"But you said he was in there!" exclaimed Krasis, pointing to the blue box. "You told me he was safe in there!"

"Once he realizes that he's talking to himself, he'll be out here like a shot. Ah!" the Master exclaimed, seeing on the screen that the Doctor had turned to his young associate and was looking quite cross. "He's realized it at last. That took a long time, the slow witted fool. Now you watch. He cannot bear not to have the last word."

The Master watched as the Doctor pulled out a mini-loudspeaker from underneath his console. "Master, what is he doing?" needled Krasis.

"The same as I would, in his position," he answered.

"And what is that?"

"Wait and see, Krasis. Wait and see."

"And what are you going to do, Master?"

The Master just leered and chuckled. He was rather having fun, being so ornery. He felt as smug as a Cheshire Cat at the moment, playing these little pranks on the Doctor, like they'd done to each other in their Academy days.

"Testing, testing, testing. One, two, three, four, five. Testing," recited the Doctor, into the mic of his loudspeaker.

"I thought as much," said the Master, reaching for the controls on his console.

"Yes," said the Doctor, slightly cockily. "Can't turn me off now, can you? You've got to listen to me now."

"Have I?" challenged the Master, hitting a few buttons.

"Obviously, you've not as yet been able to bring Kronos through," said the Doctor. "Otherwise you wouldn't be going to Atlantis. So perhaps there's still time to make you realize the folly of your-"

Suddenly, the Doctor's words became garbled Gibberish. "-inyups senupwat. Neas nees nig datdat sig. Ilshnimuwat ijnilguin nyup nyp."

The Master put a hand to his ear. "I'm sorry, Doctor, what was that again?" He chortled mirthfully as the Doctor continued to speak backwards, then, realizing what the Master had done to his telepathic circuits, angrily turned off his speaker.

Sam had a plan. He remembered what had happened to Blon. If he could just figure out how to open the TARDIS console, he might be able to figure out how to fly it!

He stood in the TARDIS, studying the console, trying to figure out how he could open it. "Er…listen," he said, feeling a bit foolish talking to a ship. "I know you don't much care for me-"

The TARDIS gave a slight groan that Sam could've sworn was a "hmph".

"Yeah, but, see, that's not important right now," he said. "Because our Doctor, our…friend…he's in trouble. And we can't just leave him stranded. You've traveled with him for way longer than I have. And you know that he's too important to die. He's too good. So, please. Please just take me back to him."

The TARDIS remained unresponsive.

"Come on!" Sam yelled, resisting the urge to kick the console. He propped his hands on the edge and hung his head.

He stayed like that for a couple of minutes, until he heard a loud beeping outside, like a large truck backing up. Oh, what now? Sam worried that the TARDIS was about to be towed away or something, and he couldn't let that happen.

"Oi!" he called, rushing out. "What's-" Then he stopped.

Annie was hopping out of the cab of the great big yellow truck, a mass of chains in her arms. "Ann," said Sam, confused. "What are you-?"

"Shut up," she interrupted, dumping the metal chains in his arms. "And save your boyfriend. Before I change my mind."

She smiled faintly.

"Keep going!" Sam cried. "Floor it, Annie!"

The chain strained and stretched as the truck tugged on it. A small crack of light appeared in the console. "That's it, Annie! A little more!"

Annie gave the gas one final push, and the console popped open. Sam was blinded and was overtaken by the warm, golden energy.

Sam stared into the golden aura and felt a pulse of power course through his body, his brain, his very blood. And he lost himself…

Sam awoke in what he thought was the console room, except it was flooded by yellow light. He blinked a couple of times and looked up.

There was a man standing before him.

Actually, he was several men. A bright eyed boy with black hair, a short tan fellow, a medium sized pale man, a very tall man with sunglasses, a dark, burned creature, and many others among them. But for the most part, the man was short, had dark hair, and a goatee and mustache.

The man kept switching his form, back and forth.

"It's you," said Sam in wonder. "The man from my visions."

"Yes." He said. He shifted a few times. "I am the Master."

"Could you…er, decide on one shape?" asked Sam.

"Certainly." The Master changed once more, and remained, as the Academy boy. "Better?"

"Er…yeah," replied Sam. He slowly got to his feet. "Listen…Koschei, was it? Let me ask you something. Why do I have all these visions of you and the Doctor?"

"That is not important at the moment," said Koschei, in an ethereal tone. "What is impo-"

"No," said Sam. "I need to know. What are these visions?"

Koschei sighed. "They aren't visions, Sam Tyler. They're memories. Memories of my future. And…"

Sam's single heart stopped. "Memories of my past."

Koschei gave a single nod.

"But that means that I…I'm…" Sam couldn't say the words. "I'm the…"

"Not yet," said Koschei. "For now, you are Sam Tyler. And right now, the important thing is saving our Theta."

"How do we save him?" asked Sam.

"First of all," said Koschei, morphing into the medium sized, paler man, who Sam recognized as the Master with the stolen Trakenite body, "you must tell me. Why do you want to save the Doctor?"

"Because I…" Sam swallowed. He thought back to his memories of the Doctor. Not just as Sam Tyler, but when he was the Master, and even far, far back, to those wonderful days at the Academy. It felt strange, considering those memories as his. They didn't feel like his. It felt like he was watching a movie of someone else's life, through the eyes of a third party.

"That will pass," said the Trakenite Master. "In time, you will recover your real recollections. But first, you must answer the question. Why do you want to save the Doctor?"

"Because…" Sam took a breath and repeated the words the man in front of him had uttered so long ago. "The cosmos without the Doctor scarcely bares thinking about."

The Trakenite Master smiled, and again, morphed into another version of himself, this time, the tall man with the sunglasses. Another stolen body, this one human, and American. "You have answered correctly," the Bruce Master said.

"But how do I fly the TARDIS to the Doctor?" asked Sam. "I have to get to him."

The Master changed to his twelfth self, the one that had known the Third Doctor. "You must let the TARDIS inhabit your consciousness."

"How?"

"You are a psychic, Mr. Tyler. It should be fairly simple."

"Okay," said Sam, closing his eyes. He could feel the TARDIS's consciousness grabbing a hold of his own, like a large hand. "Wait," he said. "Will I remember any of this?"

"No," answered the Master. Sam's eyes popped back open in surprise.

He was looking at a mirror image of himself, except his hair was a bit shorter and neater, and he was wearing a plain black suit. The Sam-Master gazed back at him, his expression unreadable.

Sam looked at himself sadly. "I didn't think so." Then he shut his eyes, and let the TARDIS do its work.

Chapter 20: The Companion, Volume 20

Notes:

Chapter based on "Parting Of The Ways" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 18, 2005 (4/4).
Contains scenes from Logopolis by Christopher H. Bidmead, original air date: March 21, 1981.

Chapter Text

"We are beyond recriminations now," said the Monitor, as he, the Fourth Doctor, the Master, and the Doctor's three companions hurried back to the TARDIS. "Beyond everything."

"Not quite." The Doctor swallowed back his distaste and looked at the Master. "We must pool our resources."

Nyssa gasped. "The creature that killed my father?" she exclaimed, glaring at the Master, in his stolen body that had recently belonged to the kind, inventive Trakenite, Tremas.

"I can't choose the company I keep!" snapped the Doctor.

A smirk graced the Master's pilfered face. It was an expression that never would have suited Tremas, but befell the Master perfectly. "An alliance with you, Doctor?" he asked, sounding wickedly triumphant.

"In the circumstances, yes," scowled the Doctor, shoving his hands into the pockets of his thick burgundy coat.

"If we do cooperate, there'll be no question of you ever returning to Gallifrey," the Master pointed out.

"If we don't cooperate, there'll be no question of Gallifrey," countered the Doctor.

"Doctor, what are you doing?!" demanded Tegan, but the Doctor held up a hand to silence her. He understood their indignation. The Master had very recently killed those closest to Tegan and Nyssa, and although he didn't know it yet, he was about to kidnap Adric and utilize him for his own nefarious purposes. And how many times had the Master done he himself wrong? But now was not the time for harboring old grudges. He leaned toward the Master and said quietly, "As Time Lords, you and I have special responsibilities."

"Together, then." The Master leered, and the Doctor knew he was remembering old times. The Doctor frowned, not wanting the Master to think that this was in any way a permanent situation.

"But Doctor-"

"I've never chosen my own company!" bellowed the Doctor. "Nyssa, it was you who contacted me and begged me to help you find your father. Tegan, it's your own curiosity that got you into this. And Adric, a stowaway." The Doctor would never have admitted it out loud, but as much as he cared for his various traveling assistants over the years, he remembered a time when the Master would have been his preferred companion. Of course, not now. The Master had too much blood on his hands that he was unwilling to try to wash away. Perhaps if the Master showed any remorse for the evil things he did…but anyway.

At that moment, conveniently, the TARDIS reappeared. "Now I don't want any further argument. One, two, three, into the TARDIS," he said, rapidly pointing to each of his young ones.

Tegan and Nyssa clambered inside. Adric followed, but then turned and said to the Doctor, "Look, we want to help you-"

"It's impossible!" said the Doctor. "I'm collaborating with the Master. Now go on. Battle stations."

"But that man's a murderer!" Nyssa protested, but Adric pushed her along inside. "Come on, Nyssa," he said. "He means it."

The door to the TARDIS shut, and the Master extended his gloved hand to the Doctor. "Together?" he asked.

"One last hope," said the Doctor, reluctantly shaking the other man's hand.

Jack was dead, Linda-with-a-Y was dead, and Sam…well, Sam was safe. Somewhere on that dismal planet below, Sam's remains were buried miles under the dirt. He died some 200,000 years ago, probably in his sleep. A peaceful death-the one adventure the Doctor could never have.

But now, he could focus on performing the one last heroic act of his life. His last service to the universe-wiping out the Daleks, once and for all.

"Hail the Doctor, the great Exterminator!" taunted the Emperor.

"I'll do it!" roared the Doctor.

"Then prove yourself, Doctor. What are you? Coward? Or killer?"

The Doctor swallowed and gripped the handle of the Delta Wave, preparing to end it all.

But then an image came to him.

Sam was standing there, looking at him, extremely disappointed, in between him and the Emperor, in the center of all those Daleks, unflinching and unafraid.

"I won't let you do this," he said sternly.

The Doctor's clinched face muscles relaxed, and he let go of the control. "Coward," he whispered. "Any day."

Sam smiled proudly at him and vanished.

"Mankind will be harvested because of your weakness," said the Emperor.

"And what about me?" questioned the Doctor. "Am I becoming one of your angels?"

"You are the heathen. You will be exterminated!"

"Maybe it's time," he said.

He shut his eyes. If death was coming, let it come now. The way the Doctor saw it, either way, he would have lost. But at least this way, he lost in a manner that let him keep his morals. Maybe he really was the Doctor again.

"Alert! TARDIS materializing!" blared one of the Daleks.

The Doctor's eyes popped open. Over his shoulder, he could hear the familiar wheezing, groaning of his beloved blue box. He whirled around.

Sure enough, the TARDIS was fading in, its light flashing. It had returned. But how?!

"You will not escape!" cried the Emperor.

The doors opened, and the Doctor had to cover his eyes because he was temporarily blinded by a bright golden aura radiating from its interior. And standing right in its epicenter, in his ratty jeans, flannel shirt, and black hoodie…was Sam.

The Doctor stumbled backward as Sam ambled somewhat majestically out of the box, attended by long, swirling tendrils of golden light. The Doctor looked up at Sam in horror. He almost didn't recognize him.

Sam's facial expression was glazed over, and his eyes were emanating that same yellow energy as the TARDIS. "What have you done?" gasped the Doctor.

"I looked into the TARDIS…and the TARDIS looked into me," answered Sam in a voice that was not his own.

The Doctor's hearts dropped as he realized what had happened. "You looked into the Time Vortex! Sam, no one's meant to see that!"

"This is the abomination!" exclaimed the Emperor.

"Exterminate!" cried a Dalek, and fired at Sam, who simply put up a hand and deflected the beam. It bounced back harmlessly to its owner.

"I am the Bad Wolf," said Sam hazily. "I create myself. I take the words. I scatter them in time and space…"

The Doctor watched as Sam raised the same hand and waved it. The letters on the sign looking over the whole operation flew off of their placard and danced in the air. "A message to bring myself here," whispered Sam.

"Sam, you've got to stop this! You've got to stop this now!" pleaded the Doctor. "You've got the entire Vortex running through your head! You're gonna burn!"

"I want you safe, my dear Doctor," said Sam, his gaze falling to the Doctor, his golden eyes piercing into him. The Doctor swallowed. "Protected from the false god."

"You cannot harm me. I am immortal!" proclaimed the Emperor.

"You are tiny," declared Sam, glaring fiercely up at the great Dalek, looking more and more the defiant god. "I can see the whole of time and space, every atom of your existence, and I divide them." His golden eyes flared even more prominent.

He raised his hand once more, and slowly, one by one, the Daleks began to disintegrate into golden particles. "Everything must come to dust," said Sam. "All things. Everything dies."

A milky tear rolled down Sam's cheek and left a yellow streak there. "The Time War ends," he declared.

"I will not die," protested the Emperor, pounding his tentacles against the glass frustratedly. "I CANNOT DIE!"

On the holo-screen, the Emperor erupted into dust, and as the rest of his ship, and the whole fleet, did too, the transmission cut off.

It was just the Doctor and the Bad Wolf now.

"Sam, you've done it, now stop," said the Doctor. "Just let go!"

"How can I let go of this?" asked Sam. "I bring life!"

"But this is wrong!" cried the Doctor. "You can't control life and death!"

"But I can." Sam looked at the Doctor, more gold tears staining his face. "The sun and the moon…the day and the night." He blinked. "But why do they hurt?"

"The power's gonna kill you and it's my fault!" exclaimed the Doctor, looking down at the ground in shame.

"I can see everything," whispered Sam. "All that is. All that was. All that ever could be."

The Doctor's eyes widened, and he stood up. "That's what I see," he said. "All the time! And doesn't it just drive you mad?!"

"My head!" croaked Sam.

"Come here," said the Doctor, taking his hand for what must have been, oh, the umpteenth time since he'd met the fantastic man. By now, it was tradition.

"It's killing me!" exclaimed Sam in anguish.

The Doctor smiled. "I think you need a Doctor."

And with that, he leaned in and did what he'd wanted to do for longer than he'd admit to himself: he kissed Sam.

The time energy leaked out through Sam's eyes into the Doctor's own body. When he felt that all of it was extracted, he broke off (okay, he may have lingered a smidge), and the other man fell limply into his arms.

The Doctor gently lowered Sam to the ground and turned to face the TARDIS. Oh, his beautiful machine, that had brought his Sam back to him. He inhaled deeply, and breathed out all of the energy, back into the TARDIS, where it belonged. And the doors gently swung shut.

The Doctor wavered a bit as he felt the after effects of the energy leaving him. He felt slightly weakened. He smiled down at the unconscious Sam, still lying on the ground. He knelt and stroked his face, brushing back a few strands of that somewhat scruffy light brown hair.

Then, he picked him up, carried him inside the TARDIS, and took off for the comforts of the Vortex.

The Master stared in horror as the Doctor lost his grip on the side of the tower, and his singular Trakenite heart dropped as the Doctor did too. Right to his end.

He watched as the Doctor's arms flailed helplessly, and that stupid scarf flapping about in the wind. He could hear the Doctor's surprised cry as he plummeted down, down, down, and hit the ground with a resounding thud.

The Master choked and ducked back into the station, stumbling back to his TARDIS, and materializing out of there as fast as he could. Then, when he was safe in the Time Vortex, he slowly sat down on the floor of his console room.

He'd done it. He'd actually done it. The act he'd been trying to commit for centuries…was finally achieved. He'd killed the Doctor.

Of course, the Doctor wasn't really dead. Not truly. He'd had to have regenerated by now, and now, some new man and his three young sidekicks were heading off to the TARDIS, to get back to doing what the Doctor did best-running.

But still…he had killed the Doctor. After all the empty threats, the one hearted gestures and half-baked schemes, the Doctor finally met his peril, and the Master was to blame.

The Master, in this new body that was not his, only had one heart. But in his mind, he still had two. Two hearts that had shriveled up and died that fateful day. The day Theta left Koschei. The only instances he'd felt something stir inside those two, dark, dead stones was the day he'd remet the Doctor, on Earth, after nearly a whole regeneration cycle was spent trying to catch up to him, and when he'd really thought the Doctor was going to stay with him, during their battle with the Axons.

But this sensation was nothing like that. The Master felt as though his heart and its imaginary brother were seized by an invisible fist and being squeezed at regular intervals, each taking their turn. Not hard enough to kill him, but severe enough to give him cause to clutch at his chest, as if he was being physically attacked. His lungs were constricting too, and he couldn't catch his breath.

"You killed him!" he heard a child's voice call out. "You killed our Theta! Oh, how could you?!"

"There is no Theta!" he cried out to nothing. "Theta is dead, and so are you. There is only the Doctor and the Master now. Cosmic enemies. The friendship we once had is far forgotten!"

The child wept. "You're a monster!" he wailed.

The Master struggled to his feet, the tail of his suit flailing elegantly as he did so. "This is irrelevant," he growled, stomping off to his bedroom to meditate. "I've finally done what I set out to do so many eons ago-to kill the Doctor. I should be rejoicing!"

But he wasn't.

Sam, to his surprise, awoke in the TARDIS. He was lying on the floor, and he could tell that the ship was in the Vortex.

And there, at the console, right where he belonged, was the Doctor. Leather jacket, gigantic ears and all.

"What happened?" Sam asked as he sat up.

"Don't you remember?" asked the Doctor casually, not even bothering to look up from the monitor.

Sam was utterly confused. He was of course relieved to see the Doctor again, and in one piece, but the last thing he remembered, the TARDIS's console had been pulled open, and a bright light…and…

"It's like…there was this singing," said Sam.

"That's right," said the Doctor cheerfully. "I sang a song and the Daleks ran away."

"I was in London…no, I was in the TARDIS…there was this light…I can't remember anything else," said Sam, shaking his head.

The Doctor was studying something on his console with a dark expression. "Oi…you alright, mate?" Sam asked tentatively.

The Doctor turned to him and smiled ruefully. "Sam Tyler. I was going to take you to so many places. Barcelona. Not the city Barcelona, the planet Barcelona. You'd love it. Fantastic place. They've got dogs there with no noses." He cracked up. "Imagine how many times a day you end up telling that joke, and it's still funny!"

"Then why can't we go?" asked Sam, shrugging.

"Maybe you will," said the Doctor. "And maybe I will…but not like this."

"You sure you're okay? You're not making any sense, mate," said Sam, picking himself up from the floor.

"I might never make sense again!" exclaimed the Doctor. "I might have two heads, or no head!" He laughed again. "Imagine me with no head! And don't say that's an improvement." Then his expression turned serious. "But it's a bit dodgy, this process. You never know where you're going to end up."

Then, all of a sudden, the Doctor convulsed, and his skin flashed with light. "Doctor!" cried Sam, rushing toward him.

"Stay away!" shouted the Doctor, clutching his midsection.

Sam took a small step back, but remained within arm's reach. "Doctor, tell me what's going on," he whispered.

"I absorbed all the energy from the Time Vortex, and no one's meant to do that," he strained, while somehow keeping that cheeky grin on his face. He looked at Sam, blue eyes crinkled at the corners. "Every cell in my body's dying," he said.

"C-can't you do something?" stammered Sam.

"Yeah. I'm doing it now," said the Doctor. "Time Lords have this little trick. Sort of a way of cheating death. Except…it means I'm gonna change. And I'm not going to see you again. Not like this. Not with this daft old face." He managed to drudge up a weak laugh. "And before I go-"

"No!" said Sam.

"Sam. Before I go, I just wanted to tell you…you were fantastic. Absolutely fantastic!"

Sam tried to smile.

"And you know what?" the Doctor continued. He gave Sam one last sassy grin. "So was I."

And then, he did it.

Regeneration…a complete new life cycle…

The Doctor's hands, head, any part of his body not covered in clothing erupted in fiery columns of orange and gold light. Sam had to shield his eyes, and watched in amazement as he witnessed the whole of the Doctor's physique shift-his legs and arms stretched; he grew slightly shorter and became more narrow. Then, the light died, and the Doctor threw his head forward, a displaced expression on his face.

Only…it was not the Doctor's face. Because it was not the Doctor.

It was a different man. He was leaner than the Doctor. He had a thin face, a sharp nose, shaggy brown hair, and big brown eyes to match. His skin was a bit paler, and had a light crop of freckles dotting his nose and high cheekbones. His neck was considerably scrawny too, and he had a prominent Adam's apple. But like the Doctor, this man was nonetheless handsome. But it wasn't the Doctor. The leather jacket and black jumper may have been the same, but it was a different man entirely.

The new man took a moment to gather his wits, then looked at Sam. "Hello," he said with an Estuary accent. "Okay-ooh."

The man clamped his mouth shut and behind closed lips, ran his tongue over his teeth. "New teeth," he muttered. "That's weird."

"So, where was I?" continued the man. "Oh, that's right-Barcelona!"

He grinned manically at Sam, who could only stare in shock.

Chapter 21: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 1

Notes:

Chapter based on "Born Again" (webisode) by Russell T. Davies, original air date: November 18, 2005.
Contains scenes from Castrovalva by Christopher H. Bidmead, original air date: January 14, 1982.

Chapter Text

"Six PM," said the man, typing away at the keyboard on the console. He fiddled around with some of the controls. "Tuesday…October…5006…on the way to Barcelona!" The man stepped back from the controls and put his hands on his hips triumphantly.

Sam watched silently as this new person, this tall, skinny guy, mucked about in the Doctor's-his Doctor's-clothing, messing around with the controls of his Doctor's TARDIS.

"Now then," the new man said, turning to Sam. "What do I look like?...No, no, no-no-no-no-no…no! Don't tell me. Let's see…" He looked down, scrutinizing his own body. "Let's see…two legs, two arms, two hands…" He rotated his wrist slowly. "Slight weakness in the dorsal tubercle," he remarked. Then he reached up to his head and grabbed a handful of his own brown tresses. "Hair!" he exclaimed excitedly. "I'm not bald! Ooh, ooh, big hair," he said, scrunching it up into sort of a bedraggled faux-hawk. He gasped, inspecting the sides of his face. "Sideburns, I've got sideburns!" Then he grimaced slightly. "Ooh, really bad skin."

"Little bit thinner," said the man, patting his midsection. "That's weird. Give me time, I'll get used to it." Then his brown eyes widened and he looked up at Sam. "I have got…a mole. I can feel it…between my shoulder blades, there's a mole," he said, rolling his shoulders in a circle. He grinned and nodded slightly. "That's alright. Love the mole. Go on then, tell me…" He stood in front of Sam, modeling a little. "What do you think?"

When the Master saw the new Doctor for the first time, his hearts-heart-stood still a moment. His predecessor, the tall one with the brown curls and wild eyes, had been presentable enough, if only he weren't so cross. But this new incarnation was something to behold.

He was still tall, though as not tall as before. A more desirable height, closer to the Master's own. He was slim and sturdy, like an athlete (the Master wondered whether it were a happy accident that the Doctor choose an Earth cricketer's uniform as his new choice of wardrobe), and had broad shoulders. His hair was fairly straight, and blonde, and hung in chin-length golden curtains around his face. If it had been curly, the Master would have sworn he was looking at the Doctor as he had been in his first form…when he was just Theta Sigma.

But when the new Doctor turned around and looked him in the face for the first time, he knew it wasn't true. This form had more of a suntan than Theta, and his face was more ovular. The eyes were blue, but lighter and more icy that Theta's deep ocean azure. But still…this Doctor was…well. He was pretty, for want of a better word.

"Are you…you are…the Doctor?" Sam stammered slightly.

"Yeah. Of course I am," said the man, smiling confusedly.

"But…no, but…but you can't be him," said Sam.

"You saw me, I just changed, just like I told you I would," said the Doctor (or the man claiming to be him, at least). "Right in front of you."

"But…what did you-he-do? Where did…he…go?" asked Sam.

"Sam, it's me, I'm still here," said the Doctor. "I just look different, that's all. He was me, I am him."

"What did you do?" asked Sam. He felt like he was being very gullible, just taking this man at face value, but something was telling him to believe him.

"Drink," said the Master, finally speaking up, and this was when he saw this Doctor's face for the first time. "It's a simple, to promote healing sleep." He was lucky he was currently disguising his voice, for he was having trouble breathing.

The Master was masquerading as the Portreeve, an old man with a long white beard (facial hair always seemed to be part of his ensemble, no matter what name he took). He was wearing a long white robe, and was leaning on a walking stick. Even his voice was disguised. Though really, he probably needn't try so hard to conceal himself at this instant. The Doctor's regeneration had left him so confused, he couldn't even remember his own name.

The Doctor, unwary and complacent, not at all suspicious of his visitor's true identity, smiled brightly, blue eyes lighting up. The Master's stomach jumped. He had a very appealing smile. "You're the Portreeve," said the Doctor genially.

"Shh, past my bedtime," whispered the Master soothingly, keeping up appearances. "If they knew I was abroad, they would press me to this feast. For me, as for you, sir, sleep is sometimes better nourishment than good red meat. Please drink, sir."

The Master watched as the Doctor lifted the glass of valeriana to his rosy lips and drank, his Adam's apple gently bobbing. He licked his lips daintily with the tip of his pink tongue. The Master had to mentally pinch himself to keep from thinking completely obscene thoughts about that mouth. The Doctor winced slightly at the sharp concoction, then turned to the "Portreeve" and smiled again. Oh, that smile. "Yes, that is good," he said, showing bright white teeth.

"It's called regeneration," said the Doctor, putting his hands in the pockets of his predecessor's jacket, which now hung on him like a plastic bag. "It's a process we Time Lords go through due to our double hearts. Whenever we're in danger of dying, we can save ourselves. But it comes at a cost. Our cells literally burn up and heal at the same time. Our entire molecular structure rearranges. Every single, individual atom, every meticulous little electron-"

"Sorry, but shut up," said Sam, putting one hand up to silence the Doctor and one to rub his forehead. The drumbeat was acting up again.

"Sorry," said the Doctor. "Seems like I'm some what of a babbler this time around."

"I gotta be insane," said Sam, clenching his eyes shut and shaking his head. "But for some reason…I actually believe you."

"Sam, it's me, honestly, it's me," said the Doctor. "You're clever. I know you can figure it out."

"It's just…impossible…" said Sam, arguing with himself more with than the Doctor.

The Doctor smiled and stepped closer to Sam. "We've seen a lot of impossible things, Sam Tyler. Slitheen, Gelth, gas-mask zombies…is this really any less believable?"

Sam just shook his head. "I dunno, mate."

"Then how can I remember this?" The new Doctor cautiously took his hand. "Very first word I ever said to you. Trapped in that cellar…surrounded by shop window dummies, oh…such a long time ago…" He fixedly stared into Sam's eyes. "I took your hand…" -he gently squeezed it- "I said one word…just one word, I said…run."

"Excellent," said the Master, smiling too, so that the Doctor would continue to believe that he was under no threat. "Very soon," he said, "you'll find the Doctor."

"You overheard?" asked the Doctor, raising his eyebrows, and the Master found yet another feature that he had a strange fetish for. He was strangely stimulated by the motion of this Doctor's eyebrows. Was there nothing physically off-putting about this incarnation, the Master worried.

He remained composed. "I know these things," he answered enigmatically.

"Oh?" asked the Doctor, taking a seat on the bed innocently, without the remotest idea what the visualization of this blonde, attractive specimen sitting on the bed, so vulnerable, was doing to the Master right now, both physically and mentally. Oh, how the Master wanted to rip off this disguise right now, lunge at this tempting new Doctor, and-

"By the simplest of means," said the Master. "When you visit breakfast with me tomorrow, you will see the source of what my friends are pleased to call my great wisdom." The Master couldn't resist stepping close to the Doctor, who was looking up at him with baby blue eyes, completely trusting. "Now, sir, sleep."

"It…it really is you," said Sam slowly. "You're the Doctor."

The new Doctor grinned. It wasn't quite like the condescending smirk of his old self, but it was very nice. Warm, friendly, playful. Less burdened. "Hello," he said.

Sam suddenly realized that he and the Doctor were still holding hands, and he quickly let go.

The Doctor chuckled at this. "Same ol' Sam, eh? Same Sam, different Doctor, we just keep on running. And we never stopped, did we?" The Doctor danced over to the controls. "All across the universe! Running, running, running! And do you remember that one time we went to Hop? Do you remember hopping for our lives? Yeah? All that hopping?" He bounced on one foot to demonstrate. "Remember hopping for your life, yeah?" Then he stopped. "Oh, I am a babbler this time, aren't I, just can't seem to-"

"Shut up!"

"Yeah, that!"

"No, I meant…be quiet a moment, would you?" said Sam.

"Oh," said the Doctor, looking slightly deflated. "Sorry."

"Can you…I dunno…change back?" asked Sam.

"Do you want me too?"

"No," answered Sam, a little too quickly.

The Doctor smiled sneakily. "Oh. Handsome, am I?"

"No, I didn't say that," said Sam.

"You're blushing."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are tluuuuuugh!" The Doctor suddenly spluttered and slurred like a rabid dog.

"Doctor?" said Sam.

"Flaaaaaaugh!" The Doctor doubled over, looking like he was going to be sick.

"Oh my God, Doctor!" Sam rushed over and instinctually put his arms around the man.

The Doctor looked up. "Uh oh," he croaked, then exhaled a small cloud of gold vapor.

"Doctor, what's happening?!" cried Sam.

The Doctor looked up at him, almost drunkenly. "The change…going a bit wrong...FLUUUUUUGH! FLAK!" He doubled over again.

"Look, look, maybe we should…" Sam was panicking. How do you fix a broken Time Lord? "…I dunno…maybe we should go back to Satellite Five, find somebody, find Jack maybe-"

"Ah, he's busy! Got plenty to do, rebuilding the Earth! I gotta get you-get you home!" He woozily began hitting buttons and flipping switches.

Suddenly, the TARDIS shuddered and Sam was thrown to the ground. "What are you doing?" he exclaimed, pulling himself up, with some difficulty.

"Putting on a bit of speed!" said the Doctor, punching a few more buttons. "That's it!…Come on, my beautiful ship, come on! Faster, atta girl!"

"Doctor, I think that's fast enough!" Sam cried as the TARDIS trembled again.

"You wanna go a little faster?" The Doctor asked him excitedly. "Wanna break the time limit?!"

"Stop it!" yelled Sam.

"Oh, don't be so dull, let's have a bit of fun!" The Doctor punched the air with his fist. "Let's rip through that vortex!...Regeneration's going wrong," he gasped. "Regeneration sickness…" He clenched his eyes shut and keeled over again. "Oh, my head!"

Then he sprang back up, bi-polar as an icecap. "FASTER, let's open those engines all the way!"

Suddenly an alarm sounded. "What's that?" cried Sam.

"It means we're crash landing!" cheered the Doctor, laughing maniacally.

"Well, do something!" cried Sam.

"Too late!" exclaimed the Doctor gleefully. "We're out of control!" He jumped out of pure excitement.

"You're gonna kill us!"

"Hold on tight, here we go!" He grinned at Sam. "Home sweet home!"

Sam stared at the new (handsome) face of the Doctor. Who was this mad man?!

The Doctor obediently lay back. "Yes," he said, and the Master could hear the drowsiness in his voice. "It has been a long journey. Tell me, Portreeve, off the record…will I find the Doctor here?"

The Master, who didn't think he could stand being in this room for much longer, had started to head for the door. But he turned back, and stared at the Doctor, lying defenselessly on the bed, practically begging for…

"Oh yes, Doctor," he said, turning away again. "Very soon."

"Good," yawned the Doctor, rolling to face the opposite wall, and offering the Master a very good view of…Damn it, man, keep your mind on the plan! he scolded himself.

"Good night, Doctor," said the Master, in such a hurry to get out of there, he slipped up and called the man by his name.

"Good night," replied the Doctor, still unsuspicious of either the Master's evil intent or his frustrating stray fantasies about the Doctor's new persona, and almost immediately dozed off to sleep.

Chapter 22: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 2

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Christmas Invasion" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: December 25, 2005 (1/5).
Contains scenes from Castrovalva by Christopher H. Bidmead, original air date: January 14, 1982.

Chapter Text

After a very bumpy landing, the Doctor threw open the TARDIS doors and looked outside. "Here we are then! London! Earth! The solar system! We did it!"

"Whoa, I think you need to just slow down, mate," said Sam, grabbing him by the shoulders.

The Doctor clung to Sam as if trying to retain his balance. "No, no, no, no, hold on. Wait there. I've got something to say." He breathed heavily, wracking his regeneration-fried brain. "There was something I had to tell you, something important. What was it? No, hold on, hold on. Hold on, sh-sh-sh-sh…oh!" He yelled into Sam's face. "I know!"

He gave a few short reedy laughs. "Merry Christmas!"

Then he collapsed, right into Sam's arms.

Sam gave a long, weary, drawn out sigh.

Luckily, this new Doctor was light and slender, not quite as thick and muscley as he'd been before (Sam was still trying to wrap his head around the whole regeneration thingy), so Sam managed to pick the Doctor up, like a fireman might hoist a person trapped in a burning building, and carry him to his seldom-used bedroom. The only problem was, his limbs were so long that his feet dragged the ground, and they bounced and banged against the stair steps. Oh, well. The Doctor could just deal with bruised ankles.

Luckily the TARDIS, who seemed willing to work with Sam if it was in the Doctor's best interest, brought the Doctor's bedroom closer to the console room than it would normally be. "Thank you," muttered Sam to her as he pushed the door open.

The TARDIS offered a grudging "you're welcome" vibration. Bad Wolf or no, she still didn't like him.

Once they got to the bedroom, Sam was faced with the interesting and potentially uncomfortable issue of the Doctor's clothing. Surely the Doctor would rest more easily if he shed the leather jacket of his previous self and donned something more suitable for a victim of illness, like pajamas-in fact, there were some that the TARDIS had helpfully laid out right there, sitting on the Doctor's bedside table.

Sam swallowed. Alright, he told himself. There is nothing…sexual about this. He's sick. He's passed out. And even if he wasn't, there still wouldn't be anything sexual about this, because you are straight.

Sam sighed and set to work.

The jacket came off easily enough. The shirt underneath proved to be a little troublesome, but luckily it was baggy, due to the Doctor's new lankiness. He noted that the Doctor had even more freckles on his chest, which despite being slim, still had well defined pectorals and abdominal muscles. He was thin, this Doctor, but not unfit.

He untied the Doctor's shoes and pulled off his socks. He blushed slightly as he undid the Doctor's belt buckle, unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, and pulled them down to his ankles. Obviously, he left the man's underpants on. That would have really been gay.

He managed to ease the Doctor into the striped, cotton pajamas the TARDIS had provided and tucked the Doctor into bed. Unsure what to do now, Sam just shrugged, sat on the bed beside him, and turned on the TV. The TARDIS offered an inordinate amount of channels, but Sam opted for the local news. While watching, Sam discovered that outside the TARDIS, the date was December 24th. The Doctor hadn't just been deliriously babbling, it really was Christmas.

Sam was just catching up on real world events when the door of the bedroom opened suddenly. "Sam, I heard the TARDIS engines; did you find the Doctor? Is he o-"

Annie swung the door open and her eyes lighted upon Sam, sitting in bed next to another man. She surveyed the Doctor's clothes lying haphazardly all over the floor where Sam had left them.

"Oh my God," she groaned, pulling the door shut and quickly exiting.

"Annie, Annie, no!" exclaimed Sam, jumping up and running after her. He knew exactly what she was thinking.

"I like your Castrovalva, Portreeve. Very clever of them to have brought me here." said the Doctor delightfully over breakfast. His sound night of rest had revived him physically, though his mental capabilities were still hindered somewhat. If they weren't, the Master was sure he would have been recognized by now.

The Master smiled serenely beneath his snowy white beard. He had had to force himself not to stare avidly at the Doctor throughout the course of the meal, as the Doctor opened his pink lips to admit food, the bob of his Adam's apple when he swallowed. "I fear we must be a little dull, after the habitual excitements you describe," he said.

"Oh, the Ogrons and the Daleks and that," said the Doctor, waving his fork in a dainty manner. "No, no, I think it does us good to be reminded the universe isn't entirely peopled with nasty creatures out for themselves."

The Master coughed self-consciously.

At that moment, Shardovan and another villager entered, carrying numerous tombs. "The volumes you asked for, Portreeve."
"Ah, thank you Shardovan," said the Master, in his disguised decrepit old wise man voice. He waved his hand dismissively at the books lying at the end of the table. "I've finished with those."

The Master managed to get Shardovan to take the Doctor's meddlesome girls with him to the city library, and now, here he was again, alone with his Doctor, who had gotten up to inspect the tapestry hanging on the wall, concealing his Hadron Web, ironically encapsulating the man's very own boy companion, Adric.

The Doctor studied the dark green embroidered leaves and floral design with great appreciation. "Whoever did this certainly has a way with needle and thread," he remarked.

The Master smiled at this, thinking to himself that none of his greatest adversary's past identities would have had this sense of aestheticism. The most recent had not been one for stopping to smell the roses. He was too preoccupied with roaming the stars, flying off to the next adventure. This new Doctor, it seemed, was calmer, more stable. The kind of Time Lord one could settle down with, perhaps loom a few children…good grief, where had that come from?

The Master, shaking off those sudden domestic notions, raised his walking stick, which had a looking glass on the end of it, to his eye. "Remarkable, isn't it?"

The Doctor turned to look at the Master. "This device you mentioned..."

The Master was well aware of how close the other man was standing, the Doctor's arm pressed up against his side, as if they were old friends (well, they were, sort of). As the Doctor looked down at him, the Master could properly behold his new face. His skin was lightly dotted with freckles, if you looked close enough (which the Master certainly was not ), and his eyes were as blue and clear as water.

"It stands before you, Doctor," said the Master, averting his eyes from the Doctor's unintentionally magnetic gaze. "I've returned it to its state of yesterday, by way of demonstration."

They watched the Doctor's females follow Shardovan to the library via an image projected onto the tapestry, deriving from the Hadron Web behind it (not that the Doctor knew that). "Fascinating demonstration, Portreeve," said the Doctor. "How often do the pictures renew themselves?"

"Life here in the main is very slow and unremarkable," said the Master, lying through his teeth. "Life", as it were, on Castrovalva was merely a construct whipped up by the Master, aided by the considerably talented Alzarian. The city, its structure, even its citizens were his design. They could not even go to the lavatory unless the Master granted it. "Only an occasion, like your visit, disturbs the cycles enough to register on the tapestry."

"Some form of fast particle projection, I suppose," said the Doctor, still watching his companions on the tapestry. The Master tried not to feel jealous (Why wasn't the Doctor looking at him?).

"Our forebearers had many skills, now forgotten," said the Master dismissively.

"Indeed," agreed the other Time Lord, nodding and making his long golden hair swish about, evoking a warm feeling in the Master's blood.

"Oh, there's no doubt some complexity behind it, but in view of what you told me you had better avoid such things until you are restored," the Master said quickly, suspecting that if the Doctor was making academic reasonings, it would be no time at all before the man was back to his normal, chivalrous, self-righteous, universe-saving (all the traits he so despised and loved about him), Master-loathing self. The Master wanted to put that moment off as long as possible.

The tapestry showed an image from the previous day, of Tremas's daughter and the loud mouthed Australian struggling to carry the Doctor's Zero Cabinet to the citadel. "You know, I had no idea I was putting them to so much trouble," said the Doctor. "It's a very long way for three young people to carry me."

The Master's stomach did a flip flop. "Three, Doctor?" This was definitely a bad sign. If the Doctor recalled his boy companion, if he started asking questions…

"Yes," said the Doctor, nodding confusedly. He counted off on his fingers. "Er, Tegan…Nyssa and, er…Tegan."

The Master chuckled at this, despite his fear. It was…sweet, in a way.

The Doctor laughed at himself as well. His laugh was warm and rich, and like the rest of him, pure gold. "No, that's silly. Er, Nyssa, Tegan…and Nyssa. Nyssa…Tegan…you know, I'm sure there's someone missing…"

Sam managed to convince Annie that not only was the man in the bed the Doctor, but that he in no way had had sexual relations with him. "He's sick, Annie, I don't know with what, but he needs help."

"But how can he possibly be the Doctor?" Annie kept saying in disbelief.

Sam shrugged in equivalent bewilderment. "I dunno, he's a bloody alien. Who knows how his physiology works?"

"Well, what have you done to help him?"

"I told you, I just changed him into pajamas and put him to bed. Like I said, I don't know what the hell's wrong with him."

"Hold on," said Annie. "I need to go get something. Be right back."

Annie turned and left. Sam turned to watch the sleeping Doctor from the doorway. He looked so peaceful right now, but ragged too. Well, what could you expect, when every piece of DNA in your body had been ripped apart and put back together like Lego bricks?

Annie came back, a stethoscope in her hands. She handed it to Sam. "Here. I have to carry some medical equipment in my squad car just in case. Figured it might help."

"Thank you," said Sam, kissing the top of her head. He made his way over to the bed and sat down next to the Doctor.

"So…you saved him, then," said Annie.

"Yeah, suppose I did," said Sam, putting the ear pieces in.

"Suppose?"

"Well, see, the thing is, I can't really remember it all. I just-ah!" Sam suddenly gasped and ripped the ear pieces out of his ears, throwing the stethoscope across the bed. He clutched at his temples and clenched his eyes shut.

The sound of the Doctor's heartsbeats triggered an insurge of that all too familiar rhythm, that drumming. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four.

"Sammy, what is it?!" exclaimed Annie in alarm, rushing over to him.

Sam stared at the unconscious Doctor. "Those beats…they're the same as…"

"As what?"

Sam blinked a few times and shook his head. "Nothing. Just…got a bit of a headache, that's all. Been a long day for me, you know. Daleks, regeneration, the whole Time Vortex running through yourmy head, really takes it out of you. Haven't got any Tylenol, have you?"

"No. Sorry," said Annie. "Got some aspirin."

"Nah, no good," said Sam. "Allergic. It's fine. I'll be alright."

"Okay," said Annie, clearly unsure. She collected the stethoscope from the side of the bed. "I think I better do the listening."

"You're the boss," said Sam, guiding her hand to one side of the Doctor's chest, then the other. "Both of them working?"

"I think so," said Annie. "He has two hearts?"

"Yeah," said Sam.

Annie scrutinized the sleeping body before her and looked up at Sam curiously. "Anything else he's got two of?"

Sam gave her a look and said, "I'm sure I don't know. Come on. Let's let him rest."

"Oh, by the way, do you know who won Prime Minister?" asked Annie as they walked down the hall, back to the console room.

"Harriet Jones, I expect," said Sam.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"The Doctor told me. After we faced off against the Slitheen, the first time," replied Sam. "Said she led Britain's 'Golden Age'."

"Well, he was right," replied Annie. "Do you know she's provided better pay for the police department? I'm at least eighteen quid a week better off now. I keep telling people we've met her."

"Did more than that," laughed Sam. "Stopped World War Three with her. Saved the whole bloody planet with her. Ah, those were good times…" He shook his head. "Harriet Jones."

Sam had barely known the Doctor then. Had only been with him for about three days, relative time. He'd had his old face then.

"She's just launched this project, a space probe, about a week ago," said Annie. "They're calling it 'Guinevere One'. Lot of people are arguing it's a waste of money, but considering the problems we've had with outer space monsters before…" She shrugged. "And it's not like you and the Doctor are always around to fight them off."

"Yeah. But we got you," joked Sam, elbowing her. "Annie Cartwright, defender of the Earth. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"You're an idiot," laughed Annie, kissing him on the cheek. "Come on. It's Christmas Eve, you're home, I'm off duty, and I want hot chocolate."

"I, er…" Sam patted his pockets. "I think I'm short, love."

Annie rolled her eyes. "What sort of date are you? Come on then, tightwad. Cocoa on me."

"We've only got five billion years till the shops close," added Sam, putting on his coat.

She cocked her head at him. "What?"

"Er…nothing. Inside joke. Let's go."

Outside, the snow was falling and the cool wind was whipping about, but not unpleasantly. Sam loved Christmas in London. It was one of the most special things about the city. But this year, he couldn't focus. He kept casting looks over his shoulder at the TARDIS.

"What if he's dying?" Sam muttered to himself.

Annie sighed. "Sorry, I know, I know," Sam apologized. "It's just-"

"Just let it be Christmas," Annie interrupted. "Can you do that? Just for a bit. You and me and Christmas. No Doctor, no bog monsters, no life or death."

"Okay," said Sam.

Annie smiled a bit. "Promise?"

Sam took the hand not holding hot chocolate and kissed it. "Yes," he promised.

But his promise was about to be broken.

"Oh, Sammy, look, it's the Santa band!" exclaimed Annie, pointing to a small troop of people dressed up as Father Christmases, red cloaks and rubber masks, playing trumpets.

Sam studied them. "Er…did it just get really cold to you?"

"No, why?" asked Annie, giving him a quizzical look.

"It's nothing, it's just that…I think they're staring at us," said Sam nervously.

All of a sudden, the band stopped playing. One raised his bugle and blew. A bright column of flame spurted out of his horn.

The people in the square screamed and immediately began to run. "Oh my God!" cried Annie, clutching Sam's arm.

"Come on, this way!" bellowed Sam, pulling her back the way they came.

"Where are we going?!"

"The TARDIS! We'll be safe in there! The assembled hoards of Genghis Khan couldn't get through those doors!"

Annie looked over her shoulder. "Sammy, they're following us!"

Sam gasped. "No, that's not it. It's the Doctor! That's who they want!"

"But he's sick!"

"I know!"

Annie clicked her tongue. "I can't believe it. I can't even get a bloody cuppa with you without getting attacked! What are those Santa things, anyway?"

"Dunno," said Sam, as they reached the TARDIS. He dug in his pocket and pulled out the key. "But whatever they are, they're after the Doctor-and us. I'll protect the Doctor. You go home, get yourself safe-"

"Are you kidding?!" squawked Annie. "The last time you told me that, you disappeared for a whole year! I'm not letting you out of my sight, Sam Tyler."

Sam groaned. That's what he was afraid of.

"Sammy?" said Annie suddenly. "What's that noise?"

"What noise?" But even as he asked, he heard a loud whirring, like helicopter blades or a blender. Whatever it was, it was coming from behind them.

They slowly turned around.

There, spinning like a great Christmas-y ball of death, was a yuletide evergreen, whizzing around and around so fast, its branches could slice anything in two.

And it was coming straight for them.

Chapter 23: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 3

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Christmas Invasion" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: December 25, 2005 (2/5).

Chapter Text

The killer Christmas tree was looming closer and closer. Sam grabbed Annie's arm roughly. "Come on!" But Annie was frozen with terror.

Typical idiotic humans.

Shut up! Sam snapped back mentally. "Annie, come on, we've gotta go!"

"I'm going to get killed by a Christmas tree!" Annie wailed.

And then, the day was saved as behind them, the door of the TARDIS swung open and out popped the Doctor, sonic screwdriver in hand. He aimed it at the tree, and it promptly exploded, mere inches from their faces.

Annie, still staring at the tree with wide-eyed fear, was breathing hard, her chest heaving. Sam slowly turned around.

"Remote control," mused the Doctor, considering the smoldering remains of the tree. He slipped his screwdriver into the pocket of his dressing gown. "But who's controlling it?" he wondered aloud.

"You sod!" Sam tackled him in a fierce bear hug. "Bloody hell, I thought you were down for the count, mate!"

"Oomph!" The Doctor grunted under Sam's vicelike grip, but returned the hug. "Nice to see you too."

"Bloody brilliant to see you!" laughed Sam. "We were about to be shredded beef! Feeling any better?"

The Doctor patted the top of his head. "Oh, synapses still a bit…hmm. I need a word for that. Like 'wiggly waggly', oh no, that's not quite it-"

"What was that thing?" Annie exclaimed shrilly.

"Ah, hello, Anna!"

"I'm Annie!" she snapped.

"Right, sorry," said the Doctor sheepishly.

"Well, Doctor? What were they?" asked Sam. "You said something was controlling it?"

"Yeah, I did," said the Doctor. "And I'd be willing to guess that the ones controlling it are over there."

Sam and Annie followed the Doctor's gaze across the street, where the gang of Santa Clauses were lurking in a group, watching them.

"Oh no, them again," whimpered Annie, hiding behind Sam.

"Shh," he whispered.

The Doctor raised his sonic and pointed it at them. Even though they were all the way across the street, they seemed to cower away from the bright blue light and high-pitched frequency it omitted. Then, all of a sudden, the Santas glowed blue and disappeared.

"What did you do?" asked Sam, looking at the Doctor.

"Me? Nothing," said the Doctor, putting away his screwdriver. "Wherever they came from, they've just been called back."

"So that's the end of it, then?"

The Doctor looked up at the clear starry sky that blanketed over the empty London streets. "I wouldn't count on it. Those organisms were only pilot fish. Scouts, reconnaissance, a first wave. Precursors to a bigger threat. Ah!" The Doctor suddenly clutched at his head, as if he had a headache.

"Oh no, not again," fretted Sam, automatically supporting the Doctor as he slumped over.

"Woke up too soon," groaned the Doctor. "Still regenerating. I'm bursting with energy." With that, he exhaled another wisp of the strange golden smoke.

"What is that?!" gasped Annie, staring at the golden mist as it twisted and tangled in the cool night breeze and evaporated.

"Excess regeneration energy, it's why I changed," the Doctor explained quickly. "You see? The pilot fish could smell it a million miles away. So they eliminate the defense, that's you lot, and they carry me off. They could run their batteries on me for a couple of ow!" He winced as another wave of regeneration sickness panged through his head.

"Come on, Doctor," said Sam, escorting him back inside the TARDIS and back to his bedroom. "You need rest. If there's an alien attack on the way, we need you at max capacity. You're going back to bed."

"Argh!" cried the Doctor. "Brain collapsing!"

Then he fell over again.

Sam heaved a sigh. "Here we go again. Annie, get his feet, would you?"

"Sammy, he's getting worse," Annie fretted as she checked the Doctor over with the stethoscope. "He only has one heart beating now."

Sam stared at the sleeping man from the doorway of the bedroom sullenly. He was trying not to worry, to give up hope. This was the Doctor. He had to pull through. He couldn't just…just…

Annie gave him a sympathetic look. "It's okay. He'll be fine. I'm sure of it."

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," he muttered numbly.

Annie got up and patted him on the shoulder. "I'm going to go make some tea. Want some?"

"Sounds fine." He tried to smile at her.

Annie nodded and made for the kitchen, leaving Sam alone with the Doctor.

He ambled over to the bed and sat down on it beside him. The Doctor was breathing in and out, slowly, but evenly. Sam, without even thinking, took his hand and absently ran his fingers through the Doctor's new rich brown hair, which was hanging his face boyishly.

Sam stared at his peaceful face. "Please, Doctor," he whispered. "Please don't leave me."

He stayed like that until Annie came back about half an hour later, carrying two mugs of tea. "Thanks," said Sam, taking the mug but not drinking from it.

"No problem," she said, seating herself in the Doctor's armchair. "Merry Christmas, by the way."

Sam checked his watched. Four minutes past midnight. "Oh yeah. Merry Christmas."

"Oh look," said Annie, watching the muted TV, which Sam had forgotten to turn off earlier. "The photos from the Guinevere probe."

"Oh. Cool," said Sam, watching the screen with mild interest. When you've seen as much space as he had, a few grainy probe pictures were just sort of small time, he supposed.

"Funny sort of rocks," commented Annie, looking at an image the probe had sent from Mars.

Sam stood up, setting the mug of tea on the nightstand beside the Doctor, also watching the feed. "That's not rocks," he said slowly.

The "rock" was actually an ugly looking, red eyed alien beast, wearing a skull like mask. It was growling at the camera ominously.

"This image is being transmitted via mission control, coming live from the depths of space on Christmas morning," said the newscaster on TV cheerfully, apparently not grasping the seriousness of the situation. "The face of an alien life form was transmitted live tonight on BBC1. On the 25th of December, the human race has been shown absolute proof that alien life exists."

"Sam," whispered Annie softly, coming up behind him. "What is that?"

"I don't know," he replied, his eyes transfixed on the screen.

"Is it…is it what's coming? Is it what the Doctor said?"

"I don't know."

"But what's coming for?" asked Annie. "The Doctor?"

"I don't know," Sam said for the third time. He cast a look back at the unconscious man in the bed. "Maybe it's coming for all of us."

He looked back at the alien on the screen. "That's funny," he said.

"What?" asked Annie.

"I don't understand what they're saying," said Sam. "The TARDIS translates alien languages inside my head, all the time, wherever I am."

"So, why isn't it doing it now?"

"Dunno. Must be the Doctor. Like he's part of the circuit, and he's…he's broken." Sam swallowed hard.

"Despite claims of an alien hoax, it's been reported that NATO forces are on red alert," continued the newscaster. Then, he added, "Speaking strictly off the record, government sources are calling this our longest night."

"Something's not right," said Sam. "Those creatures are very, very wrong. Don't ask me how I know, I just do." He crossed the room and sat down in the armchair. He stared despondently at the dozing Time Lord. "The Doctor wouldn't do this. The old Doctor. The proper Doctor. He'd wake up. He'd save us."

Annie stared at Sam in concern. "You really love him, don't you?" she whispered.

Sam said nothing.

It was indeed the longest night.

Annie forced Sam to go to bed (with all the trouble with Satellite Five and the Daleks, and now this, it must have been days since he slept properly), telling him she'd stay up with the Doctor.

If he hadn't been so dead on his feet, he would never have been able to sleep. Not with the Doctor literally on his death bed in the next room. But finally, he succumbed to thankfully peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Hours later, he awoke to Annie fervently shaking his shoulder. "Sam! Sammy, it's a nightmare!"

"What time is it?" he yawned.

"Bout six thirty, oh, Sammy, the people outside, they're like zombies!"

"What?" asked Sam.

"Oh, just come on."

Annie tugged him out of bed and brought him back to the Doctor's room, where the news was still playing. The television showed footage of whole crowds of people standing the edges of roofs, almost like they were ready to jump.

"What are they doing?" asked Sam.

"No one knows!" fretted Annie. "According to the news, none of them are responsive at all. They're just like zombies! Oh, Sam, what do we do?"

"Nothing," said Sam darkly. He looked at the Doctor, who was still passed out in bed. "There's no one to save us. Not anymore."

All of a sudden, the scene on the television changed. San and Annie watched as a familiar woman sitting at a desk prepared to address the nation.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Prime Minister Harriet Jones. "If I may take a moment during this terrible time. It's hardly the Queen's speech. I'm afraid that's been cancelled." She looked off screen and said, "Did we ask about the royal family?...Oh. They're on the roof." She turned back to the camera. "But, ladies and gentlemen, this crisis is unique, and I'm afraid to say, it might get much worse. I would ask you all to remain calm. But I have one request.

"Doctor…if you're out there, we need you. I don't know what to do. If you can hear me, Doctor…if anyone knows the Doctor, if anyone can find him, the situation has never been more desperate. Help us. Please, Doctor. Help us." She turned her eyes to the sky and added, "God help us."

Chapter 24: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 4

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Christmas Invasion" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: December 25, 2005 (3/5).

Chapter Text

Sam angrily switched off the television and threw the remote control across the room.

"Sam!" exclaimed Annie.

"He's gone, Annie!" Sam yelled. "He's not waking up! There's some gigantic alien spacecraft out there that's somehow going to kill one third of the earth's population, and the only one who can save us is…is…"

"We don't know that," said Annie gently, touching his arm. "He might be fine-"

"He's not fine!" Sam shouted. "Look at him! His heart stopped working! How long before the other one goes out too?"

The Doctor…he's left me…

Sam sat on the edge of the bed by the unconscious man. He stared at his peaceful face for a long time.

What would the Doctor do?

"Alright," said Sam slowly. "The Doctor's left us. And right now, there's a big bunch of aliens that want to kill us all. We've got no weapons, no plan, and no Doctor. But we have the TARDIS, and we have each other."

"Annie…we're gonna save the world."

"Do you know how to fly this thing?" asked Annie. They were standing in the console room, Sam standing over the controls.

"Er, yeah…sort of," said Sam.

"Well you did it before."

"Yeah, but that was different. I get the feeling that if I try that again, I'll rip the universe in half or something. I think if we-"

But suddenly there came a loud bleeping, and the monitor showed an odd pattern. The TARDIS was slightly shaking.

"Sammy, what are you doing?" asked Annie.

"I haven't touched anything!" exclaimed Sam, frantically looking over the controls. "But according to the coordinates, we're not in the same place. It's like something's moving it from the outside!"

Then, the shaking stopped as soon as it started.

"Where have we gone?" asked Annie. She made for the door.

"Ann, wait!" But Sam's warning was cut off by a loud shriek.

"Oh no," he groaned, racing after her.

Sam managed to pull the door shut just before he found a very long spear being pointed at his face. "Ah…hello," he said nervously.

The alien beast growled at him. He gestured with his spear for Sam to join Annie, Harriet Jones, and a bloke in a suit.

"Sam, Sam, I've got you. My Lord," said Harriet Jones, hugging him tightly. "Oh, my precious thing." Then she gasped. "The Doctor! Is he with you?"

Sam swallowed. "No ma'am. We're on our own."

The alien growled again. The suit guy looked at a small apparatus in his hand. It must have been some sort of translator, because he read off of it, "The male in black. He has the clever blue box. Therefore, he speaks for your planet."

"But he can't," said Harriet Jones.

"Oh, yes I can," replied Sam.

"With all due respect-"

"With all due respect, Prime Minister, the Doctor is gone. He's left us, which makes me the owner of the TARDIS, chief expert on alien diplomacy, and representative of this planet. Now stand down, Harriet Jones!"

Harriet Jones looked shocked, and so was Sam. Had he really just said all that?

Harriet Jones took a step back, and Sam slowly turned around. "Right. Listen, you lot. I address the-what do they call themselves?"

"The Sycorax," whispered Suit Guy helpfully.

"Right, the Sycorax. Er, listen…in ordinance with, uh..." Sam remember what the Doctor (the old one) had said to the Nestene Consciousness "…Article Fifteen of the Shadow Proclamation. You have invaded this planet with mal intent, and threatened its people. You have one opportunity to vacate this planet peacefully, or the planet Earth will take drastic measures."

There was silence as the Sycorax looked at each other, then they all began laughing.

"You are very, very funny," read Suit Guy. "And now you're going to die."

"No!" cried Annie.

The Sycorax let out a low chuckle. "Did you think you were clever with your stolen words?" Suit guy read off. "We are the Sycorax. We stride the darkness. Next to us you are but a wailing child. If you are the best your planet can offer as a champion-"

"Then your world will be gutted," growled the Sycorax.

"Then your world will be gutted," repeated Suit Guy.

"And your people enslaved."

Suit Guy stopped reading. "Hold on, that's English."

"He's talking English," said Harriet Jones, astounded.

"You're speaking English," said Sam.

"I would never dirty my tongue with your primitive bile," hissed the Sycorax.

"That's English," said Sam. "Can you hear English?"

"Yeah, that's English," agreed Annie.

"Definitely English," said Suit Guy.

"I speak only Sycoraxic!" insisted the beast, looking more and more furious.

"If I can hear English, then it's being translated," said Sam. "Which means the TARDIS is working again. Which means…"

All their heads turned at the small creak of the TARDIS doors opening. There stood the tall skinny man, in stripy pajamas and a navy blue bathrobe.

He grinned. "Did you miss me?"

"Doctor!" Sam couldn't help running over and pulling the man into a tight embrace.

"Ooh, careful, careful," laughed the Doctor.

The Sycorax roared and cracked a whip hanging on his belt at the skinny man, but the Doctor almost nonchalantly grabbed it and wrenched for the beast's hand. "Oi! You could have someone's eye out with that."

"How dare!" roared the Sycorax indignantly.

Another one tried to sneak up on the Doctor with a large club, but the Doctor caught it and broke the stick over his leg. "You just can't get the staff. Now, you," he said, pointing at the Sycorax, "just wait. I'm busy. Amy, hello!"

Annie sighed. "Annie, Doctor."

"Right, sorry, one of these days I'll get that right, I promise. And Harriet Jones, MP for Flydale North. Blimey, it's like This Is Your Life! And I don't think we've met, who are you?"

"My name is Alex," said the suit guy.

"Well, lovely to meet you, Alex," said the Doctor, shaking his hand.

"Doctor, how'd you wake up?" asked Sam, amazed.

"Tea!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Someone left a mug of tea by my bed."

"That was me," said Annie.

"Well, thank you, Annie!" He said, picking her up and spinning her around. "'Cause that's all I needed, a good cup of tea! Superheated infusion of free radicals and tannin. Just the thing for healing the synapses." The Doctor put her down and turned to Sam. "Now, first thing's first. Be honest…how do I look?"

"Er…different," said Sam.

"Good different or bad different?"

"Just…different."

"Am I…" The Doctor's voice lowered to a dramatic whisper. "Ginger?"

"What? Ginger? No, just sort of…brown."

"Aw, I wanted to be ginger," whined the Doctor. "I've never been ginger. And you, Sam Tyler, fat lot of good you were. You gave up on me." He paused. "Oh, that's rude," he said. "That's the sort of man I am now, am I? Rude. Rude and not ginger."

"I'm sorry, who is this?" Harriet Jones asked Sam. "Did you call him 'Doctor'?"

"Yeah."

"But…what, there's two of them? Or is it a title that's just passed on?"

"I'm him," said the Doctor. "I'm literally him. Same man, new face. Well, new everything."

"But you can't be," said Harriet Jones.

The Doctor smiled. "Harriet Jones. We were trapped in Downing Street and the one thing that scared you wasn't the aliens, it wasn't the war…it was the thought of your mother being on her own."

Harriet Jones's eyes went wide. "Oh, my God."

"Did you win the election?" asked the Doctor, almost conversationally.

Harriet Jones swallowed and whispered hoarsely, "Landslide majority."

"If I might interrupt," hissed the Sycorax impatiently.

"Yes, sorry," said the Doctor. "Hello, big fellow."

"Who exactly are you?" inquired the alien.

"Well, that's the question," replied the Doctor.

"I demand to know who you are!" roared the beast.

"I don't know!" The Doctor roared back, mockingly. "See, there's the thing. I'm the Doctor, but beyond that, I just don't know. I literally do not know who I am. It's all untested. Am I funny? Am I sarcastic? Sexy?"

He winked at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

"Right old misery?" continued the Doctor. "Life and soul? Right handed? Left handed? A gambler? A fighter? A coward? A traitor? A liar? A nervous wreck? I mean, judging by the evidence, I've certainly got a gob."

He danced across the room to a control panel. "And how am I going to react when I see this, a great big threatening button? A great big threatening button which must not be pressed under any circumstances, am I right? Let me guess. It's some sort of control matrix, hmm? Hold on, what's feeding it?"

The Doctor opened up a compartment near the bottom. "And what've we got here? Blood?" He stuck a finger inside and sampled the thick red liquid. "Yeah, definitely blood. Human blood. A positive, with just a dash of iron. Ah, but that means blood control. Blood control! Oh, I haven't seen blood control for years. You're controlling all the A positives. Which leaves us with a great big stinking problem. Because I really don't know who I am. I don't know when to stop. So if I see a great big threatening button which should never, ever, ever be pressed, then I just want to do this."

He smashed his hand down on the button.

"NO!" The four humans exclaimed.

"You killed them!" cried Alex.

"What do you think, big fellow?" said the Doctor, consulting the Sycorax. "Are they dead?"

"We allow them to live," said the Sycorax.

"Allow? You've no choice," said the Doctor. "I mean, that's all blood control is. A cheap bit of voodoo. Scares the pants off you, but that's as far as it goes. It's like hypnosis. You can hypnotize someone to walk like a chicken or sing like Elvis. You can't hypnotize them to death. Survival instinct's too strong."

"Blood control was just one form of conquest. I can summon the armada and take this world by force."

"Well, yeah, you could, yeah, you could do that, of course you could," agreed the Doctor. "But why? Look at these people. These human beings. Consider their potential. From the day they arrive on the planet and blinking step into the sun, there is more to see than can ever be seen. More to do than-no, hold on. Sorry, that's The Lion King. But the point still stands. Leave them alone!"

"Or what?"

"Or…" In one swift move, the Doctor grabbed a sword from one of the Sycorax standing aside and brandished it. "…I challenge you."

The Sycorax began laughing again.

"Oh, that struck a chord," said the Doctor. "Am I right that the sanctified rules of combat still apply?"

"You stand as this world's champion," said the Sycorax.

"Thank you," said the Doctor. "I've no idea who I am, but you just summed me up." He shed his dressing gown and tossed it to Sam. "So, you accept my challenge? Or are you just a cranak pel casacree salvak?"

Sam had no idea what the Doctor called the thing, but it must have been something pretty offensive, because it roared in indignation and unsheathed its own sword.

"For the planet?" it said.

"For the planet."

Chapter 25: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 5

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Christmas Invasion" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: December 25, 2005 (4/5).
Contains scenes from The Sea Devils by Malcolm Hulke, original air date: February 26, 1972; and The King's Demons by Terence Dudley, original air date: March 15, 1983.

Chapter Text

Clang! Clash! Clack! Their swords crashed into each other wildly as they frantically fought.

"Watch out!" Annie cried as the Sycorax landed a blow at the Doctor's head.

The Doctor neatly sidestepped the attack. "Oh, yeah, that helps. Wouldn't have thought of that otherwise, thanks."

With a loud shout, the Doctor kicked the gun out of the Master's hand. With no hesitation, the Master grabbed up a fencing foil. The Doctor followed suit. "Like that, is it?" he said, easily deflecting the Master's strike and adding one of his own.

They fought and struggled. The Doctor backed up into a curtained doorway and disappeared. The Master fervently slashed at the fabric.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said the Doctor sneaking up behind him. "That's government property."

The Master lunged at his foe, pushing him back into his cell. The Doctor was pressed up against the table, their swords crossed between their faces. The Doctor pushed up, and somehow, knocked the Master's foil out of his hand. While holding the tip of his blade to the base of the Master's throat, he nonchalantly picked up the Master's sandwich from the table and took a bite of it. "I always find that violent exercise makes me hungry. Don't you agree?" he said.

"Then you'd better enjoy your meal, Doctor," glowered the Master. "Because it might be your last."

The Doctor looked almost amused by this. "Oh, you think so?"

He grinned slyly and tossed the Master's sword back to him, ready for more. They continued, the Master huffing, "You're good, Doctor, but you're not good enough!"

"Ah, but you haven't seen the quality of my footwork yet!" claimed the Doctor cheerfully, and with some fancy footwork, he managed to again disarm the Master, knock him over the table, and land him on the floor, where the Master stayed.

The Doctor looked down on him, holding both sabers, shaking his head and tsking at him. "How many times have I told you?" he gently admonished. "Violence will never get you anywhere."

As the Doctor turned, the Master slowly stood up, pulling his hidden knife out of his sleeve, and throwing it in the Doctor's direction. He missed by a mile of course, but then, he meant to.

The Doctor was skilled, but unfortunately, the Sycorax was better. The Doctor retreated up a tunnel leading to the outside. "Bit of fresh air?" said the Doctor. The Sycorax growled and had no choice but to follow him, as did Sam, Annie, Harriet Jones, Alex, and a few stray Sycoraxic soldiers.

They emerged in the early morning sunlight. Sam was suddenly very aware that they were all standing atop an alien spaceship, floating at least a mile over London. Sam had to force himself not to look over the edge. He wasn't much afraid of heights or anything, but if one did fall, well…it'd be a nasty drop.

The Sycorax had managed to shove the Doctor all the way over to the far edge of the ship. His sword sideswiped the Doctor's nose.

"Oi!" exclaimed Sam, making to come over there.

"Stay back!" yelled the Doctor. "Invalidate the challenge and he wins the planet!"

But the Doctor's momentary distraction allowed the Sycorax to knock the Doctor off his feet. Then, with one swift motion, the beast's blade sliced through the Doctor's arm, severing his right hand from the rest of his body.

"Doctor!" Sam cried in alarm.

The Doctor watched in silent surprise as his lost limb and sword fell to Earth. Then he looked at the Sycorax and said, slightly dazedly, "You cut my hand off."

"YAH! SYCORAX!" roared the battalion.

The Doctor painstakingly stood up, raising the stump of his arm. "And now I know what sort of man I am," he said. "I'm lucky. Because quite by chance I'm still within the first fifteen hours of my regeneration cycle, which means I've got just enough residual cellular energy to do this."

He grinned determinedly as, as if by magic, a new hand, identical to the previous one, regrew.

"Witchcraft," growled the Sycorax.

"Time Lord," the Doctor replied.

"Doctor!" cried Sam, tossing him another sword.

"Oh, so I'm still the Doctor, then?" said the Doctor, easily catching the blade and resuming his match with the monster.

"No arguments from me, mate!" Sam laughed.

"You want to know the best bit?" said the Doctor, smoothly avoiding a frontal blow to his face. "This new hand? It's a fightin' hand!"

They were preparing to throw Ranulf's cousin into the iron maiden (which was actually just the Master's TARDIS), but of course, the Doctor simply had to interfere, which was what the Master was counting on.

"Your Majesty," said the Doctor quickly.

"What, our demon? You too would beg for mercy?" inquired King John, or rather, the shape shifting robotic organism, Kamelion, another one of the Master's deceptions. The Master himself was masquerading as Sir Gilles Estram, a French knight and champion to the King. Estram-an anagram for 'Master'.

"Oh, indeed no, sire," replied the Doctor. "But surely such a fate is too mild. Would not boiling in oil be a more fitting end?"

"Ha!" exclaimed the false John. "It must be a decade, our champion, since we boiled in oil. We accept your counsel, O demon."

"I thank your Majesty, but I was not suggesting alternative retribution," said the Doctor coldly. "My interruption was provoked by shock."

"Shock?"

"Yes, I was quite shocked at Sir Gilles' monstrous lack of good taste," said the Doctor.

Ah, here was his chance. "Who dares to question my good taste?" said the Master.

"In my view, it is the worst possible taste to even think about following the King's quite remarkable performance," sneered the Doctor. "One just can't follow that."

"I am insulted!" The Master exclaimed. He took off his gauntlet and smacked the Doctor's chest with it. With resigned determination, the Doctor removed his camel coat and laid it out on the dining table. He borrowed a sword from Sir Ranulf and uttered some instructions to his companion, before arming and preparing himself for the match.

"Well, our Champion and our demon," said fake King John gleefully. "Have a care, Sir Gilles. Has our demon mortal life to lose?"

"I fear no hellhound," replied the Master.

"Then set to."

The two of them fenced valiantly, the Master giving powerful thrusts (isn't that just symbolic for something) while the Doctor gracefully parried and dodged. Their fight carried them up and down staircases, all over the dining hall, (the Doctor was even bent over the table at one point-the Master really enjoyed that) until finally, the Doctor got the upper hand and disarmed the Master.

"Bravo, our demon," cheered King John.

With a smirk, "Sir Gilles" whipped out his tissue compression eliminator. The Doctor's blue eyes flew open, immediately recognizing the instrument. The Master chuckled darkly at him as the TCE changed his outward appearance to his normal form.

"You escaped from Xeriphas," whispered the Doctor fearfully.

"Oh, my dear Doctor, you have been naive."

And with that, the Doctor disarmed the monster. He pointed the end of his sword at the Sycorax's face, as it lay on the ground, toward the edge of the roof. "I win," the Doctor calmly declared.

"Then kill me," seethed the beast.

"I'll spare your life if you'll take this Champion's command," said the Doctor. "Leave this planet, and never return. What do you say?"

The Sycorax grudgingly nodded. "Yes," it hissed.

"Swear on the blood of your species," the Doctor insisted.

"I swear."

"There we are, then," said the Doctor, letting up. "Thanks for that. Cheers, big fellow."

"Bravo!" cried Harriet Jones happily.

"That says it all. Bravo!" laughed Sam.

The Doctor chuckled. "Ah, not bad for a man in his jim-jams."

As the others shook the Doctor's (new) hand, congratulating him, Sam spied the Sycorax getting to his feet. He glared at the Doctor's back, and raised his sword.

"No!" yelled Sam, grabbing a rock from the ground and hurling it at the monster. It fell backward in surprise and toppled off the edge of the ship, just like the Doctor's hand, all the way to his death.

Sam turned to look at the Doctor. "Er…I'm sorry. I just-he was about to-"

"It's alright," said the Doctor, coming over and putting a hand on his shoulder. "You saved my life. Again. Thank you, Sam."

The Doctor looked over the edge where the beast had fallen.

"No second chances. I'm that sort of man."

The Doctor led them all back inside the ship. He stood in the middle of the arena, surveying all the troops. He opened his mouth and said to them all in a loud, commanding tone, "By the ancient rites of combat, I forbid you to scavenge here for the rest of time. And when go you back to the stars and tell others of this planet…when you tell them of its riches, its people, its potential…when you talk of the Earth…then make sure that you tell them this:

"It. Is. Defended."

On that note, the party and the TARDIS were teleported back to Earth.

Chapter 26: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 6

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Christmas Invasion" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: December 25, 2005 (5/5).
Contains scenes from Castrovalva by Christopher H. Bidmead, original air date: January 14, 1982.

Chapter Text

They materialized exactly where they had been before. "We're home! You did it, oh, you clever boys!" exclaimed Annie, pulling Sam, and then surprisingly, the Doctor, into a hug.

There was a great roar overhead as the spaceship began distancing itself from Earth. "Yeah! And-and don't come back!" Sam yelled after it, feeling a bit foolish.

Harriet Jones smiled warmly at the tall skinny man in his pajamas. "My Doctor."

"Prime Minister," said the Doctor, smiling equally warmly, and they hugged too.

"Absolutely the same man," Harriet Jones remarked. She turned a worried eye to the sky. "Are there many more out there?"

"Oh, not just Sycorax," said the Doctor, nodding. "Hundreds of species. Thousands of them. And the human race is drawing attention to itself. Every day you're sending out probes and messages and signals. This planet's so noisy. You're getting noticed more and more. You'd better get used to it."

"It's alright though," said Sam, coming up to his side. "Because they better remember-this planet's got us."

"The Doctor and Sam Tyler," said the Doctor, grinning. "I can't think of a better team."

"Batman and Robin?" suggested Sam. "Sherlock and Watson?"

"Nah," said the Doctor. "You and me."

Sam laughed. "Well, I'm your man, Doctor."

"That's what I'm afraid of," interrupted Annie, teasingly.

"Oi, you-!" But Sam's threat or denial was cut off by a loud noise. They watched in confusion as a large green beam was shot from somewhere in London at the sky. The laser collided with the Sycoraxic ship-and destroyed it.

"What…was that?" asked Annie slowly.

"That," answered the Doctor, whirling around to glare at Harriet Jones, "was murder."

"That was defense," replied Harriet Jones. "It's adapted from alien technology, a ship that fell to Earth ten years ago."

"But they were leaving."

"You said yourself, Doctor: they'd go back to the stars and tell others about the Earth. I'm sorry, Doctor, but you're not here all the time. You come and go. It happened today. People were murdered, right in front of me, while you were sleeping. In which case we have to defend ourselves."

"'Britain's Golden Age'," said the Doctor scornfully.

"It comes with a price," said Harriet Jones.

The Doctor swallowed angrily. "I gave them the wrong warning. I should've told them to run as fast as they can. Run and hide, because the monsters are coming. The human race."

"Those are the people I represent," said Harriet Jones. "I did it on their behalf."

"Then I should have stopped you."

"What does that make you, Doctor?" retorted the Prime Minister coldly. "Another alien threat?"

"Don't challenge me, Harriet Jones!" snarled the Doctor, raising his voice, and Sam suddenly saw shades of his old self-the Oncoming Storm. "Because I am a completely new man! I could bring down your government with a single word."

"You're the most remarkable man I've ever met," admitted Harriet Jones. "But I don't think you're quite capable of that."

The Doctor paused and considered that. "No, you're right. Not a single word. Just six."

"I don't think so."

"Six words."

"Stop it!" exclaimed Harriet Jones.

"Six," the Doctor said one more time.

Then he went over to Alex and whispered those deadly six words in his ear.

Then he calmly walked away, Sam and Annie in tow, Harriet Jones crying desperately after him.

"What did you say?" asked Sam.

"Like I said. Six words."

Sam decided that since the night before had been cut short what with flaming Santas, fainting Doctors, and killer trees, he owed Annie Christmas. So, they stuck around for the rest of the day. Well, Sam was around. The Doctor stayed cooped up in the TARDIS until late that night, when he came back out. He had changed out of the pinstripy pajamas and into an equally pinstripy brown suit, light blue undershirt, and darker blue tie adorned with embroidered brown flowers. He'd topped off the look with a pair of rice colored Converse and a long beige trenchcoat.

"Well?" said the Doctor, coming in from the cold and modeling his new outfit for the two of them. "Is it me?"

"Well, it's…stripy?" said Annie unsurely.

"What do you think?" the Doctor asked, turning to Sam.

Sam considered the ensemble. Brown did seem to be this Doctor's color, and the bits of blue set it off nicely. The long overcoat and vertical stripes made the tall skinny Doctor appear even more tall and skinny. Still, it looked good on him, nevertheless.

"I like it," Sam finally decided.

"Good, 'cause you're stuck with it either way," the Doctor grinned.

"Ooh, look, it's starting to snow!" cried Annie, looking out the window. She pulled on her jacket and headed out the door. "Come on, fellows!" she called to them.

The two men followed behind her and gazed up at the starry sky, which was delivering little white flakes. Several bright flashes darted part.

"What are those, meteors?" asked Sam.

"No, it's the spaceship breaking up in the atmosphere," said the Doctor. "This isn't snow, it's ash."

Sam's face fell slightly. "Yeesh. You sure know how to put a damper on Christmas."

The Doctor laughed. "Sorry. This is a brand new planet Earth. No denying the existence of aliens now. Everyone saw it. Everything's new."

"What about us? What are we doing next?"

"We?" repeated the Doctor surprisedly.

"Oh, well…yeah." Sam looked at his toes. "I mean…if you'll still have me."

"Oh, no, I'd love you to come," said the Doctor quickly.

Sam smiled. "Okay. Yeah. That'd be great."

"You're never going to stay, are you?" sighed Annie, overhearing their conversation. "Well, I reckon you're mad, the pair of you. It's like you go looking for trouble."

"No other way to live, love," said Sam, grinning.

"Trouble's just the bits in between," added the Doctor. "It's all waiting out there, Annie, and it's brand new to me. All those planets, and creatures and horizons. I haven't seen them yet! Not with these eyes. And it is gonna be," he turned to Sam and grinned, "fantastic."

Sam laughed and shook his head. "So, where are we going first?"

"Er, that way," said the Doctor, pointing to the sky. "No, hold on…that way."

"That way?" asked Sam, pointing in the same direction.

"Mm-hmm." The Doctor and Sam gazed up at the sky, and then grinned at each other.

The Master stared greedily at the Zero Cabinet laying on the table before him. "I have you in my power absolutely," he hissed with pleasure, "But I will see your face before I destroy you forever!"

As he frantically tried to pry the Cabinet open with a fire poker, Mergrave and Ruther slowly approached him. "Well?" demanded the Master. "Well, speak! I gave you tongues."

"You are not the Portreeve," stated Mergrave confusedly.

"Someone's been tampering with your perception threshold," said the Master.

"You are not the Portreeve," accused Ruther. "I believe the visitor." He pointed to the tapestry behind the Master.

The Master whirled around. The Doctor's new, charming face was watching him from the center of the tapestry.

"A trick! The Doctor's here!" insisted the Master, continuing to claw at the Cabinet.

"Are you sure of that, Master?" asked the Doctor, ever the voice of challenge and reason.

The Master smoldered. "Enough of your deceptions!"

The Master pushed the Cabinet off of the table and to the floor where it broke into pieces. But where the Master expected to see blonde and beige, helpless Doctor, he only found…books. Tons and tons of books. The very books he'd given the Doctor to read as the Portreeve.

The Master howled with rage. "Where are you? I'll fetch you out, wherever you are!"

"The tapestry, look!" cried Nyssa of Traken suddenly.

As the Doctor came rushing down the stairs into the room, the tapestry betrayed the Master and revealed the Doctor's boy companion, Adric, strung up in the his Hadron web.

As the Doctor began to approach, Tegan said warningly, "But Doctor, it's-"

"I know, I know," said the Doctor. "Stay back." He observed the web and said to the Master, "So that's how you're sustaining Castrovalva."

"My own adaptation of the block transfer computation," said the Master, not resisting the chance to show off. "Since we last met, Adric's mathematical powers have been put to lively use."

"Deadly, you mean," said the Doctor.

The Master smiled wickedly. "That, too. You were wise to deter your young friends from approaching. The Hadron power lines are lethal to the touch."

"All right, Master," said the Doctor slowly. "It's me you want."

(The Master mentally face-palmed at the Doctor's all-too-convenient choice of words.)

"Let the boy go," ordered the Doctor.

The Master laughed triumphantly. "Yes, a trap has now been sprung. We can begin to dispose of all the bait."

At that moment, Ruther picked up the Master's abandoned fire iron and raised it to strike the Master. The Master made him disappear. "There was no call for that," said the Doctor.

"I populated Castrovalva. I will dispose of these creatures as I choose," said the Master flippantly. "Well, Doctor?"

Suddenly, they all caught sight of Shardovan standing in the rafters, preparing to swing down on the chandelier. "Shardovan, get back!" cried the Doctor.

"Don't touch the web!" ordered the Master. "It's holding Castrovalva in balance. You do not have the will!"

"You made us, man of evil," declared Shardovan. "But we are free."

"My web!" cried the Master in desperation as Shardovan swung across the room, into his intricate apparatus and freed the boy. "My web!"

As the Doctor leapt into the wall to rescue Adric, the Master rushed into the grate of the great fireplace standing against the wall, which was actually his TARDIS in disguise. He quickly set the coordinates and got himself out of the collapsing world. As he stood at the controls, he fumed, furious that once again, he'd been thwarted. Then, gradually, an amused smiled formed beneath his whiskers, and he began to chuckle to himself.

His arch enemy was back.

On Christmas Day, at approximately 7:45 in the morning, in the tiny headset in his ear, the Minister of Defense heard the six words that would put him into power.

"Don't you think she looks tired?"

The Minister of Defense smiled wickedly.

"Thank you, Doctor."

Chapter 27: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 7

Notes:

Chapter based on "New Earth" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: April 15, 2006.
Contains scenes from Survival by Rona Munro, original air date: November 22, 1989.

Chapter Text

There were several things the Doctor was sure of. One: the square root of pi was approximately 1.77245385090552. Two: the Mondola people of Jaxaris 8 were highly allergic to Earth beets. Three: Beethoven had totally ripped off "Ode To Joy" after overhearing the Doctor absentmindedly humming it under his breath.

And four…Sam Tyler was kissing him.

"So where are we going?" Sam had asked as the Doctor and he had taken off in the TARDIS.

The Doctor grinned. "Further than we've ever gone before."

The TARDIS had materialized on a pleasant little patch of grass with a good view of a futuristic city. "It's the year five billion and twenty three," said the Doctor as Sam stared in amazement at the utopia before them. "We're in the galaxy M-87, and this?" He gestured to the scenery around them. "This is New Earth."

Sam was at a loss for words. That was good, that the Doctor could still amaze him. He liked that. He liked Sam's eagerness for exploration, which was only matched by his own. It was good to know someone like that again. "I'll never get used to this," said Sam, grinning like an idiot and not caring one little bit. "Never. Different ground beneath my feet!" He thumped his foot against the earth demonstratively. "Different sky…what's that smell?"

The Doctor bent down and plucked up a blade of the grass they were standing on and sampled it. "Applegrass," he said, offering some to Sam, who tried it too.

Sam laughed and put his hands in his pockets. "Man, this is great. Traveling, I mean. And the TARDIS. And…and you. Traveling with you…I love it."

Sam looked down at the ground bashfully as the Doctor smiled at him. "Me too," he said. He grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him along to the city. "Come on!"

Laughing, the two men raced each other to the city. "You cheat!" panted Sam, flopping down on the applegrass. "You've got respiratory bypass!"

"Time Lord's advantage," said the Doctor smugly, taking off his long trenchcoat and lying down beside him.

"Unfair advantage, you mean," pouted Sam, but he was smiling.

The Doctor laughed. "Have it your way then, sore loser. So, the year five billion, the sun expands, the Earth gets roasted."

"That was our first trip together," Sam reminded him.

"We had chips," the Doctor said.

"And fought a crazy flesh lady, don't forget that," Sam added.

"Yeah. So, anyway, planet gone, all rocks and dust, but the human race lives on, spread out across the stars. Soon as the Earth burns up, oh, they get all nostalgic, big revival movement. Then they find this place. Same size as the Earth, same air, same orbit, lovely! Call goes out, the humans move in."

"What's the city called?" Sam asked.

"New New York."

"Oh, come off it."

"It is!" insisted the Doctor. "It's the city of New New York! Strictly speaking, it's the 15th New York since the original, so that makes it New New New New New New New New New New New New New New York."

Sam laughed and shook his head.

"What?" asked the Doctor.

"You. You're so…different."

He smiled. "New New Doctor."

"But still the same, somehow. Like, getting a new case for an old phone. Same phone still. But anyway, can we go and visit New New York, so good they named it twice?" asked Sam, standing up.

"Well, I thought we might go there first." The Doctor pointed out a large white trapezoidal building parked on the other bank of the charming river they were sitting beside.

"Why? What is it?" asked Sam.

"Some sort of hospital," replied the Doctor. "Green moon on the side. That's the universal symbol for hospitals. I got this…" He pulled his ratty leather wallet out of the deep pockets of his coat and flipped it open. "A message on the psychic paper. Someone wants to see me."

The paper flashed, "Ward 26-please come."

"Hmm," said Sam. "And here I thought we were just sight seeing. Come on then."

The two men headed down the hill, laughing and joking. "So, you've never been here before?" Sam asked.

"Not to the hospital," replied the Doctor. "Don't much care for hospitals. Make me squeamish."

Sam snorted at this. "Bit rich, coming from you. 'Doctor' indeed."

"I can't help," whined the Doctor. "They give me the creeps."

"Very smart," said Sam as they walked through the doors. The hospital was clean, white, and futuristic. "Not exactly NHS," he added as an afterthought.

"No shop," commented the Doctor, looking around. "I like the little shop."

"So I thought this far in the future, they'd have cured everything," said Sam.

"The human race moves on, but so do the viruses. It's an ongoing war," the Doctor replied, making a beeline for the lift.

Sam followed, but caught sight of a passing nurse. "Er, Doctor? The nurses…they're, um…cats."

"Good hunting, Doctor?"

The Doctor whirled around. His enemy had snuck up on him. As usual, he was standing too close for comfort, and was leering (down, unfortunately) at him.

There came a sound of great disruption over the hills in the distance. "They're fighting again in the dead valley," commented the Master.

The Doctor felt the ground under his feet wobble. "It's breaking up," he said nervously.

"This planet's alive. The animals are part of the planet. When they fight each other, they trigger explosions," his enemy explained. "They hasten the planet's destruction."

"How long before it blows up?"

"Not long," answered the Master. "They've been fighting a long time."

The Doctor peered at him suspiciously. "Why did you bring me here?"

The Master looked unsettled (for the first time in a long time). "I need your help," he admitted.

"You're trapped," the Doctor realized. "You can't escape."

"Just so. It seems the creatures of this world can't take us away from here, they can only bring us to this place."

"Yes," said the Doctor, putting a finger to his lip. "They can only return home with their prey."

"I never thought of it quite that way," said the Master, looking somewhat impressed.

"But now that we're both trapped, what good is it to you?" the Doctor asked.

"You'll find a way out, Doctor. You must."

The Doctor narrowed his eyes at the other Time Lord. "Why should I help you?

The Master smiled craftily. "It's not just death we're all facing. This place bewitches you. If we stay here, we'll be like the people who built these." He wandered over to the stone ruins they were standing near. "They thought they could control the planet, the wilderness. They were the ones that bred the kitlings. Creatures with minds they could talk to, eyes they could see through the way I do. It only led to their corruption. We shall become like them."

The Master turned around to face the Doctor, who was shocked and a bit afraid. The Master's eyes had changed from stony grey to a sickly mustard yellow.

The Master grinned at the Doctor, demonstrating sharp canines. "We shall become animals," he purred.

In the distance, a kitling howled, then the other Cheetah people, and finally, the Master joined in as well, throwing his head back and letting out a great wail, just allowing the Doctor to slip away.

"Now, don't stare," ordered the Doctor gently. "Think what you look like to them, all…"

He gave Sam the once-over.

"…pink and brown and black," he finished. "That's where I'd put the shop! Right there!" He pointed to somewhere over Sam's shoulder, then turned and entered the lift. "Ward 26, please!"

"Oi, wait up, mate!" exclaimed Sam, dashing after him, but the lift doors shut in his face. "Oh, that's alright, there's another." Sam went into the other elevator, and the next time the Doctor saw him, he nearly had his face snogged off.

"Legend says that the Face of Boe has watched the universe grow old," Novice Hame told him. "There's all sorts of superstitions around him. One story says that just before his death, the Face of Boe will impart his great secret, that he will speak those words only to one like himself."

The Doctor smiled. "What does that mean?"

The feline nurse shook her head. "It's just a story."

"Tell me the rest."

Novice Hame cast a long look at the gigantic head in the jar. "It's said he'll talk to a wanderer. To the man without a home. The lonely god."

The Doctor's expression fell, and he turned away. He could guess who that "lonely god" was.

How the hell did the Face of Boe know him so well, away? They'd only met once, briefly, on Platform One.

The Doctor turned back. "Say, do you have a phone?"

"Sam, where are you?"

"Er…wotcha?" said Sam slowly over the phone.

The Doctor thought to himself that Sam sounded a little funny. But he ignored it. "Where've you been? How long does it take to get to Ward 26?" he asked.

"I'm on my way…govnah," he said.

Well, that was strange. Sam usually called him "mate". Whatever.

"You'll never guess," said the Doctor, grinning. "I'm with the Face of Boe. Remember him?"

Sam chuckled nervously. "Of course I do. That big ol'…Boe face."

Suddenly the Doctor heard excited chatter coming from the gurney of the Duke of Manhattan. "Er…I'd better go. See you in a minute."

He hung up and made his way over to a very hearty, happy, and healed looking Duke. "Didn't think I was going to make it!" cried the Duke jovially. He caught sight of the Doctor and pointed excitedly. "It's that man again! He's my good luck charm. Come in, don't be shy!"

"Any friendship expressed by the Duke of Manhattan does not constitute a form of legal contract," whispered the Duke's right hand bureaucrat to him.

"Winch me up. Up!" ordered the Duke. He beamed at the Doctor. "Look at me. No sign of infection!"

"Er…you had petrifold regression, right?" the Doctor said slowly, scrutinizing the Duke's healthy pallor.

"'Had' being the operative word. Past tense. Completely cured!"

"But that's impossible…"

Once Sam rejoined him, he frantically expressed to him all the amazing happenings in the hospital. "I need to find a terminal. I've got to see how they do this," said the Doctor, leading Sam down a corridor. "Because if they've got the best medicine in the world, then why is it such a secret?"

"I can't Adam and Eve it," answered Sam stiffly.

"What's-what's with the voice?" the Doctor asked confusedly.

Sam shrugged, in a very un-Samlike way. "Oh, I don't know. Just larking about New Earth. New me."

The Doctor chuckled. "Well, I can talk. New new Doctor."

Sam looked him over, very slowly, and the Doctor felt the sudden need to blush. Sam was practically undressing him with his eyes! "Mmm, aren't you just," Sam purred. Suddenly, he grabbed the Doctor, pulled him down, and pressed his lips up against his.

The Doctor froze, unsure what to do. Sam. Was. Kissing him!

Sam released the Doctor, looking very satisfied with himself. He let out an excited breath of air and vaguely pointed up the corridor. "T-terminal's this way."

Then he sauntered away, leaving the poor Doctor feeling very lost.

The Doctor of course thought this was strange behavior, but was too distracted by the mysterious problem at hand. It wasn't until they actually accessed intensive care, and found the infected people, that the Doctor realized something was wrong. Because Sam was all too apathetic about the whole thing.

"What have you done to Sam?" he demanded of Novice Hame.

"I don't know what you mean," said the cat.

"And I'm being very, very calm," said the Doctor through gritted teeth. "You want to be aware of that. Very, very calm. And the only reason I'm being so very, very calm is that the brain is a delicate thing. Whatever you've done to Sam's head, I want it reversed."

"We haven't done anything," insisted Novice Hame.

"I'm perfectly fine," drawled Sam.

"These people are dying, and Sam would care," said the Doctor. And plus, Sam doesn't kiss men.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh, all right, clever clogs." He pulled the Doctor's tie out and played with it. "Smarty pants." He drew up the knot, tightening it around the Doctor's neck non-threateningly. "Lady-killer," he hissed seductively.

"'Lady-killer?'" repeated the Doctor, bewildered. "What are you talking about? What's happened to you?"

"I knew something was going on in this hospital, but I needed this body and your mind to find it out," explained Sam (or whoever he was).

"Who are you?" demanded the Doctor.

Sam leaned in and breathed in his ear, "the last human."

The last human? The Doctor remembered back to another entity he'd encountered on Platform One, one who'd claimed that title. "Cassandra?!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"Wake up and smell the perfume." Cassandra took a vial out of the pocket of Sam's hoodie and spritzed its contents in the Doctor's face. And that was the last thing the Doctor remembered before everything went black.

The Doctor woke up inside one of the storage containments that kept the flesh locked in. He watched as Cassandra in Sam's body tried to blackmail the Sisters, but one thing led to another, and of course, all the flesh ended up escaping.

The Doctor and Cassandra were forced to run. They managed to make it down to Cassandra's holding area, the place where she'd been dwelling. "We're trapped!" cried Cassandra desperately. "What am I going to do?!"

"Well, for starters," said the Doctor, "you're going to leave that body. That psycho-graft is banned on every civilized planet. You're compressing Sam to death!"

"But I've got nowhere to go," pouted Cassandra. "My original skin's dead."

"Not my problem," said the Doctor callously. "You can float as atoms in the air. Now, get out!" He whipped out his sonic screwdriver and pointed it at her. "Give him back to me."

Cassandra smiled wickedly. "You asked for it."

Cassandra opened Sam's mouth and exhaled pink energy, which the Doctor was forced to absorb.

"Blimey, my head!" exclaimed Sam as Cassandra possessed the Time Lord body. "Where'd she go?"

"Oh, my…" said the Doctor, smiling silkily. "This is different."

"Cassandra?" said Sam.

"Now this is a real man," said Cassandra, feeling up the Doctor's chest and abdomen. "Yum. So many parts. And hardly used. Oh, oh, two hearts! Oh, baby, I'm beating out a samba!" Cassandra made the Doctor dance around a bit in a jerky series of movements.

"Get out of him!" Sam exclaimed.

"Ooh, he's slim," commented Cassandra. "And a little bit foxy." She waggled her stolen eyebrows at Sam. "You've thought so too. I've been inside your jumbled up head. You've been looking. You like it."

"Do not!" shouted Sam. "For the love of God, I am not gay!"

At that moment, the diseased people burst in. Help us. Help us.

"What do we do? What would he do? The Doctor, what the hell would he do?" Cassandra squealed.

Sam and Cassandra dashed up a ladder, the infected not far behind. "If you get out of the Doctor's body, he can think of something!" Sam yelled.

"Yap, yap, yap. God, it was messed up inside your head. All those weird visions and what not-"

"We're going to die! Now is not the time to psychoanalyze me!" Sam exclaimed.

The infected were right behind them. They'd climbed to the top and reached the lift door, but it wouldn't open. "Use the sonic screwdriver!" Sam shouted.

"You mean this thing?" Cassandra pulled the screwdriver out of the Doctor's pocket.

"Yes, I mean that thing!"

"Well, I don't know how. That Doctor's hidden away all his thoughts," whined Cassandra.

Sam groaned in frustration. "Cassandra, go back into me. The Doctor can open it. Do it!"

Cassandra sighed. "Hold on tight." She transferred her energy again.

"Oh, great. Mental again," groaned Cassandra out of Sam's mouth. "Open it!"

"Not till you get out of him," said the Doctor.

"We need the Doctor!"

"I order you to leave him!"

Cassandra swapped back again. "No matter how difficult the situation, there is no need to shout," she huffed.

"Cassandra, get out of him!" exclaimed Sam.

"But I can't go into you, he simply refuses, he's so rude."

"I don't care, just do something!"

Cassandra grimaced. "Oh, I am so going to regret this."

Cassandra transferred her pink energy to one of the infected below. "Oh, sweet Lord. I look disgusting," gasped Cassandra, aghast as she stared at her current skin.

The Doctor opened the lift doors, jumped through, and helped Sam through them. "Nice to have you back," said the Doctor.

"You too, mate."

"Oh no, you don't!" Cassandra exhaled one more time and reentered Sam just before the lift doors re-closed.

"That was your last warning, Cassandra!" yelled the Doctor angrily.

But Cassandra was sitting on the floor, in Sam's body, wide eyed. "Inside her head," she said shakily. "They're so alone. They keep reaching out, just to hold us. All their lives and they've never been touched."

The Doctor silently reached down and offered a hand to Cassandra. She took it and got to her feet.

Back in Ward 26, the Doctor devised a plan. He collected all the cures and medications and strapped them to his chest like some sort of nerdy Rambo. Then he dived back into the lift, clinging onto the elevator cable. "What do you think you're doing?" squawked Cassandra.

"I'm going down! Come on!"

Cassandra scoffed. "Not in a million years."

"I need another pair of hands," persuaded the Doctor. "What do you think? If you're so desperate to stay alive…" He grinned manically. "…why don't you live a little?"

Suddenly, a hoard of the infected burst in. Cassandra groaned and jumped in, straddling the Doctor's back.

"You're completely mad!" Cassandra exclaimed, then she giggled. "I can see why he likes you."

"Going down!"

"Good hunting?" Now it was the Doctor's turn to sneak up on the Master. The cheetah virus really must have addled his mind, for the rival Time Lord was attempting to lock pick his way into the Doctor's TARDIS.

"Yes," said the Master, observing that the Doctor was indeed alive and well. "It would have been too easy. It seems we must always meet again."

"They do say opposites attract."

The Master smirked. "But this is the end, Doctor. You see it." He was circling around the Doctor, slowly, menacingly. "It's a power. A power from that planet. It's growing within me. Are you frightened yet?"

"No," said the Doctor.

"You should be," grinned the Master, showing off those fantastic fangs. "You should be. It nearly beat me. Such a simple, brutal power. Just the power of tooth and claw. It nearly destroyed me, a Time Lord. But I won. I control that force, Doctor. And now, at last, I have the power to destroy you."

The Master lunged at the Doctor, clutching him by the throat, and the Doctor was knocked onto his back, the Master on top of him. They had teleported back to the dying cheetah planet.

"Welcome to my new home, Doctor!" cried the Master.

The long time enemies struggled with each other. The Master had the upper hand for a moment, but by now the virus was taking hold of his immune system, and he was weak. The Doctor managed to roll over, gain dominance, and overtake the Master. He picked up a skull lying nearby and prepared to bring it down upon the Master's head, finally killing him and ending a centuries-long dispute. His pulses were beating in his ears, the hunt pulsing through his veins, he could smell the blood on the wind-

Then he stopped. He looked down. There was the Master, Koschei, once his friend, once his…what was he doing?!

"What am I doing?" the Doctor asked himself aloud, tossing the skull aside. "I've got to stop. We've got to go!"

"You can't go," declared the Master underneath him. "Not this time."

"Yes, we can!" pleaded the Doctor.

"Escape to what? I don't choose to live as an animal!"

"If we fight, we'll destroy this planet," said the Doctor, gesturing to the environment around them, which was rapidly deteriorating. "We'll destroy ourselves!"

The Master apparently found strength, because he managed to knock the Doctor off of him. He wrapped his hand around the Doctor's neck, threatening to crush his wind pipe. "You should have killed me, Doctor."

The Doctor threw his hands up in one last attempt to make the Master see reason. "If we fight like animals, we'll die like animals!"

Then there was another flash, and the Doctor looked around him. He was back in Perivale. But no Master.

In the end, the Doctor managed to heal all the infected. "It's a new sub-species, Cassandra!" cried the Doctor joyously. "A brand new form of life. New humans! Look at them. Look! Grown by cats, kept in the dark, fed by tubes, but completely, completely alive! You can't deny them, because you helped create them. The human race just keeps on going, keeps on changing. Life will out! Ha!"

So, the infected were healed, and the Sisters were arrested by the NNYPD. Novice Hame gave the Doctor a long, sad look as she was escorted out.

Which reminded the Doctor: "The Face of Boe!"

He was the last left in the hospital. "You were supposed to be dying," said the Doctor, crouching before him.

"There are better things to do today," said the great creature, transmitting telepathically into their minds. "Dying can wait."

Cassandra muttered something under her breath about how she hated telepathy, but the Doctor shushed her. "I have grown tired of the universe, Doctor, but you have taught me to look at it anew," continued the Face.

"There are legends, you know," said the Doctor, "saying that you're millions of years old."

"Well now, that would be impossible." Was it the Doctor's imagination, or was there something sly in the Face's tone?

"Wouldn't it just," replied the Doctor, smiling. "I got the impression there was something you wanted to tell me."

"A great secret."

"So the legend says," said the Doctor.

The Face took on a casual tone. "It can wait."

"Oh, does it have to?" pouted the Doctor.

"We shall meet again, Doctor, for the third time, for the last time, and the truth shall be told. Until that day..."

And with that, the Face beamed away.

"That is enigmatic," the Doctor said to Cassandra. "That, that is, that is textbook enigmatic."

Then they got Cassandra all sorted out. "It hardly seems fair, does it?" said Sam as they went back inside the TARDIS. "I mean, she just…died."

"Everyone dies eventually," said the Doctor gently as he sent them into the Vortex.

"Yeah, but…not you," said Sam.

The Doctor chuckled softly. "No. Even I'll die, someday."

"Don't you dare," teased Sam.

"Okay, I won't then." The Doctor smiled. "So, where to next?"

"Well, actually, Doctor, I was hoping you could fill me in on what exactly happened today. I don't remember anything of when Cassandra was in my body."

"Oh, not much," said the Doctor, shrugging. "Just healed a legion of people, defeated some cat people, talked to the Face of Boe. You know, everyday life on the TARDIS."

"Oh, come on. There was something," persisted Sam.

"No, no, nothing," said the Doctor, beginning to walk out of the console room. Then he stopped. "Well…I tell you one thing. That Lady Cassandra…" He turned around and smirked devilishly at Sam. "She's surprisingly one hell of a kisser."

Then the Doctor waltzed out of the room.

"Wait. She kissed you? When? How?...Wait." Sam slowly felt his lips. "Doctor…what happened today?!"

Chapter 28: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 8

Notes:

Chapter based on "Tooth And Claw" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: April 22, 2006.
Sam's period outfit comes from "Life On Mars".

Chapter Text

Sam came down the stairs in casual jeans, a cream colored button up with pastel pink stripes and the collar popped over a black leather jacket. "So, this alright?"

"Oh, yeah, you look great!" said the Doctor cheerfully. "Hey, is that my jacket?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, suppose it is," said Sam. Without really thinking about it, he sniffed the interior of the jacket. It smelled like…well, it smelled leather, to be honest. But also like the Doctor. Earthy, slightly sweet (honey, maybe?), and something not quite human.

"Well, it looks good," admitted the Doctor. "Could be a look for you."

"Maybe," said Sam, shrugging. "In any event, it's better fitting than my old hoodie for 1979."

The Doctor grinned as the two men headed for the door. "1979. Hell of a year. China invades Vietnam. The Muppet movie. Love that film! Margaret Thatcher…ooh...Skylab falls to Earth, with a little help from me. Nearly took off my thumb, and I like my thumb, I need my thumb, I'm very attached to…"

The Doctor's statement trailed off he realized there was a musket pointed at his face. He and Sam had walked out of the TARDIS and straight into a platoon of soldier.

"…my thumb," said the Doctor quietly.

Sam swallowed nervously and tried to inconspicuously ease away from the rifle aimed at his own face.

The Doctor observed the soldiers' uniforms and model of gun. "1879. Same difference."

"Really? Again, mate?" Sam hissed.

"You will explain your presence!" barked the head of the battalion in a thick Scottish accent. Then he looked Sam over, with his old jeans, scruffy hair, and leather jacket. "And this ragamuffin's attire," he added.

"Oh, are we in Scotland?" the Doctor asked in a surprisingly good impression of a Scotsman.

"Oi, 'ragamuffin'?!" Sam spat.

"How can you be ignorant of that?" the officer inquired, choosing to ignore Sam.

"Oh, I'm, I'm dazed and confused," said the Doctor, continuing to use that silly and yet convincing fake accent. "I've been chasing this…" He gave Sam a look. "This hapless ruffian over hill and over dale. Isn't that right, yah…timorous beastie?"

"Uh, er, och, aye, I've been oot and aboot," said Sam awkwardly, poorly trying to imitate the Doctor.

"No, don't do that," the Doctor muttered to him in his real dialect.

"Hoots, mon?"

"No, really don't. Really," said the Doctor.

"Will you identify yourself, sir?" the officer asked.

"I'm Doctor…James McCrimmon," the Doctor declared. "From the…township of Balamory. Uh, I have my credentials, if I may?" The Doctor cautiously reached into his pocket and pulled out his psychic paper to show to the soldiers. "As you can see, a Doctorate from the University of Edinburgh. I trained under Dr. Bell himself."

"Let them approach," said a dainty, feminine voice. Sam looked around, but could see no woman. He figured it must have come from whoever was inside the carriage the convoy was accompanying.

"I don't think that's wise, ma'am," the officer called.

"Let them approach," the voice repeated, with a little more authority this time.

The officer seemed conflicted for a moment, then finally bade them, reluctantly, "You will approach the carriage…and show all due deference."

The Doctor and Sam looked at each other questioningly.

As they drew near the carriage, a footman opened the door of the coach to reveal a grand, older lady, in fancy (but serious) dress and elegant jewelry. She had the face one would put on a postage stamp.

Sam's mouth dropped open in undignified shock.

The Doctor grinned excitedly. "Sam," he said. "Might I introduce her Majesty Queen Victoria, Empress of India and Defender of the Faith."

"Er, Sam Tyler, your Majesty," said Sam, bowing deeply, still in utter shock. "And my apologies for being so informally dressed."

The Queen looked upon him impassively, but Sam thought he could detect a smile in her sagely blue eyes. "I've had three sons. It is nothing to me. But you, Doctor. Show me these credentials."

The Doctor gave her the psychic paper, which she studied. "Why didn't you say so immediately?" she asked, her eyebrows raised, which is just about as much surprise as a queen will show. "It states clearly here that you have been appointed by the Lord Provost as my Protector."

"Does it?" said the Doctor, taking his paper back and consulting it for himself. "Yes, it does. Good, good." He replaced the wallet in the inner pocket of his coat. "Then let me ask-why is your Majesty traveling by road when there's a train all the way to Aberdeen?"

"A tree on the line," the Queen replied.

"An accident?"

"I am the Queen of the United Kingdom of Britain and Ireland," said the woman. "Everything around me tends to be planned."

"Do you mean an assassination attempt?" Sam asked. "Who would want to kill you, mum?"

The Queen actually did smile at this. "I like this boy. And yes, I'm quite used to staring down the barrel of a gun."

"Well, not to worry. Me and the Doctor, we'll protect you as best we can," Sam said. "No one's going to lay a finger on you while we're around, I swear it."

"Sir Robert MacLeish lives but ten miles hence," said the commanding officer, breaking into the conversation. "We've sent word ahead. He'll shelter us for the night, then we can reach Balmoral tomorrow."

"This Doctor and his… 'timorous beastie' will come with us," the Queen said, nodding to the two men.

"Yes ma'am," said the officer. "We'd better get moving, it's almost nightfall."

"Indeed," agreed the Queen. "And there are stories are wolves in these parts. Fanciful tales to scare the children. But good for the blood, I think." She winked at the travelers mischievously. "Drive on!"

"Bloody hell," Sam whispered excitedly to the Doctor as the convoy started moving along the road again. "That was Queen Victoria. The Queen Victoria!"

"I know, it's brilliant, isn't it?" the Doctor replied, nodding his head rapidly. "She favors you, I can tell."

"Where'd you get the name 'James McCrimmon'?" Sam asked. "Just a name off the top of your head?"

"Oh no, it was a friend of mine, oh, so long ago," said the Doctor. "My old friend Jamie. We were…fairly good friends." He rubbed the back of his neck. "But seriously, Queen Victoria!"

"I know! This is just as amazing as Charles Dickens!" Sam exclaimed. "We've got to meet historical figures more often. Let's go meet Shakespeare some time. That'd be brilliant, don't you think? Or Agatha Christie, she's a marvelous author!"

"Alright, alright!" the Doctor laughed. "You're not usually so boisterous. That's usually my job."

"I know, but it's all so fantastic, isn't it? Oh, Doctor, meeting you was definitely the best thing that ever happened to me."

The Doctor's face went mutely surprised. "Doctor?" Sam said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," said the Doctor, slightly stammering. "It's just…I was just thinking the same thing about you."

Sam went quiet. He looked down at his seventies-ish Doc Martins shyly.

The Doctor wondered if he should have said that. "Hey," he said, changing the subject. "Bet you five quid you can't get her to say 'we are not amused'."

Sam smiled, rolling his eyes. "I don't play your games, mate."

"Ten quid?"

"Done."

Sam had been kidnapped and dragged to the cellar underneath the manor, where he was manacled to several other members of the household and staff. They were all cowering from a hooded creature sitting in a cage on the other side of the room.

Except Sam. He wasn't afraid. "Who are you?" he asked it, creeping closer. "What are you? You're not of this earth. Listen, my friend, the Doctor, we can help you get back to wherever you're from, if you want."

"Why would I leave this place?" the creature said, blinking up at Sam with golf ball-sized black pupils, poking eerily out from his creamy skin. "A world of industry, of workforce, of warfare." He licked his lips hungrily. "I could turn it to such purpose."

"How would you do that?" Sam asked.

"I would migrate to the Holy Monarch."

Sam realized what that meant. "You want the Queen."

"With one bite, I would pass into her blood, and it would begin," hissed the creature with delight. "The Empire of the Wolf." He peered at Sam with those creepy black eyes. "Many questions…"

Without warning, he lurched forward, making the other prisoners gasp and jump with fright. But Sam remained calm.

"Look. Inside your eyes," the creature murmured, staring at Sam. "So old, so weathered for one so young. Full of questioning, full of longing, full of torture."

Sam's breath caught in the back of his throat.

"And you've seen it too…" the creature said.

"Seen what?" said Sam, barely above whispering.

"The Wolf," it said. "There is something of the Wolf about you…"

"I-I don't know what you mean," Sam said nervously.

"You burnt like the sun," the creature said darkly. "But all I require is the moon."

Suddenly, with a loud and shattering BANG, the cellar door was opened, and the dark was invaded by the clean white light of the full moon.

The creature turned toward the light, smiling gratefully. "Moonlight," it moaned happily, and it began to transform…

"Mistletoe," said the Doctor, after an odd display of licking the wall analytically. He, Sam, the Queen, and Sir Robert were trapped inside the library with the great telescope, the wolf prowling around outside the room. "Viscum album, the oil of the mistletoe. It's been worked into the wood like a varnish. Powerful stuff, mistletoe. Bursting with lectins and viscotoxins, but why?"

"Maybe…it repels the wolf?" Sam guessed.

"Right on the first try!" the Doctor exclaimed. "If we weren't in the presence of her Majesty Queen Victoria in the 19th century about to be torn apart by a lupine wavelength haemovariform, I would kiss you! Perfect context too, considering the mistletoe, but never mind that now…" He turned to the bookshelves, scanning them intently.

"Er, he's kidding," said Sam to the other two, his ears turning red. "He's got a…strange sense of humor. Me and him…we're just mates. No! Wait! I meant we're…friends, that's all."

Sir Robert just looked away from the stuttering man awkwardly. The Queen just rolled her eyes.

Sam sighed with relief as the werewolf disappeared. The Doctor bent down to retrieve the Kohl-in-Noor diamond from the floor.

Queen Victoria was staring at her wrist. "Your Majesty?" the Doctor asked slowly.

The Queen did not answer.

"Did it bite you?" the Doctor asked.

"No," said the Queen. "It's…it's a cut, that's all."

The Doctor cautiously took a step forward. "If that thing bit you…"

"It was a splinter of wood when the door came apart," said the Queen. "It was nothing."

"Let me see?" said the Doctor, reaching her wrist.

"It is nothing," the Queen declared, stepping away from him. She smiled enigmatically at him.

The Doctor didn't look so sure.

Sam and the Doctor stepped forward and knelt before the Queen. "By the power invested in me by the Church and the State, I dub thee Sir Doctor of TARDIS." She gently touched the Doctor's shoulders with the tip of a saber. She did the same as she knighted Sam "Sir Sam of the Powell Estates".

The two men grinned at each other.

"Many thanks, ma'am," said the Doctor.

"It's been an honor, mum," added Sam.

"Your Majesty, you said last night about receiving no message from the great beyond," the Doctor said. "I think your husband cut that diamond to save your life. He's protecting you even now, ma'am, from beyond the grave."

"Indeed," agreed the Queen. "Then you may think on this also: that I am not amused."

Sam turned his head and smirked at the Doctor.

"Not remotely amused," continued Victoria. "And henceforth I banish you."

"I'm sorry?" the Doctor stated, looking bewildered.

"I rewarded you, Sir Doctor, and now you are exiled from this empire, never to return," the Queen declared. "I don't know what you are, the two of you, or where you're from, but I know that you consort with stars and magic and think it fun. But your world is steeped in terror and blasphemy and death, and I will not allow it. You will leave these shores and you will reflect, I hope, on how you came to stray so far from all that is good, and how much longer you may survive this terrible life. Now leave my world, and never return."

"No, but the funny thing is, Queen Victoria did actually suffer a mutation of the blood," the Doctor was saying to Sam on the long walk back to the TARDIS (after Sam made the Doctor give up the ten quid). "It's historical record. She was hemophiliac. They used to call it the Royal Disease. But it's always been a mystery because she didn't inherit it. Her mum didn't have it, her dad didn't have it. It came from nowhere."

"And you think it came from the wolf bite," said Sam.

"Well, maybe hemophilia is a Victorian euphemism," the Doctor said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Sam laughed. "So what, you're saying the Royal Family is a…wolf pack?"

"Ay, you didn't hear it from me," said the Doctor, winking.

"Nah, that's ridiculous," said Sam. "Mind you, Princess Anne…" The two men howled with laughter as they boarded their ship and dematerialized.

Chapter 29: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 9

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Girl In The Fireplace" by Steven Moffat, original air date: May 6, 2006* (1/2).
"School Reunion" was skipped.

Chapter Text

"So…why are we on an abandoned ship, exactly?" Sam said as he idly looked about the spacecraft the TARDIS had materialized inside of.

"No idea," said the Doctor, looking over the disrepaired console of the ship. "The TARDIS has a mind of her own sometimes, I swear."

"Hah. I'll vouch for that," said Sam. "Can't believe we were a hundred years off last time."

The Doctor sighed. "You're never going to let me live that one down, are you?...Hmm. Strange. The ship's power's at full capacity. There's enough power running through this ship to punch a hole in the universe, but we're not moving. So where's all that power going?"

"Hey, Doctor?" Sam called as he wandered into a side room.

"Yeah?"

"Does a spaceship necessarily need an old timey fireplace?"

"What?" The Doctor followed after Sam. In the room, there was indeed a decadent, old fashioned hearth. "Well, there's something you don't see in your average spaceship. Eighteenth century. French. Nice mantle." He stooped to inspect it, scanning it with his sonic screwdriver. "Not a hologram. It's not even a reproduction. This actually is an eighteenth century French fireplace. Double sided. There's another room through there."

"But that's impossible," Sam said, peering through a window. "We're in space. There it is, right out there, the outer hull of the ship."

The Doctor squatted on the ground to look through the dancing flames and saw a little girl in a white nightie with long blonde hair staring back at him. "Hello," he said.

"Hello," the girl replied.

"What's your name?" the Doctor asked.

"Who are you talking to?" Sam asked, kneeling beside him. "Oh. Hello, there."

"Hello," the girl said again. "And my name is Reinette."

"Reinette," the Doctor repeated. "That's a lovely name. Can you tell me where you are at the moment, Reinette?"

Reinette looked puzzled. "In my bedroom."

"And where's your bedroom?" the Doctor asked. "Where do you live, Reinette?"

"Paris, of course," Reinette said.

"Paris, right," said the Doctor.

"Monsieur," said the little girl, tilting her head to the side. "What are you doing in my fireplace?"

"Oh, it's just a routine check," the Doctor said. "Can you tell me what year it is?"

"Of course I can. 1727."

"Right, lovely. One of my favorites," the Doctor said. "August is rubbish though. Stay indoors. Okay, that's all for now. Thanks for your help. Hope you enjoy the rest of the fire. Night, night."

"Goodnight, monsieur," said Reinette, as the Doctor and Sam stood back up.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Sam asked.

"A hole in the universe," the Doctor replied. "From a spaceship in the 51st century to a little girl's bedroom in eighteenth century France."

"And…is that bad?"

"Could be. I've got to check this out. There must be a way to the other side, so to speak...gotcha!" The Doctor found a secret lever on the side of the fireplace and pulled it. The fireplace and the wall it was attached to immediately began to rotate, like a trick wall in one of those campy old Scooby Doo episodes.

"Doctor!" Sam exclaimed as the Doctor disappeared.

Minutes later, the Doctor returned, toting a large droid looking thing that was dressed in Victorian clothes, a powdered wig, and a porcelain mask. It made a loud ticking noise as it went, like a great big clock.

"What the hell is that?!" Sam exclaimed.

The Doctor grabbed a large gun laying off to the side and used it to spray the monster with a vaporous white substance. The droid froze in place.

"What is that thing?" Sam asked again.

"Fire extinguisher," the Doctor said, tossing him the big gun.

"No, I meant the big Victorian clockwork droid thing!" Sam exclaimed.

"I'm not sure, but I like that name for it. 'Clockwork droid'."

"But where did it come from?" Sam said insistantly.

"Here, in the ship."

"And it's dressed like that, why?"

"Field trip to France. Some kind of basic camouflage protocol." The Doctor stepped forward to properly inspect it, now that it wasn't a threat. "Nice needlework. Shame about the face." The Doctor removed the mask and wig to reveal a small clear plastic head encasing intricate golden gears and cogs.

"Clockwork droid," the Doctor said again. "It really is the perfect name. Oh, you are beautiful! No, really, you are. You're gorgeous! Look at that. Space age clockwork, I love it. I've got chills! Listen, seriously, I mean this from the hearts, and, by the way, count those, it would be a crime, it would be an act of vandalism to disassemble you." The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver. "But that won't stop me."

All of a sudden, the droid vanished. "Whoa, what'd it do?" Sam said.

"Short range teleport," the Doctor answered. "Can't have gotten far. Probably still on board."

"And where are you going?" Sam asked as the Doctor reached for the secret lever again.

"To investigate," the Doctor said. "And don't go looking for it!" he called as the wall turned and he disappeared from view.

"Alright," Sam replied. Then, once the Doctor was gone, he grinned, clutched the extinguisher, and ran off to find the monster.

"Oi, what'd I say? 'Don't wander off', that's the first rule," the Doctor said fifteen minutes later when he found Sam.

"Hey, you," said Sam. "What's up? Your face is all…flushed."

"Is it?" The Doctor looked away. "Must be the lighting in here."

"Your lips are swollen, too," said Sam, forcing the Doctor to look at him. "Hang on…have you been snogging someone?"

"Well…no, not exactly. She snogged me," the Doctor replied.

"Who?"

"Reinette."

Sam looked aghast. "You snogged a little girl?!"

"No, no, she grew up! There's something about the doorways between here and there, it's like their time moves faster. What was a few minutes for us was several years for her."

"And you snogged her?"

"Yes, and you'll never believe who she is. She's not just some French girl. She's Jean-Antoinette Poisson! Or more commonly known as Madame de Pompadour! Mistress of Louis the Fifteenth, uncrowned Queen of France! Actress, artist, musician, dancer, courtesan, fantastic gardener."

"And you snogged her?"

"Well…yes. A little."

Sam turned away. "Oh. Well. Good. Alright."

"Sam?" the Doctor asked cautiously. "Does my kissing Reinette bother you-"

"No!" exclaimed Sam. "Of course not. Why would it? I mean…you can kiss whoever you want. Cassandra, Madame de Pompadour, Cleopatra…it's no concern of mine."

"Okay," said the Doctor. "Just so we're on the same page."

"Yeah."

"Great."

"Fine."

"Super."

They were quiet for a minute, before Sam finally said, "So, while I was looking around, I discovered something. The ship. It's partially made up out of human body parts. There was an eyeball in a security camera, and a heart wired into the mainframe."

"Really?" The Doctor put a hand to his chin. "Replacing parts of the ship with body parts. But why…"

"Reinette, you're going to have to trust me," the Doctor said, pressing his fingertips to the woman's temples. "I need to find out what they're looking for. There's only one way I can do that. It won't hurt a bit."

Reinette gasped as the Doctor instigated a mind meld with her brain. "Fireplace man, you are inside my mind!"

"Oh dear, Reinette," murmured the Doctor. "You've had some cowboys in here. "

"You are in my memories. You walk among them."

"If there's anything you don't want me to see, just imagine a door and close it. I won't look," said the Doctor. "Oh, actually there's a door just there. You might want to cl-oh, actually, several."

"To walk among the memories of another living soul. Do you ever get used to this?" she asked.

"I don't make a habit of it."

"How can you resist?"

"What age are you?" the Doctor asked.

"So impertinent a question so early in the conversation," said Reinette. She smiled mischievously. "How promising."

"No, not my question, theirs. You're twenty three and for some reason, that means you're not old enough."

Reinette suddenly winced in his grasp.

"Sorry, you might find old memories reawakening. Side effect," the Doctor apologized.

Reinette shuddered. "Oh, such a lonely life."

"It'll pass," said the Doctor. "Stay with me."

"Oh, Doctor. So lonely. So very, very alone."

"What do you mean, alone? You've never been alone in your life." Suddenly, the Doctor opened his eyes. "When did you start calling me Doctor?"

"Such a happy little boy," Reinette continued. "Happy and in love. But then…it was ripped away from you, wasn't it? He was taken away from you and replaced with a monster. A monster now long dead."

The Doctor pulled away his hands in horror.

Reinette stared at him with glassy eyes. "It is the saddest thing I have ever heard. To be forced to fight against the one you want and hold most dear in your heart. How can you bear it?"

"How did you do that?" the Doctor whispered.

"A door, once opened, can be stepped through in either direction. Oh, Doctor. My lonely Doctor." She held out her hand. "Dance with me."

"Oh, look what the cat dragged in," Sam grumbled as the Doctor drunkenly staggered in, carrying a glass of red wine, with sunglasses on his face and his tie wrapped around his head like a bandana. Sam was strapped to a table with a clockwork droid's razor attachment shoved under his nose, ready to make an incision. "The Oncoming Storm. Where the hell have you been, off snogging more historical hussies?!"

"Well, among other things, I think just invented the banana daiquiri a few centuries early. Do you know, they've never even seen a banana before. Always take a banana to a party, Sam. Bananas are good." The Doctor ambled over to the droid hovering over Sam. "Oh ho, ho, ho, ho, brilliant! It's you. You're my favorite, you are. You are the best! Do you know why? 'Cause you're so thick. You're Mister Thick-Thick-Thickity-Thick Face from Thicktown, Thickania. And so's your dad!" The Doctor looked at Sam. "Do you know what they were scanning Reinette's brain for? Her milometer. They want to know how old she is. Know why? Because this ship is thirty seven years old, and they think that when Reinette is thirty seven, when she's complete, then her brain will be compatible. So, that's what you're missing, isn't it, hmm?" He said to the droid. "Command circuit. Your computer. Your ship needs a brain. And for some reason, God knows what, only the brain of Madame de Pompadour will do."

"The brain is compatible."

"Compatible?" The Doctor snorted. "If you believe that, you probably believe this is a glass of wine."

The Doctor removed the android's mask and poured the contents of his goblet into its circuitry. The clockwork seized up and shorted out immediately.

"Multigrain anti-oil," said the Doctor, dropping the drunk façade. "If it moves, it doesn't."

"Are you there? Can you hear me? I need you now. You promised. The clock on the mantel is broken. It is time!"

"That's my voice," said Reinette, looking fearfully at Sam.

Sam wished he could say something…anything, to console this woman. She must be so scared, not knowing anything. "Are you okay?" he finally said.

"No," answered Reinette honestly. "I'm very afraid. But you and I both know, don't we, Sam?"

She smiled bravely.

"The Doctor is worth the monsters."

Sam watched as the clockwork droids invaded the party in Versailles, taking Madame de Pompadour prisoner. "Doctor, they have her, what are we going to do?"

"I don't know, I'm trying!" The Doctor exclaimed, rushing around the controls. "They've closed off all the windows, the only way to get there and back is via teleport, which they have and we don't!"

"But we have the TARDIS!"

"No, no, we can't take the TARDIS, we're already a part of events."

"Then…then…let's smash through," said Sam.

The Doctor stopped. "What?"

"Yeah. Let's just smash through the windows," said Sam.

"If I do that," said the Doctor, "I'd be trapped in 18th century France. Forever."

"Doctor," said Sam. "You can't let her die."

The Doctor looked at him with big sad brown eyes. "You'd be stuck too, here."

"I'd find a way to come get you," said Sam. "I did it before, didn't I?"

"Sam…are you sure?" the Doctor asked him seriously.

"Doctor, you'd never forgive yourself if you let them kill her. Do what you need to do." Sam touched the Doctor's arm. "I'll be okay."

Sam stood at the Doctor's shoulder as he read the letter from Madame de Pompadour. "Are you alright?" he asked.

The Doctor gave a forced smile. "I'm always alright."

"Liar."

The Doctor laughed weakly. "Okay, no. But I will be."

Without having to be asked, Sam hugged him tightly.

Chapter 30: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 10

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Girl In The Fireplace" by Steven Moffat, original air date: May 6, 2006 (2/2).

Chapter Text

Of course the Doctor had been lying to Sam, of course he wasn't alright. Reinette's death had saddened him, and he had never even gotten to fulfill his promise to her. But that would go away. He had only known Madame de Pompadour for a short couple of hours. But the experience of the reverse mind meld would not be so easily shaken.

The Doctor had not thought of his old best enemy since the War. Why would he?

The Master was dead, long dead. The Daleks had captured and executed the evil Time Lord. But before he died, he made one last request to his executioners: summon his old frenemy, the Doctor, and have him deliver his remains to be buried on their home planet, Gallifrey.

So, his seventh self, the short one with the ugly sweater vest and question mark umbrella, grudgingly made the pilgrimage to Skaro, picked up the small gold casket containing the last stray bits of his longtime rival, and brought them home.

Or at least, he meant to.

It was really stupid of him to think that the wicked witch was morally, ethically, spiritually, physically, positively, absolutely, undeniably and reliably dead. Honestly, how many times had the Master died and then simply reappeared later along his timeline, with no explanation as to his survival? It was as the hull of his last true Time Lord body had told him: it is my hatred that sustains me. And it seemed true, for the Master seemed to have one goal and one goal alone: to kill the Doctor. And a few times, he came pretty damn close.

But, back to the story. The Master somehow managed to not only survive the execution, but break free from his urn (even in death, he couldn't trust him), worm his way into his TARDIS's inner circuitry, cause the TARDIS to land in San Francisco, 1999, and made the Seventh Doctor get shot by triads and nearly operated on to death by a confused heart surgeon who was unfamiliar with the Time Lord binary circulatory system (poor Grace).

Okay, that last bit wasn't necessarily the Master's fault, it really was an unfortunate (or from the Master's point of view, happy) accident. Anyway, the Doctor ended up regenerating, snogging aforementioned heart surgeon a bit, and stopping the Master from destroying the universe and stealing his remaining regenerations. This all concluded with the Master falling into the Eye of Harmony, to live out the rest of his consciousness's existence in the black hole within his TARDIS. The Doctor had tried to offer his help one last time to his old enemy, in hopes that there might be a way to salvage the good man the Doctor had once known, but the Master had refused and allowed himself to be sucked in.

Stuck in a black hole. For all eternity. Such a cruel punishment. But still, the Doctor couldn't help feeling like the Master deserved it…a little.

As for the Master's current condition and whereabouts, the Doctor didn't know, but he could only guess that he was either a) festering as a ghost of sorts inside his TARDIS (wouldn't surprise him, he would do it, just to spite him, plus it might explain the ship's recent misbehavior), or b) (and this was the more likely option)…the Master had simply ceased to exist. If the Master was still around, the Doctor would have been able to sense him. But he knew there were no more Time Lords, because he could not feel them. He was the last. Alone.

Well, of course, the Doctor had been hurt when the Master died, of course he was, he was an old…friend, after all. The Doctor had told himself that it was pointless to grieve over the Master, because all he had been was a nuisance (at best) and a terror throughout the cosmos. It was better, he decided, that he was gone. Their friendship was long, long over, and either way, Koschei was dead. It was undeniable.

…and yet sometimes, he almost wished for his presence.

Well, that wasn't completely true. Someone like Susan, or his mother, father, brother, or son, would have naturally been more desirable than an old arch enemy. But there had been a time when the Doctor and the Master were friends. Theta Sigma had missed Koschei very much, all throughout his contract marriage, after he had divorced his wife, the remainder of his first life, and much of his second. And of course, you know the rest.

The Doctor had loved Koschei. He wasn't denying that. But Koschei and the Master were gone, just like the rest of the Time Lords. The Doctor had moved on.

But then why did Reinette recalling those memories of him make his hearts ache?

"Hey, Doctor?"

The Doctor shook his head slightly, shaken from his reverie. "Er, yes? What is it, Sam?"

Sam seemed to be inspecting his face in the mirror. He ran a finger over the skin between his nose and upper lip. "How do you suppose I'd look with facial hair?"

The Doctor laughed. "Not very good, I think. I like the clean shaven look on you. I imagine if you tried to grow a beard, you'd just end up looking like a savage."

"S'pose you're right," Sam laughed. "Silly me. I'm off to shave."

The Doctor chuckled to himself as his companion jogged off to the bathroom. Silly Sam. And silly Doctor, too.

Chapter 31: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 11

Notes:

Chapter based on "Rise Of The Cybermen" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: May 13, 2006 (1/2).
Contains scenes from The Five Doctors by Terrence Dicks, original air date: November 23, 1983.

Chapter Text

"Doctor?" Sam called from the console. "Can I let go of this now?"

"Let go of what?" asked the Doctor, coming into the control room.

"This button here. You told me to put my finger on it."

The Doctor paled. "When was that?"

"About half an hour ago."

"You-you can let go now."

Sam released the button. "How long's it been since I could have stopped?"

The Doctor swallowed. "Ten minutes? Twenty…twenty nine?"

Suddenly, the ship gave a great lurch. The console blew up in a fiery shower of sparks. The two men grabbed on to either side of the console. "The Time Vortex!" the Doctor cried as he stared at the monitor. "That's impossible. It's just…gone!"

"Doctor, we're crashing!" Sam yelled.

"Hold on!"

The TARDIS halted as it crashlanded God knows where. The light inside the TARDIS was off, and the time rotor wasn't moving anymore. "Sam!" coughed the Doctor. "You alright?"

"Yeah!" Sam called back, struggling to stand up from where he'd fallen. "You?"

"Yeah. But the TARDIS…" The Doctor inspected the workings of his machine. "She's dead," the Doctor said in horror. "The TARDIS is dead."

"What?" sputtered Sam. "But…but…you can fix it, yeah?"

"There's nothing to fix," said the Doctor. "She's perished. The last TARDIS in existence…extinct."

Sam covered his face with his hands and rubbed in agitation. "Doctor, I'm…I'm so sorry."

"No, it's not your fault, it was my stupid fault." The Doctor sorrowfully ran a hand over the now useless time rotor.

"So…where are we?" Sam asked, crossing to the door.

"Sam, don't go out there! We fell out of the vortex, through the void, into nothingness. We're in some sort of no place."

"By no place, do you mean London?"

"What?" The Doctor turned around.

"Yeah," said Sam, pointing out the door. "It's London out there." He walked out, and the Doctor dazedly followed him.

"See? London, England, Earth. Hold on…" Sam picked up and consulted a newspaper someone had left sitting on a park bench. "First of February this year. Not too far off, are we?"

"So this is London," said the Doctor, gazing at the sky.

"Yep."

"Your city."

"Last time I checked."

"Just as we left it."

"Bang on."

"And that includes the Zeppelins?"

Sam curiously looked up. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed.

The sky was littered with huge silver blimps. "Okay…so it's London with a big international Zeppelin festival," said Sam, rubbing the back of his neck.

"This is not your world," said the Doctor darkly.

They were in, Sam sussed out, a parallel world. "We're not meant to be here," the Doctor said. "The TARDIS draws its power from the universe, but it's the wrong universe. It's like diesel in a petrol engine."

"But I've seen it in comics. People go hopping from one alternative world to another. It's easy…and that was a really dumb thing to say, wasn't it," said Sam, seeing the look on the Doctor's face.

The Doctor tipped his head slightly to the side, not saying yes, not saying no. But really saying yes. "It's not so easy in the real world," he answered. "It used to be easy though. When the Time Lords kept their eye on everything, you could hop between realities, home in time for tea. Then they died, and took it all with them. The walls of reality closed, the worlds were sealed. Everything became less kind."

The Citadel guards opened the doors for the Master, and with a signature crafty grin, he entered, dramatically pushing the tails of his velvet jacket out of the way as he seated himself at the table with his fellow Time Lords.

He was in a surprisingly good mood. True, the Doctor had just foiled his latest plot, but it was really just a lark, mostly just to annoy his enemy. And as always, the misadventure had ended with the Doctor sabotaging his TARDIS (a rather nasty habit he'd developed; the Master would never sink so low), but this summons by the Time Lords had included a mending of his TARDIS, free of charge. Best of all, he had gotten to encounter his old enemy again, and had amused himself by invading the other Time Lord's personal space. It made him chuckle internally at how the Doctor's current incarnation became so squeamish when the Master drew intimately near. So all in all, not a terrible day.

"Lord President, Castellan, Chancellor Flavia. This is a very great and, may I say, a most unexpected honor. I may be seated?...Now then, what can I do for you?" the Master simpered.

"You are one of the most evil and corrupt beings this Time Lord race has ever produced," said Flavia. "Your crimes are without number and your villainy without end. Nevertheless, we are prepared to offer you a full and free pardon."

The Master leaned forward. "And what makes you think I want your forgiveness?" he challenged.

"We can offer you an alternative to your renegade existence," said the Castellan.

"Regeneration," added Borusa. "A complete new life cycle."

The Master considered this. To have a Time Lord body again. No less, to have twelve fresh, new regenerations! Life extended. "What must I do?" he inquired at once.

"Rescue the Doctor," Borusa replied.

The Master drew back in his chair, surprised. "What?"

Sam shook his head. "Then how did we get here?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I don't know. Accident? Should've been impossible. Now we're trapped…what's that?" He looked down at something on the floor.

"What?"

"That, there. Is that a reflection?" The Doctor bent down to inspect a tiny green light in the workings under the floor grate. "It's a light!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Is it? Is that a light? I think that's a light. That's all we need. We've got power! Sam, we've got power! Ha!"

The Doctor unearthed the tiny, green glowing component. "It's alive!"

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"It's nothing. It's tiny. One of those insignificant little power cells that no one ever bothers about, and it's clinging onto life, with one little ounce of reality tucked away inside."

"Enough to get us home?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Not yet. I need to charge it up."

"We could go outside and lash it up to the National Grid," Sam suggested.

"Wrong sort of energy," said the Doctor. "It's got to come from our universe."

"But we don't have anything," said Sam, looking around.

The Doctor grinned. "There's me."

The Doctor cradled the cell in his hands and blew on it. Its soft green light grew a tad bit brighter.

The Doctor looked at Sam and smiled. "I just gave away ten years of my life…worth every second."

The Doctor was in trouble. Not only was the one he currently knew, the fifth incarnation, trapped in the Death Zone, but three other versions of him as well. The third, the one who had been marooned on Earth for some time, with the dandy-like fashion sense and the penchant for Venusian akido; the second one, a short fellow with a Beatles haircut and the wardrobe of a hobo, one who the Master had never gotten to know…and Theta. A much older Theta, nearing the end of his first life.

The fourth, however, was trapped in the Time Vortex. That was fine with the Master. He didn't fancy facing the incarnation of the Doctor he'd killed off…not because he felt guilty, of course.

"We believe the attempt to lift him from his time stream was unsuccessful. There he must stay until we can find and free his other selves," Flavia was saying.

"And if you cannot?" the Master asked. He looked down at the table.

"The cosmos without the Doctor scarcely bares thinking about," he said, without really realizing he'd said it.

Then he caught himself and looked up. "What makes you think his other selves are in the Zone?" he inquired.

"Their time traces. They converge there," Borusa answered.

"And you can get me into the Zone?"

"We have a power-boosted, open-ended transmat beam," the Castellan informed him.

"Ah," said the Master. "Why me?"

The Master tried to ignore a meaningful look shared by Flavia and the Castellan. "Because we need someone determined, experienced, ruthless, cunning," said Borusa.

"And disposable," added the Master.

"Not at all," the Castellan reassured him. "You would be useless to us dead."

"Will you go?" Flavia asked.

"Will you?" Borusa added.

"And rescue the Doctor…" the Master considered.

He laughed.

"It's going out," said Sam, watching as the cell redimmed. "Is that okay?"

"It's on a recharging cycle," the Doctor said. "It'll loop round, power back up and be ready to take us home in, ooh, twenty four hours?"

Sam grinned. "So that gives us twenty four hours on a parallel world?"

The Doctor grinned, knowing exactly what Sam was thinking. "Allons-y, Sam Tyler."

They were walking down the street. Sam was looking around in amazement. "I can't believe it. It's just so…the same. But different. Kind of like when you changed. Isn't it though? Oh, hello, what's this?"

Sam's phone was buzzing. He pulled it out. A message had popped up on the screen. Free trial period?

Sam shrugged and hit ACCEPT. "Doctor, lookit. Free Internet on my phone."

On the little screen, there was a video of a newscaster. "And today, England was very happy to welcome home John Lumic, owner of Cybus Industries-"

"Sam." The Doctor shook his arm. "Look."

Sam looked up from his screen to see that all the people around them were frozen. "What is it?"

The Doctor walked up to the nearest one. He, like all the others, wearing a pair of metal ear buds. "It's the ear pieces," he said.

"But-" Suddenly, Sam was interrupted by the sound of a loud screeching. A van suddenly pulled up along side them. The doors burst open, and two men jumped out, a white guy with spiky blonde hair and a black man with very short hair, both wearing darkly colored clothes.

"Come on, Harry!" exclaimed Spiky Hair as he grabbed Sam roughly by the shoulders.

"Ah! Oi, let go of me!" Sam shouted as he was forced into the van.

"Sam!" the Doctor cried as the doors to the van slammed shut and the vehicle sped away.

Chapter 32: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 12

Notes:

Chapter based on "Rise Of The Cybermen" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: May 13, 2006 (2/2).

Chapter Text

"What the bloody hell were you thinking? Wandering out onto the streets like that, in plain daylight?" Spiky Hair demanded, lightly cuffing Sam on the ear. "It was you who said we gotta stay in hiding. And who was that skinny bloke you were with? Brother? You said no family!"

"He's not my brother," said Sam. "He's the Doctor, and-who the hell are you people?!"

Spiky Hair raised an eyebrow. "Who are we? What game are you playing, Harry?"

"I'm not Harry!" Sam exclaimed. "Why do you keep calling me Harry?!"

"Boss is off his rocker," said Spiky Hair's friend. "Do you reckon they done something to him, Jake?"

"Dunno, Mickey. But don't worry," said the spiky haired fellow, who was apparently named Jake. He turned to look at Sam. "We'll sort him out."

"Listen, mates, I think you've got me mistaken for some other bloke," said Sam. "My name is Sam, not Harry, and-"

The blonde woman who was driving the van, cut him off as she called back to them, "Jake! I looked up those vans you spied taking the homeless. They're owned by a company named International Electromatics. But I did a protocol search. Turns out that's a dummy company established by guess who."

"Cybus Industries," Mickey and Jake spat at the same time, venomously.

"Cybus Industries…" Sam said slowly. "I heard of them…it was on the news on my phone."

"Damn right you've heard of 'em," said Jake. "They're the blighters we're fighting against. You're fighting against."

"Me?" Sam said.

Jake shook his spiky head. "Poor chappie. They really mucked you up, didn't they?"

"Ay, Saxon," said Mickey. "Got some good news for you. Well, good and bad news. They arrested Thin Jimmy today."

"So that just leaves you," added Jake.

"Leaves me…as what?" Sam said nervously.

"The Number One. Top of the list. London's Most Wanted." Jake grinned.

"Oh…well…that's brilliant," said Sam slowly.

He needed to get back to the Doctor. But for now, these people had him captured. They thought he was this Harry guy. So Sam figured it was in his best interest to just keep quiet and play along.

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and scanned the van as it was driving away. He got a signal on it. He looked around and ran over to a motorist, still catatonic from the signal coming from the earpieces. He gently pried him off his vehicle.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he said as he climbed on. "But I'm requisitioning this bike. I need to find my friend."

He jetted off after the van.

The van pulled up to an old abandoned house. It was evening now, Sam noted when he climbed out of the van with Jake, Mickey, and the blonde woman. "There's a light on," Jake noted, gesturing up to the house. "There's someone inside the base. Mrs. Moore, we've got visitors."

Mickey and Mrs. Moore both pulled out guns. Sam eyed them nervously.

The four of them crept up to the house. When they got to the front door, Jake halted them. He held up his gun to his chest, ready to fire. "One, two, three, go!" he whispered, and they rushed inside.

They emerged in a room that was probably the living area at some point. There was old worn out furniture, yellowed floral wallpaper that was peeling from the walls, and a dusty chandelier illuminating the room. By the crumbling hearth, there was a man dressed all in black, his back turned to them. He turned at the sound of them tromping in. "What the hell are you doing?" he said.

Sam's mouth dropped open. Except for the clothes, the man was his exact likeness! This must be Harry Saxon.

Jake stared at Sam's twin in confusion. "What're you doing there?"

"What am I doing here?" Harry demanded. He pointed at Sam accusingly. "What am I doing there?"

Mickey and Mrs. Moore quickly turned their guns on Sam.

He gulped. "Erm…I can explain."

They stripped Sam down to his knickers and strung him up to a chair. Mickey ran a device over his limbs that reminded Sam of the Doctor's sonic screwdriver. "He's clean," Mickey announced. "No bugs."

"But this is off the scale," said Harry Saxon, studying his twin. "He's flesh and blood. How did that happen?"

"Well, it could be that Cybus Industries have perfected the science of human cloning," Mrs. Moore reasoned.

"Or your father had a bike," Jake added, chuckling.

Harry glared at him.

Jake stopped laughing. "Sorry, boss."

"Alright, you," said Harry, looking at Sam. "What's your name?"

"SAM TYLER!" They all looked up in surprise as the Doctor came tromping in. "How many times have I told you not to go wondering off?"

"Oh, sorry, mate, just wanted a bit of a lark, you know, won't happen again. Where the hell have you been?!" Sam exclaimed.

Mickey, Jake, and Mrs. Moore all aimed their guns at the Doctor.

"You know him?" Harry asked, jerking a thumb at his counterpart.

"Ooh, parallel Sam, that's brilliant, that is, hello, I'm the Doctor! What's your name?" said the Doctor genially. "By the way, I'm unarmed, and I don't particularly care for violence, so if you could just put the guns away."

"Jake," ordered Harry. "Frisk him."

Jake patted the Doctor down. He pulled out the Doctor's sonic screwdriver. "What's this?"

"Just a screwdriver. Nothing threatening."

"It could be a bomb trigger," said Mrs. Moore suspiciously.

"Fine, take it, but I'm telling you, it's nothing harmful," said the Doctor, as Jake passed Harry the sonic screwdriver.

"Alright, Harry, he's clean," said Jake.

Mrs. Moore and Mickey put down their guns.

"Well, I can see why you kidnapped my friend," said the Doctor. "You thought he was this fellow here, and I can see why."

"What is he?" asked Harry.

"Oi, that's rude," scolded the Doctor. "He's not an it, he's a person, and he's got a name. Isn't that right, Sam Tyler?"

"Tyler?!" repeated Harry. Suddenly, Mickey and Mrs. Moore pulled out their guns again, one aimed at Sam, one at the Doctor. "As in Pete Tyler?!" Harry spat.

"Well, Tyler's a common name," the Doctor said. "I never knew a Pete Tyler, did you, Sam?"

Sam swallowed. "No. Never."

"Well, then, there you are," said the Doctor. "No connection. So you can relax."

They put their guns down, but not away. "So, who are you lot then?" the Doctor asked.

"We? We are the Preachers," said Harry.

"As in Gospel Truth," added Jake.

Harry turned his head from side to side. "You see? No ear plugs. While the rest of the world downloads from Cybus Industries, we, we have freedom. You're talking to London's Most Wanted, but target Number One is Lumic, and we are going to bring him down."

The Doctor looked around. "From a rundown old mansion?"

"You got a problem with that?"

"No, no, it's a nice rundown old mansion, don't me wrong," said the Doctor. "But just out of curiousity, what have you all got against this Lumic fellow?"

"Lumic is an autocrat," said Harry menacingly. "He controls the government from his company. He's ruthless, vicious, and murderous."

"Murderous?" the Doctor asked in surprise.

"He takes people off the streets," said Mickey. "And then they're never seen again."

Suddenly, a computer in the corner chirped. Mrs. Moore rushed over and inspected the screen. "It's an upload from Gemini."

"Who's Gemini?" the Doctor asked.

"Covert intelligence," Harry explained briefly. "Keeping tabs on Cybus and Lumic for those of us seeking independence."

"The vans are back," Mrs. Moore reported. "They're moving out of Battersea. Looks like Gemini was right. Lumic's finally making a move."

"And we're right behind him. Pack up, we're leaving," ordered Harry. He turned and looked at the Doctor. "You, Mister…what was your name?"

"Just Doctor, thanks."

"Right then. Doctor, if you and your friend would accompany us," said Harry.

"But why?" Sam asked, as Mickey untied him.

"Because I have this feeling that the two of you can help us," said Harry. "We leave in ten minutes. Get moving." Then he walked out.

As Jake, Mickey, and Mrs. Moore began to pack up their equipment, the Doctor hurried over to Sam. "You alright?"

"Yeah. How'd you find me?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Eh. Stole a bike. Nice look for you, by the way."

Sam looked down and realized that he was still in his underpants. "D'oh!" He blushed and quickly pulled on his discarded clothes.

They piled up in the van. Mickey, Jake, Mrs. Moore, and Sam were all in the back, while the Doctor sat up front with Harry.

Harry tailed a big eighteen wheeler labeled "International Electromatics" on the side. "So…what's your plan?" the Doctor asked.

"According to the reports, the trucks are going to this big shindig Pete Tyler's throwing at his mansion, birthday party for his wife or something. We're going to send in a couple of people to do reconnaissance, then, when Lumic makes his move, the rest of us burst in."

"Send Sam and me," said the Doctor.

"No way. I'm going in," said Harry.

"You're not serious. You said you're London's Most Wanted. You can't just waltz into some big gala party. Besides, you need to lead your team. Send me and Sam. You'd be surprised at how good we are at blending in."

Harry looked like he'd never considered this. "Well…fine. But take this," he handed the Doctor a watch and a pair of ear pieces. "The ear plugs are fakes; they'll help you blend in. And the watch is a communication device to keep in touch with us in case you run into any trouble. And here, here's your…thing." He gave the Doctor back his sonic screwdriver.

"Thanks. Much appreciated. Sam'll need some ear pieces too, and probably some form of disguise, since he looks just like you."

"Mrs. Moore is handling it."

In the back of the van, Mickey and Jake were loading up their weapons, while Mrs. Moore was working with Sam.

"Just hold still," said Mrs. Moore, as she dabbed some spirit gum onto Sam's face.

"Is this really necessary?" Sam asked as Mrs. Moore slapped a fake moustache and goatee beard onto his face.

"Yep. Now, ear pods fit alright?"

"Yeah. Thanks, mum."

As Mrs. Moore got up to get her gun, Mickey slid into her seat. "Hey. Mickey Smith."

"Sam Tyler. But you knew that," said Sam as he shook Mickey's hand.

"Just wanted to apologize for the way we treated you before. Can't be too careful, you know?"

"Yeah. I get it."

"Say, listen," said Mickey, looking around as if to make sure no one was listening. "Better keep a hold on your man. I saw the way Harry was eyeballing him."

Sam's eyebrows knit together. "Who?"

"You know. The Doctor?" Mickey suddenly looked embarrassed. "Oh wait. You two aren't-"

"No, we're not!" Sam stated.

"Oh. Sorry. I just thought…you know, with the way he was staring at you in your skivvies back there-"

"Yeah, no, never gonna happen," said Sam drily. "I don't fancy men."

"Well, Harry does," said Mickey. "And the Doctor's right up his alley. So I'd be watchful. You know what I mean?"

Suddenly, the van came to a halt. The door opened. Harry poked his head in. "We're here."

They all hopped out. Sam went over to the Doctor at once. Harry repeated the plan. "Doctor, do you have a way of infiltrating the party?" he asked.

"Er, yeah, I can…whip up something," the Doctor replied. He winked at Sam.

"Good. Then get to it."

They separated. "Nice beard," chortled the Doctor.

"Shut up," said Sam, scratching at the fake hair glued to his face. "So, psychic paper, right? Who shall we be?"

"Kitchen staff-waiters. We'll be able to eavesdrop without being noticed. It's the perfect disguise."

Sam nodded, but he seemed to be thinking about something else.

"What is it?"

"I was lying back there, you know," said Sam. "About Pete Tyler. I do know him. Or I did. I'm a foster kid, remember? Pete and Jackie were my first family. But Pete died."

"Well, maybe not in this world," said the Doctor. "Every parallel world is built on decisions, paths not taken. Maybe in this world, Pete Tyler didn't die. Maybe in this world, he lived, and became successful. And before you ask, no, you can't introduce yourself. The Tylers may have their own children now, who knows?"

"Yeah, I know. I'm just saying. It's weird, right? Talk about coincidences."

"I don't believe in coincidences," the Doctor said. "The universe is very rarely so lazy."

Sam and the Doctor snuck in and posed as servers. They walked around the party, offering guests refreshments, eavesdropping all the while, but Sam didn't manage to pick up anything important.

"Waiter! Champagne, please."

Sam was called over by a blonde girl in a pink cocktail dress. "Thank you," she said, taking a glass from his tray.

"You're welcome, Miss…"

"Tyler. Rose Tyler," she answered. "My parents are the ones throwing this party."

"Oh," said Sam, a little surprised. So the Tylers did have a child. Had the Pete from his world survived, had the Tylers not given him up, this might be his sister. "Well, small world. I'm Sam Tyler."

The girl laughed. "Think we're related?"

Sam laughed too. "I don't think so."

"Say…I saw you talking with that waiter over there," said Rose, pointing to the Doctor, who looked especially handsome in his serving uniform. "He's kind of cute. Is he seeing anyone?"

"Ah…sorry, he's, um…gay," said Sam.

Rose sighed. "Typical. Well, thanks anyway." She walked away.

Sam wasn't sure why he'd told her that.

Suddenly, there was a ruckus around the room as partygoers gathered at the windows. Sam rushed over to the Doctor. "What's going on?"

The Doctor was staring out the window intently, in disbelief. "It's happening again."

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen them before," said the Doctor in horror.

"Seen what before?" Sam edged over to look at what everyone else was looking at.

Marching straight up to the house, was a battalion of silver, human shaped…robots. That was the best word for them. They were big, there were bulky looking, and they made Sam's spine tingle, as if he'd seen them before as well.

"What are they?" Sam whispered.

The Doctor looked at him with panicked brown eyes. "Cybermen!"

Chapter 33: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 13

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Age Of Steel" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: May 20, 2006 (1/2).
Contains scenes from The Five Doctors by Terrence Dicks, original air date: November 23, 1983.

Chapter Text

The Cybermen invaded the Tylers' estate. They killed the President, and a bunch of partygoers. The Preachers tried to shoot at the Cybermen. "It's no good, bullets won't stop them!" the Doctor shouted. "We've got to get out of here!"

The troop raced for the door, but suddenly Sam spotted a familiar looking man in a black suit, running with a blonde woman in a black dress. No, that can't be…

"Pete, they're everywhere!" yelped the woman.

It was. "Oi! Pete, Jackie!" Sam shouted.

The couple looked up.

"This way! Follow us!" shouted Sam.

The Tylers followed after them, out the door, where Mrs. Moore pulled up in the van. "Everybody in!" she shouted.

"Rose!" Jackie cried, turning back. "Please, my daughter, she's still in there somewhere!"

"Mrs. Tyler, please, we have to go now," said Sam.

"But-"

"Listen, I'm really, really sorry, but if anyone's still in there, they're most likely…dead."

Jackie wailed.

"Please, Mrs. Tyler, we have to go, now!" Sam grabbed her hand and pulled her into the van. They promptly sped away.

Harry glared at Pete and Jackie. "Can't believe we wasted time saving them."

Sam looked up in surprise. "What've they done?"

Harry laughed without humor. "You don't know? Pete Tyler here works for John Lumic, the piece of scum that created those monsters."

"Oh, you think so?" said Pete. "And where'd you learn that? From Gemini, yeah?"

Harry looked a little taken aback. "How do you know about Gemini?"

"Because I run Gemini," said Pete. "Gemini is me. I created it. The only reason I worked with Lumic was to receive information on him. Besides, do you really think that if I was working with Lumic, I'd have let him kill my daughter?"

Beside him, Jackie let out a sob.

Sam patted her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Tyler. Truly, I am. I met her. Her name was Rose, wasn't it? She was nice to me. Even though I was just a waiter. Maybe she's not dead. We can't know for sure. She may have gotten away."

Jackie wiped her eyes. "Thank you," she said. "Maybe you're right. You're a sweet boy, you know that? Your parents must be so proud of you."

Sam just smiled back.

"I thought I was broadcasting to the Security Services," continued Pete, sounding angry. "What do I get? Scooby Doo and his gang. They've even got the van!"

"It's alright, Mr. Tyler," said Sam. "The Preachers know what they're doing. Harry said he's London's Most Wanted."

Harry blanched. "Yeah, that's not exactly true. I'm London's Most Wanted for…parking tickets."

Pete rolled his eyes. "Great."

"But they were deliberate though!" said Harry defiantly. "I was fighting the system! Park anywhere, that was the idea."

"Good policy. I do much the same," said the Doctor. "I'm the Doctor, by the way. Lovely to meet you, Tylers."

"And I'm Sam," he added.

Pete miserably shook their hands. "Do any of you know if there's a way to find out if my daughter is…"

"We'll try our hardest to find her, Mr. Tyler," said Harry. "It's the least we could do, after all you've done for us."

"She might still be alive," Sam added.

"That's even worse," said Pete. "Because that's what Lumic does. He takes the living and he turns them into those machines."

"Cybermen. They're called Cybermen," said the Doctor. "And I'd take those ear pods off, if I were you. You never know. Lumic could be listening." Pete and Jackie handed over their ear pieces and the Doctor zapped them with the sonic screwdriver. "But he's overreached himself," the Doctor continued. "He's still just a businessman. He's assassinated the President. All we need to do is get to the city and inform the authorities. Because I promise you, this ends tonight."

Once the Master had been transmatted into the Death Zone, a barren waste land of dirt, rocks, and wilting grass, he wandered around a bit, not sure what he was looking for. Then, he heard the familiar sound of a car engine. He turned and saw a bright yellow roadster approaching, carrying a brunette woman and a white haired man in dandy clothes.

"I don't believe it," he said to himself. He ran toward the car, calling, "Doctor! Wait!"

The car slowed and backed up to meet him. The Master looked down at the third incarnation of his old enemy. "Jehosophat, it really is you," said the Doctor, staring at him in disbelief. "Yes, well, I should have known you'd be behind all this."

"Doctor, who is it?" asked the woman with him.

"He's my best enemy," said the Doctor. "He likes to be known as the Master," he said, turning back to the other man. "Don't you? My, my, my, but you've changed. Another regeneration?"

"Not exactly," the Master replied, gritting his teeth. As if he needed to be reminded that he was no longer a proper Time Lord! But soon, that would all be changed, back to the way it should be...

"I take it you are responsible for our being in the Death Zone?" the Doctor asked accusingly.

"For once, I'm innocent, here at the High Council's request to help you, and your other selves," said the Master.

"You? Sent here by the Time Lords to help me?" The Doctor snorted. "I've never heard such arrant nonsense."

"I happen to be telling the truth. I carry the Seal of the High Council," he said, pulling it out to demonstrate.

"Yes, forged, no doubt," said the Doctor.

"See for yourself," said the Master, handing it over for the Doctor to examine.

The Doctor looked it over to find that it was in fact, genuine. "Stolen, then," he decided, slipping it into the pocket of his ugly tartan cloak. "I'll return it at the first opportunity."

"If you would only listen, I'm here to help," the Master insisted.

"You? Help me? Rubbish. This is some kind of a trap."

"I knew this was going to be difficult, but I didn't realize that even you would be so stupid as to make it impossible," the Master grumbled.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning, one of the many perils of Gallifrey's Death Zone, struck, and the Master jumped out of the way to narrowly miss it. "I knew it! A trap," the Doctor exclaimed.

"These thunderbolts are everywhere," the Master pointed out, a little offended, as the Doctor reached for his gearshift.

"No, we can't leave him," the Doctor's companion protested.

The Doctor stuck that beaky nose in the air, saying, "You just watch me," as he sped away, leaving the Master behind.

Lumic took control of the citizens via the ear pieces and drove them in drones to his factory, where he could convert them into more Cybermen. The Doctor, Sam, the Tylers, and the Preachers hatched a plan to infiltrate the factory and save the people before they could be changed. Pete and Jackie agreed to go in, pretending to be catatonic like the other Londoners. Harry, Jake, and Mickey ran off to take out the Zepplin, which was acting as a transmitter. And the Doctor, Sam, and Mrs. Moore resolved to sneak into the factory through the cooling tunnels.

The three of them climbed in. Since it was a cooling tunnel, it was cold. Sam wished he had his hoodie and not this thin waiter's coat. It was also dark. "Here," said Mrs. Moore, handing him, the Doctor, and herself a headlamp. "A device for every occasion."

"Wouldn't happen to have a hot dog in there, would you?" joked Sam. "I'm starving."

"Me too," agreed the Doctor, laughing.

Mrs. Moore shook her head, laughing along with them. "Of all the things to wish for: mechanically recovered meat."

"I know. It's the Cyberman of food, but it's tasty," agreed the Doctor.

"Especially with chili and cheese smeared on top," Sam reminisced.

"Oh, stop that, you're making it worse," said the Doctor, rubbing his tummy. "Now…let's see where we are."

Sam shined his head lamp down the hall…and jumped.

Lining the wall were Cybermen. They didn't react at all to the intruders. "Already converted, just put on ice," said the Doctor, tapping on the metal face plating of one of them. "Come on. Let's go slowly. Keep an eye out for trip systems."

As they walked along the narrow corridors, keeping one uneasy eye on the sleeping Cybermen, Sam asked Mrs. Moore, "How did you get into this, then, rattling along with the Preachers?"

"Oh, I used to be ordinary," she answered. "Worked at Cybus Industries, nine to five, till one day, I find something I'm not supposed to. A file on the mainframe. All I did was read it. Then suddenly I've got men with guns knocking in the middle of the night. Life on the run. Then I found the Preachers. They needed a techie, so I just sat down and taught myself everything."

"What about Mr. Moore?" the Doctor asked.

"Well, he's not called Moore ," said Mrs. Moore. "I got that from a book, 'Mrs. Moore'. It's safer not to use real names. But he thinks I'm dead. It was the only way to keep him safe. Him and the kids. What about you two? Got any family, or…?"

"Not me, mum," said Sam. "Foster child."

"And you, Doctor?"

"Oh, who needs family?" shrugged the Doctor. "We've got the whole world on our shoulders."

"It's really just the two of us," said Sam. "All we've got is each other."

In the dark, the Doctor hid a smile. "Go on, then, Mrs. Moore. What's your real name?"

She smiled. "Angela Price. Don't tell a soul."

"Not a word," replied the Doctor.

"I know this is going to be hard to believe, Doctor, but for once, I mean you no harm," said the Master, as the latest incarnation, the blonde cricket player, of his oldest rival approached, leaving behind his two companions at the moment, the Australian and a girl with dark curls who the Master vaguely recognized as the Doctor's own granddaughter, Susan.

"Like Alice, I always try to believe three impossible things before breakfast," said the Doctor, smiling a smile the Master knew wasn't sincere. "Go on."

"I've been sent by the High Council to help you," the Master stated.

"Have you, now?" the Doctor said, raising an eyebrow. "And what exactly did they offer you in return?

"You wound me, my dear Doctor. To assume that I would have to be bribed to give my assistance to an old friend."

"If you truly are an old friend, then you know that I know you too well to think you'd come here out of the goodness-" Here, the Doctor stifled a derisive laugh. "-of your heart. If you really were sent by the Council at all."

Suddenly, out of the corner of one eye, Sam thought he saw one of the Cybermen flinch. "Doctor, did that one just move?"

"It's just the torchlight. Keep going, come on."

Suddenly, the Cyberman in front of the Doctor turned its head to look at them. "They're waking up. Run!" yelled the Doctor.

"Be reasonable, Doctor," said the Master coolly.

"I am. I listened," said the ice prince.

The Master, tiring of the Doctor's insolence, when all he was doing was trying to help (this time), pulled out his TCE from the inner folds of his cloak. "As you see, I'm armed. I could easily kill you if I wanted to."

"And not humiliate me first? Oh, that's not your style at all," the Doctor shot back.

The Master next pulled out a small, yoyo-looking device. "I also have a recall device that will take me back to the conference room in the heart of the Capitol."

"So you say," said the Doctor dryly. "I would prefer more positive proof of your credentials."

The Master looked cross. "One of your other selves took it from me."

"Do you expect me to believe the fantastic tale you've just told?" the Doctor exclaimed.

"Doctor, look out!" the Australian girl cried from above the valley. "Cybermen!"

The three of them raced along the narrow corridor, as the Cybermen started waking up and falling in line behind them. At the end of the hallway, they reached a ladder leading up to a trapdoor in the ceiling. Sam barely made it through, the Cybermen right on his heels. The Doctor slammed the door shut on them and sealed the bulkhead with his sonic screwdriver.

"Oh, good team, Mrs. Moore, Sam," he said, grinning as he slipped his sonic back in his pocket.

"Go back!" the Doctor cried up to his associates. As the girls ran away, the Cybermen circled around the two Time Lords.

The Doctor stood at the Master's right, their arms barely brushing. Putting his hands in his pockets, the Doctor turned to the Master and said, almost pleasantly, "After you."

With a grin that lasted about a microsecond, the Master took off running, the Doctor at his heels.

"HALT! HALT! OR YOU WILL BE DESTROYED!" one of the Cybermen cried. He fired his gun and narrowly missed the Time Lords. Instead, his blast hit a large stone, causing it to break up into smaller chunks that flew everywhere, including right into the Master's skull, because he felt a sharp pain on his forehead, and then blacked out.

When he awoke, the Cybermen were standing around him, and the Doctor and the recall device were gone.

"This is not the Doctor," stated one of the Cybermen.

"Take him," commanded the Cyberleader.

Fine. If the Doctor wanted to spurn his goodwill and leave him to die, then two could play at the backstabbing game. The Master got to his feet and said to the Cybermen pleasantly, "Ah! I've been looking for you."

"Kill him!" ordered the Cyberleader.

The Master put up his hands in surrender. "I'm here as your friend," he explained.

"Who are you?" questioned the Cyberleader.

The man in black bowed. "I am the Master, and your loyal servant."

Chapter 34: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 14

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Age Of Steel" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: May 20, 2006 (2/2).
Contains scenes from The Five Doctors by Terrence Dicks, original air date: November 2, 1983.

Chapter Text

The trio were congratulating themselves on a narrow escape, when all of a sudden, they turned around to find a Cyberman looming over them.

"Bloody terrific," sighed Sam.

"You are not upgraded," said the Cyberman.

"Yeah?" Mrs. Moore pulled a soup can-sized metal cylinder out of her bag of tricks. "Well, upgrade this." She lobbed it at the monster, which hit it square on the chest and stuck there. A surge of energy came out of the cylinder and zapped the Cyberman, causing it to convulse and fall down.

Sam applauded. "What was that?" exclaimed the Doctor.

"Electromagnetic bomb," said Mrs. Moore smugly. "Takes out computers. I figured it might take out a Cybersuit."

"You figured right," said the Doctor, kneeling down on the ground by the fallen Cyberman. "Now, let's take a look. Know your enemy." He pulled out his screwdriver and used it to unscrew the Cyberman's chestpiece. "There's a logo on the front. Lumic's turned them into a brand. Heart of steel, but look." The Doctor removed the piece to reveal a small hole into the monster's inner working. There were strange strands of a gooey, white, jelly like substance.

"What is it?" Sam asked. Then, he had a realization. "Oh God. Don't tell me it's…is it?"

"Shove a human, essentially a big sack of skin, inside a suit of metal…skin has to go somewhere," said the Doctor. He poked a finger at the goo.

"Stop that!" said Sam, slapping his hand away.

"Oh, but look," said the Doctor, indicating to a small silicon chip in the corner. "Emotional inhibitor. Stops them feeling anything."

"But why?" Mrs. Moore asked.

"Because it's still got a human brain," said the Doctor. "Imagine its reaction, if it could see what it had turned into…"

The Master watched from the shadows as the old man threw a coin at the electrified checkerboard floor. The coin was immediately zapped. The Master smiled to himself, in spite of the pain that was threatening to seize his heart again. He may be much, much older, but he'd know that man anywhere.

"Diabolical ingenuity!" remarked Theta, after throwing another coin. "Nothing happens until you reach the fifth row, half way, and then the entire board becomes a death trap."

"Our ancestors had such a wonderful sense of humor," said the Master, revealing himself from the shadows.

The first, the original, Doctor turned around. The Master watched the wizened blue eyes widen slightly in recognition, if only for a microsecond. Then, they turned cold and impassive. "Do I know you, young man?" he asked, pretending not to recognize his old best friend.

Fine, "Doctor". If you wanted to play the ignorant, the Master could play that game too. "Believe it or not, we were at the Academy together," he said vaguely.

"What do you want?" asked that Tegan girl, who was of course with him.

"To help," replied the Master.

Tegan let out a humorless bark of laughter. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all day."

"Believe what you like, I should advise you to hide," said the Master. "I've got very suspicious allies close behind me."

"Allies?" Suddenly, the sound of the Cybermen came from the round the corner. "Come on!" Tegan exclaimed, taking the Doctor's arm and dragging him out of sight.

As she did so, Theta and the Master simultaneously looked into each other's eyes. Theta let slip a distant, mournful look. Oh, Kos. Where did you go so wrong?

The Master found himself mentally ebbing away from that. In that one, tiny moment, the Master saw himself reflected in the old man's eyes. And he didn't recognize what he saw: a monster.

Maybe that was what drove him to betray the Cybermen.

"They'd go insane," said Sam sadly.

"Yes," said the Doctor. "Exactly."

"So they cut out the one thing that made them human," said Mrs. Moore.

"Because they have to," said the Doctor.

"Why…am I…cold?" groaned the Cyberman suddenly.

"Oh my God, he's still alive," said Mrs. Moore, eyes widening with fear.

"And it can feel," said Sam.

"We broke the inhibitor," said the Doctor. He looked down at the Cyberman. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Why…so…cold?"

"Can you remember your name?" the Doctor asked.

"Sally…Sally Phelan."

Mrs. Moore looked stunned. "You're a woman?"

"Where's Gareth?"

"Who's Gareth?" asked Sam.

"He can't see me…it's unlucky, the night before."

Sam felt saddened. "You're getting married."

"I'm cold…I'm so cold."

"It's alright," said the Doctor, putting the tip of his screwdriver into her chest cavity. "You sleep now, Sally. Just go to sleep."

He turned the machine off, and the Cyberwoman fell asleep forever.

"Sally Phelan didn't die for nothing," said the Doctor quietly. "Because that's the key. The emotional inhibitor. If we could find the code behind it, the cancellation code, then feed it throughout the system into every Cyberman's head, they'd realize what they are."

"And what happens then?" Sam asked.

"I think it would kill them. Could we do that?" the Doctor asked.

"We've got to," Mrs. Moore decided. "Before they kill everyone else. There's no choice, Doctor. It's got to be done."

The all nodded. Mrs. Moore stood up. She didn't see the Cyberman standing behind her.

"Mrs. Moore, look out!" cried Sam.

Mrs. Moore screamed as the Cyberman grabbed her by her shoulders and electrocuted her. She fell on the floor, dead. "No, no, you didn't have to kill her!" exclaimed the Doctor.

"Sensors detect a binary vascular system. You are an unknown upgrade. You will be taken for analysis," said the Cyberman, as two more joined and surrounded them. "Your partner will be deleted."

"Sam, run!" the Doctor exclaimed.

Sam didn't want to leave the Doctor, but he had no choice. He ducked under the outstretched arms of the Cyberman to his right and raced down the corridor.

"Stop him," ordered the Cyberman.

Sam dashed away as fast as he could, breathing hard, blood pounding in his ears. He could hear the heavy footfalls of the bionic men behind him, and ran from them as hard as he could.

After what seemed like hours of running and hiding, Sam met up with Jake and Mickey inside some sort of control room. "Oi, Harry! No, wait, you're the other one," said Jake. "Makes things real difficult, you know that?"

"Enough," said Harry, coming around the corner. He looked at his twin. "Is the Doctor with you?"

"No," gasped Sam. "The Cybermen took him."

"Bloody brilliant," grumbled Harry. "And Mrs. Moore?"

Sam looked down. "Gone. They killed her."

Harry slammed his fist against the desk. "Dammit!" he growled. "Alright…let's just find the transmitter controls and shut this thing down."

"They're here," said Mickey, looking at a steel box mounted on the wall. "But they're sealed up tight in there. We'd need an oxyacetylene torch or something."

At that moment, the Cybermen burst in. "There he is."

"Oh, and you brought the troops straight to us! You're a bloody genius, you are!" exclaimed Harry, smacking Sam in the head.

"Wait! I have an idea." Sam whistled to the Cyberman. "Oi! You want us? Come get us."

The head Cyberman tromped over. It raised its fist and prepared to seize Sam, but he jumped out of the way at the last moment. The Cyberman instead smashed the control box, electrocuting itself and disabling the earpieces.

Harry looked at Sam, mildly impressed. "Not bad, chavo."

"Oi? 'Chavo'? What about you, Bond wanna be?" Sam tossed back, grinning.

"Am I the only one finding this really freaky?" Jake muttered to Mickey, looking from one Harry/Sam to the other.

"Not in the slightest," Mickey replied.

"Okay," said Harry. "That's taken care of. Now all we have to do is take out the Cybers, and we're done here."

"And find the Doctor," added Sam.

"Right. Now, Mick, can you hack the security cams and find the Doctor?"

"Already doing it," said Mickey, at the computer. "He's in Lumic's office, with the Tylers. He's alive."

"Knew he would be," said Sam, grinning at the image. "Nothing kills that old weasel."

"The hell is that thing?" Harry asked, pointing to a huge mass of machinery in the corner. "Mickey, turn on the sound."

Mickey punched in a few buttons on the keyboard, and then they heard through the speakers: "I will bring peace to the world. Everlasting peace. And unity. And uniformity."

"And imagination?" The Doctor shot back. "What about that? The one thing that led you here, imagination, you're killing it dead!"

"What is your name?" the Cyberleader asked.

"I'm the Doctor," he declared.

"A redundant title. Doctors need not exist. Cybermen never sicken."

"Yeah, but that's it. That's exactly the point!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Oh, Lumic, you're a clever man. I'd call you a genius, except I'm in the room. But everything you've invented, you did to fight your sickness. And that's brilliant. That is so human. But once you get rid of sickness and mortality, then what's there to strive for, eh? The Cybermen won't advance. You'll just stop. You'll stay like this forever. A metal Earth with metal men and metal thoughts, lacking the one thing that makes this planet so alive. People. Ordinary, stupid, brilliant people."

"You are proud of your emotions."

"Oh, yes," said the Doctor.

"Then tell me, Doctor. Have you known grief, and rage, and pain?"

The Doctor paused, and suddenly, even through the pixelation of the CCTV, Sam could see the old man behind those young, fresh, brown cow eyes. "Yes," said the Doctor. "Yes, I have."

"And they hurt?"

"Oh, yes," said the Doctor.

"I could set you free. Would you not want that? A life without pain?"

"You might as well kill me," said the Doctor. "Because life is nothing without pain or loss…or love."

Here they were, at the end of the Game. The Master watched as the Doctors sorted out Rassilon's puzzle, and he/they had done very well. The current one, the blonde one with the ridiculous stalk of celery on his coat, was absent, but there was the rude dandy who had stolen his Seal, along with a short one with dark hair and shabby clothes—the Second Doctor. And of course, Theta.

"Whoever takes the ring from Rassilon's hand and puts it on shall get the reward he seeks," the Dandy was saying.

"What reward?" asked the girl who had come in with the Dandy. The Master thought he had heard the Doctor call her "Sarah Jane".

"Immortality," replied Theta.

"What, live forever? Never die?" asked Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, who had come with the Second Doctor, the Hobo Clown.

"That is what the word means, young man," replied Theta.

"But that's impossible," said Sarah Jane, and the Master had to shake his head at the closemindedness of these apes.

"Apparently not," replied the Dandy.

"It seems Rassilon possesses it now, and is willing to share it with whoever takes the ring," declared the Hobo.

"Thank you, gentlemen, that is exactly what I needed to know," said the Master, sweeping out of the shadows, making his presence known. "I came here to help you. A little unwillingly, but I came. My services were scorned, my help refused. Now I shall help myself to immortality."

"Out of the question," decreed Theta.

"You're hardly a suitable candidate," sneered the Dandy.

"For anything," added the Hobo.

The Master ignored the pang in his heart as the amalgamation of his old friend ganged up on him. He drew his TCE on the three of him. "The decision is scarcely yours. Killing you once was never enough for me, Doctor. How, how gratifying to do it three times over!"

"Nice to see you again," exclaimed the Brigadier from behind him, and he barely had time to turn around and look before being knocked out cold. Again.

"Then I take that option," the Cyber Controller was saying.

"It's not yours to take," shouted the Doctor. "You're a Cyber Controller. You don't control me or anything with blood in its heart!"

"You have no means of stopping me. I have an army. A species of my own."

The Doctor shook his head in exasperation. "You just don't get it, do you? An army's nothing. Because those ordinary people, they're the key. The most ordinary person could change the world. Anyone can be a lion, or a tiger…or a Wolf."

Sam looked up in surprise at the word.

"All they'd have to do is enter the right numbers, the right codes…," the Doctor continued. "Say for example, the code for the emotional inhibitor. The code right in front of him."

Sam gasped.

"Computers are so simple these days, even an animal like a Wolf could use it. Could find something encrypted in the Lumic Family Database, under Binary…what was it again, Pete?"

"Binary Nine," Pete Tyler promptly replied.

"Right, yeah, Binary Nine," said the Doctor. "A Wolf could find that code. Cancellation code. Because the thing about Wolves are, is that they're incredibly loyal. You could put your faith in a Wolf. They never ever let you down. They never give up until they've saved the day…"

"What's he on about, 'wolves'?" said Harry.

Sam grinned at him. "Hand me that keyboard. Sam Tyler, Bad Wolf."

As the Doctor continued to babble on, Sam furiously typed at the keyboard. Mickey helped him with the hacking a bit, but Sam found he was naturally good with computers anyway. "Got it!" Sam exclaimed. "6-8-7-9-7-6-0! If I ever get out of the world saving biz, I should go pro."

"Yeah, yeah, pat yourself on the back later," said Harry. "What now?"

"People always tell me I talk too much," the Doctor was saying the screen. "Good thing I have this unlimited minutes deal on my mobile." He whipped out Sam's cellular.

"He wants us to text him the code!" said Sam. "Quick, someone, give me your phone."

Harry handed his over, and Sam frantically texted the numbers to his cell. On screen, the phone in the Doctor's hand bleeped. "Ooh, I've got mail!" he said. "Here, I'll forward the message to you all-like this." He plugged Sam's phone into the mainframe.

Suddenly, there was a crackle of energy in all the Cybermen, and they grabbed their heads as their emotional inhibitors broke. Lumic was defeated.

"It worked!" Harry cried. "We did it!" The foursome cheered and hugged and high-fived.

"Doctor!" cried Sam, rushing toward the skinny brunette, hugging him tightly. "Oh, thank God. I thought we were all goners!"

"Nah, not me," said the Doctor, grinning. "I had faith in my Wolf."

Sam was glad it was dark so he could hide his blush.

"Mum! Dad!" A blonde girl in pink came running out of the crowds towards the Tylers.

"Rose!" cried Jackie as she and her husband gratefully hugged their daughter. "Oh, thank God! I thought you were dead!" She burst into grateful tears.

Pete turned to the Doctor, Sam, and the rest of the Preachers. "Thank you," he said hoarsely, as if trying to hold back tears. "You saved all our lives. If there's anything we can do for you…"

"Well," said the Doctor. "If you've a bedroom or two to spare at that mansion of yours, our ship's still out of order…"

The next morning, the Tylers and the Preachers said goodbye to Sam and the Doctor as they prepared to board the newly healed TARDIS. "Are you sure you won't stay, Doctor?" said Pete. "We might need you again."

"I can't," said the Doctor, shaking his head. "We have our own universe to protect. Besides…" He looked around at Pete, Jackie, Rose, Harry, Jake, and Mickey. "It seems this world already has a team of defenders." The Doctor smiled and headed inside.

Harry stood beside Sam and watched the Doctor go. He whistled. "Smart…funny…and a nice little bum too. You're a lucky man, Tyler."

Sam rolled his eyes. "We are not together!"

"Oh trust me, you are," said Harry, smirking. "Hang on to him, Sam. He's a great man."

"Yeah," agreed Sam. He smiled. "He is." He shook his look alike's hand. "Maybe we'll meet again someday. In any case, it was an honor to meet you, Harry…what was your last name again?"

"Saxon," said Harry, shaking his hand. "Harold Saxon."

"Well, it was an honor to meet you, Harold Saxon," said Sam, grinning. He turned and headed inside the TARDIS.

The Doctor was leaning on the console. "So…not staying?"

"No," said Sam, confused. "Why would I?"

"Well, your family's here," said the Doctor.

Sam shook his head. "No. They're not. They're nice people and all, but they're not my family." He smiled at the Doctor. "Besides, I think one Sam Tyler's enough for a universe, don't you?"

The Doctor laughed and turned to the controls. As he did so, Sam noticed something: Harry was right.

The Doctor did have a nice bum.

Chapter 35: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 15

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Idiot's Lantern" by Mark Gatiss, original air date: May 27, 2006.

Chapter Text

Sam Tyler, the Doctor thought to himself one day, was one of the best things that had ever happened to him. Having him around numbed the pain and loneliness of being the last Time Lord in existence. Sam was like a comet soaring over a night sky, illuminating everything for the Doctor. And it was good.

But the Doctor did worry about Sam sometimes. He seemed distracted on occasion, staring off into space. One day, the Doctor caught Sam tapping out a rhythm with his fingers. "Sam? You alright?"

"What?" Sam looked up confusedly. The tapping stopped. "Oh…yeah. I'm fine."

"You were a million miles away," said the Doctor. "Which isn't far, in the TARDIS, but…still."

"Oh, no, no." Sam waved a hand at him. "Everything's fine."

So there were those instances. But otherwise, life was good for him. The Doctor, in the TARDIS, with Sam Tyler.

Very good.

They had landed in New York, approximately in 1958. The Doctor followed Sam out of the TARDIS, his companion sporting his old leather jacket over a white tee, blue jeans, and black combat boots. "Do you like it?" asked Sam. "I'm the Fonz! Ayyyy." He shot pistol fingers at the Doctor.

"I like it," said the Doctor, grinning. He was still in his usual brown pinstripe suit, but he had combed his hair back into a Teddy boy. "That jacket looks really good on you. You should keep it."

"You think? Well, maybe. Anyway, I figured we'd be going for more Vegas-era," said Sam, looking around the scene. "You know, white flares, chest hair, the jelly gut."

"You're kidding, aren't you?" said the Doctor, "You want to see Elvis, this is the time you shoot for. The time before burgers, when they called him "the Pelvis" and he still had a waist." He heard Sam laugh as he ducked inside the TARDIS. He strapped on a white helmet and mounted the moped he'd dug out for the occasion. "What's more, you see him in style!" He revved the engine and drove the bike out onto the street.

Sam laughed some more. "Where the hell did you get that?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Ah, it's the TARDIS. What can I say?" He tossed Sam a black helmet and patted the back of his seat. "Hop on."

"What? With you?" Sam's cheeks turned pink. "Er, don't you think that'll look a little…strange?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Dunno. Do you care?"

Sam hesitated. "No," he finally said, putting on the helmet. He carefully swung a leg over the bike and settled himself behind the Doctor. He could feel the warmth of the other's man chest through the fabric of his suit.

The Doctor turned and grinned at him. "You goin' my way, man?"

Sam rolled his eyes, but the Doctor saw that he was still blushing. "Yeah, yeah, let's go, daddy-o." The Doctor laughed and stepped on the gas. Sam instinctive grabbed his shoulders as they took off, and the Doctor noted that he didn't let go.

"So, where are we off to?" Sam called into his ear.

"Ed Sullivan TV Studios," the Doctor called back. "Elvis did "Hound Dog" on one of the shows. There were loads of complaints. Bit of luck, we'll just catch it."

"Never been to New York before," commented Sam. "Well, not the original, anyway." He grinned at him, and the Doctor knew they were both thinking of New Earth, their first trip together with the Doctor in this body.

"It's a great place, Sam, ol' boy," said the Doctor. "I'll be sure to bring you again some time." Suddenly, the Doctor had to slam on the brakes on a red double decker bus passed by.

"What's that doing here?" the Doctor wondered aloud.

"Hey, Doctor, look." Sam pointed to a red phone booth sitting on the sidewalk. Then they noticed that there were banners and Union Jacks hanging all around.

Sam chortled. "Dig that New York vibe, man."

"Well, this could still be New York," the Doctor reasoned, looking around at the flags in confusion. "I mean, this looks like New York to me. Sort of London-y New York, mind…"

"What are all the flags for?" Sam asked.

"Dunno," said the Doctor, pulling his bike over and turning it off. "Let's ask these gents here."

There were several men gathered around a van, unloading something from its back end. The Doctor and Sam walked over just in time to overhear a man in a tan jacket say, "There you go, sir, all wired up for the great occasion."

"'The great occasion'? What do you mean?" the Doctor asked him.

"Where've you been livin', out in the colonies?" said the man, closing his back doors. "Coronation, o' course."

"And what coronation is that, then?" the Doctor said.

The man stared at him in disbelief. "What do you mean? The coronation."

Sam lightly smacked the back of his head. "The Queen's, idiot. Queen Elizabeth."

"Oh! Is this 1953?" The Doctor said, brightening.

The man chuckled. "Last time I checked."

Sam shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Call yourself a Time Lord."

"Time for a lovely bit of pomp and circumstance, what we do best," continued the man, smiling.

Sam was looking around at all the antennae on the roofs and chimneys on the houses. "Look at all the TV aerials," he said. "Looks like everyone's got one. That's weird. I read that tellies were so rare they all had to pile into one house."

"Not around here, son," said the man proudly. "Magpie's Marvelous Tellies, only five quid a pop." He patted the side of his van.

"Oh, but this is a brilliant year!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Classic! Technicolor, Everest climbed, everything off the ration. The nation throwing off the shadows of war and looking forward to a happier, brighter future," he said, imitating Winston Churchill.

Suddenly, they heard a scream. "Someone help me, please! Ted!" a woman cried.

"What were you saying?" Sam asked him.

Down the street, there was a black van, still running, parked outside a house. Two men were loading something into it, wrapped up in a blanket. The Doctor noted, uncomfortably, that it was human shaped. An anguished-looking woman stood in the doorway of the house, yelling, "He's my husband! Leave him alone, please!"

The Doctor and Sam rushed down there. "What's going on?" demanded the Doctor. The two men ignored him and the woman's pleas as they tossed the "package" inside their car. "Oi, what are you doing?!" the Doctor shouted.

"Police business, sir, now get out of the way," commanded one of the men.

A boy from the house across the street was running over to investigate as well. "Who did they take?" Sam asked. "Do you know him?"

The boy looked at the "package", then at the desperate woman. "Must be Mister Gallagher," he said, also looking unhappy. He looked at them as the men got inside their car and left. "It's happening all over the place…they're turning into monsters."

"Tommy!" The three of them looked up to see a beefy man with a black mustache glaring at the boy from the stoop of the boy's house. "Not one word! Get inside now," he ordered.

Tommy looked nervous. "Sorry," he said. "Better do what he says." He turned and dashed inside.

The Doctor watched the car drive away. "C'mon, Sam! After 'em!"

They hopped back on the bike and chased after the car. But eventually, the policemen shook them off. "Men in black?" the Doctor wondered out loud. "Vanishing police cars? This is Churchill's England, not Stalin's Russia!"

The Doctor should have never left Sam alone.

He stared disheartenedly at the figure in the boots, jeans, white tee, and leather jacket, his leather jacket. The heart shaped face, the unkempt light brown hair…

But no face. Those friendly hazel eyes, that disarming grin…it was gone. He might as well have been one of those posable mannequins artists use to practice sketching figures.

"Sam," the Doctor whispered.

"You know him?" Detective Inspector Bishop asked.

"Know him? He…" The Doctor didn't know what to say.

The person who had once been Sam Tyler just stood there, silent to the bone, his face just a plain scape of flesh. The Doctor's hearts beat loudly in his ears. Was Sam aware of what was going on right now? How did he feel? Frightened? Alone? Cold? Dark? Could he feel his Doctor there in front of him? Was he even…alive?

Oh, Sam, thought the Doctor. Why did it have to be you? I'm so sorry.

"They found 'im in the street, apparently, in Leichster Square, abandoned," the Doctor vaguely heard the officers saying behind his back. They said some other stuff, the Doctor caught something mentioned about "Torchwood", or something of that nature, but he didn't really care about anything else.

"They did what?" the Doctor said.

"I'm sorry?"

"They left him where?" said the Doctor, gritting his teeth.

"Just…in the street," said the DI.

"In the street," repeated the Doctor slowly, his voice dangerously quiet. "They left him in the street. They took his face, and just chucked him out and left him in the street. And as a result, that makes things simple, very, very, simple. Do you know why?" he asked, turning around and taking off his spectacles. "Because now, Detective Inspector Bishop, there is no power on this Earth that can stop me! Come on!" he shouted, charging out the door.

He pulled up a bunch of faces on the television sets in Magpie's shop. A dozen different faces, stolen from the poor victims.

The boy, Tommy, stared at one toward the center, of a wizened old lady, clearly crying out "Help me". But the boxes were silent, to where no one could hear their pleas. "Gran?" he said.

The Doctor spotted a familiar face on one box near the floor. It was heart shaped, and it had soulful, fearful eyes seeming to stare out at him. It was Sam, and there was only one word on his scared lips.

Doctor.

He knelt down and touched the set soothingly, as if it were the real man, as if he could actually comfort him. "I'm on my way," he whispered.

After they defeated the evil Wire, the Doctor and Tommy rushed out into the street to see that the faceless individuals that the police had rounded up had been released, their souls re-intact. Among them was Tommy's gran, and a certain man in a leather jacket.

The Doctor smiled so hard, he thought his face would crack, at the sight of Sam standing there, alive and well, grinning right back at him. Right now, the whole country of England was rejoicing the advent of their new Queen. But the Doctor was joyous for a whole different reason.

The moment their eyes connected, Sam and the Doctor ran at each other, hugging tightly, as if they hadn't seen one another in centuries. And for the Doctor, that's what it felt like.

"Ah, good to be home, yeah?" said the Doctor, when they went back to the TARDIS.

"Definitely," agreed Sam, grinning.

"So, back there…you didn't get all…weird about hugging another man in public," the Doctor mentioned casually.

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, well…it's a new world. New monarch, new age. In about forty or fifty years, things on this planet are gonna change." He smiled. "I guess I'm just gettin' a head start."

The Doctor grinned. "You know, you never cease to amaze me, Sam Tyler. That's what I love about you."

Sam paused at that last sentence for a moment, then smiled cautiously. "Well…thanks, Doctor. You're pretty amazing yourself."

"Well, then, I guess that's why we make such a great team," said the Doctor, as he opened the door to the TARDIS. "Just two brilliant people, exploring the universe together."

"And that's the way it should be."

Things for the Doctor and Sam were good. But the Doctor noticed that with every adventure, each passing day, the presence of this funny little human was stirring things deep inside him. Things, feelings, that hadn't seen the light of day...for a very, very long time.

And the Doctor didn't quite know how to feel about that.

Chapter 36: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 16

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Impossible Planet" and "The Satan Pit" by Matt Jones, original air date: June 3 and 10, 2006.

Chapter Text

The Doctor had really flubbed up this time. He'd trapped himself, and more importantly, Sam, on this impossible planet. "I'm so sorry," he murmured to his companion.

Sam faked a smile and shrugged. "Don't worry about me, mate."

Then, suddenly, the station shook. Sam gave the Doctor an uneasy look out of the corner of his eye. "Er…maybe you should worry about me a little."

The Doctor smiled at him sadly. Sam hesitantly went in for a hug, which the Doctor gladly reciprocated. He could feel Sam's heart beat against his chest, smell the woodsy, human scent of his hair. It felt good and reassuring.

Because sometimes, even the Oncoming Storm needs someone.

They were sitting in the main area, across from each other, at a dinner table. The Doctor was staring intently at the black hole above them. Sam sighed. "I've seen films and things," he said. "They say black holes are like gateways to another universe."

"Not that one. It just eats," said the Doctor.

"Long way from home," Sam commented.

The Doctor looked at him from across the table. Then he pointed to the sky. "Go that way. Turn right, keep going for about…five hundred years, and you'll reach the Earth."

Sam gave out a humorless chuckle. Then he thought of something. He pulled out his phone and checked it. "No signal. That's the first time we've gone out of range…" He looked at the Doctor. "We're really stuck. Aren't we?"

The Doctor slowly nodded.

Sam nodded back, resolutely. "Well, it could be worse. This lot said they'd give us a lift."

"And then what?" the Doctor asked.

Sam shrugged. "Dunno. Find a planet, get a job, live a life. Same as the rest of the universe, eh?"

"I'd have to settle down," the Doctor realized. Sam laughed quietly at him. "Get a house or something. A proper house with, with doors and things. Carpets. Me, living in a house! Now that, that is terrifying."

"You'd have to get a mortgage," teased Sam.

"No!"

"Oh, yes!"

"I'm dying!" said the Doctor, holding his hands up. "That's it. I'm dying. It is all over."

"What about me? I'd have to get one, too," said Sam. "Have to get a job, and God knows I haven't got any skills. I'm not smart or anything."

"Oh, shut up, you're brilliant," said the Doctor.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

Sam shook his head, smiling. "I don't know…but, you know…it could be easier on both of us…if we…"

The Doctor looked at him. "What?"

"Oh, you know…" Sam looked at his lap. "Lived…with each other. I mean, like, together. I mean, you know, not together together-"

"No."

"Definitely not."

"Never."

Sam coughed awkwardly. "But it might be fun…having a roommate. Never had a proper one before."

"I did, once," said the Doctor, before he knew what he was even saying.

Sam looked up quickly. "You did?"

"Er, yeah," said the Doctor. "Long time ago. When I was in school."

"What was his name?" asked Sam.

The Doctor looked off into the distance. Remembering…longing. "It doesn't matter. It was a long time ago," he said softly. "In any case…he's long gone."

Sam cautiously reached out and touched his hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

The Doctor turned back and smiled at Sam. "S'okay. Got you now anyway."

Sam was glad of the reddish light of the room, because he felt his cheeks heat up. He pulled his hand away. "Yeah, well…we're a team. We should stick together."

"Not stuck here, though," said the Doctor.

"Yeah, but stuck with you?" Sam shrugged awkwardly. "That's not so bad."

"Yeah?" said the Doctor, surprised.

Sam looked at him with serious hazel eyes. "Yes."

The drilling stopped. They'd reached Point Zero.

The Doctor volunteered to go with Ida to explore the planet outside. "Orange isn't a bad color on you," joked Sam as the Doctor, in a space suit, prepared to load the lift. "But I think I like the brown better…I want that spacesuit back in one piece, you got that?"

The Doctor saluted. "Yes, sir," he joked back, putting on his helmet.

"It's funny…" said Sam. "People back home think that space travel's going to be all whizzing about and teleports and anti gravity. But it's not. It's hard. It's really hard."

The Doctor smiled at him through the plastic guard of his helmet. "I'll see you later."

Sam grinned, pulling the Doctor into an unexpected (but very welcome) hug. "Not if I see you first."

The Doctor prepared to undo his clip, to fall into the devil's pit. He didn't know how far down it was. It could be five feet, it could be five miles. It was too dark to see.

"Ida," he said. "If they get back in touch…if you talk to Sam… just tell him…tell him I…"

The Doctor sighed. "Oh, he knows."

When the Doctor reached the bottom of the pit, he found a great horned beast, all chained up. "You were imprisoned, long time ago," the Doctor reasoned. "Before the universe, after, sideways, in between, doesn't matter. The prison is perfect. It's absolute, it's eternal. Oh, yes! Open the prison, the gravity field collapses. This planet falls into the black hole! You escape, you die. Brilliant! But that's just the body. The body is trapped, that's all. The devil is an idea. In all those civilizations, just an idea. But an idea is hard to kill. An idea could escape. The mind. The mind of the great Beast. The mind can escape! Oh, but that's it! You didn't give me air, your jailers did. They set this up all those years ago! They need me alive, because if you're escaping, then I've got to stop you. If I destroy your prison, your body is destroyed. Your mind with it!"

The Doctor grabbed up a rock from the ground to smash the urns. Then, he paused. He dropped the rock.

"But then you're clever enough to use this whole system against me," he said. "If I destroy this planet, I destroy the gravity field. The rocket. The rocket loses protection and falls into the black hole."

The Doctor swallowed. He felt his hearts drop. "I have to sacrifice Sam."

He turned around and looked at the beast. "So, that's the trap. Or the test, or the final judgment, I don't know. But if I kill you, I kill him. Except that implies in this big grand scheme of gods and devils that he's just a victim. But I've seen a lot of this universe. I've seen fake gods and bad gods and demi-gods and would-be gods, and out of all that, out of that whole pantheon, if I believe in one thing...just one thing."

The Doctor took a deep breath. "I believe in him," he said.

And then he smashed the urn.

When the Doctor saw Sam again, he hugged him so tightly, he thought his bones would splinter. He never wanted to let go.

"Urgh…Doctor? Um, a little tight!" gasped Sam. The Doctor loosened his grip, but didn't let go of the other man. Not for a moment. "Got quite a grip there, skinny bones," Sam teased.

The Doctor grinned and ruffled his scruffy brown hair. "You did it! Told you you were brilliant!"

"Oi, you did it too," laughed Sam. "S'like I said, Doctor: we're a team."

"But Doctor," said Ida over the comm. "You never said…who are you two?"

"Oh…" The Doctor grinned at Sam. "The stuff of legend."

Chapter 37: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 17

Notes:

Chapter based on "Fear Her" by Matthew Graham, original air date: June 24, 2006*.
*"Love And Monsters" was skipped.

Chapter Text

The Doctor opened the door of the TARDIS and stepped out. Or tried to, anyway, but found himself nose to nose with the side of a blue cargo container. "Ah," he said.

"Problem, Doctor?" Sam asked as the Doctor retreated back inside.

"Oh, just have to turn the TARDIS about 90 degrees to the right," said the Doctor, punching a few button on the console. There was the familiar mechanical wheezing as the machine de-and-rematerialized. "Got us trapped up against a wall."

"Hmm, now there's an interesting idea," Sam mused, grinning to himself.

"What?" the Doctor asked, turning to look at him curiously.

"Huh? Oh, nothing. Anyway, where are we?" Sam asked quickly as he followed the Doctor outside. He spied a Shayne Ward poster on the wall. "Earth, then. Present day?"

"Near future, actually," said the Doctor. "I had a passing fancy, only it didn't pass. It stopped. London, 2012. Thirtieth Olympiad."

Sam looked up and saw an Olympic banner hanging over the street they were standing in. "Alright!" exclaimed Sam. "Now this is what I'm talking about."

"Thought you might like it," the Doctor grinned as they walked down the street together, side by side, the long hem of the Doctor's brown coat flapping in the wind. "Just a couple of boys, getting together for a day of sport. I've always loved the Olympics, ever since the original. Only seems like yesterday a few naked Greek blokes were tossing a discus about, wrestling each other in the sand with crowds stood around baying. No, wait a minute, that was Club Med."

Sam laughed.

"Just in time for the opening doo-dah, ceremony, tonight, I thought you'd like that," the Doctor continued. "Last one they had in London was dynamite. Wembley, 1948. I loved it so much, I went back and watched it all over again. Fella carrying the torch. Lovely chap, what was his name…"

Sam spotted a man standing on the sidewalk, posting a piece of paper on a light pole. As the man walked away, Sam left the Doctor's side and went over to inspect it. "Doctor," he said.

The Doctor wasn't listening. "Did you ever have those little cakes with the crunchy, edible ball bearings? They were brilliant-"

"Doctor, I really think you should look at this!" Sam called.

The Doctor was shaken out of his reverie. "What? Huh?" He came over and joined Sam.

There were two missing child posters tied to the light post.

"What's taking them, do you think?" asked Sam.

"Dunno," said the Doctor, shrugging his bony shoulders. "Children disappear all the time. Sure it's nothing."

"I dunno," said Sam, shaking his head. "Two from the same street? Within…" He consulted the notices. "Two days? Don't you find that a bit odd?"

"Hmm. Now that you say it, it is weird," said the Doctor. He looked around the neighborhood. "Snatching children from a thoroughly ordinary street like this. And why's it so cold? Is someone reducing the temperature?"

Sam shrugged his black hoodie closer to his body. "Why would a person do this?"

"Maybe it's not a person at all," said the Doctor darkly.

Sam and the Doctor had been investigating the neighborhood where children and animals were disappearing as if by magic. Dark magic. The Doctor deduced that they were being transported to somewhere. So the only logical thing to do was to try and find where they were being taken.

Sam had been trying to find where an orange tomcat had been teleported to, when he heard a loud thump coming from a garage, followed by an even bigger thump. "Not gonna open it, not gonna open it…ah, screw it," he said, and opened the garage door.

Suddenly, something flew out at him and knocked him to the ground. It beat at him, like a giant moth's wings against a light fixture.

Sam managed to get a look at it. It was…well. It looked like a giant tumbleweed made out of blackish-grey material.

"What the hell?" Sam muttered, trying to shield his face, torso, and groin from the thing at the same time.

"I got you, I got you! Stay still!" Sam caught sight of something brown and skinny in his peripheral vision. The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and aimed it at the…whatever it was. Suddenly, it shrunk down to slightly smaller than a baseball and landed harmlessly in Sam's hands.

"Okey dokey?" The Doctor asked.

"Yeah," said Sam, accepting the Doctor's outstretched hand. "What is this thing?" he asked, staring at the small ball in his hand.

"Dunno," said the Doctor, taking it from him. He tossed it up in the air, then rapped at it with his knuckles inquisitively. Then he sniffed it. "Smells familiar. Here."

Sam took it and smelled it too. "Yeah. Like…like…wait." He marched over to where a missing poster was hanging on a mailbox, tore it off, and swept the ball across the back of the page. It left a large, silvery-grey marking. "It's graphite," said Sam, tossing the ball back to the Doctor. "It's pencil lead."

"Flying pencil lead attacked you? Why?" said the Doctor, looking at the ball of graphite quizzically. "Well, whatever it is, it's animated by energy. Same energy that's snatching people. That is so dinky! The go anywhere creature. Fits in your pocket, makes friends, impresses the boss, breaks the ice at parties."

"Yeah, but look at the shape," said Sam. "Doesn't it look like when you write something, then scratch it out? Like a pencil scribble, but 3D."

"Good point," said the Doctor. "But why would someone generate scribble creatures?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe it was a mistake. Like on a…drawing. Like on a child's drawing," he said slowly, as realization washed over him. "Of course! Who would take children? Another child."

"Oh, ho-ho-ho," the Doctor laughed deeply. "Sam Tyler, you are beautiful."

Sam grinned. "So all we have to do," he continued, "is find the little artist that lives on this street, and we have our suspect."

"And you have an idea?" the Doctor asked.

Sam thought for a moment. "Well…" He turned the flyer over. "This Dale kid. He was taken from this address." He pointed to the last place the child had been seen. "So all we have to do is peruse the houses around there. And I'm willing to bet that the child we're looking for lives right across the street."

"Let's see…that's where that nervous Trish woman lived," said the Doctor.

"Maybe we should pay her a visit."

The Doctor threw an arm around Sam's shoulders. "And you said you weren't brilliant."

"It was elementary, my dear Doctor."

They found Chloe Webber, and talked to the Isolus within her. "How did you know it was so lonely?" Sam asked.

"Fear, loneliness. They're the big ones, Sam," said the Doctor, putting together pieces of the gizmo that would help him locate the Isolus's pod. "Some of the most terrible acts ever committed have been inspired by them. We're not dealing with something that wants to conquer or destroy. There's a lot of things you need to get across this universe. Warp drive, wormhole refractors. You know the thing you need most of all? You need a hand to hold. Because believe me. I know…" The Doctor plugged in one last circuit. "What it's like to travel alone."

The Master knew loneliness.

There was the loneliness Koschei felt before he ever met his best friend Theta Sigma. Then there was the loneliness of being surrounded completely by people, his classmates, but knowing there was none among them who gave a damn about him. But then he made friends with Theta, and Koschei was happier than he'd ever been in his whole life.

"What's wrong?" Thete asked him one day.

"I was just…thinking. Dreading," amended Koschei.

"Dreading what?" asked Theta, grinning. "We're going home for the semester break. No stupid professors, no homework, no exams-"

"No you," said Kos glumly.

Theta smiled sadly and took his hand. "Come home with me then."

"What?" said Kos confusedly.

Theta shrugged. "Sure. Why not? After all, it's about time my parents met the man I'm going to be bonded to someday."

Kos leaned into his love, smiling gratefully. "Alright, I will."

Then, some years later, Theta left him, and the Master felt an empty kind of loneliness. The kind one feels when something or someone they deeply love and need is taken from them. It stayed with him for a hundred years, until Theta returned. But by that time, he was getting married to someone else, someone not Koschei, and the Master's world turned dark and cold, the way it would for someone who didn't have someone to love them. The loneliness ate at him so much, it turned into anger. It only got worse as the Master and the Doctor bitterly fought against each other time and time again.

The worst was when the Master's Time Lord body was dying, and the Doctor didn't even care. Or the endless decades spent in the recesses of the Eye of Harmony in the Doctor's TARDIS, which drove him truly mad. Or maybe it was during the War, when the Master didn't know whether the Doctor was alive or dead. Because damn that cursed Time Lord, after all they had suffered through, the Master still loved him. He needed him.

A cosmos without the Doctor scarcely bore thinking about.

One day, the Master couldn't take it any longer. He threw down his weapon, went to his TARDIS. He pulled out an old watch.

"I'm sorry, Thete," he whispered. "I can't do it anymore."

"That's…so sad," said Sam softly, feeling his heart throb.

The Doctor looked up. He concernedly put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Hey, hey, I'm okay. Don't look so upset. Really, I'm fine."

Sam shook his head slightly. "Oh. Yeah. Of course."

The Doctor smiled at him, then continued his work.

Sam listened desperately through the door as Trish and Chloe cowered from Chloe's nightmare father.

"I'm here, Chloe!" exclaimed Trish. "You're not alone! You'll never be alone again."

Then, the mother began to sing to her daughter, and the beast went away.

Sam sighed with relief.

Sam felt panic when the Isolus took the Doctor. He knew they would succeed, but there was always a part of him that was scared.

It only intensified when the Doctor didn't reappear with the TARDIS or the other children.

"Maybe he's gone somewhere," said Trish, trying to comfort Sam.

Sam looked at his lap sadly. "Who's going to hold his hand now?"

But then Sam saw the skinny idiot running with the Olympic Torch and felt his heart leap-in a good way. The Doctor was alright and all was well.

That didn't stop him from punching him in the arm when he saw him later. Hard.

"Ow!" exclaimed the Doctor.

"What the hell where you thinking? I was worried sick, you bloody idiot!" Sam scolded. He tried to glare at his traveling companion, but his frown was losing to the relieved smile that was trying to invade his face. Finally, he gave up and hugged the Time Lord tightly. "I thought I'd lost you," he muttered.

"Nah, can't get rid of me," laughed the Doctor.

"Good," said Sam. They still weren't pulling apart. "You know," he said, "they keep trying to split us up, but they never will."

"It seems we must always meet again," the Doctor agreed, ruffling Sam's hair.

Sam had to bite back the urge to say, They do say opposites attract. "You and me, Doctor. Until the End of Time."

The Doctor laughed, and before he knew what he was doing, he cupped the other man's face and dropped a brief, friendly kiss on Sam's forehead.

Sam seized up. His face, neck, and ears flushed absolutely scarlet. "Uh…I'm s-sorry," stammered the Doctor.

Sam swallowed and nodded, wordlessly turning around and heading toward the TARDIS.

The Doctor, mentally slapping himself in the face, slowly followed after him, but then, sensed something, and stopped. There was something, something in the air…

A storm approaching.

Chapter 38: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 18

Notes:

Chapter based on "Army Of Ghosts" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: July 1, 2006.

Chapter Text

"The two of you are a well matched pair of pests; you bring nothing but trouble." –The Rani

Sam heard a ring. It was his cell phone. Sam thought that was strange. Annie hadn't called him in months, and she was the only one who ever called him on that phone.

The cell was buried in his duffel bag. Sam had to dig for it, and doing so, knocked a whole bunch of stuff out of it onto the floor. He quickly flipped it open, and said, "Hello? Annie, that you?"

Yes, it's me, said Annie. Um…there's something strange going on here.

"Yeah? What kind of strange?" Sam knelt down to pick up some things that had fallen on the floor. It was clothes, mainly. But then, something that had fallen out of his bag gave him pause.

YOUR kind of strange, said Annie. Can you and the Doctor get down here?

"Er…" Sam was distracted. He was staring at a brassy, old fashioned pocketwatch, with strange, circular symbols enscribed on the outside. Where had it come from? Sam vaguely remembered packing it the day he'd permanently moved in with the Doctor, but he didn't really know why, or what he was doing with it.

He put it up to his ear. No ticking. It was broken. He tried to open it, but the lid was stuck fast.

The more Sam stared at it, the more…strange he felt. His skin tingled, his heart beat hard. He could swear he heard voices, sinister laughter, and the drums, the drum, drum, never ending drumming pounded in his head.

Open me, beckoned the watch. Open me, you human fool, and receive my majesty. OPEN ME!

SAM!

Sam jumped, lobbing the watch away from him. "Wha-what is it?" he stammered.

I asked you a question! This is an emergency, Sam, I need you and the Doctor right away!

"Right, right, of course," said Sam, getting to his feet, shaking slightly. "Where and when?"

"Doctor," said Sam jogging down the stairs into the console room. "Got a call from Annie. Can we get to London, Powell Estates, July 1, 2007, 12:05?"

"We can get there five seconds before that," said the Doctor, grinning, setting the coordinates. Then he looked up at Sam. His face fell. "You alright? You look a little…pale."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, perfect. Anyway, let's go," said Sam, smiling reassuringly at his traveling partner, trying desperately to forget that horrid watch.

Annie was just closing her phone when she heard the familiar whooshing right behind her. She turned around and was nose to nose with blue wood.

The door of the TARDIS was opened from the inside by the skinny idiot in brown. "Hello, Anna!" said the Doctor brightly.

She rolled her eyes. "One of these days, you'll get my name right. And you nearly squashed me with your box here, you know."

"Oh, don't be daft, the TARDIS has never squashed anyone…yet. That I know of," said the Doctor. "Anyway, come 'ere!" He pulled Annie into a bear hug, which she returned, smiling despite herself.

"'Lo, Ann," said Sam, hugging her too. "How long's it been? Since Christmas?"

"Yeah," said Annie. "Seven months, roughly."

"Ah, old place looks the same," said Sam, looking around. "Good ol' planet Earth."

Annie was looking at her wristwatch. "Ten after. Here they come."

"What?" asked the Doctor.

"Them," replied Annie, looking out on the scene.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, grey, translucent figures began to appear. They were shaped like people, but didn't look anything like them. They walked around a bit, coming up to normal humans, who greeted them happily, like old friends.

"Now you see why I called you," said Annie.

"Oh, yeah," said the Doctor, nodding emphatically. "I definitely see why."

"What are they, Annie?" the Doctor asked her as they drove back to her flat. The figures had only remained for two minutes, then faded the same way they came in.

"Government says they're ghosts," said Annie. "There's this company that lets them in everyday, a couple times a day, for just a couple minutes. And they just appear, all over the world."

"And no one's freaking out?" asked Sam.

"Well of course we did, at first. But they didn't seem to mean us any harm, so we just…got used to them. But I don't know…something just doesn't feel right about this whole thing. That's why I called you two in."

"Smart thinking, Annie," said the Doctor. "Now, first things first: they're not ghosts."

"They're not?" asked the humans.

"Course not," said the Doctor. "Ghosts aren't real. Sam, you remember the Gelth. No, this is something else. But whatever it is, it isn't natural. Ann, what is this company that controls the ghosts?"

"Dunno," shrugged Annie. "No one does. Some secret government facility."

"Sounds like UNIT," said the Doctor to himself.

"UNIT?" asked Sam.

"UNified Intelligence Task," the Doctor explained. "Used to work for them, long time ago."

"But this isn't them?" said Sam.

"No. UNIT's too smart for this. We need to check this whole ghost thing out."

As the Doctor was searching the Internet, trying to find info on the ghosts, Sam and Annie were having coffee in the kitchen. "You've changed," said Annie.

"Have I?" asked Sam.

"Yeah. But for the better, though," said Annie, smiling. "I'm glad for you, Sammy."

"Thanks," said Sam, stirring his coffee. "So, still with Jimmy Stone, then?"

"No, he's a bum. Broke up with him months ago." Annie looked out the window. "The right fella's out there for me…somewhere."

"I know he is," said Sam, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Annie didn't say anything, then suddenly laughed. "I think we just broke up."

"I'm sorry," said Sam, also laughing.

"It's okay," said Annie, shaking her head. "We've been on a downhill slope ever since the attack of those shop dummies. When you met him."

Sam sighed. "Listen, Ann, really-"

"No, you listen," said Annie. "I see the way you look at him."

"I don't look at him."

"He looks at you."

Sam's cheeks turned red. "It's not like that. It-it can't be like that."

"But it is," said Annie. "You love him."

"He's just…my friend, I swear," Sam struggled.

"No," said Annie, shaking her head, smiling kindly. "He's more to you than that."

Sam didn't know what to say.

At that moment, the Doctor came in. "Alright, kids, listen up. Annie, when's the next ghost shift?"

Annie consulted her watch. "About half an hour from now."

"Perfect, just enough time to set up the experiment." The Doctor grinned. "Who ya gonna call?"

"Ghostbusters?" asked Sam.

"Nah," said the Doctor, as he pointed a thumb at himself. "Me."

Annie and Sam helped the Doctor set up an experiment. He trapped one of the ghosts, trying to triangulate the point of origin for the "spirits" entering their world. When he did, it caused the three of them, and the TARDIS, to transport to somewhere else. "Allons-y!" shouted the Doctor. "I like that. Allons-y. I should say allons-y more often. Allons-y. Watch out, Sam Tyler, allons-y! And then, it would be really brilliant if I met someone called Alonso, because then I could say, 'allons-y, Alonso', every time!"

Sam laughed. "You're ridiculous, mate!"

"Ah, but that's part of my charm!" said the Doctor, winking at him. "Come on, then, let's see where we are." He pulled up the scanner. Then his face fell. "Oh. Oh, that's not good."

"What is it?" Sam and Annie looked over the Time Lord's shoulders. They had parked in some storeroom full of crates. There were soldiers with big, scary looking guns stationed all around the box.

"Oh my God, they've got guns!" gasped Annie.

"Doctor, don't go out there," said Sam, grabbing the skinny man by the shoulder.

"I've got to," said the Doctor. "You can stay here if you like."

"But they're armed!" said Sam.

"And I'm not, which makes me the better person, don't you think? They can shoot me dead, but the moral high ground is mine." The Doctor cheerfully stuck his hands in his pockets and headed for the door.

"You're not going out there by yourself," said Sam, blocking his way.

"Oh, yes, I am," said the Doctor, pushing him away. "You two apes are staying right here, where it's safe. Kapeche?"

"Doctor!" hissed Sam as the door shut behind the Time Lord. "Idiot!" he grumbled.

"Sam. Monitor," said Annie from the console. Sam had no choice but to join her.

The soldier and a blonde woman in black took the Doctor prisoner. Then, the TARDIS was hauled off to some storage unit. As soon as Sam heard the truck drive away, he peeped his head outside the TARDIS. "Annie, stay here," he said, digging the Doctor's psychic paper out of the Doctor's coat pocket. "I'm going to poke around a bit."

"But the Doctor said-"

"'The Doctor said'?" Sam scoffed. "Amateur."

Annie rolled her eyes as Sam took off.

Sam was wondering the corridors. He had found a lab technician's coat and now he blended in with the rest of the staff.

He was following a man down the hall to somewhere, when someone came out from a perpendicular corridor and nearly collided with Sam, who almost screamed because the person looked exactly like him.

"Sam?!" hissed the technician.

Sam couldn't believe his eyes. "Harry? What are you doing here?"

"The Doctor with you?" Harry asked.

"No, not at the moment. These people captured him."

Harry snapped his fingers. "Of course. Code Omega. That must have been him."

"What is this place?" asked Sam.

"It's called Torchwood," his twin explained.

"Torchwood?" Sam repeated.

"Yeah. Right now we're in the Canary Wharf building, downtown London. It's sort of a secret civilian operation that covertly works with the government. It protects the earth from alien threats."

"Men In Black," said the two men at the same time.

"Yeah," said Harry, nodding. "Basically."

"But how did you get here?" Sam said.

"The Preachers," said Harry. "The Tylers joined us, Pete, Jackie, and Rose. They're loaded, you know, so we've been working on some fringe science experiments. Including…" Harry gestured around them. "Interdimensional travel. Which led us here. Those 'ghosts'? Yeah, they came from our world, just like us. Turns out this place has been working open a rift in time and space, and we were able to get through it."

"You know about the ghosts?" asked Sam. "They came from your world? But what are they?"

Harry looked at him. "Think about it, Sammy. What do we have an excess of in our world?"

"Well the only thing I could think of would be Cyb-" Sam froze. "Oh no."

"Oh yes," nodded Harry.

"Well then, we've got to do something!" Sam exclaimed. "Come on, let's go find the Doctor."

"We can't!" said Harry. "Don't you think it'd look weird if there were two of us running around together?"

"Ugh, you're right," groaned Sam. "Well, what do we do, then?"

"I've got it." Harry ripped off his ID and pinned it to Sam's matching lab coat. "You're Harold Saxon now. Go find Mickey and Rose, they're in the Sphere room. You know them, right?"

"Er, yeah. Mickey, cool bloke, good with tech. Rose, blonde chick, wears pink."

"Right. And I'll go find the Doctor."

"Wait, what about the TARDIS?" Sam asked.

"Shoot! Er…send Mickey to go guard it."

"Okay. And here, take this." Sam handed Harry the Doctor's wallet. "It's psychic paper, it'll show people anything you want them to see. It belongs to the Doctor."

"Got it! Keep your head down." Sam's twin turned to leave.

"Oh, and Harry!" Sam called. "When you see the Doctor, don't flirt with him."

"Oh, I'd never encroach on another bloke's man," said Harry with a wink. Then he took off running.

Sam blushed and ran off in the other direction.

Sam crept into the laboratory. Harry's keycard let him easily. He tried not to look conspicuous as he snuck in. He spotted a black man and a blonde girl standing together next to a computer. "There they are," Sam muttered to himself.

"Saxon!" An Indian-English man in a purple tie strode over to him. "Where's the particle consolidator I asked for?"

"Er…they said there weren't any available," Sam lied quickly.

The man growled. "Dammit. When are they going to get their heads out of their…" He trailed off, looking at Sam. "Did your hair get longer?"

"It's a side effect of the Void ship, Dr. Singh," said a female voice coming from behind Sam. He turned and found Rose Tyler and Mickey Smith at his sides. "I should know," said Rose, giving the scientist a megawatt smile. "I've had to get three inches cut off myself this week."

"Hmm," grunted Singh. "Well, then. Sorry, Saxon." He walked away.

Sam let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, you guys. I was sure I was caught. By the way, I'm not Harry Saxon."

"Well of course, you're not, you shaggy mop," Rose teased gently, ruffling Sam's playfully unruly brown hair. "Hello, cuz. Figured we'd be seeing you sooner or later."

"Hi, Rose, Mickey. Good to see you again," said Sam.

"Where's Harry?" asked Mickey.

"He went off to find the Doctor. Oh, and he wanted you to go watch over the TARDIS," Sam added.

"Right," nodded Mickey, immediately heading off.

Sam looked up a large sphere, floating in the center of the room. It seemed to be made completely out of darkness. It gave Sam a terrible, cold feeling. "What is that?"

"The Void Ship," said Rose. "That's what the Doctor called it, anyway."

"The Doctor?!" said Sam. "He was here?"

"Yeah," said Rose. "It was while Harry was gone. We would've said something, but there were people all over the place."

Sam groaned. "What's the Void Ship?" he asked.

"It came with us, and the ghosts. The Doctor said it was from 'outside time and space', or something. I'm not really sure…gives you the creeps, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," said Sam, nodding.

Annie was sitting in the jumpseat of the TARDIS, feeling bored, anxious, and ignored. Typical.

Suddenly, the door swung open. "Sam? Doctor?" said Annie, standing up.

It wasn't either of them. It was a dark skinned man in a lab coat. "Who are you?" Annie asked.

"Mickey Smith. Don't worry, your friend Sam sent me." The man looked at her. "He didn't say anyone else would be in here. Who are you?"

Annie stood up straighter. "Annie Cartwright, DI. Sam's girlfriend. Well, ex now, I guess."

"Really?" said Mickey.

The Doctor was being interrogated by Yvonne Hartman when all of a sudden, two guards brought in a man with neat brown hair and a lab coat. "Found him wandering about," said one of the guards. "Had this on him." He threw down the Doctor's wallet, containing his psychic paper. "Stupid idiot," the guard taunted. "Didn't know psychic paper don't work on us. Oldest trick in the book."

"I did know, I just forgot," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "Well, at least I found you. Hello, Doctor, nice to see you again. Love what you're doing with your hair these days."

"You know this man?" Yvonne asked the Doctor.

The Doctor sighed. "Yes. This is my companion, Harry Saxon. Thought I told you to stay in the TARDIS," he added to the man.

Harry shrugged. "You know I don't take orders, Doc," he said, playing along. Then he winked. "I only give them, if you know what I mean."

"Alright, enough of this," said Yvonne. "Are there more of you running around here, Doctor?"

"Er, no. Right, Harry?" said the Doctor.

"No sir," Harry replied.

"Right. Then I-" Yvonne's attention was distracted. Someone was initiating ghost shift.

The Doctor discovered that three of the workers were wearing two earpieces, whereas the rest were wearing only one. "Oh no," he said, realizing.

"Yep," nodded Harry. "That's what I came to tell you."

In the laboratory, the creepy orb was showing signs of life. "That's not meant to happen," said Rose.

"Something's happening," said Sam. "Rose, you called this thing a ship, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, if it's a ship," said Sam slowly, "…wouldn't you think someone might be inside? Or…something?"

"But who? What?" asked Rose.

The sphere began to rupture open.

"We can't stop the gap from opening!" cried a technician.

"Try everything!" exclaimed Yvonne. "Hold the levers if you must!"

"Oh my God," said Harry. "They're going corporeal!"

"Harry, we can't let them in!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Everyone, hold them back!"

"We're trying!"

"Doctor, what is it? What's coming through?" Yvonne asked.

"Cybermen!" yelled the two men together.

"Ghost shift increasing to 100 percent!" called a technician.

The Doctor looked across at the far wall. "Here come the ghosts."

The sphere developed columns and pieces. It began to slide open.

"Rose, go, now!" Sam yelled.

Rose raced to the door and tried to leave. "I can't! They're deadlocked! We're trapped!"

"What's going on?!" cried Singh.

"Something's coming out," said Sam.

"But what?"

"Stop! Listen!" Sam yelled. Then, they heard it.

"EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!"

"No," breathed Sam. "It couldn't be. You're all dead!"

The pepper pots came floating out of the Sphere, one, two, three, four of them, one black and three bronze.

"LOCATION: EARTH! LIFE FORMS DETECTED!" cried the black one.

"EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!" they all yelled together.

"What the hell are those things?!" said Rose.

Sam swallowed. "Daleks!"

Chapter 39: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 19

Notes:

Chapter based on "Doomsday" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: July 8, 2006 (1/2).

Chapter Text

The heiress of house Jacaria, Viviandargolia, was gorgeous, intellectual, and charming. She was everything a man might want in a partner.

But she wasn't Koschei.

One night, about a couple of weeks after their marriage, Vivia suddenly said to him, "You don't love me, do you?"

"What's that?" said Theta in surprise. "Oh. No, of course I love you. Don't be silly."

She looked him sympathetically. "A woman knows when she looks into the eyes of her husband if he wants someone else."

Theta sighed tiredly. He patted his wife's hand. "You're too good for me. That I know for sure."

Vivia laughed. "Of course I am, darling. So…who were they?"

Theta looked far off. "A childhood friend, from school. A very good friend. The love of my life. His name was…oh, never mind. It doesn't matter anymore. He's long gone now."

"I'm so sorry," said Vivia quietly.

"Me too," said Theta quietly. "Ah, well. Life goes on. Besides…I'll never see him again anyway."

"EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!"

"Daleks!" Sam shouted again, this time at the great, screaming pepper pots. "You're called Daleks. I know your name. Think about it how can I know that? A human who knows about the Daleks…and the Time War," he quickly added.

The black Dalek, who seemed to be the leader of the pack, stared back at him through its cold blue eyestalk, but Sam could sense its fear.

"If you want to know how, then keep us alive," he said. "That's all I'm asking. Me and my friends."

The black Dalek looked back and forth from Sam to Rose to Dr. Singh. "YOU WILL BE NECESSARY," it finally decreed. Then it turned to the Dalek on its left. "REPORT. WHAT IS THE STATUS ON THE GENESIS ARK?"

"STATUS: HIBERNATION," the other Dalek replied.

"COMMENCE AWAKENING. THE GENESIS ARK MUST BE PROTECTED ABOVE ALL ELSE."

That's when Sam noticed that something had come out of the Void Ship with the Daleks. It was about the size of a Dalek, maybe a little smaller, conical, and metallic grey.

"Sam?" whispered Rose. "What are those things? The Daleks?"

"The worst things in the universe," said Sam back quietly. "The Doctor says they're pure cans of hate and anger. All they do is kill. It was them that killed the Doctor's people."

"But what are they doing here? What are they doing with us?" Dr. Singh asked, panicking.

"Didn't you hear? 'Exterminate'."

Singh swallowed. "Exterminate…us?"

"Never mind that," Sam muttered back, eyeing the cone. "What the hell's a Genesis Ark?"

At that moment, the Black Dalek spoke. "WHICH OF YOU IS LEAST IMPORTANT?" it demanded.

"What's that supposed to mean, then?" asked Sam.

"WHICH OF YOU IS LEAST IMPORTANT?"

"No, it doesn't work like that," said Sam, shaking his head. "None of us are less important than the other."

"DESIGNATE THE LEAST IMPORTANT!"

"This is my responsibility," said Singh, speaking up.

"No, it isn't," Sam tried to say. "Don't."

Singh cleared his throat and stepped forward bravely. "I, er, I represent the Torchwood Institute. Anything you need, you come through me. Leave these two alone."

"YOU WILL KNEEL," ordered the Dalek.

Singh was confused. "What for?"

"KNEEL!"

The scientist had no choice but to get to his knees.

"THE DALEKS NEED INFORMATION ABOUT CURRENT EARTH HISTORY," said the black Dalek.

Yeah, well, I can give you a certain amount of intelligence but nothing that will compromise homeland security,' Singh said, but the Dalek cut him off.

"SPEECH IS NOT NECESSARY. WE WILL EXTRACT BRAINWAVES."

Sam and Rose were forced to watch in horror as the man's cranium was suckered to death.

Above, in the ghost shift lab, the Cybermen had taken control. The people of Earth were being held hostage. And there was nothing Torchwood or the Doctor could do.

"Harry," he said, turning to the look alike of his companion. "Please tell me Sam and Annie stayed in the TARDIS."

"Who's Annie?" Harry asked.

"Never mind. What about Sam?"

Harry looked guilty. "Down in the Void Ship room, with Rose Tyler. I got my man Mickey watching your ship, though."

The Doctor was not consoled. If Sam was out of the TARDIS, that meant the Cybermen probably had him. The Doctor couldn't bear to think it.

"Scans detect unknown technology active within Sphere chamber," a Cyberman suddenly reported.

"Cybermen will investigate," stated another.

"Units ten-six-five and ten-six-six will investigate Sphere chamber," ordered the Cyberleader.

"We obey," said a troupe of Cybermen, before marching out.

"Sphere chamber? That's Sam and Rose are," said Harry worriedly.

"What did they mean by 'unknown technology'?" the Doctor wondered aloud.

"Dunno," shrugged Harry. "The Void Ship, maybe?"

"Or what was inside it," the Doctor murmured back.

Back in the Sphere chamber, the sinister pepper pots had finished with the late Dr. Rajesh Singh. His body lay there on the floor, a dehydrated skeleton in a lab coat. "HIS MIND SPOKE OF A SECOND SPECIES INVADING EARTH, INFECTED BY THE SUPERSTITION OF GHOSTS!" claimed one Dalek.

"You didn't need to kill him!" Rose squeaked.

"NEITHER DID WE NEED HIM ALIVE."

"DALEK THAY, INVESTIGATE OUTSIDE," ordered the black Dalek.

One of the other, lesser Daleks, presumably Thay, said, "I OBEY," and rolled out.

The Daleks and the Cybermen established contact. "They're here," said Rose, worryingly.

Sam sighed. "Daleks and Cybermen. Aren't we lucky?"

"IDENTIFY YOURSELVES," ordered Dalek Thay.

"You will identify first," the Cyberleader retorted.

"STATE YOUR IDENTITY."

"You will identify first."

"IDENTIFY!"

"Listen to 'em," said Sam, shaking his head. "You'd think they were six year olds."

Rose looked at him in disbelief. "Are you mad? There's two genocidal alien races out there, and you're making jokes."

"Technically speaking, Cybermen are human, but…yeah. I suppose I am," said Sam softly. "Living with the Doctor…I guess it does that to you."

Up above, the Doctor was watching on the monitor with the Torchwood staff and the Cybermen. When the gold pepper pot came rolling out, he felt his hearts leap in his chest. No! It's impossible! he thought to himself. I...I destroyed them all. Or at least, I thought I did.

This was beyond catastrophic. When the Doctor just had the Cybermen to deal with, he figured, with a little luck, he'd be able to defeat them and rescue Sam. But now, there were two offending forces to be reckoned with. All hope was lost.

"Oh, Sam," whispered the Doctor. "I've killed you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"WAIT!" ordered a Dalek, back down in the sphere chamber. They had just declared war on the Cybermen. "REWIND IMAGE BY NINE GRILLS."

The visual com backtracked a few seconds and paused. The Cyberleader was standing there, frozen, but Sam spied something in the background. Something brown.

"Oh, you absolute idiot," Sam muttered, a grin cracking his face, despite the circumstances. "You bloody fool. You're alive after all."

"IDENTIFY GRID SEVEN GAMMA FRAME," said the Dalek. The screen zoomed in on the Doctor in the background.

"THIS INDIVIDUAL REGISTERS AS ENEMY!"

"THE MALE'S HEARTRATE HAS INCREASED!"

Sam turned red. "Oh, it has not, shut up!"

"IDENTIFY HIM!" the Dalek demanded.

Sam swallowed. "Alright then. If you really want to know…that's the Doctor."

The Daleks, who had been crowding around Sam and Rose, immediately backed off.

Sam smirked. "Five million Cybermen-no sweat. But one Doctor? Now you're scared."

Upstairs, the rest of the Preachers had teleported in. Jake, Pete, and a few others. They gave the Doctor the low down on what had been happening in their world. They resolved to banish the Cybermen and the Daleks to the Void, and close of the holes between the dimensions.

Meanwhile, the Daleks ordered Sam to touch the Ark. "No," said Sam.

"OBEY! OR THE FEMALE WILL DIE!" said the Dalek.

"Sam, don't!" exclaimed Rose, catching his arm.

Sam smiled tightly at her. "Can't let 'em kill my cousin, eh? 'Sides…they're just gonna kill me anyway." Then he reached out to press his hand against the stolen Time Lord technology. But then he hesitated. He turned to Dalek Thay. "If you escaped the Time War…then you probably don't know what happened to the Emperor."

The Dalek seemed to pause. "YOU KNOW OF THE EMPEROR?"

"I met him," said Sam, slightly smug.

"THE EMPEROR SURVIVED?"

Sam shrugged. "'Til he met me, that is. 'Cause let me tell you something, Dalek, and if these are gonna be my last words, then you better listen: I met the Emperor, alright. And I destroyed him."

The Daleks were frozen.

"I absorbed the Time Vortex, poured it into his head, and obliterated him," Sam continued. "The leader of the so-called most powerful civilization in the universe…killed off by one measly little human. The God of all Daleks, and I killed him. HA!" he laughed into the Dalek's eyestalk.

"YOU LIE!"

"Try me!" Sam shouted.

"YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!"

"Now hold on, there's no call for that," said a calm voice.

Sam, Rose, and all the Daleks turned to face the door.

There stood the Doctor, hands in his pockets, (for some reason, 3D glasses on his face) and looking nonchalant as all get out.

"Doctor!" exclaimed Sam, unable to contain the giant grin on his face.

"'Lo, Sam. Good to see you. The real you, that is, not your flamboyant twin. And Rose, was it? Just spoke with your father, lovely man. And hello, Daleks. Long time no see. Last time I saw you, you were dying out in the Time War."

"YOU ARE THE DOCTOR!"

"EXTERMINATE HIM!"

"Oh, just wait a minute, would you? I need to hug my friend." The Doctor wrapped his skinny limbs around Sam and hugged him tight. "I'm so glad to see you," the Doctor murmured in his ear, dropping the arrogance, relief breaking into his voice.

"You too," muttered Sam, squeezing the Doctor back. "Idiot."

"Ape," laughed the Doctor, cupping his cheek.

"Spaceman."

"Land lubber."

"Stick figure."

"Well now that's just getting personal!"

Rose cleared her throat.

"Er, yes, right, sorry, Dalek time," said the Doctor, releasing his companion.

The Daleks tried to force the Doctor to imprint the Genesis Ark, but the Doctor let in the Preachers, who had temporarily allied themselves with the Cybermen to attack the Daleks. During the melee, Sam was knocked against the Ark. The time travel radiation from his body activated the Ark. The Cybermen were exterminated, and the humans and Time Lord barely escaped with their lives.

"Doctor, I'm sorry," Sam stammered, looking at his burnt hand in anguish.

"Never mind that now," said the Doctor. "What we need to worry about now is-what is the Genesis Ark?"

"It's Time Lord technology," said Sam. "That's all they said. Oh, and that it held the future."

"The fu-oh, no." The Doctor took off down the corridor, his trainers squeaking against the polished floor.

"Doctor, what is it?"

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" The Doctor led the team up the stairs back to the ghost shift room where there was a large picture window.

The Daleks had moved the Genesis Ark to the outside where it was hovering in midair, high above the city of London. "What's it doing?" Sam asked.

"Opening," said the Doctor in horror.

"But…what's inside?"

"Think, Sam. If it's a Time Lord vessel, that means it uses inner-dimensional technology, which means it's-"

"Bigger on the inside," Sam realized.

"Yes, and if it holds the future, the future of the Daleks…then that must mean…"

Sam's blood ran cold. "Oh, no."

"Oh, yes."

"What's going on?!" exclaimed Annie as she and Mickey came running in. "There were big robot things walking around-"

"Cybermen," Mickey supplied.

"Yeah, those. Is this an invasion?"

"Worse," said Sam. "A double invasion."

"There were things inside that Void ship, Mickey," Rose told him. "The Doctor says they're Daleks. They're bad."

"Very bad," agreed Sam.

"And they're about to get a lot worse," said the Doctor, pointing outside.

The Genesis Ark was opening. Something whizzed out from the inside of it. Then more things.

"Oh my God," gasped Annie.

The Ark was spitting out more Daleks. Hundreds of them. Thousands. Millions. Enough to match the Cybermen, maybe even overpower them.

"What are we going to do?" Sam asked the Doctor.

Sam felt the Doctor's hand slip into his. Sam squeezed it without even a second thought.

"I don't know, Sam," said the Doctor. "I just don't know."

Chapter 40: Still Waters Run Deep, Volume 20

Notes:

Chapter based on "Doomsday" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: July 8, 2006 (2/2).
Contains scenes from "The Name of The Doctor" by Steven Moffat, original air date: May 18, 2013.

Chapter Text

This is it, thought Sam. This is really the end. Sam was scared, but that hand interlaced with his own ebbed the fear a little.

"I'm sorry, but you've had it. This world's going to crash and burn. There's nothing we can do. We're going home." Pete Tyler grabbed a device from one of the Preachers and placed it around his neck.

"Come on, Annie, you take one too. And you, Sam," said Mickey, handing them each a device.

"What's it do?" Sam asked.

"It'll take us in between the worlds. Come on." Mickey, Harry, Jake, and the other Preachers except Pete hit the buttons on their devices, and blinked out of existence. Annie looked at Sam, shrugged, and hit hers too.

"Annie, wait!" Sam sighed, too late.

"Come on, then, Mister Tyler. You too," said Pete.

"Um, thanks, but no thanks," said Sam, taking the teleport from around his neck. "Think I'll stay. My home's here, and besides, the Doctor needs me. Right, Doctor?"

Sam turned around to face his companion, but as soon as he did, the Doctor reached out and touched the device still dangling from Sam's hand. Sam disappeared.

An instant later, Sam found himself in an identical room, with all the Preachers and Annie.

"Sammy? You're staying?" Annie asked him.

"Like hell I am! That skinny idiot sent me back!" Sam said angrily, putting the device around his neck. "You stay here, Annie. I'll come back for you when it's safe."

"Um, Sammy…I don't want to go back."

Sam froze.

Annie was standing in front of him. Right next to her was Mickey.

They were holding hands.

Sam blinked in surprise.

Annie took a deep breath. "You see, back in this world…Mickey had a girl named Anna. She was me. But she died. And, well…we talked for a long time. And he's really nice, Sam. And…there's just nothing left for me in that world. No family, really stupid job."

"Oh…" Sam didn't know what to say. "Well…if that's what you want."

Annie nodded.

"Well, then…maybe we'll meet again someday, Annie Cartwright." Sam kissed her on the cheek.

"Maybe. Goodbye, Sammy."

Sam nodded. "Bye."

Then he blinked out.

"Excuse me, what the hell were you thinking?!" Sam exclaimed as soon as he reappeared in his proper world.

"I was thinking that you'd just get in the way if you were here. I'm opening up the breach, and if you're here, you'll just get sucked in with the Daleks and the Cybermen. But if you're in Harry's World, then you'll be safe."

"But what about you?"

The Doctor picked up one of two large black objects. "Magna-clamps!" He flicked a switch and attached it to the wall on one side of the Void chamber. "Nothin'll unstick these babies. Let's just hope I've got a tight grip. There, nothing to worry about. So go on, off you pop."

"And once the breach is closed? Can I get back?"

The Doctor thought for a minute. "…no. No, you can't."

"Right, so, stuck in another dimension, for the rest of my life, without you…nah. Not gonna happen." Sam crossed his arms.

"Don't argue with me, Sam," said the Doctor.

"You're being an idiot."

"Just do what you're told."

Sam picked up the other of the two Magna-clamps. "Two of these, yeah?" He stuck his to the wall across from the Doctor's. "Problem solved."

"It's not safe," said the Doctor, gritting his teeth.

"Well, it's not safe for you either!"

"Sam, please, just go with Annie and Mickey, you'll be safe," the Doctor beseeched.

"No. It's you and me. Partners. Remember?"

"It could be your chance, Sam! To have parents, a sister, a home!"

"I have a home!" Sam threw out his arms in annoyance. "It's the TARDIS! It's time and space! It's you, Doctor. Don't you understand? To me, you're...you're..."

Everything, Sam wanted to say. You are the single most important thing in the universe. The most precious, the most relevant, the absolute of all creation, my infinity, my singularity, my all. You are the heat emanating from the sun, the gravity holding me to the ground, the very life blood pumping through my veins. I fought the tide for so long, but you took me in and absorbed me and now I'm drowning in you and I don't want to be saved. If you and I were separated, I would die. My heart would burst and my stomach would implode and my blood would freeze and I would wither into nothing, because you are my everything. My wonderful, mad, stupid, genius, idiot, fool, hero, eternal Doctor.

Sam swallowed. "...my best mate. And God knows without me, you wouldn't be able to pour yourself a cup of tea. So count me in."

The Doctor's cheeks quivered with anger. His usually warm brown eyes were glaring at Sam with heated frustration. Then he closed his eyes and exhaled. "Alright. Over there." He pointed to a control panel. "Set all the coordinates to six."

Sam nodded and walked away.

They prepared to open up the Breach. "Alright! Clamp on?" the Doctor cried.

"Yeah!"

"Nice and tight?"

"Yeah, I got it!"

"Alright then. We open the breach on my count. One…"

Sam clenched his lever.

"…two…"

Sam shut his eyes, his muscles tensed.

"Allons-y!"

Sam wrenched the lever backward, then grabbed the handle of the Magna-clamp. He gripped it tightly.

"Online," announced a computerized female voice, as the Void opened up.

Almost immediately, Daleks and Cybermen came slamming through the glass windows, sucked into the Void like dust into a vacuum cleaner.

"The Breach is open! Into the Void! Ha!" laughed the Doctor.

More and more and more, from all over the world, the monsters were pooled in and extracted from the earth. Sam, still tightly gripping his clamp, watched as they flew by his head.

Suddenly, the structure gave a shudder. "Offline," said the voice.

Sam looked. His lever was failing. It was starting to fall back to its original position. "Doctor!" he yelled.

"Sam, no!" the Doctor exclaimed.

Sam reached out for it, but his arms just weren't long enough. He let go of his clamp and yanked it upright.

"Online and locked." The system was working at full capacity again, but now Sam was in a bit of a bind. He was trying desperately to grab back onto the clamp, but the force of the Void was too much. Now he was only holding onto the handle of the lever, his whole body aloft and being reined in.

"Sam, hold on!" the Doctor cried.

Sam was trying with all his might. But he just wasn't strong enough. His fingers slipped.

"SAAAAAAAAAAM!" the Doctor screamed.

Sam was pulled backward toward the Void, forced to watch as the Doctor helplessly screamed his name. He shut his eyes, preparing for the moment of impact-

Whump.

Sam collided with something warm and steady, and both he and the body came crashing down to the floor of the TARDIS. Sam found himself sitting in between two long splayed legs clothed in brown pinstripes, with two matching brown arms cuddled around his torso, hugging him into their owner's warm chest, through which Sam could feel two madly beating hearts. A soft cheek was brushing his own, and a sharp chin was resting gently on his shoulder. He heard a light, relieved breathing in his left ear.

Sam licked his lips. "Doctor?" he whispered nervously.

"Yes," came the choked reply, hugging Sam slightly closer.

"What did you do?" asked Sam, vaguely aware how close the Doctor was holding him, and that he hadn't made a move to leave his embrace.

"I flew the TARDIS in between you and the portal so that you would fly in here instead of into the Void," said the Doctor, absentmindedly reaching up to run a thumb across Sam's jaw line.

Sam still didn't object, but clutched the hand still on his chest with his own. "But you're still out there..." he murmured.

"Yes," said the Doctor, continuing to stroke Sam's jaw. "And by now the Void has closed, and I'm running to my TARDIS to catch you. And here we are."

Sam slowly removed the grasping hands and moved away, turning to look the Doctor in the eye. They were still intimately close, Sam noted, and his singular heart was now beating at the elevated rate of one of the Doctor's. "You could've died," he breathed. "You could've been sucked in too. The TARDIS is carrying as much cross-dimensional residue as I am, if not more."

"Well, the point is, I wasn't."

"What the hell did you think you were doing?!"

"I was saving you," said the Doctor, looking slightly peeved.

"I'm not worth it," snapped Sam.

"Don't be stupid."

"You are infinitely more important than some insignificant human being!" Sam felt his temper rising. "You must never, ever risk your own life to save me. Do you understand? I don't matter."

"Yes, you do!" the Doctor exclaimed angrily. "Don't you see? You're the most important person in the universe to me!"

Sam froze. The Doctor stared at him wide-eyed, mirroring Sam's own expression of bewilderment, as though he hadn't meant to say that.

Sam kissed him.

He cupped the Doctor's face and pressed his lips to the other man's. The Doctor was surprised, and it took him a moment to react, but then he kissed back. Sam felt the drums in his head beating in tandem to the Time Lord's quadruple heart beat. He deepened the kiss, leaning into the Doctor, placing his hands on the floor on either side of the Doctor's body. Their lips were moving desperately against each other's-

Sam suddenly wrenched back. "I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, his face flushed, his eyes wide and crazed, his mouth slightly agape. His lips were bright red from their fervent kiss.

The Doctor too opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say (besides "don't be sorry, just kiss me again, you bloody fool"), when their concentration was abruptly broken by a surprised squeak.

Both men quickly turned their heads to see a woman with bright red hair in a wedding gown and veil, standing there, looking just as off guard as they felt at the moment.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice high and funny with shock. "Was I...interrupting something?"

Theta, wizened with age and now walking with a cane, was about to climb inside the ship when suddenly, he turned at the sound of quick little footsteps running toward him.

A young girl with short dark hair, gasping slightly from running, came up to him. "Grandfather! Where are you going?!" she cried.

"Arkytior, my child, you should be at home!" Theta lightly scolded. "Why have you followed me?"

"Because I want to come with you!" said Arkytior.

"It's too dangerous," said Theta bitterly. "You must stay here and complete school, like I never did."

"But Grandfather, I don't like school! It's so restrictive, there are so many rules!"

"Welcome to Time Lord society," grumbled Theta. "It doesn't matter. I'm leaving this blasted planet, and you cannot come with me!"

"Oh, please, Grandfather!" Arkytior flung herself at her delicate grandfather and clung to the front of his off world clothes. "You've always told such wonderous stories of planets beyond Kasterborous. Of people who do brave things, of sounds so sweet it hurts to listen to them, of colors one can't even find on Gallifrey. Where the sky is blue and the grass is green! Green grass! I can't even imagine it. I want to see other worlds, meet their people...wear clothes like these!" She grabbed one of Theta's lapels. "Grandfather, we're two of a kind-we don't belong here. Wherever you're going, I want to come too."

Theta stared down into the pleading eyes of his beloved granddaughter, who had unfortunately inherited the wild spirit of her nomadic grandfather. "Alright, my child," he sighed. "In here," he gestured to the TARDIS before him. "We'll leave in this ship. The very ship that took me from this planet a long time ago. Go on."

Arkytior nodded and boarded. Theta made to follow her, but a voice stopped him.

"Doctor?"

Theta turned around. There was no one else in the room of the barren old TARDIS museum, so it must be him that the voice was calling to.

The voice belonged to a young woman with brown hair and even browner eyes. She was wearing a burgundy tunic with brown clasps on the chest, and a silver belt around her slender waist with a big five point star on her belt buckle. She stared at him with wonder.

"Yes, what is it?" Theta said, nervous that he'd been caught. "What do you want?"

The girl smiled at him. "Sorry, but...you're about to make a very big mistake."

Theta lifted an eyebrow questioningly.

The girl leaned against a TARDIS, the one next to the one the Doctor was about to get inside. "Don't steal that one, steal this one. The navigation's knackered, but you'll have much more fun."

Theta looked at the TARDIS she was indicating. He touched its side. There was a familiar hum beneath his fingertips. Theta chuckled to himself. How could he have been so foolish? This was his TARDIS from long ago. How could he have almost made such a grievous mistake?

"Arkytior!" Theta called into the other ship. "Never mind, this isn't the right ship." As his granddaughter came out, Theta turned to thank the other girl. But she was mysteriously gone.

"Where are we going first, Grandfather?" Arkytior asked as Theta started the ship.

"I believe you mentioned blue skies and green grass, eh? We're going to a little planet called Sol 3, otherwise known as Earth." Theta almost smiled as the TARDIS began making that wonderful wheezing noise. "You'll need Earth clothes to blend in, of course. The Time And Relative Dimension In Space has a well enough stocked wardrobe."

"Alright, Grandfather." Arkytior turned and headed into the depths of the ship. "Oh, by the way," she said, poking her head back into the console room, "'Time And Relative Dimension In Space' is a bit of a mouthful, isn't it? Can we shorten it?"

"To what, my dear?" Theta asked.

"Um...what about...'TARDIS'?" Arkytior said.

Theta bit back a smile, not letting his dear granddaughter know that 'TARDIS' was already a widely-used abbreviation. "Of course. That sounds lovely."

Arkytior grinned and left again. Theta stood there, thinking. Not only would they need clothes to camouflage themselves, but identities as well. Arkytior should have something Earth-like, easy to remember, but beautiful. The Gallifreyan name 'Arkytior' meant 'flower' in English. Theta remembered, the time he'd landed on Earth, a pretty yellow wildflower that someone had told him was called "black-eyed Susan". Susan...that had a nice ring to it.

But about himself? Hmm...Theta remembered the mysterious girl from the museum. What had she called him? 'Doctor'.

Theta kind of liked the sound of that. The Doctor.

He wondered if Koschei would have liked it too.

Chapter 41: Time Lord Rising, Volume 1

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Runaway Bride" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: December 25, 2006 (1/4).

Chapter Text

"Who are you?" the redhead demanded as the Doctor and Sam hurriedly untangled themselves from each other. "Where am I?"

"Um…" "Ah…" Both boys were dumbfounded.

"What the hell is this place?!" the bride shrieked.

"What? What? What!" the Doctor exclaimed. He hurried over to his controls, face still quite red over the…incident. "You can't do that. We weren't-we're in flight! That is, that is physically impossible! How did-!"

"Tell me where I am!" exclaimed the woman, looking from the Doctor to Sam. She looked panicked, angry, and scared. "I demand you tell me right now-where am I?!"

"I-inside the TARDIS," Sam managed to stammer out. He was just as confused as the Doctor, not to mention, terribly embarrassed. He kept his gaze fixed on the redhead, unable to look the Doctor in the eye. Oh Lord, he'd done it! He'd actually kissed the Doctor!

"The what?" said the bride, looking at him suspiciously.

"The TARDIS," said the Doctor.

"The what?!"

"The TARDIS!" the men exclaimed at the same time.

"That's not even a proper word!" the woman shouted back at them. "You're just saying things!"

"How did you get in here?" said Sam.

"Well, obviously," she hissed, glaring at him, "when you and your…skinny boyfriend over there kidnapped me!"

"We didn't kidnap you!" "He's not my boyfriend." The Doctor and Sam said at the same time.

"Well, you could hardly tell, considering the way you were sucking his face off!" the bride shrieked. "Who put you up to this? Was it Nerys, oh my God, she's finally got me back; this has got Nerys written all over it!"

"Who's Nerys?" asked Sam.

"Your best friend," the bride hissed accusingly.

"Hold on, wait a minute," said the Doctor, coming around the console to inspect their intruder closer. He took in her long white gown and veil. "What are you dressed like that for?"

"I'm going ten pin bowling. WHY DO YOU THINK, DUMBO?! I was halfway up the aisle! I've been waiting all my life for this! I was just seconds away, and then you two, I don't know, drugged me or something-"

"We didn't drug you, we swear-"

"Don't touch me, you freak!" the woman yelled as Sam took a step toward her. "I'll have the police on you! Me and my husband-when he is my husband-we're gonna sue the backsides of ya!" The bride then spotted the double doors leading to the outside and sprinted for them.

"Wait, don't!" Sam yelled.

The woman flung the doors open, then stopped when she looked out and saw nothing but swirling colors. "Wha-what is-"

"It's called the Vortex," said Sam, coming up behind her. "It's…sort of part of outer space."

"I'm in space," said the woman slowly.

"Yes," said the Doctor, joining them.

"This…is a…"

"Spaceship," said the Doctor. "Our spaceship. It's called the TARDIS."

Sam noted that the Doctor had said "our". Not "my".

"How am I breathing?" squeaked the woman, still staring out into the void.

"The TARDIS is protecting us," the Doctor answered.

The woman slightly looked over her shoulders at her "kidnappers". "Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor. This is Sam Tyler. You?"

"Donna," replied the woman weakly.

"Human?" asked Sam.

Donna looked at him, slightly startled. "Is that optional?"

"Well, for him it is," said Sam, nodding his head at the Doctor. He still didn't look at him, though.

Donna exhaled a bit, sort of a nervous breath. "You're an alien."

"Yeah," said the Doctor.

Donna was silent for a moment, then said shortly, "It's freezing in here with these doors open." She hugged her bare arms.

The Doctor silently shut the doors and jogged back to his controls. "I don't understand it and I understand everything. This can't happen!"

"Maybe it's like that transmat beam from Satellite Five," suggested Sam.

"Oh no. Nothing gets inside the TARDIS. Nothing!" exclaimed the Doctor, typing swiftly at the keyboard. "There is no way a human being can lock itself onto the TARDIS and transport itself inside!"

"Well, she did," Sam countered.

"It must be some sort of subatomic connection," said the Doctor, barely hearing his companion as he whipped out an otoscope and examined Donna through it, just like a real doctor. "Something like a temporal field. Maybe something pulling you into alignment with the chronon shell. Maybe it's something macrobudding your DNA with the interior matrix. Maybe a genetic-!" The Doctor's long winded speech was caught off by Donna's right hand sharply striking his cheek.

Sam snorted with laughter.

The Doctor looked astonished. "What was that for?!" he exclaimed.

"GET ME TO THE CHURCH!" Donna bellowed.

"Right, fine! I don't want you here anyway!" the Doctor declared, throwing down his otoscope and tromping to the other side of the console to set the coordinates. "Where is this wedding?"

"St. Mary's," replied Donna shortly as she followed him. "Haven Road, Chiswick, London, England, Earth, the solar system!"

"Yeah, I think I could've guessed that!" the Doctor snapped.

Donna looked at Sam. "And you. Did he kidnap you as well? Force you to be his little love monkey or something?"

"NO!" exclaimed both men at the same time.

"We're just…we travel together, that's all," said Sam.

"And what? Go around abducting women for your space orgies?"

"NOOOOO!" the Doctor and Sam shouted again.

"I don't care," grumbled Donna, stomping off to the far end of the room. "Just get me back home."

The TARDIS's wheezing slowed and finally came to a complete stop. "Is that it then?" said Donna. "Are we here?"

"Yes," said the Doctor.

"Good. Outta my way, spacemen," said Donna, tromping down the ramp to the front doors and heading outside, the Doctor and Sam following her.

They had arrived in an area surrounded by buildings. "This isn't St. Mary's," said Sam, looking around. "Not even sure if it's Chiswick. Mind you, never really gotten the opportunity to go to Chiswick, but-"

"What sort of Martian are you?" Donna groused at the Doctor. "Where's this?"

The Doctor looked concernedly at his box. "Something's wrong with her. The TARDIS, it's like she's…recalibrating!" the Doctor raced back inside.

Donna looked at Sam. "Is he always like this?"

"What, in a rush? Pretty much, yeah," said Sam, shoving his hands in the pockets of his black hoodie. "Blimey, it's cold out here. What season is it?"

"Winter. It's Christmas Eve," said Donna absently. She only just now spotted the exterior of the TARDIS.

"Christmas Eve? Really? How time flies," Sam remarked. "Wait, you planned your wedding on Christmas Eve? Why?"

"Wanted to get away for Christmas. Can't stand it. Hate the cold. I'm honeymooning in Morocco…" Donna was rounding the TARDIS, making the usual calculations in her head. The size of a phone booth and the space inside it didn't quite add up.

"Bigger on the inside," Sam explained. "Trans-dimensional…stuff."

Donna poked her head out from the other side of the TARDIS and stared at him. "You're weird. You and you space boyfriend. I'm leaving."

"Donna, wait! Doctor!" Sam called.

The Doctor came out of the TARDIS. "Donna-"

"Leave me alone, I just want to get married," said Donna, walking away from them.

Sam and the Doctor flanked her. "Come back to the TARDIS," the Doctor said.

"No way! That box is too weird," Donna declared, speeding up a bit. She was surprisingly fast for a woman in a long wedding dress.

"It's bigger on the inside, that's all," said Sam.

"Oh, that's all?" Donna exclaimed as the three of them walked along. Just a short guy in a hoodie, a skinny bloke in a way too tight suit, and a woman in a bridal gown and veil. Very inconspicuous. With a distressed sigh, Donna checked her watch. "Ten past three. I'm gonna miss it."

"Why don't you phone them, tell them where you are?" Sam suggested.

"How do I do that?"

"Haven't you got a mobile?" asked the Doctor.

Donna stopped to glare at him. "I'm in my wedding dress. It doesn't have pockets. Who has pockets? Have you ever seen a bride with pockets? When I went to my fitting at Chez Allison, the one thing I forgot to say was give me pockets!"

"It's alright, it's alright, just…use mine," said Sam, digging his own cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans and handing it over.

Donna took it and gave the Doctor a snarky look. "Thank you. At least one of you has his head on straight."

"This man you're marrying, what's his name?" the Doctor asked as Donna punched out a number on Sam's mobile.

"Lance."

"Good luck, Lance," muttered the Doctor.

"Oi!" Donna shouted.

"Sorry," said Sam. "Forgets his manners sometimes. Well, when I say sometimes…"

"Oh, the line's busy!" Donna exclaimed, angrily hanging up. "They must all be freaking out looking for me. Well, if you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself. TAXI!" she shouted, taking off down the street.

"Oh boy," muttered Sam as he and the Doctor were forced to take off after the runaway bride once again.

They had a hell of a time getting a taxi, but finally they managed to pull one over. "Saint Mary's in Chiswick, just off Hayden Road. It's an emergency, I'm getting married."

"Gee, would've never been able to guess," said the Doctor, looking at her dress.

Donna silenced him with a Look. "Just hurry up!"

"It'll cost you, sweetheart," said the driver. "Double rates today, what with the Christmas season and all."

"Oh my God," said Donna in realization. "Have you got any money?"

"Not me," said the Doctor. He looked at Sam. "You?"

"Erm…oh, no! They took my wallet at Torchwood!" Sam said, clapping his hand to his forehead.

"Not with my psychic paper!" said the Doctor.

"Sorry," Sam winced.

"Well, what about you?" said the Doctor, turning to Donna.

Donna sighed in disgust. "Pockets!"

The driver threw them out. Donna yelled some colorful obscenities at him. "And that goes double for your mother!" she called as he drove away. "I'll have him. I got his number. Talk about the Christmas spirit."

"Well, what now?" Sam said.

"We need money," said the Doctor, looking up and down the street. "Listen, Donna, you try calling your people again. Me and Sam will go try to scrounge up some money."

"How are you gonna do that?" Donna inquired.

"By doing something…Martian. Come on, let's go!" Sam and the Doctor took off for the nearest ATM.

"Oh, bloody hell," groaned Sam, staring at the people waiting in line. There were only a couple of them, but they were in a hurry.

"'S fine. We can catch our breath," said the Doctor.

Sam nodded. But now that oxygen was properly getting to his head, he realized that he was alone with the Doctor. And that sooner or later, they were going to have to discuss the incident.

"So, um…" Sam had no idea how to approach this situation. "Nice weather, eh?"

"Oh. Er, yeah," said the Doctor, looking around as if he hadn't noticed.

"So…your hair looks different," Sam said.

"It does? Oh yeah. Guess I forgot to gel it. Well, it has been a long day," said the Doctor, putting his hand to his normally spiky hair. Sam had the sudden urge to run his hands through it. It looked so soft.

"Yeah," agreed Sam. "Um, speaking of which-"

"Oh, finally!" said the Doctor, stepping up to the ATM. "Keep watch," he told Sam as whipped out his sonic screwdriver.

"Roger," said Sam, covering the Doctor. He looked around for anyone who might spy the Doctor stealing from the machine. Up the street, he heard a brass band playing "O Come, All Ye Faithful". Sam's ears followed the music till he spotted the source.

His face fell. "Doctor!"

"What?" said the Doctor as he grabbed the cash. He followed Sam's gaze. "Oh no."

The music was coming from a horribly familiar trio of figures clothed in red and white cloaks with rubber Santa Claus masks. "It's them," Sam said. "Those things from last Christmas, the ones that were trying to get you. What are they doing here?"

"I don't know," said the Doctor. "But whatever it is, it can't be good. And I'd bet anything it has something to do with…Donna!"

The Doctor and Sam looked back up the street to see Donna climbing into a taxi. "Thanks for nothing, spacemen!" she yelled to them. "I'll see you in court!"

"Doctor, the driver!" Sam exclaimed. Another one of the Santas was driving the car!

"DONNA!" the Doctor yelled, but it was no use. The car was already speeding away.

"Doctor, what do we do?"

The Doctor was thinking. "We cause a distraction." He aimed his sonic screwdriver at the ATM, which exploded and showered the street with bills. The people nearby were in a frenzy as they tried to grab the money for themselves. The Santa band, who had been aiming their instruments at them, was blocked by the crowd.

"Merry Christmas!" Sam called to the mob laughingly as the Doctor grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the TARDIS.

"We're going after her," said the Doctor as they ran back inside the ship. "Okay, look, I'm going to fly this thing alongside her cab. You have to stand at the door and convince her to jump out of the car and inside the TARDIS."

"Why me?!" exclaimed Sam.

"Because you can't fly a TARDIS and she hates me!" said the Doctor.

"Okay." Sam threw open the door to the TARDIS, which was now speeding along a highway. Running directly right next to him was the cab, with Donna trapped inside. "Donna!" Sam yelled. "Open the door!"

"What?!" Donna mouthed back.

"Open! The! Door!" Sam cried.

Sam couldn't hear her through the glass, but she indicated that the car was locked. "Doctor! I need your sonic!"

The Doctor tossed him the screwdriver, which Sam just barely caught, and used it to open Donna's door.

She rolled down the window. "Santa's a robot!" she wailed.

"Donna, open the door!" Sam called.

"Why?!"

"Because you have to jump!"

"I'm not blinking flip jumping, I'm supposed to be getting married!" Donna sniped.

The robot, who had noticed Sam and the TARDIS by now, accelerated the car and drove away. "Doctor! Faster! They're getting away!" Sam called.

The Doctor moved the TARDIS to catch up with the cab. "Use the sonic on the robot so that it can't go any faster!" he directed.

Sam did so. The robot immediately released the gas and the car resumed a constant speed. "Listen to me, you've got to jump!" Sam cried to Donna.

"I'm not jumping on a motorway!" Donna exclaimed.

"Whatever that thing is, it needs you, and whatever needs you for, it's not good!" Sam said. "Believe me, we've dealt with those things before! Now come on!"

"I'm in my wedding dress!" Donna shouted.

"Yes, you look beautiful! Come on!" Sam exclaimed.

"Sam, can't hold her for much longer!" the Doctor cried.

Donna's door swung open. Donna stood up. Sam held his arms out. Donna stared uneasily at the speeding road underneath them. "I can't do it!" she said.

"Please!" said Sam. "Trust me!"

Donna swallowed. She closed her eyes and with a small squeak of terror, she leapt out of the car into Sam's waiting arms. They both went tumbling backward into the TARDIS.

Chapter 42: Time Lord Rising, Volume 2

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Runaway Bride" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: December 25, 2006 (2/4).

Chapter Text

"Oh!" Donna gasped with surprise. "Oh thank God! I thought for sure you were gonna drop me."

"Why is that?" said Sam, getting up from the floor, then helping Donna to her feet.

"Well you're just such a little fella," said Donna, brushing off her gown.

Sam reddened. "Oi! I'm five nine! That's not little!"

"Well, you are pretty short," said the Doctor from the console, biting back a smile.

Sam glared at him. "Well at least I'm not a skinny idiot like you!"

The Doctor, who was (in this incarnation) six foot one, was silently chuckling. "Oh, I'm gonna get you," said Sam, steaming.

"I would love to see that," said the Doctor, raising an eyebrow. Sam, startled at the sudden innuendo, blushed. The Doctor laughed and fiddled with some of the knobs on his control panel, and the TARDIS bumped gently as it physically landed somewhere. "I've got to make some repairs. For a spaceship, the TARDIS doesn't actually do much flying. Her circuits are fried. You two go outside. Get some fresh air.

Sam and Donna shrugged and went outside. They were now on top of a building in the city. "So, I was right then," said Donna. "You and the Doctor are more than just friends."

"Oh, no, we really aren't. Really," said Sam.

"Uh-huh," said Donna skeptically. "And the kissing I walked in on?"

"You didn't walk into the TARDIS, you appeared."

"Quit changing the subject, kiddo."

"'Kiddo'?" laughed Sam. "I'm not a kid, I'm thirty…six. I think. Maybe thirty five. I'm not really sure anymore."

"How old is the Doctor?" asked Donna.

"Way older than me," laughed Sam.

Donna looked intrigued. "How old?"

"Nine hundred and two," said Sam, looking off into the distance. "God, he's old."

How could he ever want someone like me?

It just occurred to Sam how very naïve he'd been about the whole thing. The Doctor had been alive a lot longer than him, and would probably be long after Sam was gone. A human male was approximated to live seventy two years. Just seventy two years. If Sam was thirty six, that meant half of his life was over. To a Time Lord like the Doctor, seventy two years was the blink of an eye.

"I've been an idiot, Donna," said Sam, sitting down on the edge of the building, letting his feet dangle idly over the side, watching the tiny cars drive along the ribbon of street on the ground far below.

Donna sat beside him. "You wanna talk about it?" she asked.

Sam smiled balefully and shook his head. "I'm okay. I'm just glad I'm finally making sense."

"Yeah…" Donna looked at her watch briefly then stared down at the scene below, looking sad.

"We missed it, didn't we? Your wedding," said Sam.

Donna nodded.

"Sorry," said Sam. Donna shrugged and hugged her arms. "Oh, here," said Sam, shedding his jacket and wrapping it around Donna's shoulders.

"Thanks," Donna muttered. "I mean for everything. For rescuing me from that robot. Even if I did miss my wedding."

Sam chuckled humorlessly. "Now there's a change. Hey, you know, you can always reschedule. I know that's not the same, but…it's not like you're not getting married at all. Still a bright side…so what's your fiancé like? This Lance bloke. How'd you meet him?"

"Well it was my job," said Donna, her face brightening at the prospect of getting to talk about her fiancé. "I'm a temp. Best temp in Chiswick too. I was working at a place called H.C. Clements. I mean, it was all a bit posh really. I'd spent the last two years at a double glazing firm. Well, I thought 'I'm never going to fit in here'. And then he made me a coffee. I mean, that just doesn't happen. Nobody gets the secretaries a coffee. And Lance, he's the head of HR! He don't need to bother with me. But he was nice, he was funny. And it turns out he thought everyone else was really snotty too. So that's how it started, me and him. One cup of coffee. That was it."

"Sounds nice," said Sam, smiling.

"He is. He really is," said Donna happily.

The Doctor emerged from the TARDIS then, looking confused. He came and sat down on the other side of Sam. "Something's wrong with her. She's…digesting or something."

"Could it have something to do with Canary Wharf, Doctor?" asked Sam.

"No," said the Doctor. "It's like she absorbed some sort of energy or something. Donna, has there been anything strange happen to you lately?"

Donna looked at him dubiously.

"Right, apart from this," the Doctor amended.

Donna shook her head. "Nothing I can think of."

"Well, whatever happened to you, those things will still be looking for you," said the Doctor, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a ring. "I need you to wear this."

Donna looked at the ring in distress. "Oh, do you have to rub it in?" she groaned.

"It's a biodamper, it'll make you untraceable to those creatures," the Doctor insisted.

"Oh, alright." Donna reluctantly put out her hand.

Sam leaned back a bit as the Doctor stretched over him to slide the ring onto Donna's finger. "With this ring, I thee biodamp," said the Doctor, making a bit of a joke.

Sam's eyes traveled up the Doctor's arm, then connected with the Time Lord's brown ones. The two men looked at each other for a moment, then Sam tore his gaze away. His stomach was tied up in knots.

"For better or for worse," said Donna, taking no notice of the brief exchange. She looked at the boys. "So Sam said you've seen those things before. The Santas. What are they for?"

"Ah, your basic robo-scavenger. The Father Christmas stuff is just a disguise," said the Doctor casually. "They're trying to blend in. I met them last Christmas."

"Why, what happened then?" Donna asked.

"Great big spaceship hovering over London?" said Sam incredulously. "You didn't notice?"

Donna shrugged disinterestedly. "I had a bit of a hangover."

"Question is, what do camouflaged robot mercenaries want with you? And how did you get inside the TARDIS?" the Doctor asked. He got out his sonic screwdriver and started scanning Donna with it. "It's weird. I mean, you're not special, you're not powerful, you're not connected, you're not clever, you're not important."

"Sam, you really should punch him in the face some time...stop bleeping me!"

"Fine, sorry," said the Doctor, stowing his screwdriver. He hopped up from the ledge. "Well, the TARDIS should be ready to go."

"Okay," said Donna, rising as gracefully as she could in a floor length dress. "Say, too bad that's not a time machine so you could get me to the wedding on time."

The Doctor shared a quick look with Sam. "Er, yeah. Too bad."

"Oh, this is going to be so shaming," said Donna as she went back inside the TARDIS. "You can do the explaining, Martian boy."

"Yeah. I'm not from Mars," said the Doctor as he and Sam followed her.

"Oh, I had this great big reception all planned. Everyone's going to be heartbroken…"

The Doctor paused before reentering the TARDIS. He stopped and turned to look at Sam. "You alright?"

Sam swallowed and plastered a smile to his face. "Couldn't be better."

"It's just…with Donna and everything…we didn't exactly get to talk about-"

"Oi, you coming?!" Donna shouted from inside.

The Doctor and Sam remained where they were, frozen, staring at each other.

"I'm sorry I kissed you, Doctor," said Sam, finally. "I won't do it again."

"No, but I-" said the Doctor as Sam pushed past him into the TARDIS.

They arrived in a festively decorated hall, where the wedding party was dancing and carousing to a holiday rock song. It was as if no one even noticed the bride's absence. Donna stood in the doorway with the Doctor and Sam, arms crossed, staring at all of them having a good time, angry and hurt.

It took a moment, but eventually their presence was noticed and the partying ceased. The music shut off with an awkward record scratch.

"You had the reception without me," Donna accused.

"Donna," said a dark skinned man in a suit, rushing forward. This must have been Lance. "What happened to you?"

"You had the reception without me?!"

The Doctor cleared his throat awkwardly. "Hello. I'm the Doctor. This is Sam."

"Hi," said Sam, awkwardly waving to the guests.

"They had the reception without me!" Donna exclaimed to them.

"Yes. I gathered," said the Doctor patronizingly.

"Well it was all paid for," said a tall blonde woman in a blue formal gown. "Why not?"

Donna glared at her. "Thank you, Nerys."

"Well, what were we supposed to do?" An elderly woman stepped forward-probably Donna's mother. "I got your silly little message in the end. 'I'm on Earth'? Very funny. What the hell happened? How did you do it? I mean, what's the trick, because I'd love to know." Everyone started chattering at once, trying to get answers. Then Donna suddenly burst into tears and everyone shut up. Lance came forward and hugged her and everyone started clapping (except Nerys). Donna smiled and winked at Sam and the Doctor over her fiancé's shoulder.

"Hey, come on, everyone, let's just forget all this and dance!" Lance announced. "Deejay, come on!"

The music started back up and the party was back on. "Come on, love, dance with me," said Lance, taking Donna's hands and leading her onto the dance floor.

Donna nodded, "stopped" crying, and followed him out.

"Oh, I love a party," said the Doctor. "Been awhile since I been to one of those. Last time I was at one, I was saving the lover of the King of France from clockwork droids."

"Good times," said Sam, chuckling.

"Yeah." The Doctor's smile faltered, and he looked at Sam. "Listen. I-"

"Hey, do you wanna dance?" That blonde woman, Nerys, had come back. She was looking at Sam.

"Um…sure," said Sam, taking her hand. She practically dragged him out onto the dance floor.

The Doctor watched them go. He was very quiet.

"It's just, she's such an attention whore," Nerys was saying to Sam. "I mean, it's her own wedding, and she wants the spotlight so much that she has to pull a disappearing act? Who does that?"

"Dunno," said Sam dully. He looked across the room. The Doctor was looking at someone's phone.

"I asked you a question!" Nerys snapped.

"Oh, what?" Sam asked.

"I said, where'd she go? She arrived here with you, didn't she?"

"Well, she showed up in me and my friend's…car. Just, out of the blue. Can't really explain it."

Nerys looked annoyed. Sam got the feeling the only reason she'd asked him to dance was to weasel information out of him. Sam felt very awkward dancing with her. She towered over him, plus she was very nicely dressed, and here Sam was in trainers, jeans, and a hoodie. Sam looked for the Doctor again. Now he was standing with the wedding photographer, inspecting the wedding video.

He's not concerned about me, Sam thought to himself, a little glumly.

All of a sudden, the Doctor looked across at Donna, still dancing happily with Lance, eyes wide. Something was wrong.

"Excuse me," said Sam, stepping away from the bridesmaid. Nerys looked offended and stomped away, but Sam took no notice. He followed after his companion as the Doctor took off and dashed backstage.

"Doctor?!" Sam found the skinny man standing at a window, looking terrified. "What's wrong?" Sam looked out the window too. "Oh no!"

The Santas were back. "They followed her," said Sam. "I thought you said that ring would protect her!"

"Well it didn't, come on!" The Doctor grabbed his hand out of instinct, then promptly dropped it. He settled for just running off, Sam in tow.

The Robo-Santas attacked the party, and panic ensued. Luckily, the Doctor managed to outsmart them. He destroyed the robots by plugging his sonic screwdriver in the sound system. He discovered from one of their severed heads that something was controlling the roboforms. They weren't acting of their own accord this time. "By why is it me?" Donna asked. "What have I done?"

"If we find the controller, we'll find that out. Ooh! It's up there. Something in the sky..."

"What do we do?" Sam said.

"We have to go to Donna's workplace. I think that's where it all started," said the Doctor.

"What, H.C. Clements?" said Donna.

"Yeah, I looked it up," said the Doctor. "Sam…its sole proprietor is Torchwood."

"Them again," said Sam, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"What's Torchwood?" Donna asked.

"They were behind all the Cybermen and Daleks in London, about six months ago…remember?" said Sam.

Donna shrugged. "I was in Spain."

"There were Cybermen in Spain."

"Scuba diving."

"Ugh, how do you keep missing all these extraterrestrial events?" Sam questioned.

"Lance!" the Doctor exclaimed, grabbing the groom's shoulder. "We need to get H.C. Clements, pronto. Can you drive us? Excellent. Let's go."

"So, Doctor, what's going on?" Sam said as they rushed inside the office building where Donna and Lance worked.

"Well, Torchwood was destroyed, but H.C. Clements stayed in business. I think someone else came in and took over the operation," said the Doctor.

"But what do they want with me?" Donna asked fearfully.

"Somehow you've been dosed with Huon energy. And that's a problem, because Huon energy hasn't existed since the Dark Times. The only place you'd find a Huon particle now is a remnant in the heart of the TARDIS. See? That's what happened. Say that's the TARDIS." The Doctor picked up a coffee mug. "And that's you." The Doctor picked up a pencil. "The particles inside you activated. The two sets of particles magnetized and whap." The Doctor shook the mug and the pencil, then dropped the pencil inside the mug. "You were pulled inside the TARDIS."

"I'm a pencil inside a mug," said Donna.

"Yes you are, 4H, sums you up. Lance? What was H.C. Clements working on? Anything top secret? Special operations? Do not enter?"

"I don't know, I'm in charge of personnel. I wasn't project manager," said Lance. "H.C. Clements produces security systems. Entry codes, ID cards, that sort of thing. Why am I even explaining myself? What the hell are we talking about?!"

The Doctor was fiddling with a computer. He made it pull up a floor plan of the building. "They make keys, that's the point. And look at this. We're on the third floor…" The Doctor jumped up and made Sam, Donna, and Lance follow him to the lift. "Underneath reception, there's a basement, yes? Then how come when you look on the lift, there's a button marked 'lower basement'? There's a whole floor which doesn't exist on the official plans. So what's down there, then?"

"Are you telling me this building's got a secret floor?" Lance snorted.

"No, I'm showing you this building's got a secret floor," said the Doctor.

"It needs a key," said Sam.

"I don't." The Doctor pulled out his sonic and scanned the button, which produced some sparks and unlocked. "Right then. Thanks, you two. I can handle this. See you later. Maybe take Sam with you, keep him out of trouble."

"No chance, Martian. You're the man who keeps saving my life. I ain't letting you out of my sight." Donna girted up the loins of her gown and tromped onto the lift with the Doctor.

"Going down," said the Doctor.

"Lance?" said Donna.

Lance hesitated. "Maybe I should go to the police."

"Inside," Donna ordered.

Lance got into the lift.

"To honor and obey?" the Doctor asked.

"Tell me about it, mate," Lance said.

"Oi," Donna warned.

The Doctor looked at his traveling partner, who was still outside the lift. "Sam?"

Sam had his arms crossed. "You were going to abandon me?"

"What?" said the Doctor.

Sam nodded to the bride and groom. "You told them to take me with them. You were just gonna leave me again? After all the trouble you went to to keep me with you after Canary Wharf?"

"Well…" The Doctor blinked. "Well, I-"

"How many times do I have to tell you, Doctor? I'm not leaving you. It's you and me. That's what you said last Christmas, wasn't it?" Sam said. Then he paused. "Unless you just…want me to go."

"No," said the Doctor emotionally, stepping off the elevator, into the hallway with Sam. "Of course I don't want you to go."

"Oi, could you possibly do this later?" Lance said. The Doctor pointed the screwdriver behind him, making the lift doors close, his eyes not leaving Sam's for a moment.

"Sam…I don't know what I'd do without you," said the Doctor softly. Sam realized that the Doctor was holding his hands, and standing very, very close.

"Doctor…" Sam's mouth was dry, and his heart was beating so hard he was sure the Doctor could hear it. "I don't want to leave. We…we're a team." We belong together. I need you.

I think I love you.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor apologized. "I just meant until whatever's trying to get Donna was out of the way. You know I'll always come back for you."

"Yeah," said Sam softly. "Yeah, I do know."

Time seemed to freeze as the Doctor leaned closer. The Doctor was going to kiss him! Sam's eyes threatened to flutter shut, his arms to twine themselves around the Time Lord's skinny neck, his lips to connect with the Doctor's and kiss back. But Sam quickly stepped around the Doctor, pressing the down button on the elevator. The doors promptly opened and Sam stepped inside, muttering, "Come on." The Doctor had no choice but to follow.

Chapter 43: Time Lord Rising, Volume 3

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Runaway Bride" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: December 25, 2006 (3/4).

Chapter Text

The elevator took them down to a secret corridor, lit in eerie green. "Where are we?" Donna asked, looking around. "What goes on down here?"

"Let's find out," said the Doctor.

"Do you think Mr. Clements knows about this place?" Donna said.

"The mysterious Mister Clements? He's probably part of it," said the Doctor. Then he spotted something and grinned. "Ooh, transport!"

"No way," Sam said.

Off to the side, there were a couple of Segways parked for security to use. "Come on," said the Doctor, hopping onto one. "We'll use these. It'll be faster."

"But there's only two," said Sam. "There's four of us."

"Oh, right," said the Doctor. "Well, I guess we'll have to double up. Lance, you and the almost missus, and Sam…er…I guess you can ride with me."

Donna shot Sam a meaningful look as she hopped onto the back of the Segway with her fiancé. Sam ignored her and reluctantly climbed on with the Doctor and was forced to wrap his arms around the other man's skinny waist. Sam didn't want to admit it, but holding the Doctor felt really good.

"Right then," said the Doctor normally, as if Sam hugging him from behind didn't make any difference to him. "Allons-y!"

The Doctor and Lance started their Segway and scooted down the hallway. Suddenly, Donna began to chuckle. Then it was full out laughter. Sam and the Doctor soon joined her. Their lives had been at stake so many times today, and now here they were, just rolling along in a pair of freaking Segways, for God's sake!

Lance didn't get the joke. He stared at the three of them as if they were mad.

"Okay, hold it," the Doctor called, pulling to a stop. Sam hastily let go of him and hopped down from the Segway. Lance and Donna followed suit. The Doctor went over to a door in the wall. He scanned it with his sonic, then turned the wheel and opened it. The hatch led to a small room with a ladder leading up.

"What're you doing?" Donna asked him.

"Getting my bearings," the Doctor replied as he prepared to climb the ladder. "Wait here. Don't do anything." And with that, the skinny Time Lord was scrabbling up the ladder.

Sam, Donna, and Lance watched him ascend. "He's got a nice arse, doesn't he?" Donna whispered to Sam.

"Yeah," said Sam without thinking.

"Ooh, I knew you'd been looking!" Donna crowed triumphantly.

"Shut up, I have not!" Sam exclaimed, a betraying blush crawling up his cheeks.

"Donna," said Lance in hushed tones. "Have you thought about this? Properly? I mean, this is serious! What the hell are we going to do?"

Donna looked surprised, as if she'd forgotten he was there. "Oh! I thought July."

Lance sighed in disgust.

Pretty soon, the Doctor came back down. "Thames flood barrier," he said. "Right on top of us. Torchwood must have snuck in and built this place underneath."

"What, like there's a secret base hidden underneath a major London landmark?" Donna asked.

"I know. Unheard of." The Doctor winked at Sam. "Now, what's over here?"

They all went through a door leading into a huge, futuristic laboratory, filled with gigantic bubbling tubes. "Ooh, look at this!" the Doctor said, running over to one. "Stunning!"

"What's it do?" Donna said.

"Particle extrusion," said the Doctor, examining one of the tube apparatuses. "Hold on…brilliant! They've been manufacturing Huon particles! Course, my people got rid of Huon particles. They unravel the atomic structure."

"Your people?" Lance asked confusedly. "Who are they? What company do you represent?"

"Alien, Time Lord, try to keep up," Sam muttered to him.

"I'm just a freelancer," the Doctor added. "But this lot are rebuilding them. They've been using the river. Extruding them though a flat hydrogen base so they've got the end result-Huon particles in liquid form!" He held up a small vial of the water and slipped it in his pocket.

"So the Huon's in the water, then?" Sam asked. "Is that safe?"

"Oh, it's just this water here. Perfectly safe. No environmental hazards."

"Then how did it get inside Donna?" Sam asked.

"Dunno," said the Doctor, not really paying attention. He was still marveling at Torchwood's work. "Somehow, she must have consumed some of this water."

Donna gagged. "I drank what?!"

"Donna, think," said Sam, turning to her. "Did you drink water from any unusual place?"

Donna thought, then shrugged. "Just the tap. And from bottles."

"Well it couldn't have been from there. You're the only one that showed up in the TARDIS, so you're the only one that could have been drugged. It had to be from someplace special, someplace only you would drink from." Sam thought for a moment. "Well, water's used to make lots of things as well. It wasn't necessarily just water by itself. It could've been tea, or, or…"

"Maybe it was the coffee," laughed Donna.

Sam looked her. "What did you say?"

"Well, the coffee at work's always pretty watery. I didn't say anything, I thought Lance was just rubbish at making coffee."

"Hey!" Lance said.

"Coffee? But then, wouldn't everyone at H.C. Clements be drugged with these Huon particles?" Sam said. "Unless…"

Realization dawned on him. "Unless someone made a cup of coffee especially for Donna," Sam said, whirling around to look at Lance.

"What?!" said Lance. "Me?! Why're you lookin' at me?!"

"Your coffee was always pretty strong, I'll bet," Sam said menacingly. "Stronger than hers. It was probably because yours wasn't diluted with Huon water like hers. Was it?!"

"I-I don't know what you mean, mate!" Lance stammered, backing up.

"That was the reason you brought coffee to Donna," Sam accused, advancing on him. "'No one ever brings the secretaries a coffee.' That's what you said, wasn't it, Donna? Why would you be any different? Unless someone was using you."

Donna looked at Lance in shock. "Is this true?"

"No, babe, of course it's not, I swear!" Lance exclaimed.

"Donna, think about it! I mean, really think!" Sam said.

"But…" Donna blinked several times. "But…he loves me. Don't you?"

"Yes, of course, I do!" said Lance desperately. "This guy and his space boyfriend are clearly insane! We should just go, right now-"

"Oh, it is too late for that," a loud voice from nowhere hissed.

Suddenly, a wall on the other side of the laboratory opened up to reveal a large chamber where there was a huge hole in the center of the room. A huge, matted web was strung across the ceiling. "So long I have waited, hibernating at the edge of the universe until the secret heart was uncovered and called out to waken!"

More of the robots that had crashed the wedding party and had attacked them in the city were standing on either side of the new room, this time dressed in plain black robes and armed with large guns, which they pointed at them. Panicking, Lance ran away.

"Oi, get back here!" Sam called. "Doctor, he's the one-"

"I know, Sam," said the Doctor. "We'll get him. Don't worry."

The Doctor strolled over to where the hole was, hands in the pockets of his brown pinstripe trousers. It seemed like a familiar gesture to Sam and it pulled on his heartstrings. He had a quick flash of the tall blonde Doctor in the cricket uniform, standing the same way. He closed his eyes and shook off the memory. He didn't have time for all that confusion right now.

"Someone's been digging," said the Doctor, studying the hole. "Oh, very Torchwood. Drilled by laser. Tell me, how deep does this chasm go?"

"Down and down, all the way to the center of the Earth!" the voice replied.

"Impossible," said Sam.

"Improbable," the Doctor corrected. "But not impossible. An ordinary drill would never make it very far past the outer mantle. But a powerful enough laser, with a little time, could make it."

"You'd fall forever," said Sam, thinking about how deep that hole would be.

"You'd disintegrate before you reached the bottom," said the Doctor. "But the question is, why dig a hole to the center of the Earth?"

Donna came to the Doctor's side. "Dinosaurs?" she asked.

The Doctor looked Donna in bewilderment. "What?"

"Dinosaurs?" said Donna, shrugging.

"What are you on about, dinosaurs?" the Doctor asked.

"That film, under the Earth, with dinosaurs. Trying to help."

"That's not helping."

"Most likely trying to find an alternate energy source. Maybe digging for more fossil fuels," Sam theorized.

The Doctor smiled at him with pure love and pride. "Atta boy, Sam. Clever to a fault." Sam could feel himself blushing again and looked away.

"Such a sweet couple," the mysterious voice hissed.

"Only a madman talks to thin air, and trust me, you don't want to make me mad," said the Doctor, staring around the room, trying to discern where the voice was projecting from.

"High in the sky. Floating so high on Christmas night."

"I didn't come all this way to talk on the intercom!" the Doctor called. "Come on, let's have a look at you."

"Who are you with such command?"

"I'm the Doctor," said the Time Lord darkly, and Sam felt a slight shudder at the authority in his voice.

"Prepare your best medicines, doctor man, for you will be sick at heart!"

Suddenly, across the room, there was a bright light as the thing teleported in.

"Ugh!" Donna cried.

The thing looked like a cross between a centaur and a giant, bright red arachnid. Its body was a spider, which sprouted half of a humanish body. The person portion was as scarlet as the rest of its body, with gleaming black eyes, pincers, sharpened teeth, and a webbed headpiece with more eyes. It was hissing and spitting and waving some of its front legs at them.

"Racnoss?" the Doctor said in surprise. "But that's impossible, you're one of the Racnoss!"

"Empress of the Racnoss!" the spiderwoman spat. Her words came out in hisses and lisps.

"If you're the Empress, where's the rest of the Racnoss?" the Doctor said. "Or...are you the only one?"

"Such a sharp mind," said the Empress.

"I don't want to be speciesist," Sam muttered to the Doctor, "but I'm guessing she's not a good guy."

"Definitely not," said the Doctor. "The Racnoss come from the Dark Times, billions of years ago. Before the first Time Lord even. They were carnivores, omnivores. They devoured whole planets."

"What, like…the whole thing?" Sam gestured a circle with his hands. "Blimey…"

"Racnoss are born starving," the Empress spit. "Is that our fault?"

"They eat people?" Donna asked fearfully.

"H.C. Clements, did he wear those, those, er, black and white shoes?" the Doctor asked.

"He did," said Donna. "We used to laugh. We used to call him the fat cat in spats."

The Doctor pointed to a pair of feet sticking out of the web across the ceiling. They were wearing the black and white shoes.

"Oh my God!" Donna exclaimed, covering her mouth in shock.

"Mmm. My Christmas dinner," the Empress cackled.

"You shouldn't even exist," the Doctor said to her. "Way back in history, the fledgling Empires went to war against the Racnoss. They were wiped out."

"Except for me!"

Sam felt Donna poke him. He followed her gaze to across the room behind the giant monster. There was someone standing on the spectator's ledge. It was Lance!

Lance put his finger to his lips, signaling them to be quiet. He held up an axe and mimed striking the Racnoss with it.

Sam was surprised. Perhaps Lance had had a change of heart. Perhaps he just hadn't known about the Huon particles in Donna's coffee. Christmas was a time for miracles, after all.

"But that's what I've got inside me," Donna called up to the Racnoss, distracting her so that her fiancé could have time to sneak up on her. "That Huon energy thing. Oi! Look at me, lady, I'm talking. Where do I fit in? How come

I get all stacked up with these Huon particles? Look at me, you! Look me in the eye and tell me!"

"The bride is so feisty," the Racnoss frothed.

Lance was steadily getting closer and closer. "Yes I am!" Donna cried. "And I don't know what you are, you big thing, but a spider's just a spider, and an axe is an axe! Now, do it!" she yelled to Lance.

Lance raised his axe. The Empress turned and hissed at him. Lance froze, staring at the creature, axe hanging aloft in his hands. Suddenly, he looked at Donna and began to laugh. After a moment, the Empress joined in. "That was a good one. Your face!" Lance exclaimed maliciously, pointing at Donna.

"Lance is funny," the Racnoss agreed, snickering.

Donna's face fell. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Sam muttered.

"Sorry for what? Lance, don't be so stupid! Get her!" Donna shouted.

"God, she's thick!" Lance proclaimed. "Months I've had to put up with her. Months! A woman who can't even point to Germany on a map."

"You shut up!" Sam exclaimed.

Donna looked so crestfallen. "So he really was poisoning me. You were right, Sam."

"Now she gets it!" Lance said.

"But we were getting married!" Donna said confusedly.

"Well, I couldn't risk you running off," said Lance, shrugging. "I had to say yes. And then I was stuck with a woman who thinks the height of excitement is a new flavor Pringle. Oh, I had to sit there and listen to all that yap, yap, yap. Oh, Brad and Angelina. Is Posh pregnant? X Factor, Atkins diet, feng shui, split ends, text me, text me, text me! Dear God, the never ending fountain of fat, stupid trivia. I deserve a medal!"

"Oh, is that what she's offered you? The Empress of the Racnoss? What are you, her consort?" the Doctor asked.

"It's better than a night with her," said Lance, pointing to Donna.

Ew, thought Sam.

Donna was trembling as she was trying not to cry. "But I love you," she said quietly.

"That's what made it easy," said Lance cruelly. "It's like you said, Doctor. The big picture. What's the point of it all if the human race is nothing? That's what the Empress can give me. The chance to go out there. To see it. The size of it all. I think you understand that, don't you, Doctor?"

"Who is this little physician?" the Empress inquired.

"She said Martian," Lance replied.

"Oh, I'm sort of homeless," the Doctor shrugged. "But the point is, what's down here? The Racnoss are extinct. What's going to help you four thousand miles down? That's just the molten core of the Earth, isn't it?"

"I think he wants us to talk," Lance laughed derisively.

"I think so, too," the Empress hissed back.

"Well, tough! All we need is Donna," Lance called.

"Kill this chattering little doctor man!" the Empress ordered.

"DON'T YOU HURT HIM!" Sam bellowed fiercely, immediately stepping in front of his Time Lord.

"And his sweet little pet as well!" the Racnoss added.

"No, no, Sam. It's all right," said the Doctor, touching Sam's shoulder.

"No, I won't let them!" Sam declared, his face twisted into a snarl as he glared at the Racnoss and the poisonous Lance.

"At arms!" At the Empress's command, all the robots on the sidelines who'd been quiet this whole time, pointed their guns at the Doctor and Sam.

"Ah, now, except-"

"Take aim!"

"Well, I just want to point out the obvious-"

"They won't hit the bride. They're such very good shots," the Empress hissed.

"Just, just, just, just, just hold on! Hold on just a tick. Just a tiny little, just a little tick." The Doctor jumped around. "If you think about it, the particles activated in Donna and drew her inside my spaceship. So reverse it…" The Doctor pulled a Huon container out and twisted the knob on top. Donna immediately began to glow golden with energy. "…and the spaceship comes to her."

Sam smiled widely as he heard the familiar wheezing of the TARDIS-faint at first, then stronger, as the control room began to appear around them.

"Fire!" screeched the Racnoss, but it was too late. The trio was already safe and snug inside the TARDIS.

Chapter 44: Time Lord Rising, Volume 4

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Runaway Bride" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: December 25, 2006 (4/4).
**Warning**: adult language.

Chapter Text

"Off we go!" said the Doctor, hurrying over to the console and getting them out of there. "Oh, do you know what we said before about time machines? Well, we lied. And now we're going to use it. We need to find out what the Empress of the Racnoss is digging up. If something's buried at the planet's core, it must've been there since the beginning. That's just brilliant. Molto bene! I've always wanted to see this. Donna, Sam, we're going further back than I've ever been before!"

The Doctor hadn't notice that Donna was crying.

"Hey," said Sam, coming over to her, taking her hand. "I'm sorry. Really, I am."

"He-he told me he loved me," Donna stuttered, tears streaking down her face.

"I know, and he's a rat. A bloody filthy sewer rat, who deserves to have his wanker cut off," said Sam, petting her shoulder.

Donna gasped as she tried to breath in, calm herself down. "I-is it true? What h-he said? That I'm…dull and stupid?"

"No, no, of course you aren't," said Sam, shaking his head fervently. "You're funny and bloody brilliant."

"The-then why would he do this?" Donna whimpered, wiping her cheeks.

"You know what, Donna?" said Sam, looking straight into her eyes. "Fuck him. Fuck him! He doesn't deserve you! He's scum, pure scum."

"Yeah," said Donna, nodding. She sniffled hard. "Yeah, he is! Fuck him! He's a piece of shit! He never loved me, he just used me, and you're right, Sam! If he wants to marry to a big ugly spider from space, well, just let him! She'll probably eat him on the wedding night!"

"That's right," said Sam, smiling encouragingly. "Fuck him."

Donna was smiling, but she still had some tears left in her, so Sam hugged her while she cried.

"Thanks," she sniffled. "You really are a great guy, Sam. If only you weren't gay."

"I'm not gay, Donna."

"Yeah, you kind of are," said Donna, looking over at the Doctor, then back at Sam.

Sam sighed.

The Doctor then cleared his throat from across the room. "We've arrived," he said cautiously. "Want to see?"

Donna shrugged listlessly. "I suppose," she said.

"No human's ever seen this. You two'll be the first," the Doctor said, leading them to the front door.

"All I want to see is my bed," said Donna sadly.

The Doctor opened the front doors of the TARDIS. "Donna Noble, Sam Tyler…welcome to the creation of the Earth."

Sam looked out in amazement. He could never get over how beautiful space was. The sky was not black, but a whole spectrum of pinks and purples and oranges. The gas that had yet to form planets and stars wisped around, forming rainbow clouds. There were bits of rocks floating around, like goldfish in a bowl.

"We've gone back four point six billion years," said the Doctor. "There's no solar system, not yet. Only dust and rocks and gas. That's the Sun, over there. Brand new. Just beginning to burn."

"Where's the Earth?" asked Donna.

"All around us," the Doctor replied. "In the dust."

"Puts the wedding in perspective," said Donna. "Lance was right, we're just tiny."

"In a whole universe that's always growing and expanding, always pushing its own limits, going on forever and forever…we are so small and insignificant," Sam said in wonder. "Doesn't it make you feel cold?"

The Doctor smiled at him, then looked back out at the grand vista. "But the question is, what was that first rock?"

"Doctor, look," Sam said, pointing out there. Out of a red gas cloud, a spiky looking conglomerate came floating out.

"That's the Racnoss?" Sam asked the Doctor.

"Yes," said the Doctor. "But what are they doing?"

His question was about to be answered. The pointed ship started to glow, like the Huon energy, and all the rocks around it were pulled in and stuck to the ship.

"Oh, they didn't just bury something at the center of the Earth," said the Doctor.

"They became the center of the Earth?" Sam finished for him.

"Yes. There's a whole nest of Racnoss waiting in the Earth's core, and the Empress is preparing to release them. We gotta get out of here!"

The Empress hissed in anger as the Doctor dismantled her roboforms. "My children will feast on Martian flesh," she spat at the Doctor.

"Oh, but I'm not from Mars," said the Doctor darkly.

"Then where?"

The Doctor's voice was full of command, and Sam could see the Oncoming Storm thundering inside his soul. "My home planet is far away and long since gone. But its name lives on."

Sam's skin started tingling. His heart and stomach were dancing a fast-paced salsa.

"Gallifrey."

At the very word, Sam's brain was overtaken by a surge of memories. A giant school where the students wore rust colored robes; a large field covered in red grass and lavender wild flowers, in the distance silver forests and white capped mountains; a city made of gold, entrapped in a bubble; war, a terrible war; a young boy with golden curls holding him, telling him he loved him.

ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR. ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR. ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR.

"Sam!" The man had collapsed, clutching his head. "SAM!" the Doctor cried again as Sam, in agony, rolled over, off of the balcony they were standing on onto the hard tile floor below. "SAM!"

"I got him!" Donna exclaimed, rushing over to the unconscious man. She laid her head on his chest. "Still breathin'! Probably just got some bad bruises," she called to the Doctor.

The Doctor glared at the Racnoss. "What have you done to him?!"

"The weakling mortal's swooning spell was none of my doing," the spider cackled.

"You're lying," the Doctor growled. "You've just hurt someone I care about very, very much. That is not a smart move."

The Doctor pulled some of the roboforms' explosive Christmas baubles out of his pocket and threw them into the air. With the robots' controller, he guided them to certain locations in the facility-some to a water main, which caused the pipes to burst and flood the place. Some others went to gas vents, which caused the room to light on fire. The Racnoss stood in the middle of it all, howling for mercy. The building was perishing twice, once in fire, once in ice. And the Doctor stood over all of it, watching as it all went down.

"Doctor!" Donna cried. "You can stop now!"

The Doctor seemed unreachable, hatred blazing in his eyes.

"Doctor!" Donna screamed. "Is this what Sam would want?!"

The Doctor blinked, coming back to himself. He looked down at the bride in shock.

"Come on!" he exclaimed, running down to her and his unconscious companion. He scooped Sam up into his arms. The shorter man didn't stir. He was out cold-he must have hit his head badly. "Let's go!"

"NOOOOOO! MY CHILDREN!" the Empress wailed, as she and the rest of her kind burned.

The little blue spaceship materialized outside of Donna's house in Chiswick. Donna and the Doctor stepped out. "All the Huon particles should be gone," the Doctor told her. "No damage, you're fine."

"Yeah, but apart from that, I missed my wedding, lost my job and became a widow on the same day," Donna said glumly.

The Doctor looked at her sadly. "I couldn't save him," he said.

"He deserved it…no, he didn't. Will Sam be alright?" Donna asked, looking concerned.

The Doctor nodded. "Should be. Nevertheless, think I'll take him to a hospital, get him checked out. Just to be sure."

"But you're a Doctor," said Donna.

"Not that kind."

Donna sighed. "I'd better get inside." She looked over her shoulder. "They'll be worried."

"Best Christmas present they could have," said the Doctor. "Oh no, I forgot. You hate Christmas."

"Yes, I do," Donna agreed.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Even…" He reached inside the TARDIS and touched something in the inner doorframe, which made the light on top of the box turn yellow and shoot a beam into the night sky. "…if it snows?" Suddenly, white flakes began to fall.

Donna gasped, staring at the snow in wonder. "I can't believe you did that!"

"Oh, basic atmospheric excitation," said the Doctor, shrugging.

Donna laughed. "Merry Christmas."

"And you," the Doctor replied. "So, what will you do with yourself now?"

"Not getting married, for starters," said Donna, rolling her eyes. "And I'm not going to temp anymore!...I don't know. Travel. See a bit more of planet Earth. Walk in the dust. Just go out there and do something."

"Well, you could always…" The Doctor trailed off.

"What?" Donna asked.

The Doctor shrugged. "Come with us."

Donna smiled sadly. "No."

"Okay."

"I can't."

"No, that's fine."

"No, but really. Everything we did today. Do you live your life like that? You and Sam?"

"Not all the time," the Doctor said.

"I think you do," Donna said. "And I…couldn't."

"But you've seen it out there. It's beautiful."

"And it's terrible," Donna amended. "That place was flooding and burning and they were dying, and you were stood there like…I don't know…a stranger. And then you made it snow, I mean, you scare me to death!"

The Doctor nodded reluctantly. "Right. Thanks then, Donna. Good luck. And just…be magnificent."

Donna watched sadly as the blue box disappeared into the night.

Sam cracked his eyes open.

He was lying on his back, and he was in a big white room. There were several people in white coats standing around him, and one big bald bloke in an ugly striped suit. He could hear rain somewhere, distantly.

Sam's head lolled to the side. There was a dark young woman with her hand on his chest. Finding his heartbeat. "Doc…" he murmured.

"It's alright, Mister Tyler," said the woman. "You've had a bump on the head, cracked a few ribs, but-"

Sam didn't hear the rest. He was already passing out again.

The next time Sam woke up, he was still lying in the same place, but he was alone. He heard a thumping noise, like marching, but super heavy. He blinked a few times and tried to raise his head. It immediately made his brain swim.

He looked out the door that was place directly in front of his bed. There were big, darkly dressed soldiers passing by his room. Sam blinked confusedly. They…no, that was impossible! They looked like…they looked like rhinoceroses!

One turned and entered his room. It pulled out a flashlight looking device and shined a blue light in his face. "Human. You will be catalogued," it said a very low, computerized sounding voice. It grabbed his hand and marked a black X on the back of it with a marker. Then it turned and stomped back out.

Sam groaned and fell back asleep.

The third time he woke up, he was back in his bedroom on the TARDIS. His head was throbbing slightly, and his torso felt stiff. Sam then realized he was wearing bandages around his chest. He grunted as he tried to sit up.

"Oh, don't get up!" a female voice exclaimed. Sam's head whipped around as the woman from the white room got up from his armchair in the corner and hurried over to him. "Are you alright?" she asked, immediately taking his wrist-checking his pulse.

"Um…yeah," said Sam slowly.

"Sorry. The Doctor asked me to keep an eye on you," said the woman. She was pretty. She was slender, with long dark brown hair pinned up in a spiky bun, and she had big dark eyes and long lashes. She had shed the lab coat she was wearing before and was now dressed in blue jeans, brown boots, and a pinkish-purple top with spaghetti straps.

"How do you know the Doctor?" Sam asked.

"Oh, well…" The lady laughed. "That's a long story. First, he admitted you to the hospital. He said you had a bad fall, hit your head. I was the one who did your checkup. I'm a medical student. Anyway, you had a concussion, but you should be alright."

Sam tenderly patted the back of his head. It was a little sore. "Um, well…thank you."

"No problem," said the woman, smiling.

"But…we're not in the hospital anymore. This is my bedroom," said Sam, looking around in confusion.

"Well, yeah. You were okay, so the Doctor brought you back here," said the woman.

"But…well, I don't mean to be rude, but…I don't think you have to take care of me once I leave the hospital, right?" Sam laughed a little, but it wasn't a funny laugh.

"Oh. Well. That's the other thing." The woman grinned. "The Doctor asked me to travel with him!"

Sam stared at her in shock.

Chapter 45: Time Lord Rising, Volume 5

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Shakespeare Code" by Gareth Roberts, original air date: April 7, 2007 (1/2).

Chapter Text

"I would not wish any companion in the world but you." –Miranda, "The Tempest", Act 3, Scene 1

Sam carefully ambled his way down the stairs, holding his torso. "There he is!" the Doctor called as he came down. "Man of the hour. How are you, Sam?"

"Alright," grunted Sam as he continued to struggle to descend.

"You want me to help you?" said the woman, Martha Jones, the Doctor's new companion, starting to walk over to him.

"No! No, I got it." Sam got down off the final step, then walked normally over to the console where they were standing. He was fine on solid ground, but with stairs, not so much.

"I was worried about you. You didn't wake up for two days. Missed an invasion-on the moon!" said the Doctor gleefully.

Martha nodded in agreement. "The hospital where I worked was, I don't know, transported there or something by these really big rhino-looking creatures-"

"Wait," said Sam, blinking several times. "You mean I didn't imagine that?"

"Nope!" said the Doctor. "Those were the Judoon. Space mercenaries, hired to seek out a plasmavore who had killed the young princess of a small planet…well, anyway, long story short, Martha saved the day! Hooray!" The Doctor beamed at her. "And as a reward, I told her I'd take her on a trip. Least I could do, after she saved my life. And patched you up, too. Not bad, for a day in the life of a medical student."

Martha blushed. "Really, it was nothing."

"So…Martha's coming with us?" Sam said.

"Yup," said the Doctor, rocking forward on his plimsolls.

"But just for one trip," Martha added, looking at the Doctor. She was smiling at him in a way that Sam thought was all too familiar. "Then he's taking me back home."

"Oh. Kay." Sam felt a tiny bit of relief. Not that he cared if the Doctor had someone else on board. Why should he? "So…where are we going?"

The Doctor grinned, grabbed his long trenchcoat off of the hatstand and threw it on. He stood in front of the door. "Outside this door…brave new world."

"Where are we?" Sam and Martha asked at the same time, then looked at each other queerly.

The Doctor smiled sneakily. He opened the door and said, "Take a look."

Martha grinned and quickly dashed outside. Sam followed her, only to give the Doctor a quizzical look. The Doctor shrugged, smiling mischievously. Sam gave him a silent "I'm watching you, Time Lord" gesture, then followed the woman out.

"Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?" –Phoebe, "As You Like It", Act 5, Scene 2

They had actually turned up in Elizabethan times. The Doctor revealed that he planned to take them to see a play by none other than William Shakespeare.

"Shakespeare," Sam said to himself. "Not bad. My first outing, he took me to see the Earth burn to a crisp."

"Isn't this exciting?!" Martha had come up beside him and grabbed his arm. "I mean, we've bloody traveled in time! And now we're about to go see a Shakespeare play at the Globe Theatre! Do you think he'll be there? William Shakespeare, I mean. Maybe we'll get to meet him! Imagine that, getting to say you've met William Shakespeare. Oh, Sam, you don't know how lucky you are! To get to do this all the time. See so many different places and times…and with such a wonderful man." Martha's gaze was on the Doctor, who was walking ahead, looking around at the scenery, paying them no mind.

"Pardon?" said Sam, giving her a look.

Martha's cheeks darkened. "Oh…um. Don't tell him I said that. It's just…well, he is handsome. Isn't he?"

Sam started getting a sour feeling in his stomach about Miss Martha Jones. "Dunno. Guess," he said, trying not to sound short or shove her hand off of his arm.

"Sam! Martha!" the Doctor called. As they hurried over to him, he pointed. "There it is! The Globe Theater. Well, technically, not a globe, it's actually a tetra-decagon, but still. Newly built. And inside, the one and only."

"Oh my God," said Martha, amazed.

"Close. William Shakespeare," the Time Lord said, grinning at her cheekily. He offered her his elbow. "Miss Jones, would you accompany me to the theatre?"

"Mister Smith, I think I will," said Martha, gushing as she linked arms with him.

Sam watched them go off together, and muttered to himself, "And Mister Tyler will just sod off, I guess." Then he stomped after them.

"Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste/wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste/and therefore is Love said to be a child/because in choice he is so oft beguiled." –Helena, "A Midsummer Night's Dream", Act 1, Scene 1.

Even though something about Martha's presence (and her apparent infatuation with the Doctor) irked Sam, he very much enjoyed the production. He realized, in amazement, that he was seeing the premiere of Shakespeare's Loves Labours' Lost. As in, the very first time it was ever put on by any company ever. And under the direction of William Shakespeare himself, no less! Now this was what time travel was all about!

He, the Doctor, and Martha stood up and clapped wildly with the audience. "That's amazing! Just amazing. It's worth putting up with the smell," Martha exclaimed. "And those are men dressed as women, yeah?"

"London never changes," the Doctor quipped.

Sam laughed. "Hey, isn't Shakespeare supposed to come out and greet the audience or something? Oi, author, author!" he yelled. Then he looked at the Doctor. "Wait. Do people say that?"

Suddenly, a man behind Sam began to call, "Author, author!"

The Doctor shrugged, grinning. "They do now."

Finally, the man himself came out. Sam couldn't believe it. "But…I thought he was bald," he stammered out.

"That came later," said the Doctor, laughing.

Shakespeare waved at the audience for a few minutes. "Genius," said the Doctor, marveling. "He's a genius. The genius. The most human human there's ever been. Now we're going to hear him speak. Always he chooses the best words. New, beautiful, brilliant words-"

"Ah, shut ya big fat mouths!" Shakespeare shouted at the audience. They roared with laughter.

Sam gave the Doctor a smug look. "You were saying?"

The Doctor looked slightly disappointed. "Oh, well," he shrugged.

"You should never meet your heroes, they always say," Martha added.

Shakespeare looked out into the crowd. "I know what you're all saying. Loves Labour's Lost, that's a funny ending, isn't it? It just stops! Will the boys get the girls?...well, don't get your hose in a tangle, you'll find out soon." The audience began to moan. "Yeah, yeah. All in good time. You don't rush a genius." Shakespeare bowed, making everyone laugh again.

Suddenly, he straightened. He had an odd look in his eye for an instant. "When?...Tomorrow night."

The audience cheered.

As the actors looked at each other nervously, Shakespeare went on. "The premiere of my brand new play. A sequel, no less! And I call it…Love's Labour's Won!"

The audience applauded one final time, and began to file out. Martha looked up at the Doctor quizzically. "Er, I'm no expert, but I've never heard of Love's Labour's Won."

"That's because it doesn't exist," Sam told her. "It was the one they never found, wasn't it?"

"Exactly," said the Doctor. "The lost play. And no one knows what happened to it."

"Blimey," said Sam. "It's a bit like The Da Vinci Code, isn't it?"

Martha looked Sam. "Have you got a camera phone or something? We could film it, sell it at home, make a fortune!"

"Absolutely not," said Sam and the Doctor at the same time.

Martha looked sheepish. "Bad idea?"

"Very bad," Sam replied.

They shuffled along the street with the other theater patrons. "Why did it disappear, Doctor?" Sam asked.

"Hmm…" The Doctor looked back over his shoulder at the Globe. "Well, this was only supposed to be a quick trip for Martha…but I suppose we could stay a bit longer. If that's alright with you?"

Martha grinned. "I'd love it!"

"Bet you would," Sam muttered under his breath as they turned back.

"Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly at your service." –Ferdinand, "The Tempest", Act 1, Scene 3

"Hello!" said the Doctor, poking his head into the great playwright's office. His two companions following after. "Excuse me, not interrupting, am I? Mister Shakespeare, isn't it?"

"Oh, no. No, no, no," Shakespeare groaned, rubbing his face with his hand tiresomely. "Who let you in? No autographs. No, you can't have yourself sketched with me. And please don't ask where I get my ideas from. Thanks for the interest. Now be a good boy and shove…"

Shakespeare's gaze had landed on Martha, standing on the Doctor's right. "Hey, nonny nonny," he said, grinning. "Sit right down here next to me."

"Did he actually just say 'hey, nonny nonny'," Sam muttered flatly to himself.

Martha blushed as she and the Doctor took seats before Shakespeare's desk. There were only the two, so Sam was forced to stand.

"Sweet lady," said Shakespeare, only with eyes for Martha. "Such unusual clothes. So…fitted."

"Er, verily, forsooth. Egads-" Martha began to spout.

"No, no, don't do that. Don't," the Doctor muttered to her. Sam held back a snicker.

The Doctor flashed Shakespeare his leather wallet with the psychic paper inside. "I'm Sir Doctor of TARDIS and these are my companions, Miss Martha Jones, and Sir Sam Tyler of the Powell Estates."

Sam was surprised to see the psychic paper. "When'd you get that back?" he whispered. "I thought it was lost at Canary Wharf."

"Snuck back in and got it while you were sleeping," the Doctor said with a shrug.

"Interesting, that bit of paper," said Shakespeare, pointing to the wallet. "It's blank."

The Doctor grinned widely. "Oh, that's very clever. That proves it. Absolute genius."

Wait, thought Sam. But I never see anything on the paper either!

"No, it says so right there. Sir Doctor, Martha Jones, Sir Sam. It says so," Martha insisted, also looking at the wallet. Sam peeked over her shoulder, but didn't see anything.

"And I say it's blank," Shakespeare countered. He looked at Sam. "I believe your friend agrees with me."

The Doctor and Martha looked at Sam expectantly. "Er, yeah," said Sam, blushing. "It looks blank to me, too."

"Why is it that your friend and I see naught whereas you and your delicious blackamoor lady insist there are words to read?" Shakespeare inquired of the Doctor.

"Psychic paper. Er, long story," the Doctor said.

Martha was staring at the playwright hawkishly. "What did you say? 'Blackamoor'?"

"Oops. Isn't that a word we use nowadays? An Ethiop girl? A swarth? A Queen of Afric?" Shakespeare tried.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," said Martha.

"It's just a word they used for dark-skinned person," said Sam. "You know, like, 'Othello, the Moor of Venice'. He doesn't mean anything by it."

"Othello, the Moor of Venice," Shakespeare repeated. "An interesting turn of phrase. Is he a lover? A fighter? A cold hearted brute? Hot blooded swine? Perhaps I shall write an epic."

"You should," said Sam, winking at the Doctor.

Suddenly, a fat, bearded man in expensive clothes and wearing a gold chain of office stormed in. "Excuse me!" he blustered at Shakespeare. "Hold hard a moment. This is abominable behavior. A new play with no warning? I demand to see a script, Mister Shakespeare. As Master of the Revels, every new script must be registered at my office and examined by me before it can be performed."

"Tomorrow morning, first thing, I'll send it round," Shakespeare said.

"I don't work to your schedule, you work to mine," the man said snottily. "The script, now!"

"I can't. I haven't finished the final scene."

"Then tomorrow's performance is cancelled."

There was a ringing silence in the room. "It's all go around here, isn't it?" Martha piped up quietly.

"I'm returning to my office for a banning order," the official stated. "If it's the last thing I do, Love's Labour's Won will never be played." He turned on his heel and marched out.

They watched him go. "Well, that's a bit unfortunate. Sorry, mate," Sam said to Shakespeare.

"Well, I guess we know now," said the Doctor, looking at his two companions, careful not to say anything too revealing.

"Too bad," said Martha. "I was hoping it'd be a bit more mysterious."

Suddenly, they heard a scream from outside. The four shared a look, then rushed outside.

The official was standing in the street, geysers of water shooting from his mouth. "Bloody hell!" Sam exclaimed.

"Out of my way, I'm a Doctor!" the Time Lord cried, rushing over to the man.

"So am I," Martha added, following the Doctor's lead. "Sir? Sir, are you alright?"

But the man could not answer. He just kept spewing water from his mouth. Then, suddenly, his body became rigid. He fell onto the ground…and died!

"Oh my God!" said Martha, leaping away from the cadaver.

Sam was at the Doctor's side in a flash. Martha tried to administer CPR on the man, but more water gurgled out of his mouth. "What the hell is that?!" she said.

"I've never seen a death like it," the Doctor muttered. "His lungs are full of water. He drowned and then, I don't know…it was like a blow to the heart, an invisible blow. Good mistress," he called to Shakespeare's hostess, Dolly Bailey. "This poor fellow has died from a sudden imbalance of the humors. A natural if unfortunate demise. Call a constable and have him taken away."

"Yes, sir," said Dolly.

"I'll do it, ma'am," said the serving girl, rushing off.

"And why are you telling them that?" Sam asked him.

"This lot still have got one foot in the Dark Ages. If I tell them the truth, they'll panic and think it was witchcraft," the Doctor replied.

"Okay. What was it then?" Martha inquired.

The Doctor looked at them both, dead on. "Witchcraft."

Chapter 46: Time Lord Rising, Volume 6

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Shakespeare Code" by Gareth Roberts, original air date: April 7, 2007 (2/2).

Chapter Text

"I humbly do beseech of your pardon for too much loving you." –Iago, "Othello", Act 3, Scene 3

Dolly showed Martha to one room and Sam and the Doctor to another. "Oops," said Sam, as they went in. "Only one bed."

The thought of Sam and the Doctor sleeping in the same bed made Sam's skin tingle in ways it really, really should not.

"So what? Plenty of room. Come on." The Doctor plopped down on the, in Sam's opinion, obscenely tiny bed.

"Er…okay," Sam said unassuredly as he sat down on the lumpy mattress next to the alien. The Doctor was sitting up with his arms crossed, lost in thought. "So…magic? Seriously? I mean, it's all kind of Harry Potter-ish, isn't it? But it's not really witchcraft, right? There's some sort of scientific explanation, isn't there, Doctor?"

"Maybe…Sam, I think we need to talk." The Doctor rolled over to look at him.

Uh oh. Here it was. Sam's mouth went dry. "What about?" he played dumb.

"You," said the Doctor. "Me. Martha."

"Oh," said Sam, trying to keep an even voice.

"You don't like her."

"What? No! She's fine. Nice enough. Interested. Why wouldn't I like her?"

"Listen, I've just been paying attention to her because this is her one trip. You've had dozens. I didn't forget about you or anything."

"No, yeah, I know," said Sam, scooting down and laying on his side. The Doctor did too, so now they were laying on the bed facing each other. Their faces were so close together, Sam could see every freckle, count every eyelash, distinguish every every miniscule wrinkle on the Time Lord's pretty face. "She's fine. Everything's fine."

The Doctor looked at him for a moment, then opened his mouth. "Sam, I just don't want you to think I picked her up…just to…"

"What? Make me jealous?" Sam laughed fakely. "Doctor…I'm not jealous. Because if I were…well, that would imply that I…and I don't. And you don't. Right? Right. So there's no problem."

The Doctor studied him. His intense yet soft brown eyes fixated on him, making Sam feel quivery all over. "Okay," said the Doctor, very, very softly.

Sam nodded firmly. He had to pretend everything was okay, he couldn't love this man, he just couldn't. "Good. Glad we got that off of our chests…g'night, Doctor," he said, rolling over so he wouldn't have to look at the heartsbreak poorly hidden behind those big brown eyes anymore.

"Goodnight, Sam."

Sam leaned up, blew out the candle, and the room went dark. But Sam didn't shut his eyes for a very long time.

Neither did the Doctor.

Suddenly, halfway into the night, the Doctor and Sam heard a woman's scream. The two men sat up at the same time, looked at each other, then wordlessly rushed out.

"What was that?!" Martha too had awoken and emerged from her room.

"Don't know, come on!" The trio rushed into Shakespeare's office, where the great playwright was fast asleep at his desk, quill still clutched in his hand, and his hostess was lying on the floor, dead.

"Whuh?" Shakespeare woke with a start as the Doctor, Martha, and Sam came in.

Martha did what a doctor would immediately do-check on Dolly. "Doctor, Sam, she's dead," said Martha.

"What?" said Shakespeare, standing up and gazing at the hostess in shock.

"Her heart gave out-died of fright," said the Doctor, also checking her.

Sam noticed that the window behind Shakespeare's desk was open. It hadn't been that way before. He walked over to it and gazed out.

Superimposed on a grand full moon, there was a dark shape hanging aloft in the sky. A woman, dressed in long robes, sitting astride a broomstick. The woman let out a high cackle as she zoomed out of sight.

"Doctor!" Sam called.

"What? What is it?" the Doctor asked, rushing to his side. "What did you see?"

"I…" Sam looked at him in bemusement. "I saw a witch."

"Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move his aides, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love." –Hamlet's letter to Ophelia, "Hamlet", Act 2, Scene 2

The night of the play, the Doctor and Martha set out to find the "witches", while Sam stayed at the Globe to make sure nothing happened during the play. But when Shakespeare had an unexpected collapse onstage, Sam immediately rushed off to find his traveling mates. He tracked them down to a house on All Hallows Street (ironic). He crept inside and hid around the corner when he saw the Doctor and Martha confronting one of the Carrionites. Martha tried to using the naming technique the Doctor had used before, but failed. The alien instead made Martha pass out. "And as for you, Sir Doctor…fascinating. There is no name," said the witch. "Why would a man hide his title in such despair? Oh. But look." She grinned evilly. "There's still one word with the power of the day."

"The naming won't work on me," said the Doctor.

"But your heart is soft! Like the fleece of a lamb. For you'd do anything for your precious…Sam."

Sam's breath caught.

The Doctor glared at her with all the rage on a 900+ year old alien. "Oh, big mistake. Because that name keeps me fighting! So whatever you're up to…" He walked up to her, nose to nose. "You've got to get past me."

"Oh, that should be a pleasure, considering my enemy has such a…" the witch ran her hand through the Doctor's brown hair. "…handsome shape."

The blood in Sam's ears thundered.

"Oh, now that's one form of magic that's definitely not going to work on me," said the Doctor dryly.

"We'll see." The witch yanked a couple of hairs out of the Doctor's head.

"Ow!" The Doctor put a hand to where she'd extracted the hairs. "What was that?!"

"Souvenir," said the witch innocently.

"Well, give it back!" As the Doctor lunged for the witch, she flew out of the open window, just out of reach. "Well now that's just cheating," said the Doctor.

"Behold, Doctor. Men are nothing to Carrionites but puppets." The witch produced a small cornhusk doll and added the Doctor's hair to it.

"Now you might call that magic, but I'd call a DNA replication module!" the Doctor said.

"What good is your science now?" the witch asked. Then she stabbed the doll in the heart, and the Doctor, with a shout, fell the floor. Cackling, the witch flew away.

"Doctor!" Sam sprung from the shadows and rushed to his friend. "I've got you-hey wait, you're breathing!"

The Doctor opened one eye and smiled cheekily. "Two hearts."

"Oh!" Sam thwacked him in the chest exasperatedly.

"Ooh, do that again, a little to the right," the Doctor instructed.

Sam landed a blow right on the Doctor's right pectoral. "Ow! Other right!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"Sorry," said Sam, striking the other side and restarting the Doctor's heart.

"Good, good, now on the back-how do you people cope? Dah, lovely!" The Doctor sprang right up. "Badda boomba! Martha?" The Doctor ran over to the young woman who was lying unconscious on the floor across the room, leaving Sam alone. "Martha? You awake?"

"Ummmm," Martha moaned, slowly sitting up.

"There she is, she's a trooper," said the Doctor, helping her to her feet. "Well, Sam, don't just sit there, we've got a play to stop, come on!"

With a huff, Sam got up from the floor and followed after the two. He really hoped this wasn't becoming a habit.

"The course of true love never did run smooth." –Lysander, "A Midsummer Night's Dream", Act 1, Scene 2

As the other Carrionites flew from the sphere and spiraled about the theater, the trio stood there with Shakespeare as he doled out some magical rhymes of his own. "Close up this din of hateful dire decay, decomposition of witches' plot! You thieve my brain, consider me your toy! My doting Doctor tells me I am not! Foul Carrionites, cease your show! Between the points…" Shakespeare looked to the Doctor for reference.

"Seven-six-one-three-nine-oh!" the Doctor supplied.

"Seven-six-one-three-nine-oh!" Shakespeare repeated. "Banished like a tinker's cuss, I say to thee…"

"Uh…Expelliarmus!" Sam shouted.

"Expelliarmus!" Shakespeare cried.

"Expelliarmus!" the Doctor added gleefully.

The witches were sucked back into the sphere which they came from, along with all the pages of Shakespeare's new play.

"Love Labours' Won," said the Doctor. "There it goes."

Later, the next day, the Doctor, Martha, and Sam were preparing to leave, the Carrionite sphere in the Doctor's possession. "We've got to get Martha back to her home."

"You mean travel on through time and space?" Shakespeare said.

The Doctor, Martha, and Sam, all started. "You what?" the Doctor asked.

"You're from another world like the Carrionites and Martha and Sam are from the future," said Shakespeare, shrugging. "It's not hard to work out."

"You really are a genius," said Sam, laughing.

"That's incredible, you're incredible," the Doctor added in amazement.

"We are alike in many ways, Doctor. Martha…" The playwright turned to her. "Let me say goodbye to you with a new verse. A sonnet for my dark lady." He took her hand. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely, more temperate…"

Sam and the Doctor were silently cracking up behind his back. "Will!" someone shouted all of a sudden. One of the actors was running in. "You'll never believe it. She's here!"

"Who's here?" Sam said.

"She wants to see the performance! The whole town's been talking about it," the actor continued excitedly. "It's her, it's really her!"

"Who?" Sam repeated.

At that moment, a small party of people entered, including a woman dressed in a grand gown and jewels, a crown on top of her head.

The Doctor's mouth fell open. "Queen Elizabeth the first!" he exclaimed excitedly.

The Queen stared at him. "Doctor?!"

"What?"

"My sworn enemy!"

"What?!" the Doctor said.

"Oh, what did you do?" said Sam.

"Off with his head!" the Queen shrieked.

"What?!"

"Never mind what, just run!" The travelers booked it out of the theater.

"Oh, Sam," said Shakespeare, grabbing his arm. "There is something else I noticed about you that I did not mention in front of the Doctor. Let me put it in this way: Love is merely a madness: and, I tell you, deserves as as well a dark house and a whip, as madmen do: and the reason why they are not so punished and cured, is, that the lunacy is so ordinary, that the whippers are in love too."

"You should write that down," said Sam, with a hint of a smile. "Goodbye, Will. And thank you."

"Sam, come on!" the Doctor yelled as Sam raced down the street toward the TARDIS, the Queen's men in full pursuit. He just managed to jump in, the Doctor shutting the door to the box, before an arrow pierced the wood of the outside.

"What did you to that poor woman!" Sam exclaimed as the Doctor frantically set a course for the 21st century.

"I haven't done anything! Haven't even met her before today!" the Doctor yelped.

"First Victoria, now Elizabeth the first. You're setting quite the track record for yourself," Sam teased.

The Doctor gave him a surreptitious look. "Go thee, and fill another."

Sam just laughed.

"They are in the very wrath of love, and they will go together. Clubs cannot part them." –Rosalind, "As You Like It", Act 5, Scene 2

Chapter 47: Time Lord Rising, Volume 7

Notes:

Chapter based on "Gridlock" by Russell T Davies, original air date: April 14, 2007

Chapter Text

"Just one trip. That's what I said," the Doctor said. "One trip in the TARDIS, and then home."

Sam secretly smiled.

"Although..." the Doctor continued, slowly. "I suppose we could stretch the definition."

"What?" said Sam and Martha together; Martha, excitedly, Sam, disapprovingly.

"Take one trip into the past, one trip into the future. How do you fancy that?" the Doctor asked Martha.

Martha grinned and shrugged. "No complaints from me."

"How about...a different planet?" the Doctor suggested.

Martha leapt up eagerly off of her stool. "Can we go to yours?" she whispered.

Sam looked at the Doctor and watched his face fall at the mention of it. The Doctor quickly brightened his voice again. "Ah, there's plenty of other places!" He started up the TARDIS.

"Er...what about New Earth? Didn't get to see that much of it last time," Sam quickly suggested.

Martha was relentless. "Come on, though. I mean, planet of the Time Lords. That's got to be worth a look. What's it like?"

Sam swallowed.

"Well, it's beautiful, yeah," said the Doctor brusquely.

"Is it like, you know...outer space cities, all spires and stuff?" Martha inquired, demonstrating with her hands, visualizing.

"I suppose it is," the Doctor muttered.

"New Earth is brilliant, huge skyscrapers, hover crafts, whole bit," Sam broke in, trying desperately to derail the conversation. His headache was returning with every word the other two were saying.

Martha wasn't listening. "Great big temples and cathedrals!"

"Yeah," sighed the Doctor.

"Lots of planets in the sky?" Martha said.

The Doctor looked off into the distance, as if he could see the planet's landscape. "The sky's a burnt orange...with the Citadel enclosed in a mighty glass dome, shining under the twin suns. Beyond that, the mountains go on forever. Slopes of deep red grass, capped with snow."

Sam sat down on the jumpseat, feeling weak in the knees. His head was pounding. One two three four. One two three four.

"Can we go there?" Martha beseeched.

The Doctor snapped out of his reverie. "Nah. Where's the fun for me?! I don't want to go home. Instead, this is much better. Year five billion and fifty-three, planet New Earth. Isn't that what you said, Sam? Second hope of mankind. Fifty thousand light years from your old world, and we're slap bang in the middle of New New York." The TARDIS came to a jittering halt, and the Doctor grabbed his coat from the rack and threw it on over his bony frame. "Although, technically it's the fifteenth New York from the original, so it's New New New New New New New New New New New New New New York. One of the most dazzling cities ever built."

The Doctor ushered Martha out the door, and was about to follow, when he noticed Sam was still sitting across the room. "Sam? Coming?"

"Mmwhat?" Sam looked up, shaking his head. "Oh. Yeah." He grabbed his hoodie and pulled it on over his head, the thick fabric ruffling his messy hair even more.

The Doctor looked at him sideways. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing? There's no thing," said Sam.

"Yes there is, it's that lost-in-thought thing you do sometimes, are you alright?"

"I'm fine! I'm swell. Peachy keen, couldn't be better," Sam babbled, walking backward toward the door, his arms extended nonchalantly. "Don't worry your spiky little head about me, Doctor, let's just go check out that gorgeous New Earth scene. C'mon, slowpoke!"

He turned swiftly and stepped outside. He looked around confusedly. "Doctor?" he called back into the ship. "Are we in the right place?"

"Should be. Why? Oh..." said the Doctor, also coming outside. They were standing in a dingy, clamped alleyway. It was raining, and a nearby dumpster tainted the air with the stench of garbage.

Sam put his hood up, and Martha scrunched her shoulders in attempt to block the cold raindrops from the back of her neck. "Time lord version of 'dazzling'?" she asked.

"Ah, little rain never hurt anyone. Come on!" said the Doctor, leading the two of them forward.

They emerged in a slightly bigger sidestreet, equally grimy, with several bits of trash strewn about. Martha squealed as a large rat crawled past her foot. "Oh, that's nice," said Sam, wrinkling his nose as the rodent took refuge behind a wooden crate.

The Doctor walked over to a green plating with a screen in it. He scanned it with his sonic, and an image of a chipper blonde woman appeared, giving some kind of weather report. Then the image changed to the familiar sight of the futuristic city. "Oh, that's more like it!" proclaimed the Doctor. "That's the view we had last time. This must be the lower levels, down in the base of the tower. Some sort of under-city."

Martha eyed him dubiously. "You've brought me to the slums?"

"Much more interesting. It's all cocktails and glitter up there. This is the real city."

Martha shook her head. "You'd enjoy anything."

"That's him. That's absolutely hin," said Sam, laughing.

"Thank you," said the Doctor, grinning. "Ah, the rain's stopping! Better and better."

Suddenly, a cart to their left opened its hatch, and a vendor stuck his face out. "Oh!" he said, spotting them. "You should have said. How long you been there? Happy. You want Happy."

As he ducked down to fetch something, two more vendors across from him opened their windows. "Customers. Customers! We've got customers!" cried one.

"We're in business. Mother, open up the Mellow, and the Greed!" called the other into her shack.

"Happy, Happy, lovely happy Happy!" offered the first enthusiastically.

"Anger! Buy some Anger!" shouted the second.

"Get some Mellow, makes you feel all bendy and soft all day long-"

"Don't go to them, they'll rip you off! Do you want some Happy?"

"No, thanks," the Doctor said quickly.

"Are they selling drugs?" asked Martha, aghast.

"I think they're selling moods," said Sam, looking around at the stalls in mild fascination.

Martha snorted. "Same thing, isn't it?" Sam laughed, in spite of himself.

As more people began to join them in the streets, the vendors began advertising even more fervently. One woman, pale, swathed in black, with a shawl over her head, crept toward one of the vendors. "Come over here, yeah," said the cheerful seller as the gaunt woman approached. "And what can I get you, my love?"

"I want to buy Forget," said the woman flatly.

"I've got Forget, my darling. What strength? How much do you want forgetting?"

"It's my mother and father," said the woman, her tone bleak. "They went on the motorway."

The vendor clucked sympathetically. "Oh, that's a swine. Try this." The vendor handed her what looked like one of those lick-on tattoos you get when you're a kid. It was in the design of a green moon, reminding Sam of the hospital he and the Doctor had gone to the first time they came here. "Forget-43. That's two credits."

"Sorry, but hold on a minute," the Doctor interrupted as the woman paid for her mood. "What happened to your parents?"

"They drove off," said the woman, blinking at him with big, deadened eyes.

"Yeah, but they might drive back," said the Doctor.

"Everyone goes to the motorway in the end," said the mourning woman with conviction. "I've lost them."

"But they can't have gone far. You could find them. No. No, no, don't-" the Doctor said as the woman stuck the mood to her neck.

Immediately, the woman's persona livened up. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?" she asked the Doctor blankly.

"Your parents. Your mother and father. They're on the motorway," said Sam.

"Are they?" said the woman to him, slightly dazed. She smiled calmly. "That's nice. I'm sorry, I won't keep you." She nodded and walked away, oblivious to the world.

"So that's the human race, five billion years in the future," said Martha, her inner medic coming out. "Off their heads on chemicals."

"Yeah," said Sam. "It's a real shame-" His statement was cut off by an surprised bellow as a man with a gun suddenly grabbed him from behind. "Oi, gerroff me!" Sam shouted, trying to shake off his assailant.

"Sorry, I'm really, really sorry, we just need three, I'm sorry," said the man as a woman came up beside him, also armed. She pointed her gun at the Doctor and Martha.

"Let him go!" shouted the Doctor.

The man and woman continued to drag Sam away, Sam kicked and yelling, the Doctor shouting after them to let him go, the kidnappers continuing to apologize. Then they pulled Sam through a door, and the last thing he saw before it slammed shut was the Doctor's face, contorted with fright.

"Where are you taking me?" Sam demanded. But his captors did not answer, just kept pushing him through a dim hallways, cluttered with boxes and crates. Then they went through another door which lead to a similar area, only sunnier. There was a big black-and-silver vehicle parked there. "The Doctor's gonna find me, and then you'll be sorry! 'Cept for what I'm gonna do to ya first!" Sam threatened.

"Give him some Sleep," the man ordered the woman.

"Oh no! Don't you touch me with that stuff! Keep away!" Sam yelled as the woman pulled a patch out of her knapsack.

"It's just Sleep-14, don't fight it, baby, just sleep. That's it..."

Sam's eyes drooped as the patch made contact with his skin. He felt the urge to nod off spread through his system. His thought pattern was getting hazy, his eyelids felt heavier and heavier...with a large sigh, Sam fell unconscious.

Koschei opened his eyes...and smiled. He snuggled further into his lover's arms. "Morning," he mumbled.

"Morning," Theta said back, kissing the top of Koschei's head. "Sleep well?"

"Always do, next to you," Koschei yawned, kissing Theta back in return. "Love you."

"Love you too," said Theta sleepily, grinning at him. "And I always will."

Sam stirred and moved his head about. He was laying down on a cot or something, and could hear voices. He blinked his eyes open several times and looked around.

He was inside some kind of small carrier, a little ship or something. He found that he was laying on a foldout bed. He rubbed his neck, found the patch, and ripped it off. His brain immediately cleared up.

The two that had kidnapped him were sitting in pilot seats toward the bow of the shuttle, idly chatting. He looked to his right and spied the woman's gun sitting on a shelf next to him. He grabbed it and aimed it at the couple. The sudden noise made them both turn around.

"Take me back," ordered Sam. "Whoever you are, just take me back to my friends. Or I'll shoot."

The couple looked at each other.

"Please, don't make me do this. Just take me back to my people," Sam bartered.

"I'm sorry, but we can't," said the woman.

"I'll do it!" threatened Sam, brandishing the weapon.

"That's not a real gun," replied the woman.

Sam swallowed. "Yeah well, you would say that."

The woman laughed humorlessly. "Where do you get a real gun these days? I wouldn't even know how to fire!"

Sam bit his lip and put the gun down. He wouldn't have shot them. Not really. "Okay."

"Wh-what's your name?" asked the woman.

"Sam. Sam Tyler," said Sam, sitting up, feeling a bit woozy from the mood patch. The ceiling of the cabin was so low, his hair brushed up against the light fixtures. The Doctor wouldn't have even been able to stand up straight in here, he mused.

"Well, I'm Cheen, and this is Milo," said the woman, gesturing to her gentleman friend. "And I swear, we're really sorry. We just needed access to the fast lane. But I promise, as soon as we arrive, we'll drop you off and you can go back and find your friends."

Sam eyed them suspiciously. "Seriously?"

"I swear! Look." Cheen turned her head, pulled back her hair, and showed off the green moon on her neck. "Honesty patch."

"All the same...you kidnapped me!" Sam said. He sighed and looked out the front windshield. "Where are we, anyway?"

"We're on the motorway," said Milo.

The motorway? That's where that girl said her parents went. "What's that, then?" Sam asked, referring to the brownish-grey clouds outside. "Fog?"

Cheen laughed that unfunny laugh again. "That's the exhaust fumes."

"We're going out to Brooklyn," said Milo. "Everyone says the air's so much cleaner, and we couldn't stay in Pharmacy Town, because..." He smiled at Cheen and grasped her hand.

"Well, because of me. I'm pregnant," Cheen grinned. "We only discovered it last week. Scan says it's going to be a boy."

"Right. What do I do now, congratulate my kidnappers?" said Sam, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

"We're really sorry," said Cheen. "But you see, if we're to get out of here on the fast lane, we have to have three adult passengers." She gestured to Sam. "Welcome aboard."

Sam growled and dragged his hands through his scruffy hair frustratedly.

"Look, this'll be as fast as we can," said Milo apologetically. "We'll take the motorway to the Brooklyn flyover, and then after that it's going to take awhile, because then there's no fast lane, just ordinary roads, but at least it's direct."

"It's only ten miles," added Cheen.

"How long is it going to take?" Sam asked.

"About...six years," said Cheen.

"What?!" spat Sam.

"Be just in time for him to start school," nodded Cheen, patting her stomach.

"No, sorry, hold on," said Sam. "Six years? Ten miles in six years? How come?"

"Well, it's the traffic. Moves so seldomly that you barely get anywhere in a long period of time," explained Milo. He looked at Sam inquisitively. "You must be from up above. How did you not know?"

"Though you wouldn't know he was from the upper city, dressed like that," added Cheen, nodding to the hoodie. "No offense."

Sam rolled his eyes and pulled off his hoodie. He wasn't dressed that much better than his captors: a flannel button up over his old Driveshaft t-shirt, Nike trainers, and blue jeans. Then again, his clothes looked newer and were in better condition than the raggedy threads Cheen and Milo were wearing. Sam took off his flannel and laid it with the hoodie, feeling warm in the small cabin.

"Oh, Driveshaft!" said Milo, reading his t-shirt. "That sounds familiar."

"Oh, I think they wrote that one song. You know, the really old one from the 1990's?" Cheen began singing. "You all everybody...you all everybody."

Milo joined in. "Actin' like them stupid people, wearin' expensive clothes. That shirt must be ancient. Where'd you get it?"

"Er...bootlegger," Sam lied. In spite of himself, he was smiling at hearing his old band's only popular song. He remembered the Doctor, way back when he'd barely known him, when he was still Northern with big ears, telling him that that song would live on for centuries. Guess he wasn't kidding.

Thinking of the Doctor made him sad. There had to be a way for the Doctor to find him. If he knew that man, he figured the Doctor wouldn't rest till he'd found him.

Sam walked over to a window on the side and put a hand up to the tarnished glass. He squinted through the exhaust and made out little pinpoints of light-headlights, he imagined. Could the Doctor be in one of them right now, looking for him?

"Please," Sam whispered. "Please come and find me."

Finally, after the Doctor had beaten the Macra, Sam and all the motorists were able to escape into the great city above. "Been awhile since I've seen you, Sam Tyler," said the Doctor as Sam came running into the Senate. They went for a hug, then remembered their conversation from before when they'd stayed with Shakespeare. Sam sheepishly put out his hand, and the Doctor shook it, smiling stiffly.

"Hi, Sam," said Martha. "Good to see you."

"Thanks for keeping him safe," chuckled Sam.

"Doctor!" called a voice from the other side of the room.

Sam looked around his companions and spotted a cat-human, one of the Sisters of Plentitude from the New New York Hospital, kneeling in front of a large brown mass. "Novice Hame?" Sam said with surprise. He'd thought he'd seen her get arrested with the rest of the Sisters.

The cat nodded. "Mister Tyler. He has been waiting for you. Both of you."

As the Doctor joined him, Sam turned his head to the great mass. It was a giant face, with lines and cracks in its skin, long tendrils extending from its side and large, sad yellow eyes.

"The Face of Boe?" said Sam in wonderment. The Doctor nodded. "What's he doing here?" Sam asked.

"He's the one that saved you. Not me."

"But..." Sam knelt down beside Novice Hame. "He's...out. Of his glass, I mean. Isn't that...I mean...won't he..." Sam couldn't bear to say it.

"My lord gave his life to save the city," said Hame, wiping a tear away with her paw. "And now, he is dying."

"No, don't say that," said the Doctor. "Not old Boe. Plenty of life left."

It's good to breathe the air once more. Sam heard the Face's words in his head.

The Doctor looked at the great face. "Legend says the Face of Boe has lived for billions of years. Isn't that right? And you're not about to give up now."

Everything has its time. You know that, old friend, better than most.

"The legend says more," said Hame.

"Don't. There's no need for that," said the Doctor.

"It says that the Face of Boe will speak his final secret to a traveler," insisted Hame, looking at the Doctor meaningfully.

"Yeah, but not yet. Who needs secrets, eh?" said the Doctor.

I have seen so much...perhaps too much. I am the last of my kind, as you are the last of yours, Doctor.

"That's why we have to survive," said the Doctor. "Both of us. Don't go."

I must. But know this, Time Lord...

Sam breathed in shakily.

You...are not...alone.

The Doctor's eyebrows lifted. He stared intently at the Face of Boe.

Sam retreated backward, away from the Face, as if pushed by his words. His stomach was churning. His blood felt weak, his nerves alive and quivering. His heart was beating fast, and in his mind was the drums, the never-ending drum beat, so loud it hurt. ONE TWO THREE FOUR. ONE TWO THREE FOUR. ONE TWO THREE FOUR.

The Face of Boe breathed raggedly in and out several more times. Then his eyes closed, and he spoke no more.

They made their way back to Pharmacy Town, where they'd left their TARDIS. Sam had remained silent since the Face of Boe's message. The Doctor, Martha, and Sam looked around at all the boarded up vendor stations, bustling with business only a few hours ago. "All closed down," said the Doctor.

"Happy?" Martha asked.

"Happy happy," the Doctor replied. "New New York can start again. And they've got Novice Hame. Just what every city needs. Cats in charge. Come on, time we were off."

"But what did he mean, the Face of Boe?" Martha asked, stopping the Doctor. "'You're not alone.'"

"I don't know," said the Doctor, shaking his head.

"You've got me. And Sam," said Martha, gesturing to their silent partner. "Is that what he meant?"

The Doctor smiled sadly. "I don't think so. Sorry."

"Then what?" Martha asked.

"Doesn't matter," said the Doctor shortly, turning his back and walking away. "Back to the TARDIS, off we go."

Sam wordlessly followed him, but Martha grabbed a folding chair from in front of a stand and sat down, arms and legs crossed.

The Doctor looked at her quizzically. "Alright, are you staying?"

"Til you talk to me properly, yes," said Martha sternly. "He said 'last of your kind'. What does that mean?"

"It really doesn't matter," said the Doctor dismissively.

Sam stared at him. He knew the truth.

"You don't talk, you never say! Why not?" Martha demanded.

The Doctor and Martha had a long stare off, with Sam looking back and forth between them. Finally, the Doctor sighed, grabbed another chair and sat across from her.

"I lied to you," the Doctor began. "Because I liked it. I could pretend. Just for a bit, I could imagine they were still alive, underneath a burnt orange sky. I'm not just a Time Lord. I'm the last of the Time Lords. The Face of Boe was wrong. There's no one else."

"What happened?" Martha asked.

The Doctor sighed again, old and tired. Sam walked around behind Martha and listened to the Doctor.

"There was a war. A Time War. The last Great Time War. My people fought a race called the Daleks, for the sake of all creation. And they lost. They lost, everyone lost. They're all gone now. My family, my friends, even that sky. Oh, you should have seen it, that old planet. The second sun would rise in the south, and the mountains would shine. The leaves on the trees were silver, and when they caught the light every morning, it looked like a forest on fire. When the autumn came, the breeze would blow through the branches like a song..."

As the Doctor spoke, Sam let himself be carried away by his words, which evoked imagery in his mind's eye. Watching the double suns rise and set, lying in the red grass, staring into the distance at the snow capped Mount Perdition. Of two young men, one small and dark-haired, the other gangly with blonde curls, holding each other and watching the stars of the great constellation of Kasterborous rotate overhead, dreaming of what the universe held beyond them.

Sam didn't even notice that the Doctor had finished the story, until he realized he and Martha were staring at him, concerned. "Sam?" the Doctor said softly.

"What?" Sam said, in a daze.

"You're crying."

"I am?" Sam reached up and swiped the sleeve of his hoodie across his cheek. He hadn't even felt himself doing it. "Sorry," he gasped, sniffing.

The Doctor stood up, gently touched his elbow, and said, "Let's go home."

Sam nodded. He knew the Doctor meant the TARDIS, but all of a sudden, for some reason, he felt like saying, home is gone.

Chapter 48: Time Lord Rising, Volume 8

Notes:

Chapter based on "Daleks In Manhattan" and "Evolution Of The Daleks" by Helen Raynor, original air dates: April 21 and 28, 2007.

Chapter Text

When the hell was this insufferable Martha Jones going to leave? That's what Sam was wondering to himself. It wasn't like he was jealous of the attention the Doctor was giving her or anything. He just didn't like her was all. She was...well, she...she was...okay, the truth was, the young medical student was perfectly nice, and bright. It's just that she was...well, she was pretty and vivacious. And had a thing for the Doctor. But that wasn't jealousy...right?

Sam nervously bit one of his fingernails.

The TARDIS wheezed and thumped as it landed at its next destination. The Doctor and Martha, laughing giddily, clambered out of the ship, Sam trudging after them. He hoped this wasn't getting to be a habit.

"Where are we?" Martha asked, looking around. They had appeared on some sort of sea front. Sam estimated it was an island, for he spied a greater urban coast across the water. Under their feet was well manicured grass, and seagulls were crying overhead.

"Ah, smell that Atlantic breeze!" The Doctor exclaimed excitedly. "Nice and cold, lovely."

"Doctor, come on," laughed Sam, glad to have his hoodie to guard him against the biting breeze. "Tell us, where are we?"

The Doctor grinned at him. "Sam, Martha...have you met my friend?" He turned and looked up.

Sam then realized that even though it was a sunny day, they were in shadow. Behind them and the TARDIS, there was a stone wall, leading up to a higher level, then perched on that was a stone platform. And perched on that...

"No way," gasped Sam.

"Is that-?" choked Martha.

A mint green, gargantuan stature of a lady in a toga, wearing a crown on her head, clutching a book and raising a torch to the sky, towered over them. "Oh my God! That's the Statue of Liberty!" Martha exclaimed.

"I did promise you a trip to New York, as I recall. Not New New York, the proper one, the original. Remember, Sam?" said the Doctor.

Sam bumped gently against his arm, smiling. "You remembered that?"

"Course," said the Doctor. He looked up at the grand Lady. "Gateway to the New World. 'Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, yearning to breathe free'."

"That's so brilliant," sighed Martha. "I've wanted to go to New York. I mean, the real one, not the new new new-new-new one."

"Well, there's the genuine article," said the Doctor, pointing out to the city on the mainland. "So good, they named it twice. Mind you, it was New Amsterdam originally. Harder to say twice. Now wonder it didn't catch on. New Amsterdam, New Amsterdam."

"Look, the Empire State Building's not even finished yet," said Martha, pointing. "We must be in the past."

"Work in progress," the Doctor commented. "Still got a couple floors to go."

"Hmm," said Sam. "I wonder what year it is."

"Well, if I know my history, the construction on the Empire State makes the date somewhere around-"

"November 1st, 1930," Martha finished for the Doctor, consulting a newspaper abandoned on a park bench.

The Doctor grinned at her. "You're getting good at this."

I'm not jealous, Sam thought bitterly.

"Eighty years ago," said Martha in amazement. "It's funny, because you see all those old newsreels all in black and white like it's so far away, but here we are. It's real. It's now." She looked at the Doctor and Sam. "Come on then, you two. Where do you want to go first?"

The Doctor was reading a headline intently.

"Doctor?" said Sam. "What is it?"

The Doctor looked up at him. Then he showed the paper to his companions. "I think our detour just got longer."

The banner read "HOOVERVILLE MYSTERY DEEPENS".

The trio traveled to a slum in the middle of Central Park, where they met a boy named Frank, and a very wise African-American man named Solomon. A man named "Mr. Diagoras" came to the Hooverville, vying for employees, offering a dollar for going down in the sewer to clean up a collapsed tunnel. The five of them volunteered. The Doctor was curious.

After wandering a mile, there was no sign of a collapse. But along the way, they found a phosphorescent, viscous green blob of something. It definitely wasn't terrestrial.

Suddenly, the whole group heard a sharp squealing. Cowering in a corner, they found a mutated creature, seemingly half man, half pig. Then they were joined by a whole gang of the pigmen, who instigated pursuit. The Doctor, Sam, Martha, and Solomon made it out. But poor Frank was dragged down, never to be seen again.

And suddenly, they were face to face with a blonde woman with a pistol. "Now tell me, you schmucks," she said with a harsh Jersey accent, cocking the gun at them menacingly. "What have you done with Laszlo?"

Tallulah, the woman's name was, turned out to be a performer. "Laszlo" was her boyfriend, gone missing some time ago. The disappearances from Hooverville, the green blob, the pigmen, the mysterious Mister Diagoras, and now this. Things were getting weirder by the minute, in Sam's opinion.

Sam watched as the Doctor analyzed the blob thing with his homemade gizmo. "Fundamental DNA type four six seven dash nine eight nine," the Doctor mumbled to himself. "Nine eight nine. Hold on, that means planet of origin..." The Doctor's brown eyes widened behind his spectacles, which he took off in horror. "Skaro," he gasped.

Skaro. The name faintly registered with Sam.

It was on the planet Skaro that I, the Master, was put on trial. I listened calmly as my list of evil was read and sentence passed. Then I made my last, and to some, somewhat curious, request. I demanded that my arch rival, the Doctor, the Time Lord that had known me longest in history apart from my own relations, should take my remains back to our home planet, Gallifrey.

"The planet of the Daleks?" Sam asked.

The Doctor looked at him in surprise. "Yes. How did you know that?"

"Uh...Canary Wharf. The Daleks that came out of the Void Ship. One of them said he was from the Cult of Skaro. I drew my own conclusions," said Sam. "So I'm right? This is the Daleks?"

The Doctor rubbed his temples. "It just can't be. The legion we saw on Satellite Five were all wiped out by you, and the ones at Canary Wharf were all sucked back into the Void."

But when the two of them and Tallulah saw one of them back down in the sewers, they knew it was true. "They survived," the Doctor said through gritted teeth. He stared after the pepper pot with hatred. "They always survive while I lose everything."

Sam tentatively put his hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Doctor."

The Doctor reached up and covered Sam's hand with his own, saying nothing.

In the sewers, the Doctor, Sam, and Tallulah encountered another pigman, but he was different than the others. He'd been physically transformed like the others, but his higher brain functions were still working. It turned out to be Tallulah's lover, Laszlo.

Laszlo told them of the Daleks' plot. They'd been the ones who'd been taking people. The ones of low intelligence, like Laz, were converted into pig slaves. The ones of high intelligence, like Martha, who'd at some point been captured due to chasing Laz, were to be saved, for the "final experiment".

The Doctor and Sam snuck in line with Martha, Frank (who was amazingly still alive), and the rest of the high intelligence captives, and were led to a laboratory. In the middle of the room, there was a black Dalek, surrounded by average bronze ones. The black one was steaming and shaking. "DALEK SEC IS IN THE FINAL STAGE OF EVOLUTION!" announced one of the Daleks.

"SCAN HIM. PREPARE FOR BIRTH."

"Evolution?" the Doctor muttered.

"Birth?" Sam added, equally confused.

"What's wrong with old Charlie boy over there?" Martha asked, staring at the Black Dalek.

"Ask them," the Doctor ordered.

"What, me?" Martha squeaked. "Don't be daft."

"Sam and I don't exactly want to get noticed," the Doctor reasoned. "They know us. Ask them what's going on."

Gulping, Martha stepped forward. "Daleks!" she exclaimed loudly. "I demand to be told. What is this...Final Experiment? Report!"

One of the gold Daleks rolled up to her. "YOU WILL BEAR WITNESS," it told her.

"To what?" Martha asked.

"THIS IS THE DAWN OF A NEW AGE."

"What does that mean?" Martha questioned. Sam had to admit, even though the young medical student was shaking, she was standing her ground quite well.

"WE ARE THE ONLY FOUR DALEKS IN EXISTENCE. SO THE SPECIES MUST EVOLVE A LIFE OUTSIDE THE SHELL. THE CHILDREN OF SKARO MUST WALK AGAIN."

"Daleks don't walk," Sam murmured. "What do they mean?"

The Doctor stared at Sec worryingly. "I think we're about to find out."

Sec's shell stopped smoking. The blue light of its eye stalk went dark. Its casing opened.

All the humans gasped.

A curled up humanoid came crawling out of the shell, slowly straightening. It was wearing a black pinstripe suit, just like Mr. Diagoras. But its skin...its skull...its hands...

Its skin was brownish-pinkish, with pronounced wrinkles and veins. The head had been mutated into a brain, bursting from the skin. Dalek tentacles extended twitching from the thing's jawline. There was one, singular embedded eye.

"What is it?" Martha whispered, aghast.

The creature stood erect, looking around the room. "I...am...a human Dalek. I...am your future."

Sam, Martha, and Frank stared at the new creation in horror. The Doctor ducked out of sight and took shelter behind some extraneous apparatuses on the side. "These...humans," gasped the new Sec, still settling into its own skin, "will become like me. Prepare them for hybridization!" he ordered his Dalek underlings.

A few slaves stepped forward and grabbed Sam and Martha by their arms. "Leave me alone! Don't you dare!" Martha squealed.

"Get your filthy...hooves off of me!" Sam shouted.

Suddenly, "Happy Days Are Here Again" started playing in the room. The Daleks wheeled around confusedly. "What is that sound?!" Sec demanded.

The Doctor poked his spiky head out from behind a machine, carrying a small transistor radio. He switched it off. "Ah, well, now, that would be me," the Doctor said, coming out from hiding. "Hello. Surprise! Boo. Et cetera."

"Doctor," hissed Sec scathingly.

"THE ENEMY OF THE DALEKS!" proclaimed a bronze pepper pot.

"EXTERMINATE!" cried another.

"Wait!" exclaimed Sec, holding up his new deformed hands.

The Daleks stilled, waiting for orders.

"Well, then, a new form of Dalek, fascinating. And very clever," chided the Doctor, striding forward to get a better look at Sec.

"The Cult of Skaro escaped your slaughter," Sec spat at the Time Lord.

"How did you end up in 1930?" asked Sam, pushing forward.

The mutant looked at him. "This human of yours does not adhere to the standard of your typical companion. This one is brazen."

"That's me," said Sam. "Sam 'Bloody Brazen' Tyler, the Big Bad Wolf. And I asked you a question. How did you get here?"

"Emergency temporal shift," answered Sec.

The Doctor laughed. "That must've roasted up your power cells, yeah?" He scratched his ear and strode around in a circle, looking each pepper pot in the eyestalk. "Time was...four Daleks could have conquered the world. But instead you're skulking away...hidden in the dark...experimenting. All of which results..." The Time Lord looked back at Sec. "In you."

"I am Dalek, in human form!" proclaimed Sec.

"And what does that feel like?" asked Sam, crossing his arms. "Tell me, Dalek Sec. Because I once met a Dalek like you. A Dalek that absorbed a human's DNA. Tell me what you're thinking right now."

"I feel...humanity," gasped Sec, turning away, gripping its old casing for support.

"Good. That's good," said the Doctor.

"I...feel...everything we wanted from mankind," the human Dalek continued. "Which is...ambition...hatred...aggression...and war. Such a genius for war!"

"No, that's not what humanity is," said Sam.

"I think it is," disagreed Sec, newly inspired. "At heart, this species is so very...Dalek."

"All right, so what have you achieved then, with this Final Experiment, eh?" said the Doctor, no longer calm. "Nothing! Because I can show you what you're missing...with this thing." He patted his little music box fondly. "A simple little radio."

"WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF THAT DEVICE?" blared one of the bronze Dalek underlings.

"Well, exactly, it plays music, what's the point of that?" the Doctor asked, in teaching mode. "Oh, with music...you can dance to it, sing with it...fall in love to it."

Sam remembered dancing with the Doctor to Glenn Miller during the London Blitz. He remembered tripping and falling into the Doctor's arms, feeling his heart in his throat and his stomach do a somersault. He hoped he wasn't blushing.

"Unless you're a Dalek of course," the Doctor continued. "Then it's all just noise."

The Doctor aimed his sonic at the radio, which suddenly emitted a ear-splittingly high frequency. Sec and the pigmen covered their ears instinctively; the Daleks just screamed.

"Run!" the Doctor cried.

The Doctor, Sam, Martha, Frank, and the rest of the hostages managed to make it out of the sewers and back into the Hooverville in the park. They found Soloman and told him the whole story. The Doctor urged Soloman to get everyone away from the Hooverville when there was an attack. The pigmen showed up and started snatching people left and right. The vagrants equipped themselves with guns, but they seemed to be doing no good.

"If we can just hold them off till morning!" Sam shouted, aiming at one and missing.

They all heard a loud cycling sound. "Oh, Sam, those are just the foot soldiers," said the Doctor, looking up at the sky.

Daleks had appeared. They began shooting at the camp and blowing up tents. The people were screaming. "THE HUMANS WILL SURRENDER!" ordered one Dalek.

"Leave them alone, they've done nothing to you!" the Doctor yelled.

Suddenly, Soloman stepped forward, nervously clenching his gun. "No, Soloman, stay back!" the Doctor said.

"I'm told that I'm addressing the Daleks, is that right? From what I hear, you're outcasts too," the wise man said.

"Soloman, don't," the Doctor urged.

"Doctor, this is my township, you will respect my authority!" Soloman commanded. Then he added in a more intimate tone, "Just let me try." Then he turned back to the Daleks hovering overhead. "Daleks...ain't we the same? Underneath, ain't we all kin?" He set his weapon on the ground as a show of good faith. "Because, you see, I've just discovered, this past day...that God's universe is a thousand times the size I thought it was! And that scares me. Oh yeah! Terrifies me! Right down to the bone! But surely, it's got to give me hope. Hope that...maybe together...we can make a better tomorrow. So, I beg you, now...if you have any compassion in your hearts...then you'll meet with us, and stop this fight!"

The Daleks looked at each other. Soloman licked his lips nervously. "Well?" he asked. "What do you say?"

"Oh, Sol," sighed Sam. "You're brilliant. You were doing so well. Until you got to 'hearts'."

Soloman looked at him. "What's wrong with that?"

"DALEKS HAVE NO HEARTS. EXTERMINATE!" And then, they killed him.

Soloman fell to the ground. "Soloman!" exclaimed Frank, rushing to his body, tears streaming from his eyes.

"They just shot him on the spot!" Martha said, trembling.

"That's Daleks for you," said Sam, quietly angry, going against his natural instinct and putting his arms around her shoulders comfortingly as she cried in fear.

"Daleks," the Doctor whispered under his breath in rage. "Alright, so it's my turn!" he screamed at the monsters, holding out his arms, welcoming their shots. "Then kill me! Kill me if it'll stop you attacking these people!"

"Doctor, stop it!" Sam shouted.

"I WILL BE THE DESTROYER OF OUR GREATEST ENEMY!" the head Dalek exclaimed.

"Then do it! Do it! Just do it! Do it!" the Doctor yelled, pounding on his chest.

"EXTERMINA-"

But something stopped it. "I DO NOT UNDERSTAND," protested the Dalek to some outside party. "IT IS THE DOCTOR...THE URGE TO KILL...IS TOO STRONG!...I...OBEY."

The Daleks seemed to be surrendering. "What's going on?" the Doctor demanded.

"YOU WILL FOLLOW," ordered the Dalek.

"No!" Martha burst away from Sam and rushed to the Doctor's side. Sam followed. "You can't go," she said tearfully.

"She's right. They want you for something and you can't let them take it!" Sam said, grabbing the Doctor's shoulders, trying to make the Time Lord see sense.

"I've got to go," said the Doctor, staring into his eyes. "The Daleks just changed their minds. Daleks never change their minds."

"And neither am I. I am not letting you walk straight into danger. They'll kill you, Doctor, and I can't let them do that!" exclaimed Sam, hoping his voice wasn't breaking as much as he thought it was.

The Doctor looked at him sadly, then did something unexpected. He leaned forward and softly kissed Sam's cheek.

Sam was frozen, at a loss for words. The Doctor gently removed Sam's hands from his shoulders. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Then he turned to the Dalek. "One condition!" he roared. "You spare the lives of everyone here! Do you hear me?!"

"HUMANS WILL BE SPARED," said the Dalek. "DOCTOR-FOLLOW."

"I'm coming with you," said Sam, grabbing the Time Lord's hand.

"NO ONE ELSE. NO ONE BUT THE DOCTOR."

"I'm not letting him out of my sight, don't you understand?" shouted Sam angrily.

"Sam, please," breathed the Doctor. "Stay here. Look out for Martha and the others. Please. For me."

Sam stared him down. Then, biting his lip, he nodded, grudgingly.

"Thank you," said the Doctor. "I promise you, Sam Tyler: I will find my way back to you."

"DOCTOR. FOLLOW!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" the Doctor snapped, turning away and heading down the hill after the Daleks. Sam stayed rooted in place, watching the billowy tails of his coat blow in the night air as he walked away. Then he pulled something out of his pocket, when the Doctor had slipped something into it, right as he'd kissed him on the cheek.

It was his psychic paper.

"Just a scratch," said Martha, patching up one of the Hooverville citizens' wrist. "You'll be fine. Try to keep it clean."

"I got some more water boiling," said Tallulah, coming into the tent as the patient was going out.

Sam was staring at the psychic paper pensively. "What's that?" the showgirl asked.

"One of the Doctor's tricks. Get you into places and things," Sam replied. "He gave it to me. I don't know why."

"Well...to get you into somewhere, right?" Tallulah guessed.

"Yeah, but where?" Sam sighed. "This is hopeless. Bloody Time Lords and their bloody riddles."

"Hey, wait," said Martha suddenly. "Down in the sewers, I heard the Daleks mention this energy converter."

"What does that mean?" Tallulah asked.

"I don't know," said Martha, crestfallen. "Maybe like a lightning conductor, or...Dalekanium!"

"Dalekanium?!" Sam repeated dubiously.

"They said the Dalekanium is in place!" Martha said excitedly.

"Where, Martha?" said Sam, standing up. "Where's the Dalekanium in place?"

"Frank might know," Martha replied, brainstorming.

"Well then why are we sitting around here? Let's go!" Sam exclaimed. The three of them rushed out of the tent to find Frank. "We've got a city to save!"

"I've always wanted to go to the Empire State Building," said Martha on the elevator, after Frank had clued them in to the grand tower. "Never quite imagined it like this though."

"How'd we get in, anyway?" Tallulah asked.

"Show'd them this," said Sam, handing her the Doctor's wallet.

Tallulah looked at the psychic paper. "Hmm. 'Frank O'Malley, Architect. Martha Jones, Supervisor. Tallulah Rogers, Engineer-ooh, lookit that, I'm an engineer!-and Sam Tyler, Head Janitor'."

"Oh, what?! Why am I the janitor?!" Sam looked at the paper, but as usual, it was blank to him. "Bollocks," he grumbled under his breath.

"So where are we going?" Frank asked.

"Top floor," said Sam, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. "That's where they're still building. That's where the Dalekanium will be. If the whole tower's a conductor, the Dalekanium will be mounted to the antenna on the roof, I'll just bet."

When they arrived on the top story, Tallulah said, as they emerged from the elevator, "Look at this place!" She crossed to the window and stared at the wide view. "Top of the world."

"Just about," said Sam, joining her. He too, looked out over the city. "Wish we could've done a bit more sightseeing and a little less world saving. This place is brilliant."

"Sam," called Martha. "Over here. Blueprints."

"Hey, look at the date," Frank pointed out, as Sam came over to investigate. "These designs were issued today. They must've been changed last minute."

"So the Daleks changed something," said Sam.

"Could be," nodded Frank.

Martha flipped the next page, the next most recent designs. "The change'll be on the top sheet. So we need to compare these two pages."

"New York City," sighed Tallulah dreamily. "If aliens had to come to Earth...oh, no wonder they came here."

They poured over the designs. "Gotcha!" Martha exclaimed. "Look. There, on the mast. Those little lines? They're new. They've added something, see?"

"Added what?" Frank asked.

Sam and Martha looked at each and grinned. "Dalekanium!"

Suddenly, the elevator dinged. "Uh oh," said Sam. "Company. Martha, Tallulah, hide. Frank and I'll hold 'em off."

The door slid open...it was the Doctor and Lazslo! "Oh thank God!" Sam rushed at the skinny Time Lord and hugged him tightly.

"I never thought I'd see you again," Tallulah cried happily as she jumped into the arms of the pigman.

"No stopping me," Lazslo laughed weakly.

"Are you alright?" Sam was asking the Doctor.

"All the better now." The Doctor smiled down at him. It was a smile that made Sam's heart beat very hard.

"Doctor!" Martha ran to them and eagerly hugged him. "We've worked it out! Me and Sam, and Frank and Tallulah too. We know what they've done. There's Dalekanium on the mast! And it's good to see you, by the way."

"Oh, come here, you clever ones." The Doctor went to hug his companions again, but then there was another ding from the elevator. "Oh no no no no no!" The Doctor ran over to the lift control and tried to sonic it. "Never waste time with a hug!-Argh! Deadlock seal! I can't stop it."

"Where's it going, Doctor?" Sam asked.

"Right down to the Daleks," answered the Doctor. "And they're not going to leave us alone up here. What's the time?"

Frank checked his watch. "Eleven fifteen."

"Six minutes to go," muttered the Doctor. "We've got to remove the Dalekanium before the gamma radiation hits."

"Gamma radiation? What the heck is that?" Tallulah asked.

So then the Doctor told them about the Daleks' plot. The pepper pots had captured a bunch of humans and basically sucked the souls out of them. Dalek Sec wanted to convert them into human Daleks, but his underlings had rebelled against him, and now the people were going to be full on Daleks. There was a solar flare coming, and the needle on the top of the Empire State was going to act as a conductor of energy into the bodies. The Dalekanium would help the conversion along.

The Doctor was going to climb up to the top and remove the Dalekanium. "You never quit, do you?" Sam said. "Do you want to get yourself killed?!"

"Sam, the last thing I'm afraid of is heights. Although, I did once regenerate from falling off of a radio tower-"

Sam's stomach did a flip flop. That had been one of his visions!

"-but never mind that. Sam, I need you and Martha down here on the ground, working together. And I'm sorry, but you're going to have to fight."

Sam looked around at his compatriots: a wet-behind-the-ears medical student, a showgirl in a skimpy angel costume and robe, an Oklahoma farmboy, and a mutant pig man. He sighed. "Well...Avengers, assemble."

The Doctor climbed to the roof to dispose of the Dalekanium. Meanwhile, Sam, Martha, Frank Tallulah, and Lazslo armed themselves with random tools the workmen had left lying around.

Frank looked discerningly at the wooden sledgehammer in his hands. "I knew I should've brought that gun with me."

"The lift's coming!" Martha exclaimed.

"Tallulah, stay back. You too, Martha," said Lazslo, trying to shield the womenfolk with his arms. "If they send pig slaves, they're trained to kill."

"The Doctor needs me to fight, I'm not going anywhere!" Martha exclaimed.

"They're savages," said Laz. "I should know. They're trained to slit your throat with their bare teeth." Suddenly, he slumped over weakly, dropping his hammer.

"Laszlo?" squeaked Tallulah, worryingly, crouched down next to him. "What is it?"

"No, it's nothing," panted Laszlo, leaning against a post for support. "I'm fine. Just leave me."

Tallulah put her hand to his forehead. "Oh, honey, you're burning up. What's wrong with you? Tell me."

"Great. One man down, we ain't even started yet," groaned Frank pessimistically.

"It's not looking good, fellas," said Martha uneasily, hers, Frank's, and Sam's eyes glued to the elevator counter.

"Nope," agreed Frank.

"We're going to get slaughtered!"

"Oi! Can we save the negativity until after we've attacked a legion of mutants?!" Sam shouted at them.

"Sorry," said Martha meekly.

Suddenly, thunder crashed outside. Sam's head whipped around to look at the open window, at the wicked storm brewing outside. "Wait a minute! That's it!"

"What's it?" Martha asked. She looked out the window too. "Oh!"

"What?!" Frank exclaimed.

"Lightning!" the time travelers said together, inspired.

"So?"

"So..." Sam ran over and grabbed a coil of wire. "There's a hell of a storm out there. This building's gonna get struck with a bolt no matter if there's Dalekanium clipped to it or not. It's what it was designed for."

"But what if," Martha added, "we rerouted the energy to the elevator?"

"Well, then...the pig slaves would be electrocuted!" Frank said, getting it. "Oh!"

"Exactly!" Sam grinned at Martha. "I like the way you think, Jones."

"Likewise, Tyler," Martha replied. "Now...let's do this!"

Martha, Sam, and Frank set up metal pipes leading to the outside, where they would attract the lightning and conduct it to the elevator. "Okay! Everybody get away from the pipes, and don't touch anything metal!" Sam yelled, running across the room and crouching on the floor.

Come on, Doctor, Sam added mentally, looking up at the ceiling.

Ding.

At the exact moment the lift doors opened, white hot jagged hairlines of pure electricity trailed down the pipes, instantly killing the pigmen ambling out of the elevator. The gang closed their eyes, cover their head, and crouched down.

A minute or so later, Sam looked up. "Guys. Look."

Four or five pigmen were all lying in the elevator, dead.

Frank laughed. "Y'all did it!"

"We killed them," said Martha, shocked.

"Well what did you think was going to happen?" Sam asked her gently, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"They used to be like Laszlo. They were people."

Sam shook his head. "Believe me, Martha-they were dead long before the lightning came."

"You didn't kill them, Martha," said Laszlo, struggling to his feet. "The Daleks did. Long ago."

"You alright?" Sam asked him.

Laszlo shrugged wordlessly.

Sam looked up at the ceiling. "The Doctor...he never came down."

Martha touched his hand. Sam looked at her in surprise. "I'm sure he's alright," said the young woman.

Sam tried to smile. "Heh. Yeah. Believe me, he's been through worse...still." Sam looked upward again. "I'm gonna go up there."

"Me too," said Martha, following him to the ladder up to the roof.

"No, Martha, stay. It's still stormy, it's too dangerous. Look, Laz is weak. Stay here. Take care of him. Be a doctor." Sam smiled at her a little.

Martha nodded and walked back to the group. Sam was about to climb up, when suddenly he stepped on something. He looked under his foot.

It was the Doctor's screwdriver. "Oh no," Sam gasped, snatching it up and hoisting himself up the wooden rungs.

The Doctor was lying on the ground near the antenna. His eyes were closed and he was very still.

"Doctor!" Sam ran to him, getting on the ground beside him. He laid his head on the Time Lord's chest. His hearts were still beating. Oh, thank God. "Doctor, please, wake up." Sam gently shook his shoulder. "Please, Doctor, please!"

The Doctor stirred sluggishly. "Oh, my head," he groaned, blinking open his big brown eyes. He looked up at his companion. "Sam! My old friend!"

"Idiot," said Sam, smacking the Doctor in the chest. "Look, I found your sonic screwdriver! And here's your psychic paper. Oh, buck up, mate, come on, I know you've been through worse than this."

"Are we alive?" the Doctor asked.

Sam laughed. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"Cause there's heaven in your eyes." The Doctor laughed weakly.

"Eh-heh. Yeah," said Sam, backing away. He could feel his cheeks heating up. "I think that lightning struck your brain."

"Yeah?" the Doctor asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"Well..." Sam pretended to examine him. "Your hair does look spikier than usual."

"Oh, he's Mister Funny, now, isn't he? So funny." The Doctor rolled his eyes.

"Excuse me, Skinnybones, I'm terribly amusing," said Sam. He was leaning directly over the Doctor.

The Doctor snorted. "So you say." They laughed together momentarily. Then they looked into each other's eyes. The breeze was whipping Sam's shaggy hair around, and the storm clouds were parting to reveal the captivating night sky above them.

"I am glad you're alright, Sam Tyler," said the Doctor.

Sam swallowed nervously. "Need some help up."

The Doctor shook his head painstakingly. "Gimme a sec."

Sam nodded. He looked over at the antenna...and his heart sank. "Oh no...the Dalekanium...it's still on there!"

"I know," groaned the Doctor. "I tried to get it off but I dropped my screwdriver."

"So...the Dalek humans...are alive?" said Sam, his heart rate picking up for a completely different reason now.

The Doctor sat up. "Come on."

They hurried back downstairs and joined the others. The Doctor and Sam told Martha, Frank, Tallulah, and Lazslo about the lightning strike. "So what do we do?" Martha said.

"There's only one chance," said the Doctor. "I got in the way. The gamma strike went zapping through me first."

"So wait..." said Sam. "So there's not just Dalek in those corpses. There's also a little bit of you." He grinned. "You know occasionally, Doctor, you're incredibly clever."

The Doctor gave him a devilish grin, then continued. "We need to draw fire. Before they can attack New York, I need to face them. Where can I draw them out? Think, think, think, think, think. We need some sort of space. Somewhere safe. Somewhere out of the way...Tallulah!" he suddenly exclaimed.

"That's me. Three Ls and an H," said the dancer.

"The theatre! It's right above them, and, what, it's gone at midnight? Can you get us inside?" the Doctor asked.

Tallulah shrugged. "Don't see why not."

"Is there another lift?" the Doctor said.

"We came up in the service elevator," Martha piped up.

"That'll do. Allons-y!"

They met the Daleks and their new batch of humans in the burlesque hall. The Daleks ordered their creations to kill the Doctor and his friends, but the humans refused.

"DALEK HUMANS WILL OBEY!" The Dalek controller shrieked.

"But you are not our masters," said the lead Dalek human. "And we...we are not Daleks."

"No, you're not," the Doctor agreed. "And you never will be. Sorry, I got in the way of the lightning strike. Time Lord DNA got all mixed up. Just that little bit of freedom."

The Dalek humans rebelled against their creators, successfully killing two of them. The final survivor, the controller (Sec had been murdered by the Daleks, whom they considered "unclean") activated a self-destruct mechanism in the Dalek humans' biostructure. The Doctor journeyed to its hideout in the basement laboratory of the Empire State building to face it, but it escaped.

Meanwhile, Lazslo was dying. The pig slaves hadn't been made to have long lifespans. "Doctor, can't you do something?" Tallulah begged tearfully.

The Doctor took in a drawn out breath. "Oh, Tallulah with three Ls and an H...just you watch me."

Sam watched as the Doctor jumped up and dashed about the room, collecting vials and beakers of chemicals. "What do I need? Oh, I don't know. How about a great big genetic laboratory? Oh look! I've got one. Laszlo, just you hold on. There's been too many deaths today. Way too many people have died. Brand new creatures and wise old men and age old enemies. And I'm telling you, I'm telling you right now, I am not having one more death! You got that? Not one."

Sam smiled with pride, tearing up a little.

"Tallulah, out of the way." The Doctor drew a stethoscope out of his pocket. "The Doctor is in."

I think I love this man.

So the Doctor saved Laz's life, and he and Tallulah went with Frank to live in the Hooverville. They knew it wouldn't be easy-Laz was still physically mutated-but they wanted to try.

They parted ways, and the Doctor, Martha, and Sam walked back to the TARDIS, still parked on Liberty Island. "Do you reckon it's going to work, those two?" Martha was asking the Doctor.

Sam was following them a little ways back, thoughtfully silent.

"I don't know," the Doctor told her. "Anywhere else in the universe, I might worry about them, but New York? That's what this city's good at. Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, and maybe the odd pig slave Dalek mutant hybrid too." The Doctor looked up at the Statue of Liberty and grinned.

"The pig and the showgirl," said Martha, laughing.

"The pig and the showgirl." The Doctor nodded.

"It just proves it, I suppose," said Martha. "There's someone for everyone."

Sam was so lost in contemplation, he didn't notice Martha look over her shoulder at him as she said this.

"Maybe." The Doctor walked into the TARDIS.

Martha didn't follow him. She turned around and looked at the quiet third member of their party. "Sam?" she said.

Sam looked up. "What?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Just did." Sam grinned. "Kidding, Pidge. Go ahead. Shoot."

"You...you love the Doctor, don't you?" Martha blushed.

Sam froze. "I...well, yeah. He's my best friend."

"Maybe...more than a friend?"

Sam's cheeks got hot. "I don't know what you mean."

"He kissed you in the park."

Sam shrugged stiffly. "Just on the cheek."

Martha breathed in nervously. "Listen, Sam...I know you don't like me."

"What? Don't be ridiculous. What gave you that idea?"

"I'm young, I'm not stupid," said Martha. "Look...I want us to be friends. And yeah, the Doctor is...very attractive. But...I see the way he looks at you. And...I don't want to stand in the way of you two. I don't think I could."

Sam looked at his feet. Annie had once said that the Doctor looked at him, but he didn't want to let himself believe her.

"I'm right, aren't I?" said Martha, breaking into a grin. "You love him. Oh my God. Does he know? Oh, don't worry! I promise, I won't tell him."

Sam looked at her and smiled a little. "You know, Jones...maybe you're not so bad after all."

Martha looked relieved. "Thanks...you're pretty cool yourself, Tyler."

"Oi, are you two planning on staying in the city that never sleeps or are you coming with me?" The Doctor said, poking his head out of the door.

"Coming. Definitely." Martha looked at the other human. "Right, Sam?"

"Yeah," nodded Sam, breaking into a run and rushing inside with his friends. "Oh, Doctor...I'm sorry."

"What for?" the Doctor asked, manning the controls.

"For the Dalek getting away," said Sam. "I hate those abominations like crazy, so I know what it must mean to you."

The Doctor smiled sadly. "Thank you, Sam."

"Think you'll ever see it again?" Martha asked. "The Dalek, I mean."

The Doctor nodded slowly. "Oh, yes...one day."

Sam and Martha looked at each other, a mutual understanding in their eyes.

Chapter 49: Time Lord Rising, Volume 9

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Lazarus Experiment" by Stephen Greenhorn; original air date, May 5, 2007.
Scenes included from The King's Demons by Terence Dudley; original air date, March 15, 1983.

Chapter Text

"Where are we going, Doctor?" Sam asked.

The Doctor didn't answer as the TARDIS ceased wobbling and landed with a wheeze. "There we go!" he said proudly, with a flick of a lever. "Perfect landing."

"Yeah, but the ride was a bit unstable, that's for sure," Sam muttered to Martha, who giggled quietly.

"Which isn't easy," the Doctor continued, not having heard, "in such a tight spot."

"You should be used to tight spots by now," said Martha. Then she winked at Sam knowingly.

Sam blushed bright red. Martha laughed at him silently. Sam threw his hoodie over his head to hide his embarrassment from the Doctor, who thankfully hadn't picked up on the innuendo. Or least, chose not to hear it.

Martha looked at the Doctor. "Where are we?" she asked.

"The end of the line," the Doctor answered, his hands behind his back.

Sam watched him curiously. The Doctor had that sort of "devil-may-care" slight smile on his face, as if something sad was going on, but the Doctor was trying to pretend it didn't bother him. Sam had seen that face before.

Martha, who hadn't known the Time Lord long enough to pick on context clues, turned and walked to the door. She looked over her shoulder at him.

"No place like it," said the Doctor.

Sam realized what it meant. No place like home.

Martha still didn't get it. She raised her eyebrows excitedly. The Doctor nodded encouragingly. Martha, grinning, opened the door and stepped outside. The Doctor and Sam looked at each other silently and followed her.

"Home?" Martha asked as the two men joined her. Actually, they were nestled inside her bedroom. The room was slightly messy, with feng shui lamps and furniture. Her bedspread, desk chair, and curtains were bright orange. Sam noted the pang of disappointment in her tone. "You took me home?" Martha asked the Doctor.

"In fact, the morning after we left," the Doctor replied, stooping his bony form to gaze at a family picture perched on one of Martha's shelves. "So you've only been gone about twelve hours. No time at all, really."

"But...all the stuff we've done," said Martha, disbelievingly. "Shakespeare, New New York, Old New York-"

"That's the magic of time travel, Pidge," said Sam, grinning.

"Everything should be just as it was," added the Doctor. "Books, CDs..." The Doctor picked up one of Martha's shirt-a tube top, from what Sam could see-with one finger. "Laundry."

Martha grabbed it from him, blushing.

"So, back where you were, as promised."

"This is it?" Martha asked.

The Doctor nodded curtly. "Yeah. We should probably, um..."

Suddenly, Martha's phone rang. Hi, I'm out! Leave a message! came Martha's cheerful greeting on the answering machine.

"Sorry," Martha apologized, sheepishly.

"Why did it only ring once?" Sam said hushedly, as the machine picked up.

Martha, are you there? came a older, female voice that sounded slightly disgruntled. Pick up, will you?

"Mum?" Sam guessed.

"Yeah, I'll just wait."

Alright then, pretend that you're out if you like, Martha's mother continued. The time travelers share a silent chuckle. I was only calling to say your sister's on TV. On the news, of all things. Just thought you might be interested.

Martha picked up the remote on her coffee table and turned on the tube. "How did Tish end up on the news?" The channel was showing a special news report, where there was an elderly Caucasian man addressing the press, and a pretty, willowy black young woman that looked a little like Martha standing behind him.

"But I can tell you that tonight," the man was saying, "I will demonstrate a device which will redefine our world."

"She's got a new job," Martha explained about her sister. "PR for some research lab."

The Doctor didn't seem to be listening. He was focused on the man on the screen.

"With the push of a single button," the man proclaimed, "I will change what it means to be human."

Martha turned off the set as the press were calling out "Professor, Professor!" to the man. "Sorry. You were saying, you should..."

The Doctor tore his eyes away from the blank screen. "Yes, yes, we should..." He nodded. He put his hand on the TARDIS. "One trip, that's what we agreed."

"Yeah." Martha sighed, leaning on the police box. "Guess things just kind of...escalated."

The Doctor hummed. "Seems to happen to me a lot."

"I can vouch for that," Sam put in. He walked over and shook Martha's hand warmly. "It was lovely to meet you, Martha Jones. Thank you."

"No. Thank you," said Martha. "Both of you. For everything."

"It was our pleasure," the Doctor replied, smiling. "Well, come on, Sam."

The two of them walked into the TARDIS, leaving Martha outside. The Doctor went to the console and fired her up. Sam stood on the ramp, looking back at the door. "I'm gonna miss her," he admitted thoughtfully.

"Yeah," said the Doctor.

Sam looked at him. The Time Lord seemed to be lost in thought. "You're doin' that thing again," he said.

The Doctor looked up. "What thing?"

"Thinking," said Sam, coming over to him. "It was that news report, wasn't it?"

"No! No. Well...yes," the Doctor admitted.

Sam sighed. "You want to go back, don't you."

The Doctor groaned. "Yes," he said, sounding like a little kid waiting for Christmas.

"Well? What are you waiting for, idiot?" Sam laughed. "Let's turn this thing around!"

The Doctor grinned. "Alright!"

The TARDIS rematerialized in Martha's bedroom. The medical student looked surprised as the Doctor stuck his head out. "No, I'm sorry, did he say he was going to change what it means to be human?"

Sam and the Doctor changed into their tuxedos, while Martha put on a pretty, beaded black dress. "Oh, black tie," the Doctor complained, buttoning his cuff link.

"What's wrong with it?" Sam asked, making sure his bow tie was straight.

"Don't you remember the Cybermen and the alternate dimension?" the Doctor asked him. "We wore these then, too. They're bad luck."

"Oh, that was one time," Sam laughed.

"Yeah, but still, whenever I wear this, bad things happen," the Doctor insisted.

"That's not the outfit, that's just you," Martha said. "Anyway, it think it suits you. In a...James Bond kind of way. Wouldn't you agree, Sam?" Martha gave her fellow companion a knowing smile.

Sam was glad it was nighttime so the Doctor couldn't see his blush. "Yeah, er...I suppose. Whatever." Martha silently laughed at Sam's nonchalantness.

The truth was, Sam thought the Doctor looked...alright, incredibly hot. Good Lord, didn't he ever wear anything loose? Those pants didn't leave much to the imagination in the posterior department...not that Sam had been checking out the Doctor's bum. Again. Certainly not.

"James Bond?" the Doctor said. He brightened a little. "Really?"

Sam and Martha laughed at him kindly. "And you, Martha, look very lovely," said Sam, nodding to her.

"Thank you, Sam!" Martha grinned. She was really glad that she and Sam were friends now. She elbowed the Doctor. "Why can't any of his charm rub off on you?"

"Oi, 'charm' is my middle name!" the Doctor protested. "Well, that, and 'Aloysius'-wait, no, that's a rubbish middle name, forget I said that. Ah, here we are." The trio was standing out front of a museum-looking building, where there were paparazzi lined up, taking photos. Spotlights illuminated the title of the building, engraved in stone, "LAZARUS LABORATORIES".

Tish had invited Martha, so she got in with her invitation. The Doctor used his psychic paper to get in, but when it came to Sam's turn (he was supposed to be acting as Martha's date), the bouncer let him in without any trouble. "Heh. Thanks," said Sam, quickly following his party inside the gala event.

"Caviar, sir?" asked a waiter, bringing Sam a tray.

"Er, no thanks." This is weird. They're treating me like some sort of celebrity!

"Oh look, they've got nibbles!" the Doctor exclaimed excitedly, grabbing an hors d'oeuvre from a passing tray. "I love nibbles."

"Doctor," said Sam, shaking his head. "I know it'll be a struggle, but do try not to be an idiot for once."

The Doctor tried to glare at him, but was smiling. "Always out to ruin my fun, aren't you, Tyler?"

"You know it." Sam bumped his arm. "I'll always be there to ruin things for you."

"I hope so." The Doctor smiled.

Sam suddenly felt shivery. "Ooh, it's, uh...cold in here, eh? Must be a draft coming in from somewhere."

"Hello!" Tish, Martha's sister, came over, also in a formal evening gown. The girls hugged. "You look great," Tish said to Martha. "So, what do you think? Impressive, right?"

"Very," said Martha, looking around the lavish event hall.

"And two nights out in a row for you, that's dangerously close to a social life," Tish teased.

Sam snorted a laugh. Tish looked at him, and the Doctor. "Hello, I'm sorry, I don't think I know you," she said.

"Er, yeah, sorry, I'm the Doctor," said the tall Time Lord.

"And I'm Sam Tyler," he said as he shook her hand. "Pleasure."

"Wait...you two weren't on the list," said Tish, looking from Sam to the Doctor. "How did you get in?"

"Well apparently, you didn't see the final draft of the list," the Doctor laughed. "We're VIPs."

"I think I would've seen your names, I'm Professor Lazarus's head of P.R.," said Tish. "I put this whole thing together.

"So do you know what the professor's going to be doing tonight? That looks like it might be a sonic microfield manipulator," the Doctor said, quickly changing the subject, casting his gaze to the big refrigerator looking apparatus in the center of the room.

"He's a science geek, I should have known," Tish muttered to Martha. "Got to get back to work now. I'll catch up with you later." And she ran off.

"Science geek? What does that mean?" the Doctor asked.

"That you're obsessively enthusiastic about it," said Sam, putting it nicely.

"Oh." The Doctor smiled. "Nice."

Suddenly, another woman, older, but also looked like Martha, and a young man who was presumably her son, came over to them, the woman saying to the young man, "your father's caused me enough heartache already with his menopause and his trophy girlfriend."

"Yeah, mum, I know. It was just something he said last night," the boy said.

"Martha!" said the woman, and Sam recognized her voice from Martha's answering machine. It was Martha's mother.

Martha whirled around. "Mum!" she gasped, pulling her mother in for a tight hug.

"Oh!" the woman laughed with surprise. "Alright, what's the occasion?"

"Er, what do you mean? I'm just...happy to see you, is all," said Martha quickly. Sam and the Doctor shared a look.

"You saw me last night," Mrs. Jones reminded her daughter.

"I-I know." Martha smiled. "I just...miss you." She turned to the young man, who must be her brother. "You look good, Leo."

"Yeah, if anyone asks me for a drink, I'll swing for 'em." The siblings laughed.

"You disappeared last night," Mrs. Jones said to Martha.

"I...just went home," said Martha.

"On your own?" Mrs. Jones inquired.

Martha looked at her traveling mates. "Erm, Mum, Leo, these are some friends of mine. This is Sam Tyler, and this is the Doctor."

"Doctor what?" Mrs. Jones said.

"No, no, it's just 'the Doctor'," replied Martha. "We've been doing some work together. All of us."

Sam and the Doctor took turns shaking Leo's hand. "Good to meet you, mate," said Sam.

"Likewise," replied Leo.

"Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Jones, heard all about you," said the Doctor, shaking the older woman's hand.

The woman eyed him suspiciously. "Have you? What have you heard, then?"

"Ah, you know...that you're Martha's mother," said the Doctor.

"Smooth," muttered Sam.

"And?" Mrs. Jones pushed.

"Um...actually, that's about it, really," said the Doctor, flushing. "We haven't had much time to chat, you know, we've been busy."

"Busy? Doing what, exactly?"

"Uh, pathology!" Sam broke in, before the Doctor could shove his Converse any further into his own mouth. "We've been working together in the pathology lab. Dissecting diseases, cutting open carcinogens...all that deliciously interesting...pathology...stuff."

"Mm-hm." It was obvious Mrs. Jones didn't believe him, but she at least backed off.

Suddenly, there was a loud tapping of a glass. "Ladies and gentleman..." Everyone's eyes turned to the elderly man standing in the spotlight in the center of the room. It was the same man they'd seen on the telly this morning. "I am Professor Richard Lazarus. And tonight...I'm going to perform a miracle."

The Doctor and Sam kept their eyes trained him. "It is, I believe," Lazarus continued, "the most important advance since Rutherford split the atom, the biggest leap since Armstrong stood on the moon. Tonight, you will watch and wonder. Tomorrow, you will wake to a world which will be changed forever."

Except for the shutters of cameras snapping, the room was silent, awaiting Lazarus's great scientific reveal. The elderly man turned and opened the door of his machine, then stepped inside. Technicians pushed buttons and flicked switches. Then they nodded.

Suddenly the machine lit up with blinding white-blue light, so bright, the humans in the room had to shield their eyes. The four rotors around the machine spun and cranked rapidly. Streaks of electricity flashed around the device, and an alarm began to sound.

"Doctor, is something going wrong?" Sam asked.

"It's overloading!" the Doctor exclaimed. He ran over to the computers, hopped lithely over the counter, and pulled out his sonic screwdriver, beginning to scan.

"Martha, stand back!" Sam said, grabbing his companion's arm. "Everyone, stand back!"

"Someone stop him!" an old woman cried, pointing at the Doctor, who was working frantically to shut down the out-of-control device. "Get him away from those controls!"

"If this thing goes up, it'll take the whole building with it. Is that what you want?" the Doctor shouted. He hopped back over the table and yanked a wire out of one of the computers. The machine, thankfully, began to slow down, and came to a stop.

Sam and Martha rushed to the door of the device, trying to pry it open. The door swung open, emitting a large plume of white smoke.

A hand-the Professor's hand, only now the flesh was young and taut-reached out through the smoke and grabbed the frame of the door for support. "Oh my God," said Sam, stepping back.

The rest of the man followed. His skin was smooth, his hair golden blonde, and his whole person glowed with health. The onlookers gasped.

Professor Lazarus looked at his hand, then touched his cheek. He laughed with delight. He stumbled out of the machine and stood up, straight and tall. "Ladies and gentlemen...I am Richard Lazarus. I am seventy-six years old...and I am reborn!"

The audience went crazy. The Doctor and Sam however, just looked at each other silently, both thinking the same thing: This is very, very wrong.

Turns out, they were right. After a DNA analysis, they discovered that Lazarus's DNA was fluctuating back and forth. He was depleted of energy, which he had literally sucked out of the rich old woman Lady Thaw. And it seemed like Martha's sister Tish was his next target.

"One lifetime's been too short for me to do everything I'd like," Lazarus reasoned. "How much more I'll get done in two or three or four."

"Doesn't work like that," said the Doctor. "Some people live more in twenty years than others do in eighty. It's not the time that matters, it's the person."

"But if it's the right person, what a gift that would be," Lazarus persisted.

"Or what a curse."

Sam felt like taking the Doctor's hand.

The Professor ended up transforming into a monster. Luckily, they got Tish away from him just in time.

Downstairs, the gang was trying desperately to get the party goers out safely. A man grabbed Sam's arm. "Come with me, sir, the chopper's waiting."

"Oi, I'm not going anywhere!" Sam exclaimed. "We've got to get these people out of here. Give that chopper to someone who needs it!" He shrugged the man off and ran away.

Martha and Sam succeeded in evacuating the building. "Martha, get to safety. I'll find the Doctor!" Sam shouted.

"No way, mister, I'm coming with you!" Martha said, running after him.

"Martha, think of your family. They need you right now. There might be people out there who need medical attention. You belong down here." Sam touched her shoulder. "I'll be alright. I always am."

"I thought that last mad scheme of yours had finished you for good," snorted the Rani, a scientific Time Lady, one of the Master's, and the Doctor's, old schoolmates, and now an independent rebel, just like them.

"You jest, of course. I'm indestructible. The whole universe knows that," the Master smirked.

Sam swallowed. "Yeah. I'll be fine. Now, go!"

Sam dashed upstairs. "Where could he be?"

Suddenly, Sam heard a crash from upstairs. "That'll be him." And he ran toward the sound.

The Doctor and Sam found each in a hallway. "Doctor!" Sam cried.

"Sam, what the hell are you doing back up here, are you insane?!"

"No more than you are. Let's run!" The Doctor and Sam clasped hands and raced away from the monstrous Professor chasing after them.

They ran into the reception hall. "What now, we've gone 'round in a circle!" Sam panted.

"Quick, in here!" The Doctor and Sam lunged into the machine.

"Oh, this thing, this started the whole mess!" Sam exclaimed. Since the device was exactly the size of a small closet, the Doctor and Sam were uncomfortably pressed up against each other. Sam's heart was pounding, which he hoped the Doctor would attest to the fact that they'd just been running, and...nothing else.

The Doctor, attracted by the sound of "King John's" singing and mandolin playing, of course had to come snooping. He stuck his bright blonde head inside the bedchamber. The Master, from his dark corner hiding place, silently chuckled at the Doctor's eyes, widening at Kamelion's true form.

The robot looked up at its visitor. "Welcome, my demon," said the robot amiably.

The Doctor pulled his hands out of his pockets, strode across the room to the robot's chair, and knelt beside it, looking the robot over. "Your Majesty seems in need of a Doctor," he remarked.

Of course. No matter what form he took, the Doctor never could resist his own awful puns. Deciding it was time for his trademark dramatic entrance, the Master spoke up. "Allow me to introduce Kamelion."

The Doctor stood up straight as his nemesis revealed himself. "Your work," he said quietly. But was he accusing, or appreciating?

Either way, the Master smirked. "Alas, modesty forbids such a claim. Kamelion is a tool of an earlier invader of Xeriphas, and instrumental in my escape from that benighted planet." There was an edge to his voice. He still had not forgiven him for their last encounter, but was eager to show that he was clever enough to escape on his own, without his enemy's help.

"This is your King John," surmised the Doctor.

The Master smiled cruelly. Now it was really time to show off. "Look again," he entreated, waving a black gloved hand at the creature. Kamelion's outer form changed to that of the current King of England.

The Doctor briefly tipped his head to the side in appreciation. "Impressive," he admitted.

"A weapon used by the invaders of Xeriphas. A decoy, capable of infinite form or personality," said the Master proudly.

"Interesting."

"Well said, my demon," said the false King, putting down his mandolin. "We are a complex mass of artificial neurons."

"And controlled by?" inquired the Doctor.

"Nothing more than simple concentration and psychokinetics," replied the Master. "Look again." The Master channeled his mental energy into transforming Kamelion into his next form: the Doctor.

The Doctor looked from his double, to his foe. The Master raised an eyebrow. A challenge.

The Doctor corresponded, understanding immediately. "Can anyone play?"

The Master smirked. "Please."

The Doctor concentrated, and Kamelion morphed into the Master. The second man in black familiarly leered at his original and said, "Quite masterly."

The Master was less than amused. "You flatter me, I prefer bad King John."

Sam shook himself out of his daydream. "He knows we're in here," he said to the Doctor.

"But this is his masterpiece," said the Doctor. "I'm guessing he wouldn't destroy it, not even to get to us."

"But how are we going to get out of here?!" Sam hissed. The Doctor's scent was right in his breathing space, and one of his spindly legs was lodged between his thighs. It was rather distracting. Life or death, Tyler, life or death! he angrily reminded himself.

The Doctor looked sheepish. "Ah. Right. That."

Sam couldn't believe it. "You don't have a plan, do you?!"

"It's kind of been touch and go here, Sam, I've never exactly dealt with age-reverse- humans-who-mutate-into-soul-sucking-monsters before!"

Outside, Lazarus growled. The Doctor angled his arm around Sam's shoulders. "Oomph, Doctor!" growled Sam as his face was pressed into the Doctor's neck.

"Sorry, sorry, needed to get this." The Doctor dug his screwdriver out of his breast pocket. "Okay, just...sorry about this." He started to slid down Sam's body.

"Whoa, whoa, Doctor, what are you doing?!" Sam gasped.

"Improvising!" the Doctor exclaimed from somewhere around Sam's pelvis.

Sam stood back and braced himself against the side of the machine. He looked down in disbelief at the spiky head between his legs...

Oh. Oh dear.

Oh my God, thought Sam, as he felt his blood, heated, rushing through his body. Not here! Not NOW!

"So Kamelion here is bad King John," the Doctor repeated.

"Aided and abetted by you, his 'demon'," the Master quoted, amusedly, "and your blue engine."

"Cunning of you to confirm the superstitions put about by the monks," said the Doctor, raising his eyebrows, giving a cool smile.

The Master stepped away from Kamelion to better address his adversary. "Irresistable," he couldn't help but purr. "Your arrival here was most timely."

"A gift," said the Doctor, bitterly sarcastic.

The Master let his eyes travel briefly over the Doctor's body. Was it the candle lighting in this castle, or did the Doctor look even more attractive than usual? "How succinctly put."

Perhaps the Doctor noticed the staring, because the Master caught sight of a blush as the Doctor turned away (that was fine, the Doctor's backside was equally pleasant to look at) to pace thoughtfully. "The King turns the Barons solidly against him, he is killed in battle or deposed, possibly in favour of King Phillip of France. He cannot therefore offer Magna Carta. What do you think of it so far?" the Doctor asked mockingly.

"I couldn't do better myself," the Master said smugly.

"Thus the foundations of parliamentary democracy..." The Doctor breathed on the back of Kamelion's head and shined it up with the sleeve of his beige jacket, with an air of swagger. "...will never laid."

The Master smirked. The Doctor's quick mind was even more stimulating than his physical presence. "Brilliant," he said, complementing the both of them.

The Doctor's expression turned from cocky to serious. "You cannot be allowed to alter the course of history, even indirectly."

"How do you propose to stop me?" the Master inquired.

"I shall have to give it some thought," said the Doctor.

"You haven't much time," the Master pointed out.

"And you haven't your compressor," the Doctor snapped back.

The Master stepped forward and leaned into the Doctor's face. He relished the sight of the Doctor's blue eyes widening at the sudden invasion of his personal space. At this distance he could smell the Doctor's Venusian Spearment flavored toothpaste. "I still have my wits," he hissed.

The Doctor, though his eyes betrayed fear (and perhaps, anticipation?), held his resolve. "So do I."

"Erm...Doctor," Sam strained, cursing himself for his voice coming out squeaky.

"Sam? You alright?" The Doctor's voice echoed up.

"O-o-oh yeah, I'm fine," Sam stammered. Just PLEASE don't look up.

Suddenly, the machine started to shake, and the sides lit up. "Doctor, he's started the machine!" Sam exclaimed, slightly relieved to have something to take his mind off of the inopportune erection he'd suddenly developed.

"I was hoping it was going to take him a little bit longer to work that out," the Doctor grimaced, frantically trying to rewire the device.

"What are you doing?!" Sam exclaimed.

"I'm trying to set the capsule to reflect energy rather than receive it!" the Doctor shouted.

"Will that kill it?" Sam asked, panicking.

"When he transforms, he's three times his size. Cellular triplication. So he's spreading himself thin."

The machine began rattling even harder, the light shining brighter. "We're going to end up like him!" Sam cried. "Reverse the polarity, do something!"

"Just one more circuit!"

It worked. The machine outwardly discharged the energy and knocked the beast out. The Doctor and Sam crawled out of the machine and looked at poor, pathetic Professor Lazarus's body lying on the ground. "Man...he seems so...human now," said Sam. "It's kind of pitiful."

The Doctor nodded. "This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but with a whimper."

"T.S. Eliot?" Sam said.

The Doctor nodded. "You're full of surprises, Sam Tyler. By the way, how did you know about reversing the polarity?"

"Er...guess I heard you say it," Sam lied. Well, it wasn't technically a lie. He'd seen it in his visions of the younger Doctor and his nemesis, the Master.

The Doctor stared at him for a second more, then shrugged and looked back at Lazarus's body.

"Doctor! Sam!" the two heard Martha yell as they came out of the museum. She came rushing up to them and hugged them both. "So...it's over? It's really over?"

They watched as Lazarus's corpse passed by on a stretcher. "It's over," said the Doctor.

"Martha! Mum, she's over here!" Tish and the rest of Martha's family came rushing over.

"Ah, Mrs. Jones. Lovely to see you again." Suddenly, Mrs. Jones slapped the Doctor across the face. "Ow!"

"Stay away from my daughter!" Mrs. Jones hissed at him.

"Mum!" Martha squawked.

Mrs. Jones turned to her daughter. "He is dangerous! I've been told things!"

"Mrs. Jones, this was all Professor Lazarus's doing. If anything, the Doctor saved us all," Sam insisted.

Mrs. Jones gave him a hawkish look. "And you! You stay away from her too."

Suddenly, they heard a crash. A crash that sounded like it might have come from an ambulance. "Oh no," said the Doctor.

"Not over, then." Sam and the Time Lord rushed down the street after the noise. "Martha, no!" Mrs. Jones shouted as the medical student followed after them.

They found Professor Lazarus, alive, sitting huddled in the middle of Southwark Cathedral, draped in his ambulance shroud. Lazarus tried to feed on Martha and Tish, but with some genius on the Doctor's part, they were able to reverse the process once and for all.

They were safe.

Back at Martha's flat, the Doctor and Sam were preparing to leave. Again. "Something else just kind of escalated," said the Doctor, leaning against the TARDIS.

"Tends to happen around us," Sam added.

Martha nodded. "I noticed. You two should take more care in the future. And the past. And whatever time period you find yourself in."

"It's good fun, though, isn't it?" the Doctor said, grinning.

"Yeah," Martha laughed.

Sam looked at the Doctor. "Come on, Doctor. One last trip? Martha?"

Martha smiled and looked at the TARDIS, then frowned. "No. Sorry."

"But I thought you liked it," said Sam.

"I do, but I can't go on like this. 'One more trip.' It's not fair."

"What're you talking about?" the Doctor asked.

Martha gave Sam a meaningful look. "It's just...I'm only getting in the way. That TARDIS may be big, but it's not big enough for all three of us. Doctor, you have Sam, you really don't need me. I don't just want to be the girl that tags along. I'd rather stay here."

"Okay, then," shrugged the Doctor. "If that's what you want."

Martha nodded firmly. "Right. But we've already said goodbye once today. It's probably best if you just go.

Martha turned away from them. The Doctor and Sam looked at each other and laughed.

Martha turned back around. "What is it? Why are you two laughing?"

"What? I said okay," said the Doctor shruggingly.

"Sorry?"

"You heard the man," said Sam. "Okay."

The two of them gestured to the TARDIS.

Martha finally got it. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" She eagerly hugged both of them.

"Well, Pidge, you were never just 'the girl that tags along', were you?" said Sam, ushering them into the TARDIS. Still laughing, he was about to follow them inside, when suddenly, Martha's answering machine sounded.

It was Martha's mother again. Martha, it's your mother. Her voice sounded scared. Please phone me back. I'm begging you. I know who this Doctor really is. I know he's dangerous. You're going to get yourself killed. Please, trust me. This information comes from Harold Saxon himself! You're not safe!

Sam whirled around at the name. Harold Saxon? His alternate self?

"Sam? Come on!" called the Doctor.

"Coming!" Sam ducked inside the TARDIS. He shook off the message. Surely, it couldn't be what he thought...

Something bad is coming, Sam thought.

Chapter 50: Time Lord Rising, Volume 10

Notes:

Chapter based on "42" by Chris Chibnall; original air date, May 19, 2007.

Chapter Text

Last night...

The Doctor was sleeping soundly when he was awoken by a noise. Someone was opening his door.

"Sam?" he said, slowly blinking, But the room was pitch black, and he couldn't see anything. He heard floor boards creaking, inching slowly toward his bed.

He felt a weight on his side, like someone climbing onto the mattress and balancing on their knee. Then something warm, human, straddled his pelvis, bent legs on either side of his thighs.

"Sam?" The Doctor repeated, more surprised this time. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and he could now see his companion's face directly above him. "What are you-"

Sam shushed him. Then, without warning, he leant down and kissed the Doctor.

The Doctor's breath caught in his chest. "Sam!" His voice came out muffled under Sam's lips. "What-"

"Mm-mm," Sam murmured, bringing up a hand to cup the Doctor's cheek, and kissed him again. The Doctor found himself kissing back, melting into the union. He gasped as Sam suckled his lips, first the top, then the bottom, and involuntarily moaned as Sam carefully bit down. The Doctor's eyelids fluttered shut and he helplessly relaxed into the other man's embrace, Sam's right hand twining in his soft, brown, spikey hair.

Sam finally broke the kiss, backed up a bit, and looked down at him, lust and affection lacing his eyes. "Sam, what are you doing here?" the Doctor whispered, utterly dazed.

Sam shushed him again, putting a finger to his lips, then lightly tracing it down the Doctor's chin, his neck. The Doctor shivered.

"Look at you," Sam whispered. His fingers continued down toward, drawing little trails down the Doctor's chest. "Oh, Doctor," breathed Sam. "My Doctor."

He leaned down again, this time opting to kiss his sensitive Time Lord neck, nuzzling the soft flesh of his throat, licking and biting. The Doctor was moaning loudly-

The Doctor gasped and sat up in bed. His whole body was flushed, and his lower anatomy was...quite stimulated, let's leave it at that.

It had been a dream. Just a dream.

The Doctor was glad his room was far off from Sam's or Martha's. If either of them had heard him moaning in his sleep like that-oh, Rassilon, would that have been embarrassing.

The Doctor hoped that neither of the humans were up, and tromped off to the bathroom. He had a little trouble walking.

The next morning...

"Right, there we go." The Doctor finished sonicking Martha's phone and chucked it to her. "Universal roaming. Never have to worry about a signal again."

Martha looked down at the mobile in her hand. "No way."

"Yes way, Pidge," Sam grinned at her. "He did the same with my phone, oh...so long ago."

The Doctor smiled at him.

Sam noticed that the Doctor's eyes looked slightly worn; there were dark rings under them. "Had trouble sleeping last night, mate?"

The Doctor looked away quickly. Was Sam just imagining it, or did the Doctor blush? "Er, yeah, I'm fine. Just..." The Doctor coughed nervously. "Had a funny dream."

"This is too mad." Martha was still in disbelief about her phone. "You're telling me I can phone anyone, anywhere in space and time on my mobile?"

"As long as you know the area code," the Doctor joked. "Frequent flier's privilege. Go on, try it."

Martha seemed to be about to call someone, when suddenly, the TARDIS gave a great shudder. "Distress signal," explained the Doctor as he checked the screens. "Locking on. Might be a bit of-"

The time travelers were knocked to the floor. Martha sat up, looking quite shaken up. "-turbulence," the Doctor finished. "Sorry. Come on, you two. Let's take a look."

They walked out into a red-lit boiler room. Sam immediately shrugged off his hoodie. "Whoa, now that is hot!" the Doctor exclaimed, fanning himself.

"Whuff, it's like a sauna in here," said Martha, shedding her sweater.

"What the hell?" groaned Sam, wishing they were back in the nice, cool TARDIS. "What is this place?"

"A venting system," the Doctor answered, looking around. "Working at full pelt, trying to cool down...wherever it is we are." The Doctor had spotted a door across the room and started heading for it. "Well, if you can't stand the heat..."

The Doctor opened the bulkhead and went through. "Ah, well that's better," the Doctor said, waving his companions through.

"Oi, you two!" The Doctor, Sam, and Martha's heads whipped around to see two men and a woman running toward them. "Get out of there!" shouted the woman.

"Seal that door, now!" ordered one of the men. The other came and bolted the door that the trio had just come through.

The woman ran up to them, panting. "Who are you?" she demanded. "What are you doing on my ship?"

One of the men, a young lad with hazel eyes and dark hair, asked, in a slight Irish accent, "Are you police?"

"Why would we be police?" asked the Doctor.

"We got your distress signal," said Martha.

"Hang about," said Sam, looking at the ceiling inquisitively. "If this is a ship, why can't I hear any engines?"

Just what I was going to ask. Brilliant, Sam! the Doctor couldn't help but think proudly.

"It went dead four minutes ago," the woman answered. She was middle aged, had long, stringy, dark blond hair, and big, intense green eyes. Her limbs were bony, and her hands her big and calloused.

"So maybe we should stop chatting and get to Engineering," said the second man to her in a thick Scottish accent. He was about the same age as the woman, with dark eyes and unruly sandy brown hair. "Captain," he added pointedly.

Suddenly, a computerized voice from up above announced: Secure closure active.

"What?" said the Captain, shocked.

"The ship's gone mad," muttered the angry Scot.

"Who activated secure closure?!" Another woman, with short dark hair and long, nearly skeletal arms and legs, was running up the corridor toward them, narrowly missing the bulkheads closing behind her. She was carrying a welding helmet and some gloves. "I nearly got locked into area twenty seven!" The last bulkhead slammed shut behind her. Skeletor looked around at the newcomers. "Who are you?" she asked.

"He's the Doctor, that's Sam, and I'm Martha. Hello," said Martha numbly, walking right past Skeletor and approaching a window on the far side of the room.

"Martha?" Sam followed her to the window and looked out. "Oh my God. Is that-?!"

Impact projection: forty two minutes twenty seven seconds, announced the computer.

"We'll get out of this," swore the Captain, looking at all of them. "I promise."

"Doctor," said Sam. "You need to see this."

"Forty two minutes until what?" the Doctor asked the Captain.

"Doctor! Look!" exclaimed Martha.

The Doctor ran over to look out the window with his companions. Outside, was a yellow, glowing, firey orb, that was huge, and was growing. They were moving toward it.

"Forty two minutes until we crash into the sun," said the Captain.

The Doctor felt Sam's hand slip into his. "What do we do?" his traveling mate whispered.

The Doctor swallowed. He squeezed Sam's hand reassuringly, then dropped it to run back over to the Captain. "How many crew members on board?" he questioned her.

"Seven, including us," answered the Captain, indicating herself, Scotty, the Irish lad, and Skeletor.

"We transport cargo across the galaxy," said Scotty. "Everything's automated, we just keep the ship spaceworthy."

"Call the others, I'll get you out!" The Doctor bolted for the door through which they had just come.

"What's he doing?!"

"No, don't!" the Captain cried.

The Doctor wrenched open the door, and a huge cloud of hot, hot steam came pouring out of the room. Skeletor put on her welding gear to push it closed again. "But my ship's in there!" shouted the Doctor.

"In the vent chamber?!" said the Irish lad in disbelief.

"Long story," muttered Sam.

"It's our lifeboat!" the Doctor insisted.

"It's lava," said Scotty sourly.

"Temperature's goin' mad in there!" Skeletor exclaimed, checking the thermometer on the wall next to the door. "Up three thousand degrees in ten seconds and still rising!"

"Channeling the air," said Scotty. "Closer we get to the sun, the 'otter that room's gonna get."

Martha glared at the Doctor. "We're stuck here."

"Martha, calm down," said Sam, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"'Calm down'?!" Martha shrieked angrily.

"So...we fix the engines, we steer the ship away from the sun. Simple!" said the Doctor. "Engineering down here, is it?" He took off for the side room. Sam, Martha, and the crew followed after him.

Impact in forty twenty six.

It wouldn't be as simple as the Doctor thought. The engines were absolutely wrecked, and Korwin, the technician, was nowhere to be found. There were auxiliary engines, but they were all the way at the front of the ship, with 29 sealed bulkheads to get through, all with randomly generated passwords. Martha went with the Irish boy, Riley Vashtee, to help him open the doors, while Sam opted to stay with the Doctor.

"Figure I can keep you from getting in trouble this way," said Sam, elbowing him playfully.

McDonnell. A man's voice over the ship's intercom. It's Ashton.

The Captain answered the call. "Where are you? Is Korwin with you?"

Get up to the medcenter. Now, said Ashton, and clicked off.

Captain McDonnell looked the Time Lord. "You're a Doctor, right?"

The Doctor nodded and followed after her. "Sam." He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Be careful."

Sam nodded solemnly. "You too."

Impact in thirty four thirty one.

The Doctor and McDonnell arrived in the medcenter, where a lady nurse and a grizzly bald man were trying to pin down a desperately wriggling man with his eyes clenched shut.

"Korwin, it's Abi," said the lady nurse in a calm voice. "Open your eyes, I need to take a look at you."

"Korwin!" exclaimed McDonnell. "What's happened? Is he okay?"

"Help me! It's burning me!" wailed Korwin, struggling against his restrainers.

"How long's he been like this?" the Doctor asked.

"Ashton just brought him in," said the nurse, Abi, nodding to her assistant.

The Doctor scanned Korwin with his screwdriver. "What are you doing?" McDonnell asked him.

"Don't get too close," warned the Doctor.

"Don't be so stupid. That's my husband," said McDonnell, coming over the patient's side to get a better look at him.

"And he's just sabotaged our ship," added Ashton gruffly.

McDonnell whipped around to face him. "What?!"

"He went mad!" explained Ashton. "He put the ship onto secure closure, then he set the heat pulse to melt the controls."

"No way. He wouldn't do that," McDonnell insisted.

"I saw it happen, Captain," Ashton informed her.

"Korwin?" said the Doctor. "Korwin, open your eyes for me a second."

"I can't!" groaned Korwin, keeping his eyelids firmly shut.

"Yeah, course you can. Go on," encouraged the Doctor.

Korwin gasped in pain. "Don't make me look at you, please," he begged.

The Doctor grabbed a hypo-needle gun from a side table. "Alright, alright, just relax. Sedative?"

"Yes," gasped Korwin.

The Doctor shot him in the neck. Korwin cried out in pain, then went slack. McDonnell looked at the Doctor. "What's wrong with him?" she asked.

"Rising body temperature, unusual energy readings. Stasis chamber, I do love a good stasis chamber," he said, pointing to the MRI-looking machine they had Korwin slid out of. "Keep him sedated in there. Regulate the body temperature. And, just for fun, run a bioscan and tissue profile on a metabolic detail."

"Just doing them now," said Abi, at the computer.

"Oh, you're good," the Doctor commended her. "Anyone else presenting these symptoms?"

"Not so far," Abi reported.

"Ah, well, that's something," sighed the Doctor.

"Will someone tell me what's the matter with him?!" McDonnell questioned.

"Some sort of infection," said the Doctor. "We'll know more after the test results. Now, allons-y, back downstairs, I left my companion down there alone, and bless him, he's a bit of an idiot. Call us if there's news. Any questions?"

"Yeah, er...who are you?" asked Abi as the Doctor, McDonnell, and Ashton were running out together.

The Doctor poked his head back in. "I'm the Doctor." Then he dashed back out.

Heat shield failing. At twenty-five percent. Impact in thirty two fifty.

As the Doctor, Sam, Ashton, the Scotsman (his name was Scannell), and Skeletor (Erina), worked on the engines, Martha and Riley were working to open the doors. "Martha, Riley, how're you doing?" the Doctor said on the intercom.

Area twenty nine at the door to twenty eight! Martha answered.

"Yeah, you gotta move faster," the Doctor urged.

We're doing our best!

Find the next number in the sequence, came Riley's voice. 313, 331, 367...what?

You said the crew knew all the answers, said Martha.

The crew's changed since we set the questions.

You're joking!

"379," Sam whispered to himself.

The Doctor looked at him. "What did you say?"

"Uh...just...nothing, I didn't say anything," said Sam.

"Yes, you did, say it again," the Doctor said.

"Er...just..." Sam swallowed. "379?"

The Doctor stared at him in disbelief.

"Sorry, stupid, I just...I don't know where I came up with it-"

"No, no, that's...yes, that's it, you're brilliant!" The Doctor surged forward and kissed Sam on the forehead. Then he ran back over to the speaker. "379!"

What? Martha said.

"It's a sequence of happy primes, 379!"

Happy what? Martha asked.

The Doctor sighed in disgust. "Just enter it!"

Are you sure? Riley asked. We only get one chance!

"Any number that reduces to one when you take the sum of the square of its digits and you continue reiterating until it yields one is a happy number; any number that doesn't, isn't; a happy prime is a number that is both happy and prime, now type it in! Ugh, talk about dumbing down. Don't they teach recreational mathematics anymore?" said the Doctor, turning to Sam, throwing up his arms up in disgust.

Sam shook his head. "How did you say all that in one breath?" he asked, grinning.

The Doctor smiled coyly. "I don't know, Sam Tyler. How did a bloke who never even took his A-levels compute a complicated sequence like that? Your tiny human brains are too under-evolved for that." He ruffled Sam's thick hair with his knuckles playfully, tucking the human's head under his arm, making Sam laugh. "That's why you got so much hair, you know! You got no brains! Your body's overcompensating!"

"Oi, Doctor, let me go!" Sam cackled as they rough-housed.

"Excuse me." Both boys disentangled at the sound of McDonnell's stern voice. "Hate to interrupt the moment, but we are on kind of a time limit."

"Right, sorry," the Doctor apologized. "Riley? Martha? That code work for you?"

Martha let out a relieved laugh. We're through!

"Keep moving, fast as you can. And, Martha...be careful," added the Doctor ominously. "There may be something else on board this ship."

Any time you want to unnerve me, feel free, said Martha sarcastically.

"Will do, thanks," said the Doctor.

Impact in thirty fifty.

The Doctor came over to his companion. "How are you?" he asked.

"Oh, swell. You know, considering I'm working with space technology I know nothing about, in a creepy dark ship in a beeline for the sun. But you know. I'm fine." Sam smiled up ruefully at the Time Lord.

The Doctor laughed slightly. "You're a good man, Sam Tyler."

"Doctor..." said Sam slowly. "Doesn't this remind you of anything? Like say...Krop Tor?"

The Doctor thought back to that planet that was inexplicably orbiting a black hole, and how the Doctor and Sam got stuck on the Sanctuary Base there. "Yeah...but, hey, we got out of there alive that time, we'll get out of this mess too."

"Will we?" asked Sam, looking at him sharply. "How do you know that?"

The Doctor sighed and sank down beside him. "Sam...did I ever tell you how I got through that? Facing the Beast, releasing Krop Tor from its orbit?"

Sam shook his head.

"Because I had faith...faith in you," said the Doctor.

"Me?" Sam laughed a little. "Why me?"

"Because that time, I had to depend on my faith in something I believed in. So I focused on you."

Sam looked down at his lap. The light in the room was dark, but the Doctor thought maybe Sam was blushing. "And now..." continued the Doctor, putting a hand on his shoulder, "...I have to ask you to believe in me."

Sam smiled. He put his hand over the Doctor's. "I do. Till the end of time, Doctor. And whatever comes after that."

The Doctor smiled back and began to walk away, but then Sam said, "Doctor, wait. There's something I have to tell you-"

Doctor, these readings are starting to scare me. Abi's voice cut him off.

"What do you mean?" the Doctor asked, going over to the intercom.

Well, Korwin's body's changing, his whole biological makeup!...it's impossible.

Then suddenly, there was silence. Then...

This is medcenter, said Abi, her voice shaking slightly. Urgent assistance required. Urgent assistance!

Another voice joined hers. BURN WITH ME, croaked Korwin.

"Stay here, keep working!" said the Doctor, running out to assist the medic.

"I'm going with you!" exclaimed Sam, chasing after him. McDonnell and Scannell went, too.

Then, they heard a scream.

In the medcenter, they found a woman's silhouette burned into the wall. "Oh my God..." said McDonnell weakly. "Tell me that's not her."

The Doctor lightly touched the ashes on the wall that used to be Abi. "Endothermic vaporisation," said the Doctor.

And Korwin was gone. "He killed her," said Sam.

"No," said McDonnell. "My husband would never."

"Captain," said Sam gently. "I think your husband's gone."

"And now he's somewhere on this ship," said Scannell darkly. "Waiting to kill us all."

Impact in twenty four fifty one.

Things were bad. Korwin was dead, but now Ashton was infected. Erina and Abi were dead. The time was quickly ticking away till they were all dead, and the heat shields were failing every moment. Worst of all, Martha and Riley were trapped inside an escape pod, drifting toward the sun.

There was only one thing to do. The Doctor would have to take a space walk to the outer hull, to be able to remagnatize the escape pod and get it back.

"You want to open an airlock in flight on a ship spinning into the sun. No one can survive that!" Scannell protested as the Doctor pulled on his spacesuit. "You open that airlock, it's suicide. This close to the sun, the shields will barely protect you."

"If I can boost the magnetic lock on the ship's exterior, it should remagnetize the pod. Now, while I'm out there, you and Sam have got to get the rest of those doors open. We need those auxiliary engines." The Doctor put on his helmet.

"Doctor, will you listen! They're too far away. It's too late," Scannell insisted.

The Doctor looked him dead in the eye. "I'm not going to lose her." Then he turned around. Sam was standing there. "And is this the part where you tell me not to go, that this is too dangerous?" the Doctor asked him.

Sam shook his head slowly. "No. Past experience has told me it doesn't do any good. You just go anyway. Besides, you have to save Martha. If I was in your shoes, I'd do the exact same thing. So go on. Be the hero...idiot." Sam smiled.

The Doctor smiled back. He shook Sam's hand. "It was a pleasure working with you, Mister Tyler."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Oi, if I'm never gonna see you again, I get more than a bloody handshake." And he pulled the Doctor into a tight hug.

The Doctor wrapped his arms around Sam's back, bringing him as close as possible. "But do come home in one piece, Doctor," said Sam softly. "Please."

"I promise," murmured the Doctor. "I will find my way back to you, Sam Tyler. Always."

Sam pulled away and looked up at him. "Go on," he said, breathing shakily. "Time's a-wastin'."

The Doctor nodded, locked his helmet into place, and entered the airlock.

Impact in twelve fifty five.

When the Doctor got back into the ship, he was infected, but still self-aware. The sun was alive. It was angry, because the cargo ship's crew had illegally scooped out its core and used it for fuel. He fought the urge to open his eyes, to burn them all to dust.

"Doctor!" he heard Sam cry.

The fire inside him died down a bit. That's it, the Doctor told himself. Focus on his voice. Focus on Sam Tyler. I believe in Sam Tyler!

"You've got to freeze me, quickly," urged the Doctor.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Stasis chamber. You've got to take it below minus two hundred. Freeze it out of me! It'll use me to kill you if you don't. The closer we get to the sun, the stronger it gets! Med-center, quickly! Quickly!"

Sam, Martha, and McDonnell dragged the Time Lord to the stasis chamber. "You'll kill him!" McDonnell exclaimed as Sam hoisted him into the machine and Martha manned the controls. "No human can survive those temperatures!"

"He's not human! Trust me, he's survived a lot worse," said Sam, patting the Doctor's chest, clutching his hands. "Attaboy, mate, you're gonna be okay."

"Let me help you," said McDonnell to Martha.

Martha glared at her. "You've done enough damage, thanks."

"Martha, Martha, I-I've got to tell you something," gasped the Doctor. Oh, Rassilon, his body was on fire- "There's this process Time Lords go through, when they're about to die...Sam's seen me do it before, he can talk you through it-"

"Doctor, no, just shut up, you are not going to regenerate!" Sam shouted.

"Sam, I could, if I have to, I'm not going to let this thing take me over to kill all of you-"

"Doctor." The Time Lord felt blessedly cool lips press against his burning ones. Then again, he may have imagined it; the heat was probably giving him delirium. "I believe in you," Sam whispered. Then, he shouted: "Martha, now!"

Sam pulled away, and the Doctor felt the gurney slid back into the chamber. As the cold sensation began, the Doctor yowled in pain. It felt like his body was ablaze from two different fires, one hot, one freezing, and it was ripping him apart-

Then the Doctor saw white.

Doctor.

The Doctor opened his eyes.

It was blessedly cool. He was lying on the floor of his TARDIS, with a man with brown hair and hazel eyes standing over him. "Sam?" the Doctor said, sitting up.

Sam chuckled gently. "Not for some time, Doctor." There was something different about his voice. The Cockney in it had faded away, and it sounded clearer, more smooth. Then the Doctor realized he had not addressed him in English.

The Doctor gasped. "Did...did you just speak in Gallifreyan?"

"Yes, my love, I did," said Sam, in that strange, cool, clear voice. He was smiling down at the Doctor as if there were nothing more dear to him in all the cosmos.

The Doctor realized that Sam's hair was not a scruffy mop like it normally was, but well manicured and combed neatly. He had traded his jeans and hoodie for a black business suit as well. "What happened to you?" the Doctor asked him.

"Well, Doctor, as your sixth self would have said...'Change, my dear. And it seems not a moment too soon.' But none of that matters right now." Sam bent down and ran his hand through the Doctor's hair. The Doctor shut his eyes and leant into the caress. "You have to wake up, my love. There's still trouble out there, and you have to fix it," Sam whispered tenderly.

"No," said the Doctor stubbornly, clinging to Sam and hugging him close. "I want to stay here, with you."

"I know," said Sam, continuing to stroke his hair. "But you know this isn't real."

The Doctor choked. "I love you," he said.

"And I you. You'll see me again, very soon. I've missed you so much. But time is running out, Doctor. You must wake up now. You must-" Suddenly, the dreamscape was interrupted with a tremor, and the heat came flooding back.

The Doctor woke up, though he kept his eyes completely shut. It hadn't been enough time, he hadn't gotten cold enough. "No, you can't stop it, not yet!" he shouted.

"What's happened?" Martha said.

"Power's been cut in engineering!" the Doctor heard McDonnell say.

The Doctor began to yowl with pain as the heat inside him burned brighter, beating at him to get out.

Impact in four forty seven.

"Martha! Sam! Listen to me! I've only got a moment! You've got to go, now!"

"No way!"

"I'm not leaving you, mate!"

"Get to the front," the Doctor stuttered. "Vent the engines. Sun particles in the fuel, get rid of them."

"I am not leaving you!" Sam said stubbornly.

"Neither am I!" Martha added.

"You've got to! Give back what they took!" the Doctor persisted.

"Doctor!" shouted him companions.

"Please go!" yelled the Time Lord.

There was a moment of deliberation. "We'll be back for you," said Martha. "Come on, Sam!"

"No, Martha, I'm stayin' with him!"

"Sam, please, I won't be able to control myself for much longer! I can't lose you!"

"And I'm not leavin' you, you bloody idiot!"

The Doctor cried out in desperate frustration.

Impact in three forty three.

The Doctor groaned and rolled off of the table. "Doctor!"

"Sam, run away. Now!"

"No, Doctor, we'll get this out of you, I promise!"

The Doctor rolled around on the floor. "Doctor!" The Doctor felt Sam grab his shoulders. The Doctor snarled and knocked Sam off of him.

"Doctor, I know you can fight this. You're not going to leave me behind. It's you and me, always. Doctor, hear me!" Sam cupped his face in his hands.

Impact in two seventeen.

The Doctor was losing all his senses, all his thoughts, except one: keep your eyes closed. Keep Sam Tyler safe. But it was becoming increasingly impossible not to open his eyes.

"Sam! Don't look at me!"

"Doctor?" Sam backed away.

"I can't fight it! Give it back, or..." The Doctor's eyes opened. They were firey balls of light. "Burn with me."

Sam gasped and scooted farther away in horror.

"Burn with me, Sam," the Doctor hissed.

Sam ran from the room. The Doctor arose from the ground and began stalking after him.

Impact in one twenty one.

The Doctor pushed out of the medcenter and felt arms grab him from behind. Sam knocked him to the ground and pinned him. "Lucky for me," grunted Sam, "you're so skinny!"

Life support systems reaching critical. Repeat. Life support systems reaching critical.

"Doctor," groaned Sam, trying desperately to keep the Time Lord pinned to the floor. "This looks like the end...and I know you're not yourself right now...an' hell, I'll probably never even see the real you again...but I have to tell you..."

Collision alert. Collision alert.

"Being with you..." gasped Sam, thrusting against the Doctor to keep him down, "...it was the best. An' I never for one moment regretted it. From the very beginning, the moment you grabbed my hand in the basement of that department store...I knew something had clicked into place..."

Collision alert. Collision alert.

The Doctor roared and flipped over, on top of Sam. His eyes were clenched closed.

"I was meant to be with you, Doctor," said Sam, looking up into his face earnestly. "There's no one else in the universe for me...just you."

The Doctor screamed.

Sam gasped, a tear rolling down his cheek, and whispered: "I love you, Doctor."

Fuel dump in progress.

Suddenly, the Doctor wrenched and arched his back, facing the ceiling. He groaned loudly, the fire in his eyes dying out. They turned back to their normal brown, and the Doctor slumped over on top of Sam.

Sam chuckled with relief as he heard the engines come back online. He patted the Time Lord on top of him on the back. "That'll do, Doctor. That'll do."

The Doctor stirred and opened his eyes. They were gazing directly into Sam's. "Is it over?"

Sam laughed. "Yes. It's over." He impulsively stroked the Doctor's hair.

The Doctor smiled and leaned into the touch. "You should do that more often."

"Doctor! Sam! Oh, thank God!" Martha came running in. The men stood up and both hugged her. They all cried with relief.

Impact averted.

"This is never your ship," said Scannell in disbelief, staring at the TARDIS.

"Compact, eh?" said the Doctor, patting side her fondly. "And another good word, robust. Barely a scorch mark on her."

"We can't just leave you drifting with no fuel," said Martha, looking at the remaining crew members.

"We've sent out an official mayday," Riley reassured them. "The authorities'll pick us up soon enough."

"Though how we explain what happened..." Scannell whistled and shook his head, scarcely believing they'd made it. The Doctor had to agree.

"Just tell them," he said, "that sun needs care and protection just like any other living thing."

Sam shook hands with them. "Good luck, mates."

"And you," said Scannell.

"So, er," said Riley, grabbing Martha's hand. "You're off then. No chance I'll see you again?"

The Doctor looked at Sam. They shared a knowing smile.

Martha blushed and smiled politely. "Not really. It was nice...not dying with you." They laughed, then Martha said, "I reckon you'll find someone worth believing in."

Riley looked at her with puppy dog eyes. "I think I already did."

Martha looked regretful. Then, she quickly leaned in and kissed him. They pulled apart with an awkward suction noise. "Well done," swallowed Martha, blushing furiously in the red light. Then she added jokingly, as she climbed to the TARDIS, "Very hot."

Riley and Scannell laughed as the time travelers went inside their box. They closed the door behind them and dematerialized.

Sam elbowed Martha. "Sure you don't want to stay?"

Martha laughed shyly. "Very sure. So!" she said, looking at the Doctor. "Didn't really need you in the end, did we?"

The Doctor was looking somberly off into the distance. "Sorry," Martha apologized. "How are you doing?"

The Doctor held the trance for a minute, then looked her. "Now, what do you say?" he asked, evading the question. "Ice skating on the mineral lakes of Kur-haan. Fancy it?"

Martha shrugged. "Whatever you like."

"By the way..." The Doctor reached into his breastpocket and pulled out something. "...you'll be needing this." It was a TARDIS key.

Martha brightened. "Really?" she squealed happily.

"Frequent flier's privilege," said Sam, before the Doctor could.

The Doctor handed her the key. "Thank you," he said.

Martha accepted the key. "Don't mention it," she whispered. Then, suddenly, Martha gasped and began digging for her cell phone. "Oh, no! Mum."

As Martha stepped into the outside corridor to call her mother, Sam looked at the Doctor. "Really...are you alright?" He cautiously touched the Doctor's hand.

The Doctor smiled at him wearily. "I will be."

Sam nodded. Something seemed to be on his mind. "Er...Doctor...when you were...you know...all monster-y...do you recall...anything at all?"

The Doctor thought of his strange vision, of being in the TARDIS with Sam. Or, not-Sam. It was so confusing. Had it just been a fever dream? "No, nothing," said the Doctor. "Just...it was warm. Very...warm."

Sam exhaled. "That's good."

"Why?" the Doctor asked him.

Sam shrugged. "Oh...no reason."

The Doctor hummed nonchalantly and set the coordinates, sailing them into time and space.

Chapter 51: Time Lord Rising, Volume 11

Notes:

Based on "Human Nature" by Paul Cornell; original air date: May 26, 2007. (1/2)
Happy Doctor Who day!

Chapter Text

From John Smith's Journal Of Impossible Things...

10 November 1913

Chilly today. Worrying about catching that case of the sniffles that's going around, so I've asked Martha to up the amount of citrus in my diet. Had another funny dream last night. About HIM. About the Doctor. Martha was in it too, she and I traveled together. And the new English instructor, Tyler, was there too. Something was chasing us, hunting us down. Something wanted me dead. And there was a watch in the dream too. It was very important for some reason, but the strange thing is, I know I've seen that watch somewhere. The whole thing is dodgy, to be honest. Oh, here comes Martha with breakfast.

John put down his quill and looked up as the dark skinned maid came in carrying a tray. Martha looked at him and turned back toward the door. "Pardon me, Mister Smith, you're not dressed yet, I can come back later-"

"No, s'alright, s'alright, put it down." John shrugged on his dressing gown. Martha kept her eyes averted out of respect. "I was...just writing some stuff down. Stuff I was dreaming about...sorry, sorry. Sometimes I have these extraordinary dreams."

Martha bustled about the room, opening the curtains to let in the morning sunlight. "What about, sir?"

"I dream I'm this..." John struggled for the right word. "Adventurer. This daredevil, a madman. 'The Doctor', I'm called. And last night, I dreamt that you were there as well, and Sam, well, Mister Tyler, the English teacher. You were my...companion."

"And what was Mister Tyler, sir?" Martha asked.

John blushed.

"Get down!" cried the Doctor. He, Martha, and Sam ran into the TARDIS, diving onto the floor to dodge a green laser, that blasted the console. Luckily, his ship was unharmed.

The Doctor managed to get the door shut. "Did they see you? This is important, did they see you?"

"No, mate, we were too busy running away," said Sam, dusting off his jeans.

"Then off we go!" The Doctor started the TARDIS in motion.

Sam came over to the Doctor and touched his shoulder. "Who are they, Doctor?"

The Doctor felt the familiar thrum of his hearts as the man touched him. "I don't know, Sam. But whoever they are, they're dangerous. And...argh, they're following us!" he added, checking the monitor.

"How is that possible?" Martha asked, running around to his other side. "You've got a time machine."

"Stolen technology. They've got a Time Agent's vortex manipulator. They can follow us wherever we go, right across the universe." The Doctor clenched his hair in frustration. "They're never going to stop, unless...I'll have to do it."

"Do what?" Sam asked.

The Doctor turned to his companion. "Sam, do you trust me?"

"Of course," said the man, shaking his head in confusion.

"Martha, do you trust me?" the Doctor asked, looking at his other companion.

"Yes."

"Good. Because it depends on you. Both of you."

"What does?" Sam said.

The Doctor faced him. "Sam. I need you to help me."

"Anything, Doctor."

The Doctor pulled an old watch, decorated with spirographs, out of his pocket. "Take this watch, because my life depends on it. This watch is-"

That was when John had woken up. "He...he was my companion too," he nervously answered Martha.

Martha smiled. "Two schoolteachers and a maid? That's impossible."

"I was a man from another world though," said John.

"Well then it can't be true," said Martha, sugaring his tea, "because there's no such thing."

"Suppose you're right," sighed John. "Now, if you'll pardon me, Martha, I have to get dressed."

John had just finished all his morning classes, and was coming out of his classroom, arms stacked high with books. From the lower level, John heard a familiar voice call out, "'Lo, Smith!"

John tripped in surprise, his books scattering all over the floor.. "Oh, let me help you!" said a feminine voice.

John looked up. It was Nurse Redfern. "Ah. Matron," he said, nodding.

The nurse smiled at him politely. John felt his cheeks heat up.

"Smith!" John heard the first voice call out behind him, as a man's footsteps came up behind him. "Sorry about that, didn't mean to surprise you." The man bent down to also help him with his books, smiling warmly.

"Oh, erm, no harm done, Tyler, none at all. Thanks." John took his books from the English teacher gratefully. "So, Matron, how was Jenkins?"

"Oh, just a cold, nothing serious. I think he's missing his mother more than anything."

"Smith, I was just wondering if I could talk with you about lesson plans."

"Huh? What?" John looked at Tyler. "Oh, yeah, sure, maybe later." He turned back to Nurse Redfern. "Well, we can't have that. About Jenkins, I mean, missing his mother."

"He received a letter this morning, so he's a lot more chipper. Do you need some help with those?" the nurse asked, pointing to the books in John's arms.

"No, no, that's alright," John said.

"Do you want to split them?" Nurse Redfern asked.

"Well, ah...yes, actually, that would help a great deal, thank you," said John, handing off some of his books to the nurse. "Brilliant, brilliant, division of labor."

"We make quite a team," joked the nurse.

"Don't we just." John smiled.

"Here, Smith, I'll help too-"

"That's okay, Tyler, Nurse Redfern and I have it, thank you," said John, jerking away from the English teacher. "Didn't you say you have...lesson plans to do or something?"

Sam sighed as "John" walked away with the nurse. "Yeah. Suppose I do."

Martha came up behind him. "Alright, Mister Tyler?"

"It's just us, Martha, you can call me Sam."

"Sorry," said Martha. Then she added, in a whisper, "about him, I mean. The Doctor. He's not himself right now, you know. Otherwise you two would be palling around like you always do."

"Yeah. Seems Johnny Boy has himself a new 'pal'," said Sam morosely, watching John and the nurse standing on a landing together, looking at some sort of bulletin together.

"I hate this place as much as you," said Martha. "The boys-they're just awful."

"What did they say?" Sam asked her, turning around to face her.

Martha shook her head. "Nothing I haven't heard before."

"Martha, just tell me who it was. I'm a teacher, you know, I can dole out some discipline for you."

"No, you can't. If I tell you who it was, they'll know I snitched. They'll make it even worse. I'm fine, really I am."

"Was it that little canker Hutchinson? Or Baines? Oh, I just bet it was. I had to deal with boys like him all throughout public school, boys who picked on me for being poor, for being a foster kid. They never change, no matter what century it is. The next time I see him-" Sam's threat was cut off by the sound of a loud thump and papers rustling.

Sam and Martha looked over the banister. John had fallen down the stairs. "Oh my God!" Martha exclaimed.

"Come on!" said Sam, grabbing her hand and pulling her along.

They burst into John's room where the nurse was bandaging up John's head. "Is he okay?" Sam exclaimed.

"Tyler, what are you doing in here? And Martha, you know better than come in without knocking," John scolded.

Martha rolled her eyes. "Right." She pranced over to the door and rapped her knuckles against the wood of it mockingly. "Better?"

"We saw you fall down the stairs, mate, are you okay?" Sam asked.

"Really, it was just a tumble. I don't understand why you're getting so upset," said John puzzledly. "It's not really your concern."

"Yeah," said Sam, deflating slightly. "S'pose not."

John cleared his throat. "Actually, I was just telling Nurse Redfern-I mean, Matron-about my dreams."

"What dreams?" Sam asked, looking at Martha.

"Well, um...I keep imagining that I'm someone else, and I'm hiding."

"Hiding? In what way?" Nurse Redfern asked.

"Er...almost every night...this is going to sound silly," John flushed.

"Go on," said Sam. "Tell us."

"I dream quite often...that I have two hearts," said John.

"Well, I can be the judge of that. Let's find out." Nurse Redfern took out her stethoscope and listened to John's chest with it.

Sam's fists clenched.

Nurse Redfern smiled at John. "I can confirm the diagnosis. Just one heart. Singular."

Sam looked at Martha. "Oh. Interesting. And uh...it's just you in these dreams?"

"No, no, actually, there are others...well, I sort of sketched them, here, in my journal. It's all there, written down. Not that it would be of any interest."

"I'd be very interested," said Nurse Redfern.

"Oh?" John blushed. He pulled the diary out of his pocket. "Well...I've never actually shown it to anyone."

"Can I see?" Sam came over and looked over John's shoulder as he displayed the diary to him and Nurse Redfern.

"Just look at all those creatures," said Nurse Redfern, touching a picture of a Dalek. "Such imagination."

Sam suddenly imagined Nurse Redfern getting shot by a Dalek.

"Mister Tyler, look. You're in the story as well," said Nurse Redfern, surprisedly. "And Martha too."

Sam looked at John in fake surprise. "Really? Hmm. Wonder why."

John cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Oh, I dunno. Suppose it's the proximity to our arrivals. You showed up to Farringham right after I did."

"Yeah," said Sam, nodding. "I guess that's it...well. I have...erm...lesson plans to do. If you're alright, I'll just...leave you to it, then." And he bowed out.

Sam heard Martha's footsteps following him. "Sam, don't be sad, I...I think he really does remember his...relationship with you. He just doesn't want to admit it. Look, this is a different time. People have been practically spitting on me because I'm black, and they would have thrown homosexuals in jail...or worse. I'm sure it's nothing personal, he's just trying to repress it."

"Yeah, and meanwhile, his precious little matron is doing her best to help him at it," Sam grumbled. "Look, it's fine, I get it. Soon, hopefully, it'll be safe for him and he can open the watch and we can all just forget this horrible place."

The next morning, Sam found a note in his breakfast napkin from Martha. Strange light in the woods last night. I'm a little worried. Going to the "shed". Ta. -Martha

Sam dressed and went downstairs, thinking he'd head down there too. This whole Matron thing was starting to worry him. On the stairs, he passed Baines. "Oi, you. Master Baines. I want to have a word-"

Baines turned slowly to look at him. There was a strange look in his eye. He gave a great sniff, stared a moment more, then turned away and continued up the stairs.

Sam watched him go. "Odd." He turned around and found himself nose to nose with the Doctor. "Smith! Oh, good morning. How are you?"

"Fine," said John dismissively, trying get by him.

"Um, Smith, I wanted to talk you-"

"Well make it fast, I have a class this morning and of course Martha's disappeared to Lord knows where-"

"Well, it's about, er...that story you wrote, about the dreams you've been having."

"Yes, yes, what about them?"

"Well...what do you remember? I mean, what did you dream about? About me?"

John sighed. "I just...travel, and you're there with me. That's all."

"But like..." Sam had grabbed John's hand. "Is there anything...significant about us?"

"Like what?" John snapped, trying to tug away.

"Well, like...are we...close?"

John stopped. "I don't know. We're just friends, alright?"

Sam's heart throbbed. "Just friends?"

"Yes, just friends! Now I gotta go!" John managed to pull away and hurried up the stairs.

Sam stood there a moment, feeling dejected.

Martha had just gotten out of the shower in the 'shed', or rather, the TARDIS, which was hidden safely away in a little stone dugout in the woods. She may have been stuck in 1913, but that didn't mean she had to surrender her right to hot showers with strong water pressure.

She had redressed and was squeezing the water out of her hair when she passed by a room with an open door. She looked in. It was a bedroom, with some books sitting beside a comfy armchair and an ornate reading lamp. On the bed was a black hoodie. Martha smiled. It must be Sam's room.

She spotted something laying on the nightstand, shining slightly in the warm lamplight. She strode into the room and picked it up.

It was a pocketwatch. Martha put it to her ear, but it was broken. She tried to open it, but it was stuck fast. But what scared Martha were the circular carvings on the outside.

"This watch is me," the Doctor told them urgently.

"What?" said Sam and Martha together.

"Those creatures are hunters. They can sniff anyone out, and me being a Time Lord, well...I'm unique. They can track me down through all of time and space."

"So what do we do?" Sam said.

"They can smell me, they haven't seen me," said the Doctor. "And their lifespan will be running out, so we hide. Wait for them to die."

"But they can track us down," Martha pointed out.

"That's why I've got to do it," said the Doctor. "I have to stop being a Time Lord. I'm going to become human."

"Human?" said Sam. "How?"

The Doctor typed in some codes on the TARDIS's mainframe. A futuristic headset came down from the ceiling of the TARDIS. "Never thought I'd use this," the Doctor said, watching it descend. "All the times I've wondered..."

"What does it do?" asked Martha.

"Chameleon Arch. Rewrites my biology. Literally changes every single cell in my body. I've set it to human." The Doctor plugged the watch into the headset. "Now, the TARDIS will take care of everything. Invent a life story for me, find me a setting and integrate me. Can't do the same for you two. You'll just have to improvise. I should have just enough residual awareness to let you in."

"But, hold on," Sam piped up. "If you're going to rewrite every single cell, isn't it going to hurt?"

The Doctor looked at him. "Oh, yeah. It hurts."

Sam surged forward and hugged him tightly. Then he pulled away. The Doctor nodded and strapped on the headset. Sam and Martha closed their eyes as the Time Lord screamed.

The watch looked exactly like the Doctor's.

Martha, in wonder, turned the watch over. There was a cursive, capital K etched into the brass. Martha reached into her pocket and pulled out the Doctor's watch, which held his true persona inside, and looked at it. It had a letter T on it. Except for the letters, the watches were identical.

"Martha?"

Martha gasped and nearly dropped the watches. She put the Doctor's watch back into the pocket of her apron. Then, she put Sam's watch in her jeans, which she was wearing under her dress. "Coming, Sam!" She dashed from the room.

Sam, in his period appropriate black slacks and shoes, white shirt with incredibly puffy sleeves, floppy black bowtie, and dark red waist coat, was standing in the console room, looking over the controls. "Martha, I need to see that video message the Doctor left again."

"Oh, sure." Martha pulled the screen around in front of him and tried not to act guilty. "I was actually just about watch it again myself."

"Oh yeah. The...light in the woods thing," said Sam. "I'm sure it's nothing. No need to worry, Martha."

Martha didn't look so sure. "I just don't know. I got a bad feeling."

The Doctor face appeared on the scanner. "This working? Sam, Martha, before I change, here's a list of instructions for when I'm human. One, don't let me hurt anyone. We can't have that, but you know what humans are like. Two, don't worry about the TARDIS. I'll put it on emergency power so they can't detect it. Just let it hide away. Four-no, wait a minute. Three. No getting involved in big historical events. Four...you two. Don't lose each other. And don't let me abandon you."

Sam mentally scoffed. Too late for that, mate.

Martha frustratedly fast forwarded through. "There must be something here!"

"And twenty three. If anything goes wrong, if they find us, then you know what to do. Open the watch. Everything I am is kept safe in there. Now, I've put a perception filter on it so the human me won't think anything of it. To him, it's just a watch. But don't open it unless you have to. Because once it's open, then the Family will be able to find me. It's all down to you. Your choice. Oh, and..." The Doctor smiled nervously. "Thank you."

Martha pulled the watch out of her pocket. She and Sam looked at it worryingly. "I just don't know what to do," sighed Martha. "I wish he'd come back."

"So do I, Pidge," said Sam, wrapping his arm around her shoulder in a brotherly fashion. "I miss that big dopey grin more than anything. But really, I'm sure it's fine. We just have to make it through one more month. We can do it."

Martha looked up Sam and nodded. "Yeah. You're probably right. I better go. I'm sure they're looking for me, and it'd be pretty bad if I got fired, eh?" She laughed, although it didn't sound like she thought it was so funny. "Well...see ya." She headed out the door.

Sam sighed once she was gone. "What are we going to do?"

Suddenly, the scanner flipped back on. "Sam?" The Doctor's face reappeared on the screen. Sam looked up in surprise.

"If the TARDIS is showing this, it means you're in the ship by yourself. That's good, because there's something I need to say to you, and it's very important."

Sam moved his face closer to the screen.

The Doctor sighed and rubbed his face. "I...I'm not really sure how to say this. If we had more time, I could tell you this in person. I probably should tell you in person, but...for now, let's just say...look, traveling with you has been...wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. And I...you mean so much more to me than you can possibly know. I owe you so much. If I..." The Doctor exhaled. "If I don't make it out of this alive, the TARDIS is yours. Take yourself and Martha home. Live your life. Forget about me." The Doctor smiled ruefully. "Just give me a little thought now and then, eh?...Stay brilliant, Sam Tyler."

The screen flickered off.

Sam growled in frustration and smacked the side of the screen. The TARDIS groaned at him in protest, but he didn't care. "That doesn't tell me anything, old man! Urgh! Time Lords."

Joan blushed as she looked at the portrait John had sketched of her. "Oh goodness," she said, happily flustered. "Do I look like that? You sure that's not me?" she added, laughing, pointing to a space monster John had scrawled on the opposite page, of a 'Slitheen', as his dream had called it.

"Most definitely this page," John laughed, tapping the lovely woman on the right side. "Do you like it?"

"You've made me far too beautiful," said Joan.

John smiled. "Well that's how I see you."

Joan turned her eyes downward shyly. "Widows aren't supposed to be beautiful," she said quietly. "I think the world would rather we stopped." She looked up at him, gazing deep into his eyes. "Is it fair?" she asked him. "That we stop?"

John's heart (his one, singular heart) thumped like mad in his chest. "That's not fair at all," he murmured. He reached out and touched her soft blonde hair, then cupped her cheek and gently kissed her.

Suddenly, as their lips met, a vision overtook his mind's eye. It was...of Sam Tyler, the English teacher. John was lying on his back, in some kind of machine, in a bright orange space suit, his eyes clenched shut, with Sam leaning over him, softly kissing his lips for comfort. John was excitedly kissing Sam's forehead in the middle of a dark, hot spacecraft, after Sam had solved a complicated math problem. John was standing in a park in New York City with Sam, kissing him on the cheek. John was sitting on the floor of the Doctor's ship, the TARDIS, with Sam cupping his face, kissing him urgently. John and Sam were together in a street in London, after the torch lighting of the 2012 Olympics, and John was kissing the top of Sam's head. Sam was kissing John passionately in the corridor of a futuristic hospital. John had a different face and was gently kissing Sam, absorbing the golden yellow energy from the TARDIS.

Then, they heard footsteps and John quickly pulled away from Joan, unable to explain any of what he'd just seen.

"John! I need to speak with you-" Sam came running into John's quarters, where to his horror, he found the skinny man in a deep kiss with Nurse Redfern.

"Tyler, what the hell are you doing in here?!" John roared.

Sam was at a loss for words. "I...er..."

"Just...get out!" John ordered, rubbing the bridge of his thin nose in frustration, pointing to the door with a bony finger.

Blinking back tears, Sam hurried out of the room. He shut the door behind him and leaned his back against it. "That wasn't on the list," he whispered to himself.

Chapter 52: Time Lord Rising, Volume 12

Notes:

Based on "Human Nature" by Paul Cornell; original air date: May 26, 2007. (2/2)

Chapter Text

From John Smith's Journal Of Impossible Things...

11 November 1913

The big dance is tonight, and I actually worked up the nerve to ask Joan. She said yes. Ah, sweet success. We actually shared a kiss as well, which would have been absolutely perfect if that blasted Sam Tyler hadn't burst in on us. He looked at me as if I'd kicked a puppy. Do you suppose he fancies Joan as well? I can't imagine, but perhaps that's why he keeps sabotaging us.

Speaking of Sam-and the kiss-something very impossible happened. As soon as Joan's lips met mine, I had a flash of something. It was like my dreams, except it was during the daytime. It was a quick montage. It was of Sam. And me, well, "the Doctor". And the thing was...we-they-were kissing. Two blokes, kissing! After that I had to go and pull out my Bible and read Leviticus to myself again. I would say that it meant nothing, but usually my dreams happen at night, when I'm sleeping. This one struck me during the day-while I was kissing Nurse Redfern, no less!

What does it all mean? Why should I be imagining kissing some bloke I hardly know when I already have a lovely woman who fancies me? (Yet for some reason I have this feeling I have known him for eons...)

Hopefully, I'll be able to put it all behind me tonight at the dance. I don't think Tyler will be showing up. It will just be Joan and me tonight.

Wish me luck.

"He had to go and fall in love with a human..." Sam said, blinking tears from his eyes. "And it wasn't...it wasn't-oh God, Martha, why does it hurt so Goddamn much?"

"I'm sorry, Sam. Really, I am," said Martha, rubbing his back.

Sam shook his head. Then he asked, "Martha? Do you have the watch?"

Martha's heart started beating hard. "W-what watch?" she asked.

"What do you mean, what watch?" said Sam. "The Doctor's watch, of course."

"Oh. Right." Martha discreetly sighed with relief as she brought out the fobwatch, marked with a T, and handed it to Sam. "Why do you want it?"

"Because I'm gonna keep it from the Doctor. I mean...John Smith," said Sam.

"What are you talking about?" Martha asked.

"Look, the Doc-John-is obviously happy as he is, with Joan. So, unless there's an absolute emergency...he's gonna stay like that."

"Like what?"

Sam licked his lips. "Human."

"What? You mean...forever?" Martha said with a gasp. "But what about...what about the TARDIS, what about us?"

Sam shrugged. "We'll leave. We'll go away. The TARDIS has an emergency protocol that's programmed to take its passengers back to their own time and place. You'll be able to get home, back to your family."

"And you? What will you do without him?" Martha said, jerking Sam's arm. "Look, the Doctor wouldn't want you to do this. He'd want to know who he really was. He'd want you."

"Well, I thought that, but clearly, I'm a poor judge of feelings," Sam laughed bitterly. "Maybe the Doctor did...have feelings for me, once. But either he's forgotten about them or I screwed it all up waiting too long to tell him how I really feel. Either way...he has someone else now. I'm letting him go."

"How do I look?" asked Joan, modeling her evening gown.

"You look wonderful," said John, smiling.

Joan blushed happily. "You'd best give me some warning: can you actually dance?"

John thought for a second.

"Alright. Impress me."

"Huh?" The Doctor turned around, slightly taken aback.

Sam shrugged and held out a hand. "You said you got the moves. So show me your moves." He grinned a little, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"Sam, I'm…I'm trying to resonate concrete," said the Doctor, uncomfortably.

"Come on," prodded Sam. "The world doesn't end 'cause the Doctor dances.

After a moment's hesitation, the Doctor swaggered down off the ledge and took Sam's outstretched hand, then, surprising the both of them, pulled Sam in close. He heard Sam gulp slightly.

The Doctor smiled and they started to sway to the music. "Not bad," admitted Sam. "Though I will admit, Captain Jack could probably teach you a thing or two."

"What, like this?" The Doctor suddenly dipped the man tango style, and held him there. "And he's 'Captain Jack' now, is he?" he breathed seductively.

"Well…" Sam was trying to get his breathing under control, still clutching him firmly. "His name's Jack. He's a captain. It's very…Pirates Of The Caribbean, isn't it?"

"Yes, but he's not really a captain, is he, Sam?" said the Doctor, pulling Sam upright again and heard him give a faint sigh of relief.

"Maybe you're just jealous," muttered Sam.

"I personally think 'Doctor' sounds more impressive than 'Captain'. More original. More mysterious."

"It's definitely unusual, I'll give you that," smirked Sam. That earned him an impromptu spin around. Sam, unprepared for it, stumbled into the Doctor, hands splayed on the man's chest.

Sam slowly looked up at the Doctor, cheeks red as roses. Their faces were extremely close...

John shook his head. "I'm...not sure," he muttered.

"There's a surprise," chuckled Joan. "Is there anything you're certain about?"

No. Not anymore. "Yes," answered John, smiling reassuringly and taking her hands. "Yes."

The sun was going down. Everyone, including John and Joan, was getting ready to head to the village dance. Except Sam, that was. He was standing in the garden, by himself, brooding. He took the Doctor's watch out of his pocket and looked at it.

Suddenly he heard clattering footsteps. Martha whizzed out of the school building and grabbed his hands. "Sam, run!"

"Why, what is it?" Sam said, following her.

"They've found us!"

Sam's blood ran cold. "Who?!"

PSHOO! A blast of green light shot at them from a second story window. Sam looked back over his shoulder and saw one of the other maids, Jenny, armed with a gun that certainly did not belong in Edwardian England. "Oh, God! The Doctor!" Sam exclaimed, running after Martha.

A minute later, Sam and Martha burst into John Smith's quarters. "They've found us!" gasped Martha.

"This is ridiculous," admonished Joan.

"You two. What is it with you two, thinking you can burst in here without knocking?" John fumed.

"They've found us and I've seen them, they look like us, like people," babbled Martha.

"It's true, I've seen it!" Sam added.

"Sam. give him the watch," said Martha, looking at her fellow companion.

Sam reached into his pocket...but it was gone. "Oh no."

Martha's eyes widened. "What do you mean, oh no?"

"I...it must've bounced out when we were running!" Sam said, his hands flying to his shaggy hair distressedly.

"What?!" Martha screeched.

"I'm sorry!" Sam exclaimed.

"That's okay, we'll just go back and find it-"

"What are you talking about, a watch?" John asked.

"You had this watch, a fobwatch, I had it, but I gave it to him-"

"You mean, you stole my property?!" John accused.

"No, no, you don't understand, you left it to us for safe-keeping, in case-"

"I remember doing no such thing. You must be lying," said John.

"Oh, God, Doctor, look, we're hiding from aliens, and they've got Jenny, and they've possessed her or copied her or something-"

"Martha, feigning insanity does not excuse your thievery! Now, I'm very sorry, but you are fired."

Martha's mouth fell open. "What?!"

"Yes, I'm sorry, but you're fired. I order you to leave these premises at once! As for you, Mister Tyler, I demand that you leave Matron alone. I can understand if you carry a torch for her, very understandable, she's very lovely, after all, but as she has made no indication that she reciprocates your feelings, I must insist that you stay away from her."

Sam's jaw dropped open. "What? You think I-that she-you...are such...a wanker sometimes!" Sam's fingers balled into a fist, and he punched the Doctor in the face.

"Oh my!" gasped Joan, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Sam!" Martha exclaimed, shocked.

"Oh, so that's how it is, eh?" said John, getting back up, rubbing his sore cheek. "Alright, Tyler, you asked for it." He balled up his fists and assumed a boxing position, hopping from foot to foot. "You and me, a gentleman's duel. Tomorrow, at noon, in the courtyard. You choose the weapon. The winner receives the Matron's affections."

"Doctor, I do not want to fight you," said Sam disgustedly. "You want to hit me back, fine, go ahead, I don't-ow!" Sam fell to the floor as John's fist connected with his jaw.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that, Matron," John was apologizing to Nurse Redfern. "I'm not normally such a violent brute, I swear, but if it means defending your honor, I'll fight anyone I have to."

Sam looked up at Martha, rubbing his sore jaw. "He has got such bony knuckles."

"Alright, Tyler. Do you concede, then?" John said, tensing for another attack.

Sam glowered at him. "You are such an IDIOT! Don't you understand, we came here to warn you that-"

"Matron and I are not really interested in what you have to say," said John, taking the nurse's arm. "Come on, Joan. We'll be late for the dance. The two of you had better be gone when I return, or I'll call for a constable!"

"Your life's a lie!" Sam yelled at their retreating backs. "You're not a schoolteacher. You're not even human! You're a homosexual alien from outer space!"

"Come on, Sam," said Martha, urging him to his feet. "We've got to get to that party. We've got to protect the Doctor!"

"Oh, staff entrance, I think, miss!" the man at the door of the hall said as Sam and Martha approached.

"Yeah, well, think again, mate," said Martha dismissively, as they breezed by him.

"Okay, here's the plan," said Sam. "I'll secure the perimeter, sniff around for any predators. You go and find the Doctor, since he doesn't currently want to clock you in the face."

"No, just arrest me for stealing," said Martha flatly. "Fine. See you in a tick."

They parted ways. Sam nosed around the building, but found nothing. So he entered the dance hall, where he saw Martha standing with the Doctor and Joan. Martha was showing the Doctor his sonic screwdriver, trying to jog his memory.

"...the man from your journal," Martha was saying. "He's real. He's you."

"She's right, mate," said Sam, coming up beside her. "You should listen to her."

John's brown eyes flicked back and forth between his two former companions, till realization dawned on his face. "Ahh...I understand now."

"Praise Omega!" said Sam, relieved.

"It's her you fancy, not Matron," John continued.

"What?" said Sam and Martha together.

"Oh, Tyler, I'm sorry, really I am. No hard feelings?" John offered, holding out his hand to shake.

"THERE WILL BE SILENCE! ALL OF YOU!" yelled a voice. Everyone's head turned to look at the party who had entered. It was Baines, Jenny, and a portly man named Mr. Clark.

"It's them," said Sam.

"Right good perimeter sniffer you are," Martha muttered.

"Mr. Clark, what's going on?" said the master of ceremonies, aghast.

Mr. Clark pulled out a gun and fired on the emcee, exploding him into green dust. The partygoers screamed.

"Mister Smith? Everything we told you, just forget it!" Martha said to the Doctor. "Don't say anything."

"We asked for SILENCE!" bellowed Baines. "Now then. We have a few questions for Mister Smith." His round, eerie eyes bore into the Doctor.

"No, better than that," said a tinkering little voice, as a little girl wearing a pink bow in her hair and clutching the string of a red balloon in her fingers, came out from the corner to join the other ominous three. "The teacher. He's the Doctor. I heard them talking."

Baines smirked at the Doctor. "You took human form," he cooed.

"Of course I'm human. I was born human, as were you, Baines," insisted John, perplexed. "And Jenny, and you, Mister Clark. What is going on? This is madness."

"Ooo, and a human brain, too. Simple, thick and dull," laughed Baines.

"But he's no good like this," Jenny mentioned.

"We need...a Time Lord," Mr. Clark growled.

One two three four. One two three four. The very mention of the title had the drums tapping in Sam's mind again.

Baines scoffed. "Easily done. He stepped forward and raised his alienistic gun. "Change back," he ordered.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said John.

"Change back!" Baines roared.

"I-I literally do not know!" John exclaimed, panicking.

Suddenly, Sam yelped as Mr. Clark grabbed him from behind and put his gun to his head. "Get off me!" he yelled.

"He's your friend, isn't he? Doesn't this scare you enough to change back?" said Mr. Clark.

"I don't know what you mean! Please, just let him go!" John exclaimed.

"Mm, just smell the pheromones coming off the two of them," said Jenny, sniffing hard. "I think that one's more than just a friend, wouldn't you agree?"

"No, you've got it all wrong! I hardly know Smith! Killing me will achieve nothing! There's nothing out of the ordinary here, just leave, please!" Sam shouted.

"Wait a minute," said Jenny. She pointed at Martha. "The maid told me about Smith and the Matron. That woman, there." She indicated Nurse Redfern.

"Then let's have you." Clark gestured for Jenny to grab the nurse, which she did, and copied her partner in threatening Joan with a gun.

"Have you enjoyed it, Doctor?" mocked Baines. "Being human? Has it taught you wonderful things? Are you better, richer, wiser? Then let's see you answer this: which one of them do you want us to kill? Your faithful companion, who's stuck by your side for so long, or your new love, who's made you completely forget about him?" He sneered at the confused would-be-schoolteacher, who was looking from Sam to Joan in a panic. "Your choice," Baines hissed.

Chapter 53: Time Lord Rising, Volume 13

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Family Of Blood" by Paul Cornell, original air date: June 2, 2007 (1/2).

Chapter Text

"Make your decision, 'Mr. Smith'," mocked Jenny, jabbing her gun insistently at Joan.

John's brown pupils flicked back and forth, from Sam to Joan, all around the room, looking for a way out of this.

"Perhaps if that human heart breaks, the Time Lord will emerge," Baines sneered liltingly.

God, I wish I hadn't dropped that watch! Stupid, foolish human! Sam scolded himself.

Suddenly, the Family turned their heads, sniffing hard, and Sam heard a deep voice in his head echo "Time Lord..."

"It's him!" hissed Baines. Then, the commotion stopped as abruptly as it had started.

Sam dove at the opportunity while his assailant was distracted, twisted and maneuvered till it was him that had Mr. Clark, and aimed his laser gun at Baines. "Alright!" he called. "One more move and I shoot!"

"Oh, the English teacher is full of fire!" Baines cackled.

"That's right! And you can shut the hell up, mate!" Sam fired at the ceiling, with a loud BLLLLRG.

"Careful, Son of mine," Mr. Clark warned calmly, still twisted in Sam's grasp. "This is all for you, so you can live forever."

"Shoot you down!" Baines called out, aiming his own weapon at Sam, who stayed stoic.

"Try it," Sam goaded. "We'll die together."

Baines laughed at him softly. "Would you really pull the trigger? Looks too scared."

"I'm not the Doctor," said Sam. "Not even close. I'll kill you without a second thought. So..." He brandished the gun. "Do you want to risk it?"

Sensing the truth in Sam's words, the Family slowly put their guns down. Joan rushed to John's side. "Good. Very good," said Sam. "Martha? You and Mister Smith get everyone out of here."

"But...Sam..." John was staring at Sam as if really seeing him for the first time.

"I'll be fine, John, just go! Get your lady friend to safety," Sam ordered.

"Listen to him, all of you, get outside, now!" Joan said, grabbing John's hand and rushing the queue out of the building.

Sam, never taking his eyes off of the invaders for a moment, listened intently for the last sounds of screams and clattering footsteps running out into the village. Mr. Clark wriggled out of Sam's grasp and scuttled over to his Family, but Sam yelled out, "Don't try anything. I'm warning you, or sonny boy gets it," he added, aiming straight at Baines.

Baines merely sneered. "He's almost brave, this one." The Family began advancing on Sam, who backed up, still holding the gun.

"I should have taken his form," commented Mr. Clark. "So much younger, so much spirit."

Sam swallowed as the aliens pressed closer and closer. "What happened to these humans?" he demanded. "Are they gone?"

"They are consumed," answered Jenny. "Their bodies are ours."

"You mean they're dead," said Sam.

"Yes," said Baines, sneering. "And they went with precious little dignity. You humans, all that cowardice, all that screaming."

Suddenly, something grabbed Sam from behind. "Get the gun!" shrieked Baines.

The thing wrestled the gun from Sam's hands. Not waiting around to see what it was, Sam raced out of the hall, not looking back.

As Sam hurtled out the door, he spied John Smith standing dumbly at the end of the walk. "What the hell are you still doing here?!" he shouted at the Time Lord-turned-human as he ran in his direction. "Bloody hell, you're useless as a human. Come on!" Sam grabbed the ex-Doctor's hand and pulled him away with him.

"Sam-" gasped John, struggling to continue sprinting-as a human he had no respiratory bypass, so he was in need of extra oxygen. Meanwhile, Sam was conditioned for long term getaways due to his renegade life with the Doctor. "Sam...those people! Well, I mean, they weren't people! Not normal ones, anyway! What in the name of sanity is going on?"

"You should've listened to Martha and me, Doctor," said Sam. "Your dreams, about things being after you-those are the things! They're real, and we're all in great danger! Especially you!"

"Even if I believed that...even if it were true...why do you want so badly to help me?" John asked. "And why are you in my dreams? And why is it that when I kiss Nurse Redfern, all I can feel is...is..."

Sam stopped. He slowly turned around to look at the would-be-schoolteacher. The night around them was quiet except the lulled chirping of crickets in the woods and their combined panting as they respectively caught their breath. They had lost the Family, apparently. "What?"

John stared back at him, fearfully, hunched over slightly, nursing a stitch in his side from the mad dashing.

"Tell me what you feel, John Smith," said Sam, stepping toward him, to where there was only two or three inches between them.

John cast his eyes downward. "It's wrong. It's a sin, Tyler, I-"

"Say my name," whispered Sam, putting a finger under the Doctor's chin, making him look him in the eyes.

John licked his lips. His voice was barely above his breath, but Sam heard it.

"Sam."

Sam closed his eyes. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to John's, slightly shocked at first at the difference. The Doctor's alien lips were usually cool, but John's were human and warm. He smelled the same, like honey, and time, but that wonderful spark of electricity, of light, of life, wasn't there. It wasn't the Doctor. But it was enough.

John made a noise in the back of his throat, of confusion and self-loathing and contentment and desperation, all at the same time. Sam deepened the kiss, sliding his hand up John's coat and into his hair, anachronistically spiked up with gel. Sam felt John's muscles untense, as he reciprocated the kiss, bringing his arms to hang on Sam's waist and cup his back. Then Sam pulled away.

"Why am I feeling all these things?" John asked, his puppy eyes crinkled with sadness. "I hardly know you. And you're a...a man."

"I know that from your point of view, it doesn't make any sense," said Sam, unable to resist from petting his Time Lord's soft brown hair. "But soon-hopefully-you'll understand everything that's going on."

"How do you know that?" whispered John desperately. Then he straightened. "This has to do with the Doctor. The Time Lord. They kept calling me that. How could they know about my dreams?"

Sam exhaled. "I can't explain it at the moment. Your little human brain can't even imagine it right now. But just know that...the Doctor. He's real. And..." Sam took in a hiccupy breath. "I love him. He's...he's like a force of nature. He's like fire and ice and rage. He's like the night and the storm at the heart of the sun. He's ancient and forever. He burns at the center of time and he sees the turn of the universe..." Sam smiled ruefully. "And he's wonderful. And I love him more than I can possibly say, and I hope to God you don't remember me saying all this when you wake up."

"I think I love you, Sam Tyler," said John, trembling. "And I want to be this Doctor person, if I am him. I want to be him if he's who you love."

"And you will, John Smith, you will be him. Soon, I hope," said Sam. "But for now, you have to be this. Until the threat is gone."

John straightened up. "Well then, what are we waiting for? Come on!"

"What? John? Where are we going?" said Sam, as John clutched his hand and pulled him in the direction of the academy.

"To get help!"

Once inside the school, John grabbed a bell and began ringing it loudly. The clanging echoed throughout the school. "What are you doing?" Sam inquired.

"Maybe one man can't fight them, but this school teaches us to stand together!" said John zealously. "Take arms! Take arms!"

Sam realized with horror what the human wanted to do.

One, don't let me hurt anyone. We can't have that, but you know what humans are like...

"You can't do that!" Sam shouted at him as the students and staff began to rouse themselves from their beds and rally out in the hallways.

"You want me to fight, don't you?" said John. "Take arms! Take arms!"

"I say, sir, what's the matter?" said one student sleepily as he came down the stairs.

"Enemy at the door, Hutchinson, enemy at the door. Take arms!"

Sam watched in horror as his Doctor organized troops for battle.

"I've got to find that watch," he whispered.

As the schoolboys assembled downstairs, preparing for the fight, Sam found Martha and Joan upstairs, tucked away safely in Smith's study. "Oh, bloody hell, there you are!" gasped Martha in relief, pulling him into a tight hug. "I was so scared that the Family-"

"It's okay, I'm fine. But it's the Doctor, Martha, he's organizing the children to fight the Family!"

Martha looked at him, aghast. "No, he can't! We've got to stop him."

"I tried, but he's a thickheaded human with thickheaded ideals. He won't listen to me!"

"Will someone please explain to me what on God's green earth is happening?" Joan exclaimed. "All your talk of time machines and travelers from other worlds and...and pocket watches! This is madness!"

"Yep. And it's happening right outside your front door, Matron," said Sam.

She looked at him hawkishly, then at Martha. "Tell me. In this fairy tale, who are the two of you?"

Martha looked Sam, then back at the 1914 woman. "Just his friends," she replied.

"And human, I take it?"

"Human as they come," said Sam. "The Doctor rescued me from these plastic creatures. Well, I rescued him too. We rescued each other. And I've traveled with him ever since."

"The Doctor found me when I got stranded on the moon," said Martha. "The whole entire hospital I was interning at was just transported there. I'm training to be a doctor, you know. Not an alien doctor, a proper doctor. A doctor of medicine."

Joan laughed derisively. "Well that certainly is nonsense. Women might train to be doctors, but hardly a skivvy and hardly one of your color."

Sam's jaw dropped. Martha's eyebrows shot up as she glared at the nurse. "Oh, do you think?" she said, her voice suddenly poisonous.

"Oh, no, she didn't," said Sam.

Martha held up the back of her hand and jabbed the index finger of the other at each section. "Bones of the hand. Carpal bones, proximal row: scaphoid, lunate, triquetral, pisiform. Distal row: trapezium, trapezoid, capitate, hamate. Then the metacarpal bones extending in three distinct phalanges: proximal, middle, distal."

Sam erupted in rapid applause. "Well said, old girl!"

"You read that in a book," said Joan, embarrassed.

"Yes, to pass my exams!" Martha said, smiling, proud of herself. "Can't you see this is true?"

Joan turned for the door. "I must go," she said.

"If we find that watch, then we can stop them," Martha said, stopping her.

Joan turned back to look at her and Sam. "Those boys are going to fight. I might not be a doctor, but I'm still their nurse. They need me." Then she rushed out the door.

"It's alright, Martha," said Sam, coming up behind her and comfortingly putting his arm around her shoulders. "We can find it ourselves."

But they searched and scoured the Doctor's study, but it was nowhere to be found. Martha gave a short scream of frustration and sent some pieces of parchment flying off John Smith's desk.

"It's no use, Martha," said Sam. "I dropped it in the garden, I know I did. Or somewhere along the way to the dance hall. This is all my fault."

"There's no time for assigning blame," said Martha. "We have to get that watch!"

"Alright," said Sam. "You stay here. I'll search the grounds."

"You're not going out there by yourself," protested Martha, grabbing her coat and throwing it on.

"Martha, you can't go out there, there's a war going on outside!" said Sam.

"So what?" said Martha. "I can take care of myself just as well as you can, Sam Tyler. Besides..." She smiled, chortling shortly. "I blend in in the dark better."

Sam couldn't help but laugh at that, despite the circumstances. "Martha Jones, you are a marvel. Never forget that."

They were going down the stairs when Sam felt it. Again. That same sensation he'd felt in the dance hall. He had a vision of the Doctor, drenched and righteously furious, standing in the midst of a water and firestorm. It was the H.C. Clements building, from when the Doctor had killed the Empress of the Racnoss. "Martha, someone's opening the watch again!"

"What are you talking about?" Martha asked.

"Don't ask me how I know, I just do. The point is, someone has the watch!"

Martha looked aghast. "What if it's the Family?!" she gasped.

"No," said Sam. "If it was them, we'd already know. We'd be dead."

"Well maybe it's the Doctor then," Martha reasoned hopefully.

"There's a function on that watch designed specifically to make him not notice it, unless you showed or gave it to him directly. No, it's...it's someone who doesn't understand how to use the watch. Whoever it is, we have to find them. Come on!" Sam rushed down the stairs, Martha following close behind.

Sam and Martha came out of the school just in time to find the Sister, the little girl with the pink bow and the red balloon, confronting the soldiers. "Mister Rocastle! Please, don't go near her," said Martha shouted to the headmaster, who was beckoning for the girl to come with him.

"You were told to be quiet," ordered Rocastle, then added to Sam, "and you, Mister Tyler, where have you been, leaving the fight to these young men? Coward."

"Just listen to us. She's part of it. Smith, tell him," said Sam.

The Doctor swallowed. "She was-she was with-with Baines in the village," he stammered.

The headmaster rolled his eyes. "Mister Smith, I've seen many strange sights this night, but there is no cause on God's Earth that would allow me to see this child in the field of battle, sir. Come with me."

The little girl sized him up. "You're funny," she said.

"That's right. Now take my hand," said Rocastle impatiently.

"So funny." The girl produced a ray gun and vaporized the headmaster, turning him to green dust. She looked at all the boys, daringly. "Now who's going to shoot me? Any of you, really?!" she sneered.

John swallowed. "Put down your guns," he ordered.

"But sir, the Headmaster-" Hutchinson piped up.

"I'll not see this happen. Not anymore. You will retreat in an orderly fashion back through the school. Hutchinson, lead the way."

"But sir-"

"I said, lead the way." There was a finality to the human's voice. Sam couldn't help but smile. His Doctor was still in there somewhere.

At that moment, Baines slinked in, flanked by Jenny. "Well, go on, then. Run!" he roared, firing his gun.

"Come on!" cried Martha, fleeing.

"John!" Sam and John's hands met and linked together, and they ran into the building.

"Reanimate!" ordered Baines, and the scarecrow soldiers, which the boys had shot down, came back online, stalking them through the premises.

"Sam, we've got to get these boys out of here!" John called to him over the hubbub.

"I agree, and Martha and Joan as well," Sam said. "Looks like it's just you and me, John."

John smiled a little. "Just like old times."

Sam smiled back and nodded. "Just like old times."

John grabbed Sam's waistcoat and pulled him in for a kiss. But it was cut short at the sound of laser fire, and they were forced to scurry off.

They were getting the women and children out, when all of a sudden, Sam felt the essence of the Time Lord echo through his mind. Lord of Time, it roared.

John looked at Sam. "Sam, did you hear-"

"Yes!" said Sam. "You felt it too."

"I did," said John. "Is it-is it him? The Doctor?"

"Yes," said Sam. "It came from upstairs! Follow me!" He turned for the door, but found a mass of scarecrows standing in wait. Sam swiftly slammed it shut. "Not that way," he exclaimed, turning to run the other direction, John in tow.

The two of them crept to the edge of the woods next to the school. They peeped out from behind the trees. The Family was standing in front of the school, grouped around a familiar blue box.

"No," gasped Sam. "How did they find it?"

"Come back, Doctor!" called Mr. Clark. "Come home! Come and claim your prize."

"Out you come, Doctor. There's a good boy. Come to the Family," taunted Baines.

"Time to end it now!" added Jenny.

"You recognize it, don't you?" Sam whispered to John.

John swallowed nervously. "I've never seen it in my life."

"I'm sorry, John, but human you is not a good liar. You wrote about it. The blue box. You dreamt of a blue box," Sam insisted.

"I'm not..." John choked, staring from Sam to the TARDIS. "I'm John Smith," he said, his voice breaking. "That's all I want to be. John Smith, with his life, and his job..." John looked at Sam in desperation. "...and his love. Why can't I be John Smith? Isn't he a good man?" John let out a shaky puff of breath. "Isn't he enough for you?" he whispered.

"Of course he is, don't be ridiculous," Sam said, hugging him tightly.

"Then why can't I stay?" John sobbed.

"John...you're a good man. A bit of a prick sometimes, but a good man nonetheless," said Sam, consoling stroking his fingers through the human's brown hair. "But we need the Doctor," he breathed in his ear.

John pulled away from him. "What am I, then?" he asked, standing up and backing away.

"John..." said Sam, reaching out for him.

"Nothing," said John bleakly. "I'm just a story." He turned tail and ran off into the trees and the dark.

"John!" Sam whispered urgently after him. But the human was gone.

Sam sighed in frustration and turned around. To his surprise, there was a young boy standing right in front of him.

"Latimer," stuttered Sam, recognizing him as a student from Farringham. "You're supposed to be down in the village with Matron and Miss Jones."

"I know, sir, I just..." Latimer blinked his large brown eyes. He reached into the pocket of his uniform trousers...

...and pulled out the watch.

Sam took it in disbelief from his outstretched hand. "Where did you find this?" he asked.

"On the grounds," said Latimer. "It's Mister Smith's, isn't it? It...it called out to me. It tells me things."

"What things?" Sam asked, dropping down on one knee to be able to look the boy in the eye.

Latimer licked his lips worrisomely. "A war. Involving the whole wide world. I'm in it. All taking place in a year's time."

"World War One," Sam realized. "1914."

"So it's true, then," said Latimer.

Sam looked at the boy. God, he couldn't be more than 14. Sam nodded gravely. "Yes."

"Can the Doctor help us?" Latimer asked.

"How do you know the Doctor?" Sam asked him.

"The watch. It showed me him. He's so terrible...and so wonderful too. And you. You're his friend, aren't you?"

"Yes. I am," said Sam.

"The Doctor can save us," said Latimer, backing away. "You have to find him. You have to give it to him, so he can save us."

Sam stood up. "I will. I promise."

Latimer nodded, turned, and fled into the woods, toward the village.

Sam looked back at the direction John Smith had ran. Then he took off after his Time Lord.

Chapter 54: Time Lord Rising, Volume 14

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Family Of Blood" by Paul Cornell, original air date: June 2, 2007. (2/2)

Chapter Text

Sam found John hiding in a small cabin in the woods. "Doctor?" said Sam tenderly.

John was sitting on a hassock, hugging himself against the cool November night, shuddering in the dark. "Please leave me alone, Tyler," the skinny man whispered hoarsely.

Sam sat beside him on the edge of the hassock. "Now why would I do that?" he whispered.

John looked at him, fear and hopelessness reflecting in his big brown eyes. "Maybe I should just go to them. Turn myself in-before anyone else gets hurt."

"Doctor, you do that, and they've won," Sam stressed.

"Then what can we do?" John asked. "You're his...friend. Can't you help?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm just one man. I'm not important."

"You are to him."

Sam smiled sadly. "Maybe...but I am so small, so insignificant...compared to him. He's nearly a thousand years old. There've been so many before that have traveled with him, and there'll be many more after I'm gone. It's lonely for him, I imagine-watching the universe turn to dust. No wonder he never stops running."

"Sam," whimpered John quietly. "I don't want to be lonely. I just want to...be. I want...to live in a nice little house, and grow vegetables in the garden, and paint pictures, and take long walks on Sundays...and I want you." He looked down, blushing.

Sam sighed and gently kissed his temple. "John, believe me, if I could live a conventional life with you...it would be the happy ending I never expected. But that's our lives. It's a fantasy, John. You and I...can never be normal."

"Why?" said John, looking up to stare at him dryly. "Because I'm an alien, or because we're both blokes?

Sam smiled wryly back. "Yes."

John gave a hiccupy laugh, in spite of himself. He leaned forward and kissed Sam softly. Sam reciprocated the kiss, cupping the other man's bony cheek with the palm of his hand, drinking in his warm, soft lips.

But their kiss was interrupted by a slight shuddering of the whole cabin. "What's that?" said John.

Another shudder, and an orange flash of light coming from the window. Sam and John arose from the hassock and peered out.

In the distance, brilliant orange fireballs was arcing across the sky, coming to crash down on the tiny town on the horizon. "They're bombing the village," gasped John.

"Martha, Joan, the children," said Sam in horror. He frantically reached into his pocket and pulled out the watch. "Here," he said, holding it out to the other man. "Take it."

John backed away. "No. No, I-I can't."

"Doctor, you're our only hope. It's you they want."

"Stop calling me Doctor!" exclaimed John in anguish. "I-I could never be him. I'm human, and there is nothing special about me!"

Something about those specific words registered with Sam subconsciously, and the drumbeat in the back of his mind grew just a tad bit louder for a moment. "Doc-John. Please. Just..." Sam took John's hand and laid it on top of the watch in his. "Just listen to it."

Closer...closer, little man, the watch beckoned. "It's like he's...sleeping," struggled John, his eyes closed intently, focusing on it.

"You can hear the Doctor?" said Sam.

"Yes. He's...waiting," said John, opening his eyes. "Waiting to awaken." Waken me, little man.

"Then do it," said Sam, his voice breaking with hope. "All you have to do is open the watch, and he's back."

John's eyes darted around, desperately. "What if...what if I just gave them this?" said John, holding out the watch. "They would have what they want. They could leave."

Sam shook his head. "It doesn't work like that." He reached inside his waistcoat and pulled out John Smith's Journal Of Impossible Things. "If those creatures got ahold of the Time Lord within, they would live forever. They would breed and conquer. They would bring destruction over the entire cosmos. It's all right here-in your handwriting."

John began to cry. "You knew all along. Why did you never say anything?"

"What could I have said?" Sam choked, and he realized he was crying too. "Don't you realize how hard this is for me? I finally, finally, have a version of you that can love me back, can grow old with me and be with me. But it's not right for me to keep you. The universe needs the Doctor...we don't have any other choice."

Crying harder, John pressed forward and kissed Sam desperately, his lips salty and full of need. Sam kissed him back just as hard, releasing his inner frustration, his rage, his sorrow. Oh, it wasn't fair. Sam just wanted to keep this Doctor forever, so that they could be the same, so they could belong to each other for as long as they both lived.

Suddenly, the men gasped simultaneously as images flowed from the watch to their minds' eyes. Sam and John were standing in a church, just having gotten done getting married, and sharing their first kiss as man and husband. Then they were both watching over their small firstborn daughter, holding her, raising her together. The two men and their children walking into town, going to market. Then, an elderly John, lying on his death bed, was holding the hand of his devoted partner. "The children send their love. And the grandchildren," said Sam.

"And they're safe?" John asked.

"Yes. All of them."

"Then it is done." John's voice was soft, so weak, so tired. "You have been the best of my life, Sam Tyler. My love. Thank you."

The elderly Sam leaned over and kissed his wrinkled brow. "I love you, John Smith. It has been wonderful. Thank you."

John smiled sleepily at his beloved husband and slowly shut his eyes.

John's eyes flew open. "Did you see?" he whispered sharply.

Sam nodded tearfully. "Yes," he spoke softly. "But it's all made up. It's not real."

Tears afresh sprang to the human's eyes as he squeezed them shut. "I love you," he wept.

"And I love you too," said Sam, pressing his forehead to the other man's, stroking his hair. "And it would have been wonderful. I'm so sorry."

They stood together for a few more minutes, crying and holding each other, as the fireballs continued to fly outside. Then, John opened his eyes, a hardness set to them. He took the watch from Sam's hand. "Well then," he whispered, staring at it. "Tis time to do it."

The Time Lord returned. And he punished those who had hunted him, had killed, had terrorized, had ruined the happiness of his human self and so many others. He didn't kill them, no. He did something worse. He gave them exactly what they had wanted: to live forever. Only to exist in the worst way possible.

And he never even raised his voice.

Sam pulled on his hoodie over his regular, 21st century clothes and stared at himself in the mirror. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a little flash of movement. Sam shuddered and hurriedly turned away from his reflection.

Sam headed down the corridor and into the console room. Martha was already aboard and sleeping in her room, exhausted from the long night of caring for the schoolboys. All that was missing was their extraterrestrial pilot, who was just entering the TARDIS now. He had changed out of his Edwardian camouflage, and was wearing his normal brown pinstriped suit and long brown coat again. His shoulders, Converse, and spiky hair was slightly damp from the rain that fell outside.

"Hey," said Sam tentatively as the Time Lord firmly closed the door of the TARDIS behind himself.

The Doctor turned and looked at him, and Sam recognized the oldness that reappeared behind those brown cow eyes once more. "Hey," said the Doctor quietly.

"So...tie up the loose ends and all that?" asked Sam, coming down the stairs and standing at the bottom as the Doctor solemnly flicked switches and pulled levers on the console, sending them into the Vortex.

"Yeah." The Doctor's voice was hollow-sounding, but then sort of solidified. "Time we moved on."

"I agree," said Sam. "Well...good to have you back, Doctor." He awkwardly nodded and turned to go back up the stairs.

"Sam." The Doctor's voice stopped Sam dead in his tracks. "I think you should know...I remember being John Smith."

"Oh?" said Sam nonchalantly, pivoting around on one heel. His heart was suddenly beating hard in his chest.

"Yes," said the Doctor. "I remember all of it."

"All of it, huh," gulped Sam. They stared at each other for a good long while.

Then the Doctor smiled.

In three long strides, he was across the console room and tipping Sam's face up to kiss him. Sam inhaled with surprise and kissed the Time Lord back. The Doctor chuckled warmly into the kiss, winding his stringy arms around the shorter man's torso, pulling him close. Their three hearts beat against each other in perfect synchronicity.

Sam's cheeks were burning with delighted embarrassment. "I hate you. Idiot," he murmured against the Time Lord's lips.

"Doesn't feel that way to me," the Doctor smirked. Sam blushed even more, and kissed the Time Lord harder to shut him up.

Chapter 55: Time Lord Rising, Volume 15

Notes:

Chapter based on "Blink" by Stephen Moffat, original air date: June 9, 2007.
I do not own "I Don't Want To Miss A Thing" by Aerosmith.

Chapter Text

One average day in London…

The Doctor, Sam, and Martha climbed out of a taxi they had taken from Wester Drumlins and began looking up and down the street. "This way, I think," said Martha, getting ready to take off. She was toting a quiver of arrows, and the Doctor had a bow strapped across his chest.

"Oi, you 'aven't paid yer fare!" the cabbie hollered at them.

Sam tossed him some bills. "Keep the change, mate."

Suddenly, a blonde woman came running out of a store at them, a large blue folder in her hand. "Doctor, Doctor, Doctor!" she cried.

"Hello, sorry, bit of a rush," said the Doctor distractedly to her. "There's sort of a thing happening. Fairly important we stop it."

"My God, it's you. It really is you," said the woman breathlessly. The Doctor stared at her in confusion. "Oh, you don't remember me, do you?"

"Doctor, we haven't have time for this. The migration's started," said Martha impatiently.

"Look, sorry, I've got a bit of a complex life," the Doctor apologized. "Things don't always happen to me in quite the right order. Gets a bit confusing at times, especially at weddings. I'm rubbish at weddings, especially my own."

"Wait. What wedding?" said Sam, glaring at the Doctor.

"Oh, my God, of course. You're a time traveler," the woman realized. "It hasn't happened to you yet. None of it. It's still in your future."

"What hasn't happened?" said the Doctor.

"Doctor, please. Twenty minutes to Redd hatching!" said Martha.

"It was me. Oh, for God's sake, it was me all along. You got it all from me," said the woman, shaking her head.

"Got what?" asked the Doctor.

The woman cleared her throat. "Okay, listen. One day you're going to get stuck in 1969. Make sure you've got this with you." She handed the Doctor the envelope. "You're going to need it."

"Doctor!" Martha shouted.

"Yeah, listen, listen, got to dash. Things happening. Well, four things. Well, four things and a lizard."

"Okay. No worries. On you go. See you around some day," said the woman, turning to go back into her store.

"What was your name?" the Doctor called after her.

The woman looked over her shoulder. "Sally Sparrow," she said.

"Good to meet you, Sally Sparrow." The Doctor smiled at her.

Suddenly, a tall blonde man carrying a carton of milk came up next to Sally. He caught sight of the Doctor-and Sam-and gawked at them, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.

Sally smiled and took the man's hand. "Goodbye, Doctor." She pulled the man into the video store and shut the door.

"Weird," said Sam. "This happen to you often?"

"Sort of," said the Doctor. "Anyway…off we go!" Sam laughed as the Doctor grabbed his hand and took off running down the street-just like always.

Except now…the Doctor and Sam were truly together.

They tracked the Redd, a specimen from a semi-sentient species from the planet of Jukogreem, to a large cathedral downtown. It had apparently drifted in through the Cardiff Riff, and had settled in London. Luckily, the Redd have a natural psychic camouflage to them that makes them invisible to all except those who are looking to find them. It was egg-laying season for this particular creature, and according to the Doctor, newly hatched Redd were highly radioactive, and would be a danger to the patrons of London, and the world. But, the Doctor explained, if the Redd was pierced precisely in its laginal lobe, by, say, a bow and arrow, the offspring, their eggs still tethered to their layer via the equivalent of an umbilical cord, would hatch harmlessly, and the Doctor could transport the Redd and its babies back to Jukogreem in the TARDIS.

"But Doctor, won't shooting the Redd in the whatsit hurt it?" Sam asked.

"Nah, it's perfectly harmless. The Redd regenerate cells fast. It'll be like get a shot at the hospital. Now…" The Doctor pointed down the hall. "Sam, you go thataway and look for the Redd. Holler if you see it. Martha and I will look down the other way."

"Aye aye, Doctor," said Sam, following the alien's orders and heading away.

After about fifteen minutes of walking through the dark, creepy cathedral, Sam still hadn't located the beast. "Bloody hell," he muttered to himself. "They've probably already located the bloody thing and taken care of it. Guess I'll go back."

But when Sam turned around, he was suddenly nose-to-nose with a giant chunk of rock. "Ah!" Sam cried in surprise. Then he curiously shined the light on the obstruction.

It was of an angel crying. "That's odd. That wasn't there before," said Sam. He stared and stared at the statue, expecting it to move, but it didn't.

Then…he blinked.

Suddenly, Sam heard a loud car horn. He turned and saw two very bright and very close headlights barreling straight for him. Sam yelped as something tugged on his wrist and pulled him out of the way of the speeding car just in time.

"Watch where yer goin', you crazy kid!" yelled the driver out of his window. Sam noticed the car was old of make, late sixties or early seventies, maybe.

Sam turned to find the Doctor's bony fingers curled around his wrist. "Told you they'd get him too," said Martha, coming up behind him as the Doctor pulled Sam into a hug.

"I wish they hadn't…but at least we're all together," said the Doctor.

"Er…what's going on?" said Sam. "Where's the church?"

"In the future. It probably hasn't been built yet, or they're just building it now."

"Wait, are you saying we've time traveled? How? We're not in the TARDIS," said Sam.

"It was the angels," said Martha. "The statues."

"Hey, I saw a statue of an angel. It sort of…snuck up on me. Sounds kinda weird, though, right?"

"Not weird at all," said the Doctor. "It happened to us too. The Angels knew we'd be coming. They were waiting for us. It was an ambush."

"Er…what?" said Sam.

"It's 1969, Sam. Just like that girl said it would be." The Doctor sighed and pulled the blue folder Sally Sparrow had given him from an inner flap of his coat. "Sam…we're in trouble."

The Doctor, Sam, and Martha went through the folder and learned all about the Weeping Angels and Sally Sparrow and the DVDs. They learned that they would have to find Billy Shipton, record their message, and leave it for Sally to find in the future, so she could send the TARDIS back to them. When Sam asked the Doctor how exactly it was all going to fall into place, the Doctor replied with a vague, "Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey…"

But with no TARDIS, the time travelers were stuck in one place, for once. They checked into a chintzy motel to spend the night in, until they could achieve more suitable accommodations. Money was a bit of a problem, but the Doctor managed to convince the manager with his psychic paper that he was the Earl of Hampshire, and the motel eagerly put them up.

The Doctor came inside his and Sam's room and locked the door. "Martha's settled in. She's a bit paranoid about bedbugs, but I convinced her bedbugs didn't exist till the mid-seventies."

"Thanks for that," grimaced Sam. "Well, is she okay?"

"Yes. Not happy about being stuck, but…yes. She'll be fine."

"Good," said Sam.

The Doctor came to his side. "And what about you, Sam Tyler? Are you okay?"

"Well, I'm stuck in 1969, with killer statues on my tail." Sam sighed. The Doctor took his hand and kissed his temple. Sam looked up at him and smiled. "I'm just perfect." He kissed him.

"Good," said the Doctor, kissing him back. Sam drew his hands up the Doctor's back, while the Doctor clutched Sam's upper arms. The Doctor felt Sam's lips curve into a smile.

This kiss was different than the others. Not so chaste and affectionate as it was before. As they moved against each other, one of the Doctor's hands drifted up and into Sam's thick hair. Sam made a noise and pulled the Time Lord into him by the waist. Their lips parted, their breathing quickened. The passion was mounting, and they were getting steadily more urgent about the way their mouths moved together. Finally, Sam had to break away, gasping for oxygen. The Doctor chuckled shyly, cupping Sam's cheek, their foreheads and the tips of their noses brushing.

"Doctor." Sam's whisper was barely perceptible. "Take me to bed."

The Doctor pulled away slightly, his big brown eyes widening in surprise. "Really?" he asked.

Sam nodded, nervous, but sure. "Yes...make love to me. Please," he murmured.

The Doctor nodded. Then he kissed him once more, more tenderly and deep than ever before, their lips melding together like taffy, pulling and mingling and joining, over and over. Sam laughed shyly into the kiss.

The Time Lord and the human shared unending kisses like this for the longest time, till the Doctor felt Sam’s lips part against his, the warm tip of his tongue poking out to touch the Doctor’s mouth curiously. The Doctor opened his mouth slightly and invited the slide of his tongue between his lips. He was taking it incredibly slow, letting Sam lead.

The kiss came steadily became more and more heated, more invasive and deep, till Sam was gasping for breath. “Sorry,” he whispered embarrassedly. “I…I don’t have that...bypass thingie-”

“Sam, it’s fine,” the Doctor laughed. “I understand.”

Sam closed his eyes as the Doctor kissed his forehead, his cheeks, and his lips again. He opened his mouth eagerly, and the Doctor slipped his tongue inside. Sam may or may not have made a little moan in the back of his throat.

The Doctor carefully reached up and pulled the zip on Sam’s hoodie, coaxing it off of his shoulders. Sam followed his example and unbuttoned the Doctor’s suit jacket. Still deeply submerged in kissing, they made their way to the bed, bouncing slightly on the mattress as they both fell down. The men both laughed, looking deeply into each other’s eyes.

“Don’t be nervous,” the Doctor whispered tenderly.

“I’m not,” said Sam.

The Doctor smiled consolingly at him. “Yes you are. Everyone is, first time.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Y’know, I’m not exactly a virgin. I’ve had sex with plenty of women.”

“Yes, but not with a man. Or me,” said the Doctor.

Sam shrugged nonchalantly, but the Doctor could tell he still had a few trepidations. “I’ve got you,” said the Doctor, kissing him. “I promise.”

Sam was lying on his back and the Doctor was on top of his body. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the other man’s warm neck, leaving a trail of kisses all down his throat. “Mm,” grunted Sam. He found that his neck was rather sensitive. The Doctor chuckled deeply, nipping lightly as his collarbone. Sam actually made a noise of surprise at that.

Sam felt the Doctor’s cool fingers slip under the hem of his Driveshaft t-shirt and start to pull it up his torso. Sam propped himself up a bit and lifted his arms to accentuate the action. The Doctor looked down at his bare chest. “Not bad,” he commented.

“Thank you,” said Sam. Oh, for God’s sake, was he blushing?! “I try to work out and-and…eat protein and stuff.”

The Doctor laughed at that, and Sam felt his ears, cheeks, and neck heat up even more. “I don’t know why I said that,” he muttered, laughing, flustered.

The Doctor kissed his lips chastely. “You’re adorable. Actually…you’re quite beautiful, Sam Tyler.”

Sam smiled bashfully. “Well let’s get a look at you, huh?”

“You’ve seen me!” complained the Doctor, loosening his tie so Sam could undo the buttons of his blue shirt.

“So I did. It was a nice view too,” said Sam, pulling down the Doctor down so he could kiss him while he undressed him. “You know, Doctor, there’s something I’ve always wondered…are Time Lords ticklish?”

The Doctor’s eyes widened in fear. “Why…why no, actually, it’s not part of our anatomy,” he lied nervously.

“Oh, really?” said Sam, raising a wicked eyebrow. “So it wouldn’t affect you if I did, say…this?”

“Oh, no, no really, Sam, don’t-ahahahahahahahaha!” the Doctor burst out laughing as Sam’s fingers danced up his flanks, sparking sensitive nerves. He fell backward, trying uselessly to shield himself from Sam’s tortuous hands. Sam crawled atop him, straddling his waist, providing all the better angle to tickle the Time Lord. “No, no, please-ahahahahaha-stop! Ahahahaha! Noahahahahaha!” the Doctor cried pitifully.

“Oh, so Time Lords aren’t ticklish?” cackled Sam cruelly as he continued his onslaught of torment.

“No we’re noahahahahahahaha-we’re not-oh please, Sam, please, stop! AHAHAHAHAHA!”

Sam gave in and stopped the tickling to drop down and give the Doctor a good strong kiss. "I love you," he whispered.

The Doctor stared into his eyes, smiling contentedly. He stroked his cheek. "Sam," he uttered, and it was all he had to say.

Their limbs entwined with the thin motel sheets, the two lay together, Sam with his head on the Doctor's hearts, staring outside at the rain, the Doctor combing his fingers through Sam's untamable hair. Both of them were still and content, just lying there, skin pressed skin, listening to the pit-pat-pit-pat of the water drops splatting against the window pane and each other's breathing.

"I love you," said Sam quietly.

"I love you too," the Doctor said back. He smiled to himself. "Sam Tyler: the little human that stole my hearts."

Sam shifted until he and the Doctor were lying on their sides, facing each other. "Blimey, I'm sore. Is it gonna be like this every time?"

"Oh, not every time," said the Doctor. He grinned evilly. "Just when you're a delicate virgin."

"Oi!"

"Besides, I'm not the one who kept whimpering, 'more, please, harder!'"

"I was not whimpering," Sam informed him with a telling blush.

"Well what would you call this noise?" The Doctor made some high pitched sounds from the back of his throat, sounding like a hungry puppy, obviously mocking Sam.

"I hate you," tsked Sam, then he laughed and settled into the Doctor's arms. "Not really."

"Sam," murmured the Doctor. "Sing something for me."

"Really?" Sam was slightly surprised. He never really sang in Driveshaft, just back up vocals, but his voice was decent.

"Really," said the Doctor. "But if you're too tired, I'd understand-"

"No, no, I want to," said Sam quickly. "What do you want me to sing?"

"Anything." The Doctor's voice was husky with affection and sleep. "I don't care. Just sing something to me."

"Alright." Sam got an idea. He cleared his throat nervously. Then he began to sing:

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing
Watch you smile while you are sleeping
While you're far away and dreaming
I could spend my life in this sweet surrender
I could stay lost in this moment forever
Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure

Don't want to close my eyes
I don't want to fall asleep
'Cause I'd miss you baby
And I don't want to miss a thing
'Cause even when I dream of you
The sweetest dream would never do
I'd still miss you baby
And I don't want to miss a thing

The Doctor was reveling in the sound of his singing. Sam let it encourage him and continued.

Lying close to you feeling your heart beating
And I'm wondering what you're dreaming
Wondering if it's me you're seeing
And then I kiss your eyes
And thank God we're together
I just wanna stay with you in this moment I'll treasure
Forever and ever

I don't want to close my eyes
I don't want to fall asleep
'Cause I'd miss you baby
And I don't want to miss a thing
'Cause even when I dream of you
The sweetest dream would never do
I'd still miss you baby
And I don't want to miss a thing

The desire to close his eyes and let sleep envelope him, as the Doctor's arms were enveloping him, was growing stronger and stronger, but Sam was determined to finish the song.

I don't want to miss one smile
I don't want to miss one kiss
I just want to be with you
Right here with you, just like this
I just want to hold you close
Feel your heart so close to mine
And just stay here in this moment
For all the rest of time...

Sam, too drowsy to keep his eyes open another minute, succumb to slumber. The Doctor chuckled fondly and pulled him closer, finishing the song himself.

Don't want to close my eyes
I don't want to fall asleep
'Cause I'd miss you baby
And I don't want to miss a thing
'Cause even when I dream of you
The sweetest dream will never do
I'd still miss you baby
And I don't want to miss a thing.

Then the Doctor shut his eyes and joined his lover in dreaming. The Time Lord and his human slept peacefully, not knowing how very, very soon their short time together was going to end.

Chapter 56: Time Lord Rising, Volume 16

Notes:

Chapter based on "Utopia" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 16, 2007 (1/5).
-That might not be exactly how the Rassilon Imprimtur works.
-Yes, I changed Jack's story line.
-Suspend your disbelief; it's a freaking fan fiction.

Chapter Text

"Morning, all," said Sam, practically bouncing down the stairs. He danced over to the console, whistling cheerfully. "Isn't this a gorgeous day? Absolutely brilliant. An A plus day. The universe gets a gold star for today."

Smells seemed sweeter, colors were brighter, music sounded better. Was this what love was?

"Glad you're in such a good mood, lover," said the Doctor, smirking, as Sam sauntered over to him. The Doctor's hands settled on Sam's hips and Sam's arm twined around his scrawny neck as they leaned toward each other for a kiss.

On the other side of the console, Martha rolled her eyes fondly. "Oi. Get a room."

"We're in a room," said the boys at the same time, then laughed, completely wrapped up in each other.

Martha shook her head at them. "Where are we off to today?" she asked.

"Why not Italy?" suggested Sam. "Rome, Verona, Venice. We could go gondola-ing."

"That's not a word," teased the Doctor.

"Yeah, and 'wibbly wobbly timey wimey' is?" Sam shot back, bumping his shoulder affectionately.

"You're right. That's four words." The Doctor grinned like the cheeky bastard he was, and Sam had to laugh.

Martha cleared her throat. "Hello? Remember me? I'm that medical student you picked up that one time?"

"Oh, Martha, come on, it's the honeymoon stage!" said the Doctor cheerfully, winding his arms around Sam's torso, holding him from behind.

"I asked you a question," said Martha.

"Uh…what was it again?"

"Where are we going," prompted Sam.

"Ah! Right!" The Doctor regretfully pulled away from his lover to type in something on the controls. The TARDIS landed with a mechanic wheeze and a thump. "Cardiff!" the Doctor announced, checking the coordinates.

"Cardiff?!" squawked Martha.

"Not very sexy," agreed Sam.

"Ah! But the thing about Cardiff is, it's built on a rift in time and space, just like California on the San Andreas fault," the Doctor explained to Martha, pacing around the console and pulling levers and such as he spoke. "But the rift bleeds energy. Every now and then, I need to open up the engines, soak up the energy, and use it as fuel."

"So it's a pit stop," laughed Martha.

"Exactly, Pidge!" cheered Sam.

"Should only take 20 seconds," the Doctor added.

"Wait a minute," said Martha suspiciously. "They had an earthquake in Cardiff a couple years ago-was that you?"

The Doctor and Sam grinned at each other. "Bit of trouble with the Slitheen, a long time ago," the Doctor said. "Lifetimes. I was a different man back then."

"Ya know," said Sam, leaning against the edge of the console. "Why can't we refuel somewhere more interesting? I mean, what is there in Cardiff exactly? The BBC filming studios?-hey!" As Sam's hand brushed over something on the controls, the TARDIS gave a loud and sharp metallic screech and lurched suddenly. The time travelers were forced to grab the console and hang on for dear life.

Sparks flew from the controls and the ship rattled and buffeted back and forth. "What did I do?!" Sam yelped over the cacophony.

"I don't know! You must've brushed the ship's Rassilon Imprimtur!" the Doctor said. "It doesn't normally react to human contact, but for some reason the ship's going berserk!"

"Well make it stop!" shrieked Martha.

"I can't!"

The TARDIS continued to rocket through the Vortex. "Where's it taking us?" Sam called.

"We're accelerating-into the future!" said the Doctor, looking at the scanner. "It's like it's running from something, but I can't imagine what! The year 1,000,000…5,000,000,000…5,000,000,000,000! What?!" The Doctor squinted at the screen in disbelief. "The year one hundred trillion, that's impossible!"

"Why, what happens then?!" said Martha frantically.

The Doctor's mouth moved in meaningless shapes. "We're going to the end of the universe," he said.

"Is that possible?" said Sam worryingly. "Does the universe have an end?"

"We're about to find out-hang on!" the Doctor hollered.

The TARDIS finally, finally, landed with a last vibration and a groan. "Well," said the Doctor, putting his hands in his pockets, looking at the ceiling curiously. "We've landed."

Sam swallowed. "But where? And…at what?"

"I'm not sure," said the Doctor, casting his eyes to the door. "Not even the Time Lords came this far. The answer to all those questions is out there."

Martha and Sam looked at each other uneasily, then back at the Doctor.

"We should leave," said the Doctor. "We should go, we should really, really…go."

The three nodded in agreement. Then they grinned at each other.

"Race ya outside!" exclaimed Sam, scampering for the door.

"No fair, you got a head start!" the Doctor called after him, laughing.

"Wait for me!" added Martha, tailing after them. They grabbed their respective hoodies, coats, and jackets from the hatstand and rushed outside. Or at least tried to.

But before Sam's fingers could even touch the handle of the door, it swung open.

A well built man with jet black hair and piercing blue eyes in a long, military jacket was standing outside, gazing into the TARDIS like a blind man seeing for the first time.

"Oh my God," whispered Sam.

"I knew it," said the American, his handsome face bursting into a grin. "I knew I'd find you someday."

"Jack?"

The ex-Time Agent whooped loudly and grabbed Sam into a hug. "Sam Tyler," he growled, and he cupped the other man's face and pulled him into a sucker-y kiss. "Just as sexy as I remember," Jack teased, grinning wolfishly.

"Jack! What the hell are you doing here?!" laughed Sam as Martha and the Doctor came out of the TARDIS behind him.

"Well, after Satellite Five, I had a helluva time; I was trying to find you and the Doctor, with this," said Jack, holding up his wrist, where his Vortex Manipulator was strapped to him. "I must have travelled to at least a million different locations in time and space, tracking leads to where the two of you might be, but I must have always just missed you. Finally, my Vortex Manipulator just crapped out on me and stranded me here. This is Malcassario, luckily, the home of one of the last surviving colonies of friendly humanoids in the universe."

"Jack, I'm so sorry," said Sam. "I guess we always meant to come back for you but…we must have forgotten," he said, feeling ashamed.

"I'm not so sure," said Jack, his playfully grin dissipating as he looked over at the skinny man in brown, staying silent for once.

"I'm sorry, hold on," said Martha, looking from one to the other to the other. "Do you all know each other? Is there some sort of hot guy time traveler club that you're all a part of or something?"

"Where are my manners?" Jack's trademark 500-megawatt smile returned as if by magic as he strode over to Martha to kiss her hand. "Captain Jack Harkness. And who are you?"

The usually self-composed medical student laughed flusteredly, blushing. "Martha Jones," she stammered out.

"Pleased to meet you, Martha Jones."

"Oh, don't start!" groaned the Doctor, as Sam laughed in the background.

The Captain rolled his eyes. "I was only saying hello."

"I don't mind," gushed Martha.

"None of us do," said Sam, winking at Jack.

"Oho! Well, aren't we comfortable in our own sexuality!" Jack guffawed, leaning toward the man in the hoodie flirtatiously. "So Sammy boy, did you and the Doctor finally bump uglies?"

"I don't shag and tell, Captain Innuendo Squad," said Sam smugly.

"I'm not hearing a 'no'!" sang out Jack triumphantly. "Good for you, son. It's about time."

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Alright, Jack, enough about my bedroom exploits, if you don't mind."

Jack turned to the Time Lord solemnly. "Doctor."

The Doctor nodded. "Captain."

"Good to see you," said Jack.

"And you," replied the Doctor. "Same as ever. Although…have you had work done?" he asked jokingly.

Jack looked at the tenth regeneration of the Doctor in disbelief. "You can talk."

The Doctor looked confused for a moment, then his eyebrows shot up in realization. "Oh yes, the face! Regeneration. How did you know this was me?"

"Eh, the police box kinda gives it away," said Jack.

"Also, you told him," Sam piped up. "'My bedroom exploits'. Your words."

"Ah. Yes. That too."

"I've been following you for a long time," said Jack. "You abandoned me."

"What? No, never. Jack, you've got it all wrong," said Sam, stepping in. "The Doctor, well, I'm still not exactly sure what happened on Satellite Five, but the Doctor said that you…that you wanted to stay…a-and help…and that's not what happened, was it?" he said, turning to the Doctor. "Did you really? You really just left him?"

But the Doctor couldn't answer the question, for it was cut off by a loud roar in the distance.

"Uh oh, Futurekind, right on time," said Jack.

"What are Futurekind?" said the Doctor.

Suddenly, they all looked up the hill to see a mass of strange humanoids running toward them. They were oddly dressed and marked and were carrying torches and sharp weapons. In the glint of the firelight, their sharp white teeth could be seen. "Uh oh," said Sam.

"I'm guessing they're not our welcoming party," said Martha.

"Cannibals, they live out here in the wild, preying on the idiot humans who come wandering out into the open," Jack informed them. "Kind of like us, actually."

"Right, into the TARDIS, all of you-" But before the Doctor had even opened his mouth, the gang heard that familiar wheezing sound. "Ohnonononononono!" the Doctor babbled, grabbing desperately for his dematerializing ship.

"Are you serious?!" Sam barked at the space that the TARDIS had just occupied. "That stupid old cow!"

"She sensed danger and went to the nearest safe place!" said the Doctor.

"There's a silo nearby, fenced off so the Futurekind can't get in," Jack told them hurriedly. The hunting party was getting closer and closer.

"Can we run to there from here?!" Martha exclaimed.

"We can go one better than that! Captain, your wrist!" shouted the Doctor.

Jack held out his Vortex Manipulator. The Doctor whipped out his sonic and scanned it. "It's locked onto the TARDIS's coordinates! Everyone grab onto Jack!"

Jack laughed loudly and yelled as they flashed out, "Oh, I've missed this!"

Chapter 57: Time Lord Rising, Volume 17

Notes:

Chapter based on "Utopia" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 16, 2007 (2/5).

Chapter Text

Flash.

The foursome arrived in a laboratory facility, gasping and panting for breath. "Oh, uuuugh!" groaned the Doctor, shuddering. "I hate primitive time travel. It makes me feel like a cat does when it's being petted backwards."

Sam pointed to the Doctor's head. "Is it just me, or is your hair standing even more on end that usual?"

The Doctor glared at him, mussing up his hair so it lay at only partial spikiness. "Shut up."

"Chan, Captain Harkness! Are you alright, tho?" A blue, insect-like alien in a white lab coat bustled over to them, brushing the Captain's shoulders concernedly.

"Just fine, Blue, just fine," said Jack.

The alien looked wide eyed at the newcomers. "Chan, who are these people, tho?"

"Just some friends I discovered outside the gate, Chantho," Jack answered. "This is Martha Jones, Sam Tyler, and the Doctor. Everyone, meet my lab technician, Chantho."

"Hello," said Sam, always the first to be friendly, shaking Chantho's hand.

"Chan, it is a pleasure to meet you, tho."

"Erm…hiya," said Martha, unsure whether shaking hands was a proper thing to do with the unfamiliar creature.

"I'm the Doctor, nice to meet you," said the Time Lord, also shaking her hand. "And might I say, you are a beautiful specimen! What planet do you originate from?"

"Doctor, don't be rude!" Sam hissed as Chantho's cheek areas turned sort of indigo colored.

"Chan, I do not protest," Chantho smiled bashfully. "I am from Malcassairo. I am a member of the Malmooth, tho."

"Malcassairo, Jack, you mention a Malcassairo. Is that where we are now?" the Doctor asked.

"Yeah. Like I said, one of the last remaining humanoid colonies in the universe. Well, one of the last friendly ones, that is," Jack amended.

"Chan, Captain Harkness is our leader, tho," said Chantho, looking admiringly at Jack.

"She looks just like you when you look at the Doctor," Martha whispered to Sam.

"Hush," Sam replied, blushing.

"What do you mean, leader?" the Doctor inquired.

"Well, they had to put someone in charge," said the Captain. "They just so happened to pick me."

"I can understand that," said the Doctor. "They tried to elect me several times as Lord High President on Gallifrey. Bureaucratic nightmare."

One two three four. One two three four. At the mention of the Time Lord's home planet, the drums returned to Sam's head with a sharpness. Sam clenched his eyes shut and rubbed his temples. No one noticed.

"Er, Mister Harkness-" Martha began.

"Please, call me Jack," said the ex-Time Agent, grinning dazzlingly. "Or 'Captain', if you prefer."

"Stop it," scolded the Doctor.

"Jack," said Martha. "You said 'they'. Who is 'they'?"

"The rest of the colony. We're camped out here, in this base," said Jack. "We have guards outside, watching the gates, making sure the savages don't get into the compound. This is where we're building the rocket."

"What rocket?" asked Martha.

"Chan, the rocket that will take us to Utopia. Oh. Excuse me, Captain Harkness, tho," said the technician, looking ashamed.

"Chantho, how many times do I have to tell you, it's okay to speak up. You're our ticket out of here-you're the most important person in this whole place," Jack consoled the alien, whose face antennae unfurled outward, signaling her pleasure as she smiled at the compliment.

"What's Utopia?" the Doctor said to Jack.

"Well…it's a long story," said Jack. "Come with me. Let me show you the whole facility. It might be easier to understand."

Jack led them to a long hallway, where people in ragged clothes and smudged faces were grouped together, playing cards, reading, or just simply chatting to pass the time. "It's like a refugee camp," remarked Martha.

"Stinking!" said Sam, waving his hand in front of his nose. "Oh, sorry. No offense. Not you," he said to a man on the side.

"Er, yeah, sorry. Supplies are limited, so everyone gets one shower a week," said Jack.

"Don't you see that?" said the Doctor gleefully, looking merrily at all the people around them. "The ripe old smell of humans! You survived. Oh, you might have spent a million years evolving into clouds of gas…and another million as downloads…but you always revert to the same basic shape. The fundamental humans. End of the universe and here you are. Indomitable! That's the word. Indomitable! Ha!"

Sam slipped his hand into the Time Lord's and looked up at him adoringly. His adorkable, nerdy Doctor. "I love you," he said tenderly. The Doctor, smiling, kissed his forehead.

"Where are we? I mean, really," said Martha.

Jack smiled. He pointed to a door to their left. "Look through there and find out."

The Doctor tried to open it, but it was stuck. He whipped out his sonic and scanned the control panel. "Give me a hand with this," he instructed his motley crew. "It's half deadlocked."

"Oho, so the sonic's not great after all!" Sam jeered, not unkindly. "No wood, no deadlocks-it might as well be a hairpin!"

"Oi, this old boy has gotten us out of some sticky wickets!" said the Doctor defensively. "It deserves proper respect."

They managed to open the door and the Doctor made to lean out. "Let's see where we ah!" The Doctor was caught with sickly surprise as he nearly fell down a long, long way. Luckily, Sam and Jack caught the back of his coat. "Thanks," said the Doctor.

"How did you manage without me?" Jack teased.

"Easy, with me," replied Sam, grinning smugly.

"Should I get a ruler?" joked Martha.

"Don't get your tail feathers in a ruffle, Pidge," said Sam. "Just a little banter between boys."

Martha peered out and down. "Now that's what I call a rocket!"

They were standing on the precipice of the rocket's outer hull, at very nearly the tippy top of the shuttle. "They're not refugees, they're passengers," said the Doctor, looking back at the people.

"And this rocket is bound for…Utopia?" said Sam, addressing Jack. "What is that?"

"The perfect place. Hundred trillion years, the same old dream."

"The promised land," said Sam.

"That too," said the Doctor. He looked down the shaft. "I don't recognize those engines."

"Ah, before we get into that…let's go back to the lab. It's been, had to have been, a hundred years or more since we had a scientist around here, and we need all the help we can get," said Jack. "Come on."

Sam muttered to Martha, "Jack is definitely hiding something."

"Chan, you have returned so soon, tho?" said Chantho as they returned to the lab.

"Yes, um, my friend the Doctor here is going to help you with the rocket," said Jack.

"I am?" said the Doctor.

"Well yeah! Er, Chantho, show him around," Jack directed.

"Chan, of course. Please, come this way, tho," said Chantho, leading the Doctor across the room to show him some big industrial gizmo.

"Oh my God-what the hell is that?!" Martha squawked, pointing to something on the wall.

Sam turned to look, and his mouth dropped open. "I don't believe it!" he exclaimed.

"It's a hand!" Martha exclaimed, as Jack came over to them. Sitting on a shelf, in a big glass case, floating in bubbling clear liquid, was indeed, a humanoid hand.

"That's not just any hand," said Sam, grinning. "That's the Doctor's hand!"

"What?!" Martha whirled around to look at the Time Lord, who was still reviewing the machinery with Chantho. "But he's already got two hands…unless…does he have more than two?"

"No," laughed Sam. "Believe me, he's only got the two."

"Shame," snickered Jack. "That could've had possibilities."

"So what? He just, grew another one?" Martha said.

"Well…yeah," said Sam. "See, it was Christmas morning, and there was a big spaceship above London, full of aliens who wanted to capture the Earth."

"I remember that," shuddered Martha. "It was the day all those poor people came out and stood on the edge of their roofs, like they were going to jump. It was scary."

"Yeah, well, luckily, the Doctor stopped it in time-with a little help from me," added Sam, puffing up. "The Doctor had to sword fight one of the aliens for rights to the planet, and it managed to cut off his hand! But he had just regenerated and, I dunno, managed to grow a new one! Freaky, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'd definitely say so," said Martha. "But what's the hand doing here?"

"Uh, well, I found it, when I was looking for you and the Doctor," said Jack, looking at Sam. "I'd know when I was close to you, because it would bubble in his presence-just like it's doing now."

Sam looked at Jack, wrinkling his nose. "I really don't want to know what you were doing with a hand of the Doctor's, mate." Jack gave him a dirty look.

"Oi, is that my hand?" said the Doctor, coming over to them and looking at the case in fascination.

"Yeah, we were just talking about it," said Sam.

"You grew…another…hand," said Martha, completely unable to fathom it.

The Doctor waved his right hand at her. "Hello!"

Sam looked at her and shrugged, grinning. "It's the Doctor. Best to not question it."

"Jack," said the Doctor slowly. "That rocket…"

Jack looked guilty. He looked at Chantho, then at the Time Lord. "Yes?"

"It's not going to fly, is it? This rocket with its ersatz engines. It's not working."

Jack sighed. "We're going to find a way."

"You're stuck on this planet," the Doctor said, as Jack and Chantho looked at each other ashamedly. "And you haven't told them, have you? That lot out there, they still think they're going to fly."

"You don't understand, Doctor," said Jack, his eyebrows setting hard. "You have your fancy ship which you can use to zip in and out whenever you feel like. You don't know what it's like to be trapped. To be stuck, with no escape. Well…I do." He looked at the Time Lord pointedly, and Sam again felt guilty. "I had to give these people hope, Doctor. There's a beacon, that's been signaling for a thousand years. 'Come to Utopia'. And now the universe is collapsing, and it's the only hope these people have for the future. It's given them something to keep living for. And I'm not going to sit idly by and let their hope die out. I'm not going to abandon them."

The Doctor nodded. "Quite right, too. You know…" the Doctor turned away and picked up a cable. "A boost reversal circuit, as the name would suggest, must be a circuit which reverses the boost. So, I wonder, what would happen if I did this?"

He pulled out his sonic and scanned the end of a cable. Then he pulled. Suddenly, there was a mechanical thrum, and power surged through the machines.

Chantho gasped happily, looking around in awe. "Chan, it's working, tho!"

The Doctor smiled dryly at Jack, who looked gobsmacked. "It's been too long, Captain. You've forgotten-I'm brilliant."

Chapter 58: Time Lord Rising, Volume 18

Notes:

Chapter based on "Utopia" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 16, 2007 (3/5).

Chapter Text

As the Doctor and Chantho continued working on the final details of the rocket's repair, Sam and Martha assisted Jack in organizing the refugees. The passengers were all in extremely good cheer, in learning that after waiting for so long, they were finally getting off of the damned planet and headed for the promised land.

"Excuse me! Sorry! Oof!" Something bumped into Sam's knee-a little boy, no older than ten, with scraggly blonde hair. "Hello, there. Ready for takeoff, mate?" Sam asked with a grin.

"Aye, sir," said the boy, grinning back.

"What's your name?" Sam asked.

"Creet, sir."

"Hello, Creet," said Sam, shaking his hand. "I'm Sam Tyler. Are you happy to be going to Utopia?"

"Aye, sir," said Creet again. Then he added, in a hushed tone, "Me mum used to say the sky was made of diamonds."

"Well, I've been up there, and believe me-it is everything you could possibly imagine. And so much more," Sam promised.

Creet grinned even bigger. He hugged Sam's legs briefly, then ran off to join the rest of the passengers in the hold.

Martha, coming up behind him, nudged his shoulder. "You're amazing with kids. I never knew."

"Yeah, well…had a troubled childhood myself. Know what it's like," shrugged Sam sheepishly.

"Too bad you and the Doctor will never…" Martha shrugged, trailing off.

"Oh, never say never, Pidge," said Sam. "Who knows? Maybe the Doctor will regenerate as a woman someday. You never can tell."

Martha laughed. "That would be something to see."

"Hey, come on," said Sam. "We should go check on the Doctor, see if everything's alright."

"Okay." Sam grabbed her hand and they edged through the crowd. The people were walking past them, bumping and jostling each other. "Hey!" squawked Martha, getting shoved by a man extra hard.

Something that had fallen from Martha's pocket, rolled across the floor and into Sam's toe. "Whoops," said Sam, bending over to get it.

It was a pocketwatch.

"Hey…where'd you get this?" said Sam, standing up straight with the watch, looking at it curiously. "Is this the Doctor's? I didn't think he got it back from the Family."

"Er…" Martha panicked, seeing the watch in Sam's hands. She'd been holding onto it all this time, not quite sure what to do with it or when exactly to bring it up. "I…I found it. In the TARDIS."

Sam looked at her curiously. "Where in the TARDIS?"

Martha sighed, caught. "Outside your bedroom," she fudged the truth.

"My bedroom?" said Sam, turning the watch over in his hand. "K…K…"

Koschei.

A rhythm tapped at the back of Sam's mind. One two three four. One two three four. One two three four. But it also seemed to come from the watch itself. There was a certain…warmth radiating from it, conducted into Sam's fingertips, to his nerves, to his very heart. Release me… it seemed to call to him. No, order him. Release me, you human fool, and receive my majesty. You will give your power to me!

Sam gulped. "There's an essence in there. I can feel it."

"What do you mean?" Martha said.

Sam looked from her to the entrancing watch. "I don't know…it's like it's…calling to me. I can't explain it."

"Sam…" Martha swallowed hard. "I…have you ever seen this watch before?"

"N-yes. Maybe. I don't know. It's like…it was in a dream, or something. It's all hazy."

"Sam…I think it's your watch. Your watch," Martha repeated, putting more emphasis on the second 'your'.

Sam looked up at her nervously. "What do you mean? 'My watch'? You mean like…like actually…" He slowly looked down at the watch again.

Open me, human boy. Open me, and summon your true being, accept your greater legacy. Release me!

A part of Sam wanted nothing more than to do as the watch said. But another, probably wiser, part wanted to drop that watch, run far away from it and never look back. "It's…bad," he stammered. "There's something bad in there. I'm…scared of it."

"Sam, if you can hear the watch…like the Doctor heard his watch when he was human…Sam. It might be possible that you're a-"

"Don't say it," said Sam softly.

"The Doctor might not be the only Time Lord left after all," Martha finished.

At the words 'Time Lord', the beat in Sam's mind pounded a hundred times louder. ONE TWO THREE FOUR ONE TWO THREE FOUR ONE TWO THREE FOUR ONE TWO THREE FOUR-

"Get it away!" Sam cried hoarsely, throwing the watch on the ground. "I can't, Martha, I can't be around that thing! It's bad! It's evil! I can't let it out!"

"Sam, just hold it, please, just try," said Martha, scooping it up and pressing it into his hands. "Think of the Doctor, if it really is a Time Lord essence in there, if you're really…well, just think. You and him…you could be together forever."

Sam looked down at the watch with new hope. "Together…forever…"

"Thete? Did you really mean it? You and me?"

"Of course, Kos."

"Forever?"

"Yes. Forever."

Sam's finger shakily reached for the button sitting atop the watch's rim…

"Hey! You two-everything alright?" Jack said, running up, looking from Sam to Martha.

"Er, yeah," said Sam, hastily slipping the watch into the pocket of his hoodie. "Everything's fine."

"Well, good. Come on. Everyone's just about on. Let's go check in with the Doctor and Chantho and see how their progress is doing." Jack hurried away.

Sam and Martha shared a look, then followed.

"Chan, everything is running as expected. We should be taking off within the next hour, Captain Harkness, tho," reported the technician.

"Attagirl, Blue," said Jack, squeezing her shoulder affectionately. "Doctor, can we help with anything?"

"No, well…any sign of the TARDIS? This should have been where she landed," said the Doctor.

"Oh, right! Yes, some of the crew found her in the basement," said Jack.

"Excellent! Let's get her up here. Sam, you can come with me to retrieve her." The Doctor said, setting down his work. "The TARDIS can provide extra juice for the rocket, get you to Utopia faster! Oh, but wait…there's something I meant to mention: the footprint engine. It can't be operated from the rocket. You have to be here on the ground to work it."

"Chan, that is correct. Captain Harkness and I are staying behind, tho," said Chantho.

"I told her that she should go and let me launch the rocket, but she insists on staying with me," said Jack, smiling fondly at the alien. Not in a flirtatious way, but in an older brother sort of way.

"Well, not to worry," said the Doctor, smiling. "The two of you are coming with us, on my ship."

"Chan, will it take us to Utopia, tho?" Chantho inquired.

"It'll take you anywhere or anywhen," said the Doctor proudly. "But not unless we go and get it. Come on, Sam. Let's get the TARDIS."

"Doctor," said Sam, as the two of them traveled down and down and down a dizzying spiral staircase to the basements, approximately four hundred feet below the lab facility. Sam thanked his lucky stars they didn't have to walk back up the stairs; the TARDIS could just teleport into the lab.

"Yes, Sam?"

"I…I need to tell you something," said Sam, not sure where to begin. He had to ask about this terrible drum beat in his mind, that had been thumping hard against his brain, ever since he picked up the watch. Should he even mention the watch? What if the Doctor came to the same conclusion that Martha did? That Sam, in fact, was secretly a…Time Lord? What if the Doctor got his hopes up for nothing?

Sam being a Time Lord and getting to be with the Doctor forever? It was simply too perfect. There had to be a hitch.

"Well? What is it?"

Sam then realized that the Doctor was waiting for him to reply. "Oh. Well, it's…I tried to tell you about it once before, back in your old body, right before you and me and Jack were kidnapped and trapped on Satellite Five. You see…I hear this…noise. Inside my head. A drumming. A constant, never-ending drumbeat. One-two-three-four, over and over."

"Really? When did this start?" asked the Doctor, not too concerned.

"Well…when I think about it, I suppose I've heard it all my life. But I never noticed it until…the night I met you. When you blew up my shop. I went home, watched the news, had a bite, then I went to bed. And I…I dreamed about you." Sam blushed.

"Me?"

"Yeah. But the weird thing is, I saw…different versions of you. Not just the Northerner with the big ears. There was a guy in a long scarf, and a really Victorian looking one with long curls…and one with a really heinously colored coat-"

"Hold on," said the Doctor. He'd stopped on the stairs and had turned around to look Sam in the eye. "You saw my past regenerations? All of them?"

"Maybe? I dunno, there could've been more."

"You didn't see one in a greatcoat with whiskers, did you?"

"Er, no. Why?"

"No reason. But still, that's impossible!" the Doctor spluttered.

"I saw the young you too, Doctor," said Sam. "You were just a little boy. You were in a field of red grass, wearing orange robes. You had blue eyes and blonde curls and little freckles on your cheeks."

The Doctor blushed.

"You were called…Theta Sigma," said Sam. "Is that…your real name?"

"No. Well, sort of. It was a nickname my friends and my teachers called me in school," said the Doctor. "But…how could you possibly have seen all that in a dream?"

"I have visions," Sam admitted. "Ever since we met, I've had visions of your past."

"And you can hear psychic impulses, like the Nestene Consciousness," said the Doctor slowly. "And you never see anything projected on the psychic paper. And you withstood the power of the Time Vortex. And you can solve complicated math sequences in your head at lightning speed, even before I've picked up on the pattern…Sam. Do you know what this means?"

Sam's breath caught in his throat, and he had to curl his hands into fists to keep them from thrusting inside his pocket and pulling out the watch. "No," he gulped.

The Doctor's face broke into a grin. "You're psychic! You're pure, untapped, psychic potential! Oh, I always suspected, but I told myself all humans have a low level psychic ability, but you! You're a bloody marvel! My God, with a mind like that…you could practically be a Time Lord!"

"Practically," Sam agreed, forcing a grin.

"Oh, Sam. My lovely, wonderful, brilliant, marvelous Sam." The Doctor kissed his forehead. "Is it any wonder I found you?" He turned around and began almost skipping down the stairs.

"Yer, but the drums, the drums, Doctor," said Sam, following after him. "What about them?"

"Oh, probably just a side effect from disuse of your abilities, that psychic energy, bursting to break free from the confines of your tiny human brain. Never mind that, once this adventure's over, I'll teach you some methods, get you on a mental exercise regimen, so to speak. You've never even tried telepathic sex." The Doctor waggled his eyebrows at him suggestively. "Don't worry, Sam. We'll put those pesky drums to rest, I promise. Oh boy, I can't wait!"

Sam silently followed the Doctor the rest of the 216 feet down the stairs as the Time Lord babbled excitedly on about psychokinetics and telepathy and such. He slipped his hand in his pocket and fingered the watch.

I await you, it whispered.

Chapter 59: Time Lord Rising, Volume 19

Notes:

Chapter based on "Utopia" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 16, 2007 (4/5).
**Warning for cursing.**

Chapter Text

Sam and the Doctor returned in the TARDIS, and hooked up the rocket to give it an extra boost of power. Jack and Martha came in from the commons area. "All civilians loaded up and ready to go," Jack reported. He looked at Chantho. "Blue? What else do we need to do?"

"Chan, all we have to do is connect the couplings. I have instructed Atillo to send in someone to do the job, tho."

"Great! So nothing can stand in our way now," said Sam positively.

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! A loud alarm went off suddenly. The lights flickered off momentarily, then flashed back on in red, like back up power.

The Doctor glared at his companion. "You just had to say something."

"Chan, Captain Harkness, Doctor, the stet radiation levels are rising to a dangerous level, tho!" Chantho exclaimed fearfully.

"What do we do?!" Martha said, panicking.

"Chan, those dials over there, they control the radiation levels. Keep them under red, tho!"

"Right!" Martha dashed over to the controls. She tried desperately to turn back the dials but it was having no effect. "It's not working!"

"Chan, we are losing power! Someone has cut the electricity, tho!"

"What can we do?" Sam said.

"The chamber's going to flood unless we can control the radiation," the Doctor said, desperately inspecting the machinery, but it was pretty pointless without power. "Jack, override the vents!"

Jack yanked two large wires out of the machines. They were sparking in his hands. "I can jump start the override!"

"Jack, what are you doing?!" Sam screamed.

"Jack, don't, it's going to flare-!" But the Doctor was cut off as Jack brought the wires together. Sharp lines of white hot electricity ran through the man, and Jack convulsed and collapsed on the floor.

He was dead.

"Nooooooo!" Sam cried, lunging for the Captain, but the Doctor caught him around the torso. "Doctor, he's-he's d-d-dead!" Sam stammered, bursting into tears.

"Oh my God!" Martha rushed over to perform CPR.

"Martha, don't bother," said the Doctor, but she didn't listen.

"Chan, do not touch the wires, tho!" Chantho carefully picked up the sparking wires and moved them safely away. Martha knelt on the floor next to the dead man and began breathing into his mouth.

Sam was hysterical. "Doctor, what are we going to do? Jack is dead!"

The Doctor seemed strangely unconcerned. He looked at Chantho, who was mildly distressed, compared to Sam and Martha. "The chamber's flooded with radiation, yes?"

Chantho looked momentarily dazed, then slightly shook her head and looked at the Doctor. "Chan, yes. And now that the couplings cannot be connected, the rocket will never take off now. The project has failed, tho."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," said the Doctor. Sam was clinging to him, watching horrorstruck and glassy-eyed as Martha continued to try and bring Jack around. "So, basically, you've got a room which no one can enter without dying, correct?"

"Chan, yes, tho."

"Well…" The Doctor took off his brainy specs. "I think I know just the man for the job."

Sam whipped his head around to glare at the Doctor. "Doctor, now is not the time! What the hell is wrong with you?! Can't you show a little respect for the-"

Suddenly, there was a loud gasp, and Jack's eyes snapped open, struggling for breath.

Martha squeaked with surprise.

Sam stared at the resurrected man in shock. "…dead?" he finished quietly.

Jack coughed. "Was someone kissing me?"

"Jack, I don't understand…how did you…I don't…you were dead!" Sam spluttered in disbelief.

"Yeah. I do that occasionally," Jack replied, drinking weak tea from a Styrofoam cup while Martha rubbed his back.

"But…how did you come back?" Sam asked.

"Long story," said Jack. "I'll tell you all about it sometime. For the meantime…" Jack set his cup aside and stood up. "I believe I have some couplings to connect."

"Yes, you do, the sooner the better," said the Doctor. "Come on. We'll go down to the radiation chamber together."

"I'm coming too," said Martha.

"And me," Sam said, but the Doctor stopped him. "No, Sam," said the Doctor. "I need you to stay, in case we need your help from up here. Can I trust you?"

Sam smiled bitterly. "Yeah, alright."

"Thank you." The Doctor kissed him chastely. "See you."

"Always," said Sam, smiling at their retreating backs.

Once they had left the room, Jack muttered quietly to the Doctor, "How long have you known?"

The Doctor looked at him unhappily. "Since I left you."

Jack shook his head in disgust. "You fucking bastard," he spat.

"I don't get it. He was dead. Stone dead. He was an…ex-Jack," Sam was saying, his arms crossed as he leaned against a control panel. "How did he just-"

"Chan, would you like some tea, Mister Tyler, tho?" Chantho asked timidly, clutching another steaming Styrofoam cup.

"I think I could use it, this has been one hell of a day," said Sam, thankfully taking the tea from her. "I have a bit of a headache. Distract me, please."

"Chan, how, tho?"

"Well, for starters…" Sam looked at her. "Will you tell me how come you say 'chan' in front of every phrase, and 'tho' after?"

Chantho looked surprised. "Chan, it…it is polite, tho," she said.

"What, like…if you didn't, it would be like swearing or something?"

"Chan, indeed, tho," said Chantho.

Sam shrugged. "Well, it's just you and me here. Why don't you give it a go?"

"Chan, oh no, I couldn't, sir, tho!"

"Oh, come on, go ahead. Just for me?" Sam grinned.

Chantho blushed, looked around quickly, then whispered, "…no." She gave a high pitched giggle.

Sam laughed too. "So, how long have you known Jack, then?"

"Chan, only for a few years, tho," said Chantho.

"And you didn't seem too surprised when he Jesused up back there," said Sam. "Does he…do that a lot? Die and come back to life?"

"Chan, yes. The first time I saw it happen, I was so scared. Then he woke up, and I nearly fainted! And every time he dies, I…I fear it will be the final time. Tho."

Sam smiled at her sympathetically. "You love him, Bluey?"

Chantho's cheek areas turned a light magenta. "Chan, I…I adore him. But you cannot tell him, please, I beg; he does not know, tho."

"Your secret's safe with me," Sam vowed.

"When did you first realize?" the Doctor asked.

The Doctor was on the other side of the radiation-proof door, watching Jack connect the couplings through the little glass porthole. Jack was typing in the long code to access the third coupling (the first two had already been done by the previous chap, who'd unfortunately disintegrated with the elevation in radiation levels).

"Earth, 1892," Jack answered. "Got in a fight in Ellis Island. A man shot me through the heart. Then I woke up. Thought it was kind of strange. But then it never stopped." The cap opened. "Fell off a cliff, trampled by horses, World War One, World War Two, poison, starvation…a stray javelin."

At this, the Doctor gave a sympathetic "ooh".

"In the end, I got the message," Jack said. "I'm the man who can never die. And all that time you knew."

"That's why I left you behind," the Doctor said. "It's not easy even just looking at you, Jack, because you're wrong."

"Thanks," Jack snorted flippantly, struggling to unlock the coupling.

"You are. I can't help it. I'm a Time Lord. It's instinct. It's in my guts. You're a fixed point in time and space. You're a fact. That's never meant to happen. Even the TARDIS reacted against you, fleeing off to the basement so you couldn't touch her."

"So what you're saying is that you're, ah-" The coupling finally turned and dropped down to connect with the power grid. "-prejudiced?" Jack gasped, flexing his finger muscles to shake out the stiffness.

The Doctor laughed sheepishly. "I never thought of it like that."

Jack laughed too, but there was a bitter note behind it. "Shame on you," he chided.

"Yeah," sighed the Doctor.

Sam looked up from the dregs of his tea, out into space. "I hope everything's going alright," he said.

"Chan, I can check if you like-oh, I am sorry, tho!" Chantho had knocked into Sam while trying to get at the CCTV, and something fell out of the pocket of Sam's hoodie.

"Chan, here, you dropped this, tho," said Chantho, bending down to pick up the fallen item-the bloody fobwatch.

"Thanks," grimaced Sam, taking the watch. He hated touching it. It made his skin buzz in the most dreadful way.

"Chan, what is wrong, Mister Tyler, tho?" Chantho asked concernedly.

"Oh, nothing, my dear, nothing. It's just…this watch. It's the most peculiar thing. See, the Doctor, he had a watch just like this, that could turn him from human to Time Lord. And now Martha thinks that since I have a watch just like it, I must really be a Time Lord. Rubbish, right?"

"Chan, I do not think it is unreasonable, tho," said Chantho, looking slightly confused, but considerate.

"But Chantho…you don't get it. The Doctor's told me: he's the last of his kind. It's impossible that there could be another Time Lord out in the universe. Especially if that Time Lord was me."

"Chan, but how can you be sure, tho?"

Sam didn't quite have an answer for that. He traced his thumb over the knob at the top.

A sinister laugh echoed from the watch into his own head, and a voice was calling, Destroy him! And you will give your power to me! The voices were from the familiar characters in his visions, and they made Sam's toes curl in terror, his blood curdle.

"Last thing I remember, back when I was mortal, I was facing three Daleks. Death by extermination. And then I came back to life. What happened?" Jack asked the Doctor.

The Doctor smiled ruefully. "Sam."

"How?"

"Opened the heart of the TARDIS and absorbed the Time Vortex itself."

"What does that mean, exactly?" Jack asked.

"No one's ever meant to have that power," the Doctor stated flatly. "If a Time Lord did that, he'd become a god. A vengeful god. But he was human…everything he did was so human. He brought you back to life but he couldn't control it. He brought you back forever. That's something, I suppose." The Doctor smiled, slightly proud of his amazing little human. "The final act of the Time War was life."

"I take it he can't change me back," said Jack.

"I took the power of him," the Doctor said. "It was going to burn him alive."

"You know, it's the strangest thing, Doctor," panted Jack. The radiation was taking its toll on his strength, draining him. "I did a stint in London, in the 1970s, maybe the eighties, I'm not sure. Had some close brushes with your UNIT buddies, by the way. Yeah. I know you worked with them. I looked up Sam Tyler-I couldn't find him."

"Well, I imagine it would've been hard to track him down. He was a foster child," said the Doctor.

"No, that's the thing. Sam's what, 36, 37 years old? So he must've been born in the early '70s. But according to public records, there was no such person as 'Sam Tyler' till the year 2000. Weird, right?"

"That…that can't be right," said the Doctor dismissively.

Behind him, Martha was listening to the conversation, biting her lip, resisting the urge to blurt out the truth.

"Chan, these markings," said Chantho, indicating the spirographs etched into the surface of the watch. "What are they, tho?"

"Rassilonate Gallifreyan," Sam murmured. "The language of the Time Lords. This bit here, for example…" He lightly traced a small circle in the design. "It means…well, it doesn't directly translate into English. But the closest phrase is…'all is not what it seems'."

"Chan, did the Doctor teach you that, tho?"

"No…I…I just could read it," Sam said, his voice catching. "Holy…I can read Gallifreyan. This big series of rings over here…that's my name."

"Chan, 'Sam Tyler', tho?"

"No, no, my real, given name. It's been so long since anyone's…I'd forgotten. I guess that's what living as many centuries as I have will do to you. It makes you forget…" Sam's voice trailed off. "Oh God…"

His hands were shaking. There were tears welling up in his eyes again.

"I am a Time Lord," he breathed.

Suddenly, an alert chimed from the controls. "Chan, the Doctor and Jack have finished connecting the couplings! I must turn on the footprint engine now, tho!"

As the little blue scientist rushed away, Sam stood frozen, transfixed on the round, bronze object in his hand. Its surface seemed to be almost humming with energy, all Sam's nerves were a-quiver, and the drums had never been more intense.

It is time, the watch whispered.

Sam shut his eyes tight, a teardrop leaking from his eyelashes. Then he opened them. He set his finger on top of the button…

…and pushed.

The watch opened.

"Doctor, there's something I have to tell you," Martha blurted.

"Jack, get out of there!" The Doctor turned from the window to look at his young companion. "What is it, Martha?"

Martha licked her lips nervously. "It's about Sam."

"Chan, two minutes to ignition, tho!" Chantho cried from across the room.

Golden energy spiraled out of the watch's face into Sam's eyes and his skin and his very soul, and he cried out sharply as every strand of his DNA ripped itself apart and began knitting itself back together. He feel his heart moving over to make room as his body grew another one. His brain surged with memories and intellect he never thought possible. All at once he could see the entire pantheon of time and space, stretching apart and rubbing together and blending in a never-ending hurricane of cause and effect. And it was all in an instant.

Sam collapsed on the floor.

"-he's got this watch, he's got a fob watch. It's the same as yours. Same writing on it, same everything!"

The Doctor stared at Martha in horror. "Don't be ridiculous," he whispered hoarsely.

"I asked him. He said it was…'calling to him'," Martha swallowed.

"So he's got the same watch," Jack called nonchalantly from across the room.

"Yeah, but it's not a watch. It's this…chameleon thing," Martha struggled to explain.

"No, no, no, it's this, this thing, this device, it rewrites biology. Changes a Time Lord into a human," the Doctor corrected, gnashing his teeth together, trying to focus on getting this rocket airbourne, and not the possibility that his lover and best friend may not be all he seemed.

"And it's the same watch," Martha insisted.

"It can't be," said the Doctor stubbornly.

"That means Sam could be a Time Lord. You might not be the last one!" Jack exclaimed. An alarm went off.

"Jack, keep it level!" the Doctor shouted at him.

"Think what the Face of Boe said, Doctor," Martha pressed. "His dying words. He said-"

The counter had reached 'one'. The Doctor turned the keys in the ignition, and the boosters of the rocket lit up. The whole station shook, and the rocket took flight, shooting into the stars. The refugees were safe.

"Chan, Mister Tyler?" said Chantho, creeping over to the prone man cautiously. "Are you unwell, tho?"

He carefully raised himself up, facing away from her. He cracked his neck to the right, then to the left. Then, swiftly, he turned to look at her.

Chantho was immediately struck by how cold his eyes had turned. They seemed to crackle with electricity and darkness. There was something hypnotic and frightening about his gaze. Chantho was a woman of science, had never invested in any spiritual belief of any kind. But right now, the only noun she could come up with to describe the man before her…was a demon.

The not-Sam smiled cruelly at her. "Never better," he murmured.

Chapter 60: Time Lord Rising, Volume 20

Notes:

Chapter based on "Utopia" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 16, 2007 (5/5).

Chapter Text

"He was a friend of mine once. A very good friend. You might almost say we were at school together..." –The Third Doctor

"Lieutenant, have you done it?" the Doctor shouted into the phone, en communicado with the rocket. "Did you get velocity?"

The Doctor was met with only static.

"Have you done it? Lieutenant, have you done it?!" the Doctor cried urgently.

Finally, he heard the lieutenant, Atillo, answer with a crackle. Affirmative. We'll see you in Utopia.

"Good luck." The Doctor slammed the receiver down and took off for the laboratory, with Martha and Jack in tow.

I've got to get to Sam. Before he opens that watch. Before it's too late!

It was too late.

Not-Sam brushed past Chantho and yanked down on a lever on the controls. "Chan, Mister Tyler…you have locked them in, tho," said the technician.

"Yes, I know." The man's voice had lost its rough Cockney edge. His diction was now clear, smooth, and refined. "All the better to keep them out of my way. But not to worry, my dear." Not-Sam smiled at her again with those terrible, cold eyes. "As one door closes…another must open." He pulled down another switch-the one that, Chantho realized, would open the outer gates, letting in the Futurekind.

"Chan, you must stop, tho!" Chantho panicked. She had no idea what was going on. She didn't know how the man suddenly knew how to work all the controls. Or why he was locking the others out, leaving them to the mercy of the cannibals. Not-Sam continued calmly bustling about the controls, powering down the systems. "Chan, but you've lowered the defenses. The Futurekind will get in, tho!"

"Oh, the Doctor'll find a way to save them. He always does," said Not-Sam nonchalantly. "You, on the other hand, won't be so lucky."

Chantho quivered in fear as Not-Sam picked up one of the sparking wires, the dangerous end pointed directly at her. "Chan, please, tho!"

"Very sorry to do this, Chantho," said Not-Sam placidly. "You're such a nice little insect. But do you know what happens to insects when they come too close to electricity?"

Chantho screamed as the man jabbed the wire at her. She convulsed several times, then fell on the floor, unconscious.

"They get zapped," Not-Sam finished.

The Doctor finally managed to sonic the bulkhead open, and now the trio was sprinting for the lab. The Futurekind, however, were hot on their heels.

The Doctor could feel a familiar tingling, a dull buzzing in the back of his mind. The echo of another Time Lord's mind reflected in his own. Another Time Lord mind was present here.

No. No, no, no, no...hold on, Sam!

Not-Sam walked across the room and picked up Jack's jar with the Doctor's hand in it. "I should take this with me. Sample of the Doctor's DNA, sure to come in handy. Get it? Handy!" He cracked up laughing. "Oh, I didn't realize this regeneration was so punny!" He laughed harder.

Not-Sam heard banging outside from right outside the lab. "SAM!" It was the Doctor. "Sam, let me in! Can you hear me?! Don't do anything rash!"

As the Doctor continued knocking and calling, Not-Sam came over to the NAV-computer, and pulled out a data disk from the drive. He snorted at it. "'Utopia'." Now the rocket would never reach its destination…if it even had one to begin with.

"SAM!"

There was one last thing to do. Not-Sam went over to the ajar doors of the TARDIS and began disconnecting the extension cord plugged into the TARDIS's back up power. He didn't notice Chantho's body stirring behind him. The electric shock hadn't quite killed her.

Chantho reached into the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a small laser gun. She shakily held it in her hand and took aim for Not-Sam's head.

Luckily, at just the right moment, Not-Sam bent over, and her shot just barely missed him. Her life force diminished, Chantho collapsed.

Not-Sam whipped around to look at her in surprise. "You weren't dead all the way! You almost made me regenerate, naughty girl." He came over to inspect her cadaver, nudged the weapon in her hand with his foot. "One-time shot. Good thing you missed, though. I've barely begun to have any fun in this body! And believe me, I do plan to have some fun. Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee!"

Not-Sam made his way back to the ship and was about to climb inside; he was standing on the threshold when the door to the lab burst open. The Doctor came running inside, looking like a madman. He stared at Not-Sam, wide-eyed.

Not-Sam grinned at him, winked, then hopped inside the TARDIS, hurriedly locking the door behind him.

"No!" The Doctor grabbed the door handle and shook it. He pounded his fists on the wood of the door. "Let me in! Sam, let me in!"

Not-Sam strode over to the TARDIS console. He wiped the pad of his thumb on the fabric of his hoodie before pressing it against the Rassilon Imprintur, imposing his psychic signature to the ship. The TARDIS psychically whimpered as it gave in to him, and came under his control.

"That's right," cooed Not-Sam, running his hand along the lip of the console's edge. "You're going to be a good ship now, aren't you? No more trying to electrocute me, no ma'am!"

Outside, the Doctor had given up trying to unlock the door with his key, and was now trying to sonic it. "Oh no, you don't!" called Not-Sam gleefully, pulling down a lever. He hit a button on the console that would project his voice to the outside. "Deadlocked, my dear Doctor! Told you that silly sonic screwdriver was useless."

"Let me in! Please, just listen to me!" the Doctor shouted. "I'm begging you. Everything's changed! It's only the two of us! We're the only ones left! Just let me in!"

"Ooh, yes, maybe I should, that way we can have a nice little chat while I tell you all my plans and you can work out a way to stop me, I don't think!" Not-Sam called back mockingly.

"I'm asking you really properly, just stop! Just think!" the Doctor pled.

"Oh, Doctor, you always sound so lovely when you beg," smirked Not-Sam. "But you've forgotten one teensy little detail, haven't you?...Use my name, Doctor."

"Sam Ty-"

"MY REAL NAME!" roared Not-Sam. "Or have you not figured it out yet?! I mean, really?! It was so bloody obvious! I practically spelled it out for you! But then again, you always were rubbish at seeing through my disguises."

The Doctor already knew who it was. He didn't want to believe it, but the other Time Lord's mind was rubbing at his, and like a old man remembers his lessons from school, the Doctor knew that psychic touch, like the touch of an estranged lover on one's skin. Unmistakable and thrilling.

"Master," he whispered.

On the other side of the doors, the Master smiled cruelly. "Good boy."

"Master," said the Doctor again, tears welling up in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

You will never be sorry enough, Theta. "Tough!" The Master hit a few more controls, and the TARDIS began dematerializing. He cackled madly, finally triumphant.

Suddenly, the console sparked and the time rotor began slowing down. The Doctor-he was doing something to the coordinates with his screwdriver. "Oh no you don't!" the Master called again. He slammed down on a lever, and the rotor started pumping again. The Master looked up. "End of the universe!" he shouted. "Have fun!...bye-bye!"

The TARDIS faded out, leaving the Doctor and his little friends behind.

The Master quickly realized that the Doctor had programmed the TARDIS to only land in two places-Malcassairo, or the place it had been prior to that, 21st century England. The Master would have preferred, oh, I don't know, literally any other time and place…but it would do. Besides, getting to wreak havoc on the Doctor's pet planet? What fun!

The Master was disgusted with him. "I can't believe it. I can't believe I was that twit's…monkey boy for three years!" he muttered angrily, stripping off the blasted hoodie and discarding it in a corner carelessly. "Blegh! I need a shower. Have to wash this human stench off of me."

The Master actually ended up taking four showers before he finally felt clean and properly Gallifreyan again. As for Sam Tyler's civvies…he burned them. Threw them right into the Doctor's pizza oven.

"I'll teach him to try and make a pet out of me," the Master muttered to himself as he stalked down the hallway, still damp and clothed only in a towel, to the wardrobe.

The Doctor's wardrobe was a shambles. Honestly, the man had no sense of organization whatsoever. The Master wandered around for nearly an hour, browsing through the miles and miles of clothing.

It was a bit like taking a walk down memory lane. The Master saw a black bomber jacket littered with pins that said in snazzy red and yellow cursive letters embroidered on the back, "Ace". He found a pair of bright yellow go-go boots he could have sworn belonged to Jo Grant once. A red floppy newsboy-style hat that had the name "Dodo" written on the inner lining.

And that didn't even compare with the amount of clothing he found that had belonged to the Doctor himself. He found the Seventh Doctor's question mark jumper (that joined his human clothes in the pizza oven), an ugly pair of plaid trousers (that the Master couldn't even bring himself to pick up to throw away) belonging to the Doctor's second self, the Sixth Doctor's infamous circus tent coat (this was getting ridiculous), a ruffled shirt that had belonged to the Third Doctor, the First Doctor's cane (which the Master discovered was actually a sonic device), and one of the Fourth Doctor's iconic long scarves, which the Master nearly tripped over and broke his neck on.

For funsies, the Master decided to try on the Fifth Doctor's beige coat with its jaunty red piping (at least it was missing that God awful celery). He looked at himself in the mirror. He contorted his face into a proper pout. "Master," he said, imitating that squeaky voice, "you cannot do this! It's completely unethical!"

Then the Master mimed stroking a beard and said in a much deeper, purring voice, "Well, my dear Doctor, what do you propose to do to stop me?"

"Oh, Master, I'll do anything!" the Master said in his falsetto, batting his eyelashes. Then he dropped a voice a little. "And I do mean anything."

The Master looked at himself in the mirror again and laughed, putting his hands on his hips (meanwhile noting to himself that beige was definitely not this regeneration's color, drained him). As he did so, his hand brushed a soft bulge in his coat pocket.

"Hmm?" The Master reached inside and pulled out a balled up pair of familiar-looking black gloves. "Well, would you look at that?" he chucked evilly, sliding his hands into the old things. "The old fool was feeling sentimental! Rightly so, considering how the little bastard was willing to let me burn to a crisp."

The Master briefly considered wearing the gloves as part of his ensemble for this regeneration, but decided against it, replacing them back inside the coat. "A little too melodramatic, even for me! No, this regeneration is going for a nice, simple, black suit. If I can find one in this damned machine."

But eventually, the Master did manage to find a plain black suit in all the hubbub. It wasn't Armani or anything particularly nice, but it would do.

"Looking sharp, Mister Master!" said the Time Lord, preening in front of the full length mirror. "If I may say so. Well, I think it's time I got out of this rickety old machine! Ho boy, do I need a haircut!"

But as soon as the Master stepped out of the TARDIS, he found himself face to face with a human woman in a police officer's uniform, with reddish brown hair. "Sammy," she said, sounding relieved.

The Master squinted at her scathingly. "Who the hell are you," he said flatly and disinterestedly. He didn't have time to deal with stupid Earth bitches.

The woman's face fell. "I'm your girlfriend, Sammy. Annie, remember?"

The Master did recognize her. "Oh yeah. You. The girl he, well, I, was dating, before the fool let himself get buggered up the arse."

"Did the TARDIS move?" said Annie, looking at the ship confusedly. "It was just out front of the Powell Estates."

"Sorry, what?"

"You know…the Doctor sent you away, to save you, and then you and I went to the diner to get some lunch, and you stormed out angrily. It was only ten minutes ago."

Then the Master realized what happened. The TARDIS must've come to the same day that "Sam Tyler" had been sent back home by the Ninth Doctor, who was back on Satellite 5 with the Daleks. "Oh yeah. Huh. Weird."

"Sammy, are you alright? You seem different," said Annie, cocking her head to the side.

"Well, little girl, I am different," said the Master, stepping out of the TARDIS, showing off his suit. "In fact, you might say…I'm a whole new man."

"Okay, 'whole new man'," said Annie, rolling her eyes amusedly. "Who are you supposed to be then?"

The Time Lord stared deep into her eyes, reaching out into her mind and taking control of it. "I am the Master. And you will obey me."

The police woman's eyes glazed over, her face taking that familiar blank expression. Ah, humans. They were so easy to hypnotize, it almost wasn't any fun. "Now, little girl," said the Master. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes, Master," breathed Annie, completely entranced.

"Very good. Now, here's what I want you to do. Go and requisition a big truck and some chains. Then go find the Sam Tyler from your timeline. He'll be in the TARDIS in the regular place from before. Then, I want you to go and help him open the heart of the TARDIS, so he can get back to the Doctor. Can't have any timelines being disrupted now, can we? Not if I'm to take over this wretched planet, somehow. Then, at the Battle of Canary Wharf, you'll meet a man named Mickey Smith. I want you to go back to his universe with him, and stay there. You got all that?"

"Yes, Master."

"Very good. And when I snap my fingers, you're going to leave this place and forget all about seeing me. Understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good girl. Ready? One…two…three." The Master snapped his fingers.

Annie blinked once, twice, then turned around and got in her patrol car and drove away.

The Master chuckled to himself. "This is going to be too easy. But fun."

Chapter 61: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 1

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Sound Of Drums" by Russell T Davies, original air date: June 23, 2007 (1/?).
*This story is now caught up with its fanfiction.net beta version and will (hopefully) have regular, more frequent updates of singular chapters at a time.

Chapter Text

Eighteen months later…

In a back alley in London, four figures appeared out of seemingly nowhere.

They were all groaning. "Ah, my head," moaned Martha Jones, leaning against a wall for support.

"Mmmm," groaned the Doctor, hunched over. He painstakingly stood up. "Time travel without a capsule, that's a killer!"

The third, Captain Jack Harkness, was supporting a figure clothed in a tarp as they exited the alley and walked out onto the main street. "Still…at least we made it. Earth, 21st century by the look of it." He chuckled. "Talk about lucky."

"That wasn't luck," said the Doctor, his face set in stone as he marched along, hands in his pockets. "That was me."

A few moments earlier (billions of years in the future)…

"Hold it still! Don't move!" The Doctor was frantically trying to sonic Jack's Vortex Manipulator. "Hold still!"

"Doctor, I'm not sure this will work-!" Jack exclaimed, the figure draped in cloth under his arm and he and Martha were struggling to hold back the masses of Futurekind.

"Hold on, everyone!" The Doctor typed in coordinates into Jack's device. "NOW!"

The foursome flashed out.

Presently.

The cloaked figure beside Jack whimpered softly. "Don't worry," Jack whispered to the figure. "The pain will go away soon."

"She needs rest. Let's sit down here," said the Doctor, as the four of them sat at a cluster of concrete benches.

"The moral of the story is, if you're gonna get stuck at the end of the universe, get stuck with an ex-Time Agent and his Vortex Manipulator," said Jack, as the cloaked figure leaned on him for support.

"But I don't understand-why did Sam take the TARDIS?" said Martha. "Why did he leave us there to die?"

"Because he's not Sam. Not anymore," said the Doctor darkly.

"Then who is he?" said Martha.

The Doctor sighed. "His name, well, his title is…the Master."

"Kinky," snickered Jack.

"It's not a joke," said the Doctor. "This is bad, very bad."

"But…this Master bloke…he's still Sam, isn't he?" Martha just wasn't getting it.

"About as much as I was John Smith. There never was a Sam Tyler, don't you get it, Sam Tyler was a cover, Sam Tyler…" The Doctor smacked himself in the face, groaning. "…is an anagram for masterly. 'Practically spelled it out for me'. Oh, brilliant, Doctor, just brilliant. No wonder he was always calling you an idiot."

Martha could tell all this was upsetting the Doctor, so she said, "But he's got the TARDIS. He could be anywhere in time and space."

"No, he's here," said the Doctor distractedly as he looked around. "Trust me." Something was…off.

He spied a homeless man sitting against a wall off a ways. He had his tin beggar's cup in one hand and a coin in the other. And he was tapping them together. In a steady sequence of four. From his thousand yard stare, it was almost like he was in a trance.

What are you up to, Koschei? the Doctor wondered.

"Where can he be?" Martha said. "He could be hiding anywhere. Sam-the Master-he's not exactly the type to stand out. Very fade-into-the-woodwork, that one."

"Oh, not the Master," said the Doctor. "Sam, sure. It was all a part of the illusion. But the Master…I know his style. He likes making a splash."

As if on cue, a newsreader announced from a large screen placed in the square: "Mister Saxon has returned from the Palace and is greeting the crowd inside Saxon Headquarters." People were watching, clapping.

Saxon.

"We missed the election," said Martha.

The Doctor stood up, staring at the screen in horror. "No," he breathed.

"What?...oh, Doctor, you don't suppose…"

They all turned to look at the screen to see the camera focused on a pair giving a press conference. One was a blonde woman in a black and pale pink jacket and skirt ensemble. The other…

…was Sam.

"Oh no," said Martha, her heart dropping. "Doctor-!"

"I see him," said the Doctor.

"Doctor, the Master is Prime Minister of Great Britain," said Jack.

"Excellent, well done, Jack, way to state the obvious!" the Doctor snapped.

Onscreen, the paparazzi were swarming the Prime Minister and the woman. "Come on, Mr. Saxon, kiss for the lady!" coaxed a photographer.

The Master, smiling for the camera, leant in and gave the blonde woman an open-mouthed kiss.

"The Master and his wife!" the Doctor added, his voice betraying disbelief.

The Master stepped up to the podium. He was dressed in a smart suit, and his shaggy hair was now neatly manicured and combed straight atop his head. "He cleans up nicely, I'll give him that," muttered Martha.

"This country," the Master began, and the gang noticed that he'd lost his Cockney accent, and his voice had faded into something more intelligent-sounding and dignified. "Has been sick," the Master continued. "The country needs healing. This country needs medicine."

The Doctor felt a wave of nausea rise up in his stomach.

"In fact, I'd go so far as to say…that what this country really needs…right now…" The Master turned his eyes to the camera and smirked, as if he could see the Doctor looking back at him right now. "…is a doctor."

The Doctor stood there as the people around them clapped for the Prime Minister's words. "Doctor, he's calling you out," said Jack.

"Yeah, he is," said the Doctor numbly. Then he leapt into animation. "But right now we need to get out of here and do some reconnaissance, read up on this 'Mister Saxon'. Anyway, it's not safe out here for us, someone might see Chantho and make a scene."

The hooded figure stood up from the bench and looked into the face of the Doctor. "Chan, where can we go, tho?" asked the blue, insect-like technician in a fearful whisper.

"My place," said Martha decisively. "We'll be safe there, and we can read up on Saxon."

"Lead the way."

Once they were in Martha's home, Chantho laid down on Martha's couch to rest (being nearly electrocuted can be quite draining), and the Doctor and Jack looked up Harold Saxon.

"I can't believe he used the name of his own doppelganger as his alias, it's so unoriginal!" the Doctor said.

"Doppelganger?" said Jack.

"Long story," said the Doctor, waving his hand away. "No time."

"It's so weird though," said Martha. "It's the day after the election. That's only four days after I met you."

"We went flying around the universe while he was here all the time," groaned the Doctor, beating himself up mentally.

"Okay, so he was masquerading as your human companion for nearly three years. But you obviously knew this Master person before then," said Martha to the Doctor. "You gonna tell us who he is?"

"He's a Time Lord," said the Doctor.

"Yeah, obviously, but what about the rest of it? I mean, who calls themself the Master, anyway?!" Martha exclaimed.

"Who calls themself 'the Master' anyway?" Theta teased Koschei.

Koschei glared at him. "I do. Listen, Thete, my parents and our teachers all have it in their minds that I'm going to grow up and become just another cog in the Gallifreyan politics machine. Well, I'm not."

"Then what are you going to do?" Theta asked, raising his eyebrow, smirking. As if he didn't know.

Koschei raised an eyebrow right back at him, pushed him back onto the bed, and leant over him, his lips ghosting over Theta's. "I'm going to be the Master of my own destiny, travelling the stars and shagging your brains out on every celestial body we land on."

"Well, why don't you give me a sneak preview…Master." Theta's voice dropped an octave, its resonance laced with sex, and Koschei kissed him hard.

"That's all you need to know! Come on, show me Harold Saxon!" the Doctor prompted Jack, who was furiously researching on the computer.

Martha, where are you? Martha's sister's voice came out of Martha's answering machine. I've got this new job. You won't believe it. It's weird. They just phoned me up out of the blue. I'm working for-

"Oh, like it matters!" Martha groaned, turning the machine off.

On Harold Saxon's official website, they found promotional videos for Saxon's campaign. "Ann Widcombe!" said Martha, impressed. "Our boy does like to make a splash."

"Former Minister of Defense. He shot down a spaceship-on Christmas Eve?" Jack turned to look at the Doctor expectantly. "Wasn't that when you lost your hand?"

"Yeah," said the Doctor amazedly. "The Sycorax…I had just regenerated! And he was there, with me."

"He was two places at the same time?" Martha said.

"Time travel, remember?" said the Doctor. "But I thought it was Torchwood that shot down the Sycorax."

"Guess he was heading them up," said Jack.

"And he was with me then, too, at Canary Wharf. And on the next Christmas Eve with Donna and the Racnoss! My God, he was orchestrating all of this all along!"

"I guess 'Master''s short for 'Puppetmaster' then," joked Martha weakly.

"His story goes back for years," said Jack. "Look, Cambridge University, Rugby blue. Won the Athletics thing. Wrote a novel, went into business, marriage, everything. He's got a whole life."

"All fake, of course," said the Doctor. "Jack…can you look up 'Sam Tyler'?"

"No problem," said Jack, setting to typing.

"Chan, Doctor, tho?" Chantho had risen from the couch.

"Ah, yes, you, you were the next thing on my agenda," said the Doctor, pulling out his sonic. "We need to disguise you, or your appearance'll cause an uproar. Here…" He sonicked the alien, and after a moment, her appearance shifted.

Martha stared in amazement. "How'd you do that?"

"Shimmer effect, it's a schoolboy trick. Chantho, how do you feel?"

"Chan…queer, tho." Chantho now looked like a human woman, a pretty Asian-British lady with shoulder length jet black hair and almond shaped eyes. Even her voice had been modulated.

"And you're going to have to drop the 'chan' and 'tho', it's a big giveaway," said the Doctor, turning back to the monitor.

Chantho looked at Martha. "Ch-I mean…am I…like you now?"

"Well…you look human," said Martha, still a bit taken off guard by Chantho's metamorphosis.

Chantho held out her own hands in front of her and studied the backs of them. "How strange this is…you humanoids have so many fingers."

"They come in handy," said Martha. "Er…no pun intended."

"Doctor," said Jack. "Sam…he's been erased. Completely. It's like he never existed. Even checked Driveshaft's fan pages-his name's been replaced. Someone else is listed as drummer now."

"Just like I thought. The Master got rid of his old identity to make way for the new one," said the Doctor. "Now it's like Sam never was."

"Listen, Doctor, maybe you got your wires crossed. Maybe you actually sent the Master back decades, and he's made a life here," Jack suggested.

"No, you don't know him. He wouldn't wait that long. No, my guess is mind control. It's the Master's favorite parlor trick. The longest the TARDIS could've been here with him is…a year and a half, tops, which is plenty of time for the Master to worm his way into the British bureaucracy. But how could the entire English populace fall under his spell? The Master's…well, a master hypnotist, but even he's not that good. Martha," said the Doctor, turning to his companion. "Didn't you ever once realize Sam and Harold Saxon looked alike?"

Martha shrugged, idly drumming her fingers on the coffee table. "I didn't notice…not until you called my attention to it."

"Your attention…oh, of course!" The Doctor clapped his hand to his forehead. "A perception filter!"

"A what?" said Martha.

"It's a device that literally alters your perception of reality. Remember, like on my fobwatch? It kept me from seeing it for what it truly was. And the Master's watch had one too. Makes you ignore things that are right in front of you-Martha, can you stop that?"

"Stop what?" said Martha, still wrapping her fingernails against the wood of the table.

"That drumming!" said the Doctor.

"Hmm?" Martha then realized what she doing-almost as if breaking free of a trance. "Oh! Sorry. Didn't even-"

"-notice you were doing it," said the Doctor. "It's got to be a perception filter. And that drumming is part of it. Sam mentioned some drumming to me before he changed-"

"What, this?" Martha tapped the sequence of four on the table questioningly. "It's just a nervous tic," she said.

"There was a man in the square, a beggar…he had the same nervous tic as you," said the Doctor.

Martha looked worried. "You mean…he's in my head?" she whispered.

"He's in all our heads," said the Doctor. "I've been here too, I didn't notice him either."

"I was gonna vote for him," said Martha, horrified.

"Martha, do you remember anything about him?" the Doctor said. "What were his policies? What did he stand for?"

"I…can't remember. I just…liked the way he sounded," said Martha, distressedly.

"That's what it feels like, when you're hypnotized. Like you're relaxed…warm…safe. Like all you ever want to do ever again is listen to the sound of your entrancer's voice."

"That…is how it felt," Martha said. She shuddered. "Oh God, he's in my head, he's in my head-!"

"It's alright, Martha, you're alright," said the Doctor. "Now that you know he's there, he can't control you anymore."

Martha looked at him, shaking. "Are you sure?" she whispered.

"Yes. Positively."

Martha looked down at her hands. "And to think he was my friend," she muttered in disgust.

Now you understand how I feel, thought the Doctor sadly.

"But how, Doctor. How is Sa-the Master doing it? Getting in our heads? You said he's not a good enough hypnotist to control all of Britain," Jack pressed.

"There must be a device-"

Suddenly, a pop-up appeared on the computer screen. SAXON BROADCAST-ALL CHANNELS.

"Our lord and Master is speaking to his kingdom," said the Doctor, grabbing the remote to Martha's television and switching it on.

"Harold Saxon" was on the screen, sitting behind a desk, completely at home, as if he belonged there-was meant to rule. He shook his head gravely, his fingers interlaced in front of him. "Britain, Britain, Britain," he sighed. Despite his serious manner, the Doctor could see a slip of a smirk on his lip. "What extraordinary times we've had. Just a few years ago, this world was so small. And then, they came. Out of the unknown, falling from the skies. You've seen it happen-Big Ben destroyed. A spaceship over London. All those ghosts and metal men. The Christmas star that came to kill. Time and time again."

And you were there for every single one. Oh, how could I have been so stupid, the Doctor asked himself yet again.

"And the government told you nothing," the Master continued. "Well not me. Not Harold Saxon. Because my purpose here, today, is to tell you this. Citizens of Great Britain: I have been contacted. A message for humanity, from among the stars."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. What was the Master up to?

Suddenly, the image switched to an obscured feed of a spherical object. "People of the Earth," said a sweet, childlike voice, and the viewers realized the voice was coming from the sphere-it was alive. "We come in peace," said the sphere. "We bring great gifts. We bring technology and wisdom and protection. And all we ask in return is your friendship."

"Ooh. Sweet," cooed the Master. "And this species has identified itself. They're called…the Toclafane."

"What?!" the Doctor burst.

"And tomorrow, they will appear," the Master continued. "Not in secret, but to all of you. Diplomatic relations with a new species will begin. Tomorrow, we take our place in the universe. Every man, woman, and child. Every teacher. And chemist. And lorry driver. And farmer. Oh, I don't know. Every…" The Master grinned wickedly. "Medical student?"

Their eyes widened and they all looked at Martha. Then the Doctor grabbed the television set and checked the back of it.

Beep-beep-beep-beep. There was a bomb!

"Everyone out!" The Doctor rushed Martha, Jack, and Chantho out, grabbing his long overcoat on the way out. The bomb began to chirrup at a higher pitch and tempo.

The foursome had just barely gotten out when Martha's apartment exploded. The street shook and rubble flew everywhere. Jets of flame shot out of the windows. People around them were screaming and running for cover.

"That's how we met. Me and the Master, when he was human. We were in a shop and it was overrun with Autons and I blew up the shop," panted the Doctor. "He's mocking me."

Chapter 62: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 2

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Sound Of Drums" by Russell T Davies, original air date: June 23, 2007 (2/?).
*Master/Koschei #2 is Jared C. Gilmore.

Chapter Text

Koschei emerged from the waters of the River Lethe, coughing and sputtering.

Torvic, still holding onto the scruff of his neck, laughed menacingly. "What's the matter, Oakdown? No respiratory bypass?"

Torvic knew perfectly well Koschei didn't possess that ability yet. It would come in after Koschei's first regeneration. Torvic had already regenerated once himself.

"Let me go!" Koschei coughed, gagging.

"Let me go, sir," jeered Torvic, pushing his head back under the water. Koschei gurgled helplessly and struggled against him, but to no avail.

Koschei gasped when Torvic pulled him back up. "Say it!" Torvic ordered.

"N-no!" Koschei barely had enough time to catch his breath before he was submerged again.

After exactly thirty seven and .03 seconds, Koschei realized Torvic wasn't letting up. The precious pockets of air were escaping his lungs faster and faster. Koschei fought against him desperately. Up above, he could hear the distorted sound of Torvic laughing.

Holy Rassilon, he's mad! He's trying to drown me! Koschei thought, panicking.

It was getting harder and harder to move. His vision was growing dark, and his higher brain functions were shutting down. This is it, Koschei told himself. I'm dying. I won't ever see my family again. Or Theta. Theta, my dearest, my darling one, my own…goodbye, my love.

Koschei's eyes closed, and he went very, very still.

"Everyone alright?" the Doctor called to his mates over the din in the streets.

"Fine, yeah, fine," said Jack, trying to catch his breath.

"Ch-I mean, yes. I am alright," replied Chantho.

Martha didn't answer. She was pulling out her mobile and punching in numbers. "Martha, what are you doing?!" the Doctor shouted.

"I let the Master into my home, and now he's tried to blow me up. He's met my family, he might be going after them next!"

"Don't tell them anything!" the Doctor urged.

Martha whipped around, her eyes flashing. "I'll do what I like," she exclaimed, spitting mad. She put the phone to her ear. After a moment, a look of relief crossed her face. "Mum! Oh thank God, you're there."

As Martha talked to her mother over the phone, Jack looked at the Doctor. "This must be hard for you," he said.

"Not now," said the Doctor.

"But-"

"I said." There was a dangerous note in the Doctor's voice. "Not now."

"Dad? Just say yes, or no," Martha was saying on the phone. "Is there someone else with you?"

There was a tense moment of waiting for the reply, then loud shouting over the phone. The Doctor presumed the answer was yes.

"Dad?! What's going on? Dad!" Martha cried into the phone fearfully. She ran over to her traveling partners and said, "We've got to help them!"

"That's exactly what he wants! It's a trap!" the Doctor said as Martha rushed over to her car.

"I don't care!" Martha screeched at him, angry, scared tears welling up in her eyes. She threw herself into the car, and the Doctor, Jack, and Chantho had no choice but to follow suit.

In the car, Martha called her sister, but apparently, she was being apprehended as well. "It's your fault, it's all your fault!" she screamed angrily at the Doctor.

The Doctor said nothing.

The car pulled up to the Joneses' house, where Martha's parents were being forced into a black Saxon van. A woman in a black business suit directed a small battalion of shooters to take aim at Martha's car. "Martha, reverse," the Doctor said.

The guard prepared to fire.

"Get out, now!" the Doctor called.

"Chantho, duck!" Jack exclaimed, coaxing the alien down and covering her with himself.

Martha quickly maneuvered the car as the bullets began to fly. One of them shattered the rear window and scattered shards of glass all over Jack's back.

"'The only place he can go is planet Earth'," Martha griped as they sped away. "Great!"

"Martha, listen to me, do as I say," said Jack. "We've got to ditch this car. Pull over. Now!" There was no friendliness in his tone. He was all Captain Harkness now.

They parked in a dark tunnel by a park. It had begun to rain. Martha was calling her brother. "Leo!" she said, relieved, when he picked up. "Oh, thank God. You've got to listen to me. Where are you?"

Chantho tapped Jack on the shoulder. "Will we be safe from this Saxon man?"

"For the time being…I hope," said Jack.

"Leo, just listen to me. Don't go home. I'm telling you. Don't phone Mum or Dad or Tish. You've got to hide…on my life, you've got to trust me. Go to Boxer's. Stay with him. Don't tell anyone. Just hide!"

Suddenly, Martha froze, stricken. "Let them go," she said. "Do you hear me, let them GO!"

There was only one person it could be.

The Doctor rushed forward and took the phone from her. He put it to his ear. "I'm here," he said flatly.

There was a brief moment of silence, then a breathy whisper: "Doctor."

The Doctor suppressed a shudder at the sound of Sam Tyler's voice on the Master's tongue. "Master," he said.

An audible swallow. "I like it when you use my name," said the Master, his voice rippling with pleasure.

"You chose it," said the Doctor, formal and cold. "Psychiatrist's field day."

"As you chose yours," the Master replied placidly. "'The man who makes people better'. How sanctimonious is that?"

"So…" said the Doctor. "Prime minister, then."

"I know!" purred the Master over the phone. "S'good, isn't it."

"Quite a step up from the boy who worked in a shop," the Doctor replied.

The Doctor could just visualize the Master's face growing stormy momentarily, then switching back to his signature smirk. "Oh. You liked my little…surprise party, did you?" said the Master. "Sorry about that. Just had to test to see if you were up to contending with me. I do so love a challenge."

"I know. All too well," the Doctor stated. "Who are those creatures? Because there's no such thing as the Toclafane. It's just a made up name like the Bogeyman."

"Do you remember all those fairy tales about the Toclafane when we were kids? Back home. You remember home, don't you, Doctor dear? The planet you destroyed."

"Stop it."

"What did it feel like, though? Two almighty civilizations burning." The Master took in a deep, anxious breath. "Oh, tell me, how did that feel? You must've felt like God. You certainly liked to boo-hoo about it. 'Oh poor me, I'm such a wretched little genocidal hypocrite-'"

"Stop it, just stop this!" the Doctor shouted. "How the hell are you even alive, anyway? The Daleks executed you. I carried your ashes home. Then you turned into a slug and possessed that Terminator-looking paramedic and tried to off me in frankly, one of your most sloppy schemes yet-"

"Ah, yes, I'd forgotten how rude this incarnation of yours can be at times," said the Master. "Yes, yes, and then my soul was trapped in the Eye of Harmony in your TARDIS. I remember, I was there, unfortunately. For centuries, I stewed in that cesspit. Until the Time War, that is."

"What happened to you?" the Doctor asked.

"The Time Lords only resurrected me because they knew I'd be the perfect warrior for a war of that magnitude."

"Romana would have never allowed that."

"Yes, well, by that time, your dear friend the honorable Lady High President had been impeached from office, so I understand. I do wish you'd stop interrupting me, my sweet, it's a terribly annoying habit. Anyway…I was there when the Dalek Emperor took control of the Cruciform. I saw it. I ran."

The Doctor could hear the fear in the other Time Lord's voice, even just from remembering.

"I ran so far." The Master's voice was soft, vulnerable. "Made myself human so they would never find me, because I was so scared."

"I know," said the Doctor, trying to keep the wobble out of his own voice.

"I suppose I have to thank you, Doctor, and Miss Jones. After all, without the two of you, my idiot human self would have never been driven to open the watch and let me out. I'd have lived and died as a human. Have you ever heard of something so boring in your lives?"

"Look…whatever you're planning. You can just call it off," the Doctor tried. "We can go away again, together, properly this time. Don't you see? All we've got is each other."

The Master snorted derisively. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

If that was what you wanted, the Doctor thought to himself helplessly. "You could stop this right now. We could leave this planet. We can fight across the constellations, if that's what you want, but not on Earth!"

There was a moment of silent consideration, and the Doctor actually got his hopes that the Master might surrender. Then…

"Too late."

"Why do you say that?" the Doctor said.

"The drumming," the Master whispered. "Can't you hear it? I thought it would stop, but it never does. Never ever stops. Inside my head, the drumming, Doctor. The constant…drumming."

"I could help you," said the Doctor, almost pleading. My God, he is mad. "Please, let me help."

"It's everywhere," muttered the Master. "Listen, listen, listen!...here come the drums. Here come…the drums."

The Doctor spied a man leaning on a brick wall next to an electronics store nearby, patting his thighs in the same, steady rhythm of four that had stricken Martha and the homeless man in the square. "What have you done?" the Doctor demanded. "Tell me how you've done this. What are those creatures? Tell me!"

"Ooh, look. You're on TV."

"Stop it. Answer me."

"No, really, you're on telly!" the Master insisted, chuckling lightly. "You and your little band, which, by the way, is ticking every demographic box. So, congratulations on that. Look, there you are."

The Doctor looked inside the store window at a TV for sale, displaying the news. It showed pictures of himself, Martha, Jack, and surprisingly, Chantho, in her human disguise. The headline was "Nationwide Hunt For Terrorist Suspects".

"Now, I don't know who the little Asian woman is with you, but whoever she is, you and your merry men are public enemies numbers one, two, three, and four. The whole of the country will be looking for you. Isn't that fun, pet? Now, go on, off you go. Why not start by turning to the right?"

The Doctor turned around. A security camera was pointed directly at him, drinking him in. "He can see us!" the Doctor stated, zapping it with his sonic screwdriver.

"Oh, you public menace!" the Master crowed. "Better start running. Go on…run!"

The Doctor looked at his friends despondently. "He's got control of everything."

"We have nowhere to go," said Jack.

"I am frightened!" said Chantho, huddling into Jack.

Martha was glaring at the Doctor. "What do we do? Doctor, what do we do?"

"Run, Doctor!" the Master taunted from over the phone. "Run for your life!"

The Doctor had no answers. So he said the only thing he knew to do.

"We run." The Doctor turned tail and took off, his trio following him.

They took refuge in an abandoned warehouse, where the Doctor knew the Master couldn't see them. They had to eat (Chantho's tea was all they'd had in 24 hours), so Martha went to the store to pick up some things. While the others could eat regular human food, Chantho was a bit difficult. However, being a bit like a bug, it turned out Chantho could live on normal Earth lettuce. So there they were, camped out. Hiding. Fugitives.

The Doctor was on Martha's laptop, doing research. "It still says the Jones family has been taken in for questioning. Tell you what, though. No mention of Leo," he reported to Martha optimistically.

"He's not as daft as he looks," said Martha, finally smiling, relieved to know that her brother was out of harm's way. Then, her face fell. "I'm talking about my brother on the run. How did this happen?"

"Nice chips," Jack mentioned through a semi-full mouth.

The Doctor tried one for himself. "Actually, they're not bad," he admitted.

The Doctor thought the last time he had eaten chips. It was when he had taken a job as a teacher at Deffry Vale School, when the staff had been slipping the children Krillitane oil to make them into geniuses. His old friend Sarah Jane Smith had been there as well, and K9. And Sam…

And of course, the time before that…

"Annie's the best thing that ever happened to me, honestly," said Sam, his radiant face gleaming in the rare London sunshine. "Although, this whole adventure we've had? It definitely comes a close second."

The Doctor smiled inwardly. "Yeah, well…you looked bored."

"Not bored," said Sam. "Just…lost, I guess. And besides, you looked like you didn't have a friend in the world. Everybody needs a mate…no, not like that! I meant…you know…a buddy. A pal. You know…"

The Doctor suddenly had a lump in his throat. He quickly swallowed it down.

Martha, Jack, and Chantho were all looking at each other expectantly. There was a giant, Time Lord shaped elephant in the room, and one of them had to bring it up, now that they were settled. Martha and Chantho looked at Jack pointedly. Jack glared at them briefly, then gave in and turned to the Doctor. The Doctor was gazing at his chips morosely.

"So, Doctor…who is he?" said Jack carefully. "I mean, who was he? Before…you know. How come the ancient society of Time Lords created a psychopath?"

"Yes," said Chantho. "Please, tell us. If it isn't too much to ask."

Martha piped up. "You two seemed to know each other. I mean, like, before…you know. Was he like, your colleague or-"

"A friend, at first," remarked the Doctor, popping another chip into his mouth.

"I thought you were going to say he was your secret brother or something," said Martha. Then she stopped for a moment, wrinkling her nose. "Which…would be really gross."

"You've been watching too much TV," said the Doctor, also looking perturbed. Then, he admitted, "But you know, we were very close when we went to school together. Some people actually thought we were related. But no."

"He was your…best friend?" Chantho asked.

The Doctor hesitated before answering. "Yes," he admitted. "Once. And then, not."

"Why not?" Martha said. "When the Master was…you know…you two got along like peas in a pod."

"Things changed. We both did. That planet, our home, our childhood…Gallifrey. It changes you. And not for the better, I think," said the Doctor distantly.

"But all the legends of Gallifrey made it sound so perfect," said Jack.

"Well, perfect to look at, maybe," said the Doctor reclining. "And it was. It was beautiful. They used to call it the Shining World of the Seven Systems. And on the Continent of Wild Endeavour, in the Mountains of Solace and Solitude…there stood the Citadel of the Time Lords." The Doctor closed his eyes, visualizing. "The oldest and most mighty race in the universe, looking down on the galaxies below. Sworn never to interfere, only to watch. Children of Gallifrey, taken from their families-the ones higher in society, that is; Gallifrey was a very class based planet, you see-at the age of eight to enter the Academy. And some say that's when it all began. When he was a child…that's when the Master saw eternity."

The three others were listening intently.

"As a novice, he was taken for initiation," the Doctor described. He could recall his own ceremony very well. The most terrifying moment in a Time Lord's life. "He stood in front of the Untempered Schism. It's a gap in the fabric of reality through which could be seen the whole of the vortex. You stand there, eight years old, staring at the raw power of time and space, just a child. Some would be inspired. Some would run away. And some would go mad…"

Koschei suddenly awoke, spitting water out of his mouth, coughing and gasping for air.

"Koschei!" A golden presence was hovering over him.

"Am I dead?" Kos asked slurringly. "Is this heaven? Are you an angel?"

There was weak, beautiful laughter from the angel, and then gentle patting at his cheeks. "No, love, it's me. You're fine. Look at me, Kos."

Koschei blinked several times, then the hazy image above him resolved into the face of his beloved best friend. "Theta," he breathed with relief. "Oh, you beautiful sight. Thank Omega, I thought I was dying."

Theta bit his lip, concernedly. "Well…actually…you were. You did."

"Wha…" Koschei was confused.

"No, love, don't-" Theta moved aside as Koschei dragged himself across the muddy grass, surely getting his school robes-which were now strangely small fitting on him-dirty. Borusa would punish him to the nth degree, but his limbs felt like gelatin. He simply couldn't stand properly at the moment. Koschei pulled himself to the water's edge and stared at his own reflection.

His hair was lighter now, not jet black like before, but brown, like milk chocolate, and had a natural wave to it. His eyes were smaller, and brown, instead of violet. His nose was a bit more pronounced, and his cheeks were less round.

"I've regenerated," he said, surprised at the sound of his new voice.

"Yes," said Theta, nodding. "I'm afraid so."

Koschei looked at Theta concernedly. "Oh God, they're going to kill me-Borusa-"

"We'll tell him that you fell in the river, hit your head, and drowned. It's all going to be fine."

"No," said Kos, shaking his head. "We have to tell him about Torvic. He tried to murder me, Thete. He might do it again to someone else-"

"We don't…have to worry about him anymore." Theta's voice was strained-nervous.

"Love? What's wrong?" Kos stroked Theta's bicep with his new left hand. It was bigger and not as dainty as the one before.

"I…I-I-I…oh, Rassilon save me, Kos, I di-didn't know what I was d-d-doing, I just…he was hurting you, and I…oh God, oh God-"

Koschei hugged his friend to him, stroking his curls the way he'd done in his old body. He cradled Theta and lulled him. Then he spotted something a few yards away.

Torvic, lying on the ground. Still.

"Theta…what's wrong with Torvic." Koschei said very, very quietly, all of a sudden very afraid.

Theta cried harder. "It w-was an aaaccident, Koschei, I swear, I didn't mean to-"

"Theta, what have you done," Koschei questioned urgently.

Theta sobbed, clutching Kos's robes so hard his knuckles turned white. Underneath the crimson caked on them.

Koschei suddenly felt very cold, and it had nothing to do with the wet robes he was sitting in.

The Doctor shuddered. "Brr. I don't know."

"What about you?" Martha inquired.

"Oh, the one of the ones that ran away," the Doctor replied, as if it were obvious. "I never stopped."

"Koschei, I just-lost control," said Theta, once he'd regained some semblance of collectedness. "I saw you, lying in the water, and I just…I jumped on him. I tackled him to the ground. Bringing my fists down on his face, over and over. At first he was laughing at me. Then he started telling me to stop. I didn't even noticed that my hands were covered in his blood. I couldn't hear him screaming over my own heartsbeats in my ears. It was until several minutes after he'd passed up, I realized his hearts had stopped beating. I kept waiting for him to regenerate, but I must have crushed the…the…the whatever lobe in the brain it is that controls regeneration, I don't know, I wasn't paying attention in class that day, oh God, Kos, I killed him, I killed-"

"It's okay, Theta, it's okay," said Koschei, hugging his friend tightly.

"I'm a murderer," whispered Theta in horror.

"No, you were just…trying to protect me," said Kos.

"We have to run away!"

"What good would that do? They'll only find you and drag you back."

"They're going to kill me," said Theta, shaking. "They'll lock me up inside Shada prison and they'll put me on the death sentence list-"

"No," said Koschei, with sudden clarity. "They won't."

"What?" Theta looked at his lover with wet eyes.

Koschei looked at him hard. "They can't condemn you if they don't find his body."

Theta leaned back, slightly alarmed.

"Go find some wood-logs, branches, stuff like that, and some kindling. I'll go up to the school and get what we need-matches, fuel, a perception filter to put around the area so no one sees the smoke."

"You…want to burn the body?" Theta asked shakily.

"Yes. We have to. Otherwise, they'll find him and you'll be arrested as a murderer," said Kos. "Look, just obey me, and you'll be fine. Trust me, Theta."

Theta was frozen, dazed, for a moment, then slowly nodded.

"Good." Koschei kissed his forehead. "Now go. And rinse that blood off your hands while I'm gone."

"Doctor," said Chantho, awakening him from his stupor. "You said the Master was manipulating the population somehow."

"Yes, I know. He's hypnotized them, somehow. But unless he stood directly in front of every citizen of Britain and-hold on. How do I still have Internet connection out here?"

Martha shrugged. "Archangel, I suppose."

"What?"

"Well, yeah. It's this free mobile Internet service, all over London and surrounding areas. I've got it, everyone's got it."

"And who launched this Internet service?" said the Doctor.

"Um…" Jack took the computer and typed on it, coming up with the answer. "Torchwood," he answered, grimacing.

"Oh no," said Martha.

"Look, it's gone worldwide," Jack pointed out. "They've got fifteen satellites in orbit. Even the other networks, they're all carried by Archangel."

"It's in the phones…oh, of course!" the Doctor exclaimed. He collected Martha's mobile and scanned it. "Told you he was a hypnotist. It's not a perception filter at all. Wait, wait. Hold on."

The phone played a sequence of four high pips in succession. "There it is. That rhythm, it's everywhere, ticking away in the subconscious."

"What is it, mind control?" said Martha.

"No, no, no, no, no, it's subtler than that. Any stronger and people would question it. But contained in that rhythm, in layers of code. Vote Saxon. Believe in me. Whispering to the world…aw! Yes! That's how he hid himself from me, because I should have sensed there was another Time Lord on Earth. I should have known way back. The signal cancelled him out." Clever bastard.

"Any way you can stop it?" Jack asked.

"Not from down here," the Doctor answered. "But now we know how he's doing it."

"And we can fight back," said Martha.

"Oh, yes!" the Doctor cheered.

Second sunset had passed. Koschei and Theta were silently watching the bright orange blaze.

"You must never tell anyone about this, Theta," said Koschei darkly.

Theta was quiet for a moment, then looked at Koschei. "How can you just be so calm, Koschei? I just killed a person. How can you just be so casual about it?"

Koschei continued to stare at the flames, their orange glow reflected in his new brown eyes. "Because I do what I have to to survive."

Chapter 63: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 3

Chapter Text

The Doctor fiddled with the technology of Martha's laptop, her mobile, a radiation tracer that Chantho had on her, and the other little devices in their possession, and built tiny perception filters to wear on their persons. "Four TARDIS keys. Four pieces of the TARDIS, all with low level perception properties because the TARDIS is designed to blend in. Well, sort of. But now, the Archangel Network's got a second low level signal. Weld the key to the network and...Martha, look at me. You can see me, yes?"

"Yep," Martha replied.

The Doctor slipped on one of the keys around his neck on a string. "What about now?"

Martha tried to look directly at the spot the Doctor was standing in, but found her eyes wandering away of their own accord. She tried to focus, but when she did, she developed a slight headache, like being in a bright room with a hangover.

"No, I'm here. Look at me."

Martha could hear the Doctor's voice, but it sounded like background noise. "It's like I know you're there, but I don't want to know," she said, blinking hard.

"And back again," said the Doctor, taking off the key. "See? It just shifts your perception a tiny little bit. Doesn't make us invisible, just unnoticed." He handed out the rest of the keys and said, "come on."

They walked out into the night. "Don't run, don't shout," instructed the Doctor softly. "Just keep your voice down. Draw attention to yourself and the spell is broken. Just keep to the shadows."

"Like ghosts," said Jack.

"Yeah, that's what we are," said the Doctor. "Ghosts."

The Doctor, drifting through space with no destination or direction, Ace having returned home eons ago and Benny having left him for her own adventures, was receiving an incoming call from his estranged home planet.

"Oh, what is it now?" said the Doctor exasperatedly as the face of the sixth incarnation of the Lady High President of Gallifrey appeared on his communications monitor. "I've just put on a kettle for tea. If this is about anything less than the entrrropy of rrrreality unfurrrrling to doom us all, it can be put on the back burner."

"My dear Doctor, I assure you, this will pique your interests," said Romanadvoretrelundar, sounding ever stately and right at home in her esteemed position. "It's about an old friend."

"I have a lot of those; you'll have to be more specific," said the Doctor.

"It's about your oldest friend."

The Doctor froze. "What's he done now?" he said.

Romana seemed to hesitate.

"What is it?" asked the Doctor, clutching both sides of the screen. "Where is the Master?"

Romana sighed. "Dead. He's dead, Doctor."

The Doctor felt his heartsbeats stop at the horrid news. "What..."

"He was captured and put on trial. It was the Daleks. That whole Siralos ordeal."

"That's ludicrous," declared the Doctor. "The Daleks aren't the Master's peers. It hardly could've been a fair trial. There should have been a level jury. Someone there to defend him."

"The Daleks aren't exactly a race intent on justice," Romana pointed out. "The Master's a renown criminal, wanted on most planets for several charges for offenses against creation. Who in this entire universe would defend him?"

"'But who prays for Satan'," quoted the Doctor somberly.

He shouldn't feel sorrow. But the fact that was always true was that, once, the Master had been his friend. The person he loved most in all of reality.

After a moment, Romana spoke up. "The Daleks did allow him one last request," she said.

"I believe this is where I came in," said the Doctor.

"Yes. The Master has asked that you retrieve his ashes and bring them home, to Gallifrey."

The Doctor was unresponsive for a moment. "Knowing him, it's most likely a trap," he finally said.

"The Daleks have agreed to a ceasefire with you for the sojourn," said Romana.

"It's not the Daleks I'm worried about."

"He's dead, Doctor. What could you possibly have to fear from the Master?" Romana inquired.

The Doctor sighed. "Knowing him…he could have twenty schemes cooked up at least."

At Heathrow Airport, Air Force One was touching down, and "Mr. Saxon", his wife, and his entourage were waiting to greet the Commander in Chief. The Doctor, Martha, Chantho, and Jack were watching from afar.

The Doctor watched intensely as Sam Tyler's once kind, luminous smile was twisted into the Master's whimsical sneer as the President approached. His stomach lurched up his esophagus. He could sense the other Time Lord's psyche, the Master was so close; he could taste it on the tip of his tongue.

"Mr. President," simpered the Master as he shook his hand.

"Mr. Saxon, the British Army will stand down," ordered Arthur Winters. "From now on, UNIT has control of this operation."

"UNIT's branched out to the States? That's new," Jack muttered to the Doctor.

"They were sort of international the whole time, helping where they could. They were just based in England," the Doctor replied under his breath.

The Master shrugged sheepishly, playing dumb. "You make it sound like an invasion."

"The first contact policy was decided by the Security Council in 1968," Winters stated, "and you've just gone and ignored it."

"I was there," said the Doctor. "I helped construct it. A different time, a different body."

"Well, you know what it's like, new job, all that paperwork," said the Master to the President. "I think it's down the back of the settee. I did have a quick look. I found a pen, a sweet, a bus ticket, and uh…have you meet the wife?" He gestured to Missus Saxon, a la Vanna White.

Winters studied the Master hawkishly. "Mister Saxon, I'm not sure what your game is, but there are provisions at the UN to have you removed from office unless you are very, very careful. Is that understood?"

The Master smiled, held up a gloved finger ("Of course he'd wear leather gloves, that hackneyed old prat," the Doctor said), and gestured zipping up his lips.

"Are you taking this seriously?" Winters interrogated.

The Master nodded patronizingly, pursing his lips as to demonstrate just how serious he was.

The President nodded curtly. "To business. We've accessed your files on these…Toclafane. But first contact cannot take place on any sovereign soil. To that purpose, the aircraft carrier Valiant is en route. The rendezvous will take place there at eight AM."

The Master began phonating behind his tightly sealed lips, making odd "hmm-hmm-hmm-hmm" noises. "Oh, just look at him. He always was an irritating little swot, even in school," the Doctor griped. Martha shushed him.

"You're trying my patience, sir," said the President exasperatedly.

The Master made a show of "unzipping" his lips, then stated, "So America is completely in charge."

"Since Britain elected an ass-yes!" spat Winters, turning away. "I'll see you on board the Valiant."

"It still…will be televised though," said the Master as the President was walking away. "…won't it? Because I promised, and the whole world will be watching."

"Since it's too late to pull out, the world will be watching…me," the President replied, then marched away with his Secret Service men, got into his car, and drove away.

"Oh, he's not gonna like that," the Doctor murmured. "The Master not being the center of attention? He's gonna have some kind of revenge planned, that's for sure."

The Master shared a few words with his wife and staff, then they too departed. But before the Master climbed into his staff car, his eyes swept the area. The four fugitives held their breath as the Master's gaze passed over them. For an instant, he locked eyes with the Doctor, and the Doctor could swear the Master could sense his presence as well. Then the Master's gaze turned elsewhere, and the gang could breathe again.

"Did he see us?" Chantho asked.

"Don't think so," said the Doctor. "Still…best to stay on our toes. Just in case."

"Doctor," said Jack, touching his arm and pointing.

An ambulance suddenly pulled up to Saxon's party, and the Master grinned at the sight like a kid on Christmas morning. He smiled really big and called "Hi, guys!" as a small squadron emerged, dragging out none other than the Joneses, kicking and screaming.

The Doctor held onto Martha's wrist as she tensed at the sight. "Oh my God," she said under her breath.

"Don't move," instructed the Doctor.

"But they-"

"Don't."

Martha watched in quiet rage as her parents were forced into one of the Master's Range Rovers. "I'm gonna kill him," she whispered.

"Whaddya say I use this perception filter to walk up behind him and break his neck," Jack growled.

"He's a Time Lord, which makes him my responsibility. I'm not here to kill him," said the Doctor.

"Then why are you here?" Martha asked him, furious.

The Doctor honestly didn't have an answer. Had their scenario been different, had the Master not traveled with the Doctor for so long and been good, he would have said, "To save him." But now he knew: the Master was damned. He was irredeemable. Traveling with the Doctor, being his friend-it didn't make one bit of difference. The Master was evil, and that was all there was to it. "We stop him," said the Doctor decisively. "No violence. No weapons. We use peace, and patience. That's our way."

"Yeah, well look where peace has gotten us. My family's being held hostage by that lunatic," Martha spat.

"When you fight fire with fire, you just get bigger flames. Some big enough to burn whole civilizations. I know that from experience. Never again. Your loved ones are in danger, Martha, I know that, and I know I put them there. But I promise you, we will save them, and the rest of the world too. Please. You have to trust me."

Martha was sullen. But silent.

Jack was typing in on the little computer on his Vortex Manipulator. "Aircraft carrier Valiant-that's a UNIT ship, at 58.2 N, 10.02 E."

"How do we get on board?" Martha asked softly.

"Does that thing work as a teleport?" The Doctor asked Jack.

"Since you revamped it, yeah," said Jack, smirking. He pushed a few more buttons. "Coordinates set."

The four of them instinctively placed their hands on the Captain and flashed out.

Immediately, they reappeared in a boiler room. "Oh, that thing is rough!" Martha yelped.

"I've had worse nights!" Jack added, shaking the ache from his head.

"I do not wish to use that device for travel again," Chantho said, rubbing her pulsating temples.

Jack sighed. "Welcome to the Valiant. A ship for the twenty first century, protecting the skies of planet Earth."

Martha looked out the window. "It's dawn. We traveled forward to tomorrow morning, didn't we? The Toclafane are about to be unveiled…bloody hell! It's just the helicarrier from The Avengers!"

"You mean the one with Sexy Downey Junior, right?" said Jack. "Not that old spy show."

"Yeah. Though my favorite was always Captain America. Well, after Black Widow-"

"Yeah, alright, we can discuss our favorite superheroes some other time," said the Doctor. "Right now, we have to see what the Master is planning…and also, Thor kicks Cap's arse any day."

"I fight you on that one, Mister…later," said Martha, as they walked away to find the exit.

"I do not understand these references, Captain Harkness," said Chantho quietly to Jack, following the group.

"I'll explain later," the Captain said.

They were halfway through the catacombs of the ship's inner workings, when the Doctor suddenly stopped them.

Jack stared at him. "We've no time for sightseeing," he hissed.

The Doctor shushed him. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Chantho asked.

"Doctor, my family's on board," Martha pointed out.

The Doctor wasn't listening to them. He just grinned. "Brilliant!" he said, elated for some reason. "This way!"

The others had no choice but to follow their fearless leader down a corridor, to a large door marked "4". He threw the doors open…and grinned at what lay beyond them. "Oh, at last!" he exclaimed. Martha and Jack cheered as well, and Chantho smiled, not exactly sure why everyone was so happy, but still glad that the others were glad.

Amidst several wooden crates and rusty dollies…lay the TARDIS.

The Doctor and Martha immediately ran for the thing, and Chantho faithfully followed after them. Jack hung back a pace or two, his suspicious "What's it doing on the Valiant?" going unnoticed in the rejoicing.

The Doctor threw the doors open and burst inside…only to be met with a horrid sight. The cloister bells were chiming insistently, and the room was lit in ominous crimson. The console was surrounded by a wall of wire mesh. Everything was…wrong.

"What the hell's he done with it?" Jack questioned.

"Don't touch anything!" the Doctor warned.

"I wasn't going to."

"What's he done though?" Martha said. "Sounds like it's...sick."

"It can't be," said the Doctor breathlessly. "No, no, no, no, no, no, it can't be."

"Doctor, what is it?" Chantho asked.

"He's cannibalized the TARDIS!" The Doctor sounded crushed. He had every right to be-the Master seemed to have taken everything the Doctor and Martha cared about and…perverted it.

"Is this what I think it is?" said Jack.

The Doctor stared at the altered console in hatred. "It's a paradox machine!"

The Doctor, Chantho, and Jack scoured every inch of the bastardized TARDIS. Chantho found a gauge on one side. The Doctor pointed to the arrow. "As soon as this hits red, it activates. At this speed, it'll trigger at…two minutes past eight," he said, consulting Jack's universal watch.

"First contact is at eight, then two minutes later…" Jack remarked, trying to figure out the situation.

"What's it for?" Martha inquired, hating being the one out of the know. "What does a paradox machine do?"

"More important, can you stop it?" Jack asked, addressing the Doctor.

"Not till I know what it's doing," said the Doctor stroking his own face in agitated contemplation. "Touch the wrong bit, it'll blow up the solar system."

"Then we must reach the Master," said Chantho.

"Yeah," agreed Jack. "How are we going to stop him?"

"Oh, I've got a way," said the Doctor.

His posse stared at him in shock.

The Doctor looked up at them, as if suddenly realizing they were there. "Sorry, didn't I mention it?"

Ten minutes later, the foursome was sneaking into the main room of the Valiant, where the first contact ceremony was commencing. They moved through the room, ignored by the other patrons thanks to their perception filters. The President was addressing the planet on TV, and the Master and his wife were sitting at a conference table nearby. The Master was watching the President intently, a gleeful smile plastered to his face. The Doctor knew that smile was not good news.

"For as long as man has looked at the stars," President Winters was saying, "he has wondered what mysteries they hold. Now we know we are not alone…"

"This plan," Jack breathed to the Doctor. "You gonna tell us?"

The Doctor was busy watching the Master, like a gazelle watches a sleeping lion, wondering if it's going to awaken and attack. He held up his TARDIS key. "If I can get this around the Master's neck, cancel out his perception, they'll see him for real. It's just…" The Doctor looked around the room briefly at everyone else, then his gaze returned to the villain. "…hard to go unnoticed with everyone on red alert. If they stop me you've got a key."

Jack nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I'll get him," Martha swore.

"And me as well," said Chantho.

"And I ask you now," said Winters, concluding his induction speech, "…I ask of the human race, to join with me in welcoming our friends. I give you the Toclafane."

There were four small flashes of white-blue light, that resolved into four levitating orbs, like the one they'd seen on Martha's television, encircling the President's raised platform.

The President studied them, a bit in awe of their presence, then cleared his throat, and stated, "My name is Arthur Coleman Winters, President Elect of the United States of America, and designated representative of the United Nations. I welcome you to the planet Earth and its associated moon."

"You're not the Master," said a computerized, childlike voice, coming from one of the Toclafane.

"We like the Mister Master," said another, cheerfully.

"We don't like you," said the first one.

"I…can be 'Master', if you so wish," said the President, a little taken by surprise, his eyes trying to keep trained on all four of them simultaneously as they flitted around him here and there, aimlessly. One whizzed past his head. "I will accept mastery over you, if that is God's will."

"Man is stupid," said the first Toclafane. "Master is our friend."

"Where's my Master?" drawled the second one. "Pretty please?"

The Master, from his office chair, sighed modestly, gestured, and said, "Oh alright then-it's me!" Up jumped the devil, and struck a musical theatre-esque pose, complete with jazz hands, and announced, "Ta daaaaah! He laughed. "Sorry, sorry. I have this effect, people just get obsessed. Is it the smile? Is it the aftershave? Is it the capacity to laugh at myself? I don't know, it's crazy!" He licked his lips and grinned at the room.

"Saxon, what are you talking about?" the President demanded.

The Master stuck his hip out, pouting, and crossed his arms. "I'm taking control, Uncle Sam," he mocked. "Starting with you." The Master looked over at one of the Toclafane and thrust out his jaw. "Kill 'im."

The Toclafane extended long, blade like attachments. It shot out a red laser, which struck the President, obliterating him into singed flakes of flesh. The patrons began to scream. Weapons were drawn by security. The Doctor coaxed his team down, in case someone shot and one of them was inadvertently hit.

The Master laughed maniacally and clapped his hands with glee. "Guards!" he instructed, gesturing for his security to keep their guns pointed at the civilians. He bounded up the steps, Lucy Saxon lighting after him daintily on her six inch heels. "Now then!" the Master roared at the camera. "Peoples of the Earth! Please attend carefully."

The Doctor ripped off his key and rushed forward to seize the Master, but two guards grabbed him. They forced him to his knees at the foot of the Master's platform.

The Master came down a few stairs, grinning wickedly. "We meet again, Doctor." He laughed raucously. "Oh ho! I love saying that. Eighteen months passes so quickly, does it not?"

"Stop this, stop it now!" the Doctor shouted, flecks of spit flying from his lips.

"As if a perception filter's gonna work on me," the Master scoffed at him. "Ah, my little voyeur, you thought you could spy on me and I wouldn't know you were there? It's obviously been too long, old friend. You've forgotten your Master. And look…" he cooed, casting his eyes over at Jack, Martha, and Chantho. "It's the girly, the freak, and the dead weight. Although…I'm not sure which one's which. Hang on…is that…Chantho?" The Master leered at her. "Chantho's alive? My goodness, it's like an episode of This Is Your Life! Very clever shimmer trick, Doctor. I wonder, will it still hold up when she's dead, or will I be cleaning bug guts from my windshield?" The Master whipped out something from his inner suit jacket pocket and aimed the point of it at Chantho, but suddenly Jack yelled "NO!" and leapt in front of her, absorbing a burst of yellow energy and falling to the floor, dead. Again.

The Master held up his doohickey. It resembled the Doctor's sonic in some ways, but was original nevertheless. "Laser screwdriver," said the Master proudly. "Who'd have sonic? And the good thing is, he's not dead for long, I get to kill him again!" The Master sounded positively elated.

"Master, just calm down," the Doctor huffed at him. "Just look at what you're doing. Just stop! If you could see yourself-"

The Master sighed and looked at the camera. "Oh do excuse me. Little bit of personal business, back in a minute." He nodded to his guards. "Let him go."

The guards threw the Doctor to the ground. The Doctor struggled to get up again. "It's that sound. The sound in your head," the Doctor babbled earnestly. "What if I could help?"

"Ohhhh, how to shut him up?" the Master drawled, miming a chattermouth with his left hand. "I know…Memory Lane!" He popped a squat on the steps in front of the Doctor. "Professor Lazarus. Remember him and his genetic manipulation device? You should, getting all cozy in there and whatnot, stakes high, our lives on the lines-really does get one's blood pumping, doesn't it? Mine was." He winked. Then he looked at Martha. "And your lovely sister. What, did you think that little Tish got that job merely by coincidence? I've been laying traps for you all this time! Right from the beginning," he announced, looking back at the Doctor. "And if I can concentrate all that Lazarus technology into one. Little. Screwdriver…" He shook his device in the Doctor's face. "But…oooh." The Master grimaced, as if his whole scheme was suddenly debunked. He tapped his fingertips against his lips wistfully. "If I only had the Doctor's biological code." He paused. "Oh, wait a minute." He snapped his fingers. "I do!"

The Master hopped up and dashed across the room to a large silver case sitting on the portable bar. "I've got his hand!" He opened the case with a flourish to reveal the Doctor's hand, the one he'd lost in the battle with the Sycorax, bubbling away in its containment unit. "Thanks to good ol' Cap'n Jack!" said the Master. "And if Lazarus made himself younger," he continued, dramatically turning the dial on his screwdriver to the right setting, "…what if I reverse it? Another…" The Master playfully twirled the screwdriver in a few little circles. "…hundred years?" Then he pointed it at the Doctor and activated it.

The Doctor began rapidly twitching, throwing all his limbs about, seizuring uncontrollably. He was screaming in pain. Everyone was so busy watching the two Time Lords, no one even noticed that Jack had reawakened, and was now giving Martha his Vortex Manipulator. "We can't stop him," Jack whispered. "Get out of here…get out!"

The Master finally released the button on his screwdriver, and the Doctor was on the floor, in a quivering, huddled mass. Just as the Master had promised, he had aged very rapidly in the past thirty seconds. His hair, once thick, brunette, and glorious, was now wispy and white, showing through to his scalp. His skin was wizened and wrinkled, dotted with age spots rather than freckles. He looked older than old. He panted for breath after the onslaught, and Martha scooted close to him, supporting his weakened frame. "Doctor?" she squeaked. "I've got you."

"Aww, she's a would-be Doctor," the Master cooed mockingly. "But tonight, Martha Jones, we've flown 'em in, all the way from prison!" He gestured to the front doors of the conference room, which were sliding open to reveal Martha's parents being ushered in by more of the Master's goons.

"Mum," said Martha, softly, her eyes glassy.

"I'm sorry," sobbed Mrs. Jones.

The Doctor, still hunched over on the ground, huffed and puffed. "The Toclafane," he struggled to get out. "What are they?"

The Master knelt on the floor in front of him, snidely gesturing as if he couldn't hear him. "Who are they?" the Doctor croaked roughly.

The Master gave him a small, empathetic smile. "Doctor, if I told you the truth…" The flat of his hand flew to press against the Doctor's chest. "Your hearts would break."

"Is it time?" asked one of the Toclafane. "Is it ready?"

"Is the machine singing?" asked another.

The Master rose, the four Toclafane circling around his head like faithful moons. He checked his watch. "Two minutes past," he declared. Then he bounded up the stairs once more, and turned to speak to the camera. "So! Earthlings. Basically…um…" The Master shrugged nonchalantly. "End of the world." He raised his fist, clutching his laser screwdriver. "Here!...Come!...THE DRUMS!"

Suddenly, over the Valiant's loud speakers, the bass amped up by subwoofers, blared "Voodoo Child" by Rogue Trader. Lucy began to bop to the music, and the Master hopped over to a window looking out the starboard side of the ship. A rift was opening in the sky, and through it flew countless upon countless Toclafane orbs. The Master then ran up onto the platform again, tauntingly blew the Doctor a kiss, then raised his arms in victory. "Six billion," he proudly announced. Then he flicked a switch, which turned off the God-awfully annoying music. "Down you go, kids!" he shouted as the sphere descended to the Earth. "And remove one tenth of the population!"

The Doctor grabbed Martha's wrist, typing something on Jack's manipulator. He coaxed her closer and whispered in her ear. As Martha listened, she had a tear running down her face. She turned to the Doctor, looked at him, and shakily stood up, clutching the Manipulator. She gave her parents one last gaze. Then she closed her eyes, squeezing the dematerialization button, and flashed out, unnoticed by the Master, who was still raptly witnessing the descent of his creations.

The Doctor locked eyes with Jack, then Chantho. Then he slowly turned his old, old eyes to the evil man standing above him, reveling in the destruction.

Welcome, Doctor! Welcome to your new Master!

The Master turned, grinned, and pulled the Doctor up onto the platform with him, to watch as the Toclafane massacred the Earth. The Master breathed in his ear, "And so, it came to pass that the human race fell, and the Earth was no more. And I looked down upon my new dominion as Master of all. And I thought it…good." The Doctor looked at the Master, who smirked at him triumphantly.

Then the Master leaned forward and whispered, "Let the Age of Saxon begin."

Chapter 64: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 4

Chapter Text

Shall I tell you a story, little humans? Alright, but only so you'll stop your useless yammering.

Once upon a time, there was a very smart little boy, who was weak enough to fall in "love" with another little boy, only this one was not as smart or clever as the first little boy. The dimmer of the two was a feckless little flight risk who ended betraying the loyal friend he claimed to care so much about, and while some weaker creatures might let this horrible situation sadden them, make them pine, even curl up into a ball on their ex-lover's bed where they'd made love for the first time and cry for hours on end, pressing their faces into the sheets, breathing in the scent of their beloved, as if hoping the essence would corporealize them…

Ah…where was I?

Oh yes. No. This little boy was not like you weaker beings. Instead, he let the pain and misery of his friend's betrayal simmer and stew in his hearts, until they were small, black, and hard as stone. He would never be so foolish again. Instead, he would use his hatred to forge himself into a weapon. A force of such magnitude, the entire universe, and all who had spurned him, his family, his teachers, his idiot classmates, and yes, especially the Abandoner, him and all those stupid little pets of his that distracted him and had seduced him away from his friend…would cower in his presence. Submit to his will. The Master, of all creation. Their salvation…or their destruction.

Okay, was that too dramatic? Hmm. Maybe just a smidge, yeah. But I'm the ruler of all you stupid humans at the moment, so you're gonna like it anyway!

I had had many, many genius plans (no matter what anyone tells you) to exert my will over the universe. But they were all upended by that loathsome, meddling hypocrite! The Doctor had all sorts of pet names for me. "The quintessence of evil", I quite liked that one. But did anyone ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, the Doctor was just as bad as me? This is the man who killed our classmate, you know that story, don't you? And he was still a child himself! The same man who was willing to kill a Neanderthal with a rock! The same man who left a child to die on a spacecraft hurtling uncontrollably towards your planet! Who destroyed the home planets of both the Daleks and the Cybermen! Who wiped out his own entire species! And this is the guy you stupid primates look up to so much-!

But I digress. You know all about mine and the Doctor's shared past. I'm here to talk about the present. But first, I must go back. About, say…eighteen months?

Well, I had just shorn off that chavtastic mullet my human self had decided to grow (honestly, what the fuck was I thinking?) so now I looked more respectable. I knew my plan. I knew all the steps I needed to go through to achieve my goal. What I didn't know, was the appropriate order to go through them in.

Then, as I was exiting the barbershop, that quandary was solved for me.

"Oh, excuse me!" said a soft, chirpy little female voice as I ran straight into a blonde woman. "Oh no!"

This stupid bitch had been holding a venti Starbucks iced latte, and now it was sloshed all over the front of my suit.

"You stupid bitch, watch where you're going!" I shouted at her. Coffee was all down my front. Just fucking wonderful. I was going to be taking over the world smelling like French Vanilla. My chest was frigid. My nipples were hard, and my shirt was now wet and see through.

"I am so sorry," the woman babbled, pulling a hanky out of her Prada bag and wiping down my front, trying to sop up the mess. What the hell was the point?! I was soiled! "I…I'll pay for the dry cleaning," she said.

Well, that was something. The cosmic hobo had probably never set foot in a dry cleanery, just left his vast collection of clothing sit in that musty old wardrobe like a moth's buffet. I took in the woman's impeccable nails. Her Prada bag. Italian shoes, designer clothes, aristocratic arches. She was rich, that was obvious.

And suddenly, inspiration struck.

"You're gonna do more than that," I said, looking straight into her eyes. "You're gonna get me a whole new suit. Armani."

The woman's pale blue eyes fuzzed over. "Yes, sir," she said, in that dazed tone I was so familiar with.

"I'm feeling a little hungry," I said, starting to enjoy myself. "Hail a taxi. We're going to your place."

The woman automatically turned to the street, stuck out her arm, and called "Taxi!"

In the cab, the woman told the cabbie her address. "What is your name?" I asked her.

"Lucy. Lucy Cole," she said blankly.

"A very pretty name. A pretty name for a pretty girl." Well. Pretty for an ape.

"Thank you, sir."

"Is your family rich, little Lucy?"

"Yes, sir."

"How much do Mummy and Daddy make?"

"I…I don't know, sir."

"That's quite alright, little Lucy. You don't need to know much. Your pretty face and Daddy's money are all I need."

"Thank you, sir."

The cab pulled up to a very nice house. "Pay the man, Lucy," I said expectantly.

Lucy mindlessly pulled some money from her purse and gave it to the cabbie, then slid out of the car. "Keep the change," I said to the cabbie, as I followed.

A butler let us in, and Lucy led me to her father's wardrobe. "Thank you very much. Now this is a suit!" I cheered, pulling one out. "Turn around, Lucy, you little pervert."

I stripped out of the old outfit I'd knicked from the TARDIS and put on the new one. Mr. Cole was a bit bigger than me, a little taller, but I made do. I handed Lucy the old suit. "You'll have this dry cleaned now."

"Yes, sir." She ambled out obediently.

"And get me something to eat!" I grinned at myself in the full length mirror. Oh yes. I was movin' on up to the east side now, baby. My plan was already coming together, thanks to a force of providence.

Lucy returned, with a tray of food. "Lucy, little Lucy. I think you're exactly what I need," I said, turning to leer at her. "What do you say you and I start dating?" I began eating.

"I'd love to, sir."

"Oh, you have to stop calling me 'sir'. No one'll believe I'm your boyfriend if you call me 'sir'. Your dominant, maybe, but the whole Fifty Shades of Grey trend hasn't hit in this time period yet, so we'll have to think of something else."

"What do I call you?"

Hmmm… I smiled to myself as I got a positively poisonous idea. "Call me…Harold Saxon. Harry, if you like."

Oh, it was too perfect. When the Doctor finally did appear, he would feel like such a fool for not realizing who I was. And that's what this was all about, wasn't it? Ruining the Doctor? Heh heh.

"Yes, Harry. Shall we have sex now?" asked Lucy.

I gaped at her, disgusted at the very thought. "Ugh! No! Not really into bestiality, thanks. Even though I could name some degenerates who are."

That night, Lucy introduced me to her parents. "This is Harold Saxon, mum, dad. My boyfriend."

"Lucy? I didn't know you were dating anyone," said Mrs. Cole in surprise.

"Yes, well, I insisted upon meeting you," I said, flashing her my most charming smile. "I can see now where Lucy's exquisite loveliness stems from."

Mrs. Cole turned absolutely pink. "Oh, my…"

"Tell me, Mister Saxon, where do you come from? What's your background? Education? Career?" inquired Mr. Cole.

"I'm a Cambridge man, myself. I was captain of my rugby team three years running," I lied smoothly, taking note of my fake story for later use.

"Cambridge, eh? I studied at Cambridge as well," said Mr. Cole, brightening as the advent of a kinsmen. Oh, these old farts were just too easy. I didn't even have to use mind control. How boring.

With the Coles' approval, I wormed into the British government. From there, I created my back story. A real patriot's tale. By the end of it, who wouldn't want to put me in office? And I made sure any trace of "Sam Tyler" was erased forever. The last thing I wanted was to be confronted by that embarrassment.

And before long, I was large and in charge. I was on Harriet Jones's staff as Minister of Defense. Of course I had to alter her perception of me. She would obviously equate me with the Doctor's companion, and I couldn't have that. Then I was made head of the Torchwood Institute. It was I that vaporized the Sycorax ship on Christmas Eve, and the Empress of the Racnoss's vessel the following year. That was right before the election. It gave me a huge surge in the polls. Or, it would have, if I hadn't already been leading the polls, thanks to Archangel.

I remember sitting in my office, on that first Christmas morning, at my desk. I had just given the order to fire on the Sycorax ship, and I was being esteemed for my crack decision making. "You'll go far, Saxon," they told me. "I wouldn't be surprised if you ran for Prime Minister someday!"

I just smiled at them, and said, "Wouldn't that be something."

There I was, in my office, doing paperwork, when I received the best Christmas present ever. And from my dear Doctor, no less. In my ear, via my headset. Six, itty bitty, precious little words.

"Don't you think she look tired?"

And that was it. I knew right then, my plan was going to work. I leaned back in my chair, unable to keep from smiling.

"Thank you, Doctor."

When I officially put my name on the ballot, I really went to work with Archangel. I recalled everyone significant I had met as Sam Tyler and used the psychobiometric signal to scramble their thought processes, make them unable to discover who I was, to keep Harold Saxon and Sam Tyler separate in their minds. I didn't have to worry about Harriet Jones or little Miss Cartwright, I'd given them my personal touch. But Donna Noble, Martha Jones and her family…and of course, the Doctor.

Eighteen long months. Meticulous planning. And now, it had finally paid off. So here I sit, here on my throne, hovering in the sky. The Master, triumphant.

The Doctor is in my power. His little friends, Jack and Chantho, subservient to me. Martha Jones, powerless, and probably very soon dead. There is nothing that can stand in my way.

Chapter 65: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 5

Chapter Text

The Doctor had been escorted to "Harold Saxon's" office.

"Thank you," the Master called to the guards' retreating backs. Once they were gone, he leered down at his prisoner. "Hello, Doctor. I thought you might want to join me for tea."

At this moment, an attendant-Chantho-timidly came into the office carrying a tea tray. She set a cup and saucer in front of the Master, a tea kettle, cream pitcher, and sugar bowl in the center of the desk. The Doctor met Chantho's eyes briefly and tried to project an apology.

Poor thing. I took her from one hell and transplanted her into another.

"Nice china, eh?" said the Master. "But not for you, I'm afraid. No, I thought something like this would be more appropriate."

Chantho nervously set down a red plastic bowl in front of the Doctor. "DOG" was painted on the side.

The Doctor stared at the doggie dish, then up at the Master with an incredulous look.

The Master laughed. "Oh, no need for a frowny face. Just my little joke. Figured you could use a good chuckle right about now."

The Doctor rolled his eyes and chose to look out the window instead.

"I must say, Doctor, I'm disappointed in you," said the Master, now pacing behind his desk as Chantho skittishly let herself out. The Doctor had been incarcerated on the Valiant for nearly two weeks now, and the Master had found him quite the gracious prisoner. Perhaps it was the elderly body, but the Doctor had not made one single attempt to escape captivity. He was eating his meals, doing what he was told, and overall, was being totally cooperative. It was as if the Doctor had given up completely.

But the Master was not as naïve as the Doctor. He knew the wily do-gooder must be planning something to ruin his perfectly executed plan. "Whatever it is you're keeping from me," he said, staring the Doctor down sneeringly, "I'll stop you. And then I'll bring hellfire down on your pathetic little humans as you have never seen. And I'll make you watch."

The Doctor, staring at a distant spot on the wall behind and slightly to the right of the Master, maintained his indifferent composure.

The Master glared at the unresponsive Doctor. "You might as well tell me now. If you divulge, I promise, I won't punish them. Tell me." He slammed his palm down on his wooden desk. "Speak, damn it!"

The Doctor remained silent.

The Master straightened, smoothed down his suit, and strolled to the window. "You know, you really have changed, Doctor. I recall a time when you couldn't be shut up, always having to have the last word. Your third incarnation, for example. Oh, he did tend to drone on, didn't he?" The Master stole a glance at the Doctor. "Yes, I do remember him quite well. Heroic, dramatic, always showing off. I don't mind telling you how I seethed at the lost fencing matches we had. But then, you were an awful cheat."

Not my fault you're the lesser swordsman.

Ah, finally. A reaction. "Oh, communicating, are we?" asked the Master, spinning around flamboyantly, as he'd found this body quite found of doing. "Of course, I wasn't expecting simple telepathic messages, but still…" He patted the Doctor on the cheek. "It's a start."

"Now, where was I? Ah, yes, your third. I was just saying how extremely prattish he could be at times. Oh, don't get me wrong, my dear, he was a worthy foe, a genius, and how I did love his voice, and those hands…but, he did seem to have his head up his arse most of the time. Must've been painful for you, what with that monstrosity of a nose."

Hmph!

"Oh, don't be like that, Doctor, you know I'm only kidding. I say, your fourth would have certainly appreciated that one. Oh dear. It seems we've taken an unexpected little turn down Memory Lane. Hope you don't mind."

The Doctor rolled his eyes, but still, said nothing.

"Splendid. So, your fourth. The Bohemian. A delightfully strange fellow. I do wish I could have spent a bit more time with him. I hear he had quite the sense of humor. Strange that I never got to experience it. Wonder why that is?" said the Master, perched on the edge of his desk. He eyed the Doctor, trying to make a joke of it, but the Doctor could tell he was pained. And why wouldn't he be? After all, his fourth was the body he'd-

"Killed? Indeed," said the Master, smile falling. Was that shame?

"Don't be ridiculous," the Master hissed. "Killing the Doctor-it should have been my greatest achievement, my proudest moment."

But it wasn't. Was it.

The Master cast his eyes to the floor. "No. It wasn't…it's so peculiar," he said, hopping off the table and pacing away from the Doctor. Never stopping moving. "After all the times I attempted to kill you, the one time I'm actually successful…" He stopped, cautiously looking over his shoulder. "You know, I never intended to kill you that day. Oh, I was going to kill you eventually, of course, but…you don't hold it against me, do you?"

The Doctor courteously held in a derisive snort. Here he was, the Master's captive, while outside, the earth and all its inhabitants were falling prey to the Toclafane, with Martha God knows where and in God knows what condition, Chantho and Jack in the clutches of evil, and the Master was sorry?

"I never said I was sorry," spat the Master. "Oh, what's the point? You haven't said one word to anyone for weeks; I seriously doubt you'll start now. Besides, why should I care if my staff knows what I've said? They wouldn't dare breathe a word or I'd have the Toclafane dice them to pieces…fine, Doctor, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I killed you that day, and while I'm at it, I'm sorry for every life I've wasted, all the blood I've split, every day I darkened your doorstep with my presence. And, most of all, I'm sorry I ever loved you."

At this cascade of emotion, the Doctor, showing a physical reaction for the first time in the last two months, slowly turned himself around to look at him, drinking in the Master with wide, sad brown eyes. He parted his wrinkled lips slightly, as if wanting to say something, but not being able to find the words.

The Master looked away, disgusted with himself. "Pity. That's all you ever had for me, isn't it? Even as boys, you only befriended me because I had no one. That's probably why you left me on Gallifrey, because you were sick and tired of me. But I just couldn't take a hint, could I? Stupid, needy Koschei, that's all I am to you-no, don't!" The Master exclaimed, swiftly putting up a mental shield as the Doctor psychically reached out. "I don't need your pity. Not anymore." He roughly grabbed the handlebars of the Doctor's wheelchair. "Come on. Back to your doghouse."

The Doctor seriously doubted that he would be invited back to the Master's office, but exactly two weeks later, he was summoned back. Even more surprising, there was a feast laid out before him.

"I had the cooks prepare it," said the Master, who was leaning against the wall behind the Doctor, beyond his line of sight. "I know you must be hungry." The Master had severely cut the Doctor's food rations after his outburst. "Well?" said the Master impatiently. "Eat."

The Doctor noted that the Master was smoothly gliding over their last meeting, as if it hadn't happened. Well, the Doctor wasn't going to be the one to bring it up, that was for sure. Instead, he obediently grabbed a plate and slowly filled it up with a myriad of the delicacies before him. There were finger sandwiches, quiches, deviled eggs, and all sorts of other lavish dishes. And the desserts! He was rather hungry, and this seemed to be the Master trying to atone for his verbal eruption. That's the way it was with the Master sometimes. Explosion, then punishment, then apology.

"You've got me all psychoanalyzed, haven't you?" said the Master, hearing all this run through the Doctor's head.

The Doctor ignored him and instead bit into a chicken salad sandwich.

"I'm surprised at you, Doctor. You're not even the least bit suspicious I've poisoned you? That the bits of celery in that sandwich aren't shards of broken glass?"

No, answered the Doctor honestly as he swallowed. That's not your style.

"Ugh, that is so typical of you," said the Master disgustedly. "Reason and empathy. You really haven't changed, have you? At least not from your fifth incarnation, anyway, while we're on the subject of celery."

Oh, so we're doing that again, eh?

"Of course," said the Master. "You know how I hate to leave things unfinished. Since I know you wouldn't dare disclose what we've discussed in here, I have no qualms about telling you-I found your fifth extremely attractive."

The Doctor rolled his eyes so far back in his head, his brown irises threatened to disappear forever.

"Oh, shut up," growled the Master, though the Doctor had said nothing verbally. "Yes, yes, I know you knew that. I don't care. Your fifth was…well, for want of a better word, pretty. There, I said it. I swear, one snicker, and-"

Oh, calm your death threats. As embarrassing as this is, I'm actually finding all this fanboying quite flattering.

"I am not 'fanboying'!" exclaimed the Master indignantly. "Anyway. Your fifth…as good looking as he was, I did find his constant schoolboy routine annoying at times. The matter of Castrovalva, for instance. I mean, really. All I did was take your little TARDIS boy prisoner for a while. I wasn't going to keep him forever. It's not like you were doing anything with him anyway."

That is honestly disgusting. I can't believe you think that I would ever-

"Oh, don't get high and mighty with me, Doctor. That Scottish lad you carted around in your second incarnation. He couldn't have been what, two, three years older than little Adric?"

That's different. Jamie was an adult, and I wasn't as old as I was in my fifth body, either!

"Tell me, Doctor…did you ever make use of your fifth?"

Of course. I battled Davros, the Mara, played a good bit of cricket-

"You know that's not what I mean."

The Doctor outwardly sighed. Yes. I traveled with a Trion. His name was Turlough.

"Yes, I believe I met him a few times. On Sarn, and before that, in 13th century England. He was a ginger, wasn't he?"

Yes.

"Yes, I remember him. How did you meet?"

The Doctor let himself reflect on his memories of Earth, 1986, and his old friend, the Brigadier, who had retired from UNIT and had become a schoolteacher. He'd had one pupil who was not all he seemed…

The Master, reading the Doctor's mind, burst into laughter. "Oh, that's rich! That is too rich!"

It wasn't funny.

"But isn't that just so you, Doctor? He tries to kill you, and he becomes your partner instead! Makes me wonder what would happen if you ever invited a Dalek to travel with you…"

I think we've had enough talk about my fifth life, don't you?

"Spoilsport. Have it your way, then," said the Master, making a comic pouty face. "Let's move on to your sixth, then. Good Lord, that one…"

And what exactly was wrong with my sixth?

"I'm not sure; how long do you have?"

Oh come on, I wasn't that bad-

"Doctor, did the lights go out in your TARDIS's wardrobe that day? Rassilon, you looked like you went shopping at a circus rummage sale."

I had fun clothes, the Doctor defended.

"Fun for who, exactly? It hurt everyone's eyes just to look at you. What were you thinking with that getup?"

Well, to be fair, it was a rather rough regeneration for me. In my stupor, I nearly strangled poor Peri.

"Yes, what a tragedy that would've been."

Why did you have such a vendetta against her?

"Not sure, really. Perhaps it was the fact that she tried to squash me with her shoe in my poor, defenseless, shrunken state on Sarn."

Serves you right, always swinging that TCE around, decimating poor, innocent people.

"And in any event, you can't blame a rocky transformation on that ridiculous blonde perm or that loud, rude mouth. Definitely a downgrade after Five."

Didn't stop you from coming to my aide in the Matrix and helping to defeat the Valeyard.

"Well, I could hardly let an eviler entity than myself run about the universe, could I?"

Oh, right. That's why.

"Don't flatter yourself, Doctor. It didn't become you in your egomaniacal sixth, and it certainly doesn't now."

Fine, fine, whatever you say. What about my seventh? Do you remember him?

"Vaguely," remarked the Master, rubbing his chin. Pity this form couldn't grow a proper beard. "I wasn't exactly in my prime at those points. The first, I was basically an overgrown cat, the other, simple ashes, thanks to the Daleks, and then a gelatinous snake creature. But yes, I recall that one."

And what did you think?

"Well, let's say this," said the Master, smirking. "He was a little better than the last."

Oh, you're terrible.

"Thank you," said the Master, preening. "Oh come on, Doctor, there's no use in pretending that Seven wasn't short. For heaven's sake, Lucy is taller than he was. What was he, five six? Five seven? Still…anything's an improvement after Six, I suppose."

I think you're exaggerating just a smidge. I can't believe you out of all people are judging on height.

"Touché," grumbled the Master. "But let us not forget that I was taller than you in your eighth."

That doesn't count, because once again, you were in a stolen body. Only this time, you had the misfortune of choosing one that couldn't sustain you as well as a Trakenite's could.

"Well I was aiming for yours, you know. I hadn't known I would be resurrected…mind you, I still wouldn't mind having that body. Your eighth was quite the looker, even gave Five a run for his money. I fondly remember those long brown curls, and how they'd look red in the sun…not that you got much sun in San Francisco. I kept you all too busy."

The Master thought of pointing out that his succeeding body, the one given to him by the Time Lords, would have been taller than Eight, but neither of them really wanted to think about the war.

The Doctor too, was thinking about that time. He remembered wishing the Master was there. It had been a lonely and cold fight, and he'd wished he'd had someone there who knew how to fight and be a companion. Like Leela. Or Jack. Or the Master.

"Your ninth," said the Master, directing both their thoughts away from that horror. "Angry fellow, him."

You would be too.

"Naturally," replied the Master.

The Doctor waited, but the Master said nothing more. An uncomfortable silence passed between them.

...we have to talk about it at some point, said the Doctor.

The Master's eyes narrowed. "We're not discussing it."

You can't pretend it didn't happen.

"It wasn't me!" spat the Master. "Sam Tyler was a stupid ape."

Sam Tyler was beautiful.

"Sam Tyler is dead!" the Master hissed into the Doctor's face. "There is only me now. The Master, lord of all!"

The Doctor's brows knit together, and the Master hated that look, of concern, of his stinking sympathy.

Sam Tyler was more you than you know, the Doctor said. He's the man I used to know. I didn't realize it before. But Sam was a part of you that I thought had died long ago. But he's still there. Kosch-

The Master struck the back of his hand across the Doctor's face sharply. "Shut up!" he snarled. "That name means nothing to me anymore. There is no Koschei and Theta Sigma. You killed those boys, and from the rubble, you made us. I am the way I am because you made me that way!"

"You cannot blame me for what you have become!" the Doctor exclaimed verbally. His voice was hoarse and croaky after weeks of disuse. His ancient face was contorted with indignant fury. "Theta Sigma may have hurt Koschei, and I'm sorry, I am so sorry for that. But you made your own destiny. You chose to be a monster. I once believed I could change you, turn you back to the good man you were, but I was wrong. You're evil. And you can't be saved."

The Master glared down at him, fists curled. But after a moment, he turned away. He called the guards to take the Doctor away.

"Get out," he said quietly.

Chapter 66: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 6

Notes:

Special Valentine's Day episode. The chronology may be off. But for the story's sake, pretend "The Sound Of Drums" took place in January.

Chapter Text

That was January. Now, it was February. The Doctor knew that much. His Time Lord sensibilities told him so. However, he wouldn’t have even needed them to know that. He would’ve have been able to guess from the parish pink, red, and white decorations strewn about the Valiant that it was Saint Valentine’s Day.

“L is for the way you LIE to me…O is for the odious memories...” The Master had a good singing voice (and the Doctor tried not to remember the way Sam had sung to him after the first night they’d made love), but he was absolutely murdering Nat King Cole’s beautiful love song. “V is very, very…my dear Doctor, you look distressed. Something wrong?” He smirked.

The Doctor, sitting in his wheelchair parked by the window, looked away and turned his gaze to the outside.

“Oh, do lighten up, Doctor dear. I would think this would be one of your favorite days of the year. You are a sap, after all.”

The Doctor said nothing. He’d been silent since that day in the Master’s office.

The Master put down his tea, got up from his office chair where he’d been spinning around and singing his own versions of famous romantic ballads, and slunk over to the Doctor’s side. “Doctor…will you be my Valentine?” he asked mockingly, plastering a lovelorn puppy dog look on his face.

You’re married.

“I adopted a puppy. Not the same thing,” said the Master, wrinkling his nose.

Leave me alone.

The Master genuinely frowned. He kicked the side of the Doctor’s chair childishly. “You’re not playing the game!” he shouted as he stomped out of the room.

Several hours later, the Master was back. “Look, Doctor,” he said, shoving a red, heart shaped box under the Doctor’s nose. “Chocolates. Straight from Belgium. You love chocolates. Won’t you try one?”

The Doctor said nothing.

“I promise, they’re not poisoned. Go ahead.”

The Doctor said nothing.

“Fine, I’ll eat one for myself and show you.” The Master opened the box. “Mmmm…it’s so good,” he said, shoving one in his mouth. “You really don’t know what you’re missing.”

The Doctor said nothing.

“Oh, come on, Doctor, I went all the way to Belgium to get these for you. I don’t even like Belgium. I don’t eat waffles, I’m a pancake man. Go on and try one.”

The Doctor said nothing.

The Master pouted. “I’m going to sit here and eat all these chocolates right in front of you. Then you’ll be sorry.” And he did. He’d paused before each one, as if expecting the Doctor to speak up or take one for himself, but the Doctor said and did nothing. Soon, the box was empty.

The Master growled, throwing the box on the ground. “I’ll make you talk, old man.”

The Doctor said nothing. The Master stomped away.

“Aren’t these roses beautiful, Doctor?”

Silence.

“This teddy bear is so cuddly.”

Silence.

“Have some wine, Doctor?”

Silence.

“The cooks made you a steak dinner.”

Silence.

The Master puts his hands on his hips, running his tongue over his teeth in deliberation. “Alright. Fine. Try this one on for size.” The Master whipped out his laser screwdriver.

The Doctor winced in anticipation, but the Master, to his surprise, de-aged him. He was back to normal. “There! Young and beautiful, just like me.” The Master grinned. “How do you like me now, Doctor?”

The Doctor stood on shaky limbs, still recovering from the metamorphosis. He looked at his youthful hands, and touched his wrinkleless cheeks. He seemed…happy for a moment. Then he remembered himself and glared at the Master. This changes nothing.

“THEN WHAT WILL, DOCTOR?!” The Master shouted, letting his rage fly. “What should I do?! Turn off the paradox machine, leave the Earth?! No. That’s not what you want. You’ve never wanted me to stop being who I am. You like me as your villain. You relish the times you get to triumph over me. When you get to be the hero. You get off on it! You treat the universe like it’s your own very stage on which you can produce your own melodrama. And here’s me, the mustache-twirling antagonist – sometimes literally!”

That’s not true!

“Oh, isn’t it?! The time with the Axons, you said you’d leave this horrid planet that the Time Lords stranded you on to come and travel with me, but you LIED! And then on Uxarieus, I offered you half the universe, and you still reject me.”

“I never asked for that!” The Doctor finally shouted, anguished.

“Oh, now he speaks up! Listen to me, mate, if you didn’t want control, you wouldn’t swan off around the universe playing God. You think you’re so different from me but the only difference is, YOU’RE JUST A SELF ENTITLED LIAR!”

The Doctor shouted out loud and lunged at the Master, their bodies crashing to the floor. The Doctor sat atop the Master; he reared his fist back and punched the Master in the nose hard. Suddenly, he gasped, snapping out of his sudden flash of rage.

The Master was lying on the floor. Blood was gushing from his nose. He was laughing quietly.

The Doctor was breathing hard. “What the hell are you laughing about.”

The Master’s eyes rolled back in his head, apparently terribly amused about something. “Your own personal Valentine’s Day massacre.”

The Doctor stood up, shaking. He and the Master stared into each other’s eyes.

The Master sat up, pulling a hankie out of his breast pocket. He pressed it to his bleeding nose, wincing slightly, but still grinning. “You think you’re on the side of the angels, my dear. But the truth is, we’re both demons. One of us is just more honest about our tendencies.”

The Doctor stepped back. “I will never be like you.”

“You already are.” The Master smiled, almost ruefully. “In the end…there’s always just you, and me. Always together.”

The Doctor swallowed. “No. Never. Because you and I might be equals, but we will never be the same.”

The Doctor grabbed the Master’s laser screwdriver and pointed it at himself. The Master watched stoically as the Doctor forcibly aged himself back to his elderly state. The old Doctor collapsed on the ground. He stared at the Master for a moment, then ambled back to his pup tent, closing the flaps behind him.

The Master got up from the ground and went to seek medical attention. Then, he changed into his pajamas, showered, and went to bed. He’d stopped smiling.

“Harry,” Lucy whined as the Master climbed into bed. “It was Valentine’s Day and you spent all day with the Doctor.”

“Shut up, Lucy.”

Chapter 67: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 7

Chapter Text

After the Saint Valentine's Day ordeal, the Doctor saw little of the Master for two months. The evil Time Lord seemed to be intent into throwing himself into managing the human race. It was thankfully quiet.

Then, one day in April…

A loud alarm sounded in the main conference room. The Doctor's eyes fluttered open. He painstakingly got up from his fetal position inside his pup tent and crawled out.

Officials were rushing about, calling out orders and speaking into their communication devices. Several Toclafane were orbiting about the ceiling.

The main doors flew open and the Master strode through them, no trace of whimsy today. "What's the situation?" he demanded, all business.

"Sir," said a Toclafane, hovering forward, faithfully following the Master's businesslike gate across the room to the command center. "Extraterrestrial invaders have entered Quadrant 6. Their formation indicates intention to attack."

"They won't get the chance. Do we know what species they are?"

"Negative, Mister Master. Running diagnostics of offending vessels now," a second Toclafane reported.

"I want one third of the Toclafane in Quadrant 6, now!" The Master ordered.

"Yes, Mister Master." The two Toclafane hurried away.

The Doctor struggled into his wheelchair, unnoticed by anyone in the panic. He wheeled forward to the base of the command platform. "Invaders?" he croaked.

The Master caught notice. "Oh, speak up, you old git," he growled.

The Doctor patiently opened a psychic link with the other Time Lord. There are invaders?

"How prescient of you to notice, Doctor, yes, there is a fleet of starships hovering over Latin America this very moment, you idiot!"

It was just a question. No need to get nasty.

"Oh, don't talk to me like a nagging housewife. Go make yourself useful and sit in the corner. I can't deal with you right now, I have a domain to fend for."

"My lord," said a woman with a clipboard, coming forward. "The Toclafane have established video feed of the invading fleet."

"Pull it up on the big screen," the Master commanded. A few keystrokes later, the live feed was projected on the presentation board. The Master studied the ships momentarily, then swore in Gallifreyan. "Jond'hosianite! The Jond'hosians are a war race, one of the most fearful in the universe. The human race can't possibly have weaponry strong enough to battle them."

"What do they want, sir?" asked the PA.

"Resources, settlement, who cares? The Jond'hosians will squish the human race like ants at a picnic." Growling with animalistic rage, the Master flipped an office chair. "Damn it!"

"Surely we can reason with them, sir," the PA suggested. "Offer them a truce?"

"You don't know the Jond'hosians, puny Earthling. They don't bargain, they don't spare lives. Think of them as the Dread Pirate Roberts of the galaxies. There is no hope, no chance…" With another great roar, the Master stomped around and flipped a conference table on its side. Everyone jumped at the reverberant sound. "It's not fair!" the Master screeched. "I worked so hard! I earned control of this planet fair and square! It's just! Not!...FAIR!" The Time Lord kicked over a few more chairs and threw a potted plant across the room.

"Mas…ter."

Everyone stopped dead at watching the Master having a tantrum and turned to look at the Doctor.

The Master glared at the other alien. "What? What do you want, old man? Want to gloat about my inevitable defeat now?"

The Doctor coughed, and then said croakily, "I think I can help."

The Master laughed. "You? What can one decrepit old man do?"

"Set up…comms…with the Jond'hosians. Let me…speak to them."

"Talking? Of course that's what you want to do, talk, it's all you ever do. Your bloody gob can't fix everything, you little twerp!"

The Doctor glared at the Master. "Do you want to keep your precious dominion or not?"

"Yesss," hissed the Master.

"And I want to keep the human race alive."

"So?"

"So let. Me. Help."

The two Time Lords glared at each other for the longest time, then finally the Master looked away, muttering, "Fine. I'll establish a communication line."

Five minutes later, the Doctor was sitting in front of a laptop computer. On the screen there was the face of a Jond'hosian warrior, the fleet leader.

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Horg-e-lorg-lorg-o. Thorg-i-sorg i-sorg thorg-erg Dorg-o-corg-torg-o-rorg sporg-e-a-korg-i-norg-gorg." Hello. This is the Doctor speaking.

"Dorg-o-corg-torg-o-rorg? Worg-e knorg-e-worg o-forg arg morg-a-norg o-norg-corg-e whorg-org corg-a-lorg-lorg-e-dorg horg-i-morg-sorg-e-lorg-forg thorg-erg Dorg-o-corg-torg-o-rorg. Horg-erg horg-e-lorg-porg-e-dorg morg-yorg ai-lorg-i-norg-gorg forg-a-thorg-e-rorg whorg-e-norg horg-erg worg-a-sorg sorg-u-forg-forg-e-rorg-i-norg-gorg frorg-o-morg arg grorg-ea-torg i-lorg-lorg-norg-e-sorg-sorg. Irg worg-a-sorg norg-org morg-o-rorg-erg thorg-a-norg arg a korg-i-torg a-torg thorg-erg torg-i-morg-erg." Doctor? We knew of a man once who called himself the Doctor. He helped my ailing father when he was suffering from a great illness. I was no more than a kit at the time.

"Yorg-ou-rorg forg-a-thorg-e-rorg i-sorg thorg-erg grorg-ea-torg korg-i-norg-gorg Porgorrorgortorg? Yorg-ourg morg-u-sorg-torg borg-erg lorg-i-torg-torg-lorg-erg Horgormorgorblorg. Irg worg-a-sorg arg gorg-ue-storg a-torg yorg-ou-rorg chrorg-i-storg-e-norg-i-norg-gorg." Your father is the great king Porgorrorgortorg? You must be little Horgormorgorblorg. I was a guest at your christening.

"What are they saying?" the PA timidly asked the Master, who was watching the Doctor as he spoke with the Jond'hosian dignitary.

"I don't know. The TARDIS's bloody psychic circuit doesn't seem to work on this language," the Master muttered back.

"I-torg i-sorg arg grorg-ea-torg horg-o-norg-o-rorg torg-org morg-ee-torg arg rorg-e-norg-o-worg-norg horg-e-rorg-org o-forg ou-rorg porg-eo-porg-lorg-erg. Borg-u-torg whorg-yorg horg-a-vorg-erg yorg-ourg cong-o-norg-torg-a-corg-torg-e-dorg u-sorg?" It is a great honor to meet a renown hero of our people. But why have you contacted us?

The Doctor cleared his throat again. "Thorg-i-sorg plorg-a-norg-e-torg a-norg-dorg i-torg-sorg porg-eo-porg-lorg-erg a-rorg-erg u-norg-dorg-e-rorg morg-yorg prorg-o-torg-e-corg-torg-io-norg. Irg morg-u-sorg-torg rorg-e-sporg-e-corg-torg-forg-u-lorg-lorg-yorg a-sorg-korg yorg-ourg torg-org lorg-ea-vorg-erg a-torg o-norg-corg-erg." This planet and its people are under my protection. I must respectfully ask you to leave at once.

"O-forg corg-ou-rorg-sorg-e! Worg-erg worg-i-lorg-lorg rorg-e-sorg-e-torg ou-rorg corg-o-o-rorg-dorg-i-norg-a-torg-e-sorg i-morg-morg-e-dorg-i-a-torg-e-lorg-yorg. Plorg-ea-sorg-e forg-o-rorg-gorg-i-vorg-erg u-sorg forg-o-rorg trorg-e-sorg-sorg-porg-a-sorg-sorg-i-norg-gorg, o-horg horg-o-norg-o-rorg-e-dorg o-norg-erg." Of course! We will reset our coordinates immediately. Please forgive us for trespassing, oh honored one.

"Thorg-i-norg-korg norg-o-thorg-i-norg-gorg a-borg-ou-torg i-torg. Morg-i-storg-a-korg-e-sorg horg-a-porg-porg-e-norg. Horg-a-porg-porg-yorg trorg-ai-lorg-sorg." Think nothing about it. Mistakes happen. Happy trails.

The Doctor leaned back in his seat. The Master stalked over to him. "Well?"

Suddenly, two Toclafane flashed in. "Mister Master, our new friends are turning around," chirruped one sadly. "We didn't even get to play with them."

"We would have loved to seen their insides," drawled the second. "See what pretty colors their blood was."

"I bet it was green! Oh, green is ever so lovely," sighed the first.

"Should we play tag with them, Mister Master? Go after them and burn them, slash them?" the second asked almost hopefully, their sweet and childlike yet unquenchably bloodthirsty temperament unnerving the Doctor.

The Master smiled. "I'm afraid not, my pretties. Those friends would have just brought bigger friends to protect them."

"Then we'd play tag with them too."

"We'll let them go for now. Perhaps the next friends who come along. Now, back to work," the Master bade. The Toclafane disappeared, and the officials in the room began cheering with relief.

The Doctor and the Master's eyes met.

Now wasn't that easier than bloodshed?

The Master's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "Not bad, Grandpa. You saved us today. But I doubt if your precious diplomacy, your hope and agape can help next time."

The Doctor had to bite back a smile. We'll see.

The Master looked away. "I've seen enough of him today. Put him back in his tent…but give him extra rations for his assistance," he added as he strode out of the room.

The young man in the suit who wheeled the Doctor back to his tent and helped him out of his chair whispered in his ear, "Thank you for saving us, sir. And, er…Jack told me to tell you…chin up. It won't be long now, or something."

The Doctor let himself smile. It was the first he'd heard from any of his friends in months. "Thank you very much…what's your name?"

"Ianto, sir."

"Well thank you, Ianto. It took bravery to deliver that message."

Ianto painfully smiled back, nodding his head and backing away as the maid came forth with his food.

Just a few more months. That's all. A few more months. Hold on, Jack and Chantho. Keep your spirits up. And Martha, wherever you are…stay safe.

The Doctor looked down at his tray. To his pleasant surprise, there was in fact an extra slice of bread.

Huh. Well how about that?

Chapter 68: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 8

Notes:

This one focuses more on Lucy than the Master. Sorry. :(

Chapter Text

The Doctor thought maybe, just maybe, the Master might soften after the experience with the Jond'hosians. If anything, he only grew worse.

"Jack says he spends more time torturing him nowadays," Ianto whispered to him one day while bringing him his food.

The Doctor wouldn't have been able to eat, had he not been so ravenously hungry.

Lucy, to the Doctor's surprise, began spending more and more time in the conference room, when the Master wasn't there. She would sit in one of the cushy office chairs and swivel around mindlessly. Then one day, she started talking to the Doctor.

"Is it comfy in there?" she asked him out of the blue one day in May. "In your pup tent? Do you have enough pillows? Do you want another blanket?"

The Doctor looked up at her incredulously.

Lucy swung her leg back in forth. "Harry doesn't sleep with me in my bed anymore. Is that odd?"

The Doctor grunted.

"You knew Harry as a child, didn't you? What was he like?" Lucy asked.

Brilliant. Clever. Amazing. Kind. The love of my life.

The Doctor didn't say any of these things. He just looked at his lap.

"And who perfected wormhole generation?"

Koschei raised his hand. "Dacmorossianendar of the House of Frixar, Professor."

"Correct. And when and where did Dacmorossianendar use his revolutionary technology to travel to?"

Koschei put his hand up. "The planet Earth, also known as Terra, but formally known as Sol 3, in the year 1963 AD."

"I see Master Oakdown studied," said Professor Yevarnokovikiar, amused, making the class laugh. "And tell me, Koschei..."

Theta was sitting next to Koschei, gazing at him, his head propped on his hand.

"...can you name the first organism Dacmorossianendar came in contact with?"

Koschei's brow furrowed, thinking hard. "It was a canine...a 'dog'. Breed, Scottish terrier. Dacmorossianendar called him Astro."

Yevarnokovikiar nodded proudly. "Excellent." He smiled at the rest of the class. "You all should strive to study as hard as Koschei does."

The class mumbled, and the professor said, "I think that is enough for the day. You may all break for the midday meal."

The students couldn't get out fast enough. Koschei gathered up his books and began to head out. But outside the classroom, in the corridor, when he was alone, he was stopped.

"You're a real smarmy git, aren't you?" inquired an unpleasant nasal voice. Koschei turned to see that it was Keschal, along with his sidekick Pollox. Koschei didn't like them. "You're making us all look like dolts. You're real smug, aren't you?"

"I just know the answers," he mumbled.

"You know what happens to Time Twits who are too smart for their good?" Pollox said, rubbing his knuckles menacingly. "You ever hear about Omega, brain boy? He was a smart guy too. And he disappeared, without a trace."

"Be a shame if that happened to you," added Keschal.

"Are these guys bothering you, Kos?" said a voice. Theta had appeared, and he was glaring at the bullies.

Koschei was too timid to answer.

"I think you ought to leave now, fellows," said Thete.

Keschal and Pollox grumbled and glared, but they skulked away with their tails between their legs. They knew better than to mess with Theta.

Kos looked up shyly at Thete. "Thanks," he said softly.

"Why don't you stand up to them, Kos?" Theta asked. "You're smarter than them. You're better than them."

"I'm not bigger than them," Kos pointed out scoffingly.

Thete shrugged. "That doesn't stop me."

Koschei shifted uncomfortably.

"Come on." Theta touched his elbow. He had a huge crush on the gorgeous brainiac, but didn't dare let on. "Let's go get some lunch."

Koschei looked at him shyly. He nodded, and they walked away together.

"It's strange," said Lucy thoughtfully. "I love him. But I don't like him very much."

The Doctor nodded.

Lucy smiled at him blankly. "You're a good listener. I like you. I'll come back later, okay?" Humming mindlessly to herself, she strolled out of the conference room.

Well, it was obvious that the Master had hypnotized her. The Doctor hopefully assumed he hadn't forced her to do anything she wouldn't agree to in her right mind further than marriage. But the Master was, all things considered, still a gentleman. A murderer, a torturer, a maniac. But not that. Never that.

Lucy regularly came to visit the Doctor, chattering to him, the Doctor listening - or rather, pretending to listen. The Doctor supposed she didn't have many people to talk to. The Master obviously didn't care about her, and the staff were all too afraid of the Time Lord's wrath to act out of order.

Lucy sighed longingly, gazing out the window. "It's May," she said. "It's springtime down below. I used to tend a flower garden in the spring in my backyard before I met Harry. I grew lilies and daffodils and marigolds and snapdragons...they were all so colorful and lovely and fragrant. I miss Earth," Lucy admitted. "I go down there occasionally, but usually I'm tied to Harry's hip. I don't even get to do my own shopping, did you know that? Someone on staff goes down and picks things out for me. And it's all skirt suits and stuffy things that make me look like Hilary Clinton. No cotton, no jeans, no trousers at all. Nothing that's my style at all. But Harry wants me to look presentable, they say."

Sorry about that, the Doctor would have said if he was speaking. Or cared about her problems at all.

"He talks about you, you know," said Lucy suddenly.

The Doctor looked up at her.

"He's angry with you. He says you ruined his life. He hates you." Lucy turned to look at him. "So much that I think he's in love with you."

The Doctor blinked, looking away.

Lucy didn't say anything more.

"I heard about your friend. Martha? They're saying she's a terrorist. She's down there, somewhere," Lucy told him confidentially. "She's in South America right now, or that's what Harry thinks. The Toclafane are hunting her. What is she doing?"

The Doctor did not answer.

"You want her to save the world, don't you? Why? Can't Harry just rule? What's so bad about that?"

Seriously?

"He's a bad man, isn't he?" That's what Lucy asked him one day.

The Doctor, as usual, didn't respond. But the answer should have been obvious.

"Am I bad then? For being with him?"

The Doctor looked up at her for a moment, then shook his head.

"Thank you," said Lucy softly.

It was May, the Doctor thought to himself. The Earth just needs to hold on a little longer.

Chapter 69: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 9

Chapter Text

The next months were thankfully quiet. The earth survived two months without major incident. And to the Doctor's constant worry, the Master remained unseen.

But during the month of August, the Valiant suffered attack.

It was a brave little rebel group of humans, from Africa, hoping to shoot down the flagship and take out its captain in the process. Their attempt, while noble, was fruitless, as they were sorely ill-equipped to bring down a ship of such magnitude as the Valiant. The renegades, the Doctor heard later from Ianto, received cruel, but not so unusual for the Master, punishment.

Nevertheless, the Valiant was damaged in the attack. There was a fire on board. The passengers and staff were being evacuated onto land, on the island of Madagascar. The Doctor shuddered to think how many species of plants and animals were being upset by the aircraft's presence.

In all the kerfuffle, the Doctor was left to his own devices to escape. He struggled through the smoke ridden, debris strewn hallway in his wheelchair. But as he passed a perpendicular corridor, he heard a weak cry. "Chan, Doctor, tho..."

"Chantho!" the Doctor huffed, wheeling toward the cry. Through the smoke, he could spy the Malmooth-masquerading-as-human trapped under a large piece of debris. "Chan, Doctor, help, tho!" she whimpered, so distraught that she'd forgotten her assumed human vernacular.

In his weakened state, the Doctor could not lift the mass off of her. But he managed to set up a lever-wedge system, propping up a metal bar on a bit of wood and shoving the end under the pile. Then he leaned all his own weight on the other end of the bar, and was able to lift it up enough for Chantho to wriggle out from underneath it.

The Doctor gasped for breath. "Are you alright?!" he inquired.

"Cha-yes! Yes, I am fine!" Chantho exclaimed.

"Good! Go! Run!" the Doctor exclaimed, giving her a coaxing push down the corridor, toward the exit. He gave up the wheelchair as a bad job, it would only slow him down anyway. He crept along the walls, slowly reaching the outside. But the smoke became too much, and soon he was coughing and choking. He tripped over a piece and rubble and fell to the ground. He could feel a bruise blooming on his overly ripe skin. He dragged himself along the ground, but finally gave into smoke inhalation and blacked out.

Outside the craft, on the beach, the Master was looking around frantically for his fellow Time Lord. He saw no sign of the old man anywhere. He grabbed one of his staff by the elbow. "Hopkins! Where is the Doctor?!" he growled.

Fear sprang into Hopkins' eyes. "I don't rightly know, sir. I thought he'd been brought out with all the others-"

"You idiot!" The Master seethed. "It was your responsibility to ensure his safety! Gah! Must I do everything myself?!" Knowing full well the answer, the Master turned around and jetted toward the burning craft.

"Mr. Saxon, I must protest, it's not safe-!" called another of his executive staff, but the Master pushed her down into the sand, paying her no mind other than that.

"Doctor!" called the Master, coughing and sputtering as he sprinted up and down the hallways. His eyes were stinging from the particles in the air.

Finally, he came across the brown mass, passed out on the floor. "No, Goddamnit, no!" the Master exclaimed, rushing toward him. He hoisted him over his shoulder and charged out of the structure, narrowly missing a collapsing beam.

The Master laid the Doctor out on the sand once they were outside in the clean air. Several of the medical staff stepped forward, but the Master snarled at them, hunched possessively over the other Time Lord's body. "Do you have four lungs?! Didn't think so. Back off!"

The Master squeezed the Doctor's nose shut, wrenched his mouth open, and exhaled hard into him. And repeat. Then he performed compressions on both the Doctor's hearts. Finally, the Doctor gasped, his brown eyes snapping open. He retched and struggled for air.

"You stupid bastard! You could have died!" shouted the Master. He could have punched the old man, but he resisted. Instead, he took the Doctor by the shoulders and shook him. "Why didn't you get out, hmm? Saving one of your little pets? I should've thought as much. When will you get it through that thick skull, Thete? These humans don't matter! You do."

The Doctor looked up in surprise at the use of his old nickname. "Master..." he murmured, the first word the other Time Lord had heard him utter in months.

The Master rose, stumbling backward. The Doctor was staring up at him with hope, trying so desperately to get through to him.

I love you, Theta, said the child's voice in his mind, trying to reach outward to the Doctor. I'm trapped. Help me! Love me again, please...

"Shut up!" the Master shouted at the both of them. He narrowed his eyes to slits to glare at the Doctor. "You want to talk now, after all this time?!"

The Doctor swallowed.

The Master whirled around and whipped out his laser screwdriver, vaporizing the unwitting Hopkins suddenly. The man hardly had time to scream. "No, no!" the Doctor screeched hoarsely. "What did you do that for?!"

"He was annoying me," hissed the Master. "And also it was to teach you a lesson. We are not apes, Doctor! We are gods, walking among insects. I'll squish those I find detestable." The Master glowered over his shoulder at Chantho, who was getting a scratch on her arm tended to. The Malmooth stared back at him in fear. The Master pointed his screwdriver at her threateningly. "I'll start with you, sweetheart-!"

"Stop this!" The Doctor roared. The Master turned back to see that the old man had risen to his feet. There was angry lightning crackling in his chocolate eyes. "Leave her alone! There's been enough carnage today."

The Master tromped across the sand and grabbed the Doctor by the face, dragging him down to face level. "Anger me again and I'll kill her and all your little friends right in front of you. Now shut up! And stay shut up!" He knocked the Doctor down into the soft sand and marched away to oversee the acquisition of a repair crew to get the Valiant up and running again.

This had been a bad day. At least the Master had the consolation that the Freak had probably died multiple times in the blaze, trapped in his basement prison.

At the Master's slave driving, the Valiant was back in operation before nightfall. But as they waited on the beach, the Doctor sat in the shade of a tree away from shore. Except for a few bruises, he was well enough. Physically anyway...

Well, there was about to be one perk to this awful day.

"Pssst." Someone was whispering to him from the flora. "Doctor!"

The Doctor very carefully peered out of his peripheral.

A face was peering out at him from under a bush. She was cleverly camouflaged with mud and leaves, but the eyes were unmistakable. The Doctor allowed himself a tiny smile. "Martha!" he breathed.

Martha smiled, daring to crawl a tiny bit closer. "Hello. How are you?"

The Doctor shifted, pretended he was looking out at the ocean. "A bit worse for wear, but holding up. What about you?"

Martha laughed humorlessly. "I tell you, this whole crossing the globe, living on the lam lifestyle has really helped my diet. I'd recommend it over Atkins anyday."

"Sorry," said the Doctor out of the corner of his mouth. "I'm so sorry." And boy did he mean it. He may have been cooped up in the Valiant for the past 7 or 8 months, but at least he was being fed regularly. Poor Martha had to fend for herself. God, what I've done to this poor girl. The whole planet, really, but mainly her.

Martha shrugged. "I don't mind."

"Was that some of your lot? Brought down the carrier?"

"No, I was trying to stop them! I couldn't risk them inadvertently killing you, and Chantho and Jack."

"Ah, Jack's been through worse," the Doctor joked. "Still...do you think we're doing this the right way? Letting the world suffer like this? Maybe it'd been better for the renegades to annihilate us and put an end to all this."

"No, Doctor, you can't think like that!" Martha fiercely whispered. "You have to hold onto hope. If your plan goes the way it should, they'll never even remember any of this hell! The Master's misdeeds will have been undone, like they never even happened."

"You're right," the Doctor agreed resignedly. "How's your progress?"

"We're on continent number six," said Martha, exhausted, but proud. "I'm working my way north. I'll be home for Christmas."

"Good girl," said the Doctor. "Only a little longer, Martha."

Martha smiled ruefully. "I have to go. I can't stay in this area for long, not with the Master's sniffer dogs loitering around. I'm risking everything just being here now."

"Go," whispered the Doctor. "Everything rests on you, we can't have you getting caught now...it was nice to see you again."

The Doctor felt her hand squeeze his ever so briefly. "You too." Then she disappeared, like a ghost.

The Doctor exhaled, reassured that Martha was alive and well, but feeling no better about the Master or...any of it.

He watched the suited figure pacing on the beach, ordering his minions about. Oh Koschei...I thought, just for a second...that you were still in there.

Chapter 70: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 10

Summary:

The Doctor plays nurse. Also, another Torchwooder cameo!

Chapter Text

No matter how the Master liked to bluster, Time Lords were not gods. Not even close. They were born. They could die. They could be hurt. Or even-

"RETCHOO!"

All the patrons of the Valiant snapped to attention as their lord and Master, for the very first time in anyone's memory...save one certain individual...sneezed.

The Master himself looked surprised, then annoyed. He shook his head briefly, then glared down the table at his executive staff. "Anyway. As I was saying, the rebel hordes in China are-ACHOO!!!"

By now, everyone was looking worried. Even the Master.

A wary looking attendant hesitantly stepped forward and offered the Time Lord his handkerchief. The Master snatched it from him and loudly blew his nose in it, scowling. "What the hell is in the cleaning stuff in this place, Tryphtyda flower?" he growled (it was the only known plant in the cosmos to make a Time Lord have an allergic reaction, after common Earth rosemary, but that case had been exclusive only to the Doctor's fifth regeneration).

"W-we can find out, sir," said Leslie Sinclair, his new chief of staff. He'd gotten bored and disintegrated the last one on Tuesday.

"No no no," grumbled the Master. "It's just an aberration. There, you see? It's stopped." The Master opened his mouth, then paused. "What was I talking about?"

"The Chinese rebels, sir," supplied Sinclair.

"Ah, thank you." The Master took a breath, but when he opened his mouth-

"ACHOOOO!"

"That's it!" The Master rose from the table and began to storm from the conference room. "I can't work like this! I'm not to be disturbed for the rest of the day. The idiot who dares to bother me joins the Freak in the torture chamber." The double doors slammed behind him.

The Doctor, resting quietly in his wheelchair in the corner, rolled his eyes. Ever the drama queen.

But by the next day, the Master was laid up in bed, suffering some dread illness. He was a sneezing, coughing, mucus-y mess, delirious with fever.

The staff wasn't sure what to do. They'd never seen their ruler in such a state. They gave him Earth remedies as best they could, but they just didn't seem to take. They knew not to give him aspirin, but that was about it. They simply didn't understand his alien biology. Finally, around midday, they decided to use their last resort.

The Doctor was awoken from his nap by the sensation of being physically de-aged back to his normal, youthful self. He looked up at the guard in question who'd rejuvenated him.

"Get up," ordered the guard. "The Master is sick. Only you'd know what's wrong with him."

"Oh, there's plenty wrong with him, that's for sure," the Doctor grunted as he wobbled unsteadily to his Conversed feet, like a newborn fawn standing on its own for the first time. He looked the guard in the eye. "Take me to your leader," he said unironically.

The Doctor was led to Harold Saxon's suite, where a member of the medical staff was at his side, monitoring the Time Lord's health. The Master was fast asleep, his normally meticulous neat light brown hair mussed and tousled from where it had rubbed against the pillows. The boyish unruliness of it sent a pang through the Doctor as he was reminded of his lost companion.

The Doctor slipped his finger in between the other Time Lord's lips, under his tongue, taking his temperature. His eyebrows raised. "Almost 29 degrees Celsius," he remarked. "That's a hell of a fever."

"29 degrees is a fever?" said the medic incredulously.

"For a Time Lord, it is. An average, healthy temperature for one of us is about 25 and a half degrees. Go and get some cold compresses, we need to break his fever," the Doctor instructed. The attendant nodded and left the room.

The Doctor sat on the bed beside the ailing Time Lord and studied him. Now that he wasn't dancing around and barking orders, now that he was holding still, the Doctor could really have a look at him. Not that the Doctor didn't know his face - he could draw Sam Tyler in his sleep. But this wasn't Sam. The Doctor kept forgetting that.

The Master moaned softly in his sleep, shifting. His hand found the Doctor's and slid on top of his, his thumb idly stroking over his skin. "Theta," the Master murmured in his delirium.

The Doctor, pained, squeezed the Master's hand back. He stayed that way until he heard the attendant returning, then regretfully released his hand to make way to let him apply the compresses. "Has he shown any other symptoms?" The Doctor inquired. "Spots, rash?...scales?"

The medic seemed unfazed. "None that I've observed. Not that I'm dying to catch a glimpse of whatever's under those jim-jams."

"Well, I think it's safe to say that this is definitely a human virus. We haven't had contact with any other alien species since the Jond'hosians, and we didn't even meet them physically. If it was alien it would have reared its ugly head long before now...listen, what's your name?"

"Owen Harper," answered the medic.

"Right. Well, Owen Harper, I think all he needs is just basic care. Don't worry about it too much though, I'd rather take care of him myself."

Owen cleared his throat. "Listen, mate. I've been thinking. He's vulnerable right now...wouldn't it just be better to...you know." Owen silently drew a line across his neck, the universal sign for kill him. "I mean, I know he's your...species-mate or whatever, but you can't possibly like him anymore than we do. Wouldn't you rather have him out of the way?"

No, I'd rather have my friend back, the Doctor thought bitterly. He swallowed hard. "And what of the Toclafane? If their Master dies, they'll seek revenge on the human race. The earth would be razed to ashes. Believe it or not, the man lying in that bed is the only thing that's keeping mankind from total annihilation. Is that what you really want?"

Owen gulped. "No. I-I didn't think of it that way," he admitted.

Yeah, well, you wouldn't. You're just a human. You only see the evil tyrant. You never saw the good, brilliant, kind being this man used to be. Before I helped him destroy all that, the Doctor thought bitterly. "Theta," the Master called in his sleep again, as if on cue.

"He keeps saying that," said Owen, staring at the Time Lord. "Why's he speaking Greek?"

"Who knows," the Doctor lied. "He's delirious. We have to keep his temperature down. Hopefully he'll start sweating this thing out and be healed up soon."

"Yeah. Right," said Owen, and the Doctor could tell he wasn't so keen on that. "What do you suggest we do to help that along?"

The Doctor pondered for a second. "Do we have any celery on board?"

The Doctor and Owen worked to get the Master to full health, and finally he was awake and aware of his surroundings. It happened the next day. The Doctor was sitting in an armchair across the room reading a book when the Master opened his eyes. The Doctor looked up at the slight disturbance.

The Master grunted as he shifted in the bed, his body achy from lying in the same position for so long. He eyed the Doctor. "What happened," he mumbled, rubbing at his sleep-encrusted eyes.

"You got sick. I think you contracted influenza," replied the Doctor.

"The flu? I caught some nasty little human illness? How inappropriate," the Master spat. He glared at the Doctor. "I don't understand how you spend all your time with those walking germ factories. I'm blaming you for this, by the way."

"Oh, yes, there's a new development," the Doctor snapped back, slamming his book shut in frustration. "You get yourself into these situations because you feel you've got something to prove to me and everyone else, then you pin it all on me when your half baked, asinine little plots don't go your way."

The Master squinted at the other Time Lord. "I thought we agreed you weren't talking."

"You're the one who asked," grumbled the Doctor, crossing his legs, leaning back in the chair, and reopening his book.

A few long minutes of silence passed as the Master stewed in his own sulking and the Doctor read the same passage over and over again without really absorbing any of the words on the page. Finally, the Master said, "What's that?"

The Doctor pointedly ignored him.

"Doctor." The Master tossed a throw pillow at his head. "Speak to me, please. What's in that glass on my nightstand?" He was indicating the glass full of greenish-yellow frozen juice beside his bed.

The Doctor, taken off guard by the unbidden "please", decided to oblige. "It's a mixture of ice, orange juice, and celery."

"I hate celery," whined the Master.

"Yeah, but you know it has healing properties for our kind. That's why you fed it to me on Castrovalva while I was ailing from regeneration sickness. So drink up."

The Master harrumphed and grumbled, but finally he worked himself into an upright position and sipped from the straw. He pulled a face as he tasted the concoction. "Blegh. Next time, more orange juice." He forced down some more of the stuff. Then he stared into his glass thoughtfully. "Do you ever think about it? Castrovalva?"

The Doctor was again, a bit surprised. "...I don't know," he finally answered.

"I built it for you," said the Master. "A whole planet. You didn't even appreciate it."

"Kind of hard to appreciate it when you'd kidnapped poor Adric and tortured him and used him as your supercomputer. And besides, you were trying to kill me. Again."

The Master snorted. "You know, you're not nearly as smart as you think you are."

The Doctor furled his eyebrow at him. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, if I'd really been trying to kill you, again, Doctor, why wouldn't I take my chance when you were more vulnerable? I had ample opportunity. Why would I go to the trouble of healing you up first?"

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I don't know...because you're a madman?"

"We're both mad, Doctor," said the Master. "So please, tell me why I helped you. Surely you can figure it out - even a child could see the reason."

Deep down, the Doctor did know the reason. But he couldn't let himself admit it. "Because...you like a challenge. You've got an ego, like me. If you killed me while I was vulnerable, it would be an easy victory. It wouldn't be worth your while."

The Master stared at him long and hard. Finally he lifted the straw to his lips again. "Yes, of course. That must be the reason." He gazed at the Doctor as he drank.

The Doctor, suddenly uncomfortable, shifted in his chair, throwing his long, skinny legs over the arm and sitting in it crossways so he wouldn't have direct eyeline to the spectacle. He could still feel the Master's eyes upon him. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

A few days more, and the Master was as good as new. He had the Doctor escorted to his office. "I granted that Harper boy leave to visit his fiancée's grave as reward for being helpful during my...time of respite," the Master said. "Now, Doctor. I'll grant you one request...within reason. Don't think I'm going to just give up my claim to the Earth or some such nonsense."

The Doctor inhaled. "I want to see Jack."

The Master's eyes went cold and dead. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "Why."

"To see if he's alright."

"He's an immortal freak, Doctor, of course he's alright."

"Can I see him or not?"

The Master glared at him. A vein seemed to pulse in his temple (the Master wasn't...jealous, was he?).

"Fine," growled the Time Lord. "Five minutes. And you'll be supervised. And he won't be released from his bonds. AND no touching. Got it?"

Definitely jealous then. "Fine," said the Doctor.

The Doctor could feel the Master's chilling glare on his back as he left. Any minute progress they might have made while the Master was ailing was undone by the Doctor's request.

Two guards brought the Doctor down to the boiler room. A horrendous sight awaited him. Jack, trussed up by chains, his clothes and hair in disarray and his skin covered in soot. His body was scratch free, but that was because of his regenerative powers. The Doctor was sure he'd been through hell this past year. And it wasn't over yet. Just more guilt to add to his conscience.

Jack, however, greeted the Doctor with his signature wolfish smile, as if he was perfectly alright, instead of in constant excruciating pain. "Well, you're the prettiest thing that's walked in here in eight months. What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" he quipped, chuckling weakly.

The Doctor smiled ruefully back, sliding his hands in his pockets. "I would ask how you're doing, but..." The Doctor gestured to the whole set up.

"Well, I haven't died today, so that's something," said Jack. "Yet. I'm sure that's about to change. I hear our lord and Maestro is back to full health again, thanks to you."

"I had to help him," said the Doctor. "Not much of a choice."

Jack nodded. "Yeah, but...couldn't you at least have dragged it out some? Made him suffer?" He laughed.

The Doctor continued to smile, even though he winced internally. "When the Valiant went down, Martha made contact with me."

Jack's eyes lit up. "She's alive?"

"Oh yes. A little worse for wear, like all of us, but she's alive. And I don't know where she is now, she's most likely fled Africa, so don't bother trying to interrogate me," the Doctor added to the guards.

Jack was positively beaming. "Then there's still hope."

"Always hope, Jack," the Doctor agreed.

"I see Chantho sometimes. Poor girl. She's so scared, Doctor."

"I know," said the Doctor, staring at the tips of his Converse. He wished he could offer some kind of comment like, only four more months now. But then the guards would overhear and pass along the information, and the Master would suspect that something was up.

Jack seemed to read his mind, because he chose that moment to ask, "You don't happen to know the date, do ya? Kind of lose track of stuff like that in here."

The Doctor cleared his throat. "30th of August, I believe."

The Time Lord could see the Captain making the calculations in his head. "Good. Good. Thanks, Doc."

"Alright. Time's up," said one of the guards.

The Doctor sighed. "I'd hug you if I could, Jack."

"Mmm, then I'd say, is that a sonic screwdriver in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?" Jack winked.

"Oh, stop it," laughed the Doctor, rolling his eyes as the guards led him away.

But inside, he was troubled. Will we make it four more months? What if the Master snaps one day and murders Chantho? Or Jack just doesn't come back to life one day? Or Martha gets found by the Toclafane? The Doctor swallowed as he was aged back to his wizened state. Can my resolve last till then?

Chapter 71: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 11

Notes:

Chapter based on "Last Of The Time Lords" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 30, 2007 (1/5).

Chapter Text

January, 2010

Citizens, rejoice! Your Lord and Master stands on high, playing track three.

It was the anniversary of the Master's reign on Earth, and the Time Lord was a nastily happy mood. He twirled happily as he danced in the conference room to the Scissor Sisters' "I Can't Decide". He grabbed Lucy, draped in a floor length red gown, by the hands and pulled her into a sloppy, open-mouth kiss. It was a bit gross for him.

With a malicious grin, he twirled Lucy around and walked away, plopping down in the office chair at the head of the room and spinning around in it once. He took a swallow from the tea cup Martha Jones's mother, Francine, who was dressed as a maid, had set down before him, grimaced, and spat it out. Too much milk. He lobbed the cup onto the hardwood floors and glared at Francine.

Then he bounded up the stairs, while singing along to the bridge of the song, and rang his handbell, prompting the Doctor to crawl out of his pup tent. "I won't deny, I'm gonna miss you when you're gone," the Master serenaded him mockingly as the Doctor struggled to his feet. He hopped down the stairs two-at-a-time, and grabbed the Doctor by the lapels of his pinstripe suit. "Oh, I could bury you alive, but you might crawl out with a knife and kill me when I'm sleeping, that's why!" The Master shoved the Doctor into his wheelchair, pushing him around the conference room in circles. "I can't decide whether you should live or die!" the Master sang cheerily. "Oh, you'll probably go to heaven. Please don't hang your head and cry. No wonder why my heart feels dead inside. It's cold and hard and petrified! Lock the doors and close the blinds, we're goin' for a ride!"

They pulled to a halt in front of a porthole, and the Master showed the Doctor what his Earth had become in the past 364 days. "It's ready to rise, Doctor," said the Master proudly. Several Toclafane floated past the window. "The new Time Lord empire. It's good, isn't it?...Anything?" The Master waved his hand in front of the Doctor's blank face, but the Doctor just continued to stare dully out the window. "No? Anything?" The Master sighed in disgust.

The Doctor hadn't spoken for the last couple of months. He had been in a zombie-fied state, not even giving the Master the tiniest reaction. And the Master knew why.

The Master followed the Doctor's dead brown gaze out the window at the floating spheres outside. "Ohh, but they broke your heart, didn't they, those…Toclafane? Ever since you worked out what they really are…"

"Break my hearts," the Doctor was muttering to himself one day. "Break my hearts. What does that mean?"

"What?" said the Master, looking up from some plans. "Does the frog speak?"

"The only thing I haven't figured out," said the Doctor, half to the Master, half to himself, "is the Toclafane. What are they?"

"What are-" The Master trailed off and smirked. "Poor, poor Doctor. You still don't know. Perhaps it's better that way. To quote Rihanna, you're so ugly when you cry."

"Why?" croaked the Doctor. "Tell me what they are."

The Master slowly smiled. He walked across the room and looked outside the ship. "They're playing. Isn't it sweet?"

"What. Are they," the Doctor repeated insistently.

The Master was silent for a while. "You always tried to teach me the value of human life, Doctor. Let's just say…I finally learned my lesson."

"The value of human life, what do you…" The Doctor trailed off. The sickening truth slowly dawned on him.

"Those poor people on the rocket…hurtling toward oblivion. I saved them. Delivered them to my dominion. My Utopia." The Master finally turned to smile at the Doctor. "What god has ever treated his creations kinder?"

The Doctor just stared at him in aghast, horrified disgust.

"The Toclafane say Martha Jones has come back home…now why would she do that?" the Master asked.

The Doctor finally looked at him. "Leave her alone," the old Time Lord whispered hoarsely.

"But you said something to her, didn't you?" the Master pushed. "On the day I took control. What did you tell her?"

"I have one thing to say to you," said the Doctor. "You know what it is."

"Oh no, you don't!" the Master said loudly, standing up. He took a hold of the handlebars on the Doctor's chair and pushed him several feet away. "Come on, people! What are we doing?" the Master shouted, clapping his hands. "Launch Day in twenty four hours!"

No one was going to defeat him. Not this time.

At three o'clock, the Master's perfect haven was besmirched.

Condition red, repeat, condition red! shouted a voice on the loudspeaker as alarms began going off.

"What the hell," growled the Master. He had just been enjoying a splendid massage. How dare someone have the audacity to pull a stunt on his special day.

As the Master dashed to the control deck to find out the problem, Mrs. Jones snatched the Master's suit jacket, which he had carelessly left on the back of an office chair, and tossed it to the Doctor, who caught it in midair. The Doctor pulled the laser screwdriver from his inner pocket and aimed it at the Master.

The Master sighed. "Ohh, I see." He half-spiritedly put his arms up.

"I told you," said the Doctor quietly. "I have one thing to say."

After a second, the Master began to laugh. The Doctor tried to work the controls of the laser.

"Isomorphic controls," the Master said, grinning triumphantly as he plucked the screwdriver from his long-fingered hands. "Which means they only work for me. Learned that from you, pet." The Master winked. Then he punched the old man in the face.

The Doctor let out a grunt as he toppled to the floor.

"Here," said the Master. "Let me show you how it's done." He took a shot, narrowly missing Mrs. Jones. The woman cried out in panic as she ducked. "Say sorry!" he demanded.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Mrs. Jones wailed from on her knees in distress.

"Mum!" chirped Tish, darting across the room to her mother's side.

"Didn't you learn anything from the blessed Saint Martha?" the Master mocked as he strode down the staircase. "Siding with the Doctor is a very dangerous thing to do. Take them away," he ordered the guards. As they ushered the Joneses away, the Master hoisted the Doctor up off the floor. "Okay, gotcha." He dumped the Doctor into a nearby swivel chair. "Oh boy. There you go, Gramps." The Master perched himself on the conference table before the Doctor, spinning the elderly Time Lord's chair about with his foot idly. "Oh, do you know, I remember the days when the Doctor, oh, that famous Doctor, was waging a Time War, battling Sea Devils and Axons. He sealed the rift at the Medusa Cascade single handed." The Master shook his head in amazement. "And look at him now. Stealing screwdrivers. How did he ever come to this?...oh yeah, me." The Master burst into mad laughter.

"I just need you to listen," said the Doctor insistently.

No, it's my turn," said the Master, gritting his teeth. "Revenge! Best served hot. And this time, it's a message for Miss Jones." He looked at an official standing off to the side. "Get a camera in here and set up a transmission. Everyone on the planet is to watch or be punished by death." As the woman in the suit scurried off, the Master sneered at the Doctor. "Lights, camera, action. Time for your closeup, Doctor."

An hour later, the Master had his broadcast rolling. "My people," he said to the camera. "Salutations on this, the eve of war. Lovely woman. But I know there's all sorts of whispers down there. Stories of a child, walking the Earth, giving you hope. But I ask you, how much hope has this man got?" The Master strode over to where the Doctor sat, showcasing his miserable state to the audience. "Say hello, Gandalf."

The Doctor blinked sullenly.

"Except he's not that old, but he's an alien with a much greater lifespan than you stunted little apes. But what if it showed?" The Master circled in front of the aged Time Lord and pulled out his screwdriver. "What if I suspend your capacity to regenerate? All nine hundred years of your life, Doctor. What if we could see them?"

The Master zapped him.

Emitting a cry of agony, the Doctor convulsed wildly in his chair. "Older, and older, and older," the Master narrated. As the other Time Lord decayed, he sank down in his chair, shrinking rapidly. "Down you go, Doctor. Down, down, down the years."

When the Master finally let up, there was nothing visible to the eye left of the Doctor, except his clothes.

"Doctor," the Master addressed the pile of fabric.

The Master knew the Doctor wasn't dead. A Time Lord mind could live on, even if its form had decayed almost to dust. He knew that all too well.

After a moment, there was movement under the clothes. Finally, a tiny, grey, shriveled hand came out of the Doctor's collar. It was followed by a bald head about the size of a lemon, with bulging brown eyes. The little creature the Doctor had degenerated into looked up at him fearfully.

Well. It hadn't been what the Master was expecting. But it would work.

The Master turned back to the camera. "Received and understood, Miss Jones?" he asked. The transmission shut off.

Chapter 72: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 12

Notes:

Chapter based on "Last Of The Time Lords" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 30, 2007 (2/5).

Chapter Text

The Doctor was put into a birdcage, hung on display in the main room, and fitted with some doll's clothes to cover his modesty. The Joneses had been locked in the brig and Jack now was being watched by an armed guard 24 hours a day. The Master and his biddy bride came in to see the Doctor. "Tomorrow, they launch," the Master announced. "We're opening up a rift in the Braccatolian space. They won't see us coming. It kind of scary."

"Then stop," pled the Doctor hoarsely, staring up at the Master with his bulging brown eyes.

"Once the Empire is established," said the Master in a more neutral tone, "and there's a new Gallifrey in the heavens, maybe then…it stops."

Lucy idled at the other end of the table. The Master came close to the cage. "The drumming," he said softly. "The never ending drumbeat…ever since I was a child. I looked into the vortex. That's when it chose me. The drumming, the call to war. Can't you hear it?" the mad Time Lord whispered intensely. "Listen, it's there now, right now!...Tell me you can hear it, Doctor. Tell me."

The Doctor gripped the bars of his cage with his tiny hands. "It's only you," he whispered.

The Master raised his eyebrows. "Good," he responded conversationally. Still just insane, then.

A Toclafane floated in, perching on a stand extending from the center of the conference table. "Tomorrow, the war," it declared. "Tomorrow we rise, never to fall."

"You see?" said the Master, stepping back from the cage and extending his hand to gesture to the little Toclafane. "I'm doing it for them. You should be grateful! After all…you love them…so very, very much," he spat at the Doctor.

The Doctor looked at the floor of his cage sorrowfully.

The Master took a seat at the table. "I took Lucy to Utopia," he informed the Doctor casually. "A Time Lord and his human companion. I took her to see the stars. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

"Trillions of years into the future, to the end of the universe," Lucy responded blandly.

"Tell him what you saw."

"Dying," Lucy said. "Everything dying. The whole of creation was falling apart, and I thought, there's no point. No point to anything. Not ever."

The Master sneered at the Doctor. "And it's all your fault. You should have seen it, Doctor. Furnaces burning. The last of humanity screaming at the dark. All that human invention that had sustained them across the eons. It all turned inwards. They cannibalized themselves."

"We made ourselves so pretty," chirped the sphere.

"Regressing into children," the Master explained. "But it didn't work. The universe was collapsing around them. So I did what you never could, my dear Doctor. I saved them. I saved the human race."

"By using the TARDIS," croaked the Doctor. "It could only go between the end of the universe and 21st century London. But the fabric of reality could never support such a wild contradiction. Humankind, annihilating its own ancestry. So you had to make some alterations to my ship."

"My masterpiece, Doctor," the Master said with a wry grin. "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 small voice. "Not just Earth, the entire universe."

"I'm a Time Lord. I have that right," the Master claimed.

"But even then, why come all this way just to destroy?"

"We come backwards in time, all to build a brand new empire lasting one hundred trillion years," proclaimed the Toclafane, in a childlike yet bloodthirsty tone.

"With me as their Master. Time Lord and humans combined. Haven't you always dreamt of that, Doctor?" he asked mockingly.

The Doctor stared him down bleakly through those Milk Dud like eyes.

The Master rose and got close to the cage again. "Human race. Greatest monsters of them all….night, then." With one last Joker-esque grin, the Master took Lucy by the wrist and lead her out, leaving the Doctor alone in the dark.

On Launch Day, the Master was awoken with a merry surprise – Martha Jones had been located.

The Master grinned upon hearing the news. "Fabulous," he said. This really was going to be the perfect day.

Not even bothering to comb his hair or get dressed, the Master threw on his dressing gown and immediately scampered down to the conference room, where the Doctor was curled up asleep in his cage. "Guess what."

The Doctor was still blinking awake, but the Master told him anyway, barely containing his excitement. "I found our little Martha. And today, I'm going to kill her. Right before your very eyes. Isn't that exciting?"

The Doctor stared him down icily.

The Master giggled and reached through the bars to pinch the Doctor's tiny cheek. "I really have outdone myself this time, haven't I? Oh don't look so down in the dumps, Doctor dear. You and I are going to reign in a whole new Time Lord Empire."

"If you think I'm making babies with you, you are sadly mistaken, my friend," said the Doctor sourly.

The Master just smirked. "Happy Launch Day, Doctor."

Chapter 73: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 13

Notes:

Chapter based on "Last Of The Time Lords" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 30, 2007 (3/5).

Chapter Text

They found Martha Jones on a miserable little street in Leeds, hiding out in a hovel full of people. The Toclafane waited before every house, ready to slice and fry any stupid ape who tried to shield her. "Martha," the Master called jeeringly. "Martha Jo-ones! I can see you! Out you come, little girl. Come and meet your Master." He and his armed guard looked around expectantly. "Anybody? Nobody? No? Nothing?" the Master asked. He looked at his guards and ordered, "Positions."

The soldiers raised their weapons at all the doors. "I'll give the order unless you surrender," the Master threatened. "Ask yourself: what would the Doctor do?"

After a long pause, the door to one of the shanties opened and Martha Jones, at last, appeared.

"Yes, oh!" The Master began applauding as the soldiers trained their weapons on her. "Very well done. Good girl. Martha, Martha, Martha." The Master shook his head. "Did you miss me? I've missed you. It's just like the old days, isn't it? Well, not quite like the old days, ey? I've gotten a haircut since then."

Martha swallowed hard. "Is my family alright?" she demanded.

"They're alive, if that's what you're asking," said the Master. "Not the most chipper bunch lately, but you know how it is. You'll be with them very, very soon."

Martha stared him down miserably. "I don't understand. You were my friend. How did you become this?"

The Master rolled his eyes. "Uuuugh, not you too. The Freak tried to 'get through to me' too those first few weeks. Surprisingly resilient, but then, he's an immortal. Finally got the point eventually – Sam. Tyler. Is. Dead."

Martha stiffened. "I guess he is."

"Wise girl," the Master complimented. "For an ape. Now that we've gotten that out of the way – bag. Give me the bag."

Martha started to take a few steps forward.

"No, stay there. Just throw it," ordered the Master. He knew all about the gun Martha had been building out of parts scattered all over the world.

Martha bit her lip reluctantly, then shrugged her backpack from her shoulders and tossed it into the air.

The Master casually shot it with his laser screwdriver.

The backpack exploded in midair, leaving nothing but small flakes of singed canvas, which fluttered to the ground like snow.

The Master smiled at her. "And now, good companion, your work is done." He went to aim his screwdriver at her, then thought better of it. "No. I think I'll bring you aboard instead, kill you there. You, me, the Doctor – it'll be a family reunion. Boys, cuff her." He took a big sniff as Martha was constrained by a soldier. The Time Lord could smell the sun coming close to rising. "Almost dawn, Pidge. And planet Earth marches to war."

"You're a mad man," Martha spat at him.

The Master rolled his eyes. "You're just getting that now?"

Back onboard the Valiant, everyone was gathered in the main room for Martha's execution and the launch of Archangel – the catalyst of a new age of Time Lord rule over the cosmos.

Citizens of Earth, rejoice and observe.

A couple of armed guards escorted Martha in. She looked nervously at her family, standing in a row on one side of the room, then at Chantho and Jack on the other. Her expression turned sad, but hopeful when she locked eyes with the Doctor in his cage.

As she approached where the Master stood, at the head of the room, looking down upon them all from the command platform, the Master pointed his screwdriver at her. "Your teleport device," he demanded. "In case you thought I'd forgotten."

Reluctantly, Martha pulled Jack's vortex manipulator out of a leg pocket of her militaristic trousers and tossed it to the Master.

The Master caught it. "And now…kneel."

Martha got to her knees with a scowl.

The Master spoke to the room. "Down below, the fleet is ready to launch. Two hundred thousand ships set to burn across the universe." He grinned manically. Then he touched a button on his controls. "Are we ready?" he asked one of his generals.

"The fleet awaits your signal. Rejoice!" came the reply.

"Three minutes to align the black hole converters," announced the Master, checking his watch. In compliance, a counter on the wall set to 180 seconds activated. "Counting down! I never could resist a ticking clock. My children, are you ready?"

"We will fly and blaze and slice. We will fly and blaze and slice," the Toclafane chanted simultaneously, almost in a satanic fashion, as they whizzed above the Earth.

160 seconds.

The Master took a step forward. "At zero, to mark this day, the child Martha Jones, will die. My first blood. Well…this morning, anyway." He grinned wryly. "This, my friends, is a day…about love. Ah, love. That all powerful driving force that fuels the entire universe. And love is beautiful and fascinating because it can come in so many forms. Love between family." He looked at Martha and the Joneses. Then he slowly turned his gaze to the tiny wrinkled being in the cage. "And love between friends," he sneered.

The Doctor glared back at him.

"And today is about my love. Which my dear children will spread across this planet, and the rest of the universe, for eternity. Now, Martha – bow your head."

125 seconds.

Martha obeyed. The Master raised his screwdriver once more. "And so it falls to me, as Master of all, to establish from this day, a new order of Time Lords. From this day forward-!"

A chuckle suddenly came from Martha Jones.

The Master looked at her, annoyed. "What. What's so funny?"

Martha looked up. "A gun," she said incredulously.

"What about it?" the Master asked bitingly.

"A gun in four parts?" Martha continued.

"Yes," said the Master impatiently. "And I destroyed it."

"A gun, in four parts, scattered across the world? I mean…" Martha rolled her eyes. "Come on, did you really believe that?"

"What do you mean?" asked the Master suspiciously. He looked at the Doctor.

The other Time Lord stared at him defiantly through the bars of his cage. "As if I would ask her to kill."

"Oh well, it doesn't matter," said the Master shruggingly. "I've got her exactly where I want her."

"But I knew what Professor Docherty would betray me," said Martha. "The Resistance knew about her son. I told her about the gun, so she'd get me here at the right time."

The Master laughed uneasily, not really sure what the ape was on about, but was beginning to get a bad feeling. "Oh, but you're still going to die!"

"Don't you want to know what I was doing, traveling the world?" Martha asked.

The Master squinted at her. "Tell me."

Martha smiled, her eyes twinkling. "I told a story, that's all. No weapons, just words."

60 seconds.

"I did just what the Doctor said. I went across the continents all on my own. And everywhere I went, I found the people, and I told them my story. I told them about the Doctor. And I told them to pass it on, to spread the word so that everyone would know about the Doctor."

"Faith and hope? Is that all?" the Master scoffed.

40 seconds.

"No, because I gave them an instruction," Martha replied. "Just as the Doctor said."

30 seconds.

"I told them that if everyone thinks of one word, at one specific time-"

"Nothing will happen!" exclaimed the Master. "Is that your weapon? Prayer?"

15 seconds.

"-right across the world, one word," said Martha, grinning ear to ear now. "Just one thought at one moment…but with fifteen satellites."

The Master raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"The Archangel Network," Jack spoke up, grinning too.

10 seconds.

"A telepathic field binding the whole human race together, with all of them, every single person on Earth, thinking the same thing at the same time! And that word…is Doctor."

Zero.

Suddenly, the Doctor in his cage began to glow.

"Stop it!" the Master ordered. "No, no, no, no, you don't!"

Jack closed his eyes. "Doctor," he began to chant. "Doctor."

"Doctor," whispered Chantho. "Doctor."

"Doctor," said Mrs. Jones.

"Don't!" the Master exclaimed.

All across the world, people were saying his name too. Doctor. Doctor. Doctor.

"Stop this right now. Stop it!"

"Doctor," said Lucy softly.

"Doctor," said Jack.

"Doctor," said Chantho.

"Doctor," said Martha with a smile.

Doctor.

The Doctor had burst from his cage and grown to full size, still appearing extremely elderly, but gradually regaining his youth all the time. His clothes had magically reappeared, properly fitting the Time Lord. There was a brilliant blue-pink-white aura glowing around him, as if he were some kind of celestial god. "I've had a whole year to tune myself into the psychic network and integrate with its matrices," he declared.

"I order you to stop!" the Master shrieked, fear alight in his eyes.

Doctor. Doctor. Doctor. Doctor.

"The one thing you can't do," the Doctor said with a smile. "Is stop them thinking."

He had returned to his normal, youthful appearance, standing tall, floating several feet above the hardwood floor.

"Tell me the human race is degenerate now," said the Doctor. "When they can do this."

"NO!" The Master tried to shoot the Doctor with his screwdriver, but the beam bounced off of his energy field harmlessly.

"I'm sorry," said the Doctor as the Master shot him again and again, but to no avail. "I'm so sorry."

"Then I'll kill them," snarled the Master, aiming from the Joneses.

The Doctor raised a hand and used sudden Jedi powers to make the screwdriver fly out of the Master's hand.

The Master was cornered, like an animal. "You can't do this. You can't do it, it's not FAIR!" he screamed.

"And you know what happens now," said the Doctor calmly.

"No," whispered the Master.

The Doctor began to fly toward him.

"No!" the Master cried as he was backed into a corner and fell to the floor. "No, NO!"

"You wouldn't listen."

"NO!"

"Because you know what I'm going to say." The energy field faded around the Doctor and he lighted on the floor gracefully.

"No," whimpered the Master, curling in on himself, cowering away from the Doctor.

The Doctor calmly walked toward him and knelt on the floor beside him, taking the quivering madman into his arms. The Master let out an anguished sob.

The Doctor leant over and whispered into the Master's ear:

"I forgive you."

Chapter 74: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 14

Notes:

Chapter based on "Last Of The Time Lords" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 30, 2007 (4/5).

Chapter Text

"Living is easy with eyes closed...misunderstanding all you see..."

The Second Doctor looked up in annoyed surprise. He was sitting in a Gallifreyan cell, waiting for judgment to be passed on him by the High Council. "I thought you'd been killed," he grouched.

"I am currently on my ninth regeneration, Doctor. I am trying to preserve my remaining lives as much as possible." The War Chief was standing before the Doctor's cell door, smirking triumphantly.

"And when did you ever find the time to listen to the Beatles?" the Doctor asked incredulously.

"I was curious, Doctor, about your fascination with the humans. I will admit, there are some amusing aspects to their culture. Their art - I'm most fond of Picasso and Van Gogh - and their music. I was intrigued by the pacifist themes of the Beatles's melodies - strangely broad horizons for Earth beings - they're usually so self-absorbed."

"So, do you now understand?" the Doctor asked.

"No," admitted the War Chief. "I still say they are a frivolous race."

The Doctor rolled his eyes.

"I assume you know what is to happen to you next?" the War Chief inquired.

"I know the routine. A forced regeneration and immediate exile. My TARDIS impounded. Zoe, and Jamie. They'll be sent back to their own time," said the Doctor morosely. "Memories wiped of me and all our splendid adventures together."

"It is the natural order, Doctor," said the War Chief with a smirk. "Those primitives do not belong with us."

"I love them!" the Doctor exclaimed, jumping to his feet and gripping the bars of his cell. "They may not be as advanced as our kind, yes, but there is so much hope for them. They have in them kindness and ingenuity and an indomitable spirit!"

"Nevertheless, they are inferior," the War Chief replied. "It is better for your precious pets that they go back to whence they came."

"Jamie will be killed!" the Doctor argued. "He'll be sent back to that heinous battlefield I pulled him from."

The War Chief squinted at the Doctor suspiciously. "Am I incorrect in guessing there is more between you and the piper than comradery?"

The Doctor could not answer him.

"Disgusting," the War Chief spat. "Fraternizing with sub-evolutionary beasts. And to think I ever associated myself with you." He turned and began to march away.

"This is your fault!" the Doctor proclaimed after him. "You and your scheme! I could still be free, with my friends at my side, if not for you!"

The War Chief stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "You mean to say that your misfortune is due solely to me?"

"Precisely," the Doctor declared.

The War Chief smiled cruelly. "Then, my dear Doctor...I win."

The Doctor watched brokenheartsedly as the other Time Lord walked away. When the War Chief was nearly at the exit, the Doctor called out, softly: "Koschei."

The War Chief froze. He looked back at the Doctor, his dark eyes sparkling with deadly alarm.

"I forgive you," said the Doctor earnestly.

The War Chief's face turned sour. He snarled and turned dramatically, striding out in a hurry.

The Doctor slowly sat back down, and awaited his punishment.

Still curled reluctantly in the Doctor's arms, the Master gasped. "My children!"

The Doctor had a realization as the Master squirmed out of his grasp. The Toclafane would be swarming this way to guard the TARDIS. "Captain, the paradox machine!" the Doctor shouted at Jack.

"You men, with me!" Jack ordered some of the troops standing off to the side. Then, he said to Chantho, "You stay here."

The Doctor spotted the Master pulling the Vortex Manipulator out of his pocket, preparing to make an escape. "No!" he shouted, grabbing the Master's hands enclosed around the device. Together they flashed out.

Suddenly the Time Lords appeared down on Earth, near a large marble quarry. "Now it ends, Doctor," the Master declared. "Now it ends!"

The Master's spaceships were preparing to take to the skies. "We've got control of the Valiant," the Doctor declared. "You can't launch!"

"Oh, but I've got this," said the Master, holding up a controller. "Black hole converter inside every ship. If I can't have this world, Doctor, then neither can you." The Master spread his arms theatrically. "We shall stand upon this Earth together, as it burns."

"Weapon after weapon after weapon," the Doctor preached. "All you do is talk and talk and talk" He took a step toward his once best friend and lover. "But over all these years and all these disasters, I've always had the greatest secret of them all...I know you."

The Master's eyes burned with hate.

"Explode those ships, you kill yourself," the Doctor calmly continued. "That's the one thing you can never do." The Doctor held out his hand. "Give that to me."

The Master glared at him in consideration. After a moment's deliberation, the Master reluctantly slid his hand and the controller into the Doctor's waiting hand.

Suddenly the Earth trembled and the two Time Lords clambered to the ground. The Master scrambled to teleport himself away, but the Doctor was too quick. He again grabbed the Manipulator and the two of them disappeared as one and reappeared back on the Valiant.

The airship was tremoring something fierce as the Toclafane ravaged it in attempt to preserve themselves. But it was useless. Jack was hard at work destroying the Paradox Machine. The killer spheres were disappearing from the sky. And the Valiant was caught in the middle of time trying to rectify itself.

"Everyone, get down!" the Doctor hollered over the din. "Time is reversing!" He looked at Martha and cackled joyfully. Martha grinned back.

All the Master's handiwork was undone. Time righted itself and the Earth went back to normal. As the rush of the time-space continuum slowed and settled to its natural, gentle pace, the Doctor sprang up and checked some equipment. "The paradox is broken," he announced. "We've reverted back, one year and one day. Two minutes past eight in the morning."

The Doctor touched some controls on a communication device, and a voice came on over the comm. "This is UNIT Central! What's happened up there? We just saw the President assassinated!"

The Doctor switched it off. "Just after the President was killed, but just before the spheres arrived. Everything back to normal. Planet Earth restored. None of it happened. The rockets, the terror. It never was."

"What about the spheres?" Martha asked.

"Trapped at the end of the universe," the Doctor replied.

"But I can remember it," Mrs. Jones said in confusion.

"We're at the eye of the storm," the Doctor explained. "The only ones who'll ever know." The Doctor turned to Martha's father and smiled congenially. "Oh, hello! You must be Mister Jones. We haven't actually met..."

While the Doctor was distracted with pumping Mr. Jones's hand, the Master made a break for the door. But just at that moment, Jack and his soldier compadres were coming in. Jack caught the Master up. "Whoa, big fella! You don't want to miss the party. Cuffs." One of the soldiers pulled out a pair and Jack slapped them on the Master's wrists. "So, what do we do with this one?" he asked the Doctor.

"We kill him," declared Mr. Jones.

"We execute him," added Tish.

"No! That's not the solution," the Doctor protested.

"Oh, I think so," said Mrs. Jones, raising a pistol that one of the soldiers had dropped in all the confusion and pointing it straight at the Master. She was trembling with emotion, still coping with all the horror she'd witnessed. "Because all those things…they still happened…because of him. I saw them!"

"Go on," the Master whispered harshly. There was a deranged look in his eye. "Do it!"

The Doctor slowly crept to Mrs. Jones's side. "Francine, you're better than him," he said quellingly.

Mrs. Jones choked, her eyes glassy with tears. The Doctor gently touched her wrist, and Mrs. Jones slowly lowered the gun. It clattered to the floor. The Doctor embraced her comfortingly, then handed her off to Martha and the rest of the Joneses. Then the Doctor turned to the opposing Time Lord.

"You still haven't answered the question," the Master said. "What happens to me?"

As painful as it was, a constant reminder of the race he had exterminated, and the dear companion he had lost…there was only one thing to do. "You're my responsibility from now on," the Doctor decided. "The only Time Lord left in existence."

"Yeah, but you can't trust him," Jack protested.

"No," the Doctor agreed wholeheartsedly. "The only safe place for him is the TARDIS."

The Master's forehead wrinkled. "You mean you're just going to…keep me?"

The Doctor hummed consideringly and nodded. "If that's what I have to do." The Doctor looked at Jack. "It's time to change," he said. "I wandered for so long. But I've been shown…that I need someone to care for. Maybe even someone who'll care for me too."

"Doctor." Jack clutched the Time Lord's arm and said quietly to him, "He's not…it won't be the same."

"I know that," the Doctor nodded. "But it'll be something. A new beginning." The Doctor looked back at the Master. "I think it's not too bad."

Bang.

The Master's eyes widened in surprise, stumbling backward. A spot of dark red suddenly appeared in his white shirt.

Lucy Saxon, with a blank look on her face, lowered her gun. The Master's hypnotism had worn off.

No! The Doctor jogged across the room, catching the other Time Lord as he fell to the ground. "There you go," he said quietly, cradling the wounded Master in his arms. "I've got you. I've got you."

The Master grunted. "Always the women," he grumbled, casting a side eye at Chantho.

"I didn't see her," the Doctor apologized.

"Dying in your arms," scoffed the Master. "Happy now?"

"You're not dying, don't be stupid," the Doctor said. "It's only a bullet. Just regenerate."

"No."

"One little bullet, come on," the Doctor insisted testily.

"I guess you don't know me so well," said the Master with a contrary smirk. "I refuse."

No. No, you can't do this to me! "Regenerate," the Doctor pled, beginning to tremble. "Just regenerate. Please. Please! Just regenerate, come on!"

"And spend the rest of my life imprisoned with you?" the Master laughed in his face. "Or maybe it wouldn't even be my life. Perhaps you'd force me into another chameleon arch, make me into your doting little pet again, hmm? You seriously believe I'd choose to live like that?"

"It wouldn't be like that, I promise!" the Doctor exclaimed, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. "Please…it can't end like this. You and me, all the things we've done. Axons. remember the Axons? And the Daleks!"

The Master remained unmoved.

"We're the only two left," the Doctor begged, crying. "There's no one else…REGENERATE!"

The Master chuckled. "How about that? I win." Then, suddenly, he winced. "Will it stop, Doctor?" he asked. "The drumming. Will it stop?"

Then the Master's hazel eyes closed, and the Time Lord fell still.

The Doctor stared at his peaceful face for a moment, then hugged the body of his lost kinsman to his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut as more tears rolled down his face. He cried out in anguish, shaking in grief and rage, and rocked the Master back and forth. The Doctor stayed there for some time, weeping bitterly.

The Master was gone.

Chapter 75: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 15

Notes:

Chapter based on "Last Of The Time Lords" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 30, 2007 (5/5).

Chapter Text

"I don't understand why we have to do it this way," Martha said.

The Doctor flicked his zippo lighter and alighted the torch. "Because he was a warrior. This is how a warrior is sent off."

"He's a murderer," Martha said through gritted teeth.

The Doctor stared at the toes of his Converse. "Well, so am I."

The Master's body, wrapped in white cloth, sat atop a funeral pyre that the Doctor had constructed himself. He wished he could at least have performed the rite on their home planet, the way it was supposed to be done, but that was obviously impossible.

Besides, so many of the Doctor and the Master's battles had taken place on Earth - it might as well be the Master's final battlefield.

The Doctor bent, careful not to let the train of his long coat catch fire, and light up the base of the pyre. Within moments, the structure was in flame. The Doctor stepped back, and stood at Martha's side, watching the blaze. The Doctor nobly ignored the way Martha's eyes were tearing up.

"I'm sorry," the Time Lord quietly apologized.

Martha sniffled. "For what?"

"For telling you that Sam Tyler wasn't real. Of course he was real. He was your friend."

"He hurt me. He hurt my family," said Martha quietly, her voice tight with anger and sorrow.

"No. The Master did that."

"But Sam was the Master."

"No, he wasn't. Not to you. Sam will always be your friend. That's the way you should remember him. Funny, kind, clever Sam Tyler."

Martha shakily sucked air around a sob. "Oh, God, I miss him!" She burst fully into tears, and the Doctor hugged her tightly, letting her cry on his suit.

"So do I," whispered the Doctor somberly.

They remained there as the flames licked at the Time Lord's body, reducing him completely to ash.

The next day, the Doctor, Martha, and Jack, were standing and looking out at the bay together. Martha took a look at all the people milling about, tending to their own trivial problems...and totally safe. "Time was, every single one of these people knew your name. Now they've all forgotten you," said the medical student, amazed.

"Good," said the Doctor. Then the Time Lord peered at the ex-Time Agent out of the corner of his eye. "Jack..." said the Doctor slowly. "I find myself one companion short. If you'd like...I'd love if you came traveling with in the TARDIS again, with me and Martha. I can be less...racist this time, I promise."

Jack laughed. "You know...I've dreamed of this day for centuries. And now I have to say no."

"Alright," said the Doctor, nodding. "I understand."

"No, Doctor, it's...it's not that I don't want to. Believe me, I do. More than anything. But...the Torchwood Institute. The one that...Saxon...was in charge of. I think it's a good idea. An organization to come between this world and the others. But outside the government this time, I think. It needs direction. And with Harold Saxon out of the picture, there's an opening for a new leader."

The Doctor smiled. "That's a big job for just one man."

"Oh, believe me. I have back up." Jack grinned.

Suddenly, Chantho appeared, smiling. She was holding an identification card and a manila folder. "I got documents falsified to prove she's a real person," Jack said. Chantho proudly held out her ID. "Meet Toshiko Sato, official citizen of the United Kingdom and the twenty first century."

"Toshiko Sato," the Doctor pronounced with a grin. "Lovely."

"Chantho - I mean, Tosh - is a genius when it comes to computers and technology. She'll be a huge help to me. And we'll hire other people as well. Made a few contacts on the Valiant that I'll be looking up. A medic named Owen Harper, an alien tech specialist named Suzie Costello. Oh, and this Welshman with the nicest little tush." Jack cackled.

"Well, it sounds like you have everything planned out," said the Doctor. "I'm happy for you, Jack. And you too. Tosh."

"I'm looking forward to protecting this planet. After all, it's taken me in. I owe it that much," said Toshiko.

Jack smiled at her. "Tosh, why don't you go on ahead? The three of us have...you know...things to talk about."

"I understand completely," said Tosh. She came forward and kissed the Doctor on the cheek. "Thank you, Doctor. For everything."

"Good luck, Toshiko Sato," the Doctor replied.

Martha hugged her too. "You'll be brilliant."

Tosh smiled proudly and walked away.

"Well, Captain, if you're planning to stay here..." The Doctor grabbed Jack's wrist, where he was wearing his manipulator. "Then I'm guessing you won't be needing this, eh?"

Jack sighed. "Fair enough. Do it."

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and short-circuited the manipulator. It was now back to being a useless wrist decoration again. Jack whimpered slightly.

"Oh, don't be like that." The Doctor patted his shoulder. "Knowing you, you'll find another way to scoot about the universe as you please."

Jack laughed reluctantly. "And what about me?" he asked, turning serious. "Can you fix that? Will I ever be able to die?"

"Nothing I can do," the Doctor said sheepishly. "You're an impossible thing, Jack."

"Been called that before." Jack straightened and saluted them. "Sir." Jack winked at Martha. "Ma'am." Then he turned away. But something made him stop. "Doctor?" The Captain looked over his shoulder. "I keep wondering. What about aging? Because I can't die, but I keep getting older. The odd little grey hair, you know? What happens if I live for a million years?"

The Doctor laughed at the idea of that. "I really don't know."

"Okay, vanity. Sorry." Jack chuckled sheepishly. "Yeah, can't help it. Used to be a poster boy, when I was a kid living on the Boeshane Peninsula. Tiny little place. I was the first one ever to be signed up for the Time Agency. They were so proud of me...the Face of Boe, they called me."

The Doctor and Martha froze at that.

Jack hummed, reminiscing, then grinned at the time travelers. "I'll see you." Then he walked away, and did not look back.

The Doctor stared in disbelief at the Captain's retreating back. "No," he said.

"It can't be," added Martha, astonished.

"No," said the Doctor, shaking his head, grinning in amazement. "Definitely not. No. No!" They laughed.

Sam would have loved that, the Doctor couldn't help but think.

As Martha was inside her parents' house, talking with her family, the Doctor stood in the TARDIS, alone. He looked around the cavernous console room.

"It's going to follow us."

"The assembled hordes of Genghis Khan couldn't get through those doors, and believe me, they've tried...right - where do you want to start?"

"Um…the inside's bigger than the outside?"

"Yeah."

"Is it alien?"

"Yeah."

"...are you alien?"

"Yes…is that alright?"

"Yeah."

The Doctor touched his console. He breathed out, closing his eyes.

Then he heard the door to the TARDIS swing open and straightened, turning around to greet Martha with a smile. "Right then, off we go! The open road! There is a burst of starfire right now over the coast of Meta Sigmafolio. Oh, the sky is like...oil on water. Fancy a look? Or back in time. We could...I don't know, Charles the Second? Henry the Eighth. I know. What about Agatha Christie?! I'd love to meet Agatha Christie, I bet she's brilliant."

Martha smiled sadly. "I hope you do, Doctor."

The Doctor blinked. "'You'? Don't you mean...'we'?" He could feel his hearts starting to sink.

Martha nodded.

The Doctor slowly exhaled. "Right. Okay."

"Doctor, I'd love to stay," Martha said earnestly. "You have no idea how much. But my family is just getting back on its feet-"

"-of course-"

"-and I'm so close to my exams and getting my medical license-"

"-you're absolutely right-"

"-and all I do is remind you of him."

The Doctor froze. He looked at Martha. "No, you don't. Martha, I swear-"

"Doctor, you and me...and Sam...we had amazing adventures together. But when you look at me...I can tell. You're just thinking of those times. You're thinking of him."

"Martha..."

"Doctor, I love you like you were my own brother," said Martha, cutting him off. "You're my best friend in the whole universe. And that's why I'm not going with you. As we in the medical field would say - you need a clean break."

The Doctor's shoulder slumped in defeat.

"But if you really do need me, Doctor...say the word. And I'll stay," said Martha.

The Doctor just smiled at her. "Martha Jones. The Woman Who Walked The Earth. You're right...you're so right."

Martha looked at her shoes. "I feel like I'm abandoning you," she said.

The Doctor shook his head. "No. You're taking care of me." The corner of his lips quirked wryly. "It's actually kind of nice, for a change."

Martha smiled back at him sadly. She came over and kissed his cheek. "Alright. But promise me - promise me you won't be alone for too long. Find someone. Please?"

"I promise. Oh, Martha Jones, you star, you." He grabbed her up in a hug. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Doctor," Martha said back. Then, with a last look, the medical student left the TARDIS.

The Doctor sighed and hung his head. He was so...very...tired. Perhaps he would just set sail into the Vortex, go to his room, and sleep for several days. Yes, that sounded splendid.

The Doctor walked around his console and pulled on a lever. Suddenly, the TARDIS went flying out of control, and the Doctor was knocked onto his jumpseat. A loud alarm sounded throughout the console room. Ow-ooga! Ow-ooga!

The Doctor struggled to his feet, despite the TARDIS jiggling. He fiddled with some controls and got his ship to calm down. "Stop it!" the Doctor shouted. He looked up at the time rotor. "What was all that about, eh?" he asked the TARDIS. "Eh? What's your problem?"

As the Doctor shuffled around the console, he bumped into someone dressed in cream and crimson colored clothes. "Oh, excuse me," said the Doctor.

"So sorry," the other man apologized. Then both men continued busily about their work. Then they froze and stared at each other.

The Doctor could hardly believe his eyes. Before him stood the fifth incarnation of himself. And the younger Doctor looked just as confused to see the tenth as he felt to see the fifth. "What?!" the Tenth Doctor exclaimed.

The Fifth squinted bewilderedly. "What?" he gasped.

The Doctors approached each other, standing nose-to-nose, and declared at the same time: "What."

Chapter 76: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 16

Notes:

Chapter based on "Time Crash" (mini-episode) by an asshole named Steven Moffat, original air date: November 16, 2007.

Chapter Text

"What."

"Who are you?" The Fifth Doctor demanded.

Doctor Number Ten grinned brightly, drinking in the sight of his younger self. "Oh, brilliant. I mean, totally wrong. Big emergency, universe goes bang in five minutes, but…brilliant!" he squeaked.

"I'm the Doctor, who are you?" The Fifth seethed. Yes, the Doctor had forgotten how uptight this version of himself could be.

"Yes, you are, you are the Doctor," the Tenth Doctor continued to coo, quite literally beside himself.

"Yes, I am, I'm the Doctor," the Fifth huffed.

"Oh, good for you, Doctor. Good for brilliant old you…"

The Fifth Doctor squinted at him. "Is there something wrong with you?"

"Oh, there it goes, the frowny face!" The Tenth exclaimed. "I remember that one. Mind you…" The Tenth Doctor rubbed his hands vigorously over his counterpart's cheeks. "Bit saggier than I ought to be. Hair's a bit greyer. That's because of me, though." The Tenth Doctor reached behind him and fiddled with something on the TARDIS console. "The two of us together has shorted out the time differential. Should all snap back in place when we get you home." The Tenth Doctor cheekily grabbed the lapels of the Fifth Doctor's coat and tugged them together at the waist. "Be able to close that coat again. But never mind that, look at you!" The Tenth Doctor laughed. "The hat, the coat, the cricket-y cricket stuff, the…stick of celery." The Tenth's smile faltered a bit as he eyed the other Time Lord's boutonniere. "Yeah…brave choice, celery, but fair play to you. Not a lot of men can carry off a decorative vegetable."

"Shut up!" the Fifth Doctor snapped.

The Tenth Doctor sealed his lips.

The Fifth Doctor whipped off his hat in a miffed flourish. "There is something very wrong with my TARDIS, and I've got to do something about it very, very quickly, and it would help, it really would help if there wasn't some skinny idiot ranting in my face about every single think that happens to be in front of him!"

"Oh. Okay. Sorry." The Tenth bobbed on the balls of his feet. "Doctor."

"Thank you," said the Fifth with a huff of breath, then turned sharply to his controls.

The Tenth Doctor gasped. "Oh, the back of my head!" he cried in amazement.

"What?" the Fifth Doctor inquired in bewilderment without turning around.

"Sorry, sorry, it's not something you see every day, is it, the back of your own head." The Tenth Doctor gazed, fascinated, at his own cranium, but his delight faltered a bit at the thinning patch in the calm ash strands that had once been cornsilk blonde. "Mind you, I can see why you wear a hat. I don't want to seem vain, but could you keep that on?"

Doctor Number Five whirled around to face him. "What have you done to my TARDIS? You've changed the desktop theme, haven't you?!" he accused. "What's this one, coral? Ugh, it's worse than the leopard skin." He slipped a familiar pair of half-moon spectacles.

"Oh, and out they come, the brainy specs!" the Tenth exclaimed with a giggle. "You don't even need them! You just think they make you look a bit clever!"

Suddenly, the TARDIS sounded a loud whooooooop. "That's an alert!" the Fifth Doctor exclaimed. "Level five, indicating a temporal collision!" The Fifth Doctor dashed to the other side of the console and turned several gauges. "It like two TARDISes have merged…but there's definitely only one TARDIS present…it's like two time zones or more at the heart of the TARDIS. That's a paradox that could blow a hole in the space time continuum the size of..."

The Tenth Doctor helpfully pushed the TARDIS monitor in front of him. The Fifth studied the screen and swallowed nervously. "Well, actually, the exact size of…Belgium. That's a bit undramatic, isn't it? Belgium?" he muttered to himself.

"Need this?" the Tenth Doctor slipped his screwdriver out of his pocket and offered it to his other self.

"No, I'm fine," the Fifth waved him away.

"Oh no, of course, you liked to go hands free, didn't you, like 'hey, I'm the Doctor, I can save the universe using a kettle and some string. And look at me, I'm wearing a vegetable.'" The Doctor teased.

The other Doctor got in his face. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Take a look," replied the Tenth.

The Fifth's eyebrows shot up in realization. "Oh…oh, no."

"Oh, yes."

"You're…oh, no."

"Here it comes. Yeah, I am," grinned the Tenth Doctor, nodded his head.

"A fan," the Fifth Doctor groaned.

"Yeah-what?!"

The TARDIS started emitting a beep-beep-beep-beep. "This is bad," the Fifth Doctor said, his mayfly attention drawn back to the disaster at hand. He moved to handle some more instruments. "Two minutes to Belgium!"

"What do you mean, a fan?" the Tenth exclaimed. "I'm not just a fan, I'm you!"

"Okay, you're my biggest fan," the Fifth amended. He sighed patiently. "Look, it's perfectly understandable. I go zooming around space and time, saving planets, fighting monsters and being…well, let's be honest, pretty sort of marvelous. So naturally now and then people notice me. Start up their little groups." He eyed the other man suspiciously. "How did you get in here?" he questioned. "Can't have you lot knowing where I live."

"Listen to me, I'm you, I'm you with a new face," the Tenth Doctor tried to explain to his other self. He lightly slapped his own cheeks. "Check out this bone structure, Doctor, because one day you're going to be shaving it."

Crong! Crong!

"The cloister bell!" the Fifth Doctor whispered.

"Right on time, that's my cue!" The Tenth Doctor leapt into action, throwing levers.

"In a minute we're going to create a black hole strong enough to swallow the entire universe!" the Fifth Doctor yelped, frantically turning a crank.

"Yeah, that's my fault, actually," the Tenth Doctor paused to admit sheepishly. "I was rebuilding the TARDIS, forgot to put the shields back up. Your TARDIS and my TARDIS, well the same TARDIS at different points in its own timestream, collided and whoo, there you go, end of the universe, butterfingers. But! Don't worry, I know exactly how this all works out. Watch." The Doctor quickly spun a dial around. "Venting the thermobuffer!" He hopped around to the other side and vigorous pumped a doodad. "Flooring the Helmic regulator!" He moved over to a keypad. "And just to finish off…" The Tenth Doctor typed something in. "Let's fry those Zeiton crystals."

The Fifth Doctor grabbed his arm. "You'll blow up the TARDIS!" he protested.

"No, I won't. I haven't," the Tenth Doctor argued back.

"Who told you that?!"

"You told me that!"

The Tenth Doctor punched a button, and the TARDIS began to vibrate energetically. Then, everything went white.

When the two Doctors opened their eyes, everything was fine. "Supernova and black hole at the exact same instant," murmured the Fifth Doctor in awe.

"The explosion cancels out the implosion," the Tenth Doctor added.

"Pressure remains constant," the Fifth finished.

"It's brilliant," said the Tenth confidently.

"Far too brilliant," the Fifth said, casting his other self a suspicious look. "I've never met anyone else who could fly the TARDIS like that."

The Tenth Doctor inclined his head. "Sorry, mate, you still haven't."

"You didn't have time to work all that out. Even I couldn't do it!" the Fifth Doctor insisted.

"I didn't work it out," said the Tenth Doctor, turning to him. He crossed his arms and leaned against the console. "I didn't have to."

The Fifth Doctor's eyebrows lifted. "You remembered."

"Because you will remember," the Tenth nodded.

"You remembered being me, watching you doing that," said the Fifth, and he began to smile. "You already knew what to do because I saw you do it!"

"Wibbly, wobbly-"

"-timey, wimey!" they chorused. The Tenth Doctor laughed and held up his hand for a high five, but the Fifth Doctor only stared at him incredulously. The Tenth sighed and let his hand fall.

The TARDIS made another sound, a cross between a zoom and a purr. "Right, TARDISes are separating!" the Tenth stated as he reached to hit some controls. "Sorry, Doctor, time's up, back to long ago." The Tenth Doctor peeked at himself from behind the time rotor. "Where are you now?" he asked curiously. "Nyssa and Tegan? Cybermen and the Mara and Time Lords in funny hats?"

"Nyssa departed a while back, actually. I was just taking Tegan and Turlough to the Eye of Orion for a bit of rest and relaxation. I just finished another round with the Master, you see," the Fifth Doctor replied.

The Doctor paused. A faraway look appeared in his eyes.

"12th century English countryside," the Fifth Doctor continued, not noticing his counterpart's sudden falter. "This time, he had this mad ploy to replace King John with a shapeshifting robot, off all things. He was trying to disrupt Earth's history by preventing the establishment of Magna Carta. I swear, that man's sole purpose in life is to antagonize me." The Fifth Doctor chuckled, almost fondly exasperated.

The Tenth Doctor put on a convincing smile. "It's funny you'd mention him. He just showed up again in my timeline too. Same as ever."

That was a lie. The Fifth Doctor's Master was insane to be sure, but there was still some love between them, however deeply buried. The Master who had died in his arms three days ago had nothing but burning hot hatred for him. Those two men were nothing alike.

"Oh no, really? Well, it's nice to know there's one fixed point in an ever-changing age," chuckled the Fifth Doctor, and the Tenth envied him. So young, so unburdened. So ignorant of the heartaches to come. "Does he still have that rubbish beard?" the Fifth asked.

"No, no beard this time," replied the Tenth Doctor. Then he tilted his head to the side. "Well, a wife," he revealed.

The Fifth Doctor raised an eyebrow in surprise, but said nothing. Suddenly, his person started fading in and out of existence. "Oh, I seem to be off. What can I say?" He smiled. "Thank you, Doctor."

"Thank you," the Tenth replied.

The Fifth smiled mischievously as he vanished. "I'm very welcome."

The Tenth also smiled and shook his head. Then he noticed the hat sitting on the console. He made a noise and threw some switches. The Fifth Doctor shortly reappeared. "You know," said the Tenth Doctor thoughtfully. "I loved being you. Back when I first started at the very beginning, I was always trying to be old and grumpy and important, like you do when you're young. And then I was you…and it was all dashing about and playing cricket and my voice going all squeaky when I shouted - I still do that, the voice thing. I got that from you. Oh!" The Tenth Doctor placed his leg on the console to show off his snappy red Converse. "And the trainers! And." He put his leg down and pulled his own pair of brainy specs out his pocket and placed them on his face. He grinned. "Snap…because you know what, Doctor? You were my Doctor."

The Fifth Doctor's eyes twinkled. He tipped his hat. "To days to come," he said.

The Tenth bowed slightly. "All my love to long ago."

The Fifth smiled and prepared to disappear again, but then something, a dark article of clothing, discarded and forgotten in a corner, caught his eye. He walked over and retrieved it. "Oh, is this yours?" He held it out to the other.

The Doctor's breath caught in his throat at the sight of it.

"It was simply lying over here," said the Fifth, thinking nothing of it. He looked at the item of clothing in his hands consideringly. "Not quite our style, is it?"

"No, no, it's...thank you," said the Doctor, taking it from him.

The Fifth Doctor nodded and faded away again, his last words echoing over head: "Oh, Doctor, remember to put your shields up…"

The Doctor stared at the worn black hoodie clutched in his hands. He slowly sank to his haunches and hugged the soft fabric to his thin chest, as if he could still feel the phantom warmth left from its owner. He pressed his face into it. Oh, God, it still smelled like him…Sam…

A teardrop rolled down his cheek, and then another, and another. The Doctor was trembling from his attempts to hold back his sobs. He sniffled hard and buried his face into the hoodie again, letting his tears dampening the dark fabric, filling his nostrils with his lost lover's scent.

Sam Tyler, I truly did love you. I loved you so much. I would have loved you all my lives.

But suddenly, his mourning was interrupted as the deafening sound of a horn preluded a ship's prow came crashing through the wall of the TARDIS.

The Doctor coughed as the dust settled, brushing the debris off of him. "What? What!" he squawked.

He spotted a life preserver lying nearby, amid the detritus. He picked up and stared at the letters painted on it in sheer bewilderment.

Titanic.

"What."

Chapter 77: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 17

Notes:

Chapter based on "Voyage of the Damned" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: December 25, 2007.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t the sea vessel that sank in 1912, the Doctor quickly realized. It was a space cruise ship of the same name, orbiting Earth on Christmas Day. Maybe, the Doctor mused to himself, this was meant to happen. A nice, quiet cruise – to take his mind off things. So he put on his tuxedo and quietly strolled on deck, ready for some rest and relaxation.

He should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.

He ended up befriending a waitress on board named Astrid. “You enjoying the cruise?” she asked politely.

“Er, yeah, I suppose. I don't know. It doesn't quite work, a cruise on your own,” the Doctor said without thinking.

“You're not with anyone?” the blonde waitress asked.

“No, no, just me,” the Doctor quickly answered. “Just, er, used to be but, er…no.”

The Doctor made some other friends – a couple named Morvin and Foon, a tour guide named Mr. Copper (whose Earth facts were a little off), and a short red fellow with prickles all over him, like a crimson cactus, named Bannakaffalatta, one of the Zocci race – and together, they all beamed down to the middle of London. The Doctor was worried that Bannakaffalatta would cause a scene, but amazingly, the streets were deserted, apart from one old man in a newsstand.

Curious, the Doctor strode over to him, and Astrid followed. “Hello, there. Sorry, obvious question, but where's everybody gone?” the Doctor asked the old man.

“Oh ho, scared!” the man remarked. He was wearing a red toque with a jolly sprig of mistletoe stuck in it.

“Right! Yes!” said the Doctor, nodding. “Scared of what?”

“Where've you been living?” the man chuckled. “London at Christmas? Not safe, is it.”

“Why?”

“Well, it's them, up above,” the man exclaimed, pointing to the sky. “Look, Christmas before last we had that big bloody spaceship, everyone standing on a roof. And then last year, that Christmas Star electrocuting all over the place, draining the Thames.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” the Doctor muttered under his breath.

“This place is amazing!” Astrid said, aghast, as she stared about the deserted street.

“My granddaughter was gettin’ married this time last year,” the man went on. “But all of a sudden she just disappeared! Into thin air! She shows up two hours later with no explanation-”

“Wait,” said the Doctor, his eyes widening in shock. “Your granddaughter was getting married on Christmas Day? Does she have red hair, a sharp tongue?”

“That’s my little Donna,” chuckled the man.

“I know her!” said the Doctor excitedly.

“You do? How about that?” the vendor chuckled. “Small planet.”

“Yes, it is,” said the Doctor, a huge grin plastered to his face, as he remembered the runaway bride fondly. “It absolutely is.”

“It’s even better when there’s people about,” sighed the man. “But, everybody's scarpered. Gone to the country. All except me and Her Majesty.” He turned to his TV.

Nicholas Witchell spoke from the small screen. “Her Majesty the Queen has confirmed that she'll be staying in Buckingham Palace throughout the festive season to show the people of London, and the world, that there's nothing to fear.”

“God bless her,” said the vendor, saluting. “We stand vigil.”

“Well, between you and me, I think her Majesty's got it right. Far as I know, this year, nothing to worry about,” the Doctor said. At least I hope.

The vendor looked at him. “What’s your name again? I’ll tell Donna you said hello.”

“Oh, my name? I’m-”

But the Doctor was cut off as he suddenly, along with Astrid and the rest of the landing party, was beamed back onto the ship.

The Doctor looked around in confusion. “I was in mid-sentence!” he complained.

“Yes, I'm sorry about that,” Mr. Copper apologized, coming out from behind his podium. “A bit of a problem. If I could have your bracelets-”

“Apologies, ladies and gentlemen, and Bannakaffalatta,” said a steward, approaching the group, and Astrid quickly ducked behind the Doctor. “We seem to have suffered a slight power fluctuation. If you'd like to return to the festivities. And on behalf of Max Capricorn Cruiseliners, free drinks will be provided.” With a tight, yet reassuring smile, the steward nodded at them. “Thank you.”

Once the steward wasn’t looking, Astrid popped back out and said excitedly to the Doctor, “That was the best. The best!”

The Doctor smiled, a tiny, wistful ache in his chest. It’d been so long since he’d gotten to show someone around the universe.

Peace only lasted so long for the Doctor. As it turned out, the Captain was crashing the space-liner into the Earth on purpose, with everyone on board. And unfortunately, the TARDIS had drifted out into space, toward Earth – no escaping that way. The Doctor was going to need his wits and a bit of luck to get him out of this wicket.

“I'm the Doctor,” he told the small gaggle of passengers who he’d picked up. “I'm a Time Lord. I'm from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous. I'm nine hundred and three years old and I'm the man who's going to save your lives and all six billion people on the planet below. You got a problem with that?”

“No.”

“In that case…allons-y!”

As the Doctor rushed off to save the day, Astrid grabbed him by the coattails. “Hold on! There's an old tradition on Planet Sto,” she explained.

“I have really got to go-”

“Just wait a minute.”

Astrid grabbed a box to stand up on, climbed onto it, grabbed the Doctor's lapels, and firmly planted a kiss on his lips.

When they parted, the Doctor properly gobsmacked – he hadn’t kissed since…well… - the Time Lord said, “Yeah, that's a,” the Doctor cleared his throat. “Very old tradition, yeah.” He began to dash off again.

“See you later!” Astrid called after him.

“Oh, yes!” the Doctor promised.

Just when all hope seemed lost, when the Titanic would crash into the Earth and destroyed the entire planet, when the corrupt owner of the cruise ship would escape without justice, when the Doctor would die at the hands of his henchbots…

“Mister Capricorn!”

The Doctor’s head whipped around to the see the brave little waitress sitting inside a forklift, a determined light in her eye (one that seemed all too familiar to the old Time Lord).

“I resign.”

With a hard pull of a lever, the forklift lurched forward. Astrid plowed into Max Capricorn’s wheelbox, and took both of them over the edge, into the flaming engines below.

“ASTRID!” the Doctor screamed, helpless to watch her plummet to her fiery end.

With luck, the midshipman (whose name just happened to be Alonso – “Allons-y, Alonso!”) and the Doctor were able to keep the ship from crashing into the planet. He even saved Buckingham Palace.

As the Doctor sat next to Alonso, he congratulated himself on being able to save the Earth, even if he couldn’t save…

The Doctor gasped, jumping up. “Teleport! She was wearing a teleport bracelet!”

But there was a fault in the main transport device – too much damage to the ship. The Doctor couldn’t corporealize Astrid completely.

“She's just atoms, Doctor,” said Mr. Copper. “An echo with the ghost of consciousness. She's stardust.”

The Doctor stared at Astrid’s ghostly form in defeat, knowing he was beaten. He walked across the room toward her slowly. “Astrid Peth, citizen of Sto. The woman who looked at the stars and dreamt of travelling. There's an old tradition…”

He cupped the air where her cheek appeared to be and deftly kissed her ghostly lips.

“Now you can travel forever.”

The Doctor pointed his sonic screwdriver at the circular window, which opened out to space. Astrid’s shape dissolved into a flurry of specks of light, which floated out the open window into the great, black abyss.

“You're not falling, Astrid…you're flying.”

It wasn’t a tragic ending for all. Old Mr. Copper had inadvertently made himself rich by putting a million pounds on his passenger credit card. He decided to make himself a home on Earth. “A proper house, with a garden, and a door, and…oh, Doctor, I will make you proud!” said the old man, overwhelmed with joy as he hugged him tightly. “And I can have a kitchen with chairs, and windows, and plates, and…” He trailed off, wandering away, dancing a merry jig in the newly falling snow.

“Er, where are you going?” the Doctor asked.

“Well, I've no idea,” chuckled the little old man.

The Doctor sighed as he unlocked his faithful old TARDIS, which had found him here on Earth. “No. Me neither,” he remarked.

“But Doctor!” the old man called across the lawn. “I won't forget her,” Mr. Copper promised.

The Doctor nodded solemnly. He looked up into the night sky and thought he could see a streak of blue light shoot across the sky.

The Doctor looked back at the dancing man, and for the first time in over a year…the Doctor’s heart felt like it was no longer sinking. “Merry Christmas, Mister Copper,” he said as he went inside his ship.

Once his old box was in space, calmly floating near some faraway galaxy, the Doctor took a deep breath. He slowly walked toward the front door, picking up the black hoodie on the way.

The Doctor threw open the doors and looked out into the starry landscape. So many sweeping colors, so many tiny little points of light. It was amazing.

The Doctor inhaled again and looked at the soft fabric in his hand. Then he flung his arm out and tossed the hoodie into space.

The force of the Doctor’s throw carried it a few feet away, and then it floated there, alight in midspace.

“Goodbye, Sam,” said the Doctor softly. “I’ll always love you.”

Then he closed the doors and dematerialized into nothingness.

Chapter 78: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 18

Notes:

Chapter based on "Partners In Crime" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: April 5, 2008; "The Fires Of Pompeii" by James Moran, original air date: April 12, 2008; "The Doctor's Daughter" by Stephen Greenhorn, original air date: May 10, 2008; "Midnight" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 14, 2008; and "Turn Left" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 21, 2008.

Chapter Text

Donna was an absolute blessing.

"You look older," she commented as they hid in a supply closet at the Adipose Corporation.

"Thanks," the Doctor replied. "Say, I met your grandfather last Christmas. Lovely fellow."

"Are you on your own?"

The Doctor's mouth twitched. "Yeah."

Donna seemed to hesitate for a moment.

"Sam is dead," the Doctor answered her unasked question. Well, technically, he never existed, he was just a fake alias made up by my arch nemesis and oldest friend who got himself elected as your Prime Minister and took over the entire Earth, but luckily I reversed time so that never happened, so you wouldn't remember it anyway. Plus the Master had you specially hypnotized so you wouldn't make the connection between 'Sam Tyler' and 'Harold Saxon'. Life's a funny thing.

"Oh." Donna's voice was soft. "Oh, Doctor, I'm…so sorry."

"Thanks." After a moment, the Doctor said, "I thought you were going to travel the world?

"Easier said than done," the redhead scoffed. "It's like I had that one day with you, and I was going to change. I was going to do so much. Then I woke up the next morning, same old life. It's like you were never there. And I tried. I did try. I went to Egypt. I was going to go barefoot and everything. And then it's all bus trips and guidebooks and don't drink the water, and two weeks later you're back home. It's nothing like being with you. I must have been mad turning down that offer."

"What offer?"

"To come with you."

"Come with me?" the Doctor repeated.

"Oh yes, please," Donna sighed.

After the Adipose Corporation was dismantled, Donna more or less invited herself into the TARDIS, hatboxes at the ready. But the Doctor was…hesitant. "You don't want me," Donna accused.

"I'm not saying that," the Doctor said quickly.

"But you asked me. Would you rather be on your own?"

"No. Actually, no. But the last time, with…it got complicated, okay? And that was all my fault." The Doctor sighed. "I just want a mate."

Donna's eyes widened in horror. "You just want to mate?"

"I just want a mate!" the Doctor repeated.

Donna gasped, nearly dropping her hatboxes. "You're not mating with me, sunshine!"

"A mate, I want a mate!" the Doctor emphasized.

Donna exhaled with relief. "Well, just as well, because I'm not having any of that nonsense! I mean, you're just a long streak of nothing," she said, gesturing to the Doctor's long, lean form. "You know, alien nothing."

The Doctor nodded. "There we are, then. Okay."

"I can come?" Donna said eagerly.

"Yeah. Course you can, yeah." The Doctor slowly grinned. "I'd love it."

Donna grinned too. "Oh, that's just-"

The two almost hugged, but suddenly, Donna pulled back. "Car keys."

"What?"

"I've still got my mum's car keys. I won't be a minute!" Donna dropped her bags and dashed away. The Doctor looked at all Donna's luggage, sighed fondly, and began loaded her things inside the TARDIS.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, Donna came back in. "Everything all sorted out?" the Doctor asked.

"Well, didn't want to wait out in the snow for my mum forever, so I left the keys with some blonde chick. It'll be fine."

The Doctor grinned. "So, whole wide universe, where do you want to go?"

"Oh, I know exactly the place."

"Which is?"

Donna pointed. "Two and a half miles that way."

Five minutes later, they were flying over a hill near Donna's family's house in Chiswick, where the little old newspaper vendor the Doctor had met at Christmas was sitting in a lawn chair, staring up at the night sky with binoculars. The Doctor and Donna leaned out and waved at him. The old man jolted and jumped, dancing merrily.

Donna grinned at the Doctor. "That just made his year."

"Yeah," said the Doctor, smiling. "Mine too."

Their first trip was to Ancient Pompeii…on Vesuvius Day. Oops.

It turned out that an alien race called the Pyroviles had invaded after their home world, Pyrovilia, was lost somehow. They were going to destroy the world. They were drawing power from a machine drawing energy from the active volcano. The Doctor could shut off the machine, but the consequence would be that Vesuvius would erupt, as history had remembered it.

"But if it's aliens setting off the volcano, doesn't that make it all right for you to stop it?" Donna asked.

"Still part of history," the Doctor answered curtly.

"But I'm history to you. You saved me in 2008. You saved us all. Why is that different?"

"Some things are fixed, some things are in flux. Pompeii is fixed."

"How do you know which is which?"

"Because that's how I see the universe," the Doctor declared. "Every waking second, I can see what is, what was, what could be, what must not. That's the burden of a Time Lord, Donna. And I'm the only one left." The Doctor closed his eyes, remembering the vindictive laughter of the Master as he let himself die just to spite him. Just to let him suffer horrible loneliness.

Donna's voice trembled. "How many people died?"

"Stop it."

"Doctor, how many people died?"

"Twenty thousand," the Doctor answered harshly.

"Is that what you can see, Doctor?" Donna questioned. "All twenty thousand? And you think that's all right, do you?"

In the end, the Doctor and Donna decided that the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few (or the one), and set off Vesuvius together. But then, they ran into Lucius Caecilius's family, who were quaking in fear as their home was threatened to be destroyed. Caecilius looked up at the Time Lord. "Gods save us, Doctor," the Roman said, hugging his family to him.

But the Doctor couldn't tamper with history. So he made himself turn away.

"No!" Donna shouted as he went inside the TARDIS. She chased after him. "Doctor, you can't! Doctor!"

As the Doctor geared up to leave the crumbling city, Donna pleaded with him. "You can't just leave them!"

"Don't you think I've done enough? History's back in place and everyone dies," the Doctor said bitterly.

"You've got to go back. Doctor, I am telling you, take this thing back!"

The Doctor closed his eyes.

Donna began to cry. "It's not fair," she said.

"No, it's not," the Doctor quietly agreed.

"But your own planet," wept Donna. "It burned."

"That's just it," the Doctor said. "Don't you see, Donna? Can't you understand? If I could go back and save them, then I would. But I can't. I can never go back. I can't! I just can't…I can't."

Donna was quiet for a moment. Then she said. "Just someone. Please. Not the whole town. Just save someone."

The Doctor's eyebrows knit together as he was tempted.

"What would Sam want you to do?" Donna whispered.

The Doctor looked at her.

Then he turned the TARDIS around.

Caecilius and his family gazed in awe as the TARDIS reappeared in their falling home and the Doctor stepped out, offering his hand to them. "Come with me," he said.

After all was said and done, after Caecilius and his family were saved and Pompeii was buried, Donna said to the Doctor, "Thank you."

"Yeah," said the Doctor softly. "You were right. Sometimes I need someone." He smiled at Donna. "Welcome aboard."

(The Doctor had gotten a very strange feeling from Caecilius and one of the soothsayers, a redheaded girl…almost like he knew their faces (or would know them)…oh well.)

After an adventure on the Ood Sphere and stopping a Sontaran invasion on Earth, Martha Jones accidentally got brought back onto the TARDIS temporarily. The ship stranded the Doctor, Donna, and Martha on an alien planet called Messaline, where a war between the native Hath and the human colonists was taking place. Soldiers were made in a machine much like Gallifreyan genetic looms, and that was how the Doctor's daughter came to be.

"Jenny", as Donna had dubbed her, bore a striking resemblance to the Doctor's fifth incarnation, with her blonde hair and slender figure. But something about her, to the Doctor, felt…wrong. For one thing, she was just an organism made from harvested DNA. Second, she was a soldier. And third…she reminded him too much of his lost race. With her warlike spirit, Jenny especially reminded him of the Master.

As the Doctor made plans to escape and rescue Martha from the Hath, he noticed Jenny gazing at him. "What, what are you, what are you, what are you staring at?" he inquired.

"You keep insisting you're not a soldier, but look at you, drawing up strategies like a proper general," said Jenny.

"No, no. I'm trying to stop the fighting," the Doctor argued.

"Isn't every soldier?" Jenny pointed out.

"Well, I suppose, but that's, that's..." The Doctor was at a loss for words. "Technically, I haven't got time for this. Donna, give me your phone. Time for an upgrade."

"And now you've got a weapon," Jenny said as Donna handed over her mobile.

"It's not a weapon," the Doctor insisted.

"But you're using it to fight back." Jenny grinned. "I'm going to learn so much from you. You are such a soldier."

The Doctor was uncomfortably reminded of all the times the Master tried to convince him of the same. You think you're on the side of the angels, my dear. But the truth is, we're both demons.

"She belongs with us," Donna tried to convince him. "With you. She's your daughter."

"She's a soldier," the Doctor said with gritted teeth. "She came out of that machine."

Donna borrowed the Doctor's stethoscope and put it to Jenny's chest. "Come here. Listen, and then tell me where she belongs."

The Doctor listened to the gentle thumping. One two three four. One two three four. "Two hearts," the Doctor said.

"Exactly," said Donna.

"What's going on?" Jenny asked.

"Does that mean she's a…what do you call a female Time Lord?" Donna asked.

"What's a Time Lord?" Jenna added.

"It's who I am," the Doctor answered. "It's where I'm from."

"And I'm from you."

"You're an echo, that's all," the Doctor told her harshly. "A Time Lord is so much more. A sum of knowledge, a code, a shared history, a shared suffering. Only it's gone now, all of it. Gone forever." I'm the last of the Time Lords. The truly last one now.

"What happened?" Jenny asked.

"There was a war."

"Like this one?"

"Bigger. Much bigger."

"And you fought, and killed?"

"Yes," the Doctor admitted.

Jenny looked deep into his eyes. "Then how are we different?"

The Doctor slowly fell in love with his daughter – how could he not? He felt his hearts being lifted from their lonely depression by her presence. But as soon as he come to accept her, she jumped in front of a bullet to save him and died in his arms. Just like the Master had done.

"Two hearts," the Doctor insisted, fighting back tears. "Two hearts. She's like me. If we wait. If we just wait…"

"There's no sign, Doctor," Martha told him hopelessly. "There is no regeneration. She's like you, but maybe not enough."

"No," said the Doctor mournfully. "Too much. That's the truth of it. She was too much like me."

The Doctor could have killed General Cobb, the man who'd fired the gun that had killed his daughter. He very nearly did. He pointed the gun straight at the man's brain for a whole minute. Then, he put his arm down.

"I never would. Have you got that? I never would," the Doctor declared to the feuding armies. "When you start this new world, this world of Human and Hath, remember that. Make the foundation of this society a man who never would."

Later, after he and Donna had taken Martha home, the Doctor mused to himself that Sam would have loved Jenny if he had gotten to know her. The Doctor wondered if the Master would have loved Jenny too.

A big happy Time Lord family, Doctor? The Doctor could hear the Master mocking him in his head. Is that what you envision? You and me, playing house, with your genetic anomaly spawn and whatever human pet you drag home?

"You're right," the Doctor muttered to the voice. "It's a stupid idea."

The Midnight planet scared the living daylights out of the Doctor, more than any other adventure had in his memory.

It had started out fairly innocent. Donna had stayed behind for a spa day while the Doctor went on the tour shuttle to see the sapphire waterfall. He'd sat next to this lonely looking blonde woman, who introduced herself as Sky Sylvestry, and they had started to chat. Sky inquired whether the Doctor was by himself. "No, no, I'm with this friend of mine, Donna," the Doctor replied. "She stayed behind in the Leisure Palace. You?"

"No, it's just me," said Sky with a wistful smile.

"Oh, I've done plenty of that. Traveling on my own. I love it. Do what you want, go anywhere."

"No, I'm still getting used to it. I've found myself single rather recently. Not by choice."

"What happened?"

"Oh, the usual. She needed her own space, as they say. A different galaxy, in fact. I reckon that's enough space, don't you?"

The Doctor smiled apologetically. "Yeah." Mine wanted so much space from me that he killed himself, he added mentally.

The invisible monster attacked their transport, possessing first Sky, and then the Doctor. The Doctor felt like frozen stone, and he was terrified as he was used as the monster's puppet. The others on the shuttle wanted to throw him out into the toxic sunlight, but luckily the brave hostess figured how to kill the monster for real, and sacrificed herself to expel Sky into the harsh radiation. They had never even learned her name.

The Doctor was mostly silent all the way back. The others were too, out of fear and shame for nearly murdering the Doctor. All the Doctor wanted was Sam. To hold him, to take his hand, to tell him it was alright. That they were safe now.

The Doctor hugged Donna extra tightly when he got back to her.

Donna ended up going on an adventure of her own, as a fortune teller with the power to create parallel universes, created one in which she never taken the job at HC Clements, and therefore, had never met the Doctor…

As the rest of the city was in chaos over the giant star shaped web looming in the sky, Donna crept around to the back of some military vans. For some reason…she felt as though she had something to do with this…

A soldier in a red beret was speaking on a walkie talkie. "From the evidence, I'd say he managed to stop the creature. Some sort of red spider. Blew up the base underneath the barrier, flooded the whole thing. Over."

And where is he now? Over, answered the person on the other end.

"We found a body, sir. Over," said the soldier. At the moment, two MPs walked by with a body laid out on a stretcher, covered in a red blanket.

Is it him? Over.

"I think so," said the soldier. "He just didn't make it out in time."

The stretcher was lifted into an ambulance, and an arm fell out from under the blanket, dropping something on the ground – a strange looking pen device. No one seemed to notice.

"The Doctor is dead," reported the soldier. "Must have happened too fast for him to regenerate. Escort the ambulance back to UNIT base-"

"No, wait, please!" A young man with light brown hair, wearing jeans and a black hoodie, came bounding over. He clutched the side of the stretcher desperately. "You can't take him! There's still a chance he could come back-!"

"Escort him away," ordered the soldier with the walkie.

"No, no!" screeched the man as guards dragged him away from the stretcher. "I need to be with him! Let me go!"

The soldiers packed up, and Donna quickly moved away from the vans as the soldiers prepared to drive off in them.

The young man in the black hoodie hurried past her, covering his face. "Hey," said Donna softly, grabbing his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

The man looked at her. His hazel eyes were pink and puffy, and his cheeks were streaked with tears, and Donna could have sworn she knew him…

The man sniffled. "No…nothing's alright. Because my best friend is dead." The man turned away and hurried down the street.

Donna breathed out and began to walk away too. But suddenly, a blonde woman in a pink shirt under a dark purple jacket came running past her, toward the disappearing vans. "Wait, wait!...oh…" She sighed disappointedly. She looked at Donna. "What happened? What did they find? I'm sorry, did they find someone?" she asked frantically.

"I don't know, a bloke called the Doctor, or something," Donna shrugged.

"Well, where is he?"

"They took him away. He's dead."

The girl's eyes widened in shock.

"I'm sorry, did you know him?" Donna asked. "I mean, they didn't say his name. Could be any doctor."

"We came so far…" The girl sounded despondent.

"It, it could be anyone," Donna said, trying to cheer her up.

The woman looked at her. "What's your name?"

"Donna. And you?"

"I'm Rose. Not that it's important," said the blonde girl. "I shouldn't even be here…" Rose looked back at the disappearing vans. "This is wrong, it's wrong…" Rose looked back at Donna. Her eyes wandered over her shoulders distractedly. "This is so wrong…sorry, what was it? Donna what?"

"Why do you keep looking at my back?" Donna interrogated.

Rose quickly averted her eyes. "I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You keep looking behind me. You're doing it now!" Donna turned around, trying to catch a glimpse of her back. "What is it? What's there? Did someone put something on my back?"

But when Donna looked up, Rose had disappeared.

More horrors like the Christmas spider happened. The Royal Hope Hospital completely vanished for a minute, then reappeared with nearly everyone inside dead. Although Donna was a little too preoccupied from getting fired from her job to really care. That night, as Donna walked to get some chips, there was a flash and a bang in the alley, and the blonde woman from before came stumbling out into the street. Donna stared at her, astonished. "Blimey! Are you all right? What was that, fireworks or-"

"I don't know," said Rose, trying to appear casual. "I was just walking along. That's weird."

"You're the one," said Donna. "Christmas Eve. I met you in town."

"Donna? Isn't it?" Rose said. "How're you doing? You're looking good. How's things, what have you been up to?" Her dark, honey colored eyes were, again, studying Donna's back.

"You're doing it again," Donna pointed out flatly.

"What?" said Rose innocently.

"Looking behind me. People keep on doing that, looking at my back."

Another flash and a bang, and a man and a woman came out of the alley. "Rose?" called the woman. She had chestnut colored hair. "Is this it? Did we make it – oh!" The woman caught sight of Donna. "Um…wow! That was weird, what happened just now, wasn't it, Mickey darling?"

"It's alright, guys, we've met before," said Rose, gesturing to Donna. "Mickey, Annie, this is Donna."

"Oh! This is the…" The man, Mickey, trailed off as he and Annie stared at Donna's back.

"What the HELL is so fascinating about my bloody back?!" Donna yelled.

"What are you doing for Christmas?" Rose quickly changed the subject.

"What am I what?" Donna hissed.

"Next Christmas. Any plans?"

"I don't know," said Donna impatiently. "That's ages away. Nothing much, I suppose. Why?"

"Just, I think you should get out, you and your family. Don't stay in London. Just leave the city," said Rose cryptically.

"What for?" Donna asked suspiciously.

"Nice hotel…Christmas break?"

Donna thought sourly of the job she'd lost that day. "Can't afford it."

"Well, no, you got that raffle ticket," Rose pointed out.

Donna squinted at her. She'd indeed won a raffle ticket for a free vacation at a hotel at work, before she'd gotten sacked. "How do you know about that?" Donna inquired.

"First prize, luxury weekend break. Use it, Donna Noble." Rose's voice sounded tense.

Donna walked past her, Mickey, and Annie. "I think you should leave me alone. You and your whole freaky gang."

Donna ended up taking Rose's advice, and she, her mother, and her grandfather Wilf went on vacation for Christmas. Then, they saw on the news that a cruise liner from space had crashed into London – the whole city was wiped out. They were homeless.

England was a radiation minefield thanks to the explosion, so Donna and her family were shunted off to Leeds, to live in a hovel with a large Italian family. All of the Americans were dissolved into little creature made of fat. And then suddenly the cars were all exploding with poisonous gases. The world was falling to absolute hell.

And Donna seemed to be connected to it all, somehow. There was something on her back.

Donna spied another familiar flash of light at the end of the street. She followed it.

Not Rose or any of her friends this time. A man with shortly clipped, light brown hair, and hazel eyes, wearing a long dark coat. "And who are you, then," sighed Donna.

"Harold Saxon," said the man with a warm, tentative smile. "But you can call me Harry. You must be Donna."

"Harold Saxon…weren't you going to run for Prime Minister or something?"

Harry chuckled. "Maybe the Harold Saxon from this universe was. But not me. I hate politics, personally."

"Then you can't be all bad, I suppose." Donna stared at him. "What's going on? The entire world is falling apart. And weird people keep appearing and disappearing out of thin air to deliver weird messages. What does it all mean? And what does it have to do with me? And…why does everyone keep telling me there's something on my back?"

"It has everything to do with you, Donna," replied Harry.

Suddenly, there was a gigantic red explosion in the sky. "Was that you?" Donna gasped.

"No. That was the Torchwood team. Gwen Cooper, Ianto Jones, they gave their lives. And Captain Jack Harkness's transported to the Sontaran home world." Harry stared at the sky sadly. "There's no one left." Harry looked back at Donna. "None of this was meant to happen. There was a man, and he stopped it. The Titanic, the Adipose, the ATMOS, he stopped them all from happening."

Donna thought back to the night this all started. The Christmas star, the dead body… "That Doctor? Wait, you were there. You cried."

"No," said Harry. "Just a man who looked an awful lot like me. It's too confusing to explain, just forget about it. But you knew him. His name was Sam Tyler. And you knew the Doctor too."

"Did I?" Donna asked. "When?"

"You probably dream about him sometimes," Harry said. "Alternate universes, other lives. The Doctor's a man in a suit. Tall, thin man. Great hair." Harry grinned. "Some really great hair."

"Who are you?" Donna said.

"I'm from another dimension."

Donna laughed. "Course you are."

"I really am."

"I believe you. It's not the weirdest thing I've heard of. I watched the Titanic fall from space and destroy London. I'll believe anything...you say I knew this Doctor…but I never met him," Donna insisted. "And he's dead."

"He died underneath the Thames on Christmas Eve, but you were meant to be there. He needed someone to stop him, and that was you. You made him leave. You saved his life."

Donna had a flash. A burning and flooding room, a great red monster, and a man standing above it all, with fury and hate in his eyes. "Doctor, you can stop now!" Donna shouted in the memory.

"Stop it," said Donna, shaking her head. "I don't know what you're talking about. Leave me alone!" She turned and began to walk away.

"Something's coming, Donna," said Harry urgently, following after her. "Something worse."

"The whole world is stinking. How can anything be worse than this?"

"Trust me," said Harry gravely. "We need the Doctor more than ever. Me and my friends, we've been pulled across from a different universe because every single universe is in danger. It's coming, Donna. It's coming from across the stars and nothing can stop it."

"What is?" Donna asked.

Harry stared at her. "The darkness," he said.

"Well, what do you keep telling me for?!" Donna yelped. "What am I supposed to do? I'm nothing special! I mean, I'm, I'm not. I'm nothing special. I'm a temp! I'm not even that. I'm nothing."

"Donna Noble, you're the most important woman in the whole of creation," Harry told her earnestly.

"Oh, don't. Just don't," sobbed Donna. "I'm tired…I'm so tired."

"I need you to come with me," said Harry.

"Yeah. Well, those hazel eyes might work on some women, but you ain't shifting me, laddie."

Harry smiled. "Hate to break it to you, Gingie, but you're not exactly my type."

"Oh. Well that figures."

"But I like your spitfire, Donna Noble."

"I've got plenty more," Donna promised.

"Then you'll come with me, only when you want to."

"You'll have a long wait, then."

"Not really," said Harry. "Just three weeks. Tell me, does your grandfather still own that telescope?"

Donna froze, a little spooked by the fact that Harry knew that. "He never lets go of it."

"Three weeks time. But you've got to be certain. Because when you come with me, Donna…" Harry sighed. "I'm so sorry…but you're going to die."

And then he vanished.

In the next weeks, the Italian family that Donna's family had taken up with was carted away to some labor camps. "Labor camps," sobbed Wilf. "That's what they called them last time."

Donna realized the implications of his statement and a feeling of horror came upon her.

And then, the stars went out.

Donna turned around, knowing someone would be there. "I'm ready," she said.

Harry was there, waiting.

He brought her to a military base where there was scientific equipment and mirrors and things all set up. Rose greeted her at the door. "Hi, Donna," she said with a sad smile.

"Hello," Donna replied.

Mickey and Annie were there too, and another bloke named Jake. "These are the Preachers," said Harry. "I'm the leader and Rose is our top agent in the field. It's why she came to your universe. She told me about a redheaded woman she'd met, and we quickly figured out that you were significant. So I figured I should come and meet you myself."

"And you're all from another dimension?" Donna said.

"Actually," said Annie, stepping forward. "I'm from your world, technically. But I decided to stay in the other dimension. I knew the Doctor too."

"Really? What was he like?" said Donna.

Annie thought for a second. "Chatty. Very chatty."

"Is it awake?" Harry asked the group.

Jake cleared his throat. "Seems to be quiet today. Ticking over. Like it's waiting."

"Is what awake?" Donna asked.

Harry smiled and pointed. Donna followed his finger and saw a large phone booth, painted blue, with the words "POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX" on the front.

"Do you want to see it?" Harry asked.

"What's a police box?" Donna inquired.

"We salvaged it from underneath the Thames," said Harry. "Just go inside."

Donna raised an eyebrow. "What for?"

"Just go in," said Annie with a grin.

Donna cautiously stepped inside the police box. "No way!" her voice echoed.

The box was cavernous, way too large inside for its outer dimensions. It was like this little box held an entire world inside it.

Harry came up beside her. "What do you think?" he asked.

"Can I have a coffee?" squeaked Donna.

Harry chuckled and glided past her, circling the console in the center. "Time And Relative Dimension In Space. TARDIS for short. That's what this ship is called. Never got to travel in it myself, but…" Harry sighed wistfully. "Maybe someday."

"And, and it belonged to the Doctor?" Donna asked.

"He was a Time Lord," said Harry. "Last of his kind. Well, technically. But we don't need to go into all that."

"But if he was so special, what was he doing with me?" Donna asked.

"Apparently, he thought you were brilliant," said Harry.

"Don't be stupid," scoffed Donna.

"But you are," said Harry. "I can tell. The guy who traveled with him, the one who looked like me – he didn't think he was special either. But oh, the Doctor adored him. And he broke the Doctor's hearts." Harry looked at Donna's shoulder and brushed it. Donna shuddered. "Do you want to see it?" he asked.

"No," Donna answered quickly. Then she sighed in defeat. "Go on, then."

They took Donna into the middle of the ring of mirrors and lights, and activated the circle. In the mirrors, Donna could see that sitting on her back, was a huge, shiny, black beetle. "What is it?" she gasped.

"We don't know," said Harry.

"Oh, thanks," Donna hissed.

"It feeds off time, by changing time," Harry said. "By making someone's life take a different turn, like… meetings never made, children never born…a life never loved. But with you, it's-"

"But I never did anything important!" Donna protested.

"Yes, you did," Harry said. "One day that thing made you turn right instead of left."

"When was that?"

"Oh, you wouldn't remember. It was the most ordinary day in the world. But by turning right, you never met the Doctor, and the whole world just changed around you."

"Can you get rid of it?" Donna asked.

"No, we can't even touch it. It seems to be in a state of flux."

"What does that mean?"

Harry chuckled. "I don't know. Sounded smart though, didn't it?"

"You LIAR!" shrieked Donna, getting hysterical. "You told me I was SPECIAL! But it's not ME, it's this THING! I'm just a host!"

"No, there's more than that," said Harry. "That thing didn't hop on your back just for a lark. You're connected to everything, Donna Noble."

"The readings are strange," said Mickey, as he and Jake poured over the machines. "It's like reality's just bending around her."

"Because of this thing!" Donna yelled.

"No, no! We're getting separate readings from you!" Jake said.

"And they've always been there, since the day you were born," Harry said. "I thought it was just the Doctor we needed, but it's the both of you. The Doctor and Donna Noble, together, to stop the stars from going out."

Mickey and Jake shut the circle down, and Donna said, "It's still there, though. What can I do to get rid of it?"

"You're going to travel in time," said Harry.

The mirrors and lights turned out to be a rudimentary time machine the Preachers had set up. They were going to send Donna back in time, to the day she turned right instead of left. "How do you know it's going to work?" Donna asked.

"Oh, we don't," shrugged Harry. "We're just guessing."

"Oh, brilliant," sighed Donna.

"The TARDIS has tracked down the moment of intervention," Rose said, reading from a clipboard. "Monday the 25th, one minute past ten in the morning. Your car was on Little Sutton Street leading to the Ealing Road, but you turned right heading towards Griffin's Parade. You need to turn left. That's the most important thing. You've got to go back, turn left. Have you got that, Donna? One minute past ten, make yourself turn left, heading for the Chiswick Highroad."

"Just remember, when you get to the junction, change the car's direction by one minute past ten," Harry summarized.

"How do I do that?" Donna asked.

"It's up to you," said Harry.

"Well, I just have to run up to myself and have a good argument," Donna said.

"I'd like to see that!" Harry exclaimed with a grin.

"Activate lodestone," said Mickey, as he, Annie, and Jake worked the device.

"Good luck," said Rose, grasping Donna's hand briefly.

"I'm ready," said Donna with a nod.

"One minute past ten," Harry reminded her.

"Because I understand now!" said Donna with a grin. "You said I was going to die, but you mean this whole world is going to blink out of existence. But that's not dying, because a better world takes its place. The Doctor's world. And I'm still alive. That's right, isn't it? I don't die. If I change things, I don't die. That's…that's right, isn't it?"

Harry looked at her somberly. "I'm sorry."

"But I can't die," said Donna. "I've got a future. With the Doctor. You told me!"

"Activate!" shouted Mickey. There was a bright flash, and the warehouse, the circle, the TARDIS, and the Preachers were gone.

Donna found herself back in London, before all the disaster. She was half a mile away from herself, where she was about to make the wrong turn.

Donna realized what she had to do. She stepped out in front of a van, letting it hit her, so that the road block would cause her other self to have to turn left, instead of right.

As Donna lay there in the street, slowly dying, Harry appeared to her. He was wearing a black hoodie to hide his face from the other onlookers. He bent down and said to her softly: "Tell him this. Two words."

Then he whispered them in her ear, and Donna's eyes shut.

Later, Donna was telling the Doctor of the alternate timeline. She didn't quite remember everything, but she knew she had been…in another place. And she'd died. And there was a man, a familiar man…but she'd forgotten his name. "Just got lucky, this thing," said the Doctor, poking at the dead beetle with a stick. "It's one of the Trickster's Brigade. Changes a life in tiny little ways. Most times, the universe just compensates around it, but with you? Great big parallel world."

"Hold on. You said parallel worlds are sealed off," said Donna.

"They are," the Doctor said. "But you had one created around you. Funny thing is, seems to be happening a lot to you."

"Just goes with the job, I suppose," said Donna, thinking wistfully of the happy life the Library had generated for her.

"Sometimes I think there's way too much coincidence around you, Donna. I met you once, then I met your grandfather, then I met you again. In the whole wide universe, I met you for a second time. It's like something's binding us together."

"Don't be so daft. I'm nothing special," Donna snorted.

"Yes, you are. You're brilliant," the Doctor cooed, elbowing her.

Apparently, he thought you were brilliant…but you are. I can tell.

"He said that," said Donna thoughtfully.

"Who did?"

"That man…I can't remember."

"Well, he never existed now," said the Doctor nonchalantly.

"No, but he said the stars…he said the stars are going out," Donna struggled.

"Yeah, but that world's gone," the Doctor pointed out.

"No, but he said it was all worlds. Every world. He said the darkness is coming, even here."

"Who was he?" the Doctor inquired.

"I don't know."

"What did he look like?"

"Um…he...he seemed familiar." His face…Donna knew she'd met him before. It was on the tip of her tongue. "Sandy brown hair. Hazel eyes."

The Doctor's breath quickened. "What was his name?"

"I don't know," Donna struggled.

"Donna, what was his name?" The Doctor's tone was urgent now.

"But he told me to warn you," said Donna. "He said two words."

"What two words? What were they? What did she say?" the Doctor exclaimed.

Donna thought for a second. "…Bad Wolf."

The Doctor's jaw dropped.

"Well, what does it mean?" Donna asked.

The Doctor sprang from his seat and raced outside the fortune teller's tent into the marketplace. He looked around wildly.

The text on every single sign, flag, and flyer around him had changed from their original message. Even the TARDIS's "Pull To Open" and "Police Public Call Box" signs had changed. They all now said the same exact two words.

Bad Wolf.

The Doctor hurriedly pushed inside the TARDIS. The time rotor was lit up red and the cloister bell was chiming up a storm.

Donna ran in beside him, huffing and puffing. "Doctor, what is it? What's Bad Wolf?" she gasped.

"It's the end of the universe!"

Chapter 79: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 19

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Stolen Earth" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: June 28, 2008.

Chapter Text

The Doctor, in a panic, took Donna and the TARDIS back to Earth, in Donna’s time. He and his companion raced out the doors to find…

A perfectly nice, peaceful day in Chiswick.

“It's fine,” the Doctor gasped in confusion. “Everything's fine. Nothing's wrong, all fine.” He called out to a milkman unloading bottles from his truck. “Excuse me! What day is it?”

“Saturday,” the milkman answered.

“Saturday,” the Doctor muttered to himself. “Good. Good, I like Saturdays.”

“So, did I talk to Sam?” Donna asked. “Because you said that he-”

“Died,” said the Doctor. “Yeah. He did.”

“Then how did I-”

“I don’t know!” the Doctor exclaimed. “It’s impossible! It should be impossible. But with that man, a lot of impossible things can happen…no matter what’s going on, if you saw Sam, then everything is in danger. Everything. But how?” The Doctor ambled back into the TARDIS, in a fog.

Donna followed him, shutting the door behind her. “I don’t understand you at all. The man you love could possibly be alive, and you say that’s bad. How could Sam being alive possibly be bad-”

“Because Sam isn’t real!” the Doctor shouted.

Donna blinked. “…what?” she said.

The Doctor sighed, plopping into his jump seat and rubbing his face. “It’s such a long story. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Try the beginning,” said Donna, unusually patient.

The Doctor sighed. “Well…it all started when I was entered into the Time Lord Academy…I was eight years old-”

“Wait. Aren’t you like, 900 or something?” Donna said.

“Actually, I’m several centuries older than that,” the Doctor admitted sheepishly. “I’ve been lying about my age.”

“You vain bastard.” Donna whistled. “This really is a long story. Well…go ahead.”

Abridging it as much as he could, the Doctor explained to her his childhood friendship with Koschei, the eventual end of that friendship, Koschei’s transition into the Master, their rivalry, the Master’s apparent death, the Time War and his revival, the Time Lords’ fobwatches, the Master’s masquerade as Sam Tyler, his resuming of his identity, his rise to Prime Minister, and his dictatorship of the Earth in the Year That Never Was.

At the end of the story, Donna was wide-eyed. “Harold Saxon? Really? And I never knew it was Sam?”

“You were hypnotized not to know. The Master is a very sneaky man.”

Donna breathed out. “God, I just can’t believe…oh, Doctor, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well…” the Doctor shrugged. “I’m alright. Always am.”

“But if the Master is coming back…”

“Then the universe is in a whole lot of trouble,” the Doctor finished.

As if on cue, the entire TARDIS shook, nearly sending Donna and the Doctor to the floor. “What the hell was that?!” Donna exclaimed.

“Don't know, it came from outside,” the Doctor said, staggering to the front doors. He threw them open to find that the TARDIS was floating in empty space.

“How did that happen?” Donna inquired, looking over the Doctor’s shoulder. “What did you do?”

The Doctor rushed to check the scanner. He studied at the screen momentarily, then furled his eyebrow, mystified. “We haven't moved,” he said. “We're fixed.” But then where’s the… The Doctor’s brown eyes widened in horror. “It can't have…no!” He ran back to the open doorway, leaning out to look out into the void. “The TARDIS is still in the same place, but the Earth has gone. The entire planet - it's gone!”

The Doctor and Donna hurried off to consult the Shadow Proclamation, and they found out that it wasn’t just Earth that was missing. So were 26 other worlds, including Adipose III, which was the nursery world of the Adipose system (that was why Ms. Foster had been generating Adipose babies from the overweight of Britain); Pyrovilia (which explained the Pyroviles’ presence in ancient Pompeii), and the lost moon of Poosh (which one of the passengers from the tour shuttle the Doctor had ridden on the planet Midnight had been writing a paper about). Donna told the Doctor that the bees of Earth had been disappearing too, and with this information, the Doctor was able to trace the missing planets to the Medusa Cascade.

But when they got there, there was nothing. No bees, no planets, no anything.

The Doctor was stumped.

But luckily, as he was thinking, Martha Jones’s mobile suddenly rang. The Doctor jumped. “Phone!”

“Doctor, phone!” Donna shouted.

The Doctor scrambled for the phone. “Martha, is that you?!” But the phone simply continued to ring. “It's a signal,” the Doctor realized.

“Can we follow it?” Donna asked.

The Doctor put on his stethoscope. “Oh, just watch me.”

With some jiggery pokery on the Doctor’s part, the TARDIS locked onto the signal of the call, and they were pulled into a temporally de-synchronized pocket universe. That’s how the missing planets were being hidden away. The TARDIS was nearly shaken to bits as it was dragged through the fabric of reality, but it managed. The TARDIS always managed.

The scanner’s display distorted. “Ooo, ooo, ooo, what's that?” the Doctor said. “Hold on, hold on. Some sort of…subwave network.” The Doctor fiddled with the controls, and a new picture came in – a sort of a four way video chat. Himself and Donna were on one channel, and on the other three screens…were Jack Harkness, Martha Jones, and Sarah Jane Smith!

Jack laughed. Then he frowned. “Where the hell have you been?!” he shouted at the Doctor. “Doctor, it's the Daleks!”

A woman with black hair looked over Jack’s shoulder at the screen, studying the Doctor. “Oh, he's a bit nice. I thought he'd be older,” she said. She had a distinct Welsh accent and a gap between her teeth, and the Doctor could swear he’d seen her face before.

Another person, a man, popped up on Jack’s other side. “He’s not that young,” he grumbled, almost jealously. It was Ianto Jones.

“It's the Daleks, they're taking people to their spaceship!” Sarah Jane gasped, hiccupping. It looked like she’d been crying. With her was a teenage boy, looking concerned.

“It's not just Dalek Caan,” Martha added.

The Doctor grinned at all these beloved people. “Sarah Jane, who’s that boy?” he asked. “And Ianto Jones, I remember you from the Valiant. That must be Torchwood. Oh, they're brilliant. Look at you all, you clever people.”

“That's Martha,” said Donna, peering over his shoulder at the screen. She pointed at Jack. “And who's…he?”

“Captain Jack,” the Doctor answered. “Don't, just…don't.”

“It's like an outer space Facebook,” said Donna.

“Everyone except...” The Doctor fell quiet.

Suddenly, the screen turned into grey static. “Oh!” the Doctor grumbled, trying to get the signal back.

“We've lost them!” Donna moaned.

“No, no, no, no, no!” the Doctor said. “It looks like there's another signal coming through, on a closed frequency. There's someone else out there. Hello?!” The Doctor knocked on his screen. “Can you hear me?!”

It must be the Master. Or who, or whatever Donna saw. What am I dealing with? What is the game this time?

Finally, a voice came through. But it was none of the Doctor’s allies, or the Master. It was scratchy and robotic, and it made the Doctor’s blood turn to ice.

“Your voice is different, and yet its arrogance is unchanged.”

No, no, nonono… the Doctor thought. It can’t be true!

But the Doctor’s fears were confirmed. The screen cleared to show a disfigured individual with its eye sockets sunken in, a glowing blue Dalek-like one embedded in his forehead. The creature had a metal rod extending out and around the arc of its head, and it was in a wheelchair similar to the Dalek suits of armor.

“Welcome to my new Empire, Doctor, said the figure on the screen. “It is only fitting that you should bear witness to the resurrection and the triumph of Davros, lord and creator of the Dalek race.”

The Doctor stared at the screen in horrified silence. This was even worse than the Master.

“Doctor?” whispered Donna.

“Have you nothing to say?” croaked Davros.

“Doctor, it's alright,” Donna whispered to him. “We're, we're in the TARDIS. We're safe.”

“But you were destroyed,” the Doctor finally said to Davros. “In the very first year of the Time War, at the Gates of Elysium. I saw your command ship fly into the jaws of the Nightmare Child…I tried to save you.”

“But it took one stronger than you,” Davros said. “Dalek Caan himself.”

“I fleeeeew into the wild and fire,” creaked a voice that was very out of character for a Dalek. “I danced and died a thousand times.”

“Emergency Temporal Shift took him back into the Time War itself,” said Davros.

“But that's impossible!” argued the Doctor. “The entire War is time locked!”

“And yet he succeeded,” said Davros. “Oh, it cost him his mind, but imagine. A single, simple Dalek succeeded where Emperors and Time Lords have failed. A testament, don't you think, to my remarkable creations?”

“And you made a new race of Daleks,” the Doctor spat hatefully, staring at the three large black Daleks gathered Davros.

“I gave myself to them, quite literally. Each one grown from a cell of my own body.” Davros unsnapped the silver clasps of his black tunic, exposed his chest. The Doctor could see Davros’s bare ribs, and behind that his lungs and beating heart, with barely any sinew of nerve endings to cover them.

“New Daleks,” said Davros. “True Daleks. I have my children, Doctor. What do you have now?”

“After all this time, everything we saw, everything we lost,” the Doctor whispered. “I have only one thing to say to you.” The Doctor reached for a lever. “Bye!” he called jeeringly.

The TARDIS took off, moving through the space between all the planets, making a beeline for the Earth.

“Hurry, Doctor, hurry!” Donna said.

“I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying!”

The TARDIS finally touched down in front of a church in London. They scrambled outside to find the dark street (no sun to light the Earth) completely empty. “Like a ghost town,” said Donna.

“Sarah Jane said they were taking the people,” the Doctor said. “What for? Think, Donna. When you met Sam, or whoever he was, in that parallel world, what did he say?”

“Just, ‘the darkness is coming’,” Donna replied.

“Anything else?”

Donna’s eyes widened. “Why don't you ask him yourself?” she whispered, pointing behind the Doctor.

The Doctor turned around.

A man with light brown hair and hazel eyes, in a black hoodie, was standing there, a large gun strapped to his back. He grinned ear to ear. “Doctor, it’s you! I finally found you!” he exclaimed, running toward him. The man threw his arms around the Doctor, squeezing him tight. Then he looked over at Donna, smiling. “Hello again, Donna.”

The Doctor seemed frozen. “You’re…human,” he said.

“Yeah,” chuckled the man. “Same as ever.”

The Doctor cautiously raised an eyebrow. “Harry?” he said incredulously.

“Yeah! It’s me!” said Harry Saxon, Sam Tyler’s double from the parallel world, laughing joyously. Then he faltered. “Were you…hoping for someone else?”

The Doctor swallowed. “…no,” he answered slowly. Then he smiled a bit. “As a matter of fact…you’re probably the best case scenario.”

Harry grinned cockily. “Well, I’ll take what I can get.” He and the Doctor hugged again. Then, suddenly-

“EX-TER-MIN-ATE!”

The Doctor was blasted with a Dalek ray, his entire body lighting up in electric blue, stiffening before slumping in Harry’s grasp. “Oh my God, Doctor!” Harry exclaimed.

“Doctor!” shouted another male voice, as Jack Harkness came running up. He destroyed the Dalek with a large gun of his own.

“It’s alright, I've got you,” Harry said soothingly, supporting the Doctor. “Easy does it, big boy. No dying today, got that?”

“Aye aye, sir,” the Doctor laughed faintly, somewhat dazed from the Dalek ray.

“Get him into the TARDIS, quick,” said Jack, gesturing to the police box. “Move.”

Harry helped the Doctor amble inside, Donna and Jack hurrying along with them. They laid the Doctor out on the hard, grated floor. The Doctor’s limbs twitched sporadically. “What, what do we do?” Donna panicked. “There must be some medicine or something.”

“Just step back,” advised Jack. “Both of you. He's dying, and you know what happens next.”

“No, I don’t, what happens?” Donna said.

“Yeah, what’s going to happen?” said Harry.

The Doctor’s right hand began to glow. “It's starting,” the Doctor gasped, struggling to his feet.

“What’s happening?!” Harry exclaimed.

“Here we go,” said Jack. “Good luck, Doctor.”

“Will someone please tell me what is going on?!” Donna exclaimed.

“Doctor!” Harry shouted.

“I'm sorry, it's too late. I'm regenerating!”

The Doctor’s body erupted in harsh, golden-orange light.

Chapter 80: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 20

Notes:

Chapter based on "Journey’s End" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: July 5, 2008 (1/4).

Chapter Text

Donna, Jack, and Harry watched, grief-stricken, as the life energy of the Doctor flowed out of him. But all of a sudden, the Doctor painstakingly brought his arms together and pointed them toward the jar on the other side of the room containing the Doctor’s hand, directing the fiery blast into it. After a moment, it died off, and the Doctor stumbled backward, same as he was before.

The other three stared in amazement.

“Now then,” gasped the Doctor, steadying himself. “Where were we?”

Donna, Harry, and Jack looked at each other, then at the Doctor, who was crossing the room to the hand in the jar. The limb was still glowing with the golden energy, the water bubbling. “There now,” the Doctor said. He pursed his lips and blew on the container, and the energy dispersed, the hand in the jar growing stable once more.

The Doctor smiled at his bewildered friends. “You see? Used the regeneration energy to heal myself, but soon as I was done, I didn't need to change. I didn't want to. Why would I?” The Doctor straightened his tie in a cocky manner. “Look at me.”

Harry and Jack smiled amusedly, despite their shock. Donna rolled her eyes fondly.

“So, to stop the energy going all the way,” the Doctor continued, “I siphoned off the rest into a handy bio-matching receptacle, namely my hand. My hand there. My handy spare hand.” The Doctor got to his feet. “Remember, Jack? Christmas Day, Sycorax. Lost my hand in a sword fight, and you found it, gave it back to me when we remet on Malcassairo. Clever, eh?”

“Oh, you clever, sexy boy,” Harry grinned, stepping forward to hug the Doctor, but he was stopped when Jack stepped in front of him, his cannon pointed straight at Harry’s chest. “Um,” coughed Harry. “Normally I’d be flattered when a handsome man puts his big weapon up against me-”

“You,” growled Jack. “I saw you die, you maniac. How the hell are you alive?!”

“Moi?” said Harry innocently. “Sorry, big fellow, I think I’d remember a face like that. Especially when it’s attached to that body.” He smirked.

“Jack, it’s…” The Doctor took a deep breath. “He’s not who you think.”

“Oh yeah? Then who is he?” Jack demanded. “Because I’m about three seconds away from blasting this bastard to smithereens.”

“Jack, this man is not the Master!” the Doctor said urgently. “He’s from a parallel universe, one where there are no Time Lords. He’s a human being, conceived by human beings, born a human, raised on Earth…he’s human as you, or Donna. And he’s not evil. He’s a friend.”

Jack relaxed the tiniest bit. “What’s his name?” he asked suspiciously.

“I’m Harold Saxon,” said Harry.

Jack riled back up, pushing the barrel of the weapon into Harry’s chest.

“It’s only a coincidence, I swear!” the Doctor exclaimed. “The Master and I, when the Master was human, we met him when we accidentally ended up in the parallel world. When the Master decided to run for Prime Minister, he borrowed Harry’s name…as a way of mocking me.”

”So he’s not Sam, then?” Donna said.

Jack glared at Harry, then looked at the Doctor. “You’re sure. You’re positive?”

“Jack, you have to trust me,” said the Doctor sternly.

Finally, Jack lowered his cannon. “Alright, Doctor. I believe you. But you-” Jack pointed his finger threateningly in Harry’s face. “-are on thin ice. Got it?”

Harry nodded quickly.

Jack exhaled. “Well, now that that’s settled…” He whirled around and hugged the Doctor tightly. “Doctor, you’re okay!”

“Yes, yes I am,” laughed the Doctor, patting Jack on the back.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” said Harry, stepping forward to also hug the Time Lord.

Donna smiled as the two hugged. Then she looked at Jack. “You can hug me, if you want.”

Jack chuckled.

“No, really. You can hug me.”

The Doctor let Harry go. “Now, if I recall, there are some problems outside that need to be taken care of.” He hopped over to the controls.

“Can’t believe I finally get to travel in this thing!” Harry exclaimed. “To finally see her in action!”

Just then, the lights went out in the TARDIS. Harry frowned. “Or not.”

“They've got us. Power's gone!” the Doctor declared, trying frantically to get the ship back online. “Some kind of chronon loop!”

Suddenly the TARDIS jerked, and they were physically pulled off the Earth. “Where are we going?” Donna asked.

“I think I know where,” Harry said. “We’ve been watching your world for some time. Discrepancies in space/time. Planets disappearing.”

“Like Pyrovilia,” Donna said. “Or the Adipose breeding colony.”

“And the lost moon of Poosh,” the Doctor added. “And now Earth. The Daleks have taken 27 celestials bodies in all. And now they’re taking us somewhere—presumably their HQ.”

“That’s just what I was thinking,” nodded Harry. “There's a massive ship that the rest of the stolen planets are gravitating around.”

“It’s the Dalek ship,” said Jack. “They're calling it the Crucible.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Nice intel, Torchwood.” He smirked. “Though the Preachers could give you a run for your money. You may have the inside track, but we’ve got the benefit of distance—we can see the whole picture.”

”What is this, a contest?” Jack grumbled.

“I remember,” said Donna suddenly to Harry. “You told me that the stars were going out.”

“Yes, I did,” Harry nodded.

“How do I remember that, if that reality never happened?” Donna said.

“Dimensions collapsing. Reality’s becoming more fluid. The Daleks are ripping the fabric of existence apart. Everything’s bleeding together. That’s how I was able to get to you.” Harry looked at the Doctor. “And you.”

The Doctor looked at his shoes.

Harry cleared his throat. “Even the Void’s dead. Something is destroying everything.”

“Davros,” spat the Doctor hatefully.

“Who is Davros, Doctor?” Jack asked.

“Imagine that the Daleks are Nazis.”

“That’s not too hard.”

“Davros is the Fuhrer.”

Jack blinked. “He’s…”

“He created the first Daleks. Turned them from living beings and stuffed them into cans of metal, turning them into simple killing machines.”

Jack snorted. “Sounds like someone else we know.”

“But in that parallel world, you said something about me,” Donna said, catching Harry’s attention again. “That I’m important.”

Harry sighed. “The Preachers’ dimension cannon—that’s we get to different realities—it can measure timelines, and…it's very strange, Donna, but they all seemed to converge on you.”

“But why me?” Donna said. “I mean, what have I ever done? I'm a temp from Chiswick.”

Then, the TARDIS scanner beeped.

“The Dalek Crucible,” said the Doctor ominously. “All aboard.”

The TARDIS made a rough landing. “DOC-TOR!” they heard a Dalek voice blare from outside. “YOU WILL STEP FORTH OR DIE!”

“We'll have to go out,” said the Doctor. “Because if we don't, they'll get in.”

“I thought nothing could get through those doors,” Jack said. “You've got extrapolator shielding.”

“Last time I fought the Daleks, they were scavengers and hybrids, and mad,” said the Doctor. “But this is a fully-fledged Dalek Empire, at the height of its power. Experts at fighting TARDISes, they can do anything. Right now, that wooden door is just wood.”

“What about your dimension jump?” Jack said to Harry.

“It needs another twenty minutes. Besides, it only works for one person, and I'm not leaving you all,” said Harry, staring at the Doctor.

“What about your teleport?” the Doctor asked Jack.

“Went down with the power loss,” Jack replied.

“Right then,” said the Doctor. “All of us together, yeah…Donna?” He looked over at the redhead. “Donna?”

Donna appeared to be zoned out, but then she snapped out of it. “Yeah,” she responded.

“I'm sorry,” said the Doctor, touching her shoulders. “There's nothing else we can do.”

Donna nodded. “No, I know.”

The Doctor nodded.

Harry laughed shakily. “Daleks,” he snorted.

“Oh, God,” said Jack sarcastically. But it was clear they were both frightened.

The Doctor smiled at them. “It's been good, though, hasn't it? All of us. All of it. Everything we did.” He looked at Donna. “You were brilliant.” He looked at Jack. “And you were brilliant.” Then he turned to Harry. He smiled wistfully. “And you were brilliant.”

The other three smiled at him.

The Doctor took in a deep breath. “Blimey,” he squeaked. Then he turned and headed outside, the others faithfully following.

“DA-LEKS REIGN SU-PREME!” a Red Dalek, clearly the leader of the lot, declared as they filed out. “ALL HAIL THE DA-LEKS!”

The Doctor whispered something in Gallifreyan as he stared wide eyed at the dozens and dozens of Daleks flying over their heads.

The other, lesser, bronze Daleks took up their leader’s cry. “DA-LEKS REIGN SU-PREME! ALL HAIL THE DA-LEKS! DA-LEKS REIGN SU-PREME. ALL HAIL THE DA-LEKS!”

“BE-HOLD, DOC-TOR. BE-HOLD THE MIGHT OF THE TRUE DA-LEK RACE!” proclaimed the Red Dalek.

“Oh would you just shut up?” Harry grumbled under his breath.

The Doctor noticed one of their ranks was missing and looked over his shoulder. Donna was still standing in the doorway of the TARDIS, staring back at something. “Donna! You're no safer in there,” the Doctor warned.

Suddenly, the TARDIS doors slammed shut, trapping Donna inside. The Doctor looked bewildered. “What?” he exclaimed, rushing over.

“Doctor!” Donna called from the other side, beating on the door. “What have you done?!”

“It wasn't me, I didn't do anything!” the Doctor shouted back, trying to get the door open. But it wouldn’t budge.

“Oi, I'm not staying behind!” Donna hollered.

“What did you do?!” the Doctor called at the Red Dalek.

“THIS IS NOT OF DA-LEK OR-I-GIN,” the Red Dalek blared back.

“Doctor!” Donna shouted.

“Stop it!” the Doctor said to the Dalek. “She's my friend. Now open the door and let her out!”

“THIS IS TIME LORD TREACH-ER-Y.”

“Me? The door just closed on its own!”

“NE-VER-THE-LESS,” the Dalek said, “THE TAR-DIS IS A WEA-PON AND IT WILL BE DES-TROY-ED.”

Suddenly, a trapdoor in the floor opened under the TARDIS and the blue box dropped down into the hole.

“What are you doing?!” the Doctor shouted. “Bring it back!” He dashed up to the Dalek. “What have you done?! Where's it going?!”

“THE CRU-CI-BLE HAS A HEART OF Z NEU-TRI-NO EN-ER-GY. THE TAR-DIS WILL BE DE-POS-IT-ED IN-TO THE CORE.”

“You can't!” the Doctor yelped. “You've taken the defenses down. It'll be torn apart!”

“Donna's still in there!” Harry added.

“Let her go!” Jack demanded.

“THE FE-MALE AND THE TAR-DIS WILL PE-RISH TO-GE-THER. OB-SERVE.”

The Doctor whirled around. On a large screen, the TARDIS was shown being absorbed by the Crucible’s molten core.

“THE LAST CHILD OF GALL-I-FREY IS POW-ER-LESS,” mocked the Red Dalek.

“Please, I'm begging you,” the Doctor pled. “I'll do anything! Put me in her place. You can do anything to me, I don't care, just get her out of there!”

“YOU ARE CON-NEC-TED TO THE TAR-DIS,” said the Dalek. “NOW FEEL IT DIE.”

“TO-TAL TAR-DIS DE-STRUC-TION IN TEN RELS,” announced a Dalek underling. “NINE. EIGHT. SE-VEN. SIX. FIVE. FOUR. THREE. TWO. ONE!”

The TARDIS disappeared on the screen. The Doctor closed his eyes. A hand touched his shoulder. He didn’t know if it was Harry’s or Jack’s.

“THE TAR-DIS HAS BEEN DE-STROYED,” said the Red Dalek. “NOW TELL ME, DOC-TOR. WHAT DO YOU FEEL? AN-GER? SOR-ROW? DE-SPAIR?”

“Yeah,” mumbled the Doctor hollowly.

“THEN IF E-MO-TIONS ARE SO IM-POR-TANT, SURE-LY WE HAVE EN-HANCED YOU?” the Dalek jeered.

“Yeah? Feel this!” Jack pulled out a small revolver and shot at the Red Dalek.

“EX-TER-MIN-ATE!”

With a zap, Jack fell to the floor, dead.

“Oh my God!” Harry rushed over to Jack’s prone form. He glared at the Red Dalek. “You bastard!”

“ES-CORT THEM TO THE VAULT,” ordered the Red Dalek to a few of the others.

The Doctor touched Harry’s back. “Leave it. There's nothing we can do.”

The bronze Daleks rolled up to escort the Doctor and Harry away. “THEY ARE THE PLAY-THINGS OF DAV-ROS NOW,” declared the Red Dalek triumphantly.

“So he’s gonna be alright, then?” said Harry.

“Yeah,” said the Doctor. “He’s…he’s Jack. He always comes back.”

“The immortal omnisexual. Quite the character,” said Harry.

The two of them had been brought into a big empty chamber, which the Doctor assumed was the aforementioned “Vault”. There were some Daleks guarding them, but they were sitting far away and seemed unconcerned about their prisoners’ conversation.

“I’m sorry about the TARDIS,” said Harry. “And Donna.”

The Doctor shrugged miserably. “You let one companion die, you let ‘em all die.”

“Doctor…” Harry said cautiously. “I know about Sam. What happened to him.”

“He’s dead,” the Doctor said, for what felt like the millionth time.

Harry put his hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket. “I don’t know everything about your people. But we know he was Prime Minister for a time—he used my name. And we know he was a Time Lord.”

“Yes,” the Doctor responded.

“So Sam…he was…what. Like an alias?”

“Sort of,” said the Doctor. “Sort of a like whole new identity, actually.”

“When he was human…when he was with you…he didn’t know what he really was. Who he really was.”

“No,” the Doctor replied. “As far as he knew…he was just the boy from the shop.”

“Doctor…” Harry took a deep breath. “I think you need to forgive him.”

The Doctor whirled around to look at him. “Forgive who? The Master? I already did. He didn’t accept it, but-”

“No, Doctor,” said Harry gently. “I mean you need to forgive Sam.”

The Doctor stared at him, then at his trainers. “Sam didn’t hurt all those people, the Master did. Besides…he wasn’t real.”

“Yes, he was,” said Harry. “And it’s disrespectful of the dead to keep saying that. Sam was as real as I am. Maybe he turned into something else, but he was real. And he truly loved you—that was real too. You only say he wasn’t real so you don’t have deal with the truth.”

“What truth?” said the Doctor.

“The truth that you’re angry with him.”

“Angry?” the Doctor repeated incredulously. “Sam did nothing wrong! He was a good, kind, sweet person who helped people. He was loyal to me to a fault.”

“And that’s why you’re angry with him,” said Harry gently. “Whether you realize it or not, you feel like he abandoned you. When he turned into that other bloke, it was like he left you. And then you turn around and deny he ever existed because that’s easier than admitting that you’re hurt.”

The Doctor was stunned into silence. He stared at the other man, mouth silently agape.

“But I knew Sam,” Harry continued. “I know how much he loved you. He wanted to be with you forever. You were his whole world, and if he could’ve chosen, he would have never left you. He would never have become the Master.”

“He opened the fobwatch for a reason,” the Doctor squeaked.

“He couldn’t have known what was in there,” said Harry. “Maybe he just thought that he would be himself, but a Time Lord instead of human. He knew if he were a Time Lord, he’d live as long as you, and you wouldn’t have to be alone.”

The Doctor’s eyes welled up. “How can you know that,” he said softly.

Harry smiled gently. “Because if I were him, I’d think the exact same way. If I had a Doctor of my own, I’d do anything to stay with him.”

The Doctor trembled. “God…you’re right. I am angry. And I know it’s stupid to be angry with him, but I am.”

“And now that you know you are, you can let it go,” Harry said comfortingly. “Doctor, you’ll never be happy again until you forgive him. And forgive yourself.”

The Doctor closed his eyes and stood still for a moment.

The silence was interrupted, however, by the sound of the large metal door sliding open. “DAV-ROS EN-TER-ING!” announced a Dalek.

“ALL HAIL OUR CRE-A-TOR!” exclaimed another.

Davros rolled inside the room. “Activate the holding cells,” he ordered.

Then, spotlights—containment fields—shone down on the Doctor and Harry, respectively.

“Excellent,” croaked Davros. “Even when powerless, a Time Lord is best contained.”

“Still scared of me, then?” the Doctor said, putting up his hand to test the field. It rippled in mid-air.

“It is time we talked, Doctor. After so very long.”

“Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, we're not doing the nostalgia tour,” the Doctor said flippantly. “I want to know what's happening right here, right now. Because the Supreme Dalek said Vault. Yeah? As in dungeon. Cellar. Prison.” The Doctor grinned at Davros. “You're not in charge of the Daleks, are you? They've got you locked away down here in the basement like, what, a servant? Slave? …Court jester?”

“We have…an arrangement,” Davros said.

“No, no, no, no, no.” The Doctor laughed. “No, I've got the word. You're the Dalek's pet!”

Angered, Davros swiveled his chair toward Harry. “So very full of fire, is he not. And to think you crossed entire universes, striding parallel to parallel to find him again.”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “Cause he’s the guy who’s gonna kick your arse, mate.”

“Your fire is a good match for his,” Davros commented. “I wonder if you…burn together?”

Harry blushed. “Shut the hell up, Robocop!”

“Oh, leave him alone,” the Doctor grumbled.

“He is mine to do as I please,” Davros growled, squinted hard at Harry.

“I’ve had some ugly boys in my day,” Harry shot back. “But not even I would sleep with you.”

“You will be silent or-!”

“Or let me guess, you kill me, right?”

“To my extreme displeasure, no. You must be here. It was foretold. Even the Supreme Dalek would not dare to contradict the prophecies of Dalek Caan.

A light came up on the Dalek medium, sitting exposed in his half-armor, his tentacles wiggling and curling in the air. “So cold and dark. Fire is coming. The endless flames,” the Dalek purred, his gentle lilt so much different than the monotone, militant blaring of his brothers.

“That’s what inside those shells?” said Harry, disgusted. He looked at Davros. “That’s your idea of the master race, bruv?”

“It’s the last of the Cult of Skaro,” said the Doctor. “But it flew into the Time War, unprotected.”

“Caan did more than that,” said Davros. “He saw time. Its infinite complexity and majesty, raging through his mind. And he saw you. Both of you.”

“This I have foreseen, in the wild and the wind. The Doctor will be here as witness, at the end of everything. The Doctor and his precious Children of Time!” Caan gave a high-pitched cackle. “And one of them will die!”

“Was it you, Caan?!” the Doctor shouted at the crazed Dalek. “Did you kill Donna? Why did the TARDIS door close? TELL ME!”

“Oh, that's it,” Davros hissed amusedly. “The anger, the fire, the rage of a Time Lord who butchered millions. There he is.”

The Doctor glared.

“Why so shy?” Davros asked. “Show your companion. Show him your true self. Dalek Caan has promised me that too.”

“I have seen,” giggled Caan. “At the time of ending, the Doctor's soul will be revealed.”

“What does that mean?” the Doctor asked.

“We will discover it together,” said Davros. “Our final journey. Because the ending approaches. The testing begins.”

“Testing of what?” the Doctor inquired as Davros began to drive away.

The madman turned back, and said simply, “The Reality Bomb.”

Chapter 81: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 21

Notes:

Chapter based on "Journey's End" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: July 5, 2008 (2/4).

Chapter Text

The Doctor and Harry learned that Davros had calculated a way to dissolve matter, and that the 27 stolen planets were being aligned to be used as a transmission device. He was going to use it to break down the entirety of space and matter. Every atom into nothing. "This is my ultimate victory, Doctor! The destruction of reality itself!" Davros proclaimed proudly.

But just when all hope seemed lost…

Martha's face suddenly appeared on the large screen. "…is for the Dalek Crucible. Repeat. Can you hear me?"

"Put me through," the Doctor ordered.

"It begins. As Dalek Caan foretold," Davros said triumphantly.

"The Children of Time will gather, and one of them will die!"

"Stop saying that!" the Doctor snapped. "Put me through!"

"Doctor!" Martha exclaimed, now being able to see him. "I'm sorry, I had to."

"Oh, but the Doctor is powerless," said Davros. "My prisoner. State your intent."

"I've got the Osterhagen Key. Leave this planet and its people alone, or I'll use it," Martha threatened, holding up a square computer chip.

"Osterhagen what? What's an Osterhagen Key?" the Doctor squawked.

"There's a chain of 25 nuclear warheads placed in strategic points beneath the Earth's crust. If I use the key…they detonate, and the Earth gets ripped apart."

"What?!" the Doctor spat, utterly stupified. "Who invented that?!—well, someone called Osterhagen, I suppose—Martha, are you insane?!"

"The Osterhagen Key is to be used if the suffering of the human race is so great, so without hope…" Martha grimaced. "That this becomes the final option."

"That's never an option," the Doctor hissed.

"Don't argue with me, Doctor!" Martha exclaimed. "Because it's more than that. Now, I reckon the Daleks need these 27 planets for something. But what if it becomes 26?...What happens then? Daleks? Would you risk it?"

"She's good," muttered Harry. "Demented…but good."

The presence of Harry caught Martha's attention and she balked. "What the hell?!"

"Calm down, Trinity, I'm not-"

"I saw him die!"

"Martha, it's not the Master!" said the Doctor. "This man is from an alternate dimension, he's human. And more importantly, not evil."

"How many more times are we gonna have to go through this?" Harry mumbled to the Doctor.

"SE-COND TRANS-MIS-SION, IN-TER-NAL!"

"DIS-PLAY!"

A second holoscreen appeared beside Martha's, this one with Jack, Sarah Jane Smith, and the Preachers gathered around him. "Captain Jack Harkness, calling all Dalek boys and girls!" crowed the Captain. "Are you receiving me?" He was holding a device in his hand. "Don't send in your goons, or I'll set this thing off."

"Mickey! Rose! Annie!" Harry shouted. "I'm alright!"

"Good to see ya, sir," said Mickey with a smile.

"Hi, Doctor!" said Annie, waving.

"Yes, hello, Anna," said the Doctor impatiently. "Captain, what are you doing?"

"I've got a Warp Star wired into the mainframe," Jack said. "I break this shell, the entire Crucible goes up."

"You can't!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Where did you get a Warp Star?!"

Sarah stepped forward. "From me. We had no choice. We saw what happened to the prisoners.

"Impossible," whispered Davros, staring at the older woman. "That face…after all these years."

"Davros," Sarah Jane breathed. "It's been quite a while. Sarah Jane Smith. Remember?"

"Oh, this is meant to be," the madman sneered. "The Circle of Time is closing. You were there on Skaro at the very beginning of my creation."

"And I've learnt how to fight since then," Sarah said bravely. "You let the Doctor go, or this Warp Star gets opened."

"I'll do it," Jack affirmed. "Don't imagine I wouldn't."

"I don't believe it," Harry said. "They're really willing to…" Then he noticed the Time Lord standing then in sullen silence. "Doctor?"

"And the prophecy unfolds," Davros croaked.

"The Doctor's soul is revealed. See him. See the heart of him," squealed Dalek Caan.

"The man who abhors violence, never carrying a gun," Davros added mockingly. "But this is the truth, Doctor. You take ordinary people, and you fashion them into weapons. Behold your Children of Time transformed into murderers. I made the Daleks, Doctor. You made this."

"They're trying to help," the Doctor murmured.

"Already I have seen them sacrifice today, for their beloved Doctor. The Earth woman who fell opening the Subwave Network."

The Doctor looked at Harry. "Who was that?"

Harry shook his head.

"Er, a woman called Harriet Jones," Rose Tyler piped up. "She gave her life to get you here."

The Doctor looked away in shame, remembering how he'd brought her down with just six words. When he was new, when he was showing off. Such an ingrate.

"How many more?" Davros inquired knowingly. "Just think. How many have died in your name?"

Adric. Peri. Jabe the tree woman. The Controller on Satellite Five. Linda-with-a-Y. Jack. Mrs. Moore. Astrid Peth. Luke Rattigan. Jenny. That mysterious River Song woman from the Library. The hostess from Midnight.

Sam Tyler.

And so many others in his very long lives that he couldn't even remember. Because if he were to name every single person who had died because of him, he would be there until the universe burned itself to nothing.

"The Doctor," Davros scoffed. "The man who keeps running…never looking back because he dare not, out of shame. This is my final victory, Doctor: I have shown you yourself."

"E-NOUGH!" the Red Dalek's voice rang out. "EN-GAGE DE-FENSE ZE-RO FIVE!"

Martha held up the Key. "It's the Crucible or the Earth."

"TRANS-MAT EN-GAGED!"

Martha gasped. "No!" The key slipped from her hand as she was transmatted out of the Osterhagen station. Jack, Sarah Jane, and the Preachers were also teleported away, Jack and Sarah's Warp Star left behind. An instant later, they all appeared in the Vault.

Martha cried out as she tumbled to the floor, no longer supported by her chair. "I've got you. It's all right," Jack said, rushing to her side protectively.

"Don't move, all of you, stay still!" the Doctor warned.

"Guard them! On your knees, all of you. Surrender!" Davros shouted.

"Do as he says," said the Doctor.

"Oh, God," whimpered Annie, huddling close to Mickey.

"S'alright, love, I won't let them hurt you," Mickey said, wrapping his arms around her.

"Preachers, get down, now!" Harry ordered. "We're outgunned here. Don't try to be heroic."

Slowly, Martha, Jack, Sarah Jane, Rose, Annie, and Mickey all got down on their knees, their hands on their heads. "The final prophecy is in place. The Doctor and his children, all gathered as witnesses," Davros declared. "Supreme Dalek, the time has come. Now, detonate the Reality Bomb!"

"You can't, Davros! Just listen to me! Just stop!" the Doctor cried desperately as the bomb warmed up.

Davros cackled. "Nothing can stop the detonation! Nothing and no one!"

But then…everyone's ears pricked up…as a certain sound faded in: a familiar, mechanical wheezing…

The Doctor stared in disbelief. "But that's-"

"Impossible!" Davros finished.

By some miracle…the TARDIS appeared, her roof light glowing like a beacon of hope.

"We're saved!" Harry cheered.

"Donna, she's alive!" the Doctor rejoiced.

The door opened, and out stepped…

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Jack.

It was a very slender man with spiky brown hair, big brown eyes, and freckles dotting his nose and cheeks. He was wearing the Doctor's blue suit with a maroon tee shirt underneath. He stepped out of the TARDIS, carrying a large weapon of some kind.

The Doctor couldn't believe his eyes. It was as if he was staring straight into a mirror.

Harry looked at the Doctor in shock. "There's two of you?!"

"Apparently," muttered the Doctor, still in shock.

Chapter 82: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 22

Notes:

Chapter based on "Journey’s End" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: July 5, 2008 (3/4).

Chapter Text

The Doctor’s lookalike, toting his large gun, suddenly darted across the room toward Davros. “Don't!” exclaimed the Doctor, but he was too late, as Davros shot out an arm and fired an electronic charge from his index finger. The Doctor’s lookalike dropped his weapon, falling to the floor in pain.

“Activate holding cell,” Davros ordered. A force field, like the ones around the Doctor and Harry, formed around the clone.

“DOCTOR!”

Donna came racing out of the TARDIS. She grabbed up the clone’s gun. “I've got it!” she yelled. She looked at it blankly. “But I don't know what to do!”

Davros then shot Donna too. Donna was sent flying backwards, the gun landing on the floor again. Donna crashed into some machinery and went still. “DONNA!” the Doctor shouted. “Donna! Are you all right, Donna?!”

“Destroy the weapon,” Davros said to one of his underlings. The Dalek foot soldier shot the gun and it exploded in a shower of sparks. “I was wrong about your warriors, Doctor. They are pathetic,” Davros said.

“How are there two of you?” Sam said.

“Human biological metacrisis,” the Doctor’s clone explained.

“Never mind that, now we've got no way of stopping the Reality Bomb,” the Doctor said flatly.

“Stand witness, Time Lord,” said Davros with a sickening grin. “Stand witness, humans. Your strategies have failed, your weapons are useless, and…oh. The end of the universe has come.”

They all looked at each other, waiting in horrified silence as the last ten seconds of existence ticked by.

“…three…two…one!”

Suddenly, the screen displaying the 27 planets shut off, and an alarm began.

“Oooh, closing all Z-neutrino relay loops using an internalized synchronous back-feed reversal loop,” Donna rattled off. She had woken up and was now standing at the controls. No one had noticed her before. Donna hit one of the controls. “That button there!” She smirked.

The Bomb was stopped.

The Doctor was bewildered. “Donna, you can't even change a plug!”

“Do you want to bet, Time Boy?” Donna said gleefully.

“You'll suffer for this!” Davros swore.

With a mocking pout, Donna lifted a lever and Davros' electrical charge backfired up own his arm, shocking him. He bellowed in pain.

“Ohhhhh!” Donna said in mock surprise. “Bio-electric dampening field with a retrograde field arc inversion.”

“Exterminate her!” Davros ordered to the Daleks.

But they were no match for Donna’s sudden enhanced intellect. As the Daleks approached, Donna worked more controls. The Daleks’ cannons on the front of their armor suddenly went limp. “WEA-PONS NON-FUNC-TION-AL!” they screamed.

“Macrotransmission of a K-filter wavelength blocking Dalek weaponry in a self-replicating energy blindfold matrix,” Donna said proudly.

“Performance issues,” said Harry. “They happen with every species, I suppose.”

“How did you work that out?” the Doctor asked. “You're-”

“Time Lord,” said the Doctor’s clone, the Metacrisis. “Part Time Lord.”

“Part human,” added Donna. “Oh, yes. That was a two-way biological metacrisis. Half Doctor, half Donna!” She hit a few more switches. “Holding cells deactivated. And seal the Vault. Well don't just stand there, you skinny boys in suits. Get to work!”

“Stop them!” Davros shrieked as the Doctor and the Metacrisis rushed to assist Donna. “Get them away from the controls!”

Donna hit a button. “Aaaaaaaaand spin.” She turned a dial, and suddenly, all the Daleks in the room began swiveling uncontrollably in circles. “And the other way.” Donna turned the dial again, and the Daleks spun the opposite direction.

“What did you do?” asked the Metacrisis.

“Trip switch circuit-breaker in the psychokinetic threshold manipulator,” Donna explained cockily.

“But that's brilliant!” the Metacrisis declared.

“Why did we never think of that?” the Doctor said.

“Because you two were just Time Lords, you dumbos, lacking that little bit of human,” Donna said. “That gut instinct that comes hand in hand with Planet Earth. I can think of ideas you two couldn't dream of in a million years. Aw, the universe has been waiting for me!” She sighed happily. “Now, let's send that trip switch all over the ship. Did I ever tell you, best temp in Chiswick?” Donna wiggled her fingers. “Hundred words per minute!”

The Metacrisis laughed triumphantly.

As the Daleks remained out of control, the Doctor, Donna, and the Metacrisis worked furiously at the controls, easily dismantling all the Daleks’ hard work. Harry, Rose, and Jack ran into the TARDIS. “Come on then, boys, we've got twenty-seven planets to send home,” Donna said. “Activate magnetron.”

“Stop this at once!” Davros shouted at them, charging at them in his roller chair.

“Not so fast, Robocop!” Harry jeered as he, Jack, and Rose piled out of the TARDIS with more weapons, focused on the Dalek leader. “Rose, baby, I think you’ve got this one covered. Me and Jack will take the smaller ones.”

“Oh, believe me,” said Rose, holding up the biggest cannon out of all of them, aiming it confidently at Davros. “I can handle him.”

“Out of the way!” Jack exclaimed, pushing one Dalek aside.

“Oh, don’t leave us out!” Annie chirped. She and Mickey grabbed ahold of another Dalek and propelled it away.

“I’ve got this one,” said Sarah Jane, shoving a third away with her boot as if it weighed hardly anything.

Harry grinned at her. “Good work, mum! Okay, Doctors, Donna—it’s all you!”

“Ready?” said Donna to the two Doctors. “And reverse!”

The three simultaneously pulled out a pair of pumps apiece, and one by one, the planets began disappearing, heading back to its proper place.

“Off you go, Clom,” said the Doctor.

“Back home, Adipose Three,” the Metacrisis added.

“Shallacatop, Pyrovillia and the Lost Moon of Poosh,” Donna included. “Sorted. Ha!”

“Ha!” the Metacrisis echoed.

“We need more power,” the Doctor reported as more and more planets returned home.

“So are any of you three show offs going to explain what happened with this whole…situation?” Harry said, waggling his finger at them. He and the others had gathered around, now that the Daleks were neutralized for the moment.

“He poured all his regeneration energy into his spare hand,” Donna explained. “I touched the hand, and he-” Donna pointed at the Metacrisis. “-grew out of that, but that fed back into me. But it just stayed dormant in my head till the synapses got that little extra spark, kicking them into life. Thank you, Davros! Part human, part Time Lord. And I got the best bit of the Doctor…I got his mind.”

“So there's three of you?” Sarah Jane said.

“Three Doctors?” Annie repeated.

“I can't tell you what I'm thinking right now,” said Jack.

“You an’ me both, mate,” Harry muttered.

“You're so unique, the timelines were converging on you,” said the Doctor with a proud grin. “Human being with a Time Lord brain.”

“Told you you were special,” said Harry to Donna with a wink.

“But you promised me, Dalek Caan!” Davros cried to the unhinged Dalek, still sitting on his pedestal. “Why did you not foresee this?”

“Oh, I think he did,” said the Doctor. “Something's been manipulating the timelines for ages, getting Donna Noble to the right place at the right time.”

“This would always have happened. I only helped, Doctor,” giggled Caan.

“You betrayed the Daleks!” Davros shrieked.

“I saw the Daleks. What we have done, throughout time and space, I saw the truth of us, Creator, and I decreed, no more!” Caan sang merrily.

“Heads up!” Jack called out as the Red Dalek entered.

“DAV-ROS, YOU HAVE BE-TRAYED US,” the Red Dalek accused.

“It was Dalek Caan!” Davros said.

“THE VAULT WILL BE PURGED,” the Red Dalek proclaimed. YOU WILL ALL BE EX-TER-MIN-A-TED!” The Red Dalek fired at the control panel.

“I don’t think so.” Rose fired her cannon at the Red Dalek, and it was destroyed in a fiery explosion.

Martha gazed at her appreciatively. “Now that’s my kind of woman.”

“Oh, we've lost the magnetron,” the Doctor announced. “And there's only one planet left. Oh, guess which one.” He grinned at them all. “But we can use the TARDIS.” He dashed inside the blue box.

“Holding Earth stability,” the Metacrisis said. “Maintaining atmospheric shell.”

“The prophecy must complete,” Caan warbled.

“Don't listen to him,” growled Davros.

“I have seen the end of everything Dalek, and you must make it happen, Doctor!”

“He's right,” said the Metacrisis. “Because with or without a Reality Bomb, this Dalek Empire's big enough to slaughter the cosmos…they've got to be stopped!”

“Wait, what are you about to do?” Harry asked.

“Just, just wait for the Doctor,” Donna beseeched nervously.

The Metacrisis looked at her. “I am the Doctor.” He looked down and began working controls. “Maximizing Dalekanium power feeds. Blasting them back!”

The Crucible shook. Suddenly, Daleks began exploding all around them.

“Oh my God,” gasped Harry.

“He’s doing it again!” Martha exclaimed, aghast. “He’s killing the entire Dalek race!”

The Doctor came running out of the TARDIS. “What have you done?” he shouted at his double.

“Fulfilling the prophecy,” the Metacrisis stated.

The Crucible was shaking itself to pieces. “Do you know what you've done?!” the Doctor yelled. “Now get in the TARDIS! Everyone! All of you, inside! Run!”

They all raced inside as the Crucible began to crumble. The Metacrisis, Donna, Mickey and Annie, Sarah Jane, Rose, Martha, Jack, and Harry.

The Doctor looked back out into the Vault. One still remained in the burning room. “Davros!” he called. He extended a hand to the creator of the Daleks, offering him a chance. “Come with me. I promise I can save you!”

Davros did not come. “Never forget, Doctor. You did this. I name you. Forever, you are the Destroyer of the Worlds!”

Then the flames rose high, as Davros’s screams died out.

"You're not dying, don't be stupid. It's only a bullet. Just regenerate."

"No."

"One little bullet, come on!"

"I guess you don't know me so well. I refuse."

"Regenerate. Just regenerate. Please. Please! Just regenerate, come on!"

"And spend the rest of my life imprisoned with you? Or maybe it wouldn't even be my life. Perhaps you'd force me into another chameleon arch, make me into your doting little pet again, hmm? You seriously believe I'd choose to live like that?"

"It wouldn't be like that, I promise! Please…it can't end like this. You and me, all the things we've done. Axons. remember the Axons? And the Daleks!...We're the only two left…there's no one else…REGENERATE!"

A soft chuckle. "How about that? I win."

The Doctor watched in anguish as the inferno blazed. He couldn’t save anyone.

Then, as if reading his thoughts, Dalek Caan croaked from across the fiery threshold: “One…will…still…die.”

The Doctor stared at the demented Dalek in horror, then a hand wrapped around his. “Come on, Spaceman!” Donna exclaimed, yanking inside.

Chapter 83: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 23

Notes:

Chapter based on "Journey’s End" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: July 5, 2008 (4/4).

Chapter Text

The Doctor and Donna took their place around the console. “And off we go!” he shouted, pulling back on a lever hard.

The entire TARDIS rocked as the Crucible’s destruction reared closer. The blue box just managed to dematerialize as the space station exploded.

“But what about the Earth?” Sarah Jane said. “It's stuck in the wrong part of space.”

“I'm on it,” said the Doctor, leaning over to look at his screen. “Torchwood Hub, this is the Doctor. Are you receiving me?”

Ianto Jones and the familiar looking, dark-haired woman from before showed up on the screen. “Loud and clear,” said the woman. “Is Jack there?”

“Can't get rid of him,” the Doctor quipped. Suddenly, it sprang to mind where he had seen her before. Flown so far…you've seen the darkness. The big, bad wolf!

The Doctor muttered to the American, “Jack, what's her name?”

“Gwen Cooper,” Jack said.

“Tell me, Gwen Cooper, are you from an old Cardiff family?” the Doctor said the woman on the monitor.

“Yes, all the way back to the 1800s,” said Gwen, sounding surprised.

“Ah, thought so,” said the Doctor. She was a distant ancestor of Gwyneth, the psychic maid from when he and Sam had met Charles Dickins in Cardiff, 1869. “Spatial genetic multiplicity.” He looked at Sam and grinned…until he realized it was Harry, not Sam. “Yeah, it's a funny old world,” said the Doctor, his smile disappearing. “Now, Torchwood, I want you to open up that rift manipulator. Send all the power to me.”

“Doing it now, sir,” said Ianto.

“What's that for?” Donna asked.

“It's a tow rope,” the Doctor explained. “Now then. Sarah, what was your son's name?”

“Luke,” Sarah replied. “He's called Luke. And the computer's called Mister Smith.”

The Doctor smiled at that. “Calling Luke and Mister Smith! This is the Doctor! Come on, Luke, shake a leg!”

The image switched to Sarah Jane’s home, and a young boy, about fourteen years old, with brown hair, appeared. “Is Mum there?” he asked hopefully.

“Oh, she's fine and dandy,” the Doctor assured him. In the background, Sarah was rejoicing that her boy was okay. “Now, Mister Smith, I want you to harness the Rift power and loop it around the TARDIS. You got that?”

“I regret, I will need remote access to TARDIS base code numerals,” replied a male, computerized voice.

The Doctor cringed. “Oh, blimey, that's going to take a while.”

“No, no, no!” Sarah said, dashing to the Doctor’s side. “Let me. K9, out you come!”

K9 appeared beside Luke. “Affirmative, Mistress,” said the robotic dog.

The Doctor laughed with delight. “Oh, good dog! K9, give Mister Smith the base code.”

“Master. TARDIS base code now being transferred,” K9 replied. “The process is simple.”

The Doctor smiled, then looked at his traveling compatriots. “Now then, you lot.” He began to direct them. “Sarah, hold that down. Harry, you hold that. You know why this TARDIS is always rattling about the place?—Rose, that there—It’s designed to have six pilots, and I have to do it single handed—Martha, keep that level—but not anymore! Jack, there you go. Steady that. Now we can fly this thing-”

Annie reached for something tentatively.

“No, Annie. No, no. Not you. Don't touch anything. Just stand back.” He patted her on the shoulder patronizingly. Annie rolled her eyes when the Doctor walked away.

“-like it's meant to be flown!” The Doctor continued. “We've got the Torchwood Rift looped around the TARDIS by Mister Smith, and we're going to fly Planet Earth back home.”

The Doctor jogged back to his station. “Right then. Off we go.” He pushed in a lever, and the TARDIS took off.

The blue box soared out of the Medusa Cascade, the big blue marble in tow. They zoomed through space, until finally, they reached the solar system, and dropped off the Earth in her proper place, right next to the Moon, in between Venus and Mars.

Everyone cheered.

The crisis was over. The TARDIS landed in the middle of Hyde Park in London to drop everyone off. The Doctor opened the doors to the sound of victorious church bells ringing nearby.

Sarah Jane was the first out of the TARDIS. She closed her eyes and took in the sunshine and Earth air happily. Then she turned to the Doctor and smiled, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. “You know, you act like such a lonely man,” she said. "But look at you. You've got the biggest family on Earth.”

The Doctor smiled at that. He gladly wrapped his arms around Sarah Jane in a long hug, grateful to have gotten to see his old friend again.

“Oh!” exclaimed Sarah, jerking out of the Doctor’s arms. “Got to go. He's only fourteen. It's a long story. And thank you!” Sarah rushed off, hurrying home to her son.

Jack and Martha were next. As the former Time Agent strolled past, the Doctor grabbed his wrist. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and started to dismantle his Vortex Manipulator. Jack moaned mournfully. “Come on, Doctor…”

“I told you, no teleport,” the Doctor scolded. “And, Martha, get rid of that Osterhagen thing, eh? Save the world one more time.”

Martha nodded. “Consider it done.”

Jack jumped to attention, saluting the Doctor. Martha did so as well. Smiling reluctantly, the Doctor saluted them back. Then something caught his eye. “Ooh, Martha…”

Martha turned and saw a man waiting at the end of the lane. He waved. Martha strode toward him, broke into a smile as she drew nearer, rushed into his arms, and planted a kiss on his lips. Then she and Tom sauntered away together.

“Ah, young love,” sighed Jack. “Which reminds me. I’ve gotta get back to my Ianto.”

“You and Ianto, eh?” The Doctor chuckled. “Well, I’m happy for you, Jack. Seems like one good thing came out of all that misery.”

Jack gazed at him sadly. “Sam was a good man, Doctor. And he loved you a lot. He wouldn’t want you to be sad.”

The Doctor smiled wistfully. “I know. He was a good man…my good man.”

Jack threw his arms around the Doctor in a tight embrace. He patted the Doctor’s back, and then he was gone too.

The Doctor watched him go for a moment, then he stepped back in the TARDIS. “Alright, kids. Next stop: Harry Saxon’s world.”

The TARDIS materialized, and the Doctor stepped out with Harry and the other Preachers, and Donna and the Metacrisis.

“Ah, here we are,” said the Doctor. “Parallel world. Home sweet home.”

There were on a beach somewhere. Mickey looked around. “Where have you dropped us off? Is this England?”

“Mmm…no. Norway, I b’lieve,” said the Doctor.

“It’s called Dårlig Ulv-Stranden in Norwegian,” Donna said from the doorway of the TARDIS. “Or, in English, ‘Bad Wolf Bay’.”

Harry smiled at the Doctor knowingly. “How fitting, hmm?”

“Seriously, guv? Couldn’ta dropped us off a bit closer to home?” Mickey scowled.

“Oh, England’s just a hop, skip, and a jump over the North Sea. Besides, feel that bracing wind,” said the Doctor, taking in a deep breath. “Salt air! Good for the sinuses.”

Rose pulled out a satellite phone. “I’ll try to contact Dad, see if he can send transport. Come on, you guys.” She coaxed Mickey and Annie away with her. “Let’s give them some privacy.”

Annie looked back over her shoulder. “Doctor…thank you.”

The Doctor smiled. “Thank you, Annie.”

Annie’s eyes widened. “Oh my God.”

The Doctor realized, with horror, what he had said. “No, no, I meant Anna!”

“You finally got my name right!” Annie squealed, bounding over and pulling the Doctor into a bear hug.

“No, no, it was just an accident!” the Doctor groaned.

“You got my name right, you got my name right!” Annie sang teasingly, squeezing the Time Lord tightly.

The Doctor sighed in defeat and hugged the policewoman back. “Well…I guess you win.”

“Hah!” laughed Annie triumphantly. Then she smiled genuinely and hugged the Doctor again. “Goodbye, Doctor.”

“So long,” said the Doctor. Annie turned and walked a few yards down the beach to join Mickey and Rose.

Harry was staring out across the grey water lapping the shore. “So we’re back. Easy as that.”

“And the walls of the world are closing again, now that the Reality Bomb never happened. It's dimensional retroclosure,” Donna said. She grinned, proud of herself. “See, I really get that stuff now.”

Harry looked at the Doctor. “And you’re going back to your dimension. So that means…”

“That this is our parting,” the Doctor finished. “No crossing back this time.”

Harry sighed. “Spent all that time trying to…”

“Trying to what?” the Doctor asked.

Harry blushed. “Nothing,” he said. “You’re right. I-we belong here, and you belong there. Of course.”

“That’s right,” said the Doctor. “And besides…Harold Saxon…I have a job for you to do.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked curiously.

The Doctor nodded to his clone. “Watching over him.”

Harry was surprised. “You mean…he’s staying here?”

The Metacrisis’s eyes widened, and he looked at his progenitor, then at Harry.

The Doctor nodded solemnly. “We saved the universe, but at a cost. And the cost is him. He destroyed the Daleks. He committed genocide. He's too dangerous to be left on his own.”

“You made me,” said the Metacrisis defensively.

“Exactly,” replied the Doctor. “You were born in battle, full of blood and anger and revenge. Remind you of someone? That's me, when I first met…when I first met Sam. And he made me better.” The Doctor looked at Harry. “Now you can do the same for him.”

Harry and the Metacrisis stared at each other. Harry finally looked away, blushing. “Look, Doctor…I appreciate what you’re trying to do, really, but…but I’m not Sam. I may have his devastatingly good looks, but what you…what he wants is a man that I’ll never be.”

“You don’t have to be Sam,” said the Metacrisis, stepping close to Harry. “I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

Harry stared into his eyes. “So…you want to stay here, then? With…me?”

The Metacrisis nodded. “The Doctor’s right. I need someone. I need you.”

Harry’s gaze dropped to his shoes shyly.

“But it's better than that, though,” Donna piped up. “Junior…tell him the best part.”

The Metacrisis looked at her curiously. “‘Junior’?”

Donna shrugged. “We’ve got to call you something.”

“Well, why not…John?” suggested the Metacrisis.

“Okay, John, then,” said Donna impatiently. “But tell him!”

“Tell me what?” said Harry to John.

“The Doctor is a Time Lord. But me? I’m a hybrid. I’m part human. Specifically, the aging part. I'll grow old and never regenerate.”

“You’re saying…”

John nodded. “I've only got one life, Harry Saxon. I could spend it with you…if you want.”

“You'll grow old at the same time as me?”

John smiled gently. “Together.”

Harry smiled too. Then he caught himself. “Wait, no. This is…crazy. I mean…yeah, I like you, but…I don’t really know you. You’re basically two hours old! And just because…just because I look like Sam and you’re a clone of the Doctor…doesn’t mean that we…we just automatically…” Harry’s voice faltered. He stared at John for a moment. “Um…oh, screw it.” He grabbed John by the lapels of his blue suit and kissed him deeply.

The Doctor watched the facsimiles of himself and Sam Tyler passionately embrace, then quickly turned and went back into the TARDIS. “We've got to go,” he said to Donna. “This reality is sealing itself off forever.”

Harry and John broke off kissing at the sound of TARDIS wheezing. They watched it disappear. “Thank you, Doctor,” whispered Harry, snuggling close to his new lover.

“Yes,” rumbled John, hugging Harry tightly, nuzzling his caramel-colored hair. “Thank you.”

As the TARDIS returned to her proper world, the Doctor was gearing himself up for one of the most difficult things he’d ever have to do.

“…I thought we could try the planet Feldspoon,” said Donna, idly toying with some of the TARDIS controls, now that she knew what all of them did. “Just because. What a good name, Feldspoon. Apparently, it's got mountains that sway in the breeze. Mountains that move. Can you imagine?”

“And how do you know that?” the Doctor said.

“Because it's in your head,” said Donna smugly. “And if it's in your head, it's in mine.”

“And how does that feel?”

“Brilliant! Fantastic! Molto bene! Great big universe, packed into my brain,” Donna rattled off, speaking a thousand words per minute. “You know you could fix that chameleon circuit if you just tried hot-binding the fragment links and superseding the binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary-” Donna gasped for breath.

It was beginning.

“I'm fine,” Donna said quickly. “Nah, never mind Feldspoon. You know who I'd like to meet? Charlie Chaplin. I bet he's great, Charlie Chaplin. Shall we do that? Shall we go and see Charlie Chaplin? Shall we? Charlie Chaplin? Charlie Chester. Charlie Brown. No, he's fiction. Friction, fiction, fixing, mixing, Rickston, Brixton-” Donna gasped again, doubling over in pain. “Oh, my God,” she moaned.

“Do you know what's happening?” the Doctor said.

Donna sucked in a stuttered breath. “Yeah,” she whispered.

“There's never been a human-Time Lord metacrisis before now,” said the Doctor softly. “And you know why.”

“Because there can't be,” Donna responded.

The Doctor’s stomach squeezed with regret. He would give anything, anything, not to have to do this.

Donna sniffled hard, edging away from him. “I want to stay,” she said firmly.

The Doctor leaned toward her. “Look at me…Donna, look at me.”

The Chiswick temp finally turned her head to face the Time Lord. “I was going to be with you forever,” she said sorrowfully.

“I know.”

“The rest of my life, travelling in the TARDIS.” Tears welled up in Donna’s eyes. “The DoctorDonna.” Donna’s eyes widened as she realized what had to be done. “No. Oh my God. I can't go back.”

The Doctor placed his hands on Donna’s shoulders.

“Don't make me go back,” Donna begged, trembling. “Doctor, please, please don't make me go back!”

“Donna,” murmured the Doctor. “Oh, Donna Noble. I am so sorry. But we had the best of times. The best.”

Tears streaked down Donna’s face.

“Goodbye.” The Doctor put his fingers to Donna’s temples.

“No, no, no. Please! Please. No! No…”

The Doctor cleared every single golden memory of himself, Sam, the TARDIS, and all their glorious adventures together, from Donna’s brain. “No!” Donna shrieked as the last recollection slipped from her mind. She immediately fell asleep in the Doctor’s arms.

The Doctor hugged her unconscious form tight to him resignedly.

It was all over.

Chapter 84: The Age Of Saxon, Volume 24

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Next Doctor" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: December 25, 2008; "Planet Of The Dead" by Russell T. Davies and Gareth Roberts, original air date: April 11, 2009; and "The Waters of Mars" by Russell T. Davies and Phil Ford, original air date: November 15, 2009.

Chapter Text

When the Doctor landed in London on Christmas, 1851, and met “the Doctor” and his companion Samantha (good name), he felt as though he’d been gifted a smile that he hadn’t been allowed in a long time. Sure, Jackson Lake wasn’t really the Doctor, but it was a jolly romp to fight the Cybermen side by side with him.

When the Doctor revealed the infostamp that had downloaded Lake’s mind with the Doctor’s story, Lake was crushed. “I am nothing but a lie,” he said in anguish.

“No, no, no, no, no,” the Doctor insisted. “Infostamps are just facts and figures. All that bravery. Saving Samantha, defending London Town, hmm? And the invention. Building a TARDIS. That's all you.”

“Sam didn’t hurt all those people, the Master did. Besides…he wasn’t real.”

“Yes, he was. And it’s disrespectful of the dead to keep saying that. Sam was as real as I am. Maybe he turned into something else, but he was real. And he truly loved you—that was real too. You only say he wasn’t real so you don’t have deal with the truth.”

“And what else?” whispered Lake, glaring at him. “Tell me what else.”

“There's still something missing, isn't there?” the Doctor said.

“I demand you tell me, sir! Tell me what they took!”

“Sorry,” said the Doctor sorrowfully. “Really, I am so sorry…” The Doctor looked across the room at Lake’s pile of suitcases. “But that's an awful lot of luggage for one man. Because an infostamp is plain technology. It's not enough to make a man lose his mind. What you suffered is called a fugue. A fugue state, where the mind just runs away because it can't bear to look back.”

“I was there when the Dalek Emperor took control of the Cruciform. I saw it. I ran…I ran so far. Made myself human so they would never find me, because I was so scared.”

“You wanted to become someone else, because Jackson Lake had lost so much,” the Doctor said softly.

A nearby church bell began to chime. “Midnight,” commented Samantha softly. “Christmas Day.”

“I remember,” rasped Lake with a faraway look in his eye. “Oh, my God…Caroline. They killed my wife.” He broke down into tears. “They killed her!”

But when all was said and done, after the CyberKing and its minions were gone, all was well. Jackson was with his son, and he had Samantha.

“Tell me one thing,” Lake said to the Doctor as he was preparing to leave. “All those facts and figures I saw of the Doctor's life, you were never alone. All those bright and shining companions. But not anymore?”

The Doctor’s hearts ached as he thought of Donna, who he’d had to send away for her own good. Of Martha, who’d left him for better things. For all his beloved friends…and of Sam. Of the Master.

“No,” the Doctor replied.

“Might I ask why not?”

“They leave,” the Doctor said. “Because they should. Or they find someone else. And some of them, some of them…forget me. I suppose in the end…they break my heart.”

After a moment, Lake said, “That offer of Christmas dinner. It's no longer a request, it's a demand…in memory of those we've lost.”

The Doctor inhaled and trilled his lips reluctantly. “Oh, go on then.” He smiled.

It wasn’t his family, but it would do.

Christina de Souza would’ve made an excellent companion, if the Doctor hadn’t decided to go it on his own from here on out. She was bold and daring, and kept her head better than anyone when their double decker wound up on an alien planet. But in all honesty…she would have been just like Sam. They would’ve come sweeping into each other’s lives, shaken them, and then her fire would have been extinguished too soon. But to be fair, the Doctor thought he’d sent her off well. She could have adventures all on her own. She didn’t need him.

With UNIT’s help from the other side, and the pooled talents of the bus passengers, they got back to London in one piece (mostly) and closed the portal before the stingray-like aliens invaded the Earth.

But just when the Doctor thought all was well and good…

“Doctor? You take care now,” said Carmen, the psychic woman.

“You too,” said the Doctor with a cheery smile. “Chops and gravy, lovely.”

“No, but you be careful,” said Carmen gravely. “Because your song is ending, sir.”

“I think your song must end soon,” Ood Sigma had said to him on the Oodsphere. “Every song must end.”

“What do you mean?” the Doctor asked, suddenly feeling a bit panicked.

“It is returning. It is returning through the dark. And then, Doctor? Oh, but…” Carmen paused, then shivered. “He will knock four times.”

The Doctor’s eyes widened in horror. No…she can’t possibly mean…

The Doctor had always liked Mars. It reminded him a lot of the tranquility of the moon, but it was a much prettier color.

But after the water incident, he may never step foot on Mars again.

When the Doctor realized he had barged in on the staff of Bowie Base One, led by the legendary Adelaide Brooke, he should have left right away and never looked back. But as always, he let himself get dragged into the chaos. Stupid Doctor. Always getting too involved.

He liked Adelaide. He’d always admired her from history. Her bravery inspired millions, and triggered so many significant advancements for the human race. But he’d gotten to know her, and he liked her. But he knew her fate. It was a fixed point in time…but he was the last of the Time Lords, no matter what Carmen’s ominous prophecy had meant.

So he decided that today was the day that he defied the stars.

“It can't be stopped,” Adelaide begged him. “Don't die with us.”

“No, because someone told me just recently, they said I was going to die,” the Doctor replied. “They said he will knock four times, and I think I know what that means, and it doesn't mean right here, right now, because I don't hear anyone knocking, do you?”

Suddenly, one of the infected crew members on the outside banged on the bulkhead three times.

“Three knocks is all you're getting!” the Doctor exclaimed. He turned and hit a command on the control panel. Outside, the crew member was hit with a blast of electricity. He groaned and fell to the floor.

“Water and electricity, bad mix!” the Doctor exclaimed triumphantly. “Now then, what else have we got?”

“But there's no way to fight them!” Adelaide argued.

“Heat! They use water, so we can use heat. Works against the Ice Warriors, works against the Flood. Ramp up the environment controls and steam them,” the Doctor rattled off, racing around the room, setting off controls.

“But you said we die!” Adelaide yelled. The base shook, nearly knocking everyone to the floor. “For the future, for the human race!” Adelaide continued to argue.

“Yes, because there are laws,” said the Doctor, turning to look at her. “There are Laws of Time. Once upon a time there were people in charge of those laws, but they died…they all died!” His voice cracked.

“We're the only two left. There's no one else…REGENERATE!"

A dark chuckle. "How about that? I win."

“Do you know who that leaves? ME!” the Doctor shouted. “It's taken me all these years to realize the Laws of Time are mine, and they will obey me!”

In the end, he managed to save Adelaide and two other members of Bowie Base One. He brought them home, to Earth, safe and sound.

“You saved us,” said Adelaide angrily as the other two ran off, frightened by the Doctor and the TARDIS.

“Just think though. Your daughter, and your daughter's daughter, you can see them again. Family reunion.” The Doctor smiled, proud of himself.

“But I'm supposed to be dead.”

“Not any more.”

“But Susie, my granddaughter. The person she's supposed to become might never exist now,” Adelaide argued.

“Nah! Captain Adelaide can inspire her face to face. Different details, but the story's the same.”

“You can't know that,” Adelaide insisted. “And if my family changes, the whole of history could change. The future of the human race. No one should have that much power!”

The Doctor shrugged. “Tough.”

Adelaide took a step back from him. “You should have left us there.”

“Adelaide, I've done this sort of thing before,” said the Doctor in a cavalier tone. “In small ways, saved some little people, but never someone as important as you. Oh, I'm good.”

“Little people?” Adelaide repeated angrily. “What, like Mia and Yuri? Who decides they're so unimportant? You?”

“For a long time now, I thought I was just a survivor, but I'm not,” said the Doctor. “I'm the winner. That's who I am. The Time Lord Victorious.”

“And there's no one to stop you,” Adelaide whispered.

“No.”

“This is wrong, Doctor,” Adelaide said sternly. “I don't care who you are. The Time Lord Victorious is wrong.”

“That's for me to decide,” the Doctor replied. “Now, you'd better get home. Oh, it's all locked up. You've been away. Still, that's easy.” He pointed his sonic screwdriver at Adelaide’s front door, and opened it. “All yours.”

Adelaide scoffed. “Is there nothing you can't do?”

“Not anymore,” the Doctor answered.

Adelaide gave him one last disapproving glare, then went inside. The Doctor turned and headed back to his TARDIS. He was about to step inside when he heard phaser fire go off from inside Adelaide’s house. The Doctor froze in his tracks and looked back at the house in horror.

A vision of the headlines about Adelaide’s brave death in the line of duty flashed before his eyes. Where it had previously said that she died on Mars, it now said Earth.

Adelaide had killed herself. Her granddaughter would still go on to do great things like her grandmother. The timeline was restored. The Doctor leaned back in against the doors of the TARDIS, suddenly having trouble breathing.

How’s it feel, Doctor? the Master sneered in his head. To go over the edge? To taste the forbidden fruit? To be like me.

The Doctor heard haunting singing and peered around the side of his TARDIS. He saw none other than Ood Sigma, standing there in the snow, staring back at him calmly. “I've gone too far,” he whispered, dismayed. The Doctor sank to his knees, feeling weak. “Is this it? My death? Is it time?!”

Ood Sigma vanished without a single utterance.

The Doctor scrambled to his feet and hurried inside the Tardis. The cloister bell was toiling. The Doctor stared off into the distance, his fists balled. “No,” he whispered fiercely.

Chapter 85: This Song Is Ending, Volume 1

Notes:

Chapter based on "The End Of Time, Part 1" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: December 25, 2009 (1/6).

Chapter Text

“Love and hate. Frightening feelings...especially when they’re trapped, struggling beneath the surface.” -The Seventh Doctor

Three years later (the Doctor’s personal timeline)…

The TARDIS materialized with a wheeze and a thump. The Doctor poked his head outside, the sharp cold of the snowy Oodsphere immediately biting at his nose and cheeks. Nevertheless, he smiled cheerfully. He was wearing a straw hat, sunglasses, and a pink lei around his neck.

Ood Sigma was again awaiting him out in the snow.

“Ah!” the Doctor called. “Now, sorry! There you are.” The Doctor closed the TARDIS behind him and sauntered toward the Ood, sliding his hands into his pockets. “So…where were we? I was summoned, wasn't I?”

Ood Sigma blinked at him.

“An Ood in the snow, calling to me. Well, I didn't exactly come straight here. Had a bit of fun, you know, traveled about, did this and that. Got into trouble. You know me,” the Doctor babbled. “It was brilliant. I saw the Phosphorous Carousel of the Great Magellan Gestadt. Saved a planet from the Red Carnivorous Maw. Named a galaxy Alison. Got married! That was a mistake. Good Queen Bess. And let me tell you, her nickname is no longer…” The Doctor winced. “Ahem. Anyway, what do you want?”

“You should not have delayed,” said Ood Sigma in his electronically generated, yet hauntingly melodic voice.

“The last time I was here you said my song would be ending soon,” the Doctor replied. “And I'm in no hurry for that.”

“You will come with me.”

“Hold on. Better lock the TARDIS,” the Doctor said. He dug a remote key from his pocket and pointed it back at his blue box. The TARDIS made a car-like duke duke noise, and its beacon on top flashed twice briefly.

The Doctor grinned at Ood Sigma. “Eh? Like a car.”

The Ood tipped his head to the side, unamused.

“I l-locked it like a car. Like…it's funny…No? Little bit?”

Ood Sigma turned away and began walking across the snowscape.

“Blimey, try to make an Ood laugh,” the Doctor muttered under his breath, following after him.

“So how old are you now, Ood Sigma?” the Doctor asked as they approached their destination. Then he spotted a great city built in the snow where the sinister Ood Operations facilities had once stood. “Ah! Magnificent!” The Doctor turned to grin at his walking companion, but the Ood remained stoic. “Oh, come on!” the Doctor said, shoving him playfully. “That is splendid.” Curiously, the Doctor took a sniff of the air to see what time period it was. He frowned. “You've achieved all this in how long?”

“One hundred years,” Ood Sigma answered.

The Doctor’s frown deepened. “Then we've got a problem. Because all of this is way too fast. Not just the city, I mean your ability to call me. Reaching all the way back to the twenty first century. Something's accelerating your species way beyond normal.”

“And the Mind of the Ood is troubled,” Ood Sigma informed him.

“Why, what's happened?” the Doctor asked.

“Every night, Doctor, every night we have bad dreams…”

Ood Sigma took him to the Ood Council, where the Ood were communing with the universe. The Elder was muttering furiously: Returning, returning, returning, it is slowly returning through the dark and the fire and the blood. Always returning, returning to this world. It is returning, and he is returning, and they are returning, but too late. Too late. Far too late. He has come.

“Sit with the Elder of the Ood and share the dreaming,” Ood Sigma said, leading the Doctor to the circle.

“Oh. Right.” The Doctor awkwardly took his seat among them. “‘Ello.”

“You will join. You will join. You will join,” the Ood began to chant simultaneously. They all joined hands. “You will join. You will join. You will join. You will join.”

The Doctor cautiously took the hands with those Ood flanking him. He gasped as his inner eye was flooded with a vision.

A very familiar man, his hair turned straw blonde and scruffy stubble grown on his jaw. The man was cackling maniacally, throwing his head back. Ahahahahahahaha!

The Doctor jerked his hands from the circle in the circle, his brown eyes gone wide.

The Master.

“He comes to us every night,” said the Elder Ood. “I think all the peoples of the universe dream of him now.”

“That man is dead,” the Doctor argued, holding back a tremble.

“There is yet more. Join us.”

The Doctor inhaled deeply through his nose and took the hands of the Ood again.

“Events are taking shape,” said the Elder Ood. “So many years ago, and yet changing the now. There is a man…so scared.”

The Doctor got another flash, of an elderly human male with snow white hair and beard, troubled, wringing his hands with worry as he sat at the kitchen table of his small home in Chiswick. “Wilfred. Is he all right?” the Doctor asked. “What about Donna, is she safe?!”

“You should not have delayed, for the lines of convergence are being drawn across the Earth,” the Elder chastised him. “Even now, the king is in his counting house.”

Yet another image: an important-looking man in a suit, posing for a publicity photo with a young woman in a pink dress.

“I don't know who they are,” the Doctor said.

“And there is another. The most lonely of all, lost and forgotten.”

A scared, pale, miserable woman with blonde hair, sitting in a dark cell, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. It was none other than Lucy Saxon. “The Master's wife,” the Doctor said.

Lucy’s shoulders shook as she wept in the darkness.

“We see so much, but understand little,” said Ood Sigma. “The woman in the cage-- who is she?”

As much disdain as the Doctor should hold for her for being a murderer, not mention the murderer of the only other surviving member of his race, he couldn’t fault her. The Master had terrorized her, made her his puppet, his slave. In a way, the Doctor pitied her; he almost felt guilty for what had been done to her. “She was…it wasn't her fault, she was…the Master, he's a Time Lord, like me. I can show you.”

He clutched the Oods’ hands and pushed images into their mind…

A young boy with thick, dark brown hair was sitting at a desk all by himself, concentrating on sketching in his notepad. He was small, and quite isolated from the others.

“Hello.”

The boy looked up at the word. He had large violet-colored eyes.

Theta was standing over him, smiling. “What’re you doing over here all by yourself?”

“Why should I tell you?” the other boy asked suspiciously.

Theta shrugged. “’Cause I asked?”

After a moment’s deliberation, the boy turned his pad around to show Theta—a page full of mathematical equations. “I’m developing a theory on temporal clonation. Whether or not it’s possible to replicate organic life out of dead DNA.”

“But that’s ridiculously simple,” Theta said. “The primitive people of Sol 3 even made a motion picture about it: Jurassic Park.”

The boy wrinkled his eyebrows. “That’s such a random fact.”

Theta shrugged sheepishly. “Xenohistory is sort of a hobby of mine.”

“Well, regular cloning is all fine and good, but genetics are only a cellular level. I’m trying completely recreate a living object, physiology and psycho-physiology alike.”

“Hmm. Lose someone, did you? Or something?”

The boy blushed. He looked down at his lap. “Shut up.”

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to…” Theta waited patiently.

The boy sighed disgustedly. “It’s my dog, okay? I had a dog, and she…died last week, just before I came here, to the Academy. I just want her back, okay?” he said defensively.

Theta studied him for a moment, then plopped down in the chair beside him. “Okay. Let’s figure it out then.”

“Us?” the boy repeated incredulously.

“Sure!” Theta replied cheerfully.

The boy looked at him suspiciously. “Why would you want to help me?”

“I dunno. Does there have to be a reason?”

The boy turned his head away. “No one here is very interested in being friendly to me.”

“Correction: was.” Theta smiled encouragingly and put his hand out to shake. “My friends call me Theta Sigma. House of Lungbarrow.”

The boy considered him for a moment, then shook his hand. “Koschei. Of the House of Oakdown.” He actually smiled.

The Doctor then showed the Ood what the Master had done on Earth during his reign as Prime Minister/Lord Master of the Earth. “The Master took the name of Saxon. He married a human, a woman called Lucy. And he corrupted her. She stood at his side while he conquered the Earth. I reversed everything he'd done so it never even happened, but Lucy Saxon remembered…”

Gunshot.

Catching the Master as he staggered backwards. “I've got you. I've got you…”

“I held him in my arms…”

“We're the only two left. There's no one else…”

“I burnt his body!”

Setting the Master’s funeral pyre alight. “This is how a warrior is sent off."

"He's a murderer.”

"Well…so am I."

“The Master is dead!” the Doctor exclaimed.

“And yet, you did not see,” responded the Elder Ood.

“What's that?” the Doctor asked.

The Ood pushed a new image into his head: a woman in black, picking up a signet ring from the ashes at the base of the Master’s pyre. The ring had small Gallifreyan symbols carved into the top of it. The Doctor’s hearts stopped beating in horror as he realized it was an Mental-Imprint DnA Storer, or simply known as a MIDAS. The Doctor should know—he and the Master had developed the technology themselves when they were very, very young. A blueprint to rebuild the Master was inside that ring, and all it needed was a construction site.

“Part of him survived. I have to go!” the Doctor exclaimed, jumping up from the circle.

“But something more is happening, Doctor,” said the Elder Ood, stopping him. “The Master is part of a greater design, because a shadow is falling over creation. Something vast is stirring in the dark.” The Oods’ eyes all began to glow red, like they did when they became rabid. “The Ood have gained this power to see through time, because time is bleeding. Shapes of things once lost are moving through the veil, and these events from years ago threaten to destroy this future, and the present, and the past.”

“What do you mean?” the Doctor inquired urgently.

“This is what we have seen, Doctor. The darkness heralds only one thing…the end of time itself.”

The Master’s evil laughter echoing his mind, the Doctor raced from the cavern and back through the snowy hills to his TARDIS. His feet couldn’t carry him fast enough.

Chapter 86: This Song Is Ending, Volume 2

Notes:

Chapter based on "The End Of Time, Part 1" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: December 25, 2009 (2/6).

Chapter Text

A long time ago…

"Do we have everything we need?" Theta asked.

Koschei held up a signet ring. "Cassiopeia's DNA matrix is encapsulated inside here. Even her brainwave signatures. I disguised it as my family's ring. I'm calling it a Mental-Imprint DnA Storer."

"Hm. Could call it 'MIDAS' for short."

Koschei scrunched his eyebrows. "I'll consider it."

"Anyway, I've got the bioconstructive neutro-formula," said Theta, holding up a couple of bottles of thick blue liquid. "It wasn't easy snitching this from Professor Betacron's lab. If I get caught…"

Koschei looked at him. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Theta nodded and smiled. "Yes."

"Okay." Koschei placed the ring into a bowl and poured the formula over it.

"Now, all we need is the imprint," Theta said.

"Got that." Koschei held up a dog's food bowl. "Cassie's slobber was all over this." He took a napkin and wiped over the rim and the inside of the bowl.

Theta wrinkled his nose. "Ew," he laughed.

"And you got the anti-formula too, right?"

Theta held up a bottle of greenish-yellow watery liquid. "Right here. But nothing will go wrong, Kos."

Koschei looked at him nervously. "You don't know that."

"You just have to believe," Theta said. "Now…ready?"

Koschei nodded. He held the napkin above the bowl…and dropped it in.

The inside of the bowl lit up blue. A swirl of energy blossomed out of it.

"Whoa…" said Theta.

Suddenly he gasped, and his stance weakened. A wave of blue energy burst from his chest.

"Theta!" Koschei gasped.

"Kos…" Theta gasped weakly. "What's happening?"

"I don't know…oh no. The process needed a source of energy to reanimate Cassie…and it's taking your life force!" Koschei dashed the bowl with the anti-formula. The vortex dispersed with a flash of white, and Koschei was thrown backward by the force of the blast. Theta gasped for air, clutching his chest.

Koschei crawled across the floor toward him, probably bruised from the incident. "You alright?"

"Yeh," huffed Theta. He blinked up at Koschei. "Thanks."

Koschei nodded. Then his violet eyes looked over at the ruined experiment in disappointment.

Present day, Earth (Broadfell Prison, England)…

Lucy Saxon heard the metallic sounds of a key being shoved into her cell door. The lock turned and the door creaked open to reveal several guards standing there. One of them, obviously the leader due to her more elaborate uniform, looked at Lucy and gestured her head to come with them. Lucy, feeling slightly weak, obediently got to her feet and walked outside of her tiny room for the first time in months.

Of course, she couldn't be entirely sure of the timeframe. It could have been months, it could've been hours. It could've been decades.

Lucy winced even in the moderate amber light in the corridor. One of the guards pushed her forward, and she began marching down the hallway with the guards.

They lead her into a warm chamber, lit by candles and with a concrete pedestal in the center. An older blonde woman in all black was waiting her. "Mrs. Saxon," the woman greeted her in a high-pitched, unpleasant voice. "Let me introduce myself. I'm your new Governor. I'm afraid the previous Governor met with something of an accident, which took quite some time to arrange."

Lucy swallowed.

The Governor turned her head toward the officer flanking her left. "Miss Trefusis, if you will prepare."

Miss Trefusis fetched an object—a wooden bowl—and placed it on the pedestal. "You kept your silence well, Mrs. Saxon," the Governor continued. "Your trial was held in secret, with no jury, so no one knows who Harold Saxon was, where he came from…why you killed him." The Governor looked at Lucy's guards. "Make her kneel."

The guards pushed her by the shoulders to the ground. "There are those of us who never lost faith," said the Governor. "And in his wisdom, Harold Saxon prepared for this moment. He knew that he might die and he made us ready. Tonight, Mrs. Saxon…he returns."

Miss Trefusis held out her hand, displaying a brass signet ring on her finger with circular alien script etched into it. Lucy gasped in terror.

The ring was placed into the bowl and anointed with blue oil. "As it was written in the Secret Books of Saxon, these are the Potions of Life."

"Listen to me," Lucy said urgently. "Whatever he told you, you've got no idea what you're doing!"

"Miss Trefusis, the catalyst," ordered the Governor.

"What are you doing?" Lucy uttered as the woman marched toward her. "Leave me alone!" she screamed as Miss Trefusis jerked her head back and pressed a cloth to her lips.

"You were Saxon's wife," said the Governor. "You bore his imprint. That's all we needed. The final biometrical signature."

Miss Trefusis brought the cloth to the pedestal and held it over the bowl.

"You can't bring him back, you can't!" Lucy shrieked.

Miss Trefusis dropped the imprint into the bowl.

Suddenly a large flash of blue light emanated from the. Then a brilliant vortex of energy, sending streaks of lightning up through the open ceiling and into the sky.

"I'm begging you! Stop this now before it's too late!" Lucy cried.

"We give ourselves that Saxon might live!" the Governor declared. The very life forces of her and the acolytes burst forth from their chests to join the energy vortex. One by one, they fell to the ground. The stolen energies merged and began forming a humanoid shape in the center of the vortex.

"Can't you see?!" Lucy shouted at them helplessly. "He lied to you. His name isn't even Harold Saxon!"

"And this was written also!" bellowed the Governor. "For his name is...the Master!"

Skin…torso…limbs…face. "Never," gasped the figure. "Never! Never never! Never dying. NEVER DYING!"

The Master was fully formed.

"NEVER DYING! NEVER DYING! NEVER DYING!" The Time Lord cackled triumphantly. He extended his arms toward Lucy from within his life giving energy mass. "Oh, Lucy. Sweet Lucy Saxon. My ever faithful. Did the widow's kiss bring me back to life?"

"You're killing them!" Lucy shouted, looking at the cult members around as the Master continued to suck the life from them.

"Oh, let them die!" the Master scoffed. "They're just the first! The whole stupid, stinking, human disgrace can fall into the pit." The Master winced and rubbed his face, then cupped his ears. "Can't you hear it, Lucy? The noise? The drumbeat…louder than ever before! The drums. The never-ending drums." The Master grinned. "Oh, I have missed them!"

Lucy slowly rose to her feet. "But no one knew you better than I did. I knew you'd come back! And all this time, your disciples have prepared. But so have we."

One of the guards behind her handed her a small vial. "What are you doing?" the Master demanded.

"The Secret Books of Saxon spoke of the Potions of Life. And I was never that bright, but my family had contacts. People who were clever enough to calculate the opposite!" Lucy uncorked the bottle.

"Don't you dare! I'm ordering you, Lucy!" The Master roared. "You will obey me!"

"Till death do us part, Harry!" Lucy screamed.

"NO!"

Lucy threw the contents of the vial upon him, and everything exploded in a flash of white.

Chapter 87: This Song Is Ending, Volume 3

Summary:

Chapter based on "The End Of Time, Part 1" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: December 25, 2009 (3/6).

Chapter Text

The instant the TARDIS had materialized, the Doctor raced outside…only to see that he was too late. He stared desperately at the charred, crumbled remains of Broadfell Prison. The deed was already done.

The Master had returned.

Meanwhile, in a junkyard only a few miles away from the wreckage, a cheery blonde woman named Sarah was serving food from her truck to a couple of homeless men. "And don't forget tomorrow night. The Christmas broadcast. President Obama. He's promised to end the recession. Bad times will soon be over, Ginger. Happy Christmas!" she called to them as they walked away with their burgers. "Now, what can we get you, sir?" she asked the next person.

The person turned toward her slowly. She only caught a peek of Caucasian flesh under the black hood of the man's sweatshirt. "Everything," he softly growled. He pulled his hands from his front pocket and pushed back his hood, revealing bleached blonde hair, stubble, and manically gleaming hazel eyes. "I am so hungry," he grinned. Then he laughed manically.

The two homeless men settled down with their food near their burn barrel to keep warm. "They're saying that the President's got this grand plan," one was telling his friend in a sarcastic tone. "He's going to save the world with some big financial scheme. Whatever it is, I bet it won't reach you and me."

Suddenly they heard a thump, and they turned to see the man in the hoodie who'd been in line behind them at the food truck plopping down on the seat behind theirs, a big, fat, juicy hamburger in his hands just like theirs. "Somebody's lively on his feet," commented the first man.

"Starving," the man in black. Then he ate his burger in a matter of seconds, with barely enough time to chew. He even licked the crumbs and oils from the wrapper, as if still not satisfied.

"Now, you see? That's what you don't want to do," said the first man. "Eat it all at once. Tempting, I know. But if you make it last, it can last all day."

"Want more," uttered the man in black, almost as if he didn't even register the other two men sitting beside him. "Want cheese and chips. And meat and gravy. And cream and beer. And pork and beef and fat. Great big chunks of hot, wet, red."

The first man side-eyed his friend. Clearly this guy was a nutter. "Good for you, mate. Maybe we'd better be going…"

"You look like that bloke," said the second man, speaking up for the first time. "Harold Saxon? The one that went mad."

The man in black leered at him, chuckling menacingly. "Now isn't that funny. Isn't that just the best thing of all. The master of disguise, stuck looking like the old Prime Minister!" He laughed again, louder. "I can't hide anywhere. He can see me. He can smell me. Can't let him smell me." The man in black rubbed the hamburger wrapper all over his face, as if trying to mask his own scent. "Doctor-Doctor-shocked 'er-stopped 'er-got to stop the smell. The stink. The filthy, filthy stink!"

"Ginger, come with me. Right now," said the first homeless man, hurrying out of his chair. His friend was quick to follow suit.

Because it's funny!" shouted the man in black, holding up one finger. The other two men stopped in their tracks. "Don't you see? Look at me. I'm splitting my sides!"

Suddenly, the man's whole head flashed electric blue, like an x-ray, showing the skull underneath the skin, just for a moment. "I am hilarious! I am the funniest thing in the whole wide world!" he shouted as his face did it again. He cackled.

The two men scarpered away, making like quicksilver for the food truck. "Sarah! God help us! There's this man!" they shouted. But then they froze when they caught sight of the truck, terrified and sickened.

Sarah and the cook's skeletons were standing in the van, their flesh picked clean from their bones.

"Dinnertime!" shouted the Master. He jumped from the ground, rising a good thirty feet in the air, then pounced on the men as they screamed.

The Doctor stood in the center of the junkyard where the TARDIS had led him, following the Master's life signature. He stood atop a large sand dune, his long coat flapping in the breeze. The Doctor took in a large breath through his nose. The Master was here. He looked out over the piles of garbage, scanning them with his acute brown eyes.

The Master licked the last traces of meat from his fingers, but then froze, catching the scent of something on the wind. Time Lord. His Time Lord. He pushed back his hood and took a deeper whiff.

With a smirk, he stood up. He scooped under a long, metal rod and marched over to a dented red metal barrel. He swung his arm back and struck the barrel with the rod four times. One, two, three, four.

The Doctor's ears pricked up as the sound echoed across the yard.

And again, one, two, three, four.

The Doctor took off running. The Master did too.

Good hunting, Doctor!

The Doctor raced across the compound, then skidded to a halt. A few yards away, a figure in black stood atop a pile of rocks.

The Master stared back at him. Then he opened his mouth and bellowed into the abyss unintelligibly. The Doctor watched, eyebrows knit in confusion.

The Master grinned, then made a great leap off the ground, bounding yards away.

The Doctor hurried again after him, pursuing him through piles and piles of trash. He caught up to him again when he found the Master standing atop a stack of steel girders. The Master laughed at him, his skin disappearing and reappearing to show his bones underneath.

The ruins at the prison, and his jumping powers. His face . There must have been a complication in the resurrection procedure—he's come back, but he's come back wrong!

"Please, let me help! You're burning up your own life force!" the Doctor cried.

The Master rolled his eyes at him, then grinned and raced away again, snickering like a Batman villain. The Doctor followed quickly.

"Oh my gosh, Doctor, you're a sight for sore eyes!" None other than Wilfred Mott popped up beside him, trying to pull him into a hug, but the Doctor pushed past, determined not to lose the other Time Lord. He could still hear him laughing in the distance. But when he pulled himself up to look over another stack of girders, the Master had disappeared.

Chapter 88: This Song Is Ending, Volume 4

Notes:

Chapter based on "The End Of Time, Part 1" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: December 25, 2009 (4/6).

Chapter Text

The Doctor's hearts sank as he lowered himself down from the stack of girders. If the Master would just listen…

He strode over to the excitedly chattering seniors. "It worked!" a short woman with snow white hair and a red coat was saying. "Because Wilf phoned Netty, who phoned June, and her sister lives opposite Broadfell, and she saw the police box, and her neighbor saw this man-!" The woman gestured happily to the Doctor." "-heading east."

"Wilfred?" said the Doctor, eyeing the group suspiciously.

"Yeah?" the little old man replied.

"Have you told them who I am?" the Doctor whispered, leaning toward him. "You promised me!"

"No, I just said you were a doctor, that's all," said Wilf. "And might I say, sir, it is an honor to see you again." He grinned and saluted.

"Oh, but you never said he was a looker," purred the woman in the red jacket. "He's gorgeous!" She shoved her camera into the hands of the fellow next to her. "Take a photo."

"Not bad, eh?" said the man now holding the camera. He smirked. "Me next." The seniors chuckled.

"I'm Minnie," said the woman in the red coat, looming closer to the Doctor's chest. "Minnie the Menace. It's a long time since I had a photo with a handsome man." She wrapped her arm around the Doctor's waist, and the others rushed to pose with him as well.

"Just get off him, leave him alone, will you?" sighed Wilf as they got ready to take the photo.

"Hush, you old misery," Minnie playfully chided him. "Come on, Doctor. Give us a smile, that's it."

Minnie reached up and pinched the Doctor's cheeks, and the Doctor reluctantly smiled for the camera (though it was more of a grimace).

"Hold on." The man with the camera snapped them. "Did it flash?"

"No, there's a blue light. Try again," Minnie directed.

"I'm all fingers and thumbs—"

"I'm really kind of busy, you know," the Doctor tried to say. Every second, the Master was getting further and further away...

"Oh, it won't take a tick," said Minnie. "Keep smiling."

Suddenly the Doctor felt a hand on his bottom. "Is that your HAND, Minnie?!" he yelped as the hand squeezed.

Minnie smiled innocently up at him. "Good boy." The hand playfully patted him.

The Doctor and the seniors loaded up on a minibus, which dropped the Doctor and Wilf off in front of a café. "Come on, then. Here we are, hurry up," Wilf called as he and the Doctor disembarked.

Minnie waved at the Doctor through the window and blew him a kiss.

"Bye," Wilf called to his friends. "You behave, bye…over here, come on." He led the Doctor into the café.

Wilf ordered them both mugs of hot chocolate, and they sat down at a booth, explaining how he had formed a group (not unlike LINDA) with his friends called the Silver Cloak, to keep an eye on when the Doctor popped back up in England. "…oh, we had some good times, didn't we though?" Wilf chuckled. "I mean, all those ATMOS things, and planets in the sky, and me with that paint gun." Then his watery eyes turned sad. "I keep seeing things, Doctor," he said fearfully. "This face, at night…"

The Doctor stared him. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm Wilfred Mott," Wilf answered confusedly.

"No," said the Doctor. "People have waited hundreds of years to find me, and then you manage it in a few hours."

Wilf shrugged. "Well, I'm just lucky, I suppose."

"No, we keep on meeting, Wilf. Over and over again, like something's still connecting us," the Doctor insisted.

"What's so important about me?"

"Exactly," the Doctor agreed. "Why you?"

The old Time Lord swallowed and looked out the front window of the restaurant. Londoners were walking past, laughing, chatting, going about their last minute Christmas shopping. Simple little human things.

"I'm going to die," the Doctor said bleakly.

"Well, so am I, one day," said Wilf.

"Don't you dare," the Doctor said with a sad smile.

Wilf guffawed at that. "All right, I'll try not to."

"But I was told," the Doctor continued. "He will knock four times. That was the prophecy. Knock four times, and then—"

"Yeah, but I thought, when I saw you before, you said your people could change, like, your whole body."

"I can still die," the Doctor explained. "If I'm killed before regeneration, then I'm dead." The Doctor took a deep breath. "Even then, even if I change, it feels like dying. Everything I am dies. Some new man goes sauntering away…and I'm dead."

Wilf gazed at him mournfully. Then his eyes were drawn to the view out the window. "What?" the Doctor said, following them. He spotted a familiar redhead standing in front of a car, searching her pocket for her keys.

The Doctor realized that Wilf had brought them here purposely.

"I'm sorry, but I had to," said Wilf, looking sadly at Donna. "Look, can't you make her better?"

"Stop it," the Doctor whispered.

"No, but you're so clever. Can't you bring her memory back? Look, just go to her now. Go on, just run across the street. Go up and say hello—"

"If she ever remembers me, her mind will burn, and she will die!" the Doctor stressed.

Both men looked out the window again. Donna was shouting at a meter maid. "Don't you touch this car!" the redhead snapped.

The Doctor and Wilf laughed together. "She's not changed," the Doctor sighed wistfully.

"Nah," agreed Wilf. "Oh, there he is…"

A tall man in a brown coat, carrying shopping bags, met Donna, and they began loading them into the car. "Shaun Temple," Wilf explained. "They're engaged. Getting married in the spring."

"Another wedding," commented the Doctor, recalling the Best Temp In Chiswick's bombastic first appearance in the TARDIS...

"Don't you see?!" the Doctor shouted. "You're the most important person in the universe to me!"

Both Sam and the Doctor froze in shock. And then Sam pushed forward, cupped the Doctor's face, and kissed him.

Finally, the Doctor internally sighed as he pressed his lips against the human's in return.

They kissed fervently for several blissful moments until Sam pulled back, terminating the kiss just as abruptly as he'd initiated it. His adorable face was bright red. "I'm sorry!" he squeaked.

The Doctor's mouth opened, and he struggled for something to say, but whatever he would've said, it was interrupted by a sharp noise of surprise. Both Time Lord and human turned their heads to a redheaded bride standing in the middle of the TARDIS, staring at them in as just as much shock as they felt at seeing her standing there.

"I'm sorry," the bride said dazedly. "Was I...interrupting something?"

The Doctor pushed that bittersweet memory back down. "Hold on, she's not going to be called Noble-Temple?" he asked. "That sounds like a tourist spot."

"No, it's Temple-Noble," Wilf replied.

"Right." The Doctor looked back at Donna, who was chatting with her husband-to-be, a hundred words per minute. "Is she happy? Is he nice?"

"Yeah, he's sweet enough," Wilfred said. "He's a bit of a dreamer. Mind you, he's on minimum wage, she's earning tuppence, so all they can afford is a tiny little flat. And then sometimes I see this look on her face, like she's so sad, but she can't remember why."

"She's got him," the Doctor stated.

"She's making do," Wilf corrected.

The Doctor shrugged. "Aren't we all."

"Yeah, how about you?" Wilf asked, tilting his head at him. "Who have you got now?"

"No one," the Doctor replied. "Traveling alone…I thought it was better. But I did some things. It went wrong. I need…"

The Doctor covered his face as he began to weep. He didn't know what he needed.

"Oh, my word," Wilf said tearfully. "I'm sorry."

The Doctor inhaled hard. "Merry Christmas," he said, laughing unsteadily.

"Yeah, and you," Wilf chuckled back.

"Look at us," the Doctor said, shaking his head. Two old men, drinking cocoa and crying on Christmas.

"But don't you see?" Wilf said. "You know, you need her, Doctor. I mean, look. Wouldn't she make you laugh again? Good old Donna?"

What did he need, the Doctor wondered to himself. Donna? No, she had her own life, and while she would always subconsciously miss the Doctor, she would be ultimately happy. Sam? No. The Master?…He didn't know.

Good Omega, he was lonely.

It was nighttime when the Doctor returned to the junkyard. He could still smell the Master on the air. He followed the scent until he founded the other Time Lord, hunkered over a pile of trash in his stolen black sweats. The Master's spine straightened as the Doctor approached. He stood up and whirled around, piercing the Doctor with his sharp hazel eyes.

The Doctor slowly, determinedly stepped toward him. The Master flexed his fingers, and they crackled with raw, white-hot archon energy. The Master balled his fists.

As the Doctor came closer, the Master thrust his right palm forward, sending a blast of energy past the Doctor, erupting the trash behind into flames. The Doctor didn't even flinch, completely focused on his target.

The Master's face flickered, briefly exposing his skull. He fired another blast from his left hand. Still, the Doctor was not deterred.

They were a mere ten feet apart. The Master rubbed his energized hands together, his jaw tight. The Master flashed both his hands at the Doctor, hitting him square in the chest with a double bolt of energy. The Doctor froze in his tracks, gritting his teeth. For a moment, it was a tense standoff between the two longtime enemies, to see who's will would surrender first.

The instant the Doctor's knees began to buckle, the Master shut off the blast, hopped off his pile of garbage, and rushed forward to catch the Doctor as he stumbled to the ground. They both fell to their knees.

Held up in his arms, the Doctor stared into the Master's eyes, breathing hard.

The Master glowered back for a moment, then his eyes turned downward. Curling his lip in self-disgust, he pushed the Doctor aside, standing back up. With a gasp, the Doctor flopped on his stomach onto the dusty ground.

The Master paced for a minute as the Doctor tried to catch his breath back. Then he squatted down, grimacing. The Doctor looked up at him.

"I had estates," the Master growled, and the Doctor realized it was the first real words the Master had spoken to him since he'd died in his arms on the Valiant. "Do you remember my father's land back home?" The Master's harsh eyes seemed to soften nostalgically as they turned up toward the sky, up toward a planet, a home, that was no more. "Pastures of red grass, stretching far across the slopes of Mount Perdition. We used to run across those fields all day…calling up at the sky." The Master sat back, grunting wearily. He rolled his eyes. "Look at us now," he said mockingly.

Koschei laid Cassiopeia's collar and dog dish in the small hole he and Theta had dug, then covered them with the rust-colored dirt. He sullenly stood up and stood next to Theta, who touched his shoulder with concern. "I'm really sorry the experiment didn't work out, Kos."

Kos shrugged numbly. "It was just a dog. That's what my family says, anyway. They said it was just an animal, and I need to quit being an idiot."

"But she was your friend. You have a right to be sad," said Theta insistently.

"Yeah, well…" Kos turned his head to look at him. "I have a new friend now."

Even though Kos was still frowning, Theta could hear the smile in his voice. He squeezed his shoulder. "Yeah. You do. And you always will, Koschei."

"All that eloquence…but how many people have you killed?" the Doctor spat at him angrily.

The Master raised his head, his eyes widening, their pupils big and dark as they gazed upon the Doctor. "I am so hungry."

"Your resurrection went wrong. That energy…your body's ripped open. Now you're killing yourself."

"That human Christmas out there!" the Master hissed, as he hadn't even heard the other man. "They eat so much! All that roasting meat…cakes and red wine. Hot-fat-blood-food! Pots, plates of meat and flesh and grease and juice and baking, burnt, sticky hot skin! Hot, it's so hot!"

"Stop it," the Doctor whispered.

"Sliced, sliced, sliced!"

"Stop it."

"It's mine, it's mine, it's mine, to eatandeatandeat-!"

"STOP IT!" the Doctor exclaimed.

The Master fell silent, clutching chunks of his ratty, fried hair. He was shaking. The Doctor felt a pang of pity for this wretched creature before him. Whether or not the Doctor needed the Master, the Master needed him, that was for sure. He was sick. And well, what was a Doctor for if not to heal people?

"What if I ask you for help?" the Doctor said, extending that tired old olive branch once again.

The Master looked back up, scoffing incredulously at the Doctor.

"There's more at work tonight than you and me," the Doctor continued.

"Oh yeah?" asked the Master amusedly.

"I've been told something is returning."

"And here I am." The Master brought his hand to the side of his head.

"No, something more," the Doctor said.

"But it hurts," the Master moaned, pressing at his head harder.

"I was told the end of time—"

"It hurts," whimpered the Master. "Doctor, the noise." He pointed at his temple. "The noise in my head, Doctor. Onetwothreefouronetwothreefour…stronger than ever before! Can't you hear it?!"

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said.

"Listen, listen, listen, listen," the Master whispered, wincing. "Every minute, every second…every beat of my hearts…there it is, calling to me." The Master stared at the Doctor pleadingly. "Please listen."

The Doctor shook his head sympathetically. "I can't hear it," he insisted.

The Master crawled across the ground toward him, until their faces were close that the Master's blonde bangs were brushing against the Doctor's gelled points of hair. "Listen," he whispered more intently.

The Doctor cautiously held still as the Master reached for him with shaking hands. They cupped his cheeks, his thumbs brushing over the Doctor's psi points at his temples. The Master gently pulled their foreheads together, and joined their minds.

The Doctor almost untensed as he felt that familiar psyche wash over and meld with his own. The Master's mind was so drastically different now from when he was a child, or young adult. But as dark, as worn, as deteriorated with madness as it was, it still felt warm and comforting to the Doctor, like slipping into one's bed after a long day, pulling over the blanket, and nestling one's head on the supple pillow. But the Doctor couldn't allow himself to relax into that psychic embrace. He kept up a mild shield, thin enough to let in the other Time Lord's thoughts, but solid enough to guard against any attacks.

And suddenly, the Doctor could hear something faint. As the Master drew him deeper into his mind, it grew louder and louder, deafeningly loud. A steady beat, of four repetitive counts. One two three four. One two three four.

The Doctor jerked backward, abruptly breaking the connection.

"What?" the Master said as the Doctor scuttled away from the Master.

The Doctor was in disbelief. "But…"

"What!" the Master barked.

It couldn't be possible. The drums couldn't be real. "I heard it," the Doctor said as the Time Lord rose to his feet. "But there's no noise. There never has been…it's just your insanity. What is it?" He stared up at the Master in horror. "What's inside your head?"

The Master began to crack up with laughter, his crazed eyes bulging. "It's real," he declared. "It's real. IT'S REAL!" He blasted off from the ground, propelled by the energy from his hands. The Doctor staggered to his feet and hurried after him.

The Master's laughter echoed overhead as the Doctor dashed across the yard. Then the Doctor skidded to a halt as the Master dropped back to the ground atop a pile of rubble several yards in front of him. "All these years, you thought I was mad!" the Master called. He raised a hand in victory. "King of the Wasteland! But something is calling me, Doctor. What is it, what is it?! What is it?!"

Suddenly, a bright searchlight appeared on the Master, illuminating him with a white aura—making him look like some kind of angel of the landfill. Then another one encircled the Doctor. The Doctor squinted into the blinding light as he looked up. A pair of helicopters had appeared overhead.

Suddenly two ropes dropped down beside the Master. A pair of men swathed all in black slid down them and grabbed the Master. "Ahh!" the Master cried out in surprise.

"No! Don't!" the Doctor yelled as the men in black jabbed the Master in the neck with some kind of tranquilizer. The Master passed out almost immediately.

"No!" The Doctor ran across the compound toward him, but other men who had dropped down from the helicopters fired their guns at the Doctor threateningly, forcing him to back off. The men in black hoisted the Master up into the helicopter. The Doctor, ducking the shots, ran up to the spot where the Master had been taken. He shouted desperately after the men. "Let him go!"

Suddenly, the Doctor felt a sharp sting in his back, and he flopped once again onto the ground. It must have been yet another tranq, because everything went black.

Chapter 89: This Song Is Ending, Volume 5

Notes:

Chapter based on "The End Of Time, Part 1" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: December 25, 2009 (5/6).

Chapter Text

When the Doctor awoke, a new morning was dawning, and there was no sign of the Master or the mysterious men in black. The Doctor tried to use the TARDIS to seek the Master out, but with his DNA corrupted and psychic signature frazzled as they were, it did no good. At the Doctor knew that the Master was still nearby. At his wit's end, the Doctor decided to take the TARDIS to the Mott/Noble house in Chiswick. The only person he could talk to right now was Wilf.

"I lost him," the Doctor rambled as the little old man crossed the street toward him. "I was unconscious. He's still on Earth, I can smell him, but he's too far away—"

"Listen, you can't park there!" Wilf hissed, pointing at the TARDIS. "What if Donna sees it?!"

"You're the only one, Wilf," the Doctor said, stepping closer to him. "The only connection I can think of. You're involved, if I could work out how. Tell me, have you seen anything? I don't know. Anything strange, anything odd?"

Wilf hesitated. "Well, there was a—"

"What?" the Doctor asked. "What is it, tell me!"

"Well, it was…" Wilf shook his head. "No, it's nothing."

"Think, think, think! Maybe something out of the blue, something connected to your life!" the Doctor urged. "Something!"

"Well, Donna was a bit strange. She had a funny little moment, this morning, all because of that book."

"What book?" the Doctor asked.

Wilf went back inside and retrieved a red and white book entitled Fighting The Future. There was a picture of a familiar man in a suit on the cover. "His name's Joshua Naismith."

"That's the man," said the Doctor, thinking back. "I was shown him by the Ood."

"By the what?"

"By the Ood."

"What's the Ood?"

"They're just the Ood. But it's all part of the convergence. Maybe…" The Doctor raised his head, staring off into the distance in deep thought. "It may be touching Donna's subconscious." A wide smile spread across his face. "Oh, she's still fighting for us, even now. The Doctor Donna."

"Dad, what are you up to-?" Sylvia said as she came outside. She froze as she caught sight of the Doctor. "You," she hissed. "But…get out of here!"

The Doctor nodded awkwardly. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas. But she can't see you!" Sylvia gasped. "What if she remembers?"

"Mum, where are those tweezers?" Donna called from inside.

"Go!" Sylvia panicked, waving a hand at the Doctor.

"I'm going," the Doctor said, heading through the gate back to the front of the house where the TARDIS was parked.

"Yeah, me too," said Wilf, following quickly after the Time Lord.

"Oh no, you don't!" Sylvia exclaimed, tailing after the both of them. "Dad, I'm warning you!"

"Bye, see you later!" Wilf called over his shoulder, shuffling away from her as fast as possible.

"Stay right where you are!"

"You can't come with me," the Doctor said, unlocking the TARDIS.

"You're not leaving me with her!" Wilf countered.

"Dad!"

The Doctor cringed. "Fair enough."

"Just you listen to me, I forbid it!" Sylvia yelped as the two men disappeared into the TARDIS. "Get out of there!" She stood in the street as the TARDIS dematerialized, seething. "Doctor, bring my father back right now!" Sylvia yelled. "Come back here! Come back here, I said! Come back!"

"Are you shouting at thin air?"

Sylvia turned to see her daughter standing in the driveway, staring at her in amusement. "Yes," sighed Sylvia. "Possibly, yes."

Meanwhile, in the TARDIS, the Doctor was dashing around the controls like a man possessed. "Naismith!" he shouted over the din of the engines. "If I can track him down…" Then he paused as he saw Wilf's bemused face, realizing this was the old man's first time actually inside the TARDIS. "Ah. Right. Yes. Bigger on the inside. Do you like it?"

"I thought it'd be cleaner," Wilf said.

"Cleaner?" said the Doctor in disbelief. He pointed a finger at Wilf. "I could take you back home right now!"

"Listen, Doctor, if this is a time machine, that man you're chasing, why can't you just pop back to yesterday and catch him?" Wilf questioned.

The Doctor bit his lip.

"Sam, hold on!" the Doctor cried.

Sam was trying with all his might to hold onto the lever. But he just wasn't strong enough. His fingers slipped, and he was sucked toward the Void.

"SAAAAAAAAAAM!" the Doctor screamed.

Suddenly the TARDIS materialized for just a split second in between the Void and Sam. The human went flying through the doors, and then the TARDIS disappeared as fast as it had reappeared.

The Void shrunk and vanished from existence. The Doctor fell to the floor, staring bewildered at the spot the TARDIS and Sam had just been. "Systems closed," announced the computer.

The room was silent, but the Doctor's mind was buzzing. I must have gone after him, the Doctor said. I must have saved him!

The Doctor jumped to his feet and raced to the TARDIS. There wasn't a moment to lose.

With some very careful piloting, the Doctor rigged the TARDIS to appear before the Void for just a moment, just long enough to catch Sam. The Doctor threw open the door, stood on the catwalk, and opened his arms.

Whump . Sam crashed into his arms, knocking them both to the floor. The Doctor hugged him intensely, afraid to let go.

He'd almost lost him. He'd almost this human that he…that he loved.

"Doctor?" the Doctor heard Sam whisper.

"Yes," the Doctor choked, hugging Sam slightly closer.

"What did you do?"

"I flew the TARDIS in between you and the portal so that you would fly in here instead of into the Void." The Doctor ran his thumb along Sam's jaw, just to make sure Sam was real. His hearts felt like they were beating a thousand times per second.

The Doctor felt Sam cautiously cover the Doctor's other hand, settled over the human's singular heart. "But you're still out there," he said.

"Yes. And by now the Void has closed, and I'm running to my TARDIS to catch you. And here we are."

The Doctor knew the risks he'd run by crossing his own timeline, but he didn't care. Sam was safe. That was all that mattered.

Sam rolled over to stare the Doctor in the eye. Their faces were mere inches from each other. "You could've died," Sam said. "You could've been sucked in too. The TARDIS is carrying as much cross-dimensional residue as I am, if not more."

"Well, the point is, I wasn't," the Doctor said, frowning.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?!"

"I was saving you!"

"I'm not worth it!"

"Don't be stupid."

"You are infinitely more important than some insignificant human being!" Sam shouted. "You must never, ever risk your own life to save me. Do you understand? I don't matter ."

"Yes, you do !" the Doctor exclaimed angrily. "Don't you see? You're the most important person in the universe to me!"

Sam's mouth fell open in surprise. Then he surged forward and kissed him.

"I can't go back inside my own timeline," the Doctor explained. "I have to stay relative to the Master within the causal nexus. Understand?"

"Er, not a word," said Wilf.

The Doctor shook his hand. "Welcome aboard."

"Thank you."

Meanwhile, the other Time Lord was in less cordial company.

Joshua Naismith stared at the blonde alien bound to a dolly-type device with many straps and cords. Clearly he knew the Master wasn't to be trifled with. He pointed to the gag over the Master's mouth. "If you would, Mister Danes."

Danes stripped away the gag, and the Master flexed his jaw. "I'm starving," he growled.

"You've my daughter to thank for this." Naismith crossed the room to a slender young woman in a bright pink dress. He smiled at her adoringly. "It's all her idea. She heard rumors of Harold Saxon, his disciples, his return. It's the sort of thing she finds rather…thrilling."

"And I was right," said Abigail Naismith, almost quivering with excitement. "He's back. The very man we need, and he's here. Oh, this is going to be wonderful."

The Master smirked.

Naismith's men forced him into a straitjacket and lead him into another grand room of the Naismith mansion, where there were scientists busy at work and militia men standing around to look menacing. In the center of the room there was a large gate-like structure, glowing with green LEDs.

Naismith pointed to a couple of scientists. "Demonstrate."

The pair of them jumped into action, and the Gate began to spark with energy. "Oh, that's not from Earth," the Master said.

"And neither are you," Naismith countered. "A perfect combination, don't you think?"

"Er, excuse me, sir," said one of the scientists, Rossiter. "If I could check the basement? We're getting fluctuation on the power cords."

"Of course."

"Miss Addams, if you could bring the calibration statistics," said Rossiter to his fellow scientist, and the two scurried out of the room.

Naismith gestured to a chair at a table. "Won't you sit?"

The Master scoffed, gingerly taking a seat. "Not like I have much of a choice. Are there biscuits? Crumpets? Anything? It's got to be rounding tea time, and I know how you Brits love your nibblies at tea."

Naismith ignored him as he sat across from the Master, his daughter at his flank. "The Gate was found inside a spaceship, buried at the foot of Mount Snowden," he explained. "It was moved to an institute known as Torchwood. But when Torchwood fell…" Naismith smiled cunningly. "Let's just say I acquired it."

The Master smirked too. "I like you."

"Thank you."

"You'd taste great."

Naismith's face fell. "Mister Danes?" he said, rising from his chair and putting space between himself and the ravenous Time Lord.

"The visitor will be given food," Danes ordered.

A pair of servants shuffled in, bringing with them a covered dish. The cover was removed and underneath it was a whole, golden tan roast chicken on a bed of parsley.

The Master's mouth fell open at the sight of it. Before the servants even had to time to put down cutlery or a napkin, the Master seized the chicken and ripped it apart with his bare hands, shoving mouthful into his gullet as fast as he possibly could. The bird was picked clean in minutes, with only its bones left on the platter.

"Anyway," said Naismith, he and his people only mildly fazed by the Master's voracious display. "The device came equipped with its own power supply. A Nuclear Bolt." Naismith gestured to a pair of clear glass booths with a control station inside each. The man in the left booth was locked in. Another scientist entered the right booth, pressed a button, and his door became sealed. At the same time, the left booth unlocked, and the man inside walked out.

"One technician remains in charge of the feedback twenty four hours a day, and the power feeds through to the Gate, where it encourages some sort of cellular regeneration," Naismith explained. "Miss Collins was our test subject." A woman at a computer turned at the sound of her name and approached. "She carried some burns as a result of an accident when she was a child, down her left side. If you could?"

Miss Collins pushed up the sleeve of her lab coat showed the Master her pale, unmarked arm. There was no evidence that she'd been a burn victim ever in her life.

"The Gate mended her," Naismith concluded.

"But what do you want it for?" the Master inquired.

"We calculate that if this device can be fully repaired by your good self, it can restore the body forever. Hence its given title: the Immortality Gate. Because that's what I want. Not for me, but for my daughter." Naismith turned to her and placed his thumb under her chin, gently tipping her face upward. "I want her never to die. My gift to her. She will be immortal."

"Abigail," said the girl. "It means bringer of joy."

Suddenly the Master caught a whiff of something on the air. Archon energy. Time. Honey.

The Doctor.

The Master swiveled toward his computer and cracked his knuckles. "Better get to work."

Chapter 90: This Song Is Ending, Volume 6

Notes:

Chapter based on "The End Of Time, Part 1" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: December 25, 2009 (6/6).

Chapter Text

"We've moved," gasped Wilf as he and the Doctor exited the TARDIS, which had emerged in…a stable? Well, rich humans did seem to like their horses. "We've really moved!"

"You should stay here," the Doctor advised.

Wilf scoffed. "Not bloody likely."

"And don't swear! Hold on." The Doctor pointed the TARDIS key at the box and pressed a button. Instead of going off like a car lock, the TARDIS flickered out of sight. "Just a second out of sync. Don't want the Master finding the TARDIS. That's the last thing we need."

The Doctor and Wilf crept out of the stables and across the ground, ducking out of sight from heavily armed patrolmen. "That book said he's a billionaire," Wilf muttered to the Doctor. "He's got his own private army."

The Doctor looked around and spotted a tiny service entrance, half as tall as a man. "Down here." He sonicked the small door open and beckoned for the old human to follow him.

They heard voices and followed the sound trail. They crept through the corridors of the basement, and passed the room with the Immortality Gate. The Doctor raised his eyebrow at it, but Wilf tugged at his sleeve and pointed into the room across from it, where there was a blonde woman in a lab coat rushing around a computer system, talking to someone on a intercom. "…the fiber links intensified, and the multiple overshots have triplicated," she was saying.

"Nice Gate," said the Doctor, popping his head in.

"Hello. Sorry," said Wilf with a meek wave.

"Don't try calling security, or I'll tell them you're wearing a shimmer," said the Doctor, jaunting into the room. "Because I reckon anyone wearing a shimmer doesn't want the shimmer to be noticed, or they wouldn't need a shimmer in the first place.

Addams played dumb. "I'm sorry? What's a shimmer?" she asked.

The Doctor pointed his screwdriver at her and pressed the button. "Shimmah," he sing-songed.

Addams's whole appearance distorted, and suddenly her blonde hair was gone, replaced by spike, and her skin was bright green.

"Ugh," groaned Addams.

"Oh, my Lord," gasped Wilf. "She's a cactus."

"Miss Addams?" Rossiter was saying into his comm in the other room. His partner in crime wasn't responding. "Miss Addams?" He looked up at Naismith. "If you'll just excuse me." He hurried from the room.

Naismith turned his attention to his "guest." "Now, please don't imagine I'm a slave driver. We can resume work on Boxing Day, Mister Saxon," he said.

The disheveled former Prime Minister looked up and smirked. "My name is…the Master," he informed them.

He punched ENTER on his keyboard.

Suddenly the lights in the room dimmed, and the Gate came on, sparking with energy. "Oh, excellent," gasped Naismith. "Excellent!…Mister Danes?"

"The visitor will be restrained," the head of staff ordered Naismith's goons.

"What?" the Master said. "But I repaired it."

"I'm not an idiot," Naismith declared. He gazed back at the buzzing Gate. "Don't let him anywhere near that thing." He hugged his daughter close to him and chuckled darkly.

Danes and the staff forced the Master back into his straitjacket. "Your reputation precedes you, sir," said Naismith to the Master as Danes secured the straps. "I have no doubt you've laid traps. Perhaps explosives. A means of escape, or murder. But everything you've done to the Gate will be checked and double-checked before anyone stands inside."

The Master just smiled.

Back in the other room, the Doctor was studying Addams's monitors, watching the Gate come on-line. "He's got it working, but what is it? What's working?"

At that moment, Rossiter hustled in. "What are you doing here?" he said, spotting the Doctor.

Without so much as a cursory glance, the Doctor pointed his screwdriver at the man. "Shimmerrrrr!" he bellowed.

Rossiter turned green and spiky like his counterpart. He blinked nervously.

"Now, tell me quickly, what's going on?" said the Doctor, turning to him. "The Master, Harold Saxon, Skeletor, whatever you're calling him—what's he doing up there?"

"What do you mean? He's fixed the Gate," said Addams.

"Oh no," the Doctor said, checking over the screens. "The Master doesn't do anything out of the goodness of his hearts. He's up to something."

"But I checked the readings. He's done good work. It's operational," Rossiter argued.

"Who are you, though?" the Doctor asked, turning back around and studying the green aliens. He thought back to Bannakaffalatta on the Titanic. "I met someone like you. He was brilliant, but he was little and red."

"No, that's a Zocci," Addams said, rolling her eyes.

"We're not Zocci, we're Vinvocci," added Rossiter huffily. "Completely different."

"And the Gate is Vinvocci. We're a salvage team. We picked up the signal when the humans reactivated it," Addams reported. "And as soon as it's working, we can transport it to the ship."

"But what does it do?" the Doctor inquired.

"Well, it mends," explained Rossiter. "It's a simple as that. It's a medical device to repair the body. It makes people better."

Well, that might explain why the Master was interested in it; he could fix his glitch and get stabilized…but if the Doctor had learned anything about this regeneration, it was that he had very little sense of self-preservation. The Master would gleefully go down in flames if it meant he could drag the universe into the inferno with him. "No, there's got to be more," the Doctor said. "Every single warning says the Master's going to do something colossal."

"So that thing's like a sickbed, yes?" Wilf inferred, pointing into the room with the large version of the Gate that was in the room with the Master and Naismith.

"More or less," Addams replied.

"Well, pardon me for asking, but why is it so big?"

"Oh, good question. Why's it so big?" the Doctor repeated.

"It doesn't just mend one person at a time," Addams said, laughing derisively.

"That would be ridiculous," Rossiter chimed in.

"It mends whole planets," explained Addams.

The Doctor froze. "It does what?" he asked quietly.

"It transmits the medical template across the entire population," Addams said.

The Doctor took off running. He had to find the Master. Had to stop him.

"But it's time for the broadcast," said Naismith, strolling over to the television and switching it on. "The President's grand initiative. You might want to see this, sir. Proof that the human race can mend its own problems."

"And now, anticipation is rising as we go live to Washington," said the cheery news anchor. "Here, on Christmas Day, the President has promised an instant and radical solution to the worldwide depression. Barack Obama will lead us all into a new age of prosperity."

"Turn the Gate off right now!" the Doctor shrieked, bursting into the room.

"At arms!" ordered Danes.

The soldiers aimed their weapons at the Doctor, and the Master began giggling. "No, no, no, no, no, whatever you do, just don't let him near that device!" the Doctor babbled.

"Oh, like that was ever going to happen," the Master announced loudly. Then, with a flash of blue energy, he tore off the jacket and tossed it to the ground. Then he used another great burst of energy to propel himself across the room—right into the crosshairs of the Immortality Gate.

The Master turned back around and looked at them all. "Homeless, was I? Destitute and dying?" The Master raised both arms. "Well, look at me now!"

"Deactivate it. All of you, turn the whole thing off!" the Doctor shouted helplessly at the humans around him. The Master laughed maniacally.

Naismith clenched his eyes shut and shook his head slightly. "He's…inside my head." Abigail and the others began to shake their heads too.

The Doctor whipped around and tried to run toward the Master. "Get out of there!"

The Master fired a bolt of energy that knocked the Doctor off his feet.

"Doctor!" squeaked Wilf, stumbling into the room through the same passage the Doctor had entered through. "Doctor, there's-there's this face…"

"What is it? What can you see?" the Doctor said, shakily getting up as the old man approached.

"Well, it's…him," said Wilf, staring at the Master. "I can see him."

"There's something wrong," said the news anchor on the TV. "It seems to be affecting the President…"

The Doctor hurried over to a computer and tapped at the keyboard frantically. "I can't turn it off!"

"That's because I locked it, idiot," sneered the Master.

"Wilfred!" The Doctor grabbed the old man's arm and tugged him over to the Vinvocci booth, where there was a scientist stuck inside. "Get inside. Get him out." The Doctor hurried into the other booth and hit the locking mechanism, locking himself inside and opening the other booth. Wilf pulled the disoriented scientist out and traded places with him. "Just need to filter the levels," said the Doctor, working the controls.

"Oh!" cried Wilf. "I can see again! He's gone!"

"Radiation shielding. Now press the button, let me out!"

"You what?"

"I can't get out until you press the button," the Doctor explained quickly. He pointed through the glass. "That button there!"

Wilf quickly unlocked the Doctor's booth, unlocking his own. The Doctor jumped out of the booth and looked back at the Master. "Fifty seconds and counting," said the mad Time Lord.

"To what?!" the Doctor shouted.

The Master chortled at him. "Oh, you're going to love this."

Suddenly, Wilf's cell phone rang. Wilf searched his pockets for it, first pulling his old revolver out by mistake, then the phone. "Hello?" he said, putting it his ear. "Oh, God. Donna?"

"Where are you?" Donna asked, sounding fearful. "It's Mum and Shaun. Something's wrong with them."

"But wait a minute! I mean, what about you?" Wilf said. "Can't you see anything?"

"I can see them…that's bad enough!"

"What is it, hypnotism?" the Doctor demanded, running about the room like a chicken with its head cut off, desperate for something, anything to stop the Master's plot in its tracks. "Mind control! You're grafting your thoughts inside them, is that it?"

"Oh, that's way too easy," the Master replied, almost calmly. "No, no, no. They're not going to think like me..they're going to become me."

The Master lifted his arms. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand…zero!"

Suddenly a wave of energy emanated from the Gate, and swept over the whole room, the whole Naismith property, the whole isle of Britain…the whole planet.

Suddenly, the Master began shaking his head rapidly back and forth. So did everyone in the room, apart the Doctor and Wilf, vibrating as their DNA was overwritten with the Master's. The Doctor watched in horror as nearly everyone around him began changing. The Master cackled loudly. "You can't have!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"But they've changed," Donna gasped over the phone. "Granddad, it's Sa—I mean—no, it's not him—it's happened before…my head. Oh, my head! Oh, my head!"

"Doctor!" Wilf cried through the glass. "She's starting to remember!" He glared at the Master, still standing in the Gate. "What is it?! What have you done, you monster?!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you talking to me?" said the Master.

Joshua Naismith—or rather, the person who'd once been Joshua Naismith—stood up from where he'd fallen onto the floor. He now had pale skin, ratty blonde hair, and manically gleaming eyes. "Or to me?" asked the Naismith Master.

A Master in a pretty pink dress popped up beside him. "Or to me?"

"Or to me?" asked the Master that had just been Danes.

The security team lifted the masks of their helmets to reveal a whole platoon of Masters. They grinned at Wilf. "Or to us?" they asked in unison.

"Breaking news," announced the Master on the telly in place of the news anchor. "I'm everyone. And everyone in the world…is me!"

The TV cut to President Obama in America. Or rather, who used to be Obama. "I'm President!" exclaimed the Master. "President of the United States. Look at me!"

"The human race was always your favorite, Doctor," said the original Master, stepping out of the Gate and striding across the room to stand with his clones. "But now, there is no human race. There is only…the Master race!" He led his copies in a chorus of maniacal laughter, as the Doctor could only look on in horror.

Chapter 91: This Song Is Ending, Volume 7

Notes:

Chapter based on "The End of Time" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: January 1, 2010. (1/4)
Contains scenes from Colony In Space by Malcolm Hulke, original air date: April 10, 1971.

Chapter Text

"Well, where is this super weapon of yours?" the Third Doctor asked the Master, who had his TCE pointed at his back. They had just entered a room full of machinery in the underground catacombs of the planet Uxarieus.

The Master smiled proudly. "We're in the heart of it. It stretches for miles all round us. Look, let me try and explain how it works." The Master stepped over to a computer console and laid out his map. He studied it for a moment, then said, "Yes." He pressed a button on the console, and a picture of the galaxy appeared. It zoomed in on a certain star. "Look! That, Doctor, is the sun that gives life to the planet Earth that you hold in such affection."

"I do know a little basic astronomy," said the Doctor sardonically.

"Then you will know that one day that sun will burn through to its core and explode."

"In about ten thousand million years' time, yes."

"Well, with this weapon, I could make that happen now," the Master informed him.

"That's unbelievable!" the Doctor balked.

"You know the Crab Nebula?"

"The cloud of cosmic matter that was once a sun? Of course."

"That was the result of the super race testing this weapon."

"So, you intend to hold the universe to ransom," the Doctor inferred.

The Master came out from behind the console and slowly approached him. "Doctor…why don't you come in with me? We're both Time Lords, we're both renegades. We could be masters of the galaxy! Think of it, Doctor, absolute power! Power for good. Why, you could reign benevolently, you could end wars, suffering, disease. We could save the universe."

The Doctor hesitated. The vision the Master had…it was so tempting. To rid the universe of its woes. It was as tempting as the prospect of working with his old friend again.

But he knew it was an offer to good to be true, and the Master couldn't be trusted. "No," he declared. "Absolute power is evil."

"Consider carefully, Doctor," the Master insisted. "I'm offering you a half-share in the universe. You must see reason."

"No, I will not join you in your absurd dreams of a galactic conquest!"

"Why?" the Master hissed, smacking his TCE against his gloved palm. He walked away from the Doctor, then turned back. "Why?!" he exclaimed again. "Look at this." He gestured to the screen. "Look at all those planetary systems, Doctor. We could rule them all!"

"What for? What is the point?" the Doctor inquired.

"The point is that one must rule or serve! That's a basic law of life," the Master exclaimed. "Why do you hesitate, Doctor? Surely it's not loyalty to the Time Lords, who exiled you on one insignificant planet?"

"You'll never understand, will you?" the Doctor said. "I want to see the universe, not rule it!"

The Master raised his TCE. "Then I'm very sorry, Doctor..."

"Put them back!" the Doctor demanded as a couple of Masters grabbed him by the shoulders and wrists. Two others grabbed Wilf too once they had gotten him out of the Vinvocci booth. "This is not the way to get my attention!"

The original Master laughed scoffingly as his clones wrestled with the other Time Lord. "You're really so conceited that you think this is all about you? Despite what all your admirers tell you, Doctor, you're not actually the center of the universe."

"Oh come on. I know you're not the biggest fan of the human race, but you just happened to pick the one planet I visit and protect the most to conquer?"

The Master scowled. "I'm a little tired of all his yap. Put a sock in it, boys. In Naismith's study. I don't want him distracting my scientists. And bring the old man too."

The other Masters snickered and tugged the Doctor into the study and wheeled in the upright strap-chair that Naismith had been keeping the Master in, Hannibal Lecter style. The Doctor stared the real Master down as he was forced into it. "You can't keep dancing around this forever," he declared.

The Master smirked, but there was a certain misery in his eyes. "All we've ever done is dance," he said.

The clones tied Wilf with rope to a wooden chair and bolstered the Doctor down with the straps on the…bondage chair (it really was the most appropriate name for it) and Velcro-ed the gag over his mouth. The Master leaned in close to his face to whisper in his ear: "Now then. I've got a planet to run."

He turned to his commscreen. "Is everyone ready?" he asked the Master onscreen, the one who had previously been Joshua Naismith.

"6,727,949,338 versions of us awaiting orders," the Naismith Master reported.

"This is Washington," chimed in the one who was formerly Barack Obama. "As President of the United States, I can transfer all the United Nations protocols to you immediately, putting you in charge of all the Earth's defenses."

"UNIT HQ, Geneva reporting. All under your command, sir."

"And this is the Central Military Commission here in Beijing, sir, with over two point five million soldiers, sir. Present arms!"

The Master winked at Wilfred, gleeful at the old human's horror at his planet being perverted in such a way. "Enough soldiers and weapons to turn this planet into a warship," the wicked Time Lord said triumphantly. He looked over at his old nemesis. "Nothing to say, Doctor?"

The Doctor glared back silently. It was just like their days on the Valiant, only less flying snow globes.

"What's that?" the Master said mockingly, leaning closer. "Pardon? Sorry?"

"You let 'im go, you swine!" Wilf called heatedly.

"Oh, your dad's still kicking up a fuss," snorted the Master.

"Yeah? Well, I'd be proud if I was!"

The Master put a finger to his lips. "Hush, now. Listen to your Master."

Suddenly there came a high-pitched ringing from Wilf's coat. The Master looked from him to the Doctor in confusion. "B-but that's a mobile," he said.

"Yeah, it's mine," Wilf said. "Let me turn it off-"

"No, no, no, no, no. I don't think you understand," the Master said. "Everybody on this planet is me. And I'm not phoning you, so who the hell is that?!" He began furiously rifling through Wilf's pockets.

"It's nobody. I tell you, it's nothing. It's probably one of them ring-back calls!" Wilf squeaked.

"Ooh, and look at this," the Master said, unearthing Wilf's gun. "Good man!" He tossed it on the floor and pulled out the phone. He read the Caller ID and his eyes widened. "Donna? No. Not…the Donna?"

The Doctor's eyes widened.

"Just leave 'er alone!" Wilf cried as the Master opened the phone and put it to his ear.

"Gramps, don't hang up. You've got to help me!" Donna said over the phone. "I ran out, but everyone was changing!"

"Donna, it's me!" the Master suddenly said in a bright, warm voice with a Cockney edge, and the Doctor's stomach dropped. No, no, no, no, no, no, no…

The Master grinned maliciously at him. "It's Sam!"

The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut, as if that could block out the sound of his lost love's voice.

"Sam? Sam who?"

"Sam Tyler!" the Master continued. "Don't you remember when you disappeared from your wedding, and you appeared in the TARDIS with me an' the Doctor? We fought a giant spider together?"

"I…I don't…oh!" Donna inhaled sharply. The Master's words were obviously dragging up forgotten memories.

"Don't listen to him, Donna!" Wilf tried to shout, but the Master carried the phone away from him and walked toward the Doctor.

"We got along so well together, Donna, remember?" the Master continued. "And you kept saying I was in love with the Doctor. Well guess what, old girl? You were right." He stared right into the Doctor's eyes. "Sam Tyler was desperately in love with the Doctor. A midgefly in love with a god. Can you imagine? Luckily for him, the Doctor likes playing with you Earthlings."

The Doctor silently gazed back, his brown eyes haunted with grief.

"Look, whoever you are, I just want to speak to my grandfather. Is he there?"

"Oh, he's here alright, Donna," the Master chuckled, looking over his shoulder at Wilf. "And you're never gonna see him again. Or anyone else for that matter. No one except me." He looked at his commscreen and said to the Naismith Master, "Find her. Trace the call." Then the Master looked at Wilf and turned on the speakerphone. "Say goodbye to the freak, Granddad."

"Donna, get out of there, just get out of there!" Wilf cried across the room. "I'm telling you, run!"

"Yes indeed, Miss Runaway Bride—run for your life. Not that it'll do you any good!" the Master cackled.

"She's on Wessex Lane, Chiswick," the Naismith Master reported. "Open the phone lines. Everyone on Wessex Lane. Red alert."

"What do I do?" Donna said in a panicked tone.

"Run, sweetheart, that's all. Run for your life!" Wilf shouted again.

"Let's listen to her die!" said the Master gleefully. He looked at the Doctor. "So why didn't she change, hm? Whatever did you do to that poor girl? I am assuming this was your doing. It always is."

"It was a while back. These pepper pots on wheels whisked the Earth away," Wilf said, seething at the Master. "But Donna stopped 'em. She saved everyone. But she had to have her memory wiped. The Doctor called it a…Medicrisis or somethin'."

"A Metacrisis?" The Master raised his eyebrows at the other Time Lord. "Oh Doctor, you can never criticize me for perverting the laws of nature again."

"There's more of them," Donna gasped.

"Donna? What's happening? Are you still there?"

"They're everywhere!"

"Look, I'm telling you to run, Donna!"

"This is better than Teletubbies," the Master giggled.

"It's not just them. I can see those things again—those creatures…why can I see a giant wasp? And it hurts. My head. It keeps getting hotter, and hotter, and hotter, and hotter, and HOTTER-!"

Suddenly there was a hard gasp, then a clunk, then silence.

"Donna? What was that?" Wilf said. "Donna? Donna, are you there? Donna!"

The Master frowned, knowing something was wrong. He glared at the Doctor.

The Doctor was beaming smugly through his gag. He winked.

With a growl, the Master marched back over to the Doctor and ripped the gag off.

"Ahh, that's better, hello." The Doctor looked up at the Master. "But really, did you think I'd leave my best friend without a defense mechanism?" He quirked his eyebrows.

"Doctor? What happened?" Wilf said.

"She's all right," said the Doctor soothingly. "She's fine, I promise. She'll just sleep."

The Master decided that he was sick of surprises. He bent toward the Doctor's face. "Tell me," he whispered, leering menacingly. "…where's your TARDIS?"

The Doctor stared back at him. "You could be so wonderful," he said softly.

"Where is it?"

"You're a genius. You're stone cold brilliant, you are. I swear, you really are."

The Master nodded. Finally, something they agreed on.

"But you could be so much more. You could be beautiful." The Doctor looked at him with such longing. "I see it now. I didn't want to see it before. You think I fell in love with Sam Tyler. You're wrong. I fell for you. Sam is you. He's a part of you that you haven't let out…in a very long time. And I miss that part."

The Master scoffed.

"But I missed this part too, as much as I didn't want to admit it," the Doctor said. "With a mind like that, we could travel the stars. It would be my honor…because you don't need to own the universe, just see it. To have the privilege of seeing the whole of time and space…that's ownership enough."

The Master stared back at him, almost as if his offer was too good to be true. After all, the Doctor had said they would travel together before. Once, when Axos had invaded the Earth, and then of course when they were young, and everything was so much simpler.

The Master swallowed. "Would it stop, then?" he murmured. "The noise in my head?"

"I can help," the Doctor offered earnestly.

"I don't know what I'd be without that noise," the Master admitted.

"I wonder what I'd be, without you," the Doctor replied.

The Master smiled softly, in spite of himself. "…yeah."

"What does he mean?" Wilf called from across the room, reminding the two Time Lords that they were not alone. "What noise?"

The Master stepped away from the Doctor and sat down. "It began on Gallifrey, as children. Not that you'd call it childhood," he scoffed. "More a life of duty. Eight years old. I was taken for initiation, to stare into the Untempered Schism."

"What does that mean?"

"It's a gap in the fabric of reality," supplied the Doctor. He and the Master shared a look of understanding. "You can see into the Time Vortex itself…and it hurts."

"They took me there in the dark," the Master continued. "I looked into time, old man, and I heard it calling to me. Drums. The never-ending drums." The Master closed his eyes. "Listen to it…listen."

"Then let's find it," the Doctor said. "You and me."

The Master's eyes widened. He looked off into the distance. "Except…oh. Oh, wait a minute." He got to his feet. "Oh, yes. Ohhh, that's good."

"What? What is?" the Doctor asked.

"The noise exists within my head, and now within six billion heads." The Master began to laugh. "Everyone on Earth can hear it. Imagine. Oh. Oh, yes!" He raised his arms as he laughed, and his skull flashed through his skin again. The Master gasped and curled in on himself.

"The Gate wasn't enough. You're still dying," the Doctor said.

"This body was born out of death, all it can do is die. But what did you say to me, back in the wasteland? You said the end of time."

"I said something is returning. I was shown a prophecy. That's why I need your help."

"What if I'm part of it? Don't you see? The drumbeat is calling from so far away. From the end of time itself. And now it's been amplified six billion times. Triangulate all those signals. I could find its source. Oh, Doctor. That's what your prophecy was!" The Master beamed, holding out his arms. "Me!"

Suddenly he slapped the Doctor. "Where's the TARDIS?" he said, scowling.

"No. Just stop. Just think."

The Master pointed at one of his copies, a guard wearing a helmet. "Kill him," he ordered. The copy went over to where Wilf was tied to a chair with a large gun. "I need that technology, Doctor. Tell me where it is, or the old man is dead."

"Don't tell him," Wilf exclaimed.

"I'LL KILL HIM RIGHT NOW!" the Master roared.

"Actually, the most impressive thing about you is that after all this time, you're still bone dead stupid," the Doctor said.

The Master cracked his neck. "Take aim."

"You've got six billion pairs of eyes, but you still can't see the obvious, can you?"

"Like what?" the Master asked, squinting in confusion.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "That guard is one inch too tall."

The guard butted the Master in the face with his gun, and the Master fell to the ground. Rossiter, the tall Vinvocci, took off his helmet and stared down at the unconscious Time Lord. "Oh my God, I hit him. I've never hit anyone in my life," he fretted.

The other Vinvocci, Addams, ran in. "Well, come on! We need to get out of here fast."

"God bless the cactuses!" cried Wilf as Rossiter untied him from the chair.

"That's cacti," the Doctor corrected.

"That's racist!" Rossiter fumed.

Chapter 92: This Song Is Ending, Volume 8

Notes:

Chapter based on "The End Of Time, Part 2" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: January 1, 2010 (2/4).

Chapter Text

The Vinvocci scientists helped the Doctor and Wilf to escape and beamed them up to their ship. The Vinvocci wanted to take off, but the Doctor blasted the ship's controls with his screwdriver, shutting the whole ship off irreversibly so they couldn't take off and abandon the Earth—and also so the Master's radar technology couldn't sense their presence in the atmosphere. They were stranded for the time being…until the Doctor could figure out their next move.

Wilf found the Doctor sitting alone before a big wide window with a prime view of the blue spheroid below, but his eyes was not on the vista, but rather some piece of machinery in his lap he seemed to be fixing. He was squinting at it hard through his spectacles. "Aye, aye," said Wilf cheerfully. "Got this old tub mended?"

"Just trying to fix the heating," the Doctor replied with a tired smile.

Wilf took a seat on the steps beside him, letting out an "oof". He gazed out the window at his planet. "Oh…" he sighed. "I've always dreamt of a view like that." He giggled, patting his knees. "I'm an astronaut!...It's dawn over England, look." He pointed to the British Isles, which looked remarkably small from up here. "Brand new day."

Wilf stared a moment longer, his smile fading and mist forming in his eyes. "My wife's buried down there," he remarked. "I might never visit her again now." He looked at the Doctor. "Do you think he changed them, in their graves?"

The Doctor stared back at him. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No, not your fault," said Wilf, turning away.

"Isn't it?" the Doctor asked in self-loathing. If it wasn't for him…how many times had the Master attacked Earth out of some misguided sense of vengefulness against the Doctor again?

Wilf pointed out a spot in the Middle East. "Oh, 1948, I was over there. End of the Mandate in Palestine. Private Mott. Skinny little idiot, I was. Stood on this rooftop, in the middle of a skirmish. It was like a blizzard, all them bullets in the air. The world gone mad…" He chuckled to himself and scratched his head. "Yeah, you don't want to listen to an old man's tales, do you?"

"I'm older than you," the Doctor admitted.

"Get away," scoffed the human.

"I'm 906." Or at least, that's the number I've settled on. Although I'm quite sure my 1000th birthday hit sometime during the Time War…I guess you lose track of these things over time.

"What, really, though?" Wilf said in amazement, staring at him with new eyes.

"Yeah."

"Nine hundred years…we must look like insects to you."

The Doctor studied the funny little human next to him. "I think you look like giants," he said.

Wilf took a deep breath and reached into his coat, pulling out his revolver. "Listen, I, I want you to have this. I've kept it all this time, and I thought-"

"No," the Doctor said quietly.

"No, but if you take it, you could-"

"No," the Doctor said again.

Wilf stared at the weapon in his hands.

"You had that gun in the mansion," the Doctor said. "You could have shot the Master there and then." He didn't bother to tell him that a gunshot wouldn't be enough to kill a Time Lord permanently—unless he was too proud and stubborn to regenerate, that is.

Wilf shrugged. "Too scared, I suppose." He looked ashamed of himself, that he didn't take the Master out when he had the chance.

"I'd be proud," said the Doctor.

"Of what?"

"If you were my dad."

Wilf sniffled, tearing up again. "Oh, come on, don't start…but you said, you were told he will knock four times and then you die. Well, that's him, isn't it? The Master. That noise in his head? The Master is going to kill you."

The Doctor nodded. "Yeah."

"Then kill him first," said Wilf, trying again to hand over his gun.

The Doctor didn't take it. "And that's how the Master started. It's not like I'm an innocent. I've taken lives. I got worse. I got clever. Manipulated people into taking their own. Sometimes I think a Time Lord lives too long." He looked at Wilf's gun. "I can't. I just can't."

"If the Master dies, what happens to all the people?" Wilf asked.

The Doctor's eyes darted away. "I don't know," he said.

"Doctor, what happens?" Wilf insisted.

"The template snaps," the Doctor admitted.

"What, they go back to being human? They're alive, and human."

"Yes, but…it's complicated. It's complicated," the Doctor said, looking at his knees.

"I know what it is…you and that man…you're in love."

The Doctor looked up at him in surprise.

"Oh, I may not be a Time Lord, but I've been around a while. I had a couple of friends in the army…Bert and Henry. They'd've died for each other. They'd've killed for each other. If the law hadn't gotten in their way…and they looked at each other the same way you and the Master do."

"He was my friend, once. He was good. I don't know what's happened, but I think something's been done to him, changed him. The drums he always talks about…something put them there. He's a victim too. And…I don't know if I'm strong enough to do it."

"But he's one man. There's billions of people down there. Don't you dare, sir. Don't you dare put him before them." He held out the revolver. "Now you take this—that's an order, Doctor. Take the gun. You take the gun and save your life-" Wilf's voice broke and tears began to roll down his ruddy cheeks. "And p-please don't die! You're the most wonderful man and I don't want you t-to die…"

The Doctor reached out and gripped his fist. "Never," he vowed.

Wilf sniffled again. Suddenly, a voice seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere spoke. "A star fell from the sky," said the Master. "Don't you want to know where from? Because now it makes sense, Doctor. The whole of my life. My destiny. The star was a diamond. And the diamond is a whitepoint star. And I have worked all night to sanctify that gift. Now the star is mine. I can increase the signal and use it as a lifeline. Do you get it now? Do you see? Keep watching, Doctor. This should be…spectacular…over and out."

The Doctor's hearts froze at the words "whitepoint star". No…no, it couldn't be. That would mean that…no, it couldn't be them. He'd locked them away for good!

"What's he on about?" Wilf asked. "What's he doing? Doctor, what does that mean?"

"A whitepoint star is only found on one planet," the Doctor said, shivering. "Gallifrey. Which means it's the Time Lords. The Time Lords are returning."

"Well, I mean, that's good, isn't it? I mean, that's your people!" Wilf asked.

The Doctor grabbed Wilf's revolver. He stared at the barrel of it for a moment, then sprung to his feet and raced from the room. He dashed through the corridors and burst into the flight deck. The ship was picking up a transmission, a succession of high-pitched beeps.

One two three four. One two three four. One two three four.

"What's that?" Addams said.

"Coming from Earth," reported Rossiter from his computer station. "It's on every single wavelength."

And in the Doctor's mind, he thought he heard victorious chanting: Gallifrey rises! Gallifrey rises! Gallifrey rises!

He had no time to lose. He dashed into action, grabbing gizmos and turning them on, trying to do something to stop this, anything.

"But you said your people were dead, past tense!" Wilf exclaimed.

"Inside the Time War, and the whole War was Timelocked!" the Doctor shouted. "Like, sealed inside a bubble. It's not a bubble but just think of a bubble. Nothing can get in or get out of the Timelock. Don't you see? Nothing can get in or get out, except something that was already there!"

"The signal!" Wilf said, catching on immediately. "Since he was a kid!"

"If they can follow the signal, they can escape before they die."

"Well, then, big reunion! We'll have a party!"

"There will be no party," the Doctor spat.

"But I've heard you talk about your people like they're wonderful," said Wilf in confusion.

"That's how I choose to remember them, the Time Lords of old. But then they went to war. An endless war, and it changed them right to the core. You've seen my enemies, Wilf. The Time Lords are more dangerous than any of them."

"Time Lords, what lords? Anyone want to explain?" Addams yelped.

"Right, yes, you!" the Doctor shouted, pointing at her. "This is a salvage ship, yes? You go trawling the asteroid fields for junk?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Addams replied.

"So, you've got asteroid lasers!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"Yeah, but they're all frazzled," Rossiter stated.

The Doctor threw a couple of levers and two bulkheads on either side of the front view window rolled open. "Consider them unfrazzled." The Doctor pointed again at Addams. "You there, what's your name? I'm going to need you on navigation." He pointed to Rossiter. "And you, get in the laser-pod. Wilfred."

"Yeah?" said the old man.

"Laser number two," the Doctor said, leaning forward. "The old soldier's got one more battle."

Wilf patted his shoulder and nodded firmly.

"This ship can't move. It's dead!" Addams protested as the Doctor stationed himself behind the flight controls.

He looked over his shoulder at her. "Fix the heating?" he said in a mocking tone. He threw two large switches forward, and the ship immediately hummed with power.

"But now they can see us!" Addams pointed out.

"Oh, yes!" shouted the Doctor.

"This is my ship, and you're not moving it. Step away from the wheel!" Addams exclaimed.

"There's an old Earth saying, Captain," the Doctor muttered. "A phrase of great power and wisdom, and consolation to the soul in times of need."

"What's that, then?" said Addams impatiently.

"Allons-y!"

The Doctor yanked the controls, and the spaceship zoomed toward the Earth. The ship's outer hull began to heat up and a wall of flames grew around the nose as they plummeted faster and faster toward the surface. "Come on!" growled the Doctor through gritted teeth.

"You are blinking, flipping mad!" Addams shouted at him.

The Doctor looked over his shoulder at Wilf and Rossiter. "You two, what did I say? Lasers!"

"What for?" inquired Rossiter.

"Because of the missiles—we've got to fight off an entire planet!"

Rossiter and Wilf jumped into the pods, and Addams manned the navigation. "We've got incoming!" she called as three missiles appeared on her radar.

"You two, open fire!" the Doctor screamed at the two other men. He jerked up on the controls, and the ship skimmed the ocean's surface. "Open fire! Come on, Wilf!"

One of Wilf's lasers took out one of the Master's missiles. "Woo!" cried Wilf. "Oh, I wish Donna could see me now!"

"And there's more," Addams announced as a fresh batch appeared onscreen. "Sixteen of them!" She threw up her hands sarcastically. "Oh, and another sixteen!"

"Then get on the rear gun lasers!" the Doctor cried. "You two, open fire! Now!"

Wilf and Rossiter continued to take out the missiles, swatting them like flies. The Doctor did a barrel roll, sending Addams flying. Then two missiles flew in front of the Doctor, in each other's flight paths. The Doctor just managed to duck underneath them, and they destroyed each other. The impact blew out the front view, and the Doctor's prickly hair blew wild in the salty breeze. They managed to take out every single one of the Master's little presents. "Lock the navigation!" the Doctor roared to Addams over the wind.

"Onto what?" gasped Addams, still panting from that roller coaster ride.

"England! The Naismith mansion!"

The ship soared for the British Isles. They flew over the water, and then, over grass-covered land. "Destination?" the Doctor called.

"Fifty kliks and closing," Addams reported. "We've locked on to the house. We are going to stop, though?...Doctor? We are going to stop?"

The Doctor didn't answer.

"Doctor?" said Wilf, having emerged from the laser pod. "Doctor, you said you were going to die."

"He said what?!" squawked Addams.

"But is that all of us?" Wilf asked. "I won't stop you, sir. But is this it?"

The house was in sight, and they were flying at breakneck speed toward it. Then, at the last moment, the Doctor pulled up the nose of the ship and they went soaring up into the atmosphere. The Doctor turned and open a hatch in the floor, cutting straight through the hull. He looked at Wilf, holding up his treasured revolver. Then…he fell through.

The Doctor hurtled through the sky in freefall, armed with nothing but Wilf's gun and his own recklessness. The domed glass skylight grew closer and closer and the Doctor braced himself for the impact.

His body burst through the glass and slammed to the marble floor, glass tinkling to the ground around him. It was a wonder he wasn't a bloody splat, much less that all his bones were intact.

And there they were—the Time Lords.

Five figures in ornate red and gold robes stood on the dais where the Immortality Gate had stood. As his vision resolved itself, he made out the one in the forefront—a man with grey hair and cold, manic blue eyes, holding a staff in one hand and wearing a silver gauntlet on the other. A man made god in the legends of the Time Lords.

Rassilon.

The Doctor raised Wilf's gun, his arms as solid as rope, and his hand shook as he pointed it at him, but he succumbed to his fatigue and collapsed.

"My Lord Doctor," said Rassilon in a voice like thunder. "My Lord Master. We are gathered for the end."

Chapter 93: This Song Is Ending, Volume 9

Notes:

Chapter based on "The End Of Time, Part 2" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: January 1, 2010 (3/4).

Chapter Text

The Doctor agonizingly pulling himself into a kneeling position. "Listen to me," he wheezed. You can't!

"It is a fitting paradox that our salvation comes at the hands of our most infamous child," chuckled Rassilon, looking at the Master.

"Oh, he's not saving you," said the Doctor. "Don't you realize what he's doing?"

"Hey, no, hey!" the Master barked. "That's mine!" He put a finger to his lips. "Hush." He looked up at Rassilon. "Look around you. I've transplanted myself into every single human being. But who wants a mongrel little species like them, because now I can transplant myself into every single Time Lord! Oh, yes, Mister President, sir, standing there all noble and resplendent, and decrepit. Think how much better you're going to look…as me!"

Rassilon raised his gauntlet-covered hand. The glove glowed blue, and suddenly, all the Master clones started rapidly shaking their heads again.

"No, no, don't!" The Master shouted, his gaze darting around to all the reverting clones. "No, no, stop it! No, no, no, don't!" He was helpless to stop all his work being undone.

Soon enough, all the humans were restored to their former selves. "On your knees, mankind," commanded Rassilon. The humans meekly obeyed him and sank to the ground.

"No, that's fine, that's good, because you said salvation!" The Master shouted. "I still saved you. Don't forget that!"

"The approach begins," murmured Rassilon.

"Approach of what?"

"Something is returning," said the Doctor through gritted teeth. "Don't you ever listen? That was the prophecy. Not someone, something."

"What is it?" the Master demanded.

"They're not just bringing back the species—it's Gallifrey," the Doctor declared. "Right here, right now!"

Sure enough, outside, in the sky, an orange planet five times the Earth's size began to flicker in and out of existence. Soon it would be corporeal, and would crush the little blue planet in its wake. The Earth began to shake, its gravity upset by the onset of the Time Lord planet. The scientists and soldiers began to run from the mansion in a panic.

"But I did this," cried the Master. "I get the credit! I'm on your side!"

"Doctor?!" Wilf had come skidding in. Dammit—the Doctor had thought he was safe on the Vinvocci ship.

"Help me, please!" cried a technician, still trapped in the Vinvocci booth. "Somebody, please!"

"Alright! I've got you, mate, I've got you," Wilf called, rushing over to release him.

"Wilf, don't, don't!" The Doctor yelled, but the old man wouldn't listen. The freed technician fled the room, and Wilf looked out at the Doctor through the glass.

"But this is fantastic, isn't it?" The Master asked the Doctor. "The Time Lords restored."

"You weren't there in the final days of the War," the Doctor replied. "You never saw what was born. But if the Timelock's broken, then everything's coming through. Not just the Daleks, but the Skaro Degradations, the Horde of Travesties, the Nightmare Child, the Could-have-been King with his army of Meanwhiles and Never-weres. The War turned into hell. And that's what you've opened, right above the Earth. Hell is descending!"

"My kind of world," said the Master with a wicked smile.

"Just listen! Because even the Time Lords can't survive that!" the Doctor cried.

"We will initiate the Final Sanction," said Rassilon. "The end of time will come at my hand! The rupture will continue until it rips the Time Vortex apart."

"That's suicide," said the Master.

"We will ascend to become creatures of consciousness alone. Free of these bodies, free of time, and cause and effect, while creation itself ceases to be."

"You see now?" the Doctor said to the Master. "That's what they were planning in the final days of the War. I had to stop them."

The Master swallowed. "Then, take me with you, Lord President. Let me ascend into glory."

Rassilon sneered at him. "You are diseased…albeit a disease of our own making. No more."

"But why?" the Doctor asked, feeling as though he was suddenly starting to see the pieces of a puzzle, but still unsure how to put them together. "Why him?"

"Oh, he wasn't special…just weak-minded," Rassilon scoffed. "When you were very young, we imbued you with them. The sound of a Time Lord's heartsbeat. This Time Lord, in fact." Rassilon pointed to the Doctor with his staff. "Tying you both together, to bring you to this moment and free us of our prison. They were triggered when we resurrected you for the Time War."

"That explains something that's been bothering me," the Doctor said. "The Master never had those drums before the Time War. Before that he was just regular crazy."

"Hey!" snapped the Master.

"So you went back in time and put them in his head to torture him," the Doctor continued angrily. "And for what purpose?"

"To forge him into our perfect warrior, of course," Rassilon replied. "But first, we had to cause a rift between him and his biggest weakness—you, Doctor."

"What the hell do you mean? You didn't cause anything," the Master declared. "He did, when he abandoned me for a hundred years! When he broke every promise he ever made to me!..." The Master's voice fell to a rough whisper. "When he broke my hearts."

"But I did that to save you!" the Doctor cried. "Koschei, I loved you! More than anything! But they said they'd kill you unless I stayed away. Drove you away."

"Who did?" said the Master, mystified. He looked at the High Council. "You mean...them?"

"Oh, Master...Master, Master, Master. Don't you see? We've been pawns." The Doctor's eyes welled up with tears as all the pieces finally came together. "From the very beginning, they've arranged this. Drove you mad with the drums...set you on the path to be evil by keeping us apart, making us enemies..."

"How?" the Master asked, mystified.

The Doctor took a deep breath. "It all began...the day I disappeared..."

"You haven't heard? Koschei…Theta Sigma stole a TARDIS and ran away."

Koschei stopped. His blood ran cold. "What? No. That can't be true."

"Sorry," shrugged Ushas. "It's what I know."

"NO!" shouted Koschei, quivering with anger. "You're lying! Thete wouldn't just…leave! He wouldn't leave…me."

"We promised to see the universe together," the Master said. "But you ran off without me," he accused, his voice full of poison.

"But that's just it! I didn't run off at all."

"I didn't escape!" objected Theta. "You don't understand. I woke up in that TARDIS, and was stranded in space-time for nearly four years!"

"Excuse me, 'woke up'?" asked the judge, raising a surreptitious eyebrow.

"A likely story! Why, I've never heard such a porous, pathetic excuse for a defense. I suppose you stole the TARDIS in your sleep?"

"I didn't steal the TARDIS, it stole me! "

"And then I was mysteriously given a pardon for 'stealing' the TARDIS, by Rassilon himself. Don't you see? They put me on it...they took me away from you, Kos. For hundreds of years, I had no idea how I ended up there...now I know. It was all a part of their plan."

"You betraying me somehow made me their puppet?" the Master scoffed.

"Yes," the Doctor responded somberly. "Because I was the most important thing to you in the whole universe. When you believed I'd abandoned you, it broke something inside you, and let in a darkness that you had been fighting all your life. Your family that didn't care about you, the children who bullied you at school...all you had was me. I imagine they knew that if we stuck together, you would've never given into that darkness."

The Master rolled his eyes. "Someone certainly has an overinflated sense of his own importance."

"But am I wrong? That's exactly what you did. All those years spent on trying to hurt me, make me pay for what I'd done."

"You're wrong," spat the Master. "I didn't 'break' when you left. I spent years searching for you, believing you were in trouble. I only turned away from you after you married that bitch from the house of Jacaria! Really showed how much you cared about me then, didn't you?"

"Master, I'm very sorry. But…I had to go. I had to be free."

"Free from what, exactly?" snapped the Master, shooting darts at Theta with his glare.

"Just…just free. I wouldn't expect you to understand," said Theta, looking away.

"Ah, I see," said the Master. "And now that you've had your taste of liberty, you've returned home for the quaint life of wedded bliss. My, Theta, you really have it all, don't you?"

"Stop it," whispered Theta.

"It killed me to break your hearts that day, Kos," the Doctor said mournfully. Then he looked up at a woman among Rassilon's entourage, glaring. "But my dear mother left me no choice."

The woman, draped in deep red like the rest of them, with short brown hair, pulled her hands down from her face.

Wilf gaped at her. "You're the one what kept contacting me! You're his mum?!"

"So that's why we met up again," the Doctor said. "Mum, you've been meddling…well, like mother, like son, I suppose."

The Master squinted at the woman. "Verity? I didn't even recognize you."

"Rassilon's underlings made me sign a contract with the house of Jacaria. They told me they'd kill my son if he didn't marry that woman," Verity said with a degree of regret.

"And they told me they'd kill you," the Doctor explained. "Believe me, Koschei, I wanted you. You were all I ever wanted. But they told me to stay away from you." The Doctor was fighting back tears. "I thought hurting you was the best way to keep you safe."

The Master, to his horror, discovered he was crying too. "Why didn't you just tell me then?!" he exclaimed.

The Doctor took in a shuddering breath. "I tried..."

"Please, wait," said the Third Doctor urgently. "Think before you fire that weapon. You don't really want to do this. I know what's truly in your hearts. I know, because it's in my hearts as well."

"Oh, do you?" said the Master, glaring him with unbridled hate. "Well, if you know what is in my hearts, then you would know that I swore that I would kill you. And unlike you, Theta," he said, spitting the name out, as if it tasted sour, "I never break a promise."

"...but it was too late. Koschei was gone."

"I would've never listened," the Master admitted.

"Rassilon manipulated all of us, Kos," the Doctor said. "And we turned you into a monster."

The Master stared at him. "That's why you always tell me that you forgive me, isn't it?"

"Yes," choked the Doctor. "Because it's my fault."

The Master swallowed. "No. It's not." He turned his head slowly, glaring heatedly at Rassilon. "It's his."

"You've served your purpose well, Lord Master," said Rassilon. "But now is the time that we shall ascend to glory, and leave this world behind as it crumbles."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," the Doctor said, getting shakily to his feet and pointing Wilf's gun straight at Rassilon.

Rassilon looked at the gun and laughed. "You do not kill. It is well known that you detest violence. The man who never would."

"Kill him, Thete," growled the Master. "He ruined our whole lives. Tear down everything they are."

"You have one bullet, Doctor. One chance to stop the inevitable," said Rassilon with a manic leer. "Are you sure it is I you want to kill?"

The Doctor looked at the gun, lowering it slightly. Kill Rassilon, sure, he's dead (maybe). But Gallifrey is still coming. The Time War still comes.

"He's not the link," the Doctor murmured.

The Master made the realization at the same time. "I am," he muttered. "Of course I am."

"You see? It is your lover, or the universe. You cannot save both," Rassilon mocked him.

"The link is in my head. The only way stop to Gallifrey from coming...is to kill me," the Master rumbled.

"So what will it be, Doctor?"

No.

There's got to be another way.

After all this…it can't end this way.

The Doctor felt something slip into his empty hand, and he realized it was the Master. "Kill me," he whispered mournfully. "You have to."

"I can't," the Doctor said, eyes squeezed shut.

"You owe me one anyway," the Master laughed bitterly. "The radio tower, remember? You can get me back for it."

"I won't."

The Master touched his cheek softly and the Doctor opened his eyes.

"Just do it, Theta," the Master said. "Do it now, while I'm still thinking clearly. Because there's no saving my soul anyway."

"Just leave me," said the Doctor sadly, and Sam stared the Doctor down. "I can't," he replied.

"Help her," said Sam quietly as Cassandra withered away. "Isn't that what you do?"

"If you destroy it, then how are you any better?!" demanded Sam. "You've done so much unbelievable good-enough to outweigh the bad ten times over…You're better than this. What the hell are you changing into?"

"I want you safe, my dear Doctor," said Sam, his gaze falling to the Doctor, his golden eyes leaking energy and piercing into him. "Protected from the false god."

"So, where are we going first?" "Er, that way. No, hold on…that way." "That way?" "Mm-hmm."

"Yeah, well…we're a team. We should stick together." "Not stuck here, though." "Yeah, but stuck with you? That's not so bad." "Yeah?" " Yes. "

"Maybe it was a mistake. Like on a…drawing. Like on a child's drawing…of course! Who would take children? Another child." "Oh, ho-ho-ho. Sam Tyler, you are beautiful."

"Doctor, I know you can fight this. You're not going to leave me behind. It's you and me, always. Doctor, hear me! "

"Don't you realize how hard this is for me? I finally, finally , have a version of you that can love me back, can grow old with me and be with me. But it's not right for me to keep you. The universe needs the Doctor...we don't have any other choice."

Koschei was always there. He'd never been lost at all. And now he was standing right in front of him.

The Doctor's eyes widened as he realized what he had to do. "I disagree. You can be saved," he breathed, surging forward and for the first time in hundreds of years, kissing the Master (the actual Master) square on the lips.

The Master kissed back, believing it was his last chance. The Doctor cupped the back of the Master's head with one hand, pouring centuries of longing into that kiss. He was pleased that the Master looked a little dazed when the Doctor pulled back.

"Get out of the way," the Doctor said kindly.

The Master looked confused at first…then he slowly smiled. He stepped aside, and the Doctor shot the whitepoint star. The signal device exploded into sparks. "The link is broken!" the Doctor shouted. "Back into the Time War, Rassilon! Back into hell!"

"You'll die with me, Doctor!" roared Rassilon. "You and your lover!"

"I know," said the Doctor firmly.

Rassilon raised his gauntlet and aimed it at the Doctor.

"Oh no you won't," said the Master. "Theta, get out of the way."

The Doctor stepped back, and the Master shot a blast of blue energy at Rassilon. "You did this to me!" he screamed. Another blast. "All of my life!" He kept firing at the Time Lord. "You made me!"

"Kos, you're burning your life force away!" the Doctor cried.

The Master continued to lay an assault on the Lord High President. "ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!" he counted off, stalking toward the dais, and Rassilon crumpled under the onslaught.

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light, and when it died down, the Time Lord Council—and the Master—had disappeared.

Chapter 94: This Song Is Ending, Volume 10

Notes:

Chapter based on "The End Of Time, Part 2" by Russell T. Davies, original air date: January 1, 2010 (4/4).

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The Doctor stared at the spot where his lover had been standing only moments ago, breathless. Of course. Of course the universe would separate them again, after fighting tooth and nail to come back together.

The Doctor could hear nothing but his own heavy breathing and the one-two-three-four of his heartsbeats in his ears—the sound that had tortured poor Koschei for so long.

Then he heard a different beat of four.

Knock knock knock knock.

The Doctor froze.

Knock knock knock knock.

The Time Lord painstakingly got to his feet and looked over at Wilf, still trapped in the Vinvocci booth, staring back at him questioningly. The human raised his fist again and gently knocked on the glass. Knock knock knock knock.

He will knock four times, Carmen's words echoed in his mind.

The Doctor swallowed a lump forming in his throat.

"They gone, then?" Wilf asked.

The Doctor nodded silently.

"Yeah, good-o. If you could let me out?"

"Yeah," said the Doctor hoarsely.

Wilf looked around his glass encasing. "Only, this thing seems to be making a bit of a noise."

The Doctor sighed. "The Master left the Nuclear Bolt running. It's gone into overload."

"And that's bad, is it?" Wilf asked.

"No," the Doctor responded. "Because all the excess radiation gets vented inside there. Vinvocci glass contains it. All five hundred thousand rads, about to flood that thing."

"Oh. Well, you'd better let me out, then," Wilf said in surprise.

"Except it's gone critical. Touch one control and it floods." The Doctor pulled out his sonic and looked at it. "Even this would set it off."

Wilf realized what that meant. "I'm sorry…look, just leave me."

Yeah. In what universe would he do that?

Part of him wanted to scream and cry and shout and stomp his feet like a petulant child. But part of him was resigned to his fate. Here and now—this was always where he was headed.

It wasn't fair. But then, when was death ever fair? Was it fair when he and Peri were both dying of spectrox poisoning and there was only enough of antidote for one of them? Was it fair when he'd absorbed the Time Vortex from Sam to save him from burning up?

But would it be fair to let Wilf die in here, a human who had but one life to live, when the Doctor had another waiting for him? Would it be fair to take away Donna's grandfather so suddenly like this?

This life had gone on for too long anyway.

"No…n-no, no please," Wilf begged as the Doctor ambled toward the glass cage. "Please don't. No, don't, don't! Please don't, please!…" He began to sob.

"Wilfred, it's my honor," the Doctor said as he let himself into the adjoining booth. "Better be quick. Three, two, one-"

The Doctor pressed the button to release Wilf and lock himself in. The system released the radiation, and the Doctor cried out in anguish as his body absorbed it, his spine arching and his toes curling in his Converse. He slid to the floor as energy drained out of him, too weak to even hold himself up. His limbs turned to cooked spaghetti, and he curled in on himself on the floor.

And the booth powered down, as quickly as it had come on. The Doctor lay on the marble floor, unable to move.

After a moment the Doctor took some deep gulps of breath, trying to gather whatever was left of his strength, and slowly pulled himself up. Wilf was staring at him from the outside. "'Ello?"

"Hi," grunted the Doctor.

"Still with us?"

"The system's dead. I absorbed it all. Whole thing's kaput." The Doctor pushed on the door and it swung open. "Oh. Now it opens, yeah," he scoffed.

"Well, there we are, then," Wilf chuckled in relief as the Doctor stepped out of the booth. "Safe and sound. Mind you, you're in hell of a state. You've got some battle scars there." He pointed to the Doctor's face, covered in cuts and contusions from the glass that he'd smashed through.

The Doctor brought his hands to his face and rubbed. He felt his skin knitting back together, the cuts healing themselves.

"But they've…" Wilf stared at the Doctor's now uninjured face in confusion. "Your face…how did you do that?"

"It's started," the Doctor simply said.

Wilf inhaled softly, heartbroken, and waddled forward to pull him into a tight hug.

"Oh, she's smiling," the Doctor commented as he dropped Wilf off in front of his house in Chiswick. Sylvia was leaning out her door, waving at them happily. "As if today wasn't bad enough. Anyway…" He looked at the little old human. "Don't go thinking this is goodbye, Wilf. I'll see you again, one more time."

"What do you mean? When's that?" Wilf asked.

"Just keep looking. I'll be there."

"Where are you going?"

The Doctor smiled dolefully. "To get my reward."

Pete Tyler's World

"Ladies and gentlemen, and variations thereof," said Harry Saxon, standing up from the head of the table, laden with turkey, pudding, crackers, and all sorts of Christmas goodies. He raised his glass of wine. "A toast—to the President-elect of Great Britain: Peter Alan Tyler!"

Everyone sitting around the Preachers' Christmas dinner table burst into applause, and Jackie leant over to kiss her husband on the cheek. "Thank you, thank you," chuckled Pete. "And to you, Harold Saxon. May you someday take over office from me."

"You know me, Pete," laughed Harry. "I'm not one for politics. Besides…" He turned to the man at his right elbow and took his hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. "It'd draw me away from this fella."

Dr. John Noble-Smith smiled, leaning over to kiss him.

"Urgh, you two make me sick," said Rose, rolling her eyes fondly. "Mickey, pass the butter, would ya?"

"Oh oh, wait, I have a toast too!" said Annie, standing up. She raised her glass. "To the Doctor, wherever in this crazy universe he may be."

"To the Doctor," said the Tylers.

"To the Doctor," said Mickey and Jake.

Harry smiled at John. "To the Doctor…for giving me you," he murmured, stealing another kiss from his soon-to-be husband.

Factory ruins, 2010

Dr. Martha Jones raised through an alley, clutching a large gun. Behind her, a Sontaran was firing and barely missing her, small explosions of sparks bursting on the ground near her feet. She took cover behind a wall of stone, panting for air.

Suddenly her phone began to ring. Martha made a noise of confusion and pulled it, answering it quickly before the enemy Sontaran could track the noise. "'Lo?"

"Hey, what time are you gonna be home?" asked Tom on the other end. "I'm making your favorite stir fry."

"Um…" Martha quickly stuck her head from behind the corner and fired a shot, then ducked back into her hiding spot. "Can't tell you. I'm swamped here at the office."

"Do I hear explosions?"

"Yeah, they've got on Apocalypse Now in the exam room. Patient picked it, not me."

"Well, you sound busy. Just try to come home soon. You shouldn't be over-exerting yourself anyway, Mummy."

"Hey, who's the doctor here, you or me?" Martha laughed breathlessly, firing off another shot. "Listen, I just have to take care of one more thing, and then I'll be home, promise."

"Yes, ma'am. Love you."

"Love you too. See you soon." Martha quickly hung up and slipped her phone back in her pocket.

Suddenly a shot went off directly over Martha's head. She gasped and dived—this is what she got for going freelance—looking up ahead. She spotted a Sontaran falling over on his side up on a metal catwalk. And standing beside him, a large rubber mallet clutched in his hand…

"Doctor!" Martha gasped.

The Doctor winked at her, then turned and walked away, his long brown coat flapping in the wind heroically.

Martha smiled and shook her head fondly. Looks like she would be home early today. And maybe it was time she told Tom what she really did.

Bannerman Road

"That was the maddest Christmas ever, Clive," said young Luke Smith excitedly into his mobile as he walked along the sidewalk. "Mum still doesn't know what happened. She got Mister Smith to put out this story saying that Wi-Fi went mad all across the world, giving everyone hallucinations." He began to cross the street, paying no mind to his surroundings. "I mean, how else do you explain it? Everyone with a different face-"

Suddenly someone grabbed him, shoving him back to the sidewalk as a car honked angrily. He narrowly avoided being run over. Luke breathlessly looked up into the face of his rescuer. His eyes widened. "But it's you! You're-"

"Might wanna look both ways next time you cross the street," said the Doctor with a cheeky grin. "Or didn't your mother ever teach you that."

Luke blushed, flustered. He'd seen images of the Doctor before, of course, but now that he was here, in person…he was really… "I, um…yes sir! Sorry, sir!" he stammered, his cheeks heating.

"Oh, go on," the Doctor chuckled, patting his shoulder. "And tell ol' Sarah Jane I said hi."

"Yes sir, I will, sir!" Luke exclaimed, trotting across the street (this time mindful of the traffic). "Mum! Mum!" he cried, spotting Sarah Jane striding up the street toward him.

"What? What is it?" Sarah Jane asked.

"It's him!" Luke said, pointed excitedly. "It's the Doctor!"

Sarah Jane looked across the street, and saw the Doctor standing beside his TARDIS. The Time Lord turned and looked back at them. He smiled at Sarah and waved. Sarah grinned back. The Doctor and the TARDIS then disappeared.

"Mum, you never said he was so…" Luke blushed.

Sarah smiled knowingly at him. He really was her son. "Oh, I know."

Millbank, 2009

"They want kids, millions of them."

"Why?!"

"I'm not sure, but for the next few days, don't let anyone take David and Mischa away from you. For whatever reason. This goes for you people listening in on the wire as well. Forget the Official Secrets Act. If you've got children or grandchildren, you need to hear this. And you need to tell every parent you know," Ianto Jones said into his mobile as he and Jack Harkness marched together down a back alley. "Look, I gotta go. I love you. Don't let the kids out of your sight. I love them too." Ianto smiled humorlessly. "I'm even warming up to Johnny a bit."

"We love you too," Ianto heard his sister Rhiannon say just before he hung up. He just wished he had more time.

Jack looked at him. "She'll be okay, you know."

"Don't lie to me. It doesn't help."

"Maybe this will," said another voice, and the two men jumped and reached for their guns as a figure stepped out of a sidestreet before them. Then they realized who it was and gasped.

"Doctor!" cried Jack joyously. "The cavalry's here!"

"Bloody wonderful," Ianto said, only half sincere. They could definitely use his help with the 456, but he was also a jealous bitch.

The Doctor smiled at both of them. "Sorry to disappoint, but I can't stay long. I only came to give you this." He held out a hazmat suit to Ianto. "Trust me, you're going to need it."

"Ah…thank you?" said Ianto in confusion. "But why exactly can't you stay? The Earth's children are in danger."

The Doctor winced imperceptibly as the radiation coursed through him. "I wish I could, really. But this is just one crisis Torchwood will have to handle itself."

"You're dying," Jack said in realization. "Aren't you. Believe me, I know what death looks like."

The Doctor smiled weakly. "As a wise woman once said: everything has its time, and everything ends."

"Not you," Jack said insistently.

Suddenly they heard tires screeching. "They've caught up with us," Ianto said urgently.

"Come with me, into the TARDIS," the Doctor said, ducking back into the sidestreet where the blue box was wedged. He figured one last ride was the least he could do for them, after everything.

"It really is bigger on the inside…and it's a bloody mess in here!" Ianto exclaimed as the door shut behind him.

"Doctor," said Jack, coming to the Time Lord's side. "I never told you about Tosh…about Chantho. She…she's dead."

The Doctor nodded. "I figured, when I didn't see her with your Torchwood lot."

"I'm sorry," Jack whispered, shaking his head. "I was supposed to protect her. I let you down."

"No," the Doctor said, grasping his shoulder. "You never let me down, Jack."

Jack's eyes welled up. He pulled the Doctor into a tight hug and kissed his forehead. "Thank you, old man…for everything." His eyes flitted over to Ianto, who smiled sadly back at him.

Timely Books, 2010

"It's just such a novel idea!" squealed a fan. "A gay love story set in 1913, with aliens!"

"But it's not just a story," objected Verity Newman, descendant of Joan Redfern, the nurse who'd had a brief love affair with John Smith during his stint as a human. "Every word of it is true. I found my great grandmother's diary in the loft, and she was a nurse in 1913, and she met these travelers from the future: a woman named Martha Jones, a man named Sam Tyler, and another named John Smith. Except Smith was an alien from another world. He saved the Earth from the Family of Blood. And Smith and Tyler were in love. She wrote it all down."

Verity signed the inside of the copy of her book, A Journal Of Impossible Things, for the excited man, then the next person in line moved forward. "Thank you," he muttered, sliding her his copy.

"And who's it for?" she asked without looking up.

"The Doctor."

"To the Doctor," said Verity with a chuckle. "Funny, that's the name he used…" Then she slowly realized and looked up at him.

The Doctor smiled at her. "You look just like her, by the way."

"I've been told that," Verity laughed breathlessly. "I can't believe…I mean, you look just like how she described you."

"Was she happy? In the end?"

"Yes," answered Verity. "Yes, she was. Were you?"

The Doctor's smile faded a bit. He took his book and quietly walked away.

Chiswick

Bells rang merrily as Donna Noble-Temple floated proudly out of the church, Shaun grasping her hand. She stuck her bouquet inside the pocket of her dress so she could give hugs. For some reason, she'd had a desire for pockets on her wedding dress.

"You look lovely, come here," Wilf said, pulling the happy couple in for hugs and kisses. "Everybody, three cheers! Hip, hip!"

"Hooray!" cheered the wedding guests in response.

"Hip, hip!"

"Hooray!"

"Hip, hip!"

"Hooray!"

"Right, come on then, you lot," Donna called, gather people around her and Shaun. "This photo is just with friends. Come on. And I want all of you in it. Come on. That's it. Well, friends, and Nerys. Oh, I'm only joking. Oh, look at her."

"You made me wear peach," groused Nerys.

"That's because you are a peach," Donna replied. "Furry skin, stone inside, going off."

"Okay, smile," said the photographer before Nerys could respond. They snapped the picture and tossed white rose petals into the breeze. It almost looked like snow. It reminded Donna that she had nearly planned her wedding for Christmas, but some little voice inside her had told her that that was a bad idea.

Minnie sidled up beside Wilf and nudged him. "How about it, Wilfred?"

"Eh?" said Wilf.

"Well, it's never too late." Minnie dropped a handful of rose petals on his head playfully.

"Will you behave, Minnie? Honestly," Wilf replied good-naturedly.

"I'm going to catch that bouquet!"

"Oh, dear," Wilf chuckled as she sauntered off.

"Dad," whispered Sylvia, tugging his sleeve. She was looking at something in the distance, hiding in the trees. Wilf curiously turned his head.

There he was.

Sylvia and Wilf made their way over to him while Donna and the rest were distracted. "And here you are, eh?" said Wilf. "Same old face. Didn't I tell you you'd be all right? Oh! They've arrested Mister Naismith. It was on the news. Crimes undisclosed. And his daughter. Both of them, locked up."

The Doctor smiled faintly at them, then pulled something from his pocket. "I just wanted to give you this." He handed them an envelope. "Wedding present. Thing is, I never carry money, so I just popped back in time, borrowed a quid off a really lovely man." The Doctor looked at Sylvia. "Geoffrey Noble, his name was."

Sylvia gasped softly, covering her mouth with her gloved hand.

"Have it, he said. Have that on me."

Tears began to well in Sylvia's eyes.

The Doctor nodded over to the wedding party. "Best head back…before she sees."

The two of them nodded and trodded back through the grass. Wilf gave the envelope to Donna.

"Oh, don't tell me, it's a bill. Just what I need, right now," groaned Donna, tearing it open. She fished out a slip of paper and scoffed. "A lottery ticket?!"

Wilf and Sylvia looked at each other, eyes widening in unison.

"What a cheap present!" Donna complained. "Who was that?" She slid it back in the envelope. "Still, you never know. It's a triple rollover this week. I might get lucky." She tucked in into her bra. "Oi, Shaun! Come on, we're on a tight schedule. Oxtail soup at 2:30…"

Sylvia and Wilf laughed to themselves, then they looked back at the Doctor, watching from the trees. Wilf raised his arm, puffed out his chest, and firmly saluted, tears in his eyes.

February 14, 2005

On a very unremarkable street in London, there stood a shop. On the other side of the street, a man, skinny and wearing a long brown coat, was staring at the store front, his hands in his pockets.

A double decker bus whizzed by, and the man jogged across the street in his bright Converse before the next vehicle came along. Then, when his feet reached the pavement on the other side, he stopped. He slowly approached the building.

He didn't seem to have any intention of going inside. He just seemed to be...studying it. Then, he pulled a white rose from his pocket. He'd bought it from one of the many vendors selling St. Valentine's Day flowers today.

He inhaled sharply, as if he were trying not to cry. He walked to the base of the building, slowly knelt down, and placed the rose on the ground.

He stood there for a moment longer, staring at the building. He took in another stuttering breath. The corners of his old, big, brown eyes were wet.

"Goodbye, my love," the Doctor whispered softly.

After one last look, he wiped his teary eyes and turned to go. Suddenly, someone smacked into him.

"Oh! 'Scuse me!" called a male voice with a Cockney accent.

The Doctor whirled around and watched the retreating back of a man with caramel colored hair, wearing a black hoodie, as he ran into the building, late for work. The Doctor took in a breath, shocked at the sight, in a way that bruised his hearts.

"Sorry," he whispered, but the man was already gone.

He staggered back to where his TARDIS was concealed, and standing by its doors was Ood Sigma.

We will sing to you, Doctor. The universe will sing you to your sleep. This song is ending, but the story never ends.

"No," gasped the Doctor, stumbling into the TARDIS. "One more…I just have one more…must…hold…on…"

He had said goodbye to Martha, Jack, Sarah Jane, Wilf, and all the rest of his dear friends, but there was one more he had yet to see. And he was by far the dearest of all.

The Doctor stood in his TARDIS, anxiously waiting for the transmission to get through. He knew he didn't have much time. The scars in the universe would be closing soon, and then his link inside the Time Lock would be gone forever. But not only that, the effects of the radiation were weighing heavily on his system. His body was urging him to regenerate, but he just couldn't. Not yet.

An image appeared of a vast meadow with bright red grass set under a vibrant orange sky.

Gallifrey.

And in the middle of all those fiery hues, one point of dark, a man with bleach blonde hair wearing black battle garments, stood out.

"Doctor," he said.

The Doctor swallowed. "Master."

"I still like hearing that," the blonde man smirked.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Of course you do." But he couldn't help but smile. That was the Master-mad as ever.

"Where are you?" asked the Master, politely curious.

"Inside the TARDIS," answered the Doctor. "The Time Lords, when they went back, it made a gap in the universe, just about to close. It takes a lot of power to send this projection. I'm in orbit around a supernova."

"You're burning up a sun…just to say goodbye?" asked the Master.

"Yes," said the Doctor softly.

The Master looked genuinely touched for an instant, then quickly composed himself. "Sure you're not inflicting harm on some innocent civilization with this little endeavor, Doctor?"

"I don't care."

The Master's hearts thumped in his chest. He cast his eyes down at his shoes.

"So where are you?" the Doctor changed the subject.

The Master smiled. "The big field. Behind the Academy."

"No!" The Doctor laughed. "Really? Our meadow?"

"Hasn't been ours in a long time, Doctor. But yes."

They both shared far away, wistful looks, remembering the good times, before the drums, before Theta left, before…everything.

That reminded him. "And how's the head?" asked the Doctor.

"Blissfully quiet," replied the Master. "Destroying the white point star silenced those drums forever."

The Doctor nodded. "Ah, well, good for you."

Suddenly, the Master's skin pulsed blue, and the Doctor caught a glimpse of his skeleton. "Blimey, there must be someone up there who can fix that," he commented.

"I need to regenerate. I've just been putting it off, is all," admitted the Master.

"Yeah," said the Doctor, wincing slightly as the radiation poisoning ebbed at him. "I get that."

"What's the matter with you?" asked the Master, showing more concern than he meant to. "I saved you from Rassilon. Didn't that defy your death prophecy?"

"Wilf…stuck in the Vinvocci booth. System was about to flood."

"So as usual, you risked your own scrawny neck to save one of those stupid apes? Typical." The Master shook his head. "Sentimental idiotic humanitarian." He grinned.

The Doctor smiled back. "Morally apathetic jackanapes."

The two men laughed. Then they quieted down.

"So, what now?" asked the Master.

The Doctor shrugged. "Regenerate, then it's back to the same old life, I suppose. Last of the Time Lords…sort of."

"On your own?"

The Doctor nodded.

The Master looked down. "I'm sorry…about before. What I said-"

"It's alright," said the Doctor quietly. "You don't have to say it."

The Master smiled sadly. "Oh, my dear Doctor…oh, but I do."

The Doctor shivered.

"Traveling with you…it would've been my honor too. But my stupid pride got in the way. It's what's always caused this rift between us."

"Hey, it wasn't all on your part," said the Doctor. "I wasn't exactly the most understanding or forgiving that I could've been. We were both wrong. And I am sorry. For everything."

The Master looked up slowly. His eyes were red, his cheeks wet with tears.

"I love you," he whispered.

The Doctor swallowed a lump in his throat. He tried to smile. "Quite right too, after stalking me all throughout the cosmos for centuries."

"Bastard," the Master said, but was smiling.

"Watch yourself, Pot," chuckled the Doctor. Then he took a deep breath. "And I suppose…if it's my last chance to say it…Master…Koschei…I love you too."

The Master's smiling, shining face was still watching him as the gap in the universe sealed, and the connection broke.

The Doctor raised a golden, gleaming hand to his cheek, which was damp. He smiled shakily, choking, letting the tears flow freely as he entered the first stages of regeneration.

I'm ready to go now.

Notes:

And THAT's series 4! That's a wrap on David Tennant, John Simm, and Russell T. Davies. I can't believe it's taken over 5 years to get here, but we made it, fam.
Yeah, if you noticed, I cut Ten's whole "boo hoo it's not fair" spiel because...I hate it and it annoys me. I also made Ten less mopey on his farewell tour. And if you're a fan of Torchwood, well, I saved Ianto! You're welcome! And for those of y'all who kept begging me to bring Sam back, well...there you go. He got a cameo. Yayyyyyyyyy.
Yes, I appropriated the beach scene from "Doomsday" (since I couldn't use it before) and saved it for this chapter for maximum emotions, because I'm a sadist.
By the way, this is not the end. There will be an epilogue spanning a few chapters going over Matt Smith's era (God knows when I'll have that out for you), but if you made it this far...wow. Thank you. I wouldn't have kept writing this if it wasn't for y'alls love, support, and comments. Whether you've been reading since 2014 or you just found this yesterday...thank you. 200,000+ words is a lot to ask someone to read.
Love, Ren

Chapter 95: This Song Is Ending, Volume 11

Chapter Text

The Eleventh Doctor was a much happier fellow. Younger, energetic...but he had a dark side too. Maybe it was someone's bad influence...

Life goes on and your priorities change. The Cracks, the Ponds, the Silence, the Question. The Impossible Girl. You don't forget the important things...but they move to the back of your mind sometimes. Until someone says something to conjure them up.

"Are you proposing to someone?"

The Doctor jumped and turned around. Amy was holding a ring box. Rory's ring box. Poor, poor Rory.

The Doctor felt his hearts sink. He thought about Rory being sucked into the bright white fissure, taken from this world...just like the Master. Amy was lucky in a way—at least she couldn't feel her heartache. You can't miss what you don't remember.

When the Pandorica opened, and the universe was rebooted, there was a faint hope in the Doctor's hearts that the Master might have returned. After all, Amy's parents had. But the Doctor knew it wasn't true. He would've felt him in his head. Even though the link Rassilon had made between them was broken...there would always be an ineffable bond between them.

Oh well. Weddings always cheered him up.

"You knew Sam was the Master, didn't you?"

The TARDIS pursed her lips, bobbing her head from side to side. "Yes and no."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the Doctor pouted.

"I could sense something was very wrong with him. His mind...it was like pouring salt into coffee. Not that I've ever had coffee. Is coffee any good? Does-"

The Doctor grabbed her hands gently before she could go off on a tangent. "But you didn't know it was him."

The TARDIS gave him a sorrowful look. "I think deep down I did. I didn't want to believe it, for your sake...but for the record, he really did love you. Both of them. And Sam really was good to the core."

The Doctor wrinkled his nose at her. "Then why did you keep shocking him?"

"Well...he was rather an idiot, wasn't he?"

The Doctor couldn't help but laugh.

Crong...crong...crong...

The sound of the cloister was calling to him like a siren song. The Doctor stared at the ominous 11 on the hotel room door...and slowly pushed it open.

"Of course...who else?"

The dark haired, violet eyed boy in rust colored robes stared at him tearfully, sitting before one of the Cracks. "Are you going to leave me again?" Koschei said with a sniffle. Suddenly he was encapsulated by white light, and sucked into the Crack, his screams echoing through the chasm.

The Doctor swallowed and let the door swing closed.

In a strange way, the Doctor thought the Master actually might have liked River Song. Sure, he would've probably tried to kill her since she was in love with the Doctor...but the Master would've respected the hell out of her, an honor he didn't grant most humans.

"What was he like? When he was a child?" River asked him one day with her head on his shoulder. They were sitting with their feet dangling out of the TARDIS doors as the ship hovered in space and they stared out into the Feralox Nebula.

The Doctor sighed, playing idly with her fingers. "He was...gentle. And sweet. And good. And also a mad genius. A lot like you."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant to be."

River lifted her head from his shoulder. "Why don't you try to rescue him?"

"He's on Gallifrey. Impossible to reach."

"He escaped once."

"I doubt he'd be that lucky twice. He's never had much of it to begin with."

River stared at him with a pained expression. The Doctor tried to give her a smile. "Besides, wouldn't you get jealous if he came back?"

"Oh, sweetie..." River slowly smirked. "What makes you think there wouldn't be room for me in between the two of you?"

The Doctor nearly fell out of the TARDIS in surprise, which made River laugh. It made him laugh too.

Chapter 96: This Song Is Ending, Volume 12

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Day of The Doctor" by Steven Moffat, original air date: November 23, 2013.

Chapter Text

Time Lords of Gallifrey, Daleks of Skaro, I serve notice on you all. Too long I have stayed my hand. No more. Today you leave me no choice. Today, this war will end. No more. No more...

The Warrior secured the door of the barn behind him and set the burlap sack down on the dusty, hay-strewn ground. He untied it and pulled out the Moment.

It was beautifully crafted, for a weapon. It was a large cube, heavy, wooden on the edges, but its sides were made of shiny brass gears. Steampunk, one of his friends from Earth would've said.

He cautiously pushed on one of the large gears on top. It turned ten degrees, but didn't do anything other than that. "Now...how do you work?" he murmured, turning it over and over, to look on every side for some sort of distinguishing mark. "Why is there never a big red button?" he sighed.

Suddenly, the Warrior heard the pitter-patter of feet, running through the sand and dried grass outside. He left the box sitting in the middle of the floor to check the door. He peeked outside, but saw nothing but miles of desert.

"It's nothing," said a voice.

The Warrior whipped around.

There was a woman sitting on the Moment. "It's just a Wolf," she whispered in a lilting Scottish accent.

"Don't sit on that!" the Warrior exclaimed.

"Why not?" asked the woman childishly, blinking her big blue eyes at him as he pulled her to her feet.

"Because it's not a chair, it's the most dangerous weapon in the universe!" The Warrior pushed the woman outside, but when he turned back around, the woman had reappeared atop the box.

"Why can't it be both?" said the woman, smiling at him playfully.

The Warrior looked at the door of the barn, then back at the woman, spooked.

"Why did you park so far away?" the woman asked, crossing her legs. She was wearing ragged tan clothing, and had messy dark brown waves of hair cascading from her head to her shoulders and down her back. She leaned forward and asked, in a coy voice, "Didn't you want her to see it?"

"Want who to see?" the Warrior asked.

"The TAAAAARDIS," whispered the woman, wrinkling her triangular nose at him. "You walked for miles!" she chirped, hopping up from her seat. "And miles and miles and miles and miles-"

"I was thinking," the Warrior said defensively.

"I heard you," the woman whispered.

The Warrior blinked at her. "You heard me?"

The woman puckered her mouth, scrunched her brow, and said in a low gruff voice: "No more...no more!"

"No more," whispered the Warrior to himself.

"No more, no more!" the woman cried in escalatingly silly ways.

"Stop it!" the Warrior snapped.

"Nomore."

"Who are you?" the Warrior said suspiciously, but suddenly the box's outer workings began to croak to life. "It's activating. Get out of here," the Warrior said, taking a tentative step toward the Moment. He reached out to touch it and-

"Ow!" The Warrior jerked his hand away.

"What's wrong?" the mysterious woman asked.

"The interface is hot!"

"Well, I do my best," said the woman, batting her eyelashes.

"There's a power source inside..." Suddenly the Warrior turned and looked at her. "You're the interface?"

"They must have told you the Moment had a conscience." The woman waved in a cutesy manner. "Hello, Theta."

The Warrior blanched at that name.

"Oh, look at you. Stuck between a girl and a box." The Moment clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "Story of your life, eh, Doctor?"

"You know me?"

"I hear you," the Moment murmured, her blue eyes piercing right into his soul. "All of you, jangling around in that dusty old head of yours. I chose this face and form especially for you. It's from your past...or possibly your future. I always get those two mixed up."

"I don't have a future," the Warrior said gravely.

"I think I'm called...Sam Tyler. No, that's not the one. Harold Saxon? No, that's not it either. It's a different face...well, nevertheless. In this form, I'm called...Bad Wolf."

Suddenly the Moment's eyes glowed.

"Are you afraid of the big bad wolf, Doctor?" she said in a foreboding whisper.

"Stop calling me Doctor."

"That's the name in your head."

"It shouldn't be," the Warrior insisted. "I've been fighting this war for a long time. I've lost the right to be the Doctor."

The Moment sighed. "Then you're the one to save us all."

"Yes."

"If I ever develop an ego, you've got the job."

"If you have been inside my head, then you know what I've seen. The suffering. Every moment in time and space is burning. It must end, and I intend to end it the only way I can."

"And you're going to use me to end it by killing them all, Daleks and Time Lords alike," the Moment said. "I could, but there will be consequences for you."

"I have no desire to survive this," said the Warrior.

"Then that's your punishment," declared the Moment. "If you do this, if you kill them all, then that's the consequence. You live. Gallifrey. You're going to burn it, and all those Daleks with it, but all those children too. How many children on Gallifrey right now?"

"I don't know," the Warrior said wearily.

"One day you will count them. One terrible night." The Moment smiled impishly. "Do you want to see what that will turn you into?" She shook his arm gently. "Come on, aren't you curious?"

Suddenly a portal opened above them, spinning like a tiny cyclone.

"I'm opening windows on your future," the Moment said. "A tangle in time through the days to come, to the man today will make of you..."

Suddenly something dropped out of the portal and fell on the dusty ground—a small, cylindrical red hat made of felt. A fez.

"Okay...I wasn't expecting that," the Moment muttered.

"Hello, hello, Gallifrey High Command! This is the Doctor speaking," he shouted into the comms system.

"Hello! Also the Doctor, can you hear me?" asked his past incarnation.

"Also the Doctor," the Warrior chimed in gravely. "Standing ready."

"Dear God, three of them," said the General, groaning. "All my worst nightmares at once."

"General," said the tenth. "We have a plan."

"We should point at this moment, it is a fairly terrible plan," added the eleventh.

"And almost certainly won't work," added the tenth.

"I was happy with 'fairly terrible'," scowled the eleventh.

"Sorry, just...thinking out loud."

The eleventh continued. "We're flying our three TARDISes into your lower atmosphere."

"We're positioned at equidistant intervals around the globe," the tenth explained, then added to himself, "'Equidistant', so grown up."

"We're just about ready to do it," the warrior announced.

"Ready to do what?"

But before the General's question could be answered, their TARDISes all sounded off their cloister bells, signaling danger.

The eleventh checked his monitor. "Temporal collision! Incoming!"

"It must be another TARDIS," said the warrior. "Perhaps one of our other selves showing up early to the party?"

"Well that would sort of ruin the dramatic buildup," the eleventh muttered, rubbing his notable chin. "Not quite my style."

"No, no, this is different, something wrong," said the tenth, running diagnostics. "It's like the TARDIS has been inverted somehow-"

Another channel of communication opened, and a man with hazel eyes and light brown hair, in a black suit, appeared. He looked over the screen, then his eyes narrowed when they focused on the tenth Doctor. "What in the name of Omega does your infernal machine think it's doing, Doctor?" he spat.

The eleventh grew very quiet.

The tenth swallowed. "Sam?" he asked with weak hope.

The man laughed coldly. "Sorry to disappoint you, lover boy. But it's all me."

"Who is this man?" inquired the warrior.

"I could ask you the same thing, Gramps," scoffed the Master.

The warrior stood erect. "I am the Doctor."

"Oh great, another one." The Master looked at the eleventh. "And I suppose you are too? Which one are you? Bow tie, are you the second?"

He licked his lips. "Eleventh, actually."

"Oh, yes, that's right, your second was shorter. Three Stooges haircut. And you?" The Master turned back to the War Doctor. "Number twelve, I suppose."

"I'm number nine," answered the warrior.

"Whoa, hang about. Something's amiss here. Northern accent and leather jacket was number nine."

"Yeah, he's sort of an...in between, you might say. More of an 8.5," the tenth said, his voice wobbly.

"Oh, hold on. Wait a minute. Between Eight and Nine?" The Master slowly grinned. "Oh, that is rich. A secret Doctor. What's the matter, old friend, too ashamed of what you did, so you had to go and hide yourself away, oh, that is so typical of you, Doctor, brushing the blame away from yourself. Self-righteous bastard."

"Enough!" snapped the eleventh. "Look, we've enough to deal with here without you interfering. How did you even get here, anyway?"

The Master seemed puzzled. "Well I'd finished converting your—I'm not spoiling anything important, am I? Hate for future you to go ruining my excellent plan."

"Doesn't matter, already did," said the tenth Doctor impatiently. "He hijacked my TARDIS and converted it into a paradox machine. Which makes sense why he would show up here. The paradox machine sensed a major event it was directly involved in and came running to join its past and future selves. Reinforces the three of us being all together at the same point in time and protects the events from becoming undone."

"Wait a minute," said the Warrior. "What did you say that crackpot's done with my ship?!"

"Look, it's fine, he can help by being here. The more TARDISes, the better," said the Eleventh Doctor.

"Would someone please explain to me what this is all about?!" shouted the General.

"We're going to freeze Gallifrey," said the Eleventh.

The Master looked at him bewildered. "Say that again?"

"Using our TARDISes," explained the Tenth, "we're going to freeze Gallifrey in a single moment of time."

"You know, like those stasis cubes?" added the Warrior. "A single moment in time, held in a parallel pocket universe."

"Except we're going to do it to a whole planet," said the Eleventh.

"And all the people on it," finished the Tenth.

The Master stared from Doctor to Doctor. "I knew it," he said. "I knew someday it'd happen. You've finally gone madder than me."

"I hate to agree with the Master," said the General, "but even if that were possible, which it isn't...why would you do such a thing?"

"Because the alternative is burning," said the Eleventh.

"And I've seen that," said the Tenth.

"And I never want to see it again."

"We would be lost in another universe...frozen in a single moment. We'd have nothing," whispered the General.

"You would have hope!" said the Eleventh. "And right now that is exactly what you don't have!"

"It's delusional!" argued the General. "Why, the calculations alone would take...hundreds of years!"

"Oh, hundreds and hundreds!" agreed the Eleventh.

"But don't worry," said the Tenth. "I started a very long time ago."

Suddenly, a new voice broke in. "Warning the War Council of Gallifrey...this is the Doctor!" The voice was antique, but nonetheless familiar. A wizened old man with long white hair, in a TARDIS of his own, joined them onscreen.

The Master's mouth fell open. He'd know Theta's voice anywhere. "I don't believe it," he murmured.

The Eleventh Doctor grinned at his old acquaintance's surprise. "You might say I've been doing this all my lives!"

"Oh, oh, hang on!" The Master typed in something in the Doctor's TARDIS. "There!" he proclaimed.

The Tenth Doctor looked suspicious. "What did you just do?"

The Master grinned devilishly. "Called up my other selves, of course. What, you seriously thought I'd leave the fate of Gallifrey in your hands? Hardly."

Along with all the wooden blue boxes encircling the planet, a handsome red brick chimney whizzed forward. From inside, Koschei II, stroking his greying whiskers, mumbled, "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Good luck," called the Second Doctor.

"Hardly need it, Doctor," the War Chief sneered teasingly.

"Stand by," said the Third Doctor.

"Just try not to get in my way," answered the Twelfth Master smugly, the one who smoked cigars and habitually wore Nehru suits.

"Ready?" asked the Fourth Doctor.

The charred, molting remains of the Thirteenth Master chuckled hoarsely. "As I'll ever be, old friend."

"Commencing calculations..." muttered the Eighth Doctor.

"Care sharing those figures, Doctor?" another Master scoffed. This one was bald, in a light grey morning suit.

"Soon be there!" exclaimed the Fifth Doctor optimistically.

"Across the boundaries that divide one universe from another!" said the Seventh Doctor, throwing switches.

The ginger Master wearing the (inexplicable) tie bearing the Union Jack rolled his eyes and tutted. "Always with the dramatics."

The Sixth Doctor was punching buttons frantically. "Just got to lock onto his coordinates..."

The Trakenite Master, dressed head to toe in black velvet, chuckled deeply at him. "Do try to keep up, Doctor, sometime this century if you don't mind," he teased.

The Ninth Doctor, grinning ear to big ear, pulled down a lever. "And for my next trick!..."

Every facet the Doctor and the Master had ever had made an appearance. The General watched the holo-screens in mock horror. "I didn't know when I was well off," he remarked to Androgar, his second-in-command. "All...twenty five of them!"

"No sir!" negated Androgar as yet another communique was established. "All twenty seven!"

On the screen, a pair of bulging blue eyes accompanied by a set of intense grey eyebrows had appeared, scowling fiercely.

On the opposite side of the orange planet—strangely enough—an umbrella stand had breezed onto the scene. Inside, dainty fingers, with long, carefully manicured dark red nails, caressed the controls. A pair of ruby lips smiled.

Back inside the War Room, the patrons had to hold on for dear life as the entire planet shook. "Sir!" exclaimed Androgar. "The Daleks know that something is happening. They're increasing their firepower!"

The lights flickered as the structure rumbled again. The General swallowed hard. This war was coming to a head. Gallifrey would be torn apart, and then—who could stop the Daleks then?

"Do it, Doctor," the General heard himself say. "Just do it...do it!"

The Eleventh Doctor nodded. "Okay. We're ready." He looked at the Master on the screen. "And Master...thank you."

The Master eyed him scathingly. "I still hate you, you know."

The Eleventh smiled at him, bittersweet. "No you don't."

Then he straightened his bowtie, pulled down the lever, and cried, "GERONIMO!"

"Allons-y!" shouted the Tenth, pulling up on a knob with a fancy flick of his wrist.

The Warrior rolled his eyes. "Oh, for God's sake. Gallifrey stands!" He cranked a lever.

"For the future!" declared the Master, slamming his fist down on a button.

The TARDISes converged on the planet, there was a white flash, and Gallifrey was gone.

The Doctors watched the TARDIS of their past forgotten self dematerialize. The former Time Lord turned to the current one. "I won't remember either, so you might as well tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Where it is we're going that you don't want to talk about."

The eleventh took a deep breath. "I saw Trenzalore, where we're buried. We die in battle among millions."

"That's not how it's supposed to be," said the tenth.

"That's how the story ends," said the older Doctor. "Nothing we can do about it. Trenzalore is where you're going."

The tenth sighed. The Doctor could really begin to see his age wearing on him, even though the face he was looking at was younger than his current one. His younger self looked at him with sad brown eyes. "So, I don't suppose...I don't suppose we ever see him again."

The Doctor knew exactly who he meant. "Once," he said. "And then, never again."

The younger Doctor shrugged and put his hands in the deep pockets of his long coat. "Oh, never say never. Anyway, good to know my future is in safe hands." He turned to his future companion and grinned. "Keep a tight hold on it, Clara."

Clara laughed. "On it."

The tenth kissed her hand and ambled over to his TARDIS. "Trenzalore..." he muttered. "We need a new destination, because..." He stopped at the door of his blue box and looked at his future. "I'm not ready to go."

And so, the Tenth Doctor headed off to his final adventure. The one where he would meet his old friend all over again, witness the temporary return of his home planet and the Time Lords, defeat Rassilon, save the Master and be saved by him in return, and have one last goodbye with his love, Koschei.

"He will be," the Doctor said to Clara once he was gone.

"Need a moment alone with your painting?" Clara asked.

The Doctor smiled sadly. "How did you know?"

"Those big sad eyes."

"Ah."

Clara patted his arm. "I always know." She walked over to the last remaining TARDIS and said passively as she went inside, "Oh, by the way, there was an old man looking for you. I think it was the curator."

The door shut behind her. The Doctor chuckled to himself. That impossible girl.

He sat down on a stone bench in front of the Time Lord painting and looked at it.

"I could be a curator," he said to himself. "I'd be great at curating. I'd be 'the Great Curator'." He embellished this statement with a grand sweep of his hand. He laughed at himself for that. The War Doctor had been right, he really couldn't talk without flapping his hands about. "I could retire and do that," he said. "I could retire and be the curator of this place."

"You know, I really think you might."

The Doctor froze. He turned at the noise.

A man stood in the doorway of the room. He was elderly, leaning on a cane, with thin white curls, wide eyes, and just a hint of a mischievous smile.

The Doctor nearly burst out laughing. How many Doctors was he going to meet today? "I never forget a face," he said to this stranger who looked a hell of a lot like his fourth self, only much, much older, physically.

"I know you don't," said the Curator, grinning. "And in years to come, you might find yourself revisiting a few. But just the old favorites, eh?"

The Doctor winked.

The Curator hobbled up to the portrait before them. "You were curious about this painting, I think. I acquired it in remarkable circumstances. What do you make of the title?"

"Which title?" the Doctor asked, standing alongside him and staring at it. "There's two. No More, or Gallifrey Falls."

"Oh, you see, that's where everybody's wrong," said the Curator. "It's all one title: Gallifrey Falls No More." He smiled wryly at him. "Now, what would you think that means, eh?"

"That Gallifrey didn't fall," the Doctor said in amazement. "It worked. It's still out there."

"I'm only a humble curator. I'm sure I wouldn't know," said the old man.

"Then where is it?"

"Where is it indeed? Lost. Shh!" The Curator shushed suddenly, then added calmly, "Perhaps. Things do get lost, you know. And now you must excuse me. Oh..." He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "You have a lot to do."

"Do I?" asked the Doctor.

"Mmm." The Curator nodded.

"Is that what I'm supposed to do now?" said the Doctor excitedly. "Go looking for Gallifrey?"

"Oh, it's entirely up to you," the Curator answered. "Your choice, eh? I can only tell you what I would do, if I were you. Oh." He laughed, and so did the Doctor. "If I were you. Oh, perhaps I was you, of course. Or perhaps, you are me?" He shook the Doctor's hand. "Congratulations."

"Thank you very much," said the Doctor, grinning so hard, he thought his face might break.

"Or perhaps it doesn't matter either way," said the Curator. "Who knows, eh?" He put a finger to his nose and whispered, "Who knows?"

The Curator turned to leave. The Doctor happily watched him go. Then he looked up.

A man was waiting for the Curator.

He was elderly too, with snow white hair, and chubby cheeks. He was dressed in a familiar outfit, consisting of black trousers and shoes, a burgundy waistcoat and pocketwatch chain (though no fobwatch this time, thank goodness), a white dress shirt with wonderfully baggy sleeves, and a floppy black bow tie (the Doctor approved). A loving look in his eye, he fondly took the Curator's arm. Then he glanced over at the Doctor. He smiled knowingly and winked.

The Doctor's nonexistent eyebrows rose.

The two men, arm in arm, turned and sauntered away.

"Koschei," the Doctor whispered.

Chapter 97: This Song Is Ending, Volume 13

Notes:

Chapter based on "The Time of The Doctor" by Steven Moffat, original air date: December 25, 2013.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Clara sometimes asks me if I dream. "Of course I dream," I tell her. "Everybody dreams." "But what do you dream about," she'll ask. "The same thing everybody dreams about," I tell her. "I dream about where I'm going." She always laughs at that. "But you're not going anywhere, you're just wandering about." That's not true. Not anymore. I have a new destination. My journey is the same as yours, the same as anyone's...

"Oh, it's good to be wearing clothes again," said Clara as they clambered out of the TARDIS, now properly dressed for the cold Trenzalore climate. "That's so much better, don't you think?"

The Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver and scanned the air. "Now, what do we make of this place? It's two o'clock in the afternoon. Must be very short days here," he said, observing the night sky. Then he pointed to the clock tower in the town square. "The message is coming from that tower."

"Doctor, that woman is walking over to us," said Clara.

The Doctor didn't look up. "Oh? Oh, right, okay, here's the plan, we're a couple from the next town. My name's probably Hank or Rock, something like that."

"Or Daisy?" teased Clara.

"Shut up," groused the Doctor as the stranger approached. "Hello, good to meet you! Nice snow." He turned to grin merrily at the woman...then his face fell.

"Hello, Doctor," said the woman, batting her long eyelashes at him.

She had long brown hair pinned up on top of her head, beneath a black straw hat with fake berries and leaves. She was dressed in a dark plum, Victorian-esque coat and skirt combination, with a very familiar broach pinned to her throat. She carried an umbrella, and had red painted lips and glimmering blue eyes.

"So…a woman this time? Didn't see that coming."

The woman smirked.

"Doctor? Do you two...know each other?" Clara asked cautiously.

"Know her? We grew up together," the Doctor said. He was having trouble staying composed.

"You might say we're old friends," the woman added in a warm Scottish accent. "Well, the Doctor would say we're worst enemies. You always did have a flair for dramatics, dear."

"Best enemies," corrected the Doctor.

"Ah, yes, best enemies," said the woman. "My mistake."

"How...how are you even here right now?" the Doctor asked. "It's been three hundred years since you were sent back to Gallifrey, in my timeline."

"Three hundred years? Really? Poor thing. You must have missed me terribly," the woman teased him gently.

"Damn right I did, now tell me," the Doctor said.

The woman laughed. "Much more honest with yourself this time, eh, my dear? Fine. The cracks in the universe. Gallifrey's bleeding through. The Time Lords were able to open them just wide enough to send a person through."

"But why? Why you?" the Doctor couldn't help but ask.

"They figured if anyone could convince you to help them, it was me, especially given our...complicated history." She winked at Clara.

Clara gave a small gasp.

"And I have your next round of regenerations right here," said the woman, holding up a glass ball of glowing, fiery energy. "But first, we have work to do. The Time Lords want back in, and we both know that can't happen."

"The Time Lords are the ones sending the signal," said the Doctor. "But what's it say?"

"Why, Theta, I thought you would have able to guess," said the woman. "The first question. The oldest question in the universe. The question you've been running from all your life: 'Doctor who?'"

The Doctor swallowed. "Ah. And you're going to try to convince to give up my name, are you?"

"No," said the woman, stepping forward.

The Doctor's hearts were beating faster than they had in three hundred years. "Then why did you come?"

The woman simply took his hand. "Because it's time for change, Doctor. Time for me to stand with you."

The Doctor slowly smiled. He squeezed her hand. "That's just what I've always wanted."

"Then Merry Christmas." The woman smiled.

"I'm sorry…who is this woman?"

The woman finally turned to look at Clara. "I have been called the Master in the past. Though in this regeneration…I'm rather partial to 'Missy.'"

The Doctor smiled, looking her over. "I think I like it too." He cupped her face and kissed her softly.

It's taken me so many years, so many lifetimes, but at last I know where I'm going. Where I've always been going...

Home. The long way around.

Notes:

Thank you so much to everyone who read and commented! I'm going to treasure all your kind words forever. --Ren
Oh, this fic has a TV Tropes page now! https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/YouAreNotAlone

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(Previous comment deleted.)
1. jjayjjax (resverie) on Chapter 1 Sun 04 Jan 2015 09:37PM UTC
  
  It's his nickname. His real name is unfortunately still unknown.
  
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2. 1. Phanfindsfriends (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sun 20 Dec 2015 04:46AM UTC
    
    No I think they only say it's their real name so the timelords don't go around using his name to start wars
    
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shipslikefedex221b on Chapter 1 Tue 30 Sep 2014 04:44PM UTC

*squealing* I cAN'T *dies*

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Calyss (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sun 11 Oct 2015 10:54PM UTC

I found it again !!! *dance in joy*

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actualkoschei on Chapter 1 Tue 27 Oct 2015 12:55AM UTC

I like this a lot. Very creative idea, and a great take on one of my favourite pairings.

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Chaotic Wolf (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sun 22 Nov 2015 02:14PM UTC

At the end it reminds me of some vines I watched earlier and one said 'What in the fuck?'

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Phanfindsfriends (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sun 20 Dec 2015 04:45AM UTC

Well, Sam that was your memories. Now go find tha old fob watch.

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P. O. (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sat 16 Jan 2016 11:16AM UTC

This is fantastic. Brilliant. Amazing. Superb. Wonderful. Incredible. Unforgettable. Irresistably. And 100% Human.

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itsprobably2amhere on Chapter 1 Mon 15 Feb 2016 03:21AM UTC

999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
welp.
i'm going to grillby's. papyrus, you want anything?

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1. Michelle (Guest) on Chapter 1 Wed 08 Jun 2016 03:50AM UTC
  
  AGHHH DONT SAY THAT!!!! THE REMAINING SHREDS OF MY SOUL JUST DISSOLVED
  
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2. 1. Michelle (Guest) on Chapter 1 Wed 08 Jun 2016 03:51AM UTC
    
    Seriously though, ecellent fanfic. Love your writing style.
    
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  2. 1. victorian_sexstache on Chapter 1 Wed 08 Jun 2016 04:09AM UTC
      
      Aww, thanks. ^_^
      
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Neylian on Chapter 1 Thu 21 Jul 2016 09:04AM UTC

OMG this is so perfect I don't know where to begin !!
First the Doctor travelling with a male companion for once AND it's the Master ! who's so cute btw
I really liked the way you made him fall in love gradually and not at first sight, makes it more realistic I guess and the Feels (capital F) !
The trick with the name was pure genius !! the 'Tyler' part was obvious and I guessed the surname wasn't chosen at random but what you did is just brilliant !
And the Bad Wolf Master ! so awesome I can't wrap my mind around it, too bad it was only temporary, the possibilities ...
Love how you tweaked canon events like the battle of canary warf or my absolute favorite so far : John Smith <3 kind of sad they couldn't have their happy ending but they finally ended up together which kind of made up for it.
Only bad side but it couldn't be helped is that you broke my heart when Sam reverted to the Master and he turned out to be just as insane as he ever was. (Nice touch with bringing Ianto on the Valiant btw ;) )
I really hope his time as Sam changed him for the best (who am I kidding?) and that this won't end in tears (fingers crossed !)
Anyway thank you for writing and sharing this !!

Last Edited Thu 21 Jul 2016 09:05AM UTC

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1. victorian_sexstache on Chapter 1 Thu 21 Jul 2016 06:51PM UTC
  
  Awww, you're so sweet! Thank you, lovey ^_^
  
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trusty_vault_13_canteen (PeculiarReality) on Chapter 1 Wed 12 Apr 2017 09:19AM UTC

Ooo, I just saw this was updated and I had forgotten to sub to it. Not making that mistake again, but also reading from the beginning because I forgot a good deal of what happened.

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1. victorian_sexstache on Chapter 1 Wed 12 Apr 2017 01:50PM UTC
  
  Oh, yay! :)
  
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SueloRojo on Chapter 1 Fri 03 May 2019 03:57PM UTC

I’m saving this in my bookmarks on my phone just so it’s easy to find when I want to reread it lmao. Bookmarking it isn’t enough haha!
This is really helping me get through and I love it so much (even when I tear up a wee bit - slightly!!!) but it’s just - so good, I love it.

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1. victorian_sexstache on Chapter 1 Fri 03 May 2019 05:19PM UTC
  
  Aw, that’s so sweet. Thank you :)
  
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Frrogg on Chapter 1 Tue 04 Jun 2019 03:00AM UTC

I believe I read this same thing a very long time ago. I can see that you updated in 2019, so I’m just about to read it all again. Cheers!

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1. victorian_sexstache on Chapter 1 Tue 04 Jun 2019 03:06AM UTC
  
  :D
  
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Nastya_M_Steel on Chapter 1 Mon 06 Apr 2020 11:29AM UTC

Saw this for the fourth time today and went "fuck it"

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The_Akumu_King on Chapter 1 Sat 13 Jun 2020 11:44PM UTC

After 10 minutes of searching for this fic, I have found it! I had to use my phone to find it because it doesn't pop up when I'm signed into an account, then i had to search the title and the rating, but it was well worth it.

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1. victorian_sexstache on Chapter 1 Sun 14 Jun 2020 05:54PM UTC
  
  Well I’m glad you found it! Lol
  
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Purplemerald on Chapter 1 Sun 31 Jan 2021 12:50PM UTC

Woaaaaaah i really bloody love thsi

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Narratiuncula on Chapter 1 Tue 30 May 2023 06:40PM UTC

Wait, so is he human human or time-watch human? I sure hope it's the second.
Anyways, it's an awesome beginning and I'll probably binge read this now :)

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1. victorian_sexstache on Chapter 1 Tue 30 May 2023 07:27PM UTC
  
  😉
  
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novemberbrooks on Chapter 1 Mon 04 Sep 2023 11:38AM UTC

oh, i'm so reading this

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Starwinterbutterfly on Chapter 1 Fri 26 Apr 2024 06:44PM UTC

<3<3

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NovaZenZi on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Aug 2024 05:30AM UTC

i remember reading this fanfic YEARS ago. you were actually the reason why i got an ao3 account in the first place. this is by far one of the most beautiful and well written fanfics ive ever read, and its probably one of my favorites, maybe even marking number one on my list. i need to find the time to reread this because oh my goodness. thank you so much for writing this fic :)

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1. IAmTheRedLady (victorian_sexstache) on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Aug 2024 10:46AM UTC
  
  That’s so sweet!!!!! Thank you so much ❤️
  
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asexualautistic on Chapter 1 Tue 16 Sep 2025 03:01AM UTC

Rereading, still great

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1. IAmTheRedLady (victorian_sexstache) on Chapter 1 Tue 16 Sep 2025 04:01AM UTC
  
  Welcome back, we love repeat customers 😆
  
  Last Edited Tue 16 Sep 2025 04:01AM UTC
  
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2. 1. asexualautistic on Chapter 1 Tue 16 Sep 2025 04:11AM UTC
    
    I honestly didn't expect to get a reply so fast!
    I'm on chapter 6 already (again), and it still hurts (this is good). You're a great writer, and these little gay dudes are gonna be the death of me.
    
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