In Which Team TARDIS Bids Farewell to Two Airborne Officers
Yes, I know it's been a long time since I've posted a chapter of this but the "Band of Brothers"/"Doctor Who" crossover lives on. It lives and, in fact, draws closer to the end. I know, promises, promises. But this really is the penultimate installment. After this there's only one more chapter and then we're done with this saga. So in the meantime, thank you for reading this much and I'll see you at the end.
Title: Ah, Paris - Part Nine
Author: m_buggie
Fandoms: “Band of Brothers”/ “Doctor Who” crossover
Pairings: hints of Jack/Nixon, one-sided Jack/Winters, eventual Nixon/Winters, vaguely implied Jack/Doctor, mentions of Nixon/Cathy
Word Count: 1,805 for Part Nine
Rating: PG
Standard Disclaimer: This is based off performances in the HBO miniseries, not the actual soldiers. The only thing I own is the computer I wrote this on. I make no profit so please don’t sue.
Author’s Note: All things are AU and there is very little continuity with storylines from either series. Really, this is nothing more than an excuse to throw the characters together and incorporate some of ladyames’ Christmas drabble prompts. Theoretically takes place during the events of “Crossroads,” operating in a timeline where Nixon went to Paris with Winters…and ran into Team TARDIS. Thanks go to melliyna for being an excellent co-conspirator on this, as well. Contains references to Kurt Vonnegut characters.
~x~x~
Points in a timeline: that was how the Doctor saw them.
Richard Winters, Lewis Nixon, Paris, World War II - they were people, places, but beyond that they were all points in a timeline. Some were fixed and some were in flux but they were all a part of history, threads in the greater all-encompassing fabric of time and space. That was how the Doctor saw the universe.
Rose had inquired about the issue a few times before, particularly after accidentally creating a paradox by crossing her own timestream. The Doctor had eventually tried to clarify it all from a Time Lord’s view but the closest he could come was in saying that it was similar to the way Tralfamadorians lived, only without that whole existing in all times simultaneously bit. This explanation turned out to be wholly unhelpful though, since Rose had never even heard of Tralfamadorians, let alone their fourth dimensional habits.
The Doctor sighed a little, remembering those silly little creatures. What were they thinking? Blowing up their universe like that. Some creatures just never learned until it was too late. If the Doctor hadn’t been so bloody busy when it happened, he’d have gone right over there and given that test pilot a stern talking to about not pushing big red buttons that had the power to wipe out a small universe. But as it was, the Doctor had been locked in fierce combat of the highest importance at that moment.
The Time War…the Last Great Time War…the Doctor’s eyes darkened at the memory of it. Captains Winters, Nixon, and Harkness weren’t the only men of war present. The Doctor had fought on the front lines once, led troops into battle. He had killed and maimed and done the unspeakable things that soldiers do in combat when faced with a ruthless and deadly enemy who was devoid of all mercy and possessed the most twisted logic.
The Daleks made Hitler look like a teddy bear.
The Doctor remembered Arcadia where the fighting had been particularly brutal. He was a different man back then but he would never forget that bittersweet surge he felt at charging forward against overwhelming odds in the name of a greater good. The Oncoming Storm, they had called him. He could still feel that part of himself underneath all the cheer and eccentricity, a jagged edge in his soul like broken glass amid the baubles. The Doctor could distract himself all he wanted but he could never forget.
How could anyone forget? The sight of his home world burning as a final sacrifice to secure the destruction of the entire Dalek fleet would be forever carved into the Doctor’s memory. The flames would haunt him until the day he died his final death. Gallifrey was lost forever by his hand. The arcane and powerful Time Lords, all gone now.
All gone…good friends, bitter rivals, family, acquaintances…all gone in the ultimate sacrifice.
So it goes.
The Doctor turned to Capt. Winters and opened his mouth to say something insightful and comforting about the nature of war, love, and loss. Winters looked to him, pale eyes open and expectant. Yet the Time Lord found himself at an utter lack for words. There was nothing to say. Words were paltry things. In the end the Doctor simply pursed his lips and gave the faintest of nods. But Winters - bless the man - mirrored the gesture and returned the sentiment just as earnestly.
Because in the Doctor’s eyes Winters had seen things that he implicitly understood, even if he didn’t fully decipher them. He could see the echo of battlefields in the other man’s soul even though Dr. Smith was supposedly a civilian. He could see the power and resolve of a man who had once been a leader and it was that common bond which spoke louder than any verbalization by any Earth language ever could. The sympathies that Winters could offer weren’t just empty actions, they came from the heart of a man who had seen his fair share of bloodshed yet still carried on…and that was something the Doctor hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was a fellowship of reluctant soldiering and deep responsibility.
The Doctor had a multitude of commonalities with Jack, but Capt. Harkness had his own way of dealing with things that set him aside from the Gallifreyan. Rose had offered comfort and condolences but it was like trying to put a use a cotton ball to mop up an ocean’s worth; and the dear girl had no idea what kind of horror and suffering armed conflict brought with it (well, at least not yet…but the Doctor tries not to think about that). Martha did the best she could and while there were things about him that she succeeded in patching up her expertise lay in other fields so he just had to be content with having her strength to fall back on every now and then. The Doctor admired and appreciated all his companions.
And then there was Richard Winters, who was no companion but made the Doctor feel at peace nonetheless.
Winters and the Doctor moved slowly in the dark to stand side by side on the balcony, shoulders barely touching. Two sets of eyes then turned to the sky in quiet contemplation and unspoken kinship.
After what seemed like an eternity but was, in actuality, no more than a minute or so, the Doctor let out a sigh and remarked, “Ah, Paris.”
The corner of Winters’ mouth twitched and he uttered in the same reserved tone, “Yeah, Paris.”
“At least you could say that you’ve been now, eh, Capt. Winters?”
“There is that. I’m sure it’ll all make for an interesting story if I ever make it back to Pennsylvania.”
“When.”
Winters regarded the Doctor with a raised eyebrow.
“When you make it back to Pennsylvania, not if,” he stated.
That earned a soft smile from the paratrooper. “I appreciate the sentiment but I doubt either of us can say anything on the matter with absolute clarity.”
The Doctor cocked his head to one side, scratching behind an ear. “Oh, you’d be surprised,” he mused. There was another lapse of silence before the Doctor blurted out, “You know, whatever happened in there wasn’t your friend Capt. Nixon’s fault.”
Winters turned to the Time Lord. “How did you…”
“I know Jack well enough to surmise what goes on with him when he gets into a hotel room alone with a handsome young man in uniform,” the Doctor explained. “It’s bothersome and frustrating but it’s just who Jack is.”
The Doctor’s voice took on an odd tone then, it softened into something wistful and perhaps even tinged by regret.
“Try not to take it too personally, Capt. Winters,” he went on to say, “because if it had been you in that room instead of Capt. Nixon the same thing would’ve happened. Jack can’t help himself, really. He’s not like you or I. He’s not like anyone, for that matter…at least no one around these parts.”
The Doctor’s eyes turned back to the stars.
“It’s how he deals with things, you see. It’s how he reminds himself that not only is he still alive but that there’s more to being alive than just muddling through. There’s making connections with people and reveling in whatever peace and joy one can eke out of a physical communion. Jack…Jack has lost more than he lets on and for that I commend him because the sort of stuff that he’s been through has cracked and shattered better men. And it’s only fitting that he find comfort that way, I suppose. We don’t always see eye to eye but I’ve grown rather fond of him over time…but there’s only so much that I can do for him, if anything at all. He wants things. He wants things from me that he thinks he understands but I know better and I’m not going to put him through all that rigmarole just for a moment’s consolation.”
Winters watched in silent reverie. He saw the conflict flickering in the Doctor’s eyes and came to certain realizations - about both Dr. Smith and himself.
“You care about him?” Winters remarked. It was halfway between a statement and a question.
The Doctor dropped his gaze from the heavens and met Winters’ head-on. “Jack is my friend,” he finally said, his voice loaded with more meaning than he was willing to admit to. “He’s one of the few that I’ve still got these days.”
Winters nodded, the corners of his mouth curving in something that wasn’t exactly a smile but expressed warmth nonetheless. “I know that feeling.”
And while it wasn’t clear who moved first it didn’t entirely matter whether one or the other who closed the distance between them because either way that gap disappeared. They were the same height, though the Doctor was less muscled than the paratrooper. The American Army officer was ginger and the Time Lord was not. There were dozens of little similarities and differences between them but none of that mattered because in that moment there was an overwhelming feeling of being kindred.
Somehow, they were the same.
And they held each other close under the Parisian sky, making their own connection while history happened in the world around them. They embraced like brothers at arms and loaned each other strength for whatever hardships would surely come. Yet just as they exhaled in tandem, there came a voice.
“Dick?”
They parted slowly, gathering themselves. Dick Winters turned to face Lewis Nixon, who stood in the balcony doorway with a storm of confusion, agony, and lingering intoxication churning behind his deep brown eyes. Beside him was Jack Harkness, who had fixed on the Doctor with an inscrutable blue stare.
“Well, Capt. Winters,” the Doctor said, “it’s been a pleasure but I think Jack and I are going to call it a night. Have a good evening, Richard, and take care of yourself.”
“Good night, Dr. Smith,” Winters replied as they shook hands. “God go with you, John.”
They smiled, softly and secretively, then released each others’ hands and turned to their respective companions.
“Jack, are you ready?” the Doctor inquired.
Capt. Harkness pursed his lips for a moment, on the brink of either a grimace or a smile. Eventually he just sighed and nodded, looking at Time Lord with fondness. “Of course, Doctor.” He turned to the pair of Airborne officers and shook their hands in turn. “Capt. Nixon, Capt. Winters, it’s been nothing but a pleasure, gentlemen. I hope the two of you have a lovely time together.”
And with that, the Doctor and Jack Harkness departed.
Dick Winters sighed and leaned against the door after closing it behind them. He looked to Lewis Nixon and announced, “Lew, we need to talk…”
The Adventure Thus Far:
Part One - In Which Nixon Gets Hit On by Jack Harkness
An Interlude - Nixon and Winters do Paris
Part Two - In Which the Tenth Doctor Has a Chat with Winters
Part Three - In Which the Quartet Assembles
Part Four - Captain Jack Will Get You High Tonight (even if he’s feeling low)
Part Five - Winters is Not a Wife and Neither is the Tenth Doctor, Thank You Very Much
Part Six - Fun with Hidden Messages
Another Interlude - City Mouse and Country Mouse
Part Seven - Two Paratroopers, an ex-Time Agent, and a Time Lord Walk Into a Parisian Hotel Room
Part Eight - This is How a Heart Breaks
(cross-posted to no_vices)
Title: Ah, Paris - Part Nine
Author: m_buggie
Fandoms: “Band of Brothers”/ “Doctor Who” crossover
Pairings: hints of Jack/Nixon, one-sided Jack/Winters, eventual Nixon/Winters, vaguely implied Jack/Doctor, mentions of Nixon/Cathy
Word Count: 1,805 for Part Nine
Rating: PG
Standard Disclaimer: This is based off performances in the HBO miniseries, not the actual soldiers. The only thing I own is the computer I wrote this on. I make no profit so please don’t sue.
Author’s Note: All things are AU and there is very little continuity with storylines from either series. Really, this is nothing more than an excuse to throw the characters together and incorporate some of ladyames’ Christmas drabble prompts. Theoretically takes place during the events of “Crossroads,” operating in a timeline where Nixon went to Paris with Winters…and ran into Team TARDIS. Thanks go to melliyna for being an excellent co-conspirator on this, as well. Contains references to Kurt Vonnegut characters.
~x~x~
Points in a timeline: that was how the Doctor saw them.
Richard Winters, Lewis Nixon, Paris, World War II - they were people, places, but beyond that they were all points in a timeline. Some were fixed and some were in flux but they were all a part of history, threads in the greater all-encompassing fabric of time and space. That was how the Doctor saw the universe.
Rose had inquired about the issue a few times before, particularly after accidentally creating a paradox by crossing her own timestream. The Doctor had eventually tried to clarify it all from a Time Lord’s view but the closest he could come was in saying that it was similar to the way Tralfamadorians lived, only without that whole existing in all times simultaneously bit. This explanation turned out to be wholly unhelpful though, since Rose had never even heard of Tralfamadorians, let alone their fourth dimensional habits.
The Doctor sighed a little, remembering those silly little creatures. What were they thinking? Blowing up their universe like that. Some creatures just never learned until it was too late. If the Doctor hadn’t been so bloody busy when it happened, he’d have gone right over there and given that test pilot a stern talking to about not pushing big red buttons that had the power to wipe out a small universe. But as it was, the Doctor had been locked in fierce combat of the highest importance at that moment.
The Time War…the Last Great Time War…the Doctor’s eyes darkened at the memory of it. Captains Winters, Nixon, and Harkness weren’t the only men of war present. The Doctor had fought on the front lines once, led troops into battle. He had killed and maimed and done the unspeakable things that soldiers do in combat when faced with a ruthless and deadly enemy who was devoid of all mercy and possessed the most twisted logic.
The Daleks made Hitler look like a teddy bear.
The Doctor remembered Arcadia where the fighting had been particularly brutal. He was a different man back then but he would never forget that bittersweet surge he felt at charging forward against overwhelming odds in the name of a greater good. The Oncoming Storm, they had called him. He could still feel that part of himself underneath all the cheer and eccentricity, a jagged edge in his soul like broken glass amid the baubles. The Doctor could distract himself all he wanted but he could never forget.
How could anyone forget? The sight of his home world burning as a final sacrifice to secure the destruction of the entire Dalek fleet would be forever carved into the Doctor’s memory. The flames would haunt him until the day he died his final death. Gallifrey was lost forever by his hand. The arcane and powerful Time Lords, all gone now.
All gone…good friends, bitter rivals, family, acquaintances…all gone in the ultimate sacrifice.
So it goes.
The Doctor turned to Capt. Winters and opened his mouth to say something insightful and comforting about the nature of war, love, and loss. Winters looked to him, pale eyes open and expectant. Yet the Time Lord found himself at an utter lack for words. There was nothing to say. Words were paltry things. In the end the Doctor simply pursed his lips and gave the faintest of nods. But Winters - bless the man - mirrored the gesture and returned the sentiment just as earnestly.
Because in the Doctor’s eyes Winters had seen things that he implicitly understood, even if he didn’t fully decipher them. He could see the echo of battlefields in the other man’s soul even though Dr. Smith was supposedly a civilian. He could see the power and resolve of a man who had once been a leader and it was that common bond which spoke louder than any verbalization by any Earth language ever could. The sympathies that Winters could offer weren’t just empty actions, they came from the heart of a man who had seen his fair share of bloodshed yet still carried on…and that was something the Doctor hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was a fellowship of reluctant soldiering and deep responsibility.
The Doctor had a multitude of commonalities with Jack, but Capt. Harkness had his own way of dealing with things that set him aside from the Gallifreyan. Rose had offered comfort and condolences but it was like trying to put a use a cotton ball to mop up an ocean’s worth; and the dear girl had no idea what kind of horror and suffering armed conflict brought with it (well, at least not yet…but the Doctor tries not to think about that). Martha did the best she could and while there were things about him that she succeeded in patching up her expertise lay in other fields so he just had to be content with having her strength to fall back on every now and then. The Doctor admired and appreciated all his companions.
And then there was Richard Winters, who was no companion but made the Doctor feel at peace nonetheless.
Winters and the Doctor moved slowly in the dark to stand side by side on the balcony, shoulders barely touching. Two sets of eyes then turned to the sky in quiet contemplation and unspoken kinship.
After what seemed like an eternity but was, in actuality, no more than a minute or so, the Doctor let out a sigh and remarked, “Ah, Paris.”
The corner of Winters’ mouth twitched and he uttered in the same reserved tone, “Yeah, Paris.”
“At least you could say that you’ve been now, eh, Capt. Winters?”
“There is that. I’m sure it’ll all make for an interesting story if I ever make it back to Pennsylvania.”
“When.”
Winters regarded the Doctor with a raised eyebrow.
“When you make it back to Pennsylvania, not if,” he stated.
That earned a soft smile from the paratrooper. “I appreciate the sentiment but I doubt either of us can say anything on the matter with absolute clarity.”
The Doctor cocked his head to one side, scratching behind an ear. “Oh, you’d be surprised,” he mused. There was another lapse of silence before the Doctor blurted out, “You know, whatever happened in there wasn’t your friend Capt. Nixon’s fault.”
Winters turned to the Time Lord. “How did you…”
“I know Jack well enough to surmise what goes on with him when he gets into a hotel room alone with a handsome young man in uniform,” the Doctor explained. “It’s bothersome and frustrating but it’s just who Jack is.”
The Doctor’s voice took on an odd tone then, it softened into something wistful and perhaps even tinged by regret.
“Try not to take it too personally, Capt. Winters,” he went on to say, “because if it had been you in that room instead of Capt. Nixon the same thing would’ve happened. Jack can’t help himself, really. He’s not like you or I. He’s not like anyone, for that matter…at least no one around these parts.”
The Doctor’s eyes turned back to the stars.
“It’s how he deals with things, you see. It’s how he reminds himself that not only is he still alive but that there’s more to being alive than just muddling through. There’s making connections with people and reveling in whatever peace and joy one can eke out of a physical communion. Jack…Jack has lost more than he lets on and for that I commend him because the sort of stuff that he’s been through has cracked and shattered better men. And it’s only fitting that he find comfort that way, I suppose. We don’t always see eye to eye but I’ve grown rather fond of him over time…but there’s only so much that I can do for him, if anything at all. He wants things. He wants things from me that he thinks he understands but I know better and I’m not going to put him through all that rigmarole just for a moment’s consolation.”
Winters watched in silent reverie. He saw the conflict flickering in the Doctor’s eyes and came to certain realizations - about both Dr. Smith and himself.
“You care about him?” Winters remarked. It was halfway between a statement and a question.
The Doctor dropped his gaze from the heavens and met Winters’ head-on. “Jack is my friend,” he finally said, his voice loaded with more meaning than he was willing to admit to. “He’s one of the few that I’ve still got these days.”
Winters nodded, the corners of his mouth curving in something that wasn’t exactly a smile but expressed warmth nonetheless. “I know that feeling.”
And while it wasn’t clear who moved first it didn’t entirely matter whether one or the other who closed the distance between them because either way that gap disappeared. They were the same height, though the Doctor was less muscled than the paratrooper. The American Army officer was ginger and the Time Lord was not. There were dozens of little similarities and differences between them but none of that mattered because in that moment there was an overwhelming feeling of being kindred.
Somehow, they were the same.
And they held each other close under the Parisian sky, making their own connection while history happened in the world around them. They embraced like brothers at arms and loaned each other strength for whatever hardships would surely come. Yet just as they exhaled in tandem, there came a voice.
“Dick?”
They parted slowly, gathering themselves. Dick Winters turned to face Lewis Nixon, who stood in the balcony doorway with a storm of confusion, agony, and lingering intoxication churning behind his deep brown eyes. Beside him was Jack Harkness, who had fixed on the Doctor with an inscrutable blue stare.
“Well, Capt. Winters,” the Doctor said, “it’s been a pleasure but I think Jack and I are going to call it a night. Have a good evening, Richard, and take care of yourself.”
“Good night, Dr. Smith,” Winters replied as they shook hands. “God go with you, John.”
They smiled, softly and secretively, then released each others’ hands and turned to their respective companions.
“Jack, are you ready?” the Doctor inquired.
Capt. Harkness pursed his lips for a moment, on the brink of either a grimace or a smile. Eventually he just sighed and nodded, looking at Time Lord with fondness. “Of course, Doctor.” He turned to the pair of Airborne officers and shook their hands in turn. “Capt. Nixon, Capt. Winters, it’s been nothing but a pleasure, gentlemen. I hope the two of you have a lovely time together.”
And with that, the Doctor and Jack Harkness departed.
Dick Winters sighed and leaned against the door after closing it behind them. He looked to Lewis Nixon and announced, “Lew, we need to talk…”
The Adventure Thus Far:
Part One - In Which Nixon Gets Hit On by Jack Harkness
An Interlude - Nixon and Winters do Paris
Part Two - In Which the Tenth Doctor Has a Chat with Winters
Part Three - In Which the Quartet Assembles
Part Four - Captain Jack Will Get You High Tonight (even if he’s feeling low)
Part Five - Winters is Not a Wife and Neither is the Tenth Doctor, Thank You Very Much
Part Six - Fun with Hidden Messages
Another Interlude - City Mouse and Country Mouse
Part Seven - Two Paratroopers, an ex-Time Agent, and a Time Lord Walk Into a Parisian Hotel Room
Part Eight - This is How a Heart Breaks
(cross-posted to no_vices)