A Shift in Perspective (9/10)
Who_Daily Link: < a href="http://persiflage-1.livejournal.com/174787.html"> A Shift in Perspective (9/10) by < lj user=persiflage_1> (Characters: Martha, First Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Black Guardian, Torchwood Team | Rating: PG | Spoilers: The War Machines)
Title: A Shift in Perspective (9/10)
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha, First Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Black Guardian, Torchwood Team, Others
Rating: PG (Rated for violence)
Spoilers: The War Machines
Summary: The Tenth Doctor goes missing and it's up to Martha Jones to track him down again, but it proves both harder and more instructive than she expects.
Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!
Author Notes: This is the ninth chapter in a ten chapter story that's set a couple of months after S4.
Many thanks to my Beta readers for this chapter: laura_luvage, ladymako71, and most especially shadowturquoise, who has done sterling work in making sure this didn't utterly suck!
Index Post
~~~~~~
Martha's next jump landed her in a street in daylight a short distance away from a very familiar blue box in front of which a white-haired older man, wearing a cloak and a hat, was pacing to and fro. He reminded her, vaguely, of Professor Dumbledore in the first Harry Potter film; his expression, however, was far from benign. In fact he looked grumpy and impatient, and she wondered if he was waiting for his companion or companions.
She moved towards him, thinking it was just as well she hadn't landed any closer or she might have given him a heart failure; she was surprised that he hadn't reacted to her abrupt appearance as most of the people she had met on her 'quest' had done.
Just as Martha was about to speak to the Doctor, he span around, startling her as she hadn't expected him to move so quickly.
"Just who are you, hmm?" he asked, his long-fingered hands clutching the lapels of the jacket he wore beneath his cloak. His expression was fierce and haughty, but she could see that for all his body looked old, his eyes betrayed his comparative youth to those of his later incarnations whom she had met.
"Well, child? You spring out of nowhere and come creeping up on me, did you think to mug an old man?"
"Hello Doctor." She held out a hand. "I'm Dr Martha Jones, a future companion of yours."
He looked her up and down, his posture stiff and his expression stern, and he made no move to shake hands with her.
"Can you prove that child?" he demanded, clearly unwillingly to simply accept that she was who she claimed to be.
Martha lowered her hand. "Well, I know that's not a real police box," she answered, gesturing behind him. "It's actually a TARDIS from Gallifrey, and it travels in Time and Space. TARDIS stands for Time and Relative Dimension In Space, and she's much bigger on the inside than the outside."
"Hmm, yes, well that much is true, and it's hard to see how you would know that if you hadn't met me. Of course, that does not preclude you being a spy."
She frowned. She hadn't anticipated that he wouldn't believe her once she had revealed that she knew about the TARDIS.
"Suppose you explain what you're doing here, and just how you managed to appear out of thin air, hmm?"
She shrugged. "The short version is that I'm searching for your tenth incarnation, he was kidnapped by someone 'for revenge'. I've been travelling through Time and Space using this." She lifted her sleeve and showed him Jack's wrist computer. "It belongs to another companion of yours who is from much further in the future than I am. The advanced technology it contains means that I can manipulate the Vortex to reach you at different points in your life, so I have now met all of your later incarnations."
She noticed a flare of interest in his eyes before he frowned. "This is an interesting tale," he conceded. "Perhaps you had better come into the ship and tell me more. But don't think of trying any tricks, if you are not who you say you are."
He turned and unlocked the door, ignoring the 'Out of Order' sign on it, then gestured for Martha to enter ahead of him.
She walked in, feeling a little more wary than she usually did when entering the TARDIS, but relaxed when she heard the ship hum in greeting. She crossed to the console and ran a finger along the edge, murmuring a greeting of her own in response.
When Martha looked up again she saw the Doctor had hung up his cloak and hat on the coat stand and she smiled; this was the first time that she had seen it used for its proper purpose.
"The ship knows you," he observed, and she saw that he looked a lot less stern now.
She nodded. "She's looked after me a few times."
"You had better sit down and tell me this story of yours in full."
He moved across to sit in an ordinary upright chair nearby, and Martha sat down next to him. This version of the Control Room seemed the most stark and unhomely of the various versions she had seen, and she wondered idly if it was the influence of the humans who travelled in the TARDIS that caused the changes, or if it was down to the Doctor's or the ship's preferences.
"You may begin your story when you are ready," he told her, interrupting her musings.
Martha gave herself a mental shake, then began to explain about the Doctor's kidnapping in Cardiff, and how she had resolved to go after him with the aid of Jack's wrist computer.
"I would like a closer look at that device," the Doctor said.
She unstrapped it and handed it over, then watched as he pulled out a pair of glasses and put them on to examine the wrist computer more closely. She explained about her first encounter with his third incarnation, and then how she had met him a second time and he had realised the necessity of adjusting the settings so that she only met each incarnation once.
"Yes, yes, a simple matter of refining the DNA data so that the bio-signature algorithms are focused to ignore that specific engram when searching the Vortex. It's all quite simple, really, and rather elegant too." He grasped his lapels as he spoke. "It is good to know that I do not lose my touch when I am older."
He got up and moved over to the console, where he began fiddling with the controls before he hooked up the wrist computer, and Martha watched him work, amused by his almost childlike glee and satisfaction; she was reminded again that this was the Doctor at his youngest, for all that some of the later incarnations (the fifth in particular) inhabited young-looking bodies, they were all centuries older that this old-looking Time Lord. It was an odd thought, but she found herself warming to him as she was reminded of her brother Leo trying to look more grown-up when he was in his mid-teens.
The Doctor brought Jack's device back to her and sat back down again. "Now tell me about my later selves," he requested, looking rather friendlier than he had so far.
On Skra
The Doctor woke with a jolt from a dream about Martha almost throwing up on his seventh incarnation's shoes, to find Slavin dumping a tray of food inside the door of his cell. He waited until Slavin had gone, then pulled himself slowly and carefully to his feet, trying not to wince at every stab of pain. He put his right hand on the wall, feeling the need for some support, then stepped forward, only to have his leg buckle underneath him; he crashed to the floor with a yell of agony as his abused body met the hard stone.
He lay there, panting desperately, feeling as if his whole body was on fire, and wished that he could regenerate; that thought had terrified him when it had first occurred to him that Slavin might torture him to death, but now he felt it would be a welcome relief.
The Doctor wasn't sure how long he lay there, but eventually the agonising pain subsided to a more bearable level and he began a painstaking crawl across the floor, aware that the food wasn't really worth the expenditure of energy, but equally aware he needed to eat, however meagre its sustenance might be.
Once he reached the tray, he dragged himself into a sitting position and began to eat the lukewarm gruel and tasteless bread; swallowing had become painful since he had screamed his throat raw during Slavin's torture sessions. He tried not to think about that, instead he forced himself to focus on the meeting between Martha and his seventh incarnation amidst yet another of his encounters with the Daleks and Davros. He felt incredibly grateful for his seventh self's habit of keeping his own counsel since that meant Martha had known nothing of what he was dealing with at that point in Time.
He remembered, too, how she'd carefully avoided asking him about the reasons for his sixth incarnation's parting with Evelyn. Martha had become very adept at knowing when to push him to talk and when to respect his need for space, and he decided that if they both survived this ordeal, he was going to talk to her properly, not just about Evelyn, but about his other companions whom she had been meeting during her search for him. She deserved to know, and he was done with holding back information. She had earned his trust so long ago, but there was so much he'd been too scared to tell her. He now realised how stupid he'd been in that respect: Martha had continued to care deeply about him, despite the way he'd treated her when she'd been travelling with him, and it was past time that he showed her his appreciation for that concern.
He fleetingly wondered if she would still like him after he regenerated, then chided himself: she had liked all his earlier incarnations, so there was no reason to suppose she wouldn't like his eleventh self as well. Perhaps he would actually be ginger this time? His thoughts skittered away from a memory of Donna tossing her red hair over her shoulder - best not to think of the indomitable Donna Noble, though she was his better half.
The TARDIS, Earth
"Where would you like me to start?" asked Martha.
"Tell me about my selves in the order that you have met them," the Doctor instructed. "You said you first knew my tenth incarnation. Is he an old man?"
"Not to look at," she answered. "Well, a young-ish looking body, but he has old eyes, full of centuries of experiences, not all of them good." She hesitated. "Your other selves have all impressed upon me the importance of not knowing too much about the future, especially your own - "
"Yes, yes," he interrupted impatiently. "I will be sure to forget seeing you, once you are gone."
Martha nodded, then began to tell him about her first encounter with his tenth self in the hospital where she had been working as a medical student. The Doctor wanted a minute description of his tenth incarnation's appearance and mannerisms, and seemed puzzled to learn of his taste in clothes.
It was soon obvious, however, that he approved of his third incarnation's choices, and he became quite enthusiastic when Martha mentioned Bessie, his bright yellow vintage car. He was less happy when he learned that his ninth self sported a leather jacket, jeans and a severe hairstyle, muttering something about the follies of old age and about hair being one's crowning glory. She was fairly sure that old adage was usually only applied to women, but refrained from saying so; for all she liked this Doctor, he seemed somewhat impatient, even irascible at times. For her part, she couldn't help wondering if his ninth incarnation's appearance was some form of self-abasement for his part in the Time War, particularly when she considered the appearance of his eighth incarnation.
"And who was next?" he asked, interrupting Martha's reverie.
"Your fifth incarnation, who looks the youngest of you, and he favoured a cricketing outfit, with a stick of celery on the lapel of his jacket and - "
"Celery?" interrupted the Time Lord disbelievingly.
She nodded. "I don't know why."
"It seems to me that some of my older selves are rather frivolous," he observed, rather disdainfully.
"Martha shrugged. "Your eighth incarnation looked like an Edwardian gentleman," she offered, then described his appearance in detail."
"Hmm, well my attire sounds respectable," he observed, "but long curly hair is not really necessary."
She resisted the temptation to retort that she had liked his eighth incarnation's long curly hair, but then she had liked him in every respect; he seemed gentle and very caring, but there was also the knowledge that he had been the one involved in the Time War. That intrigued her, just as the ninth incarnation had intrigued her because he was the survivor of that cataclysm; she had wanted to travel with him, wanted to help him to heal, which she felt sure was arrogance on her part since she didn't know that Rose hadn't helped him to heal.
"Your second incarnation was next," she told the Doctor. "A little man with a Beatles-style haircut and a rather shabby appearance."
He tutted disapprovingly, but she couldn't help smiling fondly at the remembrance of his earnest expression, and the way his second incarnation had looked after her when she had been shot; she'd appreciated his concern for her.
"I don't think your third self cared much for your second either," Martha confided. "He was a bit scornful, calling him foolish and a space hobo."
"That seems a little uncalled for, hmm?"
She nodded. "I liked him," she said, then laughed softly. "I like every one of you. These meetings with you have been a very interesting experience."
"Good." He sounded quite satisfied, she thought.
"And what of the next me you met?" asked the Doctor.
"Oh, he was a bit grumpy when we first met, actually. That was your fourth incarnation, and he hadn't long regenerated. He was a bit tetchy as a result, and that was made worse by the fact that your third self hadn't erased his memories of meeting me, and your second incarnation hadn't erased his companions' memories either."
"Have I said if regeneration is painful?" he asked.
If he hadn't been the Doctor, she might have suspected he was nervous about the prospect; as it was, she just assumed he was merely curious, never having experienced it yet.
"I don't know," Martha said honestly, "but I would imagine it depends on what causes the regeneration. Given that the reason for you regenerating, as I understand it, is that your current body is going to die, I think it must be at least a little traumatic."
"True, child, very true." His expression became thoughtful and she wondered if she should try to reassure him, or if he would find that intrusive.
Present Day Cardiff
Jack was sitting in his office, considering what little information they had been able to gather about the Black Guardian. Ianto hadn't been able to find out anything about the White Guardian, but a little judicious digging in UNIT's files had pulled up a brief report that had been submitted by Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart (Rtd) regarding an incident involving the Black Guardian, a schoolboy named Turlough, two women named Tegan and Nyssa, and a young-looking blond version of the Doctor. Jack had found the account fascinating, but infuriatingly vague on the details that most interested him. He was very curious about the White Guardian, not least because he had appeared to know Jack, yet this was the first time Jack had met him in his personal timeline. He didn't know if this meant that the White Guardian was omniscient, or if this was not their first meeting from the White Guardian's point of view.
His phone rang, startling him out of his ponderings and he checked the caller ID, then smiled as he answered it.
"Sarah Jane Smith," he said warmly, "what can I do for you?"
"I just wanted to let you know that I'm about to drive down to Cardiff," she told him. "Luke's staying with a friend, so I'll be with you in a couple of hours."
"I don't think - " began Jack, but she interrupted him.
"I didn't ring to ask your opinion, Captain, but to tell you to expect me. Martha and the Doctor are my friends, too, and they might need my help."
"Yes ma'am." Somehow he wasn't surprised that Sarah Jane was taking this attitude.
"Provided the traffic's reasonable, I should be with you no later than six," she told him. "Now, where's the best place to park?"
Jack told her, and promised that he or one of the others would meet her at the car park.
"I do have some more news to share with you," he said.
"Tell me when I get there," Sarah Jane said, "because I'm assuming you don't mean that they're back?"
"No, sorry."
"Thought not. I'll see you later then."
"Looking forward to it," he answered warmly.
Sarah Jane hung up and Jack hurried out of his office to let Gwen and Ianto know they were having another visitor.
After Jack had told them him the news, Ianto said, "I had a thought. Would there be any information in the TARDIS about the Guardians?"
The immortal man grabbed his shoulders and planted a smacking kiss on his forehead. "Brilliant! Why didn't I think of that?"
Ianto shrugged. "We're all tired and stressed?" he suggested.
"Yeah. Okay, I'm gonna go and see if the TARDIS can help. Let me know if anything comes up, otherwise I'll be back by the time Sarah Jane gets here."
Ianto nodded and watched as Jack hurried out.
"Where's Jack going?" asked Gwen, seeing him leaving through the cog door. She'd been down to the armoury to check their weapons and had missed the conversation. Ianto explained, and then told her that Sarah Jane was on her way.
"Doesn't Jack trust this White Guardian bloke then?" she asked.
"I don't think it's that he doesn't trust him, more that he doesn't know anything about him. You know what Jack's like."
"He's probably just desperate for something to do, more than anything," Gwen observed. "You know how he hates inactivity."
Ianto nodded, then went to make some fresh coffee.
Jack let himself into the TARDIS and felt her mind touch his. "Sorry, sweetheart, he's not back yet and I don't know when he will be, but soon I hope. I miss him and Martha, just like you do."
He walked around the console to the monitor, and set to work to look for any references to the White Guardian.
The TARDIS, Earth
"The next incarnation was the sixth," Martha said. "He had curly, blond hair and favoured a coat made of multi-coloured patches." The Doctor grimaced and she laughed. "It was a bit overpowering," she agreed.
"I hope the rest of my attire was more subdued," he said, a little caustically.
"Well, no, not really. He wore yellow trousers with black stripes and a blue tie with white polka dots."
"Was I colour-blind in that incarnation?" asked the Doctor.
"Not that I'm aware of," Martha answered. She changed the subject since he looked deeply unimpressed, and talked of the surgery the sixth Doctor had carried out on her, and also of his friendship with Evelyn.
"And what of my seventh incarnation?" he asked. "He's the only other one you have not mentioned."
"He was very sweet," she said. "He fed me a very tasty stew and let me sleep for eight hours because I was still feeling rather rough after the surgery." She thought back to the neat way the seventh incarnation had got her to do what he wanted without argument. "He was a bit manipulative," she added, "but not in a nasty way."
"And how do I look in my seventh body?"
"He had a black umbrella with a red, question mark shaped handle, and question marks on his jumper," she answered. "Otherwise his clothes were conventional: a short, light-coloured coat, a straw boater, a grey silk scarf, brown checked trousers and a white shirt with a red tie. Oh, and he wore brown and white shoes. He was a little taller than me, with sharp grey eyes and short brown hair."
"Why the question marks?" asked the Doctor.
She laughed. "He said people were always asking him who he was, and he was always asking questions of his own."
"Tch. Such foolishness," he said dismissively. He fingered his lapels, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"It is good to know that I shall be around for a long time yet, even if my fashion sense is occasionally deplorable. I am grateful to you, child, for telling me all this, but now I think you must be on your way, as must I."
He got up and Martha stood too. "Thank you for reprogramming Jack's wrist computer."
"Hmm, yes, well, it was the least I could do in the circumstances, wouldn't you say? You should find my latest self the next time you use the device. Just be careful when you do."
"I will. Thank you." She shook hands with him, then followed him out onto the street.
He gave her a nod, which she returned, and then she made the jump.
Title: A Shift in Perspective (9/10)
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha, First Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Black Guardian, Torchwood Team, Others
Rating: PG (Rated for violence)
Spoilers: The War Machines
Summary: The Tenth Doctor goes missing and it's up to Martha Jones to track him down again, but it proves both harder and more instructive than she expects.
Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!
Author Notes: This is the ninth chapter in a ten chapter story that's set a couple of months after S4.
Many thanks to my Beta readers for this chapter: laura_luvage, ladymako71, and most especially shadowturquoise, who has done sterling work in making sure this didn't utterly suck!
Index Post
~~~~~~
Martha's next jump landed her in a street in daylight a short distance away from a very familiar blue box in front of which a white-haired older man, wearing a cloak and a hat, was pacing to and fro. He reminded her, vaguely, of Professor Dumbledore in the first Harry Potter film; his expression, however, was far from benign. In fact he looked grumpy and impatient, and she wondered if he was waiting for his companion or companions.
She moved towards him, thinking it was just as well she hadn't landed any closer or she might have given him a heart failure; she was surprised that he hadn't reacted to her abrupt appearance as most of the people she had met on her 'quest' had done.
Just as Martha was about to speak to the Doctor, he span around, startling her as she hadn't expected him to move so quickly.
"Just who are you, hmm?" he asked, his long-fingered hands clutching the lapels of the jacket he wore beneath his cloak. His expression was fierce and haughty, but she could see that for all his body looked old, his eyes betrayed his comparative youth to those of his later incarnations whom she had met.
"Well, child? You spring out of nowhere and come creeping up on me, did you think to mug an old man?"
"Hello Doctor." She held out a hand. "I'm Dr Martha Jones, a future companion of yours."
He looked her up and down, his posture stiff and his expression stern, and he made no move to shake hands with her.
"Can you prove that child?" he demanded, clearly unwillingly to simply accept that she was who she claimed to be.
Martha lowered her hand. "Well, I know that's not a real police box," she answered, gesturing behind him. "It's actually a TARDIS from Gallifrey, and it travels in Time and Space. TARDIS stands for Time and Relative Dimension In Space, and she's much bigger on the inside than the outside."
"Hmm, yes, well that much is true, and it's hard to see how you would know that if you hadn't met me. Of course, that does not preclude you being a spy."
She frowned. She hadn't anticipated that he wouldn't believe her once she had revealed that she knew about the TARDIS.
"Suppose you explain what you're doing here, and just how you managed to appear out of thin air, hmm?"
She shrugged. "The short version is that I'm searching for your tenth incarnation, he was kidnapped by someone 'for revenge'. I've been travelling through Time and Space using this." She lifted her sleeve and showed him Jack's wrist computer. "It belongs to another companion of yours who is from much further in the future than I am. The advanced technology it contains means that I can manipulate the Vortex to reach you at different points in your life, so I have now met all of your later incarnations."
She noticed a flare of interest in his eyes before he frowned. "This is an interesting tale," he conceded. "Perhaps you had better come into the ship and tell me more. But don't think of trying any tricks, if you are not who you say you are."
He turned and unlocked the door, ignoring the 'Out of Order' sign on it, then gestured for Martha to enter ahead of him.
She walked in, feeling a little more wary than she usually did when entering the TARDIS, but relaxed when she heard the ship hum in greeting. She crossed to the console and ran a finger along the edge, murmuring a greeting of her own in response.
When Martha looked up again she saw the Doctor had hung up his cloak and hat on the coat stand and she smiled; this was the first time that she had seen it used for its proper purpose.
"The ship knows you," he observed, and she saw that he looked a lot less stern now.
She nodded. "She's looked after me a few times."
"You had better sit down and tell me this story of yours in full."
He moved across to sit in an ordinary upright chair nearby, and Martha sat down next to him. This version of the Control Room seemed the most stark and unhomely of the various versions she had seen, and she wondered idly if it was the influence of the humans who travelled in the TARDIS that caused the changes, or if it was down to the Doctor's or the ship's preferences.
"You may begin your story when you are ready," he told her, interrupting her musings.
Martha gave herself a mental shake, then began to explain about the Doctor's kidnapping in Cardiff, and how she had resolved to go after him with the aid of Jack's wrist computer.
"I would like a closer look at that device," the Doctor said.
She unstrapped it and handed it over, then watched as he pulled out a pair of glasses and put them on to examine the wrist computer more closely. She explained about her first encounter with his third incarnation, and then how she had met him a second time and he had realised the necessity of adjusting the settings so that she only met each incarnation once.
"Yes, yes, a simple matter of refining the DNA data so that the bio-signature algorithms are focused to ignore that specific engram when searching the Vortex. It's all quite simple, really, and rather elegant too." He grasped his lapels as he spoke. "It is good to know that I do not lose my touch when I am older."
He got up and moved over to the console, where he began fiddling with the controls before he hooked up the wrist computer, and Martha watched him work, amused by his almost childlike glee and satisfaction; she was reminded again that this was the Doctor at his youngest, for all that some of the later incarnations (the fifth in particular) inhabited young-looking bodies, they were all centuries older that this old-looking Time Lord. It was an odd thought, but she found herself warming to him as she was reminded of her brother Leo trying to look more grown-up when he was in his mid-teens.
The Doctor brought Jack's device back to her and sat back down again. "Now tell me about my later selves," he requested, looking rather friendlier than he had so far.
On Skra
The Doctor woke with a jolt from a dream about Martha almost throwing up on his seventh incarnation's shoes, to find Slavin dumping a tray of food inside the door of his cell. He waited until Slavin had gone, then pulled himself slowly and carefully to his feet, trying not to wince at every stab of pain. He put his right hand on the wall, feeling the need for some support, then stepped forward, only to have his leg buckle underneath him; he crashed to the floor with a yell of agony as his abused body met the hard stone.
He lay there, panting desperately, feeling as if his whole body was on fire, and wished that he could regenerate; that thought had terrified him when it had first occurred to him that Slavin might torture him to death, but now he felt it would be a welcome relief.
The Doctor wasn't sure how long he lay there, but eventually the agonising pain subsided to a more bearable level and he began a painstaking crawl across the floor, aware that the food wasn't really worth the expenditure of energy, but equally aware he needed to eat, however meagre its sustenance might be.
Once he reached the tray, he dragged himself into a sitting position and began to eat the lukewarm gruel and tasteless bread; swallowing had become painful since he had screamed his throat raw during Slavin's torture sessions. He tried not to think about that, instead he forced himself to focus on the meeting between Martha and his seventh incarnation amidst yet another of his encounters with the Daleks and Davros. He felt incredibly grateful for his seventh self's habit of keeping his own counsel since that meant Martha had known nothing of what he was dealing with at that point in Time.
He remembered, too, how she'd carefully avoided asking him about the reasons for his sixth incarnation's parting with Evelyn. Martha had become very adept at knowing when to push him to talk and when to respect his need for space, and he decided that if they both survived this ordeal, he was going to talk to her properly, not just about Evelyn, but about his other companions whom she had been meeting during her search for him. She deserved to know, and he was done with holding back information. She had earned his trust so long ago, but there was so much he'd been too scared to tell her. He now realised how stupid he'd been in that respect: Martha had continued to care deeply about him, despite the way he'd treated her when she'd been travelling with him, and it was past time that he showed her his appreciation for that concern.
He fleetingly wondered if she would still like him after he regenerated, then chided himself: she had liked all his earlier incarnations, so there was no reason to suppose she wouldn't like his eleventh self as well. Perhaps he would actually be ginger this time? His thoughts skittered away from a memory of Donna tossing her red hair over her shoulder - best not to think of the indomitable Donna Noble, though she was his better half.
The TARDIS, Earth
"Where would you like me to start?" asked Martha.
"Tell me about my selves in the order that you have met them," the Doctor instructed. "You said you first knew my tenth incarnation. Is he an old man?"
"Not to look at," she answered. "Well, a young-ish looking body, but he has old eyes, full of centuries of experiences, not all of them good." She hesitated. "Your other selves have all impressed upon me the importance of not knowing too much about the future, especially your own - "
"Yes, yes," he interrupted impatiently. "I will be sure to forget seeing you, once you are gone."
Martha nodded, then began to tell him about her first encounter with his tenth self in the hospital where she had been working as a medical student. The Doctor wanted a minute description of his tenth incarnation's appearance and mannerisms, and seemed puzzled to learn of his taste in clothes.
It was soon obvious, however, that he approved of his third incarnation's choices, and he became quite enthusiastic when Martha mentioned Bessie, his bright yellow vintage car. He was less happy when he learned that his ninth self sported a leather jacket, jeans and a severe hairstyle, muttering something about the follies of old age and about hair being one's crowning glory. She was fairly sure that old adage was usually only applied to women, but refrained from saying so; for all she liked this Doctor, he seemed somewhat impatient, even irascible at times. For her part, she couldn't help wondering if his ninth incarnation's appearance was some form of self-abasement for his part in the Time War, particularly when she considered the appearance of his eighth incarnation.
"And who was next?" he asked, interrupting Martha's reverie.
"Your fifth incarnation, who looks the youngest of you, and he favoured a cricketing outfit, with a stick of celery on the lapel of his jacket and - "
"Celery?" interrupted the Time Lord disbelievingly.
She nodded. "I don't know why."
"It seems to me that some of my older selves are rather frivolous," he observed, rather disdainfully.
"Martha shrugged. "Your eighth incarnation looked like an Edwardian gentleman," she offered, then described his appearance in detail."
"Hmm, well my attire sounds respectable," he observed, "but long curly hair is not really necessary."
She resisted the temptation to retort that she had liked his eighth incarnation's long curly hair, but then she had liked him in every respect; he seemed gentle and very caring, but there was also the knowledge that he had been the one involved in the Time War. That intrigued her, just as the ninth incarnation had intrigued her because he was the survivor of that cataclysm; she had wanted to travel with him, wanted to help him to heal, which she felt sure was arrogance on her part since she didn't know that Rose hadn't helped him to heal.
"Your second incarnation was next," she told the Doctor. "A little man with a Beatles-style haircut and a rather shabby appearance."
He tutted disapprovingly, but she couldn't help smiling fondly at the remembrance of his earnest expression, and the way his second incarnation had looked after her when she had been shot; she'd appreciated his concern for her.
"I don't think your third self cared much for your second either," Martha confided. "He was a bit scornful, calling him foolish and a space hobo."
"That seems a little uncalled for, hmm?"
She nodded. "I liked him," she said, then laughed softly. "I like every one of you. These meetings with you have been a very interesting experience."
"Good." He sounded quite satisfied, she thought.
"And what of the next me you met?" asked the Doctor.
"Oh, he was a bit grumpy when we first met, actually. That was your fourth incarnation, and he hadn't long regenerated. He was a bit tetchy as a result, and that was made worse by the fact that your third self hadn't erased his memories of meeting me, and your second incarnation hadn't erased his companions' memories either."
"Have I said if regeneration is painful?" he asked.
If he hadn't been the Doctor, she might have suspected he was nervous about the prospect; as it was, she just assumed he was merely curious, never having experienced it yet.
"I don't know," Martha said honestly, "but I would imagine it depends on what causes the regeneration. Given that the reason for you regenerating, as I understand it, is that your current body is going to die, I think it must be at least a little traumatic."
"True, child, very true." His expression became thoughtful and she wondered if she should try to reassure him, or if he would find that intrusive.
Present Day Cardiff
Jack was sitting in his office, considering what little information they had been able to gather about the Black Guardian. Ianto hadn't been able to find out anything about the White Guardian, but a little judicious digging in UNIT's files had pulled up a brief report that had been submitted by Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart (Rtd) regarding an incident involving the Black Guardian, a schoolboy named Turlough, two women named Tegan and Nyssa, and a young-looking blond version of the Doctor. Jack had found the account fascinating, but infuriatingly vague on the details that most interested him. He was very curious about the White Guardian, not least because he had appeared to know Jack, yet this was the first time Jack had met him in his personal timeline. He didn't know if this meant that the White Guardian was omniscient, or if this was not their first meeting from the White Guardian's point of view.
His phone rang, startling him out of his ponderings and he checked the caller ID, then smiled as he answered it.
"Sarah Jane Smith," he said warmly, "what can I do for you?"
"I just wanted to let you know that I'm about to drive down to Cardiff," she told him. "Luke's staying with a friend, so I'll be with you in a couple of hours."
"I don't think - " began Jack, but she interrupted him.
"I didn't ring to ask your opinion, Captain, but to tell you to expect me. Martha and the Doctor are my friends, too, and they might need my help."
"Yes ma'am." Somehow he wasn't surprised that Sarah Jane was taking this attitude.
"Provided the traffic's reasonable, I should be with you no later than six," she told him. "Now, where's the best place to park?"
Jack told her, and promised that he or one of the others would meet her at the car park.
"I do have some more news to share with you," he said.
"Tell me when I get there," Sarah Jane said, "because I'm assuming you don't mean that they're back?"
"No, sorry."
"Thought not. I'll see you later then."
"Looking forward to it," he answered warmly.
Sarah Jane hung up and Jack hurried out of his office to let Gwen and Ianto know they were having another visitor.
After Jack had told them him the news, Ianto said, "I had a thought. Would there be any information in the TARDIS about the Guardians?"
The immortal man grabbed his shoulders and planted a smacking kiss on his forehead. "Brilliant! Why didn't I think of that?"
Ianto shrugged. "We're all tired and stressed?" he suggested.
"Yeah. Okay, I'm gonna go and see if the TARDIS can help. Let me know if anything comes up, otherwise I'll be back by the time Sarah Jane gets here."
Ianto nodded and watched as Jack hurried out.
"Where's Jack going?" asked Gwen, seeing him leaving through the cog door. She'd been down to the armoury to check their weapons and had missed the conversation. Ianto explained, and then told her that Sarah Jane was on her way.
"Doesn't Jack trust this White Guardian bloke then?" she asked.
"I don't think it's that he doesn't trust him, more that he doesn't know anything about him. You know what Jack's like."
"He's probably just desperate for something to do, more than anything," Gwen observed. "You know how he hates inactivity."
Ianto nodded, then went to make some fresh coffee.
Jack let himself into the TARDIS and felt her mind touch his. "Sorry, sweetheart, he's not back yet and I don't know when he will be, but soon I hope. I miss him and Martha, just like you do."
He walked around the console to the monitor, and set to work to look for any references to the White Guardian.
The TARDIS, Earth
"The next incarnation was the sixth," Martha said. "He had curly, blond hair and favoured a coat made of multi-coloured patches." The Doctor grimaced and she laughed. "It was a bit overpowering," she agreed.
"I hope the rest of my attire was more subdued," he said, a little caustically.
"Well, no, not really. He wore yellow trousers with black stripes and a blue tie with white polka dots."
"Was I colour-blind in that incarnation?" asked the Doctor.
"Not that I'm aware of," Martha answered. She changed the subject since he looked deeply unimpressed, and talked of the surgery the sixth Doctor had carried out on her, and also of his friendship with Evelyn.
"And what of my seventh incarnation?" he asked. "He's the only other one you have not mentioned."
"He was very sweet," she said. "He fed me a very tasty stew and let me sleep for eight hours because I was still feeling rather rough after the surgery." She thought back to the neat way the seventh incarnation had got her to do what he wanted without argument. "He was a bit manipulative," she added, "but not in a nasty way."
"And how do I look in my seventh body?"
"He had a black umbrella with a red, question mark shaped handle, and question marks on his jumper," she answered. "Otherwise his clothes were conventional: a short, light-coloured coat, a straw boater, a grey silk scarf, brown checked trousers and a white shirt with a red tie. Oh, and he wore brown and white shoes. He was a little taller than me, with sharp grey eyes and short brown hair."
"Why the question marks?" asked the Doctor.
She laughed. "He said people were always asking him who he was, and he was always asking questions of his own."
"Tch. Such foolishness," he said dismissively. He fingered his lapels, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"It is good to know that I shall be around for a long time yet, even if my fashion sense is occasionally deplorable. I am grateful to you, child, for telling me all this, but now I think you must be on your way, as must I."
He got up and Martha stood too. "Thank you for reprogramming Jack's wrist computer."
"Hmm, yes, well, it was the least I could do in the circumstances, wouldn't you say? You should find my latest self the next time you use the device. Just be careful when you do."
"I will. Thank you." She shook hands with him, then followed him out onto the street.
He gave her a nod, which she returned, and then she made the jump.