Fic: Pinstripes & Jacquard ‘Verse, Chapter 23: Here Today, Gone Tomorrow
Title: Pinstripes & Jacquard ‘Verse, Chapter 23: Here Today, Gone Tomorrow
Author: psyfi_geekgirl
BetaBabe: akkajemo
Characters/Pairings: Twelfth Doctor, River, Jack, Donna
Rating: PG-13
Excerpt: He was disturbed about this new plan of hers, and he knew she was tired of arguing with him about it. She had already shouted him down over tea the night before. He’d clammed up since then. River, on the other hand, was missing entirely.
Word count: 4,261
Disclaimer: Until she’s Jossed, Twelve is mine-but of course, based entirely on stuff that ain’t mine… All hail Auntie Beeb!
A/N: Continuing Part II of Girl in the Mirror ‘Verse. Which, if you haven’t read yet, will give you important backstory and character details which are essential to this ‘verse (the link to the GitM masterlist is provided below). This series is a sort of Season Two. Also written before the end of DW season 6, so some details have gone AU.
Part I: Girl in the Mirror ‘Verse Masterlist
Part II: Pinstripes & Jacquard ‘Verse
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9
Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17
Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22
The group of Torchwood operatives arriving for their morning work shifts calmly took note of the mysterious and peculiar (but now familiar) figure of the Twelfth Doctor as she hunched over a worktable hacking some odd smorgasbord of tech junk together.
Everyone who worked at Torchwood knew from experience-and orders from Captain Harkness-that the Doctor (no matter what incarnation he/she inhabited) was to be given carte blanche whilst on the premises. The Doctor was also entitled to whatever equipment, manpower or information she required-and that included anything sequestered within their vaults of alien “lost and found” items. She had the highest security clearances, could access even the most restricted of areas and could roam unimpeded into every crevice of the building, no questions asked. Also, and most importantly-all Torchwood Operatives were given this final set of directives from their Captain: Only speak when spoken to, and protect the person of the Doctor at all costs…
So, operatives simply took note of her presence, kept out of her way, and stood surreptitiously on High Alert. Because they also knew from experience that anything could happen whilst the Doctor was in-house…
Just now the Doctor was hard at work putting the finishing touches on her latest project. Lying on the floor next to her was a metal, person-sized box, to which she was welding a door that was made from a large scrap of TARDIS siding. With her welding visor only halfway shoved on, her irregular haircut was pushed up at odd angles, giving her more the appearance of a demented Mister Wizard. And the arch silver streak in her hair did nothing to diminish the Halloweenish Mad Scientist caricature.
An arc of random ultraviolet sparks rained onto the white linoleum from her efforts as Captain Jack Harkness walked by with his morning coffee. He did a double take. The thing she was making looked curiously like a large metal coffin with a door.
He stood at a safe distance, cocked his head at the strange object, and put one hand on his hip in contemplation. It made him uneasy.
The Twelfth Doctor worked on, hair askew, hot embers showering the floor, totally engrossed in her task.
She’d been at it all night.
Sleep didn’t mean much to her-she’d just been dead-why sleep now?
After cleaning up the night before, she’d redressed in her usual attire… minus one black coat.
The building shuddered again.
She, like everyone else, continued to ignore the frequent seismic activity-the “bubbles in the batter” of time, undoubtedly caused by the Valeyard’s selfish meddling…
They knew the Valeyard was messing with time. They figured he was attempting to find the Matrix. What they didn’t know was precisely how much of the past he had changed, how close he was to finishing the job, and at which theoretically remaining extradimensional Matrix portal Ten was currently.
And, as usual, Twelve had a two-pronged plan: Stop the Valeyard from mucking about more drastically with the time continuum-and, assuming he had discovered an access portal to the Matrix-reestablish a link with Gallifrey.
Once she was done with her welding, she turned the torch off and surveyed her project with satisfaction, noting to herself that unlike many previous incarnations, she had managed to do the job without any small explosions…
Earlier in the evening she’d also constructed a Psycho-Telemetric Circuit out of other old TARDIS scraps they’d found on House. It was very small, about the size of an iPod, and sat on the table next to her, the surface of which was festooned with irregular lengths and colours of wires, a soldering gun, various metal scraps and circuits of questionable, alien origin.
Finally noticing Jack, the Doctor pulled up the visor of her welding helmet, and greeted him cheerily: “Morning!”
Jack only nodded back.
Leaving the large welded piece on the floor, she hastily picked up the iPod-sized Psycho-Telemetric Circuit off the table and excitedly showed him the new gadget. She explained that she would be able to attach it to the super powerful and semi-sentient Torchwood main computer terminal and track a specific strand of DNA through space and time-specifically, the Valeyard’s.
“Since he’s got the same DNA as me we’ll get two hits,” she clarified. “One for me here, and one for him, wherever he is. You’ll even get this snazzy gadget to keep, Jack. I hooked it up with a handy USB cable and everything,” she waved it in front of him. “Very portable! That’s gotta be worth something…”
Jack nodded again, but his reaction lacked his usual enthusiasm and cheek.
Twelve pushed a newly dry glitter lacquered nail under her helmet’s headband to absently scratch her head. She bit her lip and turned away. She knew damn well what he was taciturn about, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Then, having second thoughts about ignoring his demeanor, she turned to face him anyway, “Aww, c’mon, Jack,” she cajoled, waving the device in front of his face, “nothing says ‘I love you’ like alien tech!”
His eyes traveled from the swinging device to her eyes, and Twelve saw emotion reflected in the liquid blue there.
He was disturbed about this new plan of hers, and he knew she was tired of arguing with him about it. She had already shouted him down over tea the night before. He’d clammed up since then.
River, on the other hand, was missing entirely. While she was still somewhere in the complex, the Doctor had no idea where. Still, they’d both agreed to her plan-which is what she’d wanted anyway. In the end, the Doctor always got what the Doctor wanted.
Well, nearly…
Twelve squinted at the unusually mute Captain. “Gosh, say ‘I love you’ and he says nothing,” she teased. “Has anyone told you you’re rather closed emotionally?” She stopped waving the piece of equipment in front of his face. “It’s because of that day at the End Of The Universe, isn’t it? You never could forgive me for being prejudiced…” She flipped the device, caught it and then swiftly pocketed it into her jacquard suit jacket. “Fine. I’ll keep the buggering thing for myself-“
“Don’t do that,” Jack said quietly.
“Fine, then take it,” she said, pulling it out and thrusting the gadget into his chest.
“Don’t do that,” repeated Jack.
“Don’t do what??” She huffed, pushing a piece of hair out of her eyes.
Don’t tell me you love me, Jack thought to himself.
He followed her hand with his eyes as she replaced the stray strands of hair securely behind her ear. His eyes traveled to the side of her head that had recently been disfigured, and surveyed the pinkness of her flesh that had been pasty, cold and lifeless only hours before. He’d almost lost her-had lost her-and for those five hours or so on Gallifrey his whole world had gone dark.
He had finally really connected with the Doctor. This Doctor. Jack had never thought it possible, but for whatever reason, he felt more connected to this incarnation of the Doctor than any of the previous ones. For years he’d felt at arm’s distance, just a tolerated outsider, only to now be allowed a place next to her brilliance-an icy planet swinging its orbit closer to the sun after hundreds of years of being relegated to the deepness of space. But the Twelfth Doctor had shown that she’d respected him, she valued him, she trusted him, she cared about him, and he knew that now.
But it angered him that she’d made him stay behind earlier. If he’d only been allowed to go with them to Gallifrey then perhaps none of this would have happened! Twelve would never have been put in danger, would never have gone through all that pain, and Ten wouldn’t have ended up the Valeyard.
Jack would have willingly taken the bullet for her-and all of this would have been avoided!
And now they had to clean it up.
He also hated this plan of hers.
Still, while she hadn’t let him come to help with the Eighth Doctor, this version of the Doctor hadn’t-and would never-abandon him. She’d said goodbye at least, in her own way.
And that alone was different.
Jack watched those inscrutable brown eyes. There was still so much between them that they hadn’t said.
He swallowed it down.
Some things were just too difficult to say.
He watched the Doctor lost in her own thoughts as she pursed her lips and suddenly he realized that if the situation had been reversed, he would have done the same thing…
In fact, had done the same thing, over and over again and to so many.
Consequently, how could he judge her?
How could he pretend not to understand?
The Earth shook again.
He let his anger go with a sigh. He wasn’t about to be this petty, not with her…
“Nice art project,” Jack said, pointing to the metal coffin-like thing behind her. “What’s with the coffin?” he asked. “I’m thinking… surrealist cubism meets Existential dread?” He snapped his fingers, attempting to fall back into their regular banter. “I’ve got it! It’s a postmodern pastiche on the absurdism of nihilism! ‘God is dead, the Beatles are bigger than Jesus, long live the Queen?’”
“S’not a coffin.
“Okay…” he tilted his head again. “Say I believe you. Then what is it?”
“It’s a extradimensional teleportation module, or ETM for short.”
“I liked ‘coffin’ better…”
She shook her head and lifted the helmet all the way off her head, tossing it aside. “It only looks like a coffin.” She shook out her hair. “Think of it more like a surfboard.”
“A surfboard that will sink to the bottom of the ocean and sit there like Davy Jones’s Locker-which, curiously enough, also looks just like a coffin to me…”
“No, a surfboard that will take one passenger into the heart of the Matrix, once we find it.” She rapped on the metal casing of the box, issuing an echoing metallic bang. “This ETM I made from old TARDIS casings. Rigged into it is also part of the Extended-Range Locator bracelet I wore when you found me. Once we get there-and if all goes according to plan and we stop the Valeyard-I’ll leave the other bracelet inside the Matrix, and bring the ETM to Gallifrey after I get my TARDIS back. Then the box will be able to home in on its other half of the bracelet and transport a single occupant into the Matrix-wherever it is-from Gallifrey!”
Jack opened the door and looked inside the cramped box. “It’s not very bigger on the inside, is it?”
The Doctor sighed in frustration and ran her fingers through her hair, righting her hair-do.
“Hey, it’s fine, it’s great,” appeased Jack, recognising the Doctor had grown tired of his teasing. “An ETM. Sounds fab.” He rolled back and forth on his heels. “I hope the other survivors on Gallifrey appreciate their surfboards and enjoy the ride.” He raised an eyebrow meaningfully, “And that a certain leader of theirs doesn’t get any funny ideas about ruling the cosmos…”
“Don’t worry, he can’t,” reassured the Doctor. “It would take much more than a ticket into the Matrix for the Master to rewrite all of Time.” She scratched her head, "But what that is or how the Valeyard's come by it, I don't know..."
There was a pause as the Doctor considered an earlier thought.
“Y’know, I meant it-“ the Doctor struggled to expand.
Jack looked at her with fear in his eyes. “Doctor, don’t…”
Before either of them could say another word, River walked in.
“Oh… I can see somebody’s been busy! You always seem to do your best work when you’re riled and petulant,” River remarked, looking at the Doctor’s projects strewn about. “Herr Freud called it ‘sublimation,’” she mouthed the diagnosis silently to Jack before continuing, “but I call it dithering…” She ignored the stern look she was getting from the Doctor. “Who’s the coffin for?”
Jack chuckled softly.
The Doctor stared at her, assessing that despite her breezy delivery she was still pretty cheesed at her today, considering she’d disappeared soon after their conversation following tea the night before.
The Doctor knew from experience that River’s casually caustic conduct usually spelled contentious conflict and cumbersome contrition on her end. She braced herself.
“Here,” River said, nonchalantly, “I thought you’d need this.” She held up an arm. Sliding up her cuff, there was a glint of metal on her wrist. She was still wearing the Extended-Range Locator bracelet.
She was also going to make the Doctor take it off of her-the bracelet she had put on her in a grim rehash of their vows…
Meeting her eyes, the Doctor knew she had yet another doghouse to crawl out of. She pursed her lips together and unsnapped the bracelet, replacing it on her own wrist-all while steadily looking into River’s indecipherable eyes.
River put her arm down and raised a meaningful eyebrow to her once she was finished.
Something had definitely just passed between them.
Uncomfortable, Jack took the tracking device the Doctor had given him and connected it to Torchwood’s main sentient computer terminal.
The Doctor’s program launched immediately, issuing a succession of beeps as readings jumped all over the computer screens.
The Doctor went over to take a look at the screen. “Well, that’s it then,” she said, bending towards it for a better look. She looked around. "Hey, where's Donna?" Jack saw the Doctor's hesitation.
"Don't worry," he said, "I'm sure she won't let us go without seeing us off."
Comforted, she nodded to herself, thinking again about her plan, and growing ever more confident. “If I’m wrong about this, I’ll eat my ruff…” she muttered, plucking at her scarlet ruffled neckline.
“Looks like you were right,” remarked Jack as he watched the screens.
She gave an offhanded mutter, “Ummm… Yes. I usually am.”
Jack exchanged glances of mild exasperation with River.
“Okay,” Twelve exclaimed, smoothing down her shimmering jacquard suit jacket, “Let’s get the coordinates and boogie-“
“Hold on, ma’am,” said Neil, a Torchwood operative manning one of the computer terminals. He was sitting where Mickey had always sat, and it unnerved the Doctor just to see him there. “Scans of that area indicate massive instability. Readings appear to be similar to that of hotspots of unusual rift activity here on Earth… But they’re off the scale as opposed to anything we’ve ever seen on this planet.”
The Doctor smacked herself in the forehead, “Rift energy! Of course!! What a perfect place for an extradimensional portal!! That signature is practically X marks the spot!”
River looked at the screen. “Oh, that’s Estannia Sylvannatonna! Brilliant!” she exclaimed.
“You know the place?”
“Well, you should know, Doctor,” exclaimed River. “It’s a bit like Earth, inhabitable, warm atmosphere, breathable air-and known for its spiritual vortices. It’s a lot like a semi-tropical version of Sedona in Arizona, actually.”
“Spiritual Vortices?” asked Jack.
“Yes,” River continued, “they have these areas on their planet that are revered for having powerful spiritual energy centres. There are temples erected at the strongest of these sites. But they’re gorgeous, these temples. Like the famed Hanging Gardens of Babylon-which believe me, were quite something-the temples are multi-tiered wonders of technology and landscape architecture! But these put those ancient Earth gardens to shame! Tourists flock from all over the galaxy to be there. They sponsor pilgrimages, have high-priests who attend the sacred areas and help people attain the spiritual nirvana they come to find.”
The Doctor gave a quick grin at River’s brilliance before she sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Human beings. Doesn’t matter what time they belong to or which galaxy they’ve spread out to-they just can’t leave well enough alone…” She looked meaningfully at Jack, “Just like the original Torchwood One building Canary Wharf to reach the Void bleeding through to this reality, they’ve built a temple over one of the portals to the extradimensional Matrix!”
“Are they in danger?” asked Jack.
She shook her head. “No, probably not. But I bet they have no idea what it really is or how powerful it is, let alone how to access or open it.” She rubbed her hands together and clapped. “So! Estannia Sylvannatonna, then! Everybody get your gear!”
Jack and River hesitated, looking at each other in silence for a moment.
Twelve clapped again, “C’mon! Chop chop! Daylight’s a wasting, and we’ve got the universe and all of reality to save!”
As they turned to leave, the Doctor saw Carly the Med Tech walk through the hall, and realised that if their trip was successful, she’d be dooming the poor girl to her ghastly fate all over again.
She also cast lingering glances at the workstations she’d been so used to seeing Mickey and Martha manning.
River came over to her and put her hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Doctor. We’ll fix the damage he’s done.”
“I hope so,” she said, “because if he’s messed with the timeline too much it might have snuffed itself out, collapsing under the atrophy. And once that happens, time can’t be rewritten, no matter how much we’d like it to be. We may have lost Martha for good...”
“Doesn’t this regeneration believe in impossible miracles anymore?”
Her words-rain on pebbly soil-fell through her, catching here and there. The words pooled in her mind and created insight.
“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, turning towards River. “I pushed you away. I didn’t confide in you. I never gave you a choice. You called me a ‘clinical, autocratic git’ and you were right…”
“Umm… Yes. I usually am…”
The Doctor gave a little snort. She wrapped her arm around River’s waist, “And I never said,” she started.
River trained her eyes onto the Doctor’s as the Doctor drew her forehead to hers. River looked at her with a calm, serene expression that belied her worries about the Doctor’s plan. “Said what, Sweetie?”
The Doctor briefly pressed her eyelids together before meeting River’s gaze again. She squeezed her waist. “Thanks,” she whispered.
River continued to hide her feelings. “Anytime, Love,” she replied.
The Doctor let go of her and turned to Jack, who was busying himself packing up a rucksack. “C’mon, Methuselah. Time to do it Three Muskateers style!”
“Oh no!” cried Jack, remembering a particular Bavarian adventure from long ago. He slung the rucksack over his shoulder and came forward, waggling his finger at the Doctor. “No way! This time, you promise not to get into any fistfights!”
“Oh, how your memory fails you in your old age, Captain! I think you’ll remember it was not I who resorted to violence!”
“Fine then,” relented Jack. He turned to his daughter, “River!”
“Yes, Dad?”
“No fistfights!”
River simply rolled her eyes, having heard the story years ago-or from now-from both of them.
The Doctor held her sonic aloft and gave a battle cry, “Touché d’Artagnan!”
“Oi!!”
Donna’s voice echoed to them from across the hall. “No, no, no!” she called, coming towards them, waving her hand at them. She walked all the way up to them and clamped her hands onto her hips, tilting just so. “Now just where do you think you’re going?”
“Uh, Donna,” said Jack, “we’ve got to-“
“Excuse me, was I askin’ you?” she snapped at Jack. While there was still a playful edge to her voice, she sounded a bit annoyed. There was also a note of concern. She turned to the Doctor. “Just got back, you did. Looked like hell, you did. Just got you guys fed and cleaned up and now you’re gonna go traipsing off again?” She leveled her wise eyes at the Doctor, who said nothing. “What’s goin’ on, you?”
“Uh, Donna,” the Doctor hedged, “we’ve got to-“
“Oh no!” she chastised, “Not you as well! God, all your incarnations are the same! Doesn’t matter what face you wear, you’re always as tight-lipped as a hooked halibut!”
River stifled a guffaw. She liked this redheaded woman…
Donna continued, leaning towards Twelve, “Listen, what’s this whole cloak and dagger thing about? What have you figured out?”
“Well…” started Twelve, “I’ve finally figured out how to put liquid eyeliner on in a straight line…”
Donna tilted her head at the Doctor in that way that telegraphed: Donna Is Not Pleased With Your Crap, and continued to stare at her. After a second with no answer, she clasped her hands together anxiously. “Can I come?”
The Doctor’s eyebrows went up. “Can you… what!??”
“Can I come?” She huffed. “Well, if it’s so neato-keen-whatever you lot are up to-then can I come, too?”
“Y’know… Uhhh…” the Doctor started.
“Oh boy!” Donna wailed, “Here it comes! Let’s hear your excuse!”
“No, no. I’d love for you to come, I would! But I actually need for you to do a very important job here.”
“And what is that?” she said, unsurprised, knowing full well she was being put off.
The Doctor wanted to tell her to have a great life. She wanted to tell her she was her best friend in the whole universe. She wanted to thank her for everything she ever did for her, tell her she wished things had been different and that Donna really had been able to travel with her forever in the TARDIS, and that she was devastated when she’d been robbed of her and her wit and her heart all these years…
But she didn’t.
Instead, the Doctor gently put her hands on Donna’s shoulders and squared her to face her. “I need you to go home and get those wedding pictures for me. When I come back, I want to see them. Maybe then I’ll remember.”
“Oh, right!” Donna complained, wriggling out of the Doctor’s grasp. “You lot get to gallivant off to who knows where and I’m left diggin’ through old snaps of my Great Aunt Vi doin’ the chicken dance at the reception with her skirts hiked up to her kippers!” She snorted in annoyance. “Doctor, how are my dusty wedding pics going to help you on whatever [she did air quotes] ‘super secret alien spy mission’ that you three are sneaking off to?”
The Doctor caught Donna’s face between her hands. “Cos they show me how happy you are now.” She leaned in and rested her forehead against hers, knowing full well that if everything went right on their next mission, she would never be able to speak to her like this again. The Doctor tried her best to smile. “I’ll see you soon, Donna.”
She narrowed her eyes at the Doctor. “Fine. If ya don’t want to take me, just tell me.”
“I’m sorry,” said Twelve, grasping her hands gently. “You can’t come this time.”
“All right...” She turned to Jack and River, pointing at them. “Then I’m holding you two responsible for making sure nothing happens to her. Understand? No more blood sacrifice rituals or whatever the three of you were out doing the other day! Took bloody ages to get those stains out of your clothes!”
Blood Sacrifice? There it was again. Twelve pursed her lips together and looked off, thinking about Donna’s ironic coincidence of putting things together…
Jack and River nodded grimly; also knowing she’d likely not be there once they came back, if things went according to plan.
River turned to shake Donna’s hand goodbye. “Lovely to meet you, Donna,” she said warmly.
Donna gave an awkward wave of her hand. “Oh yeah, have fun. Sure I’ll be seein’ you. Time travel and all. Never know where anyone will pop up!”
Jack broke the tension with a cheery, “All ashore that’s goin’ to shore!” Relieved to get away from more awkward, potential reality-changing conversations with River, Donna stepped aside to give them room.
The Doctor knew that beyond losing her for a second time, she was about to mess with Donna’s memories yet again. A whole boxful of pictures would disappear-Donna’s timeline-her future, erased and rewritten once more.
“Wait a second, Donna,” blurted the Doctor.
Donna stopped and spun back to face her.
The Doctor stood in front of her, her eyes sad and watery, the corner of her lips on her face turned down. She couldn’t say anything. She just opened up her arms.
Donna moved into her for the hug.
The Doctor clutched at her friend, fighting with herself to keep from weeping. She’d had her best friend back, if only for the last two days. It was much too short a time.
Without warning there was another tremor and the sound of something falling as an operative hit the ground.
Donna pulled back, focusing on the clamour. “Ohmigod! Terrence! Are you okay??”
Donna pulled herself away from the Doctor’s arms, breaking the hug.
“See ya soon, Spacegit!” shouted Donna over her shoulder as she rushed to help Terrence.
Donna Noble: Off to save the universe, one person at a time.
Theirs wasn’t a proper goodbye, but it would have to do.
Jack stabbed in coordinates and the three friends joined hands over Jack’s Vortex Manipulator, River and the Doctor at the ends, each grasping a side of the coffin-sized metal ETM to bring with them.
Hunched over the injured man, only Donna raised her head to watch as her friends fizzled out of the air with a sizzling pop.
“Nutters…” she muttered to herself with a half-smile. She shook her head, turned back to the man and continued to help.
*To be continued in Chapter 24: Killing Time…
* In addition to the usual Nu Who references, particular reference was given to this oldie but goodie (WARNING: SHAMELESS PIMPAGE), Rose, Jack and Nine in better days…
And if you want to know more about Psycho-Telemetric Circuits in the TARDIS, go here.