No Justice - [1/5]
Title: No Justice
Author: sketty24
Chapters: 1/5
Characters: The Doctor, Donna Noble, and a mysterious stranger, (canon.)
Rating: T
Spoilers: None specific, but may hold a few mentions of Series 4 of Doctor Who and Series 2 of Torchwood.
Summary: The Doctor meets a stranger upon a refuel in Cardiff, and is accompanied to the prison system of Justica by one of its previous captives. (Set before Series 4 finale.)
"Cardiff!" the Doctor announced happily as the TARDIS emerged on Roald Dahl Plass with the familiar whirring of its engines. He wasn’t quite talking to anyone however, since Donna had been sleeping for the past few hours in her room. Despite the fact the Doctor didn’t need to sleep as often, Donna adamantly kept track of her awakened hours to keep her own body clock senile. She did not want to experience some kind of time-and-space lag. Despite the fact the humming TARDIS was the Doctor’s only response, he remained grinning in a content fashion as he watched his spacecraft refuel its energy from the Rift.
The Rift was a ripped opening of a wormhole that was fixated in Cardiff, Wales. As a result, it became quite a hot spot for aliens and intergalactic travellers such as the Timelord. The energy given off from this phenomenon was an effective way to recharge the TARDIS, particularly after a long journey. While here, the Doctor decided to take a look outside. He headed down the grating and to the door, opening it and leaning out to take in the Plass. A weak sunshine filtered down from the sky, any warmth being diminished from the chill of wind that blew in from Cardiff Bay.
The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS, slipping his hands into the trouser pockets of his suit as he studied the area around him. The Millennium Centre gleamed like the shell of a golden armadillo, nesting silently next to the ominous water tower that loomed above the bowels of the Torchwood Hub. The Doctor studied his reflection in the mirrored trickle of water, wondering if Captain Jack Harkness was already watching him from Torchwood’s CCTV network.
A few stragglers of tourists wandered around the Plass, having spent their days around the nearby shops and cafes that fringed the waterfront. Out of the figures of simple passer-bys, the Doctor spotted a rather unique-looking fellow. He too had been noticed, and the stranger was walking his way with an expression of purpose.
“Hello,” said the Doctor pleasantly when the man approached with a close enough proximity to be heard over the wind.
The man slowed when he reached the Doctor, intense blue eyes studying the Doctor. “Hey,” he greeted, with a surprising casualness.
It wasn’t often the Doctor would receive a conversation from a passerby, so he was smiling in that child-like way he sometimes adopted. “I’m just visiting Cardiff,” he informed him with the same cheerfulness. “Love this city. It’s had some ups and downs, but I always like to pop over. It draws me.”
“Right,” came the stranger’s vague response, his eyes turning from the Doctor and studying the TARDIS over the Timelord’s shoulder.
The Doctor’s expression turned curious and he leaned into the man’s line of sight. “What are you looking at?” he asked, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he studied the stranger with a whole new element of intrigue.
“Your box,” came the simple response.
“Oh!” the Doctor announced suddenly, turning to look at the TARDIS as if he had only noticed it himself. His hand rubbed through the hair on the back of his head before he nodded slowly. “Yup ... that’s my box,” he confirmed needlessly. The TARDIS was normally hidden from usual view by passersbys, its filter keeping their attention vague unless he deliberately directed their attention to it. The Doctor cast a curious eye back on the man, studying him a little closer, and not without an element of wariness. “You can see it then?”
The man expressively rolled his eyes to the dull Cardiff sky. “No, I can’t,” he replied dryly before walking past the Doctor and over to the TARDIS itself.
The Doctor didn’t appreciate people just wandering inside without permission, and shadowed the man’s heels with a slight frown. The stranger didn’t enter the TARDIS however, he just slowly ran his tanned, weathered fingers over the coarse blue paint on the outside of the door. He touched it with a tenderness the Doctor normally only recognised within himself. He remained watching the nameless man as his fingers continued the skim the wood like the exploring caress of a lover.
“You know what it is?” he asked, to interrupt the affair.
The man turned his head to look him straight in the eye, gaze piercing. “I have a good guess.”
The Doctor studied him further, trying to recognise any discernable features about him that might place him with an alien species, and thus give him reason to know what the TARDIS might be. However, the man looked entirely human, if dressed a little strangely for an Earth dweller.
It was time to introduce himself. “I’m the Doctor,” he said, offering him his hand.
A slow smile spread over the man’s face and after taking a sweeping glance over the Doctor’s appearance, extended his own hand to meet his palm. During the shake, and before he could reveal his name, his eyes flickered slowly over the Time Lord’s shoulder. There was a ruckus sounding as a few figures ran out of the crowd of tourists, pointing directly at them. The stranger’s expression contorted at the sight.
“Who are they?” the Doctor asked as he squinted his eyes against the briefly brightening sunlight. He slowly walked away from the TARDIS, planning on intervening with a more diplomatic means to calm them down.
“Yeah, I’ll explain that later. Right now, I need a lift!” the man said hurriedly when the figures halted their sprint a distance away, now aiming some unidentifiable gun. The stranger ran over to grab the Doctor’s wrist as he turned into the TARDIS, slamming the door open and pulling the Timelord in after him. The Doctor stumbled slightly as he found himself inside all of a sudden, and turned to find the door had been shut; just in time to receive the blast of some kind of beam. There was then a series of heavy thuds on the closed door, suggesting the chasers had reached the TARDIS, and weren’t happy about it. “Do what you need to do then!” said the stranger impatiently, trying to shoo the Doctor to the console when the door rattled angrily again.
“I don’t even know your name!” the Doctor replied in a flustered fashion as he sprinted up to the console, preparing the TARDIS for flight.
Now safely within the TARDIS, the brief panic had fled from the man, and he sauntered along the grated floor with an overwhelming nonchalance. He studied the interior of the craft with an impressed expression, Italian boots clicking quietly on the metal floor.
“Name?” the Doctor asked again, tone bordering on a demand as he slammed down the gearstick.
The repeat caught the man’s attention and he turned to look at the Doctor, smiling widely as he casually hooked his thumbs into his belt. “Hart. John Hart.”
The TARDIS juddered into flight, causing the occupants to sway unsteadily around the console. John moved to grab the seating before sitting himself down, grinning a little at the bouncy ride, and the way the Doctor ran around the control panel with expert balance, leaning over it as he flicked switches and twisted knobs. “Movellan,” the Doctor then exhaled as he kicked as a lever on the other side of the console.
John looked up distractedly at the sudden words. “What?” he asked, then going back to admiring the way the Doctor was now more or less straddling the flight deck.
The TARDIS settled into a steady flight and the Doctor straightened onto his feet, subconsciously pulling down his suit jacket. “The species that were chasing you,” the Doctor explained.
“Oh, right,” said John casually, lifting his booted feet against the console, crossing them leisurely at the ankle. “I know.”
“I’m going to have to go back and make sure they’re not causing trouble,” the Doctor sighed as he turned to study the monitor on deck, putting his glasses on.
“They’re not. It’s me they wanted,” explained John, continuing to sound casual about all this. “I learned the hard way that they don’t like to be double-crossed.”
The Doctor gave John a short look over the top of his glasses. “What did you do?”
“Well, you know the Movellan,” said John, leaning forward with a conspirational grin on his face. “A little emotionally handicapped, but sexy as hell.”
“They’re androids, they’re - “
“So, I got into a little bit of an affair with one, but I think I temporarily short-circuited his power packet. That might’ve been because he was getting annoying. Extremely talkative, aren’t they? I might have also kind of stole it to try and power my own transport. It didn’t work and they tracked me down, but now here I am.” John concluded his story with a sweep of his arms and sat back with a winning smile that reminded the Doctor strongly of Captain Jack.
The Doctor folded his arms slowly. “You hijacked a man’s life-force for fuel?”
“Well, when you put it that way, you make it sound bad,” John said with a brief frown before his smile reappeared. “No harm done, he got a new one, but they still wanted to kick my arse. Already had a go too,” he said, lifting his shirt and pointing to a healing wound on his abdomen. “I do enjoy an angry lover.”
“Ok, ok,” said the Doctor, waving his hands when John began lifting his clothes up. “But why were they in Cardiff?”
“Without the power packet, my Vortex Manipulator only had enough energy to go between two fixed coordinate points. One being their planet, the other being the place I visited last, which was on Earth. I was stuck in limbo trying to avoid them.”
“Vortex Manipulator?” the Doctor asked, eyes dropping immediately to the leather wrist-strap that was half hidden by the red jacket sleeve.
John lifted his arm, showing the battered device. “A less flashy version of your spaceship. We don’t all get seatbelts and air conditioning when we travel in time.”
The Doctor said nothing further, turning back to the console. “Where do you need dropping off?” he asked, studying their path of travel so far. They were currently skirting the 5th Century on planet Earth.
“So soon to get rid of me?” John asked, swinging his feet off the deck and standing up again. His thumbs hooked into his belt once more, sheathed sword swaying slowly against the side of his leg.
“You said you wanted a lift.”
John studied the Doctor silently for a moment before a slow smile weaved its way across his lips. “So I did. Well then, Doctor, you can drop me off at Justica.”
The Doctor’s gaze snapped from the monitor and upon John. “That’s a prison system.”
“I know,” said John slowly, as if the Doctor was being dense. “And that’s where I want this train to stop, honey.”
“Fine,” the Doctor sighed, deciding he’d be better getting this man out of his hair. He seemed to be the kind to not only attract trouble, but also welcome it with open arms. The Doctor didn’t think he needed another reason to get enemies coming his way.
The TARDIS veered out of the Middle Ages to bound through the Vortex and on into space, racing towards their destination. John was thrown around again, but caught himself as he grabbed onto the console, bumping lightly into the Doctor and not seeming to mind one bit. Within a matter of minutes, the TARDIS slowed and they were approaching the Justica solar system at a steady pace. The console beeped in alarm to warm them they were entering prison territory, which the Doctor just disregarded with a press of the button. John studied the mechanics admiringly, eyes lifting to watch the central column pump its energy.
The TARDIS materialised with a low thrum of the engines on the planet of Justice Prime, gradually appearing into plain view as it emerged out of the Vortex. The Doctor stopped the TARDIS with a grind of a lever before he turned to study John. “We’re here.”
John looked towards him with a pleased grin, slapping his arm around the Timelord’s shoulders and setting off to the doors. “You ever been here before?”
The Doctor allowed himself to be walked down the slope. “Briefly,” he said, keeping his response vague.
“One of the coldest planets here,” he revealed impressively. “So cold that the nitrogen turns to snow.”
“I’m aware of that,” the Doctor replied, becomingly slightly annoyed that John felt the need to slip him trivia, like he was a novice traveller. “Why did you want to be brought here anyway?”
John stopped at the door, looking at the Doctor. “I’m one of the prison guards in the SCAT vaults.”
“And you just decided to take a holiday to Earth?”
John smiled that same winning smile as he opened the door. “Like you said, Cardiff just draws people to it.”
Both of them looked out into the freezing cold atmosphere of Justice Prime. Ignoring the prison vaults contained here, it was an impressive solar system. “Come on, let’s take a look,” said John in his ear, slipping his arm off the Doctor’s shoulder to smack him firmly on the backside. The Doctor jolted forward in shock, moving off the threshold and outside. John casually stepped out of the TARDIS and into the snow after him, looking around at the blizzard wasteland of the planet. It looked deserted, for it was underground where the action was. “Anyway, this is where I leave you.”
The Doctor turned to say a not-quite-so reluctant goodbye to John Hart, before he froze on the spot, and not from the ice. John had procured a pistol from his belt and was pointing it directly at his forehead. There was a cruel, satisfied smile on the man’s lips as he stared into the flinch of panic in the Timelord’s eyes. “What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving you here,” said John with a small shrug. “How long can someone last on the surface of Prime, anyway? Ten minutes?”
The soles of the Doctor’s Converse were already sticking to the iced ground. “Wait, wait, wait,” said the Doctor, raising both hands as if he was trying to calm the man down, but John looked eerily relaxed about the whole proceedings, keeping his gun steady. There wasn’t even a flicker of doubt in his gaze. He would shoot without a second thought. There was little bargaining here, but the Doctor had to try. Donna was still sleeping onboard the TARDIS, but what was safest? Keep her presence secret, or alert her and have her thrown out to her death with him? “John, just tell me what it is you need. I can help you,” said the Doctor, trying to pacify with the man.
John just grinned that little wider, and it was far from reassuring. “Like I said, my Vortex Manipulator can only get me between two points at the moment, but why hunt for energy why I have an entire shapeship waiting for me?”
The Doctor’s eyes flickered slowly to his beloved TARDIS. “It’s worthless to you, only a Timelord can fly it,” he said, speaking his species’ name with an impressive note, trying to strike some fear into those piercing blue eyes.
“Yes,” drawled John slowly, utterly unaffected as he strolled a few steps closer to the Doctor, gun held more loosely, but with a sense of coiled preparation that would have the trigger clenched the minute the Doctor dared to shift. “But you don’t know who I am, really.”
“So who are you?” the Doctor asked quietly, trying to resist shivering as the blizzard raged by.
John grinned cheerfully, a manic enjoyment in his face. “I used to be a Time Agent,” he said, taking vindictive pleasure in the way the Doctor’s brow creased in worry. If there was anyone outside Timelords who might manage to (if amateurishly) fly a TARDIS, it was an Agent.
“If it’s energy you need, I can provide it. I’m the only one who can fix your wrist strap.”
“Oh, really? And what’s so special about you?”
The Doctor aimlessly waved his hands in gesture. “Timelords invented the entire principle!”
John blew a faint snort of disinterest, cocking the gun barrel. “Well, you’re not so smart now, are you, Doc?” He studied him with one last slow sweep of his gaze. “Shame, I could’ve had such fun with you.” There was barely a pause after his sentence when the trigger was squeezed and a shot fired into the Doctor’s shoulder. The Doctor collapsed back into the snow with a yell of pain, hand grabbing his injured shoulder. As he winced and writhed, John strode over, feeling him down (with a little unnecessary lingering.) He wrenched items from his pockets, stuffing them into his own as he mercilessly robbed him off the possessions he carried.
When done, he strode back into the TARDIS and slammed the door shut, locking it on the slowly freezing Timelord. John sauntered back over to the console, pulling out the sonic screwdriver and studying it. “I always wanted one of these,” he said cheerfully to himself, tossing it in his palm. He sat down at the pilot seat, stretching his legs up onto the console. His exploration of the device was halted when he heard the distant, curious call of a woman’s voice.
“Doctor?”
***
Next chapter to come shortly. Please comment! I've only ever done drabbles and one-shots for Doctor Who and Torchwood before, but this idea brewed and developed quite a nice short story.
Onto chapter 2!
Author: sketty24
Chapters: 1/5
Characters: The Doctor, Donna Noble, and a mysterious stranger, (canon.)
Rating: T
Spoilers: None specific, but may hold a few mentions of Series 4 of Doctor Who and Series 2 of Torchwood.
Summary: The Doctor meets a stranger upon a refuel in Cardiff, and is accompanied to the prison system of Justica by one of its previous captives. (Set before Series 4 finale.)
"Cardiff!" the Doctor announced happily as the TARDIS emerged on Roald Dahl Plass with the familiar whirring of its engines. He wasn’t quite talking to anyone however, since Donna had been sleeping for the past few hours in her room. Despite the fact the Doctor didn’t need to sleep as often, Donna adamantly kept track of her awakened hours to keep her own body clock senile. She did not want to experience some kind of time-and-space lag. Despite the fact the humming TARDIS was the Doctor’s only response, he remained grinning in a content fashion as he watched his spacecraft refuel its energy from the Rift.
The Rift was a ripped opening of a wormhole that was fixated in Cardiff, Wales. As a result, it became quite a hot spot for aliens and intergalactic travellers such as the Timelord. The energy given off from this phenomenon was an effective way to recharge the TARDIS, particularly after a long journey. While here, the Doctor decided to take a look outside. He headed down the grating and to the door, opening it and leaning out to take in the Plass. A weak sunshine filtered down from the sky, any warmth being diminished from the chill of wind that blew in from Cardiff Bay.
The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS, slipping his hands into the trouser pockets of his suit as he studied the area around him. The Millennium Centre gleamed like the shell of a golden armadillo, nesting silently next to the ominous water tower that loomed above the bowels of the Torchwood Hub. The Doctor studied his reflection in the mirrored trickle of water, wondering if Captain Jack Harkness was already watching him from Torchwood’s CCTV network.
A few stragglers of tourists wandered around the Plass, having spent their days around the nearby shops and cafes that fringed the waterfront. Out of the figures of simple passer-bys, the Doctor spotted a rather unique-looking fellow. He too had been noticed, and the stranger was walking his way with an expression of purpose.
“Hello,” said the Doctor pleasantly when the man approached with a close enough proximity to be heard over the wind.
The man slowed when he reached the Doctor, intense blue eyes studying the Doctor. “Hey,” he greeted, with a surprising casualness.
It wasn’t often the Doctor would receive a conversation from a passerby, so he was smiling in that child-like way he sometimes adopted. “I’m just visiting Cardiff,” he informed him with the same cheerfulness. “Love this city. It’s had some ups and downs, but I always like to pop over. It draws me.”
“Right,” came the stranger’s vague response, his eyes turning from the Doctor and studying the TARDIS over the Timelord’s shoulder.
The Doctor’s expression turned curious and he leaned into the man’s line of sight. “What are you looking at?” he asked, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he studied the stranger with a whole new element of intrigue.
“Your box,” came the simple response.
“Oh!” the Doctor announced suddenly, turning to look at the TARDIS as if he had only noticed it himself. His hand rubbed through the hair on the back of his head before he nodded slowly. “Yup ... that’s my box,” he confirmed needlessly. The TARDIS was normally hidden from usual view by passersbys, its filter keeping their attention vague unless he deliberately directed their attention to it. The Doctor cast a curious eye back on the man, studying him a little closer, and not without an element of wariness. “You can see it then?”
The man expressively rolled his eyes to the dull Cardiff sky. “No, I can’t,” he replied dryly before walking past the Doctor and over to the TARDIS itself.
The Doctor didn’t appreciate people just wandering inside without permission, and shadowed the man’s heels with a slight frown. The stranger didn’t enter the TARDIS however, he just slowly ran his tanned, weathered fingers over the coarse blue paint on the outside of the door. He touched it with a tenderness the Doctor normally only recognised within himself. He remained watching the nameless man as his fingers continued the skim the wood like the exploring caress of a lover.
“You know what it is?” he asked, to interrupt the affair.
The man turned his head to look him straight in the eye, gaze piercing. “I have a good guess.”
The Doctor studied him further, trying to recognise any discernable features about him that might place him with an alien species, and thus give him reason to know what the TARDIS might be. However, the man looked entirely human, if dressed a little strangely for an Earth dweller.
It was time to introduce himself. “I’m the Doctor,” he said, offering him his hand.
A slow smile spread over the man’s face and after taking a sweeping glance over the Doctor’s appearance, extended his own hand to meet his palm. During the shake, and before he could reveal his name, his eyes flickered slowly over the Time Lord’s shoulder. There was a ruckus sounding as a few figures ran out of the crowd of tourists, pointing directly at them. The stranger’s expression contorted at the sight.
“Who are they?” the Doctor asked as he squinted his eyes against the briefly brightening sunlight. He slowly walked away from the TARDIS, planning on intervening with a more diplomatic means to calm them down.
“Yeah, I’ll explain that later. Right now, I need a lift!” the man said hurriedly when the figures halted their sprint a distance away, now aiming some unidentifiable gun. The stranger ran over to grab the Doctor’s wrist as he turned into the TARDIS, slamming the door open and pulling the Timelord in after him. The Doctor stumbled slightly as he found himself inside all of a sudden, and turned to find the door had been shut; just in time to receive the blast of some kind of beam. There was then a series of heavy thuds on the closed door, suggesting the chasers had reached the TARDIS, and weren’t happy about it. “Do what you need to do then!” said the stranger impatiently, trying to shoo the Doctor to the console when the door rattled angrily again.
“I don’t even know your name!” the Doctor replied in a flustered fashion as he sprinted up to the console, preparing the TARDIS for flight.
Now safely within the TARDIS, the brief panic had fled from the man, and he sauntered along the grated floor with an overwhelming nonchalance. He studied the interior of the craft with an impressed expression, Italian boots clicking quietly on the metal floor.
“Name?” the Doctor asked again, tone bordering on a demand as he slammed down the gearstick.
The repeat caught the man’s attention and he turned to look at the Doctor, smiling widely as he casually hooked his thumbs into his belt. “Hart. John Hart.”
The TARDIS juddered into flight, causing the occupants to sway unsteadily around the console. John moved to grab the seating before sitting himself down, grinning a little at the bouncy ride, and the way the Doctor ran around the control panel with expert balance, leaning over it as he flicked switches and twisted knobs. “Movellan,” the Doctor then exhaled as he kicked as a lever on the other side of the console.
John looked up distractedly at the sudden words. “What?” he asked, then going back to admiring the way the Doctor was now more or less straddling the flight deck.
The TARDIS settled into a steady flight and the Doctor straightened onto his feet, subconsciously pulling down his suit jacket. “The species that were chasing you,” the Doctor explained.
“Oh, right,” said John casually, lifting his booted feet against the console, crossing them leisurely at the ankle. “I know.”
“I’m going to have to go back and make sure they’re not causing trouble,” the Doctor sighed as he turned to study the monitor on deck, putting his glasses on.
“They’re not. It’s me they wanted,” explained John, continuing to sound casual about all this. “I learned the hard way that they don’t like to be double-crossed.”
The Doctor gave John a short look over the top of his glasses. “What did you do?”
“Well, you know the Movellan,” said John, leaning forward with a conspirational grin on his face. “A little emotionally handicapped, but sexy as hell.”
“They’re androids, they’re - “
“So, I got into a little bit of an affair with one, but I think I temporarily short-circuited his power packet. That might’ve been because he was getting annoying. Extremely talkative, aren’t they? I might have also kind of stole it to try and power my own transport. It didn’t work and they tracked me down, but now here I am.” John concluded his story with a sweep of his arms and sat back with a winning smile that reminded the Doctor strongly of Captain Jack.
The Doctor folded his arms slowly. “You hijacked a man’s life-force for fuel?”
“Well, when you put it that way, you make it sound bad,” John said with a brief frown before his smile reappeared. “No harm done, he got a new one, but they still wanted to kick my arse. Already had a go too,” he said, lifting his shirt and pointing to a healing wound on his abdomen. “I do enjoy an angry lover.”
“Ok, ok,” said the Doctor, waving his hands when John began lifting his clothes up. “But why were they in Cardiff?”
“Without the power packet, my Vortex Manipulator only had enough energy to go between two fixed coordinate points. One being their planet, the other being the place I visited last, which was on Earth. I was stuck in limbo trying to avoid them.”
“Vortex Manipulator?” the Doctor asked, eyes dropping immediately to the leather wrist-strap that was half hidden by the red jacket sleeve.
John lifted his arm, showing the battered device. “A less flashy version of your spaceship. We don’t all get seatbelts and air conditioning when we travel in time.”
The Doctor said nothing further, turning back to the console. “Where do you need dropping off?” he asked, studying their path of travel so far. They were currently skirting the 5th Century on planet Earth.
“So soon to get rid of me?” John asked, swinging his feet off the deck and standing up again. His thumbs hooked into his belt once more, sheathed sword swaying slowly against the side of his leg.
“You said you wanted a lift.”
John studied the Doctor silently for a moment before a slow smile weaved its way across his lips. “So I did. Well then, Doctor, you can drop me off at Justica.”
The Doctor’s gaze snapped from the monitor and upon John. “That’s a prison system.”
“I know,” said John slowly, as if the Doctor was being dense. “And that’s where I want this train to stop, honey.”
“Fine,” the Doctor sighed, deciding he’d be better getting this man out of his hair. He seemed to be the kind to not only attract trouble, but also welcome it with open arms. The Doctor didn’t think he needed another reason to get enemies coming his way.
The TARDIS veered out of the Middle Ages to bound through the Vortex and on into space, racing towards their destination. John was thrown around again, but caught himself as he grabbed onto the console, bumping lightly into the Doctor and not seeming to mind one bit. Within a matter of minutes, the TARDIS slowed and they were approaching the Justica solar system at a steady pace. The console beeped in alarm to warm them they were entering prison territory, which the Doctor just disregarded with a press of the button. John studied the mechanics admiringly, eyes lifting to watch the central column pump its energy.
The TARDIS materialised with a low thrum of the engines on the planet of Justice Prime, gradually appearing into plain view as it emerged out of the Vortex. The Doctor stopped the TARDIS with a grind of a lever before he turned to study John. “We’re here.”
John looked towards him with a pleased grin, slapping his arm around the Timelord’s shoulders and setting off to the doors. “You ever been here before?”
The Doctor allowed himself to be walked down the slope. “Briefly,” he said, keeping his response vague.
“One of the coldest planets here,” he revealed impressively. “So cold that the nitrogen turns to snow.”
“I’m aware of that,” the Doctor replied, becomingly slightly annoyed that John felt the need to slip him trivia, like he was a novice traveller. “Why did you want to be brought here anyway?”
John stopped at the door, looking at the Doctor. “I’m one of the prison guards in the SCAT vaults.”
“And you just decided to take a holiday to Earth?”
John smiled that same winning smile as he opened the door. “Like you said, Cardiff just draws people to it.”
Both of them looked out into the freezing cold atmosphere of Justice Prime. Ignoring the prison vaults contained here, it was an impressive solar system. “Come on, let’s take a look,” said John in his ear, slipping his arm off the Doctor’s shoulder to smack him firmly on the backside. The Doctor jolted forward in shock, moving off the threshold and outside. John casually stepped out of the TARDIS and into the snow after him, looking around at the blizzard wasteland of the planet. It looked deserted, for it was underground where the action was. “Anyway, this is where I leave you.”
The Doctor turned to say a not-quite-so reluctant goodbye to John Hart, before he froze on the spot, and not from the ice. John had procured a pistol from his belt and was pointing it directly at his forehead. There was a cruel, satisfied smile on the man’s lips as he stared into the flinch of panic in the Timelord’s eyes. “What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving you here,” said John with a small shrug. “How long can someone last on the surface of Prime, anyway? Ten minutes?”
The soles of the Doctor’s Converse were already sticking to the iced ground. “Wait, wait, wait,” said the Doctor, raising both hands as if he was trying to calm the man down, but John looked eerily relaxed about the whole proceedings, keeping his gun steady. There wasn’t even a flicker of doubt in his gaze. He would shoot without a second thought. There was little bargaining here, but the Doctor had to try. Donna was still sleeping onboard the TARDIS, but what was safest? Keep her presence secret, or alert her and have her thrown out to her death with him? “John, just tell me what it is you need. I can help you,” said the Doctor, trying to pacify with the man.
John just grinned that little wider, and it was far from reassuring. “Like I said, my Vortex Manipulator can only get me between two points at the moment, but why hunt for energy why I have an entire shapeship waiting for me?”
The Doctor’s eyes flickered slowly to his beloved TARDIS. “It’s worthless to you, only a Timelord can fly it,” he said, speaking his species’ name with an impressive note, trying to strike some fear into those piercing blue eyes.
“Yes,” drawled John slowly, utterly unaffected as he strolled a few steps closer to the Doctor, gun held more loosely, but with a sense of coiled preparation that would have the trigger clenched the minute the Doctor dared to shift. “But you don’t know who I am, really.”
“So who are you?” the Doctor asked quietly, trying to resist shivering as the blizzard raged by.
John grinned cheerfully, a manic enjoyment in his face. “I used to be a Time Agent,” he said, taking vindictive pleasure in the way the Doctor’s brow creased in worry. If there was anyone outside Timelords who might manage to (if amateurishly) fly a TARDIS, it was an Agent.
“If it’s energy you need, I can provide it. I’m the only one who can fix your wrist strap.”
“Oh, really? And what’s so special about you?”
The Doctor aimlessly waved his hands in gesture. “Timelords invented the entire principle!”
John blew a faint snort of disinterest, cocking the gun barrel. “Well, you’re not so smart now, are you, Doc?” He studied him with one last slow sweep of his gaze. “Shame, I could’ve had such fun with you.” There was barely a pause after his sentence when the trigger was squeezed and a shot fired into the Doctor’s shoulder. The Doctor collapsed back into the snow with a yell of pain, hand grabbing his injured shoulder. As he winced and writhed, John strode over, feeling him down (with a little unnecessary lingering.) He wrenched items from his pockets, stuffing them into his own as he mercilessly robbed him off the possessions he carried.
When done, he strode back into the TARDIS and slammed the door shut, locking it on the slowly freezing Timelord. John sauntered back over to the console, pulling out the sonic screwdriver and studying it. “I always wanted one of these,” he said cheerfully to himself, tossing it in his palm. He sat down at the pilot seat, stretching his legs up onto the console. His exploration of the device was halted when he heard the distant, curious call of a woman’s voice.
“Doctor?”
***
Next chapter to come shortly. Please comment! I've only ever done drabbles and one-shots for Doctor Who and Torchwood before, but this idea brewed and developed quite a nice short story.
Onto chapter 2!