Cruel as the Winter 4/5
Story: Cruel as the Winter
Author: wmr
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness
Rated: PG13
Disclaimer: Look, if they were mine we'd have had a lot more episodes between The Doctor Dances and Bad Wolf, just put it that way.
Summary: The Doctor seems to have got it a bit wrong. Again.
Written for the Anywhere But Cardiff ficathon on
time_and_chips. Beta-read by the awesome
dark_aegis. And, sorry, but it's grown once more. The fifth chapter is definitely the final one, though!
Chapter 1: Cold as Snow l Chapter 2: The Deed and the Plan l Chapter 3: The Judgement of Man
Chapter 4: The Motive that Lieth Below
“Doctor? Doctor, what is it?” He’s gone silent again, and utterly still, just like before. This is bad.
Jack drops Rose’s gloved hand, striding around to stand in front of the Doctor. As he feared, the Time Lord’s just staring, unseeing, into space. He waves a hand in front of the Doctor’s eyes. There’s no reaction. Nothing.
Damn.
Bad enough for this to happen any time, but if they don’t get back to the TARDIS any time soon none of them is going to escape without at least some permanent damage. Frostbite’s nasty. He’s seen it before, and hypothermia, too. They have to keep moving.
“Jack? Doctor! What’s goin’ on?”
“We’ve lost him again, Rose. Dunno why, or who these people or things are, but they’ve got him again.”
“Then we’ll get him back again.” Such certainty she’s got, and he thought he was over-confident at times. But then that’s one of the things that draws the Doctor to her, that makes him value her so much.
“Yeah. We will.” What worked before? They were talking to him, sure, but that didn’t seem to have an effect. It was only when Rose kissed him -
Right. Without hesitation, he leans in and kisses the Doctor, hard. No point being gentle or tentative, not in this situation. After a second or two, he traces the seam of the Doctor’s lips with his tongue. Abruptly, the Doctor’s lips part, allowing him entry, and there’s returning pressure.
He pulls back. “Doctor! Welcome back.”
“Huh?” The Doctor blinks, then stares at him, and a moment later grabs at Jack’s upper arm, as if he needs to steady himself. “Ah. They got me again. Right.” He blows out a breath. “Thanks for gettin’ me back.”
Now, that’s something he didn’t expect. Scathing accusations, yes; being told, in that icily sarcastic voice the Doctor does so well, never to do that again, definitely. Not being thanked.
He grins, even as another shiver wracks him. “Any time.”
“Doctor.” Rose is looking up at the two of them, eyes - all they can see of her face - anxious. “What jus’ happened?”
The Doctor’s looking anywhere but at them, and the expression in his eyes is of a man who’s seen far too much pain and suffering. The hand on his arm tightens, and a glance to the side shows Jack that the Doctor’s also holding onto Rose.
Just as he thinks the Time Lord’s going to blow them off again, he says, tonelessly, “They stole my mind before. Tryin’ to do it again.”
“Who are?” Rose’s anxiety’s turned to alarm.
“Aliens.” The Doctor shudders. For the first time since Jack’s met him, he actually looks scared. “Haven’t worked out who they are yet. But I will,” he adds, his tone harsh.
Rose moves closer to the Doctor. “We’re not gonna let them take you.”
Jack moves closer too, the two of them a united front surrounding the Doctor. “What can we do?” His hand’s already in his coat pocket, reaching for his blaster.
“Guns won’t help.”
“Then what will?” Rose demands immediately.
“What you were doin’ before.” His grip on Jack’s arm tightens again. “They’re telepaths. Feed off negative emotions: pain, fear, grief, anger.”
“Psychic energy,” he says, and gives a low whistle. “Been a while since I came across that kind of thing. Would’ve thought you’d find them easier to fight off than humans do - you’re telepathic yourself.”
“Haven’t attacked you two, have they?” He shakes his head. The Doctor continues, “They know I’m a Time Lord. That’s why they came after me.”
“More than one?” Rose asks.
“Far as I can tell.”
“They could’ve... attacked all of us, then.” She’s shivering again and, without moving away from the Doctor, Jack pulls her close, wrapping his free arm around her. “They didn’t, so maybe whatever they do doesn’t work on humans?”
The Doctor stills. Then a slow grin spreads across his face. “Rose Tyler, you’re a genius! Of course it doesn’t. Cause they can’t communicate with humans - you’re not telepaths.”
“That mean you know what they are?” Jack asks.
The Doctor shakes his head. “Nope. But I’ll figure it out. Got enough clues to be going on with.” Abruptly, his expression freezes again, but after a second or so he’s talking again. “They’re still trying. Need your help, all right? Both of you.”
“Anything,” Rose says instantly.
“Just name it.”
“Take this.” The Doctor passes the screwdriver to Jack, and he releases Rose to take it. “It’ll lead us back to the TARDIS. Need both of you to hold my hands. You bein’ there... it grounds me. An’ if I go off on one again, do what you did before, all right?”
Rose’s voice is shaky when she says, “Talk to you? Kiss you? That what you mean?”
The Doctor meets her gaze, and Jack sees Rose’s eyes widen at whatever she sees in his. “Yeah. Whatever it was you did.” He shrugs. “Worked before.”
Jack nods. “Fine. But let’s keep moving, okay?” Because it’s still bloody cold and even with everything they did to warm up back in the hut - and who knew the sonic screwdriver was a portable heater? - he and Rose will freeze to death if they’re out here much longer.
***
Gripping the Doctor’s hand tightly, she concentrates on trudging through the thick snow. It was easier earlier, when she was treading in his footsteps, but that’s not important. The Doctor needs the two of them holding onto him to stop those alien gits getting hold of his mind again, and that’s all that matters. Not her worry about what they’ve already done to him, what put that bleak, agonised expression back in his eyes. Not how cold she feels now, her feet rapidly turning to blocks of ice again, or even her wonder at him asking them to kiss him.
“What you gonna do about them, though?” she asks, and her teeth chatter the whole way through the question. “The aliens, whatever they are.”
“Nothin’, yet.” The Doctor tugs her closer, then drops her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his body. To keep her warm, or because he needs the comfort or protection of her presence? “Doin’ nothing else until we’re back in the TARDIS.”
He freezes suddenly. They’re attacking him again?
“Doctor?”
“Stay with us, Doctor.” Jack’s voice is calm, and he’s moving closer, wrapping his arm around the Doctor’s shoulders.
They feed off negative emotions, the Doctor said. Pain, fear, grief, anger. So positive emotions make them go away, maybe?
“Come back to us, Doctor.” She moves closer to him, sliding her arm around his waist. “You’re better than them, you hear? Much better. You make us want to be so much better.”
“Yeah.” Jack’s voice is closer than she expected, and she realises that he’s resting his head against the Doctor’s. “You know what I was when I met you. If I’m bigger on the inside now, it’s because you made me that way.”
“An’ if it wasn’t for you, my planet would’ve been taken over by the Nestene Consciousness. Ruled by plastic.” She moves to stand in front of him; he’s not moving, eyes open but not looking at anything or anyone.
She’s done it before, but it’s still nerve-wracking; this is the Doctor, and he very deliberately avoided kissing her back at the hut. But Jack did it and it got him back. She got him back earlier the same way. A deep breath, and then she pulls down her scarf, reaches up, lays gloved hands on either side of his face to pull his head down to hers, and presses her chilled lips against his cold ones.
For a second or two, there’s no reaction whatsoever. And then, suddenly, there’s shocked awareness, followed by returning pressure.
He pulls back, stares down at her for a long moment with bleak, fathomless eyes, then says quietly, “Thank you.”
***
He’s back with them, mostly. But part of him’s still fighting the Time War.
Because that’s what it is. That’s what they are, the creatures that have been stealing him away. Victims of his battles and his destruction.
They didn’t tell him that. It was their own lack of thought that allowed him to find out. Taking him, stealing his mind again, while he was with Rose and Jack, holding them, them holding onto him - when he was grounded by their presence - it meant he was stronger, more able to fight back. But, instead of fighting against them, he pushed in the other direction, towards them rather than away from them.
He still doesn’t know what species they are, but he knows where they’re from. The Altaran solar system, badly damaged in the aftermath of Arcadia’s fall. They’re from the Arcadian asteroid belt, and of course the environmental fallout from the destruction of Arcadia wiped out that entire asteroid system. They’re another remnant of a species left without a home.
And he saw it. When he pushed forward, into their consciousness, he saw the ripples from Arcadia burning, expanding, exploding. Saw, as if he was there, on the flight deck of the military spaceship, the asteroid belt catch fire and turn to dust right in front of him. He was the one desperately scrambling for control, trying to pilot the ship and its few passengers away from danger, trying to avoid being sucked into the inferno. He was catapulted through time, hurtling uncontrollably through the Vortex before crash-landing here, in this primitive time, without any means of escape.
He felt, too, in their minds hatred for the Time Lords as well as for the Daleks. Without either of them, none of this would have happened. His captors would still have a home, still have families and loved ones. Instead, they’re trapped on Earth, among an alien species in this primitive time, unable to leave, unable to live the way they’re used to. Prisoners, the last survivors of their kind.
Innocent victims or marauders taking advantage of the post-war confusion, he’s not sure. But there’s one thing he does know, and it’s that the Time War’s casualties are spread far wider than just the Time Lords.
“Doctor.” Rose’s voice is shaky from the cold, but he can hear the worry there too. “You all right?”
He can’t lie to her. “I will be.”
“What can we do?” He suspects that Jack’s only just pre-empted Rose with his question. “How can we stop them... doing it to you again? How can I kill them?” There’s anger in that last question.
“There’s been enough killing.” He didn’t intend that to come out as roughly as it did, but maybe it’s necessary.
“They nearly killed you!” Rose’s arm tightens around his waist.
They did. They would have, too, if not for the two people holding him, supporting him, using every tactic at their disposal to fight for him despite their own needs, the fact that they’re freezing cold and desperate to get warm.
He doesn’t deserve their care, their concern, their... yes, their love. But he’s got it, and right now he’s not going to question it because they need him to get them back to the TARDIS and to warmth and safety.
“Come on.” Emotion he’s trying to hide makes his words come out abrupt. “Let’s keep moving.” For their sake, and for his own: the telepathic creatures are still there. He can feel them at the edge of his consciousness, whispering to him, threatening, letting him know they’re not going to let him go.
This time, they’re not going to win.
***
When he glimpses blue through the white flakes, he thinks he’s imagining things. But then Rose’s weary exclamation of relief tells him he’s not. It really is the TARDIS.
He’d love to pick up speed, but by now the two of them are practically dragging the Doctor; he’s conscious, and even talking a little, but it’s obvious that he’s spent most of their journey fighting off the bastards trying to steal his mind. There’s one good thing about that, though: the exertion of holding onto him, keeping him upright has meant they’ve stayed warmer than they would have otherwise. Except their feet, and his face - unlike Rose, he wasn’t covered up everywhere bar his eyes.
“Inside,” the Doctor says sharply as he breaks away from the two of them and unlocks the door. “Into the med-lab, both of you. I want to examine your hands an’ feet.”
For frostbite, of course. Rose stumbles as she crosses the threshold, and he grabs onto her, though he’s limping himself now. The Doctor’s at her other side, and between them they help her through to the infirmary. Or maybe they’re just all leaning on each other.
In the med-lab, the Doctor turns brisk, instructing them to remove outer clothing, shoes and socks. His feet are red and feel rigid and stiff, wooden, with the occasional developing black spot, and his hands are in about the same state. Rose’s hands aren’t quite as bad, but still bad enough that, back in her own time, she’d be facing several hours of acute pain and discomfort during treatment.
“Didn’t help that you got frozen again after warmin’ up,” the Doctor comments, holding Rose’s hands in his and studying the damage. “Still, soon have you better.”
It’s only to be expected that the TARDIS has appropriate drugs and equipment to repair the damaged tissue and dull the pain. It takes half an hour or so for the Doctor to take care of both of them, and when he’s finished their skin and limbs all look good as new. No lasting damage - at least not to him and Rose. As for the Doctor - well, that’s another matter.
“You two should go an’ take hot baths,” the Doctor says, putting his equipment away. “Won’t be any permanent damage an’ you’ve warmed up, but still, it’d do you good.” With a brief nod, he leaves the room.
Rose catches Jack’s eye. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinking?”
Grim-faced, he nods. “He’s planning on sorting out those bastards on his own, without us there to help him.”
“No chance.” Scrambling down from the treatment couch she’s been sitting on, Rose pulls on dry socks and shoes, conveniently provided by the TARDIS, and comes to stand beside him. “You comin’?”
He holds out a hand to her. “Right there with you.”
His feet may look as good as new, but the throbbing isn’t completely gone. Rose’s halting walk tells him that she’s in the same state. Yes, hot baths would have been a good idea - a single hot bath even better - but checking up on the Doctor is more important.
He’s in the control room, standing by the console, head bent, hands flat against the panel, looking as if he’s carrying the weight of the entire universe on his shoulders.
“Doctor?” Rose drops Jack’s hand and crosses the room, climbing up to stand beside the Time Lord. “You all right?”
The Doctor seems to shake himself, then raises his head, turning to look at her. “Thought I told you two to go an’ have a bath. You’re not healed yet an’ I don’t want to be responsible for you losing a toe or a finger.”
“Wouldn’t be your fault if we did,” Rose retorts, and slides her hand into the Doctor’s. Jack notes the slight hesitation before long fingers close around hers.
The Doctor shrugs. “You should go. There’s nothin’ you can do here.”
Like hell. He walks up to join the two of them by the console, standing on the Doctor’s other side. “Who are they, Doctor? What did they want with you?”
The Doctor tenses visibly at the question, his shoulders hunching forward and his face looking pinched as he clearly struggles with emotions. The look in his eyes is one Jack’s only seen in survivors of war. Of course, that’s exactly what the Doctor is. Silently, he takes the Doctor’s free hand in his own and waits.
We’re not going anywhere is the unspoken message.
“Doctor.” Rose moves closer and lays her free hand against the Doctor’s chest.
“They’re survivors of the Time War,” he says finally, and Jack blinks in shock. “Their homeworld was destroyed.”
“Like yours,” Jack says, and regrets it immediately; the Doctor doesn’t need the reminder.
“Not the same. Collateral damage, strategists call it.” The contempt in the Doctor’s voice is scathing. “Meaning they were innocents who just got in the way.”
“Hardly innocent. They were trying to kill you!” Rose points out, all protective fury.
The Doctor shrugs. “An eye for an eye. They knew it was the Time Lords’ war. An’ when they got inside my head they saw what I did.”
This time, he won’t ask. Won’t probe. Again, he’s seen far too many traumatised, battle-scarred veterans to have to ask; he’s known almost as long as he’s known the Doctor that this is someone who was forced to do something so terrible that it’s left him broken, unable to heal.
The Doctor’s the only survivor of his kind from this war, the Time War, that he thought was just a myth but apparently really happened. So, survivor’s guilt, definitely, but there’s more, too. Something happened to end the war, something that resulted in the wiping out of the Doctor’s planet and people. Yet the Doctor lives. Was he the catalyst of that destruction, perhaps?
If so, it explains so much.
“You had no choice,” Rose is saying softly. “I saw what one Dalek could do. Thousands of ‘em...” She shudders visibly.
“Try millions.” The Doctor’s voice is bleak. “Arcadia was my people’s last stand. We lost an’ the planet burned. Took half the Altaran solar system with it. These people - they’re Waraks. I looked them up in the TARDIS databanks. Energy creatures, though they can take reptilian form - sort of a bit like lizards - if they want to simulate a physical body. They’re psychic an’ telepathic. Like I said, they can read emotions.”
“Use them as a weapon, more like,” he points out. “You said they feed off things like pain and fear. They were using that to drive you insane.”
The Doctor nods. “Thing is, Waraks aren’t an aggressive species. Most of the time, they feed off the energy in their environment. ‘S just they can use negative emotions, too.” He gestures towards the monitor. “It’s all in the databanks. When they have to fight, that’s the weapon they use. They’ll provoke fear, anger, whatever an’ use it to suck their enemies dry.”
“Why you, though?” Rose demands. “What’ve you ever done to them?”
Staring somewhere off into the distance, the Doctor says, “Their homeworld was lost in the War. The Waraks out there...” He nods towards the door. “They’re the last three in existence.”
Three of them. That’s got to be better than one. But he doesn’t point that out.
“Doesn’t excuse them tryin’ to kill you, Doctor.”
“Wouldn’t you, though?” The Doctor turns; Jack can’t see his expression, but the emptiness in his voice tells its own story. “If your entire family - your entire race - was murdered in some fight that you had nothin’ to do with, wouldn’t you want revenge? An’ if you met the person responsible...”
“An’ if your people hadn’t fought the Daleks, then what?” Rose demands. “You think the Daleks would’ve left these... what’d you call them? Waraks?” The Doctor nods. “You think they’d have left them alive? Daleks were bred to hate, you told me. The only thing they wanted was to kill everything that’s not a Dalek, right?”
“You think it really matters whether you’re killed by the good guys or the bad guys? You’re still dead.” But now there’s a kind of black humour in the Doctor’s voice.
Jack tightens his grip on the Doctor’s hand. “True, but that’s what war’s like. It’s ugly, it’s destructive and it hardly ever solves anything in the end. Thing is, though, I’ve heard of the Time War. Not much, and we were told that it was just a myth, but I don’t remember your people starting it.”
“I ended it, though.” And that’s not something the Doctor’s ever going to forget. It’ll be a miracle if he ever forgives himself for it.
“Somebody had to,” Rose says. “An’, speaking for myself, there were worse ways.”
The Doctor blows out a breath, and his fingers clench painfully around Jack’s. “Yeah.”
All this rehashing of history’s not getting them anywhere, though. Yes, it’s filling in gaps for him and Rose, but it’s painful as hell for the Doctor. “So.” Jack summons his most Captain-like tone. “What happens now? These Waraks ended up on Earth in 3000BC. What’re they doing here? And, more to the point, what do we do about them?”
“I know what I’m gonna do.” Rose has broken away from the Doctor and is halfway to the door before either of them realise what she’s up to.
Together, he and the Doctor leap down from the console platform, but she’s already got her hand on the door and is pulling it open.
“Oi! You lot! Waraks! My name’s Rose Tyler, I’m a friend of the Doctor’s an’ you’re bloody well going to listen to me, like it or not. Right now.”
***
tbc
Author: wmr
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness
Rated: PG13
Disclaimer: Look, if they were mine we'd have had a lot more episodes between The Doctor Dances and Bad Wolf, just put it that way.
Summary: The Doctor seems to have got it a bit wrong. Again.
Written for the Anywhere But Cardiff ficathon on
time_and_chips. Beta-read by the awesome
dark_aegis. And, sorry, but it's grown once more. The fifth chapter is definitely the final one, though!
Chapter 1: Cold as Snow l Chapter 2: The Deed and the Plan l Chapter 3: The Judgement of Man
Chapter 4: The Motive that Lieth Below
“Doctor? Doctor, what is it?” He’s gone silent again, and utterly still, just like before. This is bad.
Jack drops Rose’s gloved hand, striding around to stand in front of the Doctor. As he feared, the Time Lord’s just staring, unseeing, into space. He waves a hand in front of the Doctor’s eyes. There’s no reaction. Nothing.
Damn.
Bad enough for this to happen any time, but if they don’t get back to the TARDIS any time soon none of them is going to escape without at least some permanent damage. Frostbite’s nasty. He’s seen it before, and hypothermia, too. They have to keep moving.
“Jack? Doctor! What’s goin’ on?”
“We’ve lost him again, Rose. Dunno why, or who these people or things are, but they’ve got him again.”
“Then we’ll get him back again.” Such certainty she’s got, and he thought he was over-confident at times. But then that’s one of the things that draws the Doctor to her, that makes him value her so much.
“Yeah. We will.” What worked before? They were talking to him, sure, but that didn’t seem to have an effect. It was only when Rose kissed him -
Right. Without hesitation, he leans in and kisses the Doctor, hard. No point being gentle or tentative, not in this situation. After a second or two, he traces the seam of the Doctor’s lips with his tongue. Abruptly, the Doctor’s lips part, allowing him entry, and there’s returning pressure.
He pulls back. “Doctor! Welcome back.”
“Huh?” The Doctor blinks, then stares at him, and a moment later grabs at Jack’s upper arm, as if he needs to steady himself. “Ah. They got me again. Right.” He blows out a breath. “Thanks for gettin’ me back.”
Now, that’s something he didn’t expect. Scathing accusations, yes; being told, in that icily sarcastic voice the Doctor does so well, never to do that again, definitely. Not being thanked.
He grins, even as another shiver wracks him. “Any time.”
“Doctor.” Rose is looking up at the two of them, eyes - all they can see of her face - anxious. “What jus’ happened?”
The Doctor’s looking anywhere but at them, and the expression in his eyes is of a man who’s seen far too much pain and suffering. The hand on his arm tightens, and a glance to the side shows Jack that the Doctor’s also holding onto Rose.
Just as he thinks the Time Lord’s going to blow them off again, he says, tonelessly, “They stole my mind before. Tryin’ to do it again.”
“Who are?” Rose’s anxiety’s turned to alarm.
“Aliens.” The Doctor shudders. For the first time since Jack’s met him, he actually looks scared. “Haven’t worked out who they are yet. But I will,” he adds, his tone harsh.
Rose moves closer to the Doctor. “We’re not gonna let them take you.”
Jack moves closer too, the two of them a united front surrounding the Doctor. “What can we do?” His hand’s already in his coat pocket, reaching for his blaster.
“Guns won’t help.”
“Then what will?” Rose demands immediately.
“What you were doin’ before.” His grip on Jack’s arm tightens again. “They’re telepaths. Feed off negative emotions: pain, fear, grief, anger.”
“Psychic energy,” he says, and gives a low whistle. “Been a while since I came across that kind of thing. Would’ve thought you’d find them easier to fight off than humans do - you’re telepathic yourself.”
“Haven’t attacked you two, have they?” He shakes his head. The Doctor continues, “They know I’m a Time Lord. That’s why they came after me.”
“More than one?” Rose asks.
“Far as I can tell.”
“They could’ve... attacked all of us, then.” She’s shivering again and, without moving away from the Doctor, Jack pulls her close, wrapping his free arm around her. “They didn’t, so maybe whatever they do doesn’t work on humans?”
The Doctor stills. Then a slow grin spreads across his face. “Rose Tyler, you’re a genius! Of course it doesn’t. Cause they can’t communicate with humans - you’re not telepaths.”
“That mean you know what they are?” Jack asks.
The Doctor shakes his head. “Nope. But I’ll figure it out. Got enough clues to be going on with.” Abruptly, his expression freezes again, but after a second or so he’s talking again. “They’re still trying. Need your help, all right? Both of you.”
“Anything,” Rose says instantly.
“Just name it.”
“Take this.” The Doctor passes the screwdriver to Jack, and he releases Rose to take it. “It’ll lead us back to the TARDIS. Need both of you to hold my hands. You bein’ there... it grounds me. An’ if I go off on one again, do what you did before, all right?”
Rose’s voice is shaky when she says, “Talk to you? Kiss you? That what you mean?”
The Doctor meets her gaze, and Jack sees Rose’s eyes widen at whatever she sees in his. “Yeah. Whatever it was you did.” He shrugs. “Worked before.”
Jack nods. “Fine. But let’s keep moving, okay?” Because it’s still bloody cold and even with everything they did to warm up back in the hut - and who knew the sonic screwdriver was a portable heater? - he and Rose will freeze to death if they’re out here much longer.
***
Gripping the Doctor’s hand tightly, she concentrates on trudging through the thick snow. It was easier earlier, when she was treading in his footsteps, but that’s not important. The Doctor needs the two of them holding onto him to stop those alien gits getting hold of his mind again, and that’s all that matters. Not her worry about what they’ve already done to him, what put that bleak, agonised expression back in his eyes. Not how cold she feels now, her feet rapidly turning to blocks of ice again, or even her wonder at him asking them to kiss him.
“What you gonna do about them, though?” she asks, and her teeth chatter the whole way through the question. “The aliens, whatever they are.”
“Nothin’, yet.” The Doctor tugs her closer, then drops her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his body. To keep her warm, or because he needs the comfort or protection of her presence? “Doin’ nothing else until we’re back in the TARDIS.”
He freezes suddenly. They’re attacking him again?
“Doctor?”
“Stay with us, Doctor.” Jack’s voice is calm, and he’s moving closer, wrapping his arm around the Doctor’s shoulders.
They feed off negative emotions, the Doctor said. Pain, fear, grief, anger. So positive emotions make them go away, maybe?
“Come back to us, Doctor.” She moves closer to him, sliding her arm around his waist. “You’re better than them, you hear? Much better. You make us want to be so much better.”
“Yeah.” Jack’s voice is closer than she expected, and she realises that he’s resting his head against the Doctor’s. “You know what I was when I met you. If I’m bigger on the inside now, it’s because you made me that way.”
“An’ if it wasn’t for you, my planet would’ve been taken over by the Nestene Consciousness. Ruled by plastic.” She moves to stand in front of him; he’s not moving, eyes open but not looking at anything or anyone.
She’s done it before, but it’s still nerve-wracking; this is the Doctor, and he very deliberately avoided kissing her back at the hut. But Jack did it and it got him back. She got him back earlier the same way. A deep breath, and then she pulls down her scarf, reaches up, lays gloved hands on either side of his face to pull his head down to hers, and presses her chilled lips against his cold ones.
For a second or two, there’s no reaction whatsoever. And then, suddenly, there’s shocked awareness, followed by returning pressure.
He pulls back, stares down at her for a long moment with bleak, fathomless eyes, then says quietly, “Thank you.”
***
He’s back with them, mostly. But part of him’s still fighting the Time War.
Because that’s what it is. That’s what they are, the creatures that have been stealing him away. Victims of his battles and his destruction.
They didn’t tell him that. It was their own lack of thought that allowed him to find out. Taking him, stealing his mind again, while he was with Rose and Jack, holding them, them holding onto him - when he was grounded by their presence - it meant he was stronger, more able to fight back. But, instead of fighting against them, he pushed in the other direction, towards them rather than away from them.
He still doesn’t know what species they are, but he knows where they’re from. The Altaran solar system, badly damaged in the aftermath of Arcadia’s fall. They’re from the Arcadian asteroid belt, and of course the environmental fallout from the destruction of Arcadia wiped out that entire asteroid system. They’re another remnant of a species left without a home.
And he saw it. When he pushed forward, into their consciousness, he saw the ripples from Arcadia burning, expanding, exploding. Saw, as if he was there, on the flight deck of the military spaceship, the asteroid belt catch fire and turn to dust right in front of him. He was the one desperately scrambling for control, trying to pilot the ship and its few passengers away from danger, trying to avoid being sucked into the inferno. He was catapulted through time, hurtling uncontrollably through the Vortex before crash-landing here, in this primitive time, without any means of escape.
He felt, too, in their minds hatred for the Time Lords as well as for the Daleks. Without either of them, none of this would have happened. His captors would still have a home, still have families and loved ones. Instead, they’re trapped on Earth, among an alien species in this primitive time, unable to leave, unable to live the way they’re used to. Prisoners, the last survivors of their kind.
Innocent victims or marauders taking advantage of the post-war confusion, he’s not sure. But there’s one thing he does know, and it’s that the Time War’s casualties are spread far wider than just the Time Lords.
“Doctor.” Rose’s voice is shaky from the cold, but he can hear the worry there too. “You all right?”
He can’t lie to her. “I will be.”
“What can we do?” He suspects that Jack’s only just pre-empted Rose with his question. “How can we stop them... doing it to you again? How can I kill them?” There’s anger in that last question.
“There’s been enough killing.” He didn’t intend that to come out as roughly as it did, but maybe it’s necessary.
“They nearly killed you!” Rose’s arm tightens around his waist.
They did. They would have, too, if not for the two people holding him, supporting him, using every tactic at their disposal to fight for him despite their own needs, the fact that they’re freezing cold and desperate to get warm.
He doesn’t deserve their care, their concern, their... yes, their love. But he’s got it, and right now he’s not going to question it because they need him to get them back to the TARDIS and to warmth and safety.
“Come on.” Emotion he’s trying to hide makes his words come out abrupt. “Let’s keep moving.” For their sake, and for his own: the telepathic creatures are still there. He can feel them at the edge of his consciousness, whispering to him, threatening, letting him know they’re not going to let him go.
This time, they’re not going to win.
***
When he glimpses blue through the white flakes, he thinks he’s imagining things. But then Rose’s weary exclamation of relief tells him he’s not. It really is the TARDIS.
He’d love to pick up speed, but by now the two of them are practically dragging the Doctor; he’s conscious, and even talking a little, but it’s obvious that he’s spent most of their journey fighting off the bastards trying to steal his mind. There’s one good thing about that, though: the exertion of holding onto him, keeping him upright has meant they’ve stayed warmer than they would have otherwise. Except their feet, and his face - unlike Rose, he wasn’t covered up everywhere bar his eyes.
“Inside,” the Doctor says sharply as he breaks away from the two of them and unlocks the door. “Into the med-lab, both of you. I want to examine your hands an’ feet.”
For frostbite, of course. Rose stumbles as she crosses the threshold, and he grabs onto her, though he’s limping himself now. The Doctor’s at her other side, and between them they help her through to the infirmary. Or maybe they’re just all leaning on each other.
In the med-lab, the Doctor turns brisk, instructing them to remove outer clothing, shoes and socks. His feet are red and feel rigid and stiff, wooden, with the occasional developing black spot, and his hands are in about the same state. Rose’s hands aren’t quite as bad, but still bad enough that, back in her own time, she’d be facing several hours of acute pain and discomfort during treatment.
“Didn’t help that you got frozen again after warmin’ up,” the Doctor comments, holding Rose’s hands in his and studying the damage. “Still, soon have you better.”
It’s only to be expected that the TARDIS has appropriate drugs and equipment to repair the damaged tissue and dull the pain. It takes half an hour or so for the Doctor to take care of both of them, and when he’s finished their skin and limbs all look good as new. No lasting damage - at least not to him and Rose. As for the Doctor - well, that’s another matter.
“You two should go an’ take hot baths,” the Doctor says, putting his equipment away. “Won’t be any permanent damage an’ you’ve warmed up, but still, it’d do you good.” With a brief nod, he leaves the room.
Rose catches Jack’s eye. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinking?”
Grim-faced, he nods. “He’s planning on sorting out those bastards on his own, without us there to help him.”
“No chance.” Scrambling down from the treatment couch she’s been sitting on, Rose pulls on dry socks and shoes, conveniently provided by the TARDIS, and comes to stand beside him. “You comin’?”
He holds out a hand to her. “Right there with you.”
His feet may look as good as new, but the throbbing isn’t completely gone. Rose’s halting walk tells him that she’s in the same state. Yes, hot baths would have been a good idea - a single hot bath even better - but checking up on the Doctor is more important.
He’s in the control room, standing by the console, head bent, hands flat against the panel, looking as if he’s carrying the weight of the entire universe on his shoulders.
“Doctor?” Rose drops Jack’s hand and crosses the room, climbing up to stand beside the Time Lord. “You all right?”
The Doctor seems to shake himself, then raises his head, turning to look at her. “Thought I told you two to go an’ have a bath. You’re not healed yet an’ I don’t want to be responsible for you losing a toe or a finger.”
“Wouldn’t be your fault if we did,” Rose retorts, and slides her hand into the Doctor’s. Jack notes the slight hesitation before long fingers close around hers.
The Doctor shrugs. “You should go. There’s nothin’ you can do here.”
Like hell. He walks up to join the two of them by the console, standing on the Doctor’s other side. “Who are they, Doctor? What did they want with you?”
The Doctor tenses visibly at the question, his shoulders hunching forward and his face looking pinched as he clearly struggles with emotions. The look in his eyes is one Jack’s only seen in survivors of war. Of course, that’s exactly what the Doctor is. Silently, he takes the Doctor’s free hand in his own and waits.
We’re not going anywhere is the unspoken message.
“Doctor.” Rose moves closer and lays her free hand against the Doctor’s chest.
“They’re survivors of the Time War,” he says finally, and Jack blinks in shock. “Their homeworld was destroyed.”
“Like yours,” Jack says, and regrets it immediately; the Doctor doesn’t need the reminder.
“Not the same. Collateral damage, strategists call it.” The contempt in the Doctor’s voice is scathing. “Meaning they were innocents who just got in the way.”
“Hardly innocent. They were trying to kill you!” Rose points out, all protective fury.
The Doctor shrugs. “An eye for an eye. They knew it was the Time Lords’ war. An’ when they got inside my head they saw what I did.”
This time, he won’t ask. Won’t probe. Again, he’s seen far too many traumatised, battle-scarred veterans to have to ask; he’s known almost as long as he’s known the Doctor that this is someone who was forced to do something so terrible that it’s left him broken, unable to heal.
The Doctor’s the only survivor of his kind from this war, the Time War, that he thought was just a myth but apparently really happened. So, survivor’s guilt, definitely, but there’s more, too. Something happened to end the war, something that resulted in the wiping out of the Doctor’s planet and people. Yet the Doctor lives. Was he the catalyst of that destruction, perhaps?
If so, it explains so much.
“You had no choice,” Rose is saying softly. “I saw what one Dalek could do. Thousands of ‘em...” She shudders visibly.
“Try millions.” The Doctor’s voice is bleak. “Arcadia was my people’s last stand. We lost an’ the planet burned. Took half the Altaran solar system with it. These people - they’re Waraks. I looked them up in the TARDIS databanks. Energy creatures, though they can take reptilian form - sort of a bit like lizards - if they want to simulate a physical body. They’re psychic an’ telepathic. Like I said, they can read emotions.”
“Use them as a weapon, more like,” he points out. “You said they feed off things like pain and fear. They were using that to drive you insane.”
The Doctor nods. “Thing is, Waraks aren’t an aggressive species. Most of the time, they feed off the energy in their environment. ‘S just they can use negative emotions, too.” He gestures towards the monitor. “It’s all in the databanks. When they have to fight, that’s the weapon they use. They’ll provoke fear, anger, whatever an’ use it to suck their enemies dry.”
“Why you, though?” Rose demands. “What’ve you ever done to them?”
Staring somewhere off into the distance, the Doctor says, “Their homeworld was lost in the War. The Waraks out there...” He nods towards the door. “They’re the last three in existence.”
Three of them. That’s got to be better than one. But he doesn’t point that out.
“Doesn’t excuse them tryin’ to kill you, Doctor.”
“Wouldn’t you, though?” The Doctor turns; Jack can’t see his expression, but the emptiness in his voice tells its own story. “If your entire family - your entire race - was murdered in some fight that you had nothin’ to do with, wouldn’t you want revenge? An’ if you met the person responsible...”
“An’ if your people hadn’t fought the Daleks, then what?” Rose demands. “You think the Daleks would’ve left these... what’d you call them? Waraks?” The Doctor nods. “You think they’d have left them alive? Daleks were bred to hate, you told me. The only thing they wanted was to kill everything that’s not a Dalek, right?”
“You think it really matters whether you’re killed by the good guys or the bad guys? You’re still dead.” But now there’s a kind of black humour in the Doctor’s voice.
Jack tightens his grip on the Doctor’s hand. “True, but that’s what war’s like. It’s ugly, it’s destructive and it hardly ever solves anything in the end. Thing is, though, I’ve heard of the Time War. Not much, and we were told that it was just a myth, but I don’t remember your people starting it.”
“I ended it, though.” And that’s not something the Doctor’s ever going to forget. It’ll be a miracle if he ever forgives himself for it.
“Somebody had to,” Rose says. “An’, speaking for myself, there were worse ways.”
The Doctor blows out a breath, and his fingers clench painfully around Jack’s. “Yeah.”
All this rehashing of history’s not getting them anywhere, though. Yes, it’s filling in gaps for him and Rose, but it’s painful as hell for the Doctor. “So.” Jack summons his most Captain-like tone. “What happens now? These Waraks ended up on Earth in 3000BC. What’re they doing here? And, more to the point, what do we do about them?”
“I know what I’m gonna do.” Rose has broken away from the Doctor and is halfway to the door before either of them realise what she’s up to.
Together, he and the Doctor leap down from the console platform, but she’s already got her hand on the door and is pulling it open.
“Oi! You lot! Waraks! My name’s Rose Tyler, I’m a friend of the Doctor’s an’ you’re bloody well going to listen to me, like it or not. Right now.”
***
tbc