Story: We Know Who You Are
Author: wmr
wendymr Characters: Harriet Jones and cameos of Jack Harkness, Sarah Jane Smith, Martha Jones, Daleks
Rated: PG
Disclaimer: All the genius property of the BBC/Russell T Davies
Spoilers: MAJOR SPOILERS for The Stolen Earth; you have been warned.
Summary: You might have been voted out of office, but your obligation to do your duty doesn’t finish at the ballot-box.
With thanks to
dark_aegis, as always, for BR assistance.
We Know Who You Are
You should have had a Golden Age. It was meant to happen, but one man and six words stole it from you.
Twice, you saved the world from aliens; yet no-one believes it. You could have saved the world a third time and more besides if six words, whispered behind your back and giving you no opportunity to defend yourself, hadn’t defeated you.
You never stop wondering: was he right? Were you wrong to order that attack? But what if he was wrong and they came back? Could you have that on your conscience? Could he?
But then, he wouldn’t be there, would he? He’d have disappeared again, every bit as quickly as he destroyed your reputation and your career.
It was the act of a coward, of course, but you’ll never say it. You’ll keep doing what you believe is right, because you know that you were right: one day danger will come and the Doctor won’t be there.
So you’ll plan and you’ll work and you’ll use whatever means you have at your disposal. Because you know that one day you’ll be needed. You might have been voted out of office, but your obligation to do your duty, to save your country, doesn’t finish at the ballot-box.
You couldn’t do anything at Canary Wharf. It was too fast, too frantic and your main source of help then was at the heart of the attack. Compromised. Your sources told you later that it was even partly Torchwood’s fault. Again, the Doctor saved the day, though it was a close-run thing and many, many lives were still lost.
You saw film of the Doctor walking away after it was all over. In that moment, you saw a glimpse of the man you first knew, the one who cared about humanity, the one who could reassure you by his very presence when you were facing certain death. The one who knew how to love, and how to grieve.
You didn’t manage to do anything after that man won the election. It was still too soon; your technology and networks weren’t fully developed. You’d been busy helping with the election campaign, after all, trying to ensure that a worthy successor was elected, trying to work out why everyone you knew believed in this man called Harry Saxon. A nobody from nowhere, yet hailed as the conquering hero.
When he brought about the assassination of the President-Elect, you finally had proof, but it was too late then. But it was all right, wasn’t it? The Doctor was there. He saved the planet again.
Yet it was all his fault in the first place, wasn’t it? His actions created the power-vacuum that meant there was no-one there as a credible alternative to Saxon. For all his hubris, he’s as fallible as any human. As any Prime Minister.
Now, it’s time; the Earth’s in more danger than it ever has been before, and the Doctor’s nowhere in sight. Before, Torchwood and UNIT have stepped up, with or without the Doctor. UNIT did its duty during the Sontaran attack, and Torchwood has been quietly - or not so quietly - keeping the peace from Cardiff ever since Canary Wharf. But now UNIT is under attack, and Torchwood... is conspicuously absent.
The subwave network’s ready. Thanks to the help you got from some UNIT techs who respect what you did that Christmas and who salvaged a piece of software that turns out to be sentient, and the funding and assistance from the Mr Copper Foundation, you’ve got a means of communicating undetected by the Daleks. A means - if you can’t get to the Doctor himself - of tracking down his companions. His people. A secret army in their own right.
One by one, they appear. Sarah Jane Smith, many years ago a companion of the Doctor, met up with him again a couple of years ago, now a journalist and someone who’s foiled a few alien invasions herself. A good contact; a strong, solid woman to have on your side. You’d have liked her, if your paths had ever crossed before now. Still, maybe there’s time after this, if you all survive it.
Captain Jack Harkness, the infamous leader of Torchwood Three; he’s every bit as charming, as much the flirt as you’ve heard. Yet he’s not living up to the rest of his reputation right now, is he? Giving up? Ignoring your call? Telling his staff member to leave it be? Shame on him, you tell him. Stand to attention, you order. Is this really a man the Doctor trusted?
There’s a third signal, you can see, but it’s not focusing yet. Someone else to join the group. For a moment, your thoughts go to a young woman you met twice, who saved your life in that first meeting and gave you reason to hope the second time. But Rose Tyler is dead, listed among the very many people lost at Canary Wharf.
And, of course, it’s Martha Jones. Another strong, courageous woman, highly thought of by UNIT. Known to the Captain, too, it seems. Though his reputation in one respect is by no means exaggerated. The world’s about to end, and he’s still flirting?
You talk, explaining how and why you’ve brought them all together. Your network is programmed to seek out anyone who can help you contact the Doctor. All of them should know how. It’s strange, though; you’ve got the four of them, yet you get the oddest sense that there’s still someone else out there. Someone who hasn’t been able to get through. Yet that’s impossible, of course.
You explain what you need, refusing to get sidetracked or irritated by their inability to concentrate on the main issue. Though you can’t help defending your actions on that dreadful day when the Doctor turned against you, and making clear that you can put aside your personal feelings. Yes, he hurt you terribly, but he is the only one who can save the Earth. You need him. The whole world needs him. Your feelings are irrelevant.
That’s what public service is all about, isn’t it?
It’s all worth it, all those years of planning, the months of intensive working on the subwave network, the continual hiding of half of your life from your neighbours and friends. You could never tell them what you were doing. They wouldn’t have believed it. They’d have assumed the rumours were true, that you really had gone mad.
It’s going to work. All this technology, just to make a simple phone call - yet, of course, telephone calls save people’s lives every day. This Doctor’s just going to be coming from a little way further than the average ambulance, that’s all.
That same telephone call is going to mean your death, but that doesn’t matter. The Captain’s respect is gratifying, but it’s not what’s important. Yes, you know you’ll die, but the important thing is finding the Doctor.
If these are your last minutes alive, then at least they’re worthwhile. The one thing you feared from your life was ending it in the same way your mother did: in a nursing home, barely in your right mind, trapped inside your own body and unable to communicate, unable to do anything for yourself, dependent on the help of others.
You’re doing something good, something that will help save the world. It’s a small role, and no-one’s even going to know about it except the few people on the other end of the subwave network. It’ll never make its way into the history books. That’s not what matters. The phone call is being made. The signal’s being transmitted. If you’re very, very lucky - if the planet is very, very lucky - the Doctor will hear it and he will come.
You’re not surprised when the Daleks arrive, nor that they’ve got here before the Doctor. You take your time - you owe them no respect - saying your farewells to the Doctor’s companions, informing the Captain that he can take over, asking him to pass on a message. Only then do you stand and face the enemy. Only then do you do them the courtesy of even acknowledging their presence.
Three of them. They’ve sent three Daleks against one unarmed woman. You should be flattered, really. They consider you that much of a threat.
You refuse to go out without making a stand, identifying yourself, letting them know who they’re dealing with. You may be about to die, but you’re not afraid and they will know that.
“You know nothing of any human. And that will be your downfall.” Courageous last words, but you would never do anything else. You stand tall and unafraid as they focus their weapons on you. You are Harriet Jones, former prime minister, and you hope you’ve just saved the world.
You have no idea, as you face your enemy and they fire, the effect your actions have had, and will have, on the situation at hand. In a subterranean headquarters in Cardiff, in an attic in Ealing, and in two London sitting-rooms, as well as a blue box out in space, your courage has re-ignited hope.
The telephone call connects. In a blue box out in space, a weary, despairing traveller finds reason to hope, and to believe. The subwave network does its job. It’s just too late for you to see him and to know that your plan worked, but the Doctor has been found.
Old companions talk and prepare for the fight. The worst is yet to come, but there’s an army now, united and resolved.
This is your legacy, Harriet Jones. Your Golden Age. Others will be remembered for doing it, but the world could not have been saved without you.
Yes, Harriet Jones, we know who you are.
- end