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Doctor Who: Reflections (15/21), (2/Jamie, Victoria), Adult.
Title: Reflections (15/21)
Author: Van Donovan
Rating: Adult
Characters: the second Doctor, Jamie McCrimmon, Victoria Waterfield
Pairings: Two/Jamie
Word count this chapter: 4,320.
Word count total: 87,791
Warnings: Slash and graphic sex. Spoilers through "Evil of the Daleks."
Summary: Charged with saving the universe, can the Doctor overcome his own darkness to defeat the Daleks?
Notes: This is a "Mirrorverse" fic, set in a splinter off "Evil of the Daleks." It isn't required you know either term/story, but it will heighten your enjoyment. This fic is rather dark and adult in nature, so be warned.
Thanks: to lithrael for the encouragement--this fic would not exist without her support (and for the help betaing :D, and the artwork, which is hers), and to irreparable for her amazing very-thorough beta skills. She is glorious. I feel I should be paying for her services. :D And to randominity who planted the seed.
(Crossposted to two_love, dw_slash, and dwfiction)
Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21.
Chapter Fifteen:
All around: that horrible, penetrating, familiar hum. The cold metal flooring reverberating with it, the walls singing its constant resonance; the very air droning that sickening, well-known sound as it permeated his body. His veins flowed with it, absorbing that hateful noise, until his heartbeats synced to the persistent, undulating rhythm. With a shuddering gasp, the Doctor awoke, a Dalek on a Dalek ship.
He jolted up, alarm and fear rolling into him at once, coiling horribly in the empty pit of his stomach. His first instinct was to run, fast and far. He was a prisoner on a Dalek ship and he had to escape! Then grief slammed into him like a battering ram made of solid duralinium, physically knocking him back against the wall. The synchronization of his hearts with the thrumming of the Dalek ship shattered, chest constricting tightly at the memory: Jamie, falling to his knees under the blast from the Dalek’s gun.
That lasted only scant seconds before the grief and the guilt uncoiled and became vitriolic poison in his body. He barely managed to shift himself to his hands and knees before he found himself retching. There was little in his stomach to begin with, but all of it came out, seeping into the holes in the floor grates. The rest spread across the floor, a stinking, slick brown mess. And still it came, and when there was nothing else to give, he choked on the air, dry heaving in absolute agony and remorse.
When finally his arms refused to support him any longer, he crumpled to the side, unmindful of the puddle he had made, but somehow missing it completely. He could not close his eyes, for fear he would only see that death-and the first one, so similar to it-played out over and over in his mind. Instead, he stared unseeingly at the ceiling and thought he would die of a broken heart.
Perhaps he would have, had he been left alone.
Hours-or minutes-later, the door to his cell slid open, revealing another nameless, faceless grey Dalek sentinel. Dipping its eyestalk to take him in first, it turned to survey the room in silence.
Blearily, the Doctor watched, his eyes dead and unfocused as he took in that hated form. If only it had really, truly killed him when it had shot. If only he had never awoken again to this miserable existence. “Back already?” he asked, his voice biting but paper-thin after vomiting. Furiously, he scrubbed the back of his wrist against his damp cheeks.
“The Dalek Supreme orders your appearance!” the Dalek said. “You will follow me.”
“Humph.” Uncooperatively, the Doctor shifted his weight, rolling over to face the wall. He fumbled in his coat pockets, hoping to find something to fiddle with, but discovered nothing. The dull ache in his chest would not go away, but it was gradually becoming possible to bear.
“Obey!” the Dalek demanded. “Obey!”
“Or else what?” the Doctor snapped. “You’ll kill me?” He laughed, derisively. “I wish you would.”
That had clearly stumped the Dalek, for it rocked back and forth for several seconds, as if considering its words. “The Dalek Supreme says if you do not obey, your companion will be exterminated!”
Slowly, the Doctor turned, looking venomously over his shoulder at the Dalek. His eyes narrowed. “You’ve killed him already. You’ve nothing left to barter with.”
Focusing its eyestalk, the Dalek said, “He is not dead. The blast was disciplinary.”
Before he quite knew it, the Doctor was on his feet, staring down at the Dalek. Hope was blossoming in his chest. He tried in vain to ignore it; its naïve innocence hurt almost more than the initial shock had. “Where is he!” he demanded.
“You will speak to the Dalek Supreme!” came the only reply.
“I’ll see Jamie first,” the Doctor hissed. “You could be lying.”
“Daleks do not lie!” it answered simply. “Follow me.” It turned its body 180 degrees in place before departing, keeping its vision focused on the Doctor.
He thought of sitting back down and abstaining. He thought of running down the corridor in the opposite direction. The very last thing he wanted to do was to follow this Dalek to speak with the Dalek Supreme. That was playing into their hands, the same way he had played into their hands for the last two decades. But if Jamie were somehow still alive, what choice did he really have? So long as the boy lived, he was at their mercy, and they knew it. In a way, he hated that fact.
Wiping his hand over his mouth and beard, he flung to the floor any bits of refuse that had remained clinging to his whiskers. Then, wiping his hands furiously on his handkerchief, he followed the Dalek out of the cell.
--
“Doctor!”
Upon a raised dais sat the Dalek Supreme, flanked by two grey Dalek sentinels and a host of technologically advanced machinery. It was the closest to a hierarchy that the Doctor had ever seen amongst the Daleks, though he knew-through rumor-that there was an Emperor Dalek hidden away somewhere-probably on Skaro. Though he had dealt with a Dalek Supreme on several occasions in the past, he had never been brought to one like this before, an escorted guest.
“I’m afraid so,” he answered.
“It is impossible!” the grey Dalek to the left of the Supreme bleated.
“Do not speak!” the Dalek Supreme said, turning its head enough to get the grey Dalek within its sights. When silence had descended again, it refocused its eyestalk on the Doctor. “You were captured on the planet Venus,” it said, its voice somehow slower, more methodical than the shrill voice of the other Daleks. “A human male was captured with you. Confirm!”
The Doctor was not sure if that was a question or a statement. His palms began to sweat. “A . . . a human, you say?” He pressed his fingertips together in front of him. “Imagine that!”
“Sensors scans confirm his identity as James McCrimmon, former traveling associate of the Doctor.” The Dalek Supreme paused, but the Doctor did not respond. “Human James McCrimmon was exterminated on the planet Skaro nineteen-point-six Earth years ago. Confirm!”
“Yes. You murdered him,” the Doctor said, jutting his jaw out, the lines in his face creasing into stark relief. “Is this some sort of tribunal? What’s going on here?”
“Do not ask questions!” the Dalek Supreme said. Turning its eyestalk, it viewed one of the monitors on display before it. Then, it lifted its eyestalk to fix him again. “You will explain the resurgence of Human James McCrimmon on the planet Venus. All human life has been exterminated. His existence is incongruous.”
Drawing himself up just a little taller made the Doctor feel more confident somehow. “You can destroy an entire planet,” he said coolly, his tone almost sinister, “but you cannot wipe out a species so easily! The human race survives, as it always has, though perhaps not on Earth.”
“Unsatisfactory!” the Dalek Supreme said. “The human race was exterminated. The colonies, rebels, and survivors: all were hunted down and destroyed! It is Dalek Fact.”
“Ah, but who did you task with such a job?” the Doctor asked, his tone growing bolder, bleaker. “Who did you put in charge of so onerous a mission?” Putting his hands to his lapels, he set his thumbs brushing against the fabric there. Though he stared up at the Dalek, he felt for all intents and purposes that he was the one on the dais, looking down. “Yes, it was me!” He laughed darkly, quite pleased with himself, his clever revelation. “You big, stupid tin pots! You assigned me the destruction of the human race!” With dark glee he rubbed his hands together. “Of course I let some slip through the cracks! Of course I disobeyed orders so monstrous!”
“You lie!” the black Dalek Supreme retorted.
“You don’t know that!” the Doctor hotly contested, stepping forward. “You have no idea, do you? And you’re frightened that I may be right. Humans are the Daleks’ one great fear! Humans and the Doctor, working together. It terrifies you and you don’t even have the capability to fear!” Tugging on his braces, he rocked back on his heels, trying to look smug. “Surprise! You’ve just let us in the front door.” He took great pleasure seeing the mighty Dalek Supreme pitch back and forth as it considered his words, assessing the threat.
“Human James McCrimmon was exterminated!” it suddenly rebuked. “Along with Human Victoria Waterfield. Their deaths are in the Dalek history banks! It is impossible for them to have survived extermination!”
Overhead, a large screen filled with static.
It resolved into the blackness of a poorly lit, oak paneled room, and there cowered a young girl in a beautiful Victorian gown. The camera angle was clearly shot from the view of a Dalek eyestalk, and it was this Dalek she was cowering from. There was no audio on the footage, but the girl was clearly screaming. She tore at her neatly coifed hair passionately and then turned away. She tried to run to the left, but something out of sight blocked her. Changing tactics, she bolted to the right. The view tracked her smoothly and when she got five paces away, a blinding flash of light trapped her. Her body froze in mid-air as the Dalek beam ripped through her, and then she collapsed onto her stomach and did not move again.
Abruptly, the view changed to reveal the steely grey corridors of a Dalek ship. Once again they were seeing through a Dalek’s eyestalk. The way it glided forward, past a doorway, and then back down the empty corridor proved it to be a patrol Dalek. On the second pass, there was suddenly a flash of something against one of the walls that hadn’t been there before. Turning, the Dalek moved to investigate.
Tensing, the Doctor knew what was to come, but found it still impossible to brace for it. To witness this murder again, from this new angle, would be anything but pleasant.
Continuing forward, more slowly this time, the Dalek’s view swiveled. And there was Jamie-his Jamie-alive and glorious, pressed against the wall, a look of fierce determination so easy to read in his good eye. The boy’s shiny dark hair swept over his brow, parted on one side. It gave a clear view of the scarring he now wore on the left side of his face, which had ripped through his left eye, obliterating it.
On the monitor, the boy’s lips moved, curling in a snarl, but there was no sound. He raised one hand, gnarled and missing fingers though it was, in defense against the Dalek. The other was busy trying to get at something out of the line of sight. Light played against Jamie’s face as the Dalek spoke, and the boy’s eyebrows shot up into his hair. Agilely, he twisted away, just in time to avoid the first blast from the Dalek gun, which exploded the wall instead. The eyestalk tracked his movements as the Dalek did, moving to engage in pursuit.
Something black and shapeless, that the Doctor knew was him, launched itself at the Dalek. It steered the creature off course, losing sight of the boy for several moments as it spun around. Mere seconds later it regained control, the boy whirling back in focus, having bravely but foolishly returned to help the Doctor. Focusing on him, Jamie skidded to a halt before the Dalek, eyes wide. The fierce determination gave way to fear. He began to back up, but when he turned to run, the boy’s bad leg gave out beneath him. The flash of light from the Dalek’s gun blast struck him in the back, hitting him before he even fell to the floor. Jamie screamed-soundlessly on the monitor-but did not twitch; he simply collapsed and laid perfectly still, his face permanently twisted with his death throes.
Before the view cut off, the Doctor saw himself again, looking from the boy’s fallen body back up at the Dalek, cold rage standing out on his face. Frightened by the change in demeanor, the Dalek rolled back, away from him, but the Doctor just kept approaching. That had been the day everything had changed.
Staring at the floor now, the Doctor furiously blinked the after burn of the scene out of his mind, trying to thwart any tears that threatened to form. He would not cry, not now, not in front of the Daleks. “What is the purpose of showing me these things?” he asked, though he knew full well why. The breath seemed to have been knocked out of him. The memory of his Jamie’s senseless death had slammed back into him, and the guilt he carried from that was magnified tenfold as he thought about the intimate moments he had shared with the other Jamie. Deep down, he knew he wasn’t betraying one by loving the other, but in that moment he could not help but feel utterly disloyal to the first. Scrabbling for the confidence he had had only minutes ago, he found it utterly depleted.
“These humans were both destroyed,” the Dalek Supreme said. “Their bodies were taken to refineries and processed.”
The Doctor did not want to hear about that; did not want to think about what horrible things had been done to Jamie after death. “Get on with it,” he interrupted, ashamed at how weak his voice sounded. “What’s your point? I don’t even know the girl.” It was hard to even think now, remembering the way he had felt when he had seen Jamie killed. How desperately he had wanted to avoid that fate for the other boy. How horribly he had failed them both. He had never been a good enough man to deserve the first boy, let alone a chance at second. For once in his life, his greediness disgusted him.
“Both are now alive,” the black Dalek answered. “Prisoners of the Daleks. Their presence is remarkable because they have both already been destroyed.”
Pressing his palms to his thighs, drying them, the Doctor tried to gather his thoughts. “Well, it must be some sort of mistake; a temporal anomaly. I am a Time Lord, you know.” Though his will had just been shattered, he had no intention whatsoever of revealing the potential for parallel worlds to the Daleks, not even if it meant his life. Not even if it meant being unable to protect Jamie. He only hoped the boy’s Doctor would step up to the challenge he had so disastrously failed.
“There are too many inconsistencies!” the Dalek Supreme said. “Logic dictates you know the answer. Explain!”
“I would rather die,” the Doctor snapped.
“We have your associate!” the black Dalek said. “His spatial scans are suffused with your DNA. Your affection for the human is well known to the Daleks. We would not hesitate to exterminate him to gain the answer to the mystery.”
“Then you’ll just have to,” the Doctor coldly replied, bristling at the threat. “I shall never help you again. There are just some things the Daleks should never know!”
“He will be tortured until you reveal the secret. We have a replica of your Chamber at our disposal. It is at optimal function.”
Horrified at that revelation, the Doctor took another step towards the dais. “You can’t use that on him!” he cried. “He hasn’t done anything!”
The Dalek Supreme did not reply, but swiveled its head to take in one of its flanking Daleks. “Confirm recognition!” it said, although it was obviously not addressing the Doctor anymore. A sudden icy hand passed through the Doctor, and he realized that he had just inadvertently revealed something important to the Daleks, though he couldn’t fathom what.
“It is confirmed,” another Dalek replied. “Elevated heart rates and glandular discharge concur!”
Threateningly, the Dalek Supreme swung its eyestalk back around, focusing on the Doctor. “We have acquired your duplicate,” it said, managing to sound superior. “He is more cooperative than you.”
“Duplicate?” he protested. “I . . . I don’t understand!” But he understood all too well. Apparently, the Daleks had captured the other Doctor and the human girl Victoria. The fools!
Overhead, the screen again filled with static.
It cleared slowly, revealing the very image of the Doctor, only clean-shaven and somehow younger looking. He was standing in the same room, near the very same spot the Doctor now stood in, yelling in muted silence at the Dalek Supreme.
“You will admit the truth now,” the Dalek Supreme said. “Dalek scans confirm it. You have established a cloning facility and created human replicants.”
Like a lead weight had lifted off his shoulders, the Doctor gasped at the revelation. He clutched at the potential answer desperately. “You can’t possibly know that!” he cried, hoping it was suffice enough a bluff.
“The replicant Doctor will continue your factory work,” the Dalek Supreme said. “All extraneous copies will be exterminated.”
“You can’t do that!” the Doctor contested, thinking quickly on his feet. “The . . . the molecular make up of the clone is not refined. It will break down and collapse in upon itself in a matter of weeks!” he bluffed. “Possibly even days! If you destroy me you cannot make more copies, not with the knowledge I’ve imparted to the ones I’ve made.” It was as boldfaced a lie as any he had ever told, but he was through being manipulated.
It was beyond time to go on the offensive.
“Daleks are familiar with cloning technology. Your assistance will not be required.”
“Oh.” The Doctor fretted, worrying his hands together. “Then what are you waiting for?” Defiant, he lifted his chin.
“We require the location of your cloning facility.”
“Oh, that.” Could he deceive them? Could he put off ‘revealing’ that information until he gained an upper hand? It was all he had left to bargain with. “Well, I’m hardly going to just tell you. Not if you’re just going to kill me if I do!”
“The planet Venus is being thoroughly searched. The logs of your travel machine are being scanned. We will discover its location.”
“Oh, really,” the Doctor said, breaking into a dark, amused grin. His palms rubbed together. “Yes, well. You do your searches. In the meantime, perhaps you had better lock me away somewhere safe.”
As soon as he was safe, out of this dreadful room, he would think of something. In the meantime, he just fervently hoped that Jamie was too important for negotiation to be killed.
--
When the doors to his cell opened, the Doctor sprung to his feet in surprise. He had settled into a pattern the last few days and neither Victoria nor food was scheduled for delivery right now. He quickly switched off the monitor he had been working on, smoothed out his frumpy coat, and stood to face the entrance.
He supposed he expected to see a Dalek glide in, to give him new orders or to request a status report update. He wouldn’t even have been surprised to find Victoria returned to him again, a little early. She usually was delivered, for a few hours a day. It wasn’t hard to imagine they might bring her a little early and then take her away that much sooner.
What he did not expect, however, was for two Dalek-converted humanoids to arrive, dragging Jamie’s unconscious body between them.
“Jamie!” he cried. “Oh, my word!” He started toward the humanoids, but then noticed the Dalek following behind them, and pulled back.
Unceremoniously, they dropped Jamie on the floor. He collapsed heavily, not moaning or otherwise moving. Concerned, the Doctor looked from him to the Dalek. “What’s the meaning of this? What have you done to him?” he demanded.
He received no reply. The humanoids stepped back and the Dalek raised its plunger, to key the door closed. It slid down with a final sounding whoosh.
Not waiting to see if anything else would happen, the Doctor hurried to Jamie’s side, hiking up his baggy trousers as he squatted down near the boy. He was in quite a state: hair in disarray, skin cool to the touch. It seemed he had recently been wet, but perhaps not cleaned: caught in the rain, perhaps?
After checking his vitals, the Doctor relaxed considerably, realizing the boy was merely unconscious, nothing worse. But where had he been all this time? How had he escaped the doppelganger?
“Jamie?” he said. Pillowing his coat under the boy’s head, he draped the threadbare blanket from his cot over him. Smoothing the hair from his brow, he spoke again. “Jamie? Can you hear me? It’s . . . it’s the Doctor. You’re safe now.”
At long last, Jamie took a deep breath of air, waking from his unconsciousness. Immediately he winced, undoubtedly fending a headache. Eventually he cracked his eyes open, blinking ruddily. “Doctor?” he asked, his voice rough and worn.
“Dear me, but you’re a mess,” he said, smiling tightly. “Victoria and I were quite worried about you, you know. I am glad you’re safe.”
“Doctor!” Jamie exclaimed, opening his eyes wide. The boy suddenly sat up, throwing his arms around the Doctor’s neck. He held on like he feared the Doctor might slip away.
“Oh, my,” the Doctor managed, chuckling softly as he wrapped his arms around Jamie in return. As he laughed outwardly, he felt a jolt of concern flash through him: what had happened to make Jamie so unsettled? What had happened to the double? Jamie didn’t speak, simply buried his feverish face against the Doctor’s cool neck. That’s when the Doctor smelled it-a peculiar, strangely familiar odor, clinging to Jamie’s hair and skin.
As soon as he realized what it was, he felt a hot flush spread through him and pulled away from the boy. “Jamie!” he cried. He wanted to ask what had happened to him, but he couldn’t seem to find the words. “How did you get away?” he managed to blurt, instead.
“Och,” Jamie groaned. “Everything hurts.” Putting a hand to his head, he closed his eyes wearily. “I thought I’d never see y’ again, Doctor,” he groaned. His eyes opened suddenly, looking around. “Where’s Victoria? Is she safe?”
“She’s fine. I think.” The Doctor pulled away from Jamie, but remained kneeling near him. “Well, we’re all prisoners of the Daleks now, but I think she’s safe. Rattled, of course, but aren’t we all?”
Studying him now, Jamie’s dark eyes looked like pools of liquid in the poorly lit cell. The boy’s gaze swept from the Doctor’s eyes to his mouth and then back up, brows furrowing as he scowled.
It was such a strange, deliberate glance that the Doctor couldn’t help but guess what it meant; could guess what Jamie was doing. “That other man had you, didn’t he? The other me. I feared he might have.”
“You’ve seen him?” Jamie asked, sounding anxious.
“On the TARDIS. He and I fought, and, I’m ashamed to say, he won. When I escaped from the room he’d locked me in, you were both gone.” He fixed Jamie with a look of concern, wanting answers but not wanting to have to ask the questions to get them.
Instead of turning to him, Jamie shrugged him away. “We’re in a . . . a parallel universe,” he said. The words sounded strange, coming from Jamie. “He’s this universe’s version of you.”
“Well, he isn’t very nice.”
“He’s trying to save this universe from the Daleks!” Jamie retorted. He started to get to his feet, was overcome by pain or disorientation, and fell back down. “He needs me.” Wearing a determined face, Jamie pushed up again and this time succeeded reaching his feet.
Remaining kneeling on the floor, hands resting on his thighs, the Doctor watched Jamie. There was such a strange disconnect happening. He could only guess what outlandish things the other him had told Jamie. “He used your DNA to callously destroy humanity,” the Doctor coolly said. “Is that what you mean?” While Jamie pondered his words, he stood up. “I’ve been going through the historical databanks here. I know what he’s done; what’s happened to this universe because of his evilness.”
The look in Jamie’s eyes was one of conflict. “He isn’t a bad man.” More pointedly, he said, “He’s you. How could he be evil?”
“That’s the nature of parallel universes, Jamie.” He shook his head sadly. “I’m starting to realize what’s happening here. He destroyed his own Jamie and to rectify the problem, he thought he’d just pluck another one out of any old universe he liked. Well, he’s failed again, hasn’t he? You’ve been recaptured by the Daleks. I assume that wasn’t intentional?”
When Jamie turned his back to him, the Doctor wondered if he wasn’t perhaps being too hard on the boy. In a somewhat softer tone, he said, “I don’t know what he’s told you, Jamie. But the man has helped murder billions of people and condemned billions more to life as a Dalek slave. No matter what he’s said to you, he’s a rotten egg. He’s the worst sort.”
“He needs help,” Jamie insisted, in almost a whisper.
“We all do.” Glancing at the door, and then back to the monitor he had shut off, the Doctor said, “And unless he’s got a trick up his sleeve, he’s in very hot water. No, let’s not argue the semantics of good and evil right now, Jamie.” Stepping up beside the boy, he put what he hoped was a comforting hand on his arm. In a clear, confident voice he said, “I’m going to stop the Daleks, and I need your help if you’ll give it.”
Author: Van Donovan
Rating: Adult
Characters: the second Doctor, Jamie McCrimmon, Victoria Waterfield
Pairings: Two/Jamie
Word count this chapter: 4,320.
Word count total: 87,791
Warnings: Slash and graphic sex. Spoilers through "Evil of the Daleks."
Summary: Charged with saving the universe, can the Doctor overcome his own darkness to defeat the Daleks?
Notes: This is a "Mirrorverse" fic, set in a splinter off "Evil of the Daleks." It isn't required you know either term/story, but it will heighten your enjoyment. This fic is rather dark and adult in nature, so be warned.
Thanks: to lithrael for the encouragement--this fic would not exist without her support (and for the help betaing :D, and the artwork, which is hers), and to irreparable for her amazing very-thorough beta skills. She is glorious. I feel I should be paying for her services. :D And to randominity who planted the seed.
(Crossposted to two_love, dw_slash, and dwfiction)
Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21.
Chapter Fifteen:
All around: that horrible, penetrating, familiar hum. The cold metal flooring reverberating with it, the walls singing its constant resonance; the very air droning that sickening, well-known sound as it permeated his body. His veins flowed with it, absorbing that hateful noise, until his heartbeats synced to the persistent, undulating rhythm. With a shuddering gasp, the Doctor awoke, a Dalek on a Dalek ship.
He jolted up, alarm and fear rolling into him at once, coiling horribly in the empty pit of his stomach. His first instinct was to run, fast and far. He was a prisoner on a Dalek ship and he had to escape! Then grief slammed into him like a battering ram made of solid duralinium, physically knocking him back against the wall. The synchronization of his hearts with the thrumming of the Dalek ship shattered, chest constricting tightly at the memory: Jamie, falling to his knees under the blast from the Dalek’s gun.
That lasted only scant seconds before the grief and the guilt uncoiled and became vitriolic poison in his body. He barely managed to shift himself to his hands and knees before he found himself retching. There was little in his stomach to begin with, but all of it came out, seeping into the holes in the floor grates. The rest spread across the floor, a stinking, slick brown mess. And still it came, and when there was nothing else to give, he choked on the air, dry heaving in absolute agony and remorse.
When finally his arms refused to support him any longer, he crumpled to the side, unmindful of the puddle he had made, but somehow missing it completely. He could not close his eyes, for fear he would only see that death-and the first one, so similar to it-played out over and over in his mind. Instead, he stared unseeingly at the ceiling and thought he would die of a broken heart.
Perhaps he would have, had he been left alone.
Hours-or minutes-later, the door to his cell slid open, revealing another nameless, faceless grey Dalek sentinel. Dipping its eyestalk to take him in first, it turned to survey the room in silence.
Blearily, the Doctor watched, his eyes dead and unfocused as he took in that hated form. If only it had really, truly killed him when it had shot. If only he had never awoken again to this miserable existence. “Back already?” he asked, his voice biting but paper-thin after vomiting. Furiously, he scrubbed the back of his wrist against his damp cheeks.
“The Dalek Supreme orders your appearance!” the Dalek said. “You will follow me.”
“Humph.” Uncooperatively, the Doctor shifted his weight, rolling over to face the wall. He fumbled in his coat pockets, hoping to find something to fiddle with, but discovered nothing. The dull ache in his chest would not go away, but it was gradually becoming possible to bear.
“Obey!” the Dalek demanded. “Obey!”
“Or else what?” the Doctor snapped. “You’ll kill me?” He laughed, derisively. “I wish you would.”
That had clearly stumped the Dalek, for it rocked back and forth for several seconds, as if considering its words. “The Dalek Supreme says if you do not obey, your companion will be exterminated!”
Slowly, the Doctor turned, looking venomously over his shoulder at the Dalek. His eyes narrowed. “You’ve killed him already. You’ve nothing left to barter with.”
Focusing its eyestalk, the Dalek said, “He is not dead. The blast was disciplinary.”
Before he quite knew it, the Doctor was on his feet, staring down at the Dalek. Hope was blossoming in his chest. He tried in vain to ignore it; its naïve innocence hurt almost more than the initial shock had. “Where is he!” he demanded.
“You will speak to the Dalek Supreme!” came the only reply.
“I’ll see Jamie first,” the Doctor hissed. “You could be lying.”
“Daleks do not lie!” it answered simply. “Follow me.” It turned its body 180 degrees in place before departing, keeping its vision focused on the Doctor.
He thought of sitting back down and abstaining. He thought of running down the corridor in the opposite direction. The very last thing he wanted to do was to follow this Dalek to speak with the Dalek Supreme. That was playing into their hands, the same way he had played into their hands for the last two decades. But if Jamie were somehow still alive, what choice did he really have? So long as the boy lived, he was at their mercy, and they knew it. In a way, he hated that fact.
Wiping his hand over his mouth and beard, he flung to the floor any bits of refuse that had remained clinging to his whiskers. Then, wiping his hands furiously on his handkerchief, he followed the Dalek out of the cell.
--
“Doctor!”
Upon a raised dais sat the Dalek Supreme, flanked by two grey Dalek sentinels and a host of technologically advanced machinery. It was the closest to a hierarchy that the Doctor had ever seen amongst the Daleks, though he knew-through rumor-that there was an Emperor Dalek hidden away somewhere-probably on Skaro. Though he had dealt with a Dalek Supreme on several occasions in the past, he had never been brought to one like this before, an escorted guest.
“I’m afraid so,” he answered.
“It is impossible!” the grey Dalek to the left of the Supreme bleated.
“Do not speak!” the Dalek Supreme said, turning its head enough to get the grey Dalek within its sights. When silence had descended again, it refocused its eyestalk on the Doctor. “You were captured on the planet Venus,” it said, its voice somehow slower, more methodical than the shrill voice of the other Daleks. “A human male was captured with you. Confirm!”
The Doctor was not sure if that was a question or a statement. His palms began to sweat. “A . . . a human, you say?” He pressed his fingertips together in front of him. “Imagine that!”
“Sensors scans confirm his identity as James McCrimmon, former traveling associate of the Doctor.” The Dalek Supreme paused, but the Doctor did not respond. “Human James McCrimmon was exterminated on the planet Skaro nineteen-point-six Earth years ago. Confirm!”
“Yes. You murdered him,” the Doctor said, jutting his jaw out, the lines in his face creasing into stark relief. “Is this some sort of tribunal? What’s going on here?”
“Do not ask questions!” the Dalek Supreme said. Turning its eyestalk, it viewed one of the monitors on display before it. Then, it lifted its eyestalk to fix him again. “You will explain the resurgence of Human James McCrimmon on the planet Venus. All human life has been exterminated. His existence is incongruous.”
Drawing himself up just a little taller made the Doctor feel more confident somehow. “You can destroy an entire planet,” he said coolly, his tone almost sinister, “but you cannot wipe out a species so easily! The human race survives, as it always has, though perhaps not on Earth.”
“Unsatisfactory!” the Dalek Supreme said. “The human race was exterminated. The colonies, rebels, and survivors: all were hunted down and destroyed! It is Dalek Fact.”
“Ah, but who did you task with such a job?” the Doctor asked, his tone growing bolder, bleaker. “Who did you put in charge of so onerous a mission?” Putting his hands to his lapels, he set his thumbs brushing against the fabric there. Though he stared up at the Dalek, he felt for all intents and purposes that he was the one on the dais, looking down. “Yes, it was me!” He laughed darkly, quite pleased with himself, his clever revelation. “You big, stupid tin pots! You assigned me the destruction of the human race!” With dark glee he rubbed his hands together. “Of course I let some slip through the cracks! Of course I disobeyed orders so monstrous!”
“You lie!” the black Dalek Supreme retorted.
“You don’t know that!” the Doctor hotly contested, stepping forward. “You have no idea, do you? And you’re frightened that I may be right. Humans are the Daleks’ one great fear! Humans and the Doctor, working together. It terrifies you and you don’t even have the capability to fear!” Tugging on his braces, he rocked back on his heels, trying to look smug. “Surprise! You’ve just let us in the front door.” He took great pleasure seeing the mighty Dalek Supreme pitch back and forth as it considered his words, assessing the threat.
“Human James McCrimmon was exterminated!” it suddenly rebuked. “Along with Human Victoria Waterfield. Their deaths are in the Dalek history banks! It is impossible for them to have survived extermination!”
Overhead, a large screen filled with static.
It resolved into the blackness of a poorly lit, oak paneled room, and there cowered a young girl in a beautiful Victorian gown. The camera angle was clearly shot from the view of a Dalek eyestalk, and it was this Dalek she was cowering from. There was no audio on the footage, but the girl was clearly screaming. She tore at her neatly coifed hair passionately and then turned away. She tried to run to the left, but something out of sight blocked her. Changing tactics, she bolted to the right. The view tracked her smoothly and when she got five paces away, a blinding flash of light trapped her. Her body froze in mid-air as the Dalek beam ripped through her, and then she collapsed onto her stomach and did not move again.
Abruptly, the view changed to reveal the steely grey corridors of a Dalek ship. Once again they were seeing through a Dalek’s eyestalk. The way it glided forward, past a doorway, and then back down the empty corridor proved it to be a patrol Dalek. On the second pass, there was suddenly a flash of something against one of the walls that hadn’t been there before. Turning, the Dalek moved to investigate.
Tensing, the Doctor knew what was to come, but found it still impossible to brace for it. To witness this murder again, from this new angle, would be anything but pleasant.
Continuing forward, more slowly this time, the Dalek’s view swiveled. And there was Jamie-his Jamie-alive and glorious, pressed against the wall, a look of fierce determination so easy to read in his good eye. The boy’s shiny dark hair swept over his brow, parted on one side. It gave a clear view of the scarring he now wore on the left side of his face, which had ripped through his left eye, obliterating it.
On the monitor, the boy’s lips moved, curling in a snarl, but there was no sound. He raised one hand, gnarled and missing fingers though it was, in defense against the Dalek. The other was busy trying to get at something out of the line of sight. Light played against Jamie’s face as the Dalek spoke, and the boy’s eyebrows shot up into his hair. Agilely, he twisted away, just in time to avoid the first blast from the Dalek gun, which exploded the wall instead. The eyestalk tracked his movements as the Dalek did, moving to engage in pursuit.
Something black and shapeless, that the Doctor knew was him, launched itself at the Dalek. It steered the creature off course, losing sight of the boy for several moments as it spun around. Mere seconds later it regained control, the boy whirling back in focus, having bravely but foolishly returned to help the Doctor. Focusing on him, Jamie skidded to a halt before the Dalek, eyes wide. The fierce determination gave way to fear. He began to back up, but when he turned to run, the boy’s bad leg gave out beneath him. The flash of light from the Dalek’s gun blast struck him in the back, hitting him before he even fell to the floor. Jamie screamed-soundlessly on the monitor-but did not twitch; he simply collapsed and laid perfectly still, his face permanently twisted with his death throes.
Before the view cut off, the Doctor saw himself again, looking from the boy’s fallen body back up at the Dalek, cold rage standing out on his face. Frightened by the change in demeanor, the Dalek rolled back, away from him, but the Doctor just kept approaching. That had been the day everything had changed.
Staring at the floor now, the Doctor furiously blinked the after burn of the scene out of his mind, trying to thwart any tears that threatened to form. He would not cry, not now, not in front of the Daleks. “What is the purpose of showing me these things?” he asked, though he knew full well why. The breath seemed to have been knocked out of him. The memory of his Jamie’s senseless death had slammed back into him, and the guilt he carried from that was magnified tenfold as he thought about the intimate moments he had shared with the other Jamie. Deep down, he knew he wasn’t betraying one by loving the other, but in that moment he could not help but feel utterly disloyal to the first. Scrabbling for the confidence he had had only minutes ago, he found it utterly depleted.
“These humans were both destroyed,” the Dalek Supreme said. “Their bodies were taken to refineries and processed.”
The Doctor did not want to hear about that; did not want to think about what horrible things had been done to Jamie after death. “Get on with it,” he interrupted, ashamed at how weak his voice sounded. “What’s your point? I don’t even know the girl.” It was hard to even think now, remembering the way he had felt when he had seen Jamie killed. How desperately he had wanted to avoid that fate for the other boy. How horribly he had failed them both. He had never been a good enough man to deserve the first boy, let alone a chance at second. For once in his life, his greediness disgusted him.
“Both are now alive,” the black Dalek answered. “Prisoners of the Daleks. Their presence is remarkable because they have both already been destroyed.”
Pressing his palms to his thighs, drying them, the Doctor tried to gather his thoughts. “Well, it must be some sort of mistake; a temporal anomaly. I am a Time Lord, you know.” Though his will had just been shattered, he had no intention whatsoever of revealing the potential for parallel worlds to the Daleks, not even if it meant his life. Not even if it meant being unable to protect Jamie. He only hoped the boy’s Doctor would step up to the challenge he had so disastrously failed.
“There are too many inconsistencies!” the Dalek Supreme said. “Logic dictates you know the answer. Explain!”
“I would rather die,” the Doctor snapped.
“We have your associate!” the black Dalek said. “His spatial scans are suffused with your DNA. Your affection for the human is well known to the Daleks. We would not hesitate to exterminate him to gain the answer to the mystery.”
“Then you’ll just have to,” the Doctor coldly replied, bristling at the threat. “I shall never help you again. There are just some things the Daleks should never know!”
“He will be tortured until you reveal the secret. We have a replica of your Chamber at our disposal. It is at optimal function.”
Horrified at that revelation, the Doctor took another step towards the dais. “You can’t use that on him!” he cried. “He hasn’t done anything!”
The Dalek Supreme did not reply, but swiveled its head to take in one of its flanking Daleks. “Confirm recognition!” it said, although it was obviously not addressing the Doctor anymore. A sudden icy hand passed through the Doctor, and he realized that he had just inadvertently revealed something important to the Daleks, though he couldn’t fathom what.
“It is confirmed,” another Dalek replied. “Elevated heart rates and glandular discharge concur!”
Threateningly, the Dalek Supreme swung its eyestalk back around, focusing on the Doctor. “We have acquired your duplicate,” it said, managing to sound superior. “He is more cooperative than you.”
“Duplicate?” he protested. “I . . . I don’t understand!” But he understood all too well. Apparently, the Daleks had captured the other Doctor and the human girl Victoria. The fools!
Overhead, the screen again filled with static.
It cleared slowly, revealing the very image of the Doctor, only clean-shaven and somehow younger looking. He was standing in the same room, near the very same spot the Doctor now stood in, yelling in muted silence at the Dalek Supreme.
“You will admit the truth now,” the Dalek Supreme said. “Dalek scans confirm it. You have established a cloning facility and created human replicants.”
Like a lead weight had lifted off his shoulders, the Doctor gasped at the revelation. He clutched at the potential answer desperately. “You can’t possibly know that!” he cried, hoping it was suffice enough a bluff.
“The replicant Doctor will continue your factory work,” the Dalek Supreme said. “All extraneous copies will be exterminated.”
“You can’t do that!” the Doctor contested, thinking quickly on his feet. “The . . . the molecular make up of the clone is not refined. It will break down and collapse in upon itself in a matter of weeks!” he bluffed. “Possibly even days! If you destroy me you cannot make more copies, not with the knowledge I’ve imparted to the ones I’ve made.” It was as boldfaced a lie as any he had ever told, but he was through being manipulated.
It was beyond time to go on the offensive.
“Daleks are familiar with cloning technology. Your assistance will not be required.”
“Oh.” The Doctor fretted, worrying his hands together. “Then what are you waiting for?” Defiant, he lifted his chin.
“We require the location of your cloning facility.”
“Oh, that.” Could he deceive them? Could he put off ‘revealing’ that information until he gained an upper hand? It was all he had left to bargain with. “Well, I’m hardly going to just tell you. Not if you’re just going to kill me if I do!”
“The planet Venus is being thoroughly searched. The logs of your travel machine are being scanned. We will discover its location.”
“Oh, really,” the Doctor said, breaking into a dark, amused grin. His palms rubbed together. “Yes, well. You do your searches. In the meantime, perhaps you had better lock me away somewhere safe.”
As soon as he was safe, out of this dreadful room, he would think of something. In the meantime, he just fervently hoped that Jamie was too important for negotiation to be killed.
--
When the doors to his cell opened, the Doctor sprung to his feet in surprise. He had settled into a pattern the last few days and neither Victoria nor food was scheduled for delivery right now. He quickly switched off the monitor he had been working on, smoothed out his frumpy coat, and stood to face the entrance.
He supposed he expected to see a Dalek glide in, to give him new orders or to request a status report update. He wouldn’t even have been surprised to find Victoria returned to him again, a little early. She usually was delivered, for a few hours a day. It wasn’t hard to imagine they might bring her a little early and then take her away that much sooner.
What he did not expect, however, was for two Dalek-converted humanoids to arrive, dragging Jamie’s unconscious body between them.
“Jamie!” he cried. “Oh, my word!” He started toward the humanoids, but then noticed the Dalek following behind them, and pulled back.
Unceremoniously, they dropped Jamie on the floor. He collapsed heavily, not moaning or otherwise moving. Concerned, the Doctor looked from him to the Dalek. “What’s the meaning of this? What have you done to him?” he demanded.
He received no reply. The humanoids stepped back and the Dalek raised its plunger, to key the door closed. It slid down with a final sounding whoosh.
Not waiting to see if anything else would happen, the Doctor hurried to Jamie’s side, hiking up his baggy trousers as he squatted down near the boy. He was in quite a state: hair in disarray, skin cool to the touch. It seemed he had recently been wet, but perhaps not cleaned: caught in the rain, perhaps?
After checking his vitals, the Doctor relaxed considerably, realizing the boy was merely unconscious, nothing worse. But where had he been all this time? How had he escaped the doppelganger?
“Jamie?” he said. Pillowing his coat under the boy’s head, he draped the threadbare blanket from his cot over him. Smoothing the hair from his brow, he spoke again. “Jamie? Can you hear me? It’s . . . it’s the Doctor. You’re safe now.”
At long last, Jamie took a deep breath of air, waking from his unconsciousness. Immediately he winced, undoubtedly fending a headache. Eventually he cracked his eyes open, blinking ruddily. “Doctor?” he asked, his voice rough and worn.
“Dear me, but you’re a mess,” he said, smiling tightly. “Victoria and I were quite worried about you, you know. I am glad you’re safe.”
“Doctor!” Jamie exclaimed, opening his eyes wide. The boy suddenly sat up, throwing his arms around the Doctor’s neck. He held on like he feared the Doctor might slip away.
“Oh, my,” the Doctor managed, chuckling softly as he wrapped his arms around Jamie in return. As he laughed outwardly, he felt a jolt of concern flash through him: what had happened to make Jamie so unsettled? What had happened to the double? Jamie didn’t speak, simply buried his feverish face against the Doctor’s cool neck. That’s when the Doctor smelled it-a peculiar, strangely familiar odor, clinging to Jamie’s hair and skin.
As soon as he realized what it was, he felt a hot flush spread through him and pulled away from the boy. “Jamie!” he cried. He wanted to ask what had happened to him, but he couldn’t seem to find the words. “How did you get away?” he managed to blurt, instead.
“Och,” Jamie groaned. “Everything hurts.” Putting a hand to his head, he closed his eyes wearily. “I thought I’d never see y’ again, Doctor,” he groaned. His eyes opened suddenly, looking around. “Where’s Victoria? Is she safe?”
“She’s fine. I think.” The Doctor pulled away from Jamie, but remained kneeling near him. “Well, we’re all prisoners of the Daleks now, but I think she’s safe. Rattled, of course, but aren’t we all?”
Studying him now, Jamie’s dark eyes looked like pools of liquid in the poorly lit cell. The boy’s gaze swept from the Doctor’s eyes to his mouth and then back up, brows furrowing as he scowled.
It was such a strange, deliberate glance that the Doctor couldn’t help but guess what it meant; could guess what Jamie was doing. “That other man had you, didn’t he? The other me. I feared he might have.”
“You’ve seen him?” Jamie asked, sounding anxious.
“On the TARDIS. He and I fought, and, I’m ashamed to say, he won. When I escaped from the room he’d locked me in, you were both gone.” He fixed Jamie with a look of concern, wanting answers but not wanting to have to ask the questions to get them.
Instead of turning to him, Jamie shrugged him away. “We’re in a . . . a parallel universe,” he said. The words sounded strange, coming from Jamie. “He’s this universe’s version of you.”
“Well, he isn’t very nice.”
“He’s trying to save this universe from the Daleks!” Jamie retorted. He started to get to his feet, was overcome by pain or disorientation, and fell back down. “He needs me.” Wearing a determined face, Jamie pushed up again and this time succeeded reaching his feet.
Remaining kneeling on the floor, hands resting on his thighs, the Doctor watched Jamie. There was such a strange disconnect happening. He could only guess what outlandish things the other him had told Jamie. “He used your DNA to callously destroy humanity,” the Doctor coolly said. “Is that what you mean?” While Jamie pondered his words, he stood up. “I’ve been going through the historical databanks here. I know what he’s done; what’s happened to this universe because of his evilness.”
The look in Jamie’s eyes was one of conflict. “He isn’t a bad man.” More pointedly, he said, “He’s you. How could he be evil?”
“That’s the nature of parallel universes, Jamie.” He shook his head sadly. “I’m starting to realize what’s happening here. He destroyed his own Jamie and to rectify the problem, he thought he’d just pluck another one out of any old universe he liked. Well, he’s failed again, hasn’t he? You’ve been recaptured by the Daleks. I assume that wasn’t intentional?”
When Jamie turned his back to him, the Doctor wondered if he wasn’t perhaps being too hard on the boy. In a somewhat softer tone, he said, “I don’t know what he’s told you, Jamie. But the man has helped murder billions of people and condemned billions more to life as a Dalek slave. No matter what he’s said to you, he’s a rotten egg. He’s the worst sort.”
“He needs help,” Jamie insisted, in almost a whisper.
“We all do.” Glancing at the door, and then back to the monitor he had shut off, the Doctor said, “And unless he’s got a trick up his sleeve, he’s in very hot water. No, let’s not argue the semantics of good and evil right now, Jamie.” Stepping up beside the boy, he put what he hoped was a comforting hand on his arm. In a clear, confident voice he said, “I’m going to stop the Daleks, and I need your help if you’ll give it.”