FIc: Girl In The Mirror 'Verse: Chapter 3: Stories In The Dark
Title: The Girl In The Mirror ‘Verse, Chapter 3: Stories In The Dark
Author: psyfi_geekgirl
BetaBabe: akkajemo
Characters/Pairings: Twelve, Jack, Martha/Mickey
Rating: PG-13
Excerpt: Jack could barely contain the shock of the raw force of that statement. It was like all the doors on an airplane had blown out simultaneously. Gobsmacked, he stared at the Doctor, wondering if he’d just imagined it.
Word count: 2,918
Disclaimer: Until she’s Jossed, Twelve is mine-but of course based entirely on stuff that ain’t mine… All hail Auntie Beeb! Written before season 6, so some details will go AU.
TAKE NOTE: I also do not give anyone permission to post this in whole or in parts anywhere else! To do so would be very dishonest and terminally uncool and your actions would kill kittens, make puppy dogs cry and send the Reapers to eat your thieving flesh...
Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2
Two hours later, the Doctor, Jack, Martha and Mickey were sitting around a bank of large computer screens in the conference room of Torchwood One, still deep in conversation. Occasionally, Torchwood employees walked by their glass enclosed room, but left the group of them alone.
Jack sighed, letting the emotional impact of Doctor’s story sink in. “So. A human life with a half-human Doctor?”
“The best-case scenario if you consider my present situation-wasn’t it?” The Doctor absently fiddled with her old jacket. Talking about leaving Rose behind again wasn’t up there with the easiest of topics-especially after her recent trip down memory lane at the Powell Estates.
Martha shook her head, gravely. “And then Donna, too? That’s just terrible.”
The Doctor exhaled noisily. “Yeah, well, what are ya gonna do?”
“Were you alone after that?”
“Yep. Thought it better that way… So,” started the Doctor, eager to change the subject. “Trip alarms under the carpet in Rose’s old flat set off by weight and what else?” she asked, intently curious.
Mickey eyed her cagily. “Never you mind what else…”
“Aww, brilliant!” crowed the Doctor. “Did you activate the Subwave Network as well? Y’know for all of her faults, that Harriet Jones was a real smart cookie!”
“How long were you alone?” said Martha, eager to needle the Doctor back on track.
“Don’t worry, I found somebody after I regenerated.”
“Amy Pond,” Mickey supplied.
“Yes, Amy. But then-you’re Torchwood. You lot should know all about Amy Pond by now.”
Mickey nodded. “We had to, didn’t we? They came lookin’ to snag somebody-get to you or some such. It’s why we put Rose’s place on surveillance. We had ‘em all protected-‘cept Amy. She was the only one we didn’t know about. But she’s on the radar now. Doin’ just fine, by the way. She and Rory.”
“Ahh, the Ponds,” the Doctor smiled wistfully, touched a thumb between her eyes and then ran a hand through her hair. “Doing well… Well, good for them. Of course, nobody’s coming to scrounge for any of my old companions any more. The damage has already been done and undone. It was the Pandorica. Y’see, there were cracks in the fabric of time. The TARDIS exploded. I had to propel myself into it and disappear from time. It was a really long wait, but-fine now!”
Suddenly a buzzer went off, yellow warning lights spun in their housings and the gigantic metal bay doors of London’s relocated Torchwood One ground to life, slowly opening. Jack stood and watched as a large step-sided truck drove into the warehouse carrying a very familiar sight:
The TARDIS.
“Awww,” purred Jack in admiration as everyone walked out to meet it, “it’s good to see that beautiful old girl again!”
A Torchwood operative hopped out of the passenger side door and walked up to Jack with a clipboard and snapped off a taut salute. “You were right, Sir. Found it out in the square at the Powell Estates, just as you said.” The Doctor looked sheepish and Jack made a quick signature on the paper. With another salute, the man took the clipboard back and walked briskly back to the truck.
Martha looked startled and puzzled by the big, blue box. “But no, wait a minute,” she walked up to the truck to get a better look. “Hold on! It’s different!” She looked back at the Doctor, in disbelief. “Isn’t it? It’s changed!”
“Yeah, well-the whole thing’s different.” The Doctor stood and walked over to join her, watching with protective concern as the operatives lowered the TARDIS to the floor.
“How d’mean, different?”
The Doctor touched a thumb to her forehead again. “A bit of redecorating. Had a bit of an accident, me. The TARDIS had to rebuild herself after my tenth regeneration…”
“…Why?”
The Doctor grimaced. “Let’s just say it was a bit violent, that transition. But still,” she walked around the TARDIS, patting her sides, and continued suddenly in a lilting Northern accent, “no ‘arm done. Didn’t even need a man in-only took a few hours. Fast healer, she is. Everything’s fine now, even better, you could say! Pool’s still in the library, but I’m getting used to---Aaaaaaaahhhhkk!” The Doctor clutched the bridge of her nose and pitched forward in pain.
“Oh my God, Doctor! I’ve got you!” Martha grabbed her and Jack and Mickey scuttled up to help. As the Doctor came up and exhaled, another spindle of golden light was released into the air. “Is that what you saw?” Martha asked Mickey.
“Yep. Exactly the same as before, but that time she fainted.”
The Doctor frowned at Mickey as she steadied herself and muttered, “Timelords do not faint.”
“Oh yeah? Well boss, it sure looked a good impersonation of it to me.”
“Doctor, I triple-checked those scans. There’s nothing wrong with you… medically that is.”
The Doctor arched an eyebrow at Martha. “Oi! I don’t know if I like what you’re insinuating, Doctor Smith…”
“Are you sure it isn’t just Regeneration Sickness?”
“Yeah,” added Mickey, “it looks just like that Christmas he was out cold.”
“Look, I can assure you that this feels very different to a regular case of Regeneration Sickness. Nope, I don’ think it is. And after nine hundred years you’d think that I’d be rather an expert on it, don’t you? So I would appreciate it if you would stop talkin’ about things you don’t know anything about, Ricky! Thanking you…” she finished testily. Mickey’s mouth dropped open, eerily recalling the old, blue eyed, leather clad Doctor-the first Doctor he’d known. Hearing that old inflection coming out of this woman standing in front of him was unnerving.
Jack eyed her, too. There was something all too familiar about the cadence to her voice. “Doctor?
“Oh, what is it, Jack? Do you want a go too, or are you gonna tell me I’m being rude?”
“No, but I’m not sure if you’re yourself just now,” he said as diplomatically as possible, still clearly hearing a bit of the old Northern accent in the Doctor’s voice. Mickey just eyed her suspiciously.
“Jack’s right,” said Martha simply, a bit stunned at the Doctor’s sudden change in demeanor. This wasn’t the sunny-but-intense Doctor she was used to. “I want you to stay the night for observation. I want you to be here. Just in case. You can’t go traipsing off into time and space and have one of these ‘episode’ things happen to you. It’s not safe.”
“Stay here? At Torchwood? You gonna put me in with the Weevils?”
“No, we can hook you up to the Bioscan so if something should happen in the night it’ll register.” The Doctor groaned. “You won’t be tied down to the bed or inserted into a big, noisy plastic tube, if that’s what you’re worried about, you big baby,” reassured Martha. “We can attach nodes that work wirelessly. Then in the morning we’ll run more scans and see if anything’s changed.”
“Just great,” muttered the Doctor, “think I’d rather take my chance with the Weevils…”
“And I’ll stay here with you,” added Jack.
“So will we,” agreed Martha.
“We will?” asked Mickey.
“Yes,” said Martha, pointedly, “WE will. We’ll stay and keep you company, Doctor.”
The Doctor raised her eyebrows at In Charge Martha. “Well, I guess it’s settled. I’ll be staying here then.”
“Need a toothbrush?” teased Martha.
“Nope.” She produced one from her inside pocket. “Essence of Venusian spearmint.” She smacked her lips together, “yummy.”
Martha laughed, remembering a night from long ago.
“Our first real trip,” said the Doctor, wistfully. “I brought you to see Shakespeare.”
“No,” corrected Martha. “You brought me to 1599 and almost got me killed by witches-and made me budge up in a tiny little bed to make space for you and your big ego-“ she ignored Mickey’s noise of shock and disapproval, “-and then wittered on all night about how great Rose was and how much you missed her…”
Jack nodded soberly, “sounds like the Doctor.”
Mickey nudged her, “way to go, mate. You may be nine-hundred and some odd, but you’re still rubbish with the ladies!” The Doctor glared at him. “Which is good,” said Mickey, continuing his ribbing, “cos, no wing man alive can help you now!” He dissolved into fits of laughter.
The Doctor tried not to look beleaguered.
“Right,” Martha raised her voice over the sound of Mickey’s laughter at his own joke. “Let’s get you hooked up and sorted,” and she and marched the Doctor off in the direction of the Med Bay.
******
It was well after midnight in the now deserted Torchwood One, and despite having regenerated less than twenty-four hours previously, the Doctor was not sleepy, only adding to her assertion that this was not Regeneration Sickness. Instead, she was restless, and while Martha and Mickey slept in cots off in the corner of the Med Bay, the Doctor hunched over the computer readouts in the quiet and deserted office, the various electronic and computer noises keeping her company while she read her initial Bioscans.
Martha was right, there appeared to be nothing medically wrong with her.
Finally, she pushed the chart away with a sigh and rubbed an eye. “Don’t think for a moment that I’ve forgotten that you never really did answer my question all those years ago,” she said aloud to the figure in the doorway that had been there for a while now, still and hushed.
“I forgot,” came Jack’s voice evenly through the quiet room. “What was the question?”
“Do you want to die, Jack?”
“Do you?”
She shook her head. “S’not an answer.”
Jack walked up to the desk the Doctor sat at and leaned against it, watching her face. In turn, she sat back in the chair, crossing her arms in front of her and looked up at him, her chestnut eyes inscrutable and so… Doctorish-despite the female features. Jack started slowly, “If I remember, my answer was along the lines of: I thought I did, but seeing humanity surviving out until the end of the universe gave me hope.”
The Doctor chuckled softly and shook her head. “That isn’t exactly what you said. You said you thought you did but you didn’t know and then you changed the subject.”
“Is that what I did?”
She shook her head again. “Evasion. That’s nice. Good choice.”
“I learned from the best.”
The two ancient friends studied one another for a moment until the Doctor broke the silence.
“I envy you.”
Jack could barely contain the shock of the raw force of that statement. It was like all the doors on an airplane had blown out simultaneously. Gobsmacked, he stared at the Doctor, wondering if he’d just imagined it.
“I do. I envy you,” the Doctor repeated. “Jack, the two of us live impossible, protracted, brilliant and horrible lives. We are destined to outlive everyone we ever meet… or ever… love… Ours-at best-is a lonely, isolated existence…”
Jack smirked. “Right. And yet I still keep telling you I’m the only man for you,” he teased. “When are you going to come to that realisation too?”
The Doctor’s lips quirked up, “Well, when your life expectancy is nearly infinite, insight becomes a relative term…”
Jack laughed, but the Doctor’s eyes remained saddened.
“What I mean,” the Doctor continued, “is that I envy that you don’t change.”
“Y’mean regenerate?”
“Yeah,” she said, looking at her hands. “I don’t know which would be worse-regenerating into someone different all the time and having to get used to a whole new body and everything again, or being the same forever. Either way, we both experience death-“
“Not fun, is it?”
She shook her head. “Or pretty. But then again, you don’t have to experience this,” she waved her hands at her new face and body.
“Being a girl?”
“No… Yes. No. But it’s not just that, it’s everything. At least when you experience a death you know that in a few minutes when you come back you’ll be the same. It’s not a crap shoot with you.”
“So, you regret regeneration?”
“Not really, cos it’s all I know.” She shrugged. “I’m just saying that I regret not having control-“
“Control over what? Death? Oh, now Timelord, who’s the freak now? And you thought I was ‘wrong!’ Now you want to sign up to be a fixed point in time as well? Your Tenth regeneration may have been cheeky, but this one is downright heretical!”
She chuckled ruefully. “Yeah? Well maybe that’s what I am. Dunno. Still cooking. Although he was pretty set in his ways, that other one-all of those beliefs and staunchly held rules… Maybe I’ve just matured.”
“You look about the same age to me.”
“You didn’t see my last incarnation…”
“Do tell!”
“You just don’t have to get attached to one way of living only to have it taken from you.”
Jack sighed and looked off into the distance. “No. But with every death I really die. It all stops-your classic fade to black, but no credits roll-there isn’t anything, just a… nothingness. And suddenly that one, blessed, brief intermission is over and you’re snatched back and thrown into consciousness again… Sometimes I guess I wouldn’t mind if I woke up different… As long as I’d always get to be as stunningly handsome and dashing…” He stared at the Doctor, “or gorgeous…”
“But that’s just the thing,” said the Doctor, ignoring his flirtation, “getting to be different. Cos I do, and sometimes wildly. Martha said earlier-‘why didn’t you come back?’ In my last form I didn’t. I really just couldn’t. It’s hard to explain,” she said, skirting the issue-not wanting to be totally truthful about the fact that her Eleventh self just didn’t want to see them anymore.
“But it’s not like that now, is it?” asked Jack. “Something’s different.”
“How’d you know?”
“Earlier, you sounded like somebody else-well, you-but somebody else. An earlier you.”
“Who?”
“You had a Northern accent.”
“I did?”
“Yeah. It was around the time of that headache thing.”
“…I told you something was wrong.”
“So this isn’t Regeneration Sickness, then, is it?”
“No. It can’t be. This has never happened before-this feeling I have-like they’re all in there, looking out. Like I said, with each regeneration I change-physically, emotionally-there’s a basic personality structure that is unchanged, a basic ‘me-ness’ if you will; but mostly it’s like a new person takes over. Each regeneration has his own likes, dislikes, companions, and personality. Each incarnation has its testing phase-it’s still early days now-but normally once I’m done cooking I feel like a separate individual. The way I feel now, there are all of these voices in my head vying for control…”
“Like a collective.”
“I believe the term was conglomeration,” the Doctor said cheekily, causing Jack to laugh, remembering the Utopia that wasn’t.
“But Doctor, speaking of ‘conglomeration’-In all those years of Gallifreyan history, didn’t these things happen from time to time?”
“Spontaneous gender reassignment upon regeneration?”
“Yeah. Surely it had to happen occasionally?”
The Doctor shrugged. “I dunno. It’s true that you never know what you’re going to get-I told Rose before I regenerated after the Dalek business on Satellite Five that the process was dodgy-but the truth is that some Timelords could control the process. I just never stayed in school long enough to master it. But I never knew anyone who made the ultimate switch in gender.”
“So it never happened? I find that hard to believe.”
She shook her head. “I never said it didn’t happen, it’s just that I never knew anyone it happened to. But my people did have myths about it…” She looked off into the distance, remembering. “It was supposed to spontaneously happen only once in a millennia or something. It was supposed to be an event of great portent, but I can’t remember anymore-that was mystical stuff-wasn’t very scientific, not my field.”
“Don’t you wish you would have stayed in school now?” teased Jack. “Could have given you a clue for what’s going on with you now.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Jack-everybody’s dead. All the old myths were probably just stories to explain things that my early people found inexplicable anyway-just like all myths.” She finished, yawning loudly and indelicately.
“Whoa, cowboy. Regeneration Sickness or no-you need a nap.”
The Doctor looked around her, a little bleary eyed and nodded. Jack reached out and offering his hand, pulled her to standing. “Now, we’ll get you safely tucked in, kiddo.” Jack raked his eyes over the Doctor’s smooth, alabaster skin, “And would madam care for a bedtime story? A nightcap? A goodnight kiss…?”
“Time and a place, Jack…”
He winked. “So? Maybe tomorrow then?”
“Good night, Jack,” she insisted in mock annoyance.
“I could just hold you all night long. I hear girls like that sort of thing…”
“Jaaaack…”
“Oh, all right.” Jack watched the Doctor shuffle back into the Med Bay. “Oh, and Doctor?”
She poked her head back around the door with an expression that told him that if he was about to flirt with her again she was going to kill him for the 1,784th time.
Jack simply smiled. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Nighty-night, Cap’n,” she said, and it caught in her throat a little.
“Nighty-night, Doctor.”
Jack couldn’t help but notice the smile on her face as she walked away and he realised that he hadn’t felt this whole in years, with so many of his friends under the same roof again.
To be continued in Chapter 4: Strange Bonding Rituals
Author: psyfi_geekgirl
BetaBabe: akkajemo
Characters/Pairings: Twelve, Jack, Martha/Mickey
Rating: PG-13
Excerpt: Jack could barely contain the shock of the raw force of that statement. It was like all the doors on an airplane had blown out simultaneously. Gobsmacked, he stared at the Doctor, wondering if he’d just imagined it.
Word count: 2,918
Disclaimer: Until she’s Jossed, Twelve is mine-but of course based entirely on stuff that ain’t mine… All hail Auntie Beeb! Written before season 6, so some details will go AU.
TAKE NOTE: I also do not give anyone permission to post this in whole or in parts anywhere else! To do so would be very dishonest and terminally uncool and your actions would kill kittens, make puppy dogs cry and send the Reapers to eat your thieving flesh...
Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2
Two hours later, the Doctor, Jack, Martha and Mickey were sitting around a bank of large computer screens in the conference room of Torchwood One, still deep in conversation. Occasionally, Torchwood employees walked by their glass enclosed room, but left the group of them alone.
Jack sighed, letting the emotional impact of Doctor’s story sink in. “So. A human life with a half-human Doctor?”
“The best-case scenario if you consider my present situation-wasn’t it?” The Doctor absently fiddled with her old jacket. Talking about leaving Rose behind again wasn’t up there with the easiest of topics-especially after her recent trip down memory lane at the Powell Estates.
Martha shook her head, gravely. “And then Donna, too? That’s just terrible.”
The Doctor exhaled noisily. “Yeah, well, what are ya gonna do?”
“Were you alone after that?”
“Yep. Thought it better that way… So,” started the Doctor, eager to change the subject. “Trip alarms under the carpet in Rose’s old flat set off by weight and what else?” she asked, intently curious.
Mickey eyed her cagily. “Never you mind what else…”
“Aww, brilliant!” crowed the Doctor. “Did you activate the Subwave Network as well? Y’know for all of her faults, that Harriet Jones was a real smart cookie!”
“How long were you alone?” said Martha, eager to needle the Doctor back on track.
“Don’t worry, I found somebody after I regenerated.”
“Amy Pond,” Mickey supplied.
“Yes, Amy. But then-you’re Torchwood. You lot should know all about Amy Pond by now.”
Mickey nodded. “We had to, didn’t we? They came lookin’ to snag somebody-get to you or some such. It’s why we put Rose’s place on surveillance. We had ‘em all protected-‘cept Amy. She was the only one we didn’t know about. But she’s on the radar now. Doin’ just fine, by the way. She and Rory.”
“Ahh, the Ponds,” the Doctor smiled wistfully, touched a thumb between her eyes and then ran a hand through her hair. “Doing well… Well, good for them. Of course, nobody’s coming to scrounge for any of my old companions any more. The damage has already been done and undone. It was the Pandorica. Y’see, there were cracks in the fabric of time. The TARDIS exploded. I had to propel myself into it and disappear from time. It was a really long wait, but-fine now!”
Suddenly a buzzer went off, yellow warning lights spun in their housings and the gigantic metal bay doors of London’s relocated Torchwood One ground to life, slowly opening. Jack stood and watched as a large step-sided truck drove into the warehouse carrying a very familiar sight:
The TARDIS.
“Awww,” purred Jack in admiration as everyone walked out to meet it, “it’s good to see that beautiful old girl again!”
A Torchwood operative hopped out of the passenger side door and walked up to Jack with a clipboard and snapped off a taut salute. “You were right, Sir. Found it out in the square at the Powell Estates, just as you said.” The Doctor looked sheepish and Jack made a quick signature on the paper. With another salute, the man took the clipboard back and walked briskly back to the truck.
Martha looked startled and puzzled by the big, blue box. “But no, wait a minute,” she walked up to the truck to get a better look. “Hold on! It’s different!” She looked back at the Doctor, in disbelief. “Isn’t it? It’s changed!”
“Yeah, well-the whole thing’s different.” The Doctor stood and walked over to join her, watching with protective concern as the operatives lowered the TARDIS to the floor.
“How d’mean, different?”
The Doctor touched a thumb to her forehead again. “A bit of redecorating. Had a bit of an accident, me. The TARDIS had to rebuild herself after my tenth regeneration…”
“…Why?”
The Doctor grimaced. “Let’s just say it was a bit violent, that transition. But still,” she walked around the TARDIS, patting her sides, and continued suddenly in a lilting Northern accent, “no ‘arm done. Didn’t even need a man in-only took a few hours. Fast healer, she is. Everything’s fine now, even better, you could say! Pool’s still in the library, but I’m getting used to---Aaaaaaaahhhhkk!” The Doctor clutched the bridge of her nose and pitched forward in pain.
“Oh my God, Doctor! I’ve got you!” Martha grabbed her and Jack and Mickey scuttled up to help. As the Doctor came up and exhaled, another spindle of golden light was released into the air. “Is that what you saw?” Martha asked Mickey.
“Yep. Exactly the same as before, but that time she fainted.”
The Doctor frowned at Mickey as she steadied herself and muttered, “Timelords do not faint.”
“Oh yeah? Well boss, it sure looked a good impersonation of it to me.”
“Doctor, I triple-checked those scans. There’s nothing wrong with you… medically that is.”
The Doctor arched an eyebrow at Martha. “Oi! I don’t know if I like what you’re insinuating, Doctor Smith…”
“Are you sure it isn’t just Regeneration Sickness?”
“Yeah,” added Mickey, “it looks just like that Christmas he was out cold.”
“Look, I can assure you that this feels very different to a regular case of Regeneration Sickness. Nope, I don’ think it is. And after nine hundred years you’d think that I’d be rather an expert on it, don’t you? So I would appreciate it if you would stop talkin’ about things you don’t know anything about, Ricky! Thanking you…” she finished testily. Mickey’s mouth dropped open, eerily recalling the old, blue eyed, leather clad Doctor-the first Doctor he’d known. Hearing that old inflection coming out of this woman standing in front of him was unnerving.
Jack eyed her, too. There was something all too familiar about the cadence to her voice. “Doctor?
“Oh, what is it, Jack? Do you want a go too, or are you gonna tell me I’m being rude?”
“No, but I’m not sure if you’re yourself just now,” he said as diplomatically as possible, still clearly hearing a bit of the old Northern accent in the Doctor’s voice. Mickey just eyed her suspiciously.
“Jack’s right,” said Martha simply, a bit stunned at the Doctor’s sudden change in demeanor. This wasn’t the sunny-but-intense Doctor she was used to. “I want you to stay the night for observation. I want you to be here. Just in case. You can’t go traipsing off into time and space and have one of these ‘episode’ things happen to you. It’s not safe.”
“Stay here? At Torchwood? You gonna put me in with the Weevils?”
“No, we can hook you up to the Bioscan so if something should happen in the night it’ll register.” The Doctor groaned. “You won’t be tied down to the bed or inserted into a big, noisy plastic tube, if that’s what you’re worried about, you big baby,” reassured Martha. “We can attach nodes that work wirelessly. Then in the morning we’ll run more scans and see if anything’s changed.”
“Just great,” muttered the Doctor, “think I’d rather take my chance with the Weevils…”
“And I’ll stay here with you,” added Jack.
“So will we,” agreed Martha.
“We will?” asked Mickey.
“Yes,” said Martha, pointedly, “WE will. We’ll stay and keep you company, Doctor.”
The Doctor raised her eyebrows at In Charge Martha. “Well, I guess it’s settled. I’ll be staying here then.”
“Need a toothbrush?” teased Martha.
“Nope.” She produced one from her inside pocket. “Essence of Venusian spearmint.” She smacked her lips together, “yummy.”
Martha laughed, remembering a night from long ago.
“Our first real trip,” said the Doctor, wistfully. “I brought you to see Shakespeare.”
“No,” corrected Martha. “You brought me to 1599 and almost got me killed by witches-and made me budge up in a tiny little bed to make space for you and your big ego-“ she ignored Mickey’s noise of shock and disapproval, “-and then wittered on all night about how great Rose was and how much you missed her…”
Jack nodded soberly, “sounds like the Doctor.”
Mickey nudged her, “way to go, mate. You may be nine-hundred and some odd, but you’re still rubbish with the ladies!” The Doctor glared at him. “Which is good,” said Mickey, continuing his ribbing, “cos, no wing man alive can help you now!” He dissolved into fits of laughter.
The Doctor tried not to look beleaguered.
“Right,” Martha raised her voice over the sound of Mickey’s laughter at his own joke. “Let’s get you hooked up and sorted,” and she and marched the Doctor off in the direction of the Med Bay.
******
It was well after midnight in the now deserted Torchwood One, and despite having regenerated less than twenty-four hours previously, the Doctor was not sleepy, only adding to her assertion that this was not Regeneration Sickness. Instead, she was restless, and while Martha and Mickey slept in cots off in the corner of the Med Bay, the Doctor hunched over the computer readouts in the quiet and deserted office, the various electronic and computer noises keeping her company while she read her initial Bioscans.
Martha was right, there appeared to be nothing medically wrong with her.
Finally, she pushed the chart away with a sigh and rubbed an eye. “Don’t think for a moment that I’ve forgotten that you never really did answer my question all those years ago,” she said aloud to the figure in the doorway that had been there for a while now, still and hushed.
“I forgot,” came Jack’s voice evenly through the quiet room. “What was the question?”
“Do you want to die, Jack?”
“Do you?”
She shook her head. “S’not an answer.”
Jack walked up to the desk the Doctor sat at and leaned against it, watching her face. In turn, she sat back in the chair, crossing her arms in front of her and looked up at him, her chestnut eyes inscrutable and so… Doctorish-despite the female features. Jack started slowly, “If I remember, my answer was along the lines of: I thought I did, but seeing humanity surviving out until the end of the universe gave me hope.”
The Doctor chuckled softly and shook her head. “That isn’t exactly what you said. You said you thought you did but you didn’t know and then you changed the subject.”
“Is that what I did?”
She shook her head again. “Evasion. That’s nice. Good choice.”
“I learned from the best.”
The two ancient friends studied one another for a moment until the Doctor broke the silence.
“I envy you.”
Jack could barely contain the shock of the raw force of that statement. It was like all the doors on an airplane had blown out simultaneously. Gobsmacked, he stared at the Doctor, wondering if he’d just imagined it.
“I do. I envy you,” the Doctor repeated. “Jack, the two of us live impossible, protracted, brilliant and horrible lives. We are destined to outlive everyone we ever meet… or ever… love… Ours-at best-is a lonely, isolated existence…”
Jack smirked. “Right. And yet I still keep telling you I’m the only man for you,” he teased. “When are you going to come to that realisation too?”
The Doctor’s lips quirked up, “Well, when your life expectancy is nearly infinite, insight becomes a relative term…”
Jack laughed, but the Doctor’s eyes remained saddened.
“What I mean,” the Doctor continued, “is that I envy that you don’t change.”
“Y’mean regenerate?”
“Yeah,” she said, looking at her hands. “I don’t know which would be worse-regenerating into someone different all the time and having to get used to a whole new body and everything again, or being the same forever. Either way, we both experience death-“
“Not fun, is it?”
She shook her head. “Or pretty. But then again, you don’t have to experience this,” she waved her hands at her new face and body.
“Being a girl?”
“No… Yes. No. But it’s not just that, it’s everything. At least when you experience a death you know that in a few minutes when you come back you’ll be the same. It’s not a crap shoot with you.”
“So, you regret regeneration?”
“Not really, cos it’s all I know.” She shrugged. “I’m just saying that I regret not having control-“
“Control over what? Death? Oh, now Timelord, who’s the freak now? And you thought I was ‘wrong!’ Now you want to sign up to be a fixed point in time as well? Your Tenth regeneration may have been cheeky, but this one is downright heretical!”
She chuckled ruefully. “Yeah? Well maybe that’s what I am. Dunno. Still cooking. Although he was pretty set in his ways, that other one-all of those beliefs and staunchly held rules… Maybe I’ve just matured.”
“You look about the same age to me.”
“You didn’t see my last incarnation…”
“Do tell!”
“You just don’t have to get attached to one way of living only to have it taken from you.”
Jack sighed and looked off into the distance. “No. But with every death I really die. It all stops-your classic fade to black, but no credits roll-there isn’t anything, just a… nothingness. And suddenly that one, blessed, brief intermission is over and you’re snatched back and thrown into consciousness again… Sometimes I guess I wouldn’t mind if I woke up different… As long as I’d always get to be as stunningly handsome and dashing…” He stared at the Doctor, “or gorgeous…”
“But that’s just the thing,” said the Doctor, ignoring his flirtation, “getting to be different. Cos I do, and sometimes wildly. Martha said earlier-‘why didn’t you come back?’ In my last form I didn’t. I really just couldn’t. It’s hard to explain,” she said, skirting the issue-not wanting to be totally truthful about the fact that her Eleventh self just didn’t want to see them anymore.
“But it’s not like that now, is it?” asked Jack. “Something’s different.”
“How’d you know?”
“Earlier, you sounded like somebody else-well, you-but somebody else. An earlier you.”
“Who?”
“You had a Northern accent.”
“I did?”
“Yeah. It was around the time of that headache thing.”
“…I told you something was wrong.”
“So this isn’t Regeneration Sickness, then, is it?”
“No. It can’t be. This has never happened before-this feeling I have-like they’re all in there, looking out. Like I said, with each regeneration I change-physically, emotionally-there’s a basic personality structure that is unchanged, a basic ‘me-ness’ if you will; but mostly it’s like a new person takes over. Each regeneration has his own likes, dislikes, companions, and personality. Each incarnation has its testing phase-it’s still early days now-but normally once I’m done cooking I feel like a separate individual. The way I feel now, there are all of these voices in my head vying for control…”
“Like a collective.”
“I believe the term was conglomeration,” the Doctor said cheekily, causing Jack to laugh, remembering the Utopia that wasn’t.
“But Doctor, speaking of ‘conglomeration’-In all those years of Gallifreyan history, didn’t these things happen from time to time?”
“Spontaneous gender reassignment upon regeneration?”
“Yeah. Surely it had to happen occasionally?”
The Doctor shrugged. “I dunno. It’s true that you never know what you’re going to get-I told Rose before I regenerated after the Dalek business on Satellite Five that the process was dodgy-but the truth is that some Timelords could control the process. I just never stayed in school long enough to master it. But I never knew anyone who made the ultimate switch in gender.”
“So it never happened? I find that hard to believe.”
She shook her head. “I never said it didn’t happen, it’s just that I never knew anyone it happened to. But my people did have myths about it…” She looked off into the distance, remembering. “It was supposed to spontaneously happen only once in a millennia or something. It was supposed to be an event of great portent, but I can’t remember anymore-that was mystical stuff-wasn’t very scientific, not my field.”
“Don’t you wish you would have stayed in school now?” teased Jack. “Could have given you a clue for what’s going on with you now.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Jack-everybody’s dead. All the old myths were probably just stories to explain things that my early people found inexplicable anyway-just like all myths.” She finished, yawning loudly and indelicately.
“Whoa, cowboy. Regeneration Sickness or no-you need a nap.”
The Doctor looked around her, a little bleary eyed and nodded. Jack reached out and offering his hand, pulled her to standing. “Now, we’ll get you safely tucked in, kiddo.” Jack raked his eyes over the Doctor’s smooth, alabaster skin, “And would madam care for a bedtime story? A nightcap? A goodnight kiss…?”
“Time and a place, Jack…”
He winked. “So? Maybe tomorrow then?”
“Good night, Jack,” she insisted in mock annoyance.
“I could just hold you all night long. I hear girls like that sort of thing…”
“Jaaaack…”
“Oh, all right.” Jack watched the Doctor shuffle back into the Med Bay. “Oh, and Doctor?”
She poked her head back around the door with an expression that told him that if he was about to flirt with her again she was going to kill him for the 1,784th time.
Jack simply smiled. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Nighty-night, Cap’n,” she said, and it caught in her throat a little.
“Nighty-night, Doctor.”
Jack couldn’t help but notice the smile on her face as she walked away and he realised that he hadn’t felt this whole in years, with so many of his friends under the same roof again.
To be continued in Chapter 4: Strange Bonding Rituals