Fic: Pinstripes & Jacquard ‘Verse, Chapter 6: A Stitch In Time...
Title: Pinstripes & Jacquard ‘Verse, Chapter 6: A Stitch In Time…
Author: psyfi_geekgirl
BetaBabe: akkajemo
Characters/Pairings: Twelfth Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Ninth Doctor, Mickey, Jack
Excerpt: She was free and felt once more like she could take on the universe. Whatever so-called chaos was coming for her, she was ready.
Word count: 4,277
Disclaimer: Until she’s Jossed, Twelve is mine-but of course, based entirely on stuff that ain’t mine… All hail Auntie Beeb!
A/N: Continuing Part II of Girl in the Mirror ‘Verse. Which, if you haven’t read yet, will give you important backstory and character details which are essential to this ‘verse (the link to the GitM masterlist is provided below). This series is a sort of Season Two. Also written before the end of DW season 6, so some details have gone AU.
Part I: Girl in the Mirror ‘Verse Masterlist
Part II:
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5
Having jumped together via the Vortex Manipulator, Jack, Twelve and Ten arrived on scene first. Mickey and Martha would stay behind at the base while a small backup of operatives would follow in the Torchwood van, kitted up for action and ready to storm in if/when needed.
The three ancient friends ran through the early evening commotion of the square at full bore for the Tyler flat. Ten, with his longer legs, seemed miles ahead of the other two, and the Twelfth Doctor marveled at the irony of watching herself-or rather, her former self-run. And whilst she herself loathed the running in her current incarnation, she would admit that there was a time and a place for it, and rushing to catch whatever had broken into Rose’s was definitely on the list of Important Things To Run For.
However, her legs were shorter, and she fell behind.
As the sodium lights in the square blinked on against the onslaught of the night, the Twelfth Doctor bobbed and weaved around the frightened people that had gathered in the square following the series of alarming earthquakes that had hit South London. In the distance, they heard the wails of emergency vehicles headed to parts unknown, but it only added to the general agitation of the populace.
As the Twelfth Doctor dashed past, she heard several panicked people shouting over each other. One haggard woman stood in the square with two terrified children under the age of three clutching at her. “When are they gonna come and help us?!” she wailed to nobody in particular.
“Oi, missy! Don’t hold yer breath!” shouted another woman somewhere in the crowd, “I reckon nobody’s in a rush to come help us in the Estates!”
Twelve watched Ten slip through the crowd ahead of her and reach the door to the stairwell first, his camel coat fluttering in just before the door shut behind him. Jack followed, and soon the Twelfth Doctor was inside the stairwell, although she’d had to wait a bit as other people rushed past her on their way down, fleeing the tall buildings. Her feet knew the way up the cold cement stairs by themselves. She took them two at a time. Her hearts pounded in her chest, as the memory of the last time she had been here floated back to her causing a sick feeling in her stomach.
The sick feeling was increased exponentially as there was another sickening jolt from the Earth below. She grabbed onto the battered metal handrail of the stairwell and listened as the world below erupted into noise from car alarms and more frightened shouting. All around her she heard the metal of the stairwell clanging with footfalls from people racing to get downstairs to safety.
London certainly wasn’t known for being Earthquake Country, after all.
Somewhere in the midst of it she could make out the Tenth Doctor calling for her.
“M’ok!” she yelled and pushing off the rail, resuming her climb.
By the time she reached the balcony hallway outside the flat, she saw her two comrades hunched over two injured people-apparent victims of the latest tremors. While both people had suffered apparent head trauma from falls or falling crockery, their accompanying family seemed downright hysterical.
“Your husband will be just fine,” said Jack to one frenzied woman. She wore a worn red bathrobe and her small, reddish, scruff of a dog barked its head off at Jack from her arms. “Cuts to the head always result in lots of blood. It looks scarier than it is, really…” he said, trying to reassure her.
“Oh, I don’ care ‘bout that,” said the woman. “Colin’ll be needin’ stitches, but wit these horrible earthquakes, how am I supposed to get ‘em to hospital??”
Meanwhile, the Tenth Doctor’s charge looked worse off, seeing as he wasn’t conscious at all. Twelve ran up to assist him.
“What’ve we got?” she asked him.
“Looks like a subdural hematoma. Marjorie here says he fell directly into the wall tripping over their scared toddler.”
“He’s unconscious. Needs hospital.”
Behind them, they could hear Jack on his earbud, calling for the Torchwood medical field team to help in the Estates while they waited for the city authorities to show up.
Twelve could see the door to the Tyler flat from where she was. It was ajar. She looked at Ten, who seemed just about as antsy as her. Both of them were itching to run in there and tear apart whatever had presumed to disturb the sanctity of the museum of Rose’s home.
“You should go in ahead of us,” said Ten, flatly. “We shouldn’t leave these people ‘til help arrives,” he said, eying Marjorie who clutched her screaming toddler to her and fussed over her unconscious husband while futilely trying to get her mobile to dial 999.
She looked at him, knowing he was right. “I can take your place here,” she offered.
“No,” he insisted. “It’s ok. We’re just outside if you need us. Go.”
Standing, she clasped Ten’s shoulder and walked toward the door. Pulling out her sonic, she ratcheted up her scowl.
She stepped inside the dark flat.
Once again she felt herself step backwards in time as her plimsolls hit the honeyed chevron parquet flooring in the entry. Memories, like squash balls, careened off the walls:
No, I get it! For once YOU’RE not the most important man in my life!
Doctor, wake up! Help me!!
Oh, I get her bezoolum-she doesn’t even say ‘thanks…’
However this time, she was ready for them. This time, they didn’t hit her. This time, it was different.
The last time she’d been here, she’d felt so lost and confused; so desperate and distraught. Feeling totally bereft, she had come here to find her moorings in an attempt to anchor herself to something familiar. She’d thought she was alone in the universe. Now she had so much more. This time, not only did she have friends, she wore her own clothes and she was no longer haunted by her past, nor was she tormented by her own reflection…
She’d found herself at last.
She was free and felt once more like she could take on the universe. Whatever so-called chaos was coming for her, she was ready.
Yet her sonic registered nothing.
Behind her in hallway outside, she could hear Jack and Ten organizing people to help ferry people to the emergency crews below that had finally arrived, but she was only dimly aware of their presence now. It seemed that by just walking into this flat everything outside had melted away.
Nearing the clear windowglass partition before the lounge, she took a sweeping glance of the entire room.
Many of the Tyler tchotchkes were in disarray: A few CDs, a plastic plant, and some candlesticks were on the floor; a few of the wine glasses in the curio under the kitchen pass-through were toppled over; and the pictures hanging over the mantle and over the sofa were askew. A vase and the mantle clock also lay in pieces on the floor.
The flat was certainly in a bigger mess than she had left it last time, although she couldn’t tell if that was from the tremors or an intruder-an intruder who was, at this very second, crouched in front the shelves over in the semi-darkness of the right corner, looking at the photos and trinkets.
He had closely shorn hair, wore a black jacket and Docs.
Great, she thought, it’s just some bloke! Not an alien at all, but just some local skinhead. Her bravado deflated slightly. After all the hype, she certainly wasn’t eager to bust some Estate ASBO who’d done a simple B&E…
Irritated beyond words that this was just another random human crime that threatened the sanctity of the flat, and not “The Chaos” that she kept hearing about, she took another look, sizing him up for the fight she was itching to give him.
However, while his back was still facing her, she clocked him for curiously older than the traditional ASBO age; his body language also suggested someone who was comfortable in his environment.
Turn around, turn around, turn around… was her silent yet frustrated internal mantra. She clutched her sonic, pointing it at the figure that remained with his back to her.
As if he could hear her thoughts, the figure in the room straightened up. A shine off the black of his jacket in the dark from the streetlights outside the lounge windows indicated it was leather.
However, as the intruder turned his head slightly to look at one of the photos, she caught a hint of high cheekbones, deeply set eyes and Romanesque nose.
The ears looked a little big for his head, too…
The Twelfth Doctor’s eyes grew wide as an ice floe of dread seeped into her hearts.
But it couldn’t be…
She gasped and snapped on the lights to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.
The man turned around. Looking indignant, his Northern accent and sharp blue eyes cut through the silence in the room: “Oi! Just what do you think you’re doin’? Haven’t you ever ‘eard of knocking?”
The Twelfth Doctor stood face to face with her Ninth self in the centre of the Tyler’s lounge.
And he didn’t know her.
She gaped at the Ninth Doctor, completely unable to hide her shock.
Having heard that chaos was coming, she’d expected just about anything to be lying in wait for her, but certainly not this. Her brain churned on overload to determine precisely where and when this Doctor had come from.
Was this another forgotten day, like the last?
At this point, she had no ideas-but once again she was face-to-face with yet another version of the nosiest bugger in the universe…
“Are you deaf or something?” he barked. “I said, who the hell are you and what are you doin’ here?”
“Uh…” She stammered, playing for time in this extraordinary circumstance with shattered nerves. At least she had thought to quickly pocket her sonic. “I oughta ask you that, Mister,” she began indignantly. “Who the hell are you to just barge in here? Are Rose and Jacks even home? I found the door wide open, flat all dark-who’s to say you aren’t in here nicking things?”
“Like I’d want any of this old junk,” he muttered, turning his nose up at the jumble sale contents of the flat. “Still, fast thinker, you. I like that. What’s your name?”
Grasping at straws, she grabbed the first name on hand: “I’m Rose’s mate, Shareen. Who the bloody hell are you?”
“Oi! Language!”
“What of it?” she challenged.
He guffawed in spite of himself. “Spunky. I like that, too. No wonder Rose likes you. So! The infamous Shareen at last! Heard a lot about you, I ‘ave.”
“Well, that’s nice, considering I’ve not heard one lick about you, Mister Tippin’ Over the Tylers!” Twelve was getting into her role of Rose’s street-smart grade school friend from the Estates. Technically, they had never met-not in any incarnation-but the Doctor figured she’d heard enough stories from Rose to be able to concoct a believable identity on the fly.
“Sure you ‘ave,” he replied confidently, smiling, “I’m Rose’s friend, the Doctor!”
The Twelfth Doctor couldn’t be sure, but she thought she detected a little chest puffing at the end of that sentence…
“Oh,” she smirked, completely unable to resist, “so you’re the old geezer who stole Rose away for a whole year! I heard about that.”
“Didja now?” He’d grimaced at the word, geezer. She snickered internally and marveled at the borderline compulsion to take the mickey out of her former self… Must be an innate Timelord behaviour, like regenerating, or understanding the threads of time, she thought…
“What are you doing here without Rose then?” she challenged. “If you are who you say you are, shouldn’t you be off with her on one of your traveling adventures?”
“Know about them, do you?”
“Only that you’re the designated driver…”
“Yeah,” he nodded; and Twelve thought that she saw a sadness fall like a shadow over his breezy expression.
“What’s the matter with you?” she asked, “Y’look like somebody stole your lunch money or sommat.”
“Where’s Rose?” he asked.
There was something simple and sad about his tone… Was it helplessness? He turned and faced the Twelfth Doctor/Shareen with an open expression of fear and doubt.
Her eyebrow went up. “Why? Wasn’t she with you?”
His worry deepened, “No. I don’t think so… I don’t…” he tapped his temple with an impatient finger. “I don’t remember. And there’s something else-“
Suddenly, there was movement as the Tenth Doctor came bounding in, presumably to help save the day.
He stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing his former self.
“It’s you,” breathed the Ninth Doctor.
“You know him?” gasped Twelve.
“No, but he’s in that.” Nine pointed to a photo on the floor-one that the Twelfth Doctor had thrown to the ground the last time she’d been there-a photo taken on Christmas day, 2005. Her Tenth self wore a red paper hat. So did Rose, but hers was pink. The two of them were huddled around the table, grinning like loons. Jackie had taken the photo before she’d brought out the pudding.
It’d been a very happy night… the happiest.
Still pointing to it, the Ninth Doctor turned back to the Tenth Doctor. “Who are you?”
“Me?” He asked innocently. “Oh, well I’m…er…ah…I’m…” he pulled at his earlobe and glanced over at the Twelfth Doctor whose expression urged him to play along. “I’m Trevor!” he announced. “Friend of Rose’s. Nice to meet you…um…” he prompted, waiting for Nine to introduce himself, with his hand held out for a handshake that did not follow.
“This is Rose’s fancy Doctor friend,” supplied Twelve.
“Oh, is it now?” he asked, conversationally, still clearly attempting to make sense of this new turn of events himself.
“Where’s our other buddy?” asked Twelve to Ten about Jack.
“Uhhh… It’s all sorted. He’s just finishing up outside,” he replied, still grappling with this new twist on reality.
Ignoring them, the Ninth Doctor started at the photo on the floor with a puzzled look on his face. “I don’t remember seeing this photo before,” he said. “When was it taken?”
“Ohhh,” said Ten, breezily, “there’s probably a date on the back…” The Tenth Doctor turned his head for a glance at the Twelfth. His brown eyes registered the identical measure of alarm and distress. While she hadn’t retained any of her telepathy in this regeneration, she knew what he was thinking, nonetheless. She could practically hear his thoughts: What is HE doing here??
For it was precisely what she was thinking…
The Ninth Doctor stood very still, staring at the photo on the floor, his hands hanging by his sides. “I can’t,” he said, softly, his lips turning into a sad snarl.
Something didn’t seem quite right.
“Aww, sure you can, big fella. I bet Rose’d appreciate it, you picking it up for her.”
“I can’t,” the Ninth Doctor repeated. He held his hands out in front of him, looking at them as if he didn’t know whose they were. He glanced up at them, his blue eyes wibbly at the edges, as if Fear itself had drawn worry on his face with Sharpie. “Aren’t you cold?” he asked, feebly. “It’s cold in here, isn’t it?”
If she didn’t know better, his tone almost sounded like something bordering on whining…
Ten and Twelve shared another concerned glance.
“Hey there, are you okay?” asked Twelve, her voice registering an octave higher as if speaking to a hurt animal or a child.
Again the Ninth Doctor regarded her, the worry etched upon his face, “I can’t remember where Rose went! Did I leave her somewhere? Why can’t I remember?”
Twelve looked down at her shoes, “I don’t know.”
“And why can’t I touch anything?”
The other Doctors’ heads snapped up. “What?”
“You two siblings?” asked Nine.
The be-suited, brown-eyed pair looked at each other again. “Something like that-“
“What did you say about touching things?”
Nine held out his hand as if in demonstration. “Nice to meet you, Trevor,” he said apologetically, resuming the handshake he’d ignored previously.
Regarding him warily, Ten’s hand stretched out to meet his…
…and passed right through Nine’s hand.
The Tyler’s lounge hummed with the buzzing of the Twelfth Doctor’s sonic as their two voices entered an equally agitated level. Their panic spilled over one another’s hasty exclamations like an overfilled glass of Guinness:
“He doesn’t register--” she exclaimed.
“-Is he on our temporal plane, or--?”
“-Yes! I mean, he’s not outside of time, if that’s what you’re implying--”
“-Then why isn’t he solid--?”
“You two aren’t Rose’s mates, are you?” asked the Ninth Doctor. “And what is that thing you’ve got in your hand?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” asked Ten, ignoring his question about the sonic.
Nine eyed him, warily. “And why should I tell you?”
Ten exhaled in exasperation and flapped his arms by his side in frustration. “Ohhh! You were always so difficult! I don’t know why she ever saw anything in you!”
“Oi! Just what the hell are you on about, Jim Dandy?”
“Stop it, will you both?!” yelled Twelve.
Suddenly the flat jolted and swayed: Another earthquake! They heard more shouts and commotion from the square and neighbouring flats. Instinctively, all three Doctors threw their hands out to help steady each other-but Nine’s went straight through…
Twelve’s green sonic sprang to life once again. She followed the planes of the walls down towards her feet and back out again.
“You’re never gonna believe this,” she said out of the corner of her mouth to Ten.
“Try me,” he said.
“The epicenter?”
Ten nodded, evenly. “It’s underneath us, isn’t it?”
She looked back to Nine. “Please, this is important! What’s the last thing you remember?”
The Ninth Doctor looked between the two brown-eyed strangers-one who was obviously holding some sort of sonic screwdriver, and another who was in a picture with Rose, looking oh, so happy…
He squinted his eyes against the jumbled thoughts in his head.
Twelve kept going. “Do you remember the Daleks?”
He looked up at her, a haunted, scorched look in his eyes. Daleks! Yes-he could remember them. His flesh could be burned from his body and he would still remember them…
But he said nothing.
“Barcelona!” said the tall, thin man in the ridiculously tight pinstriped suit. “Do you remember Barcelona? Dogs with no noses, yes? How do they smell? Terrible, right?”
The Ninth Doctor simply stared at him, narrowing his eyes. Didn’t either of these people feel how cold it was in here? And why were Rose’s friends talking about things they shouldn’t know about?
“You sang a song, and the Daleks ran away. That’s what you told Rose. Remember?”
He heard the screaming and the explosions in his head-all contrasting perfectly with the silent dissolution-his enemies evaporating into atoms of two parts Hatred and one part Intolerance. Beside him, Rose had been glowing brilliantly, tears streaming out of her gold-flecked eyes.
I want you safe, my Doctor…
She needed a Doctor…
A new voice cut through the fog in his head: “How ‘bout me, Doc? Do ya remember me?”
He opened his eyes and gaped in disbelief at the familiar man in the blue coat standing in the Tyler’s hallway.
His mouth formed one word:
“Jack…”
“Howdy, Doc,” said Jack, with sadness dimming his bright blue eyes. “Long time no see.” He shook his head. “Wow. Never thought I’d see that face again,” he exclaimed.
“Nor me,” said Ten.
“All right, that’s enough!” barked Nine. “Would you mind tellin’ me what’s goin’ on ‘ere?” He pointed to Jack, “What you’re doin’ ‘ere, and just who the hell are these two?” he said, pointing to the other Doctors, “and where the blazes is Rose?!”
“She’s fine,” answered Ten, eliciting a cold stare from his former self. “She’s safe,” he continued. “And she’s happy-at least I hope she is-she’s with her mum and other people that… love her,” he said, his voice thickening. “But she’s someplace very far away. It was the best I could do… I only ever tried to give her the best… You’d have done the same…”
The Ninth Doctor eyed the Christmas photo on the floor once again. The man in pinstripes before him, his arm around Rose, grinning like a loon. “What year is it?” he asked, evenly.
The brown-eyed Doctors glanced at each other. “Two-thousand thirteen,” answered Ten.
The Ninth Doctor’s eyes grew wide. “The Delta Wave…”
“You never used it,” said Twelve.
“Rose came…” said Nine.
“You took the Time Vortex out of her,” reminded Ten.
“I regenerated!”
Ten nodded.
“You!” gasped Nine, looking at Ten.
Ten nodded again. Twelve kept quiet, not wanting to complicate things.
“I’m not meant to be ‘ere,” stated Nine, simply. “Those earthquakes,” said Nine. “S’me innit? Me being ‘ere created a disruption in time.”
“’Fraid so, old buddy,” said Jack, sadly.
But there was another voice in the hall. It was firm and male. “Step aside, Jack.”
All three Doctors reacted to the voice, but it was the Ninth Doctor who spoke first. “Is that… Mickey??”
Jack stepped aside to reveal Mickey, in full-on Torchwood operative gear, holding a large tube with a trigger, connected to a silver backpack-looking thing. His brown eyes grew big, seeing the old Doctor, and he looked more than a little conflicted. “Hiya,” said Mickey.
Now the Twelfth Doctor spoke up. “Mickey, what the hell is that?!”
“Pretty flash, huh?” said Mickey, hefting the object in his hands. “I was just jokin’ about the tranq gun and net earlier…”
“Oh, it’s a Trap Box!” exclaimed Ten, eying the device. “Brilliant! I knew something like that could work!”
“It’s alien, of course,” Jack added. “Mickey called me while he was still watching the surveillance cameras here over the vidlink,” he explained. “He could see you two talking to someone but couldn’t hear them, just like with Ianto, earlier. He also figured out the disturbances were coming from here, too.”
“We tracked the epicenters of those earthquakes, too. We found the same results you did: It came from just underneath the flat. I called Jack to pop back to get me.”
Jack petted the Vortex Manipulator on his wrist, “You didn’t even hear me leave.”
The Twelfth Doctor’s (nearly shrill) voice interrupted the spontaneous outbreak of Macho Gear Envy: “Excuse me, but what in the Sam Hill is going on?”
Mickey nodded towards the Ninth Doctor. “He’s the reason behind all of this. He’s the Chaos we’ve been promised…”
“We don’t know that for sure-“
“Sure we do!” said Mickey. “They said the Chaos was here, so I put two-n-two together. Three Doctors sounds pretty chaotic to me!”
“Three Doctors!” gasped the Ninth Doctor, staring at Twelve, understanding.
“But Mickey, we can’t just-“
“Yes! Yes, you can,” said the Ninth Doctor quickly, turning to Twelve with an earnest look in his eyes. “And you know you must. If there are earthquakes now, what’s next? Reapers? Vortisaurs? Worse? I’m not meant to be ‘ere… Apparently, I’ve had my time…” he said, his eyes moving pointedly from Ten to Twelve, taking in the magnitude of having regenerated twice already. “And if Rose isn’t ‘ere any more…” he sniffed in an offhand way that was meant to cover the emotion inherent in what he was saying, “Then I don’t want to stick around, either.” He turned to Mickey and gave him a simple nod. “Do it,” he said, staring at the metal tube he held. “Mickey the idiot, grown up at last…” He smiled proudly at him-giving him one of those giant, daft grins that broke his face from ear to ear.
There was another aftershock that rippled from below them, and the Ninth Doctor’s grin faltered.
Once the ground settled again he snapped off a nod of reassurance to Mickey.
Torn between his feelings of empathy for the Doctor and knowing what was right, Mickey swallowed and nodded solemnly back at the Ninth Doctor, “Sorry, yeah?” he grimaced.
He pulled the trigger.
“MICKEY! WHAT ARE YOU-“ Twelve’s question was obliterated by the loud crackle of electrical noise-like a hundred old televisions stuck on a staticy UHF channel-and the sudden appearance of a greenish ray of light that burst from the cylindrical, vacuum hose-type object Mickey held. In the blink of an eye, the light enveloped the Ninth Doctor, whereupon Mickey pressed another button and suddenly the green light-and the Ninth Doctor-completely disappeared.
The remaining two Doctors gaped at Mickey.
Twelve turned to Mickey. “Where is he??”
Mickey reached back and tapped the silver rectangle on his back. “Safe and sound in the Trap Box.”
Her voice flowed like ice over molten lava, “So you just blew him away??”
“No. He’s stored in here, like that bio-data you talked about earlier. But what would you rather? Invite him down the pub for a chat while the whole of South London falls into the Thames? You heard ‘em yourself. He knew he was a threat! I’m sorry to say so, Boss, but I think you’re getting a little sentimental about-“
There was yet another rumble from below.
Ten spoke up, “We need to get Nine off this planet or out of this temporal plane if we’re to stop these earthquakes and close these rifts.”
She shook her head. “Oh no. It’s far worse than that… This isn’t the end of this.”
To be continued in Chapter 7: Borrowed Time…
Author: psyfi_geekgirl
BetaBabe: akkajemo
Characters/Pairings: Twelfth Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Ninth Doctor, Mickey, Jack
Excerpt: She was free and felt once more like she could take on the universe. Whatever so-called chaos was coming for her, she was ready.
Word count: 4,277
Disclaimer: Until she’s Jossed, Twelve is mine-but of course, based entirely on stuff that ain’t mine… All hail Auntie Beeb!
A/N: Continuing Part II of Girl in the Mirror ‘Verse. Which, if you haven’t read yet, will give you important backstory and character details which are essential to this ‘verse (the link to the GitM masterlist is provided below). This series is a sort of Season Two. Also written before the end of DW season 6, so some details have gone AU.
Part I: Girl in the Mirror ‘Verse Masterlist
Part II:
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5
Having jumped together via the Vortex Manipulator, Jack, Twelve and Ten arrived on scene first. Mickey and Martha would stay behind at the base while a small backup of operatives would follow in the Torchwood van, kitted up for action and ready to storm in if/when needed.
The three ancient friends ran through the early evening commotion of the square at full bore for the Tyler flat. Ten, with his longer legs, seemed miles ahead of the other two, and the Twelfth Doctor marveled at the irony of watching herself-or rather, her former self-run. And whilst she herself loathed the running in her current incarnation, she would admit that there was a time and a place for it, and rushing to catch whatever had broken into Rose’s was definitely on the list of Important Things To Run For.
However, her legs were shorter, and she fell behind.
As the sodium lights in the square blinked on against the onslaught of the night, the Twelfth Doctor bobbed and weaved around the frightened people that had gathered in the square following the series of alarming earthquakes that had hit South London. In the distance, they heard the wails of emergency vehicles headed to parts unknown, but it only added to the general agitation of the populace.
As the Twelfth Doctor dashed past, she heard several panicked people shouting over each other. One haggard woman stood in the square with two terrified children under the age of three clutching at her. “When are they gonna come and help us?!” she wailed to nobody in particular.
“Oi, missy! Don’t hold yer breath!” shouted another woman somewhere in the crowd, “I reckon nobody’s in a rush to come help us in the Estates!”
Twelve watched Ten slip through the crowd ahead of her and reach the door to the stairwell first, his camel coat fluttering in just before the door shut behind him. Jack followed, and soon the Twelfth Doctor was inside the stairwell, although she’d had to wait a bit as other people rushed past her on their way down, fleeing the tall buildings. Her feet knew the way up the cold cement stairs by themselves. She took them two at a time. Her hearts pounded in her chest, as the memory of the last time she had been here floated back to her causing a sick feeling in her stomach.
The sick feeling was increased exponentially as there was another sickening jolt from the Earth below. She grabbed onto the battered metal handrail of the stairwell and listened as the world below erupted into noise from car alarms and more frightened shouting. All around her she heard the metal of the stairwell clanging with footfalls from people racing to get downstairs to safety.
London certainly wasn’t known for being Earthquake Country, after all.
Somewhere in the midst of it she could make out the Tenth Doctor calling for her.
“M’ok!” she yelled and pushing off the rail, resuming her climb.
By the time she reached the balcony hallway outside the flat, she saw her two comrades hunched over two injured people-apparent victims of the latest tremors. While both people had suffered apparent head trauma from falls or falling crockery, their accompanying family seemed downright hysterical.
“Your husband will be just fine,” said Jack to one frenzied woman. She wore a worn red bathrobe and her small, reddish, scruff of a dog barked its head off at Jack from her arms. “Cuts to the head always result in lots of blood. It looks scarier than it is, really…” he said, trying to reassure her.
“Oh, I don’ care ‘bout that,” said the woman. “Colin’ll be needin’ stitches, but wit these horrible earthquakes, how am I supposed to get ‘em to hospital??”
Meanwhile, the Tenth Doctor’s charge looked worse off, seeing as he wasn’t conscious at all. Twelve ran up to assist him.
“What’ve we got?” she asked him.
“Looks like a subdural hematoma. Marjorie here says he fell directly into the wall tripping over their scared toddler.”
“He’s unconscious. Needs hospital.”
Behind them, they could hear Jack on his earbud, calling for the Torchwood medical field team to help in the Estates while they waited for the city authorities to show up.
Twelve could see the door to the Tyler flat from where she was. It was ajar. She looked at Ten, who seemed just about as antsy as her. Both of them were itching to run in there and tear apart whatever had presumed to disturb the sanctity of the museum of Rose’s home.
“You should go in ahead of us,” said Ten, flatly. “We shouldn’t leave these people ‘til help arrives,” he said, eying Marjorie who clutched her screaming toddler to her and fussed over her unconscious husband while futilely trying to get her mobile to dial 999.
She looked at him, knowing he was right. “I can take your place here,” she offered.
“No,” he insisted. “It’s ok. We’re just outside if you need us. Go.”
Standing, she clasped Ten’s shoulder and walked toward the door. Pulling out her sonic, she ratcheted up her scowl.
She stepped inside the dark flat.
Once again she felt herself step backwards in time as her plimsolls hit the honeyed chevron parquet flooring in the entry. Memories, like squash balls, careened off the walls:
No, I get it! For once YOU’RE not the most important man in my life!
Doctor, wake up! Help me!!
Oh, I get her bezoolum-she doesn’t even say ‘thanks…’
However this time, she was ready for them. This time, they didn’t hit her. This time, it was different.
The last time she’d been here, she’d felt so lost and confused; so desperate and distraught. Feeling totally bereft, she had come here to find her moorings in an attempt to anchor herself to something familiar. She’d thought she was alone in the universe. Now she had so much more. This time, not only did she have friends, she wore her own clothes and she was no longer haunted by her past, nor was she tormented by her own reflection…
She’d found herself at last.
She was free and felt once more like she could take on the universe. Whatever so-called chaos was coming for her, she was ready.
Yet her sonic registered nothing.
Behind her in hallway outside, she could hear Jack and Ten organizing people to help ferry people to the emergency crews below that had finally arrived, but she was only dimly aware of their presence now. It seemed that by just walking into this flat everything outside had melted away.
Nearing the clear windowglass partition before the lounge, she took a sweeping glance of the entire room.
Many of the Tyler tchotchkes were in disarray: A few CDs, a plastic plant, and some candlesticks were on the floor; a few of the wine glasses in the curio under the kitchen pass-through were toppled over; and the pictures hanging over the mantle and over the sofa were askew. A vase and the mantle clock also lay in pieces on the floor.
The flat was certainly in a bigger mess than she had left it last time, although she couldn’t tell if that was from the tremors or an intruder-an intruder who was, at this very second, crouched in front the shelves over in the semi-darkness of the right corner, looking at the photos and trinkets.
He had closely shorn hair, wore a black jacket and Docs.
Great, she thought, it’s just some bloke! Not an alien at all, but just some local skinhead. Her bravado deflated slightly. After all the hype, she certainly wasn’t eager to bust some Estate ASBO who’d done a simple B&E…
Irritated beyond words that this was just another random human crime that threatened the sanctity of the flat, and not “The Chaos” that she kept hearing about, she took another look, sizing him up for the fight she was itching to give him.
However, while his back was still facing her, she clocked him for curiously older than the traditional ASBO age; his body language also suggested someone who was comfortable in his environment.
Turn around, turn around, turn around… was her silent yet frustrated internal mantra. She clutched her sonic, pointing it at the figure that remained with his back to her.
As if he could hear her thoughts, the figure in the room straightened up. A shine off the black of his jacket in the dark from the streetlights outside the lounge windows indicated it was leather.
However, as the intruder turned his head slightly to look at one of the photos, she caught a hint of high cheekbones, deeply set eyes and Romanesque nose.
The ears looked a little big for his head, too…
The Twelfth Doctor’s eyes grew wide as an ice floe of dread seeped into her hearts.
But it couldn’t be…
She gasped and snapped on the lights to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.
The man turned around. Looking indignant, his Northern accent and sharp blue eyes cut through the silence in the room: “Oi! Just what do you think you’re doin’? Haven’t you ever ‘eard of knocking?”
The Twelfth Doctor stood face to face with her Ninth self in the centre of the Tyler’s lounge.
And he didn’t know her.
She gaped at the Ninth Doctor, completely unable to hide her shock.
Having heard that chaos was coming, she’d expected just about anything to be lying in wait for her, but certainly not this. Her brain churned on overload to determine precisely where and when this Doctor had come from.
Was this another forgotten day, like the last?
At this point, she had no ideas-but once again she was face-to-face with yet another version of the nosiest bugger in the universe…
“Are you deaf or something?” he barked. “I said, who the hell are you and what are you doin’ here?”
“Uh…” She stammered, playing for time in this extraordinary circumstance with shattered nerves. At least she had thought to quickly pocket her sonic. “I oughta ask you that, Mister,” she began indignantly. “Who the hell are you to just barge in here? Are Rose and Jacks even home? I found the door wide open, flat all dark-who’s to say you aren’t in here nicking things?”
“Like I’d want any of this old junk,” he muttered, turning his nose up at the jumble sale contents of the flat. “Still, fast thinker, you. I like that. What’s your name?”
Grasping at straws, she grabbed the first name on hand: “I’m Rose’s mate, Shareen. Who the bloody hell are you?”
“Oi! Language!”
“What of it?” she challenged.
He guffawed in spite of himself. “Spunky. I like that, too. No wonder Rose likes you. So! The infamous Shareen at last! Heard a lot about you, I ‘ave.”
“Well, that’s nice, considering I’ve not heard one lick about you, Mister Tippin’ Over the Tylers!” Twelve was getting into her role of Rose’s street-smart grade school friend from the Estates. Technically, they had never met-not in any incarnation-but the Doctor figured she’d heard enough stories from Rose to be able to concoct a believable identity on the fly.
“Sure you ‘ave,” he replied confidently, smiling, “I’m Rose’s friend, the Doctor!”
The Twelfth Doctor couldn’t be sure, but she thought she detected a little chest puffing at the end of that sentence…
“Oh,” she smirked, completely unable to resist, “so you’re the old geezer who stole Rose away for a whole year! I heard about that.”
“Didja now?” He’d grimaced at the word, geezer. She snickered internally and marveled at the borderline compulsion to take the mickey out of her former self… Must be an innate Timelord behaviour, like regenerating, or understanding the threads of time, she thought…
“What are you doing here without Rose then?” she challenged. “If you are who you say you are, shouldn’t you be off with her on one of your traveling adventures?”
“Know about them, do you?”
“Only that you’re the designated driver…”
“Yeah,” he nodded; and Twelve thought that she saw a sadness fall like a shadow over his breezy expression.
“What’s the matter with you?” she asked, “Y’look like somebody stole your lunch money or sommat.”
“Where’s Rose?” he asked.
There was something simple and sad about his tone… Was it helplessness? He turned and faced the Twelfth Doctor/Shareen with an open expression of fear and doubt.
Her eyebrow went up. “Why? Wasn’t she with you?”
His worry deepened, “No. I don’t think so… I don’t…” he tapped his temple with an impatient finger. “I don’t remember. And there’s something else-“
Suddenly, there was movement as the Tenth Doctor came bounding in, presumably to help save the day.
He stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing his former self.
“It’s you,” breathed the Ninth Doctor.
“You know him?” gasped Twelve.
“No, but he’s in that.” Nine pointed to a photo on the floor-one that the Twelfth Doctor had thrown to the ground the last time she’d been there-a photo taken on Christmas day, 2005. Her Tenth self wore a red paper hat. So did Rose, but hers was pink. The two of them were huddled around the table, grinning like loons. Jackie had taken the photo before she’d brought out the pudding.
It’d been a very happy night… the happiest.
Still pointing to it, the Ninth Doctor turned back to the Tenth Doctor. “Who are you?”
“Me?” He asked innocently. “Oh, well I’m…er…ah…I’m…” he pulled at his earlobe and glanced over at the Twelfth Doctor whose expression urged him to play along. “I’m Trevor!” he announced. “Friend of Rose’s. Nice to meet you…um…” he prompted, waiting for Nine to introduce himself, with his hand held out for a handshake that did not follow.
“This is Rose’s fancy Doctor friend,” supplied Twelve.
“Oh, is it now?” he asked, conversationally, still clearly attempting to make sense of this new turn of events himself.
“Where’s our other buddy?” asked Twelve to Ten about Jack.
“Uhhh… It’s all sorted. He’s just finishing up outside,” he replied, still grappling with this new twist on reality.
Ignoring them, the Ninth Doctor started at the photo on the floor with a puzzled look on his face. “I don’t remember seeing this photo before,” he said. “When was it taken?”
“Ohhh,” said Ten, breezily, “there’s probably a date on the back…” The Tenth Doctor turned his head for a glance at the Twelfth. His brown eyes registered the identical measure of alarm and distress. While she hadn’t retained any of her telepathy in this regeneration, she knew what he was thinking, nonetheless. She could practically hear his thoughts: What is HE doing here??
For it was precisely what she was thinking…
The Ninth Doctor stood very still, staring at the photo on the floor, his hands hanging by his sides. “I can’t,” he said, softly, his lips turning into a sad snarl.
Something didn’t seem quite right.
“Aww, sure you can, big fella. I bet Rose’d appreciate it, you picking it up for her.”
“I can’t,” the Ninth Doctor repeated. He held his hands out in front of him, looking at them as if he didn’t know whose they were. He glanced up at them, his blue eyes wibbly at the edges, as if Fear itself had drawn worry on his face with Sharpie. “Aren’t you cold?” he asked, feebly. “It’s cold in here, isn’t it?”
If she didn’t know better, his tone almost sounded like something bordering on whining…
Ten and Twelve shared another concerned glance.
“Hey there, are you okay?” asked Twelve, her voice registering an octave higher as if speaking to a hurt animal or a child.
Again the Ninth Doctor regarded her, the worry etched upon his face, “I can’t remember where Rose went! Did I leave her somewhere? Why can’t I remember?”
Twelve looked down at her shoes, “I don’t know.”
“And why can’t I touch anything?”
The other Doctors’ heads snapped up. “What?”
“You two siblings?” asked Nine.
The be-suited, brown-eyed pair looked at each other again. “Something like that-“
“What did you say about touching things?”
Nine held out his hand as if in demonstration. “Nice to meet you, Trevor,” he said apologetically, resuming the handshake he’d ignored previously.
Regarding him warily, Ten’s hand stretched out to meet his…
…and passed right through Nine’s hand.
The Tyler’s lounge hummed with the buzzing of the Twelfth Doctor’s sonic as their two voices entered an equally agitated level. Their panic spilled over one another’s hasty exclamations like an overfilled glass of Guinness:
“He doesn’t register--” she exclaimed.
“-Is he on our temporal plane, or--?”
“-Yes! I mean, he’s not outside of time, if that’s what you’re implying--”
“-Then why isn’t he solid--?”
“You two aren’t Rose’s mates, are you?” asked the Ninth Doctor. “And what is that thing you’ve got in your hand?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” asked Ten, ignoring his question about the sonic.
Nine eyed him, warily. “And why should I tell you?”
Ten exhaled in exasperation and flapped his arms by his side in frustration. “Ohhh! You were always so difficult! I don’t know why she ever saw anything in you!”
“Oi! Just what the hell are you on about, Jim Dandy?”
“Stop it, will you both?!” yelled Twelve.
Suddenly the flat jolted and swayed: Another earthquake! They heard more shouts and commotion from the square and neighbouring flats. Instinctively, all three Doctors threw their hands out to help steady each other-but Nine’s went straight through…
Twelve’s green sonic sprang to life once again. She followed the planes of the walls down towards her feet and back out again.
“You’re never gonna believe this,” she said out of the corner of her mouth to Ten.
“Try me,” he said.
“The epicenter?”
Ten nodded, evenly. “It’s underneath us, isn’t it?”
She looked back to Nine. “Please, this is important! What’s the last thing you remember?”
The Ninth Doctor looked between the two brown-eyed strangers-one who was obviously holding some sort of sonic screwdriver, and another who was in a picture with Rose, looking oh, so happy…
He squinted his eyes against the jumbled thoughts in his head.
Twelve kept going. “Do you remember the Daleks?”
He looked up at her, a haunted, scorched look in his eyes. Daleks! Yes-he could remember them. His flesh could be burned from his body and he would still remember them…
But he said nothing.
“Barcelona!” said the tall, thin man in the ridiculously tight pinstriped suit. “Do you remember Barcelona? Dogs with no noses, yes? How do they smell? Terrible, right?”
The Ninth Doctor simply stared at him, narrowing his eyes. Didn’t either of these people feel how cold it was in here? And why were Rose’s friends talking about things they shouldn’t know about?
“You sang a song, and the Daleks ran away. That’s what you told Rose. Remember?”
He heard the screaming and the explosions in his head-all contrasting perfectly with the silent dissolution-his enemies evaporating into atoms of two parts Hatred and one part Intolerance. Beside him, Rose had been glowing brilliantly, tears streaming out of her gold-flecked eyes.
I want you safe, my Doctor…
She needed a Doctor…
A new voice cut through the fog in his head: “How ‘bout me, Doc? Do ya remember me?”
He opened his eyes and gaped in disbelief at the familiar man in the blue coat standing in the Tyler’s hallway.
His mouth formed one word:
“Jack…”
“Howdy, Doc,” said Jack, with sadness dimming his bright blue eyes. “Long time no see.” He shook his head. “Wow. Never thought I’d see that face again,” he exclaimed.
“Nor me,” said Ten.
“All right, that’s enough!” barked Nine. “Would you mind tellin’ me what’s goin’ on ‘ere?” He pointed to Jack, “What you’re doin’ ‘ere, and just who the hell are these two?” he said, pointing to the other Doctors, “and where the blazes is Rose?!”
“She’s fine,” answered Ten, eliciting a cold stare from his former self. “She’s safe,” he continued. “And she’s happy-at least I hope she is-she’s with her mum and other people that… love her,” he said, his voice thickening. “But she’s someplace very far away. It was the best I could do… I only ever tried to give her the best… You’d have done the same…”
The Ninth Doctor eyed the Christmas photo on the floor once again. The man in pinstripes before him, his arm around Rose, grinning like a loon. “What year is it?” he asked, evenly.
The brown-eyed Doctors glanced at each other. “Two-thousand thirteen,” answered Ten.
The Ninth Doctor’s eyes grew wide. “The Delta Wave…”
“You never used it,” said Twelve.
“Rose came…” said Nine.
“You took the Time Vortex out of her,” reminded Ten.
“I regenerated!”
Ten nodded.
“You!” gasped Nine, looking at Ten.
Ten nodded again. Twelve kept quiet, not wanting to complicate things.
“I’m not meant to be ‘ere,” stated Nine, simply. “Those earthquakes,” said Nine. “S’me innit? Me being ‘ere created a disruption in time.”
“’Fraid so, old buddy,” said Jack, sadly.
But there was another voice in the hall. It was firm and male. “Step aside, Jack.”
All three Doctors reacted to the voice, but it was the Ninth Doctor who spoke first. “Is that… Mickey??”
Jack stepped aside to reveal Mickey, in full-on Torchwood operative gear, holding a large tube with a trigger, connected to a silver backpack-looking thing. His brown eyes grew big, seeing the old Doctor, and he looked more than a little conflicted. “Hiya,” said Mickey.
Now the Twelfth Doctor spoke up. “Mickey, what the hell is that?!”
“Pretty flash, huh?” said Mickey, hefting the object in his hands. “I was just jokin’ about the tranq gun and net earlier…”
“Oh, it’s a Trap Box!” exclaimed Ten, eying the device. “Brilliant! I knew something like that could work!”
“It’s alien, of course,” Jack added. “Mickey called me while he was still watching the surveillance cameras here over the vidlink,” he explained. “He could see you two talking to someone but couldn’t hear them, just like with Ianto, earlier. He also figured out the disturbances were coming from here, too.”
“We tracked the epicenters of those earthquakes, too. We found the same results you did: It came from just underneath the flat. I called Jack to pop back to get me.”
Jack petted the Vortex Manipulator on his wrist, “You didn’t even hear me leave.”
The Twelfth Doctor’s (nearly shrill) voice interrupted the spontaneous outbreak of Macho Gear Envy: “Excuse me, but what in the Sam Hill is going on?”
Mickey nodded towards the Ninth Doctor. “He’s the reason behind all of this. He’s the Chaos we’ve been promised…”
“We don’t know that for sure-“
“Sure we do!” said Mickey. “They said the Chaos was here, so I put two-n-two together. Three Doctors sounds pretty chaotic to me!”
“Three Doctors!” gasped the Ninth Doctor, staring at Twelve, understanding.
“But Mickey, we can’t just-“
“Yes! Yes, you can,” said the Ninth Doctor quickly, turning to Twelve with an earnest look in his eyes. “And you know you must. If there are earthquakes now, what’s next? Reapers? Vortisaurs? Worse? I’m not meant to be ‘ere… Apparently, I’ve had my time…” he said, his eyes moving pointedly from Ten to Twelve, taking in the magnitude of having regenerated twice already. “And if Rose isn’t ‘ere any more…” he sniffed in an offhand way that was meant to cover the emotion inherent in what he was saying, “Then I don’t want to stick around, either.” He turned to Mickey and gave him a simple nod. “Do it,” he said, staring at the metal tube he held. “Mickey the idiot, grown up at last…” He smiled proudly at him-giving him one of those giant, daft grins that broke his face from ear to ear.
There was another aftershock that rippled from below them, and the Ninth Doctor’s grin faltered.
Once the ground settled again he snapped off a nod of reassurance to Mickey.
Torn between his feelings of empathy for the Doctor and knowing what was right, Mickey swallowed and nodded solemnly back at the Ninth Doctor, “Sorry, yeah?” he grimaced.
He pulled the trigger.
“MICKEY! WHAT ARE YOU-“ Twelve’s question was obliterated by the loud crackle of electrical noise-like a hundred old televisions stuck on a staticy UHF channel-and the sudden appearance of a greenish ray of light that burst from the cylindrical, vacuum hose-type object Mickey held. In the blink of an eye, the light enveloped the Ninth Doctor, whereupon Mickey pressed another button and suddenly the green light-and the Ninth Doctor-completely disappeared.
The remaining two Doctors gaped at Mickey.
Twelve turned to Mickey. “Where is he??”
Mickey reached back and tapped the silver rectangle on his back. “Safe and sound in the Trap Box.”
Her voice flowed like ice over molten lava, “So you just blew him away??”
“No. He’s stored in here, like that bio-data you talked about earlier. But what would you rather? Invite him down the pub for a chat while the whole of South London falls into the Thames? You heard ‘em yourself. He knew he was a threat! I’m sorry to say so, Boss, but I think you’re getting a little sentimental about-“
There was yet another rumble from below.
Ten spoke up, “We need to get Nine off this planet or out of this temporal plane if we’re to stop these earthquakes and close these rifts.”
She shook her head. “Oh no. It’s far worse than that… This isn’t the end of this.”
To be continued in Chapter 7: Borrowed Time…