Fic: You've Got to Hide Your Love Away (12/17)
Frustration apparent in his every movement, the Doctor tries once more to break the stubborn glass-not-glass on his cell door. He's been working at it for the last five minutes and he could've sworn he felt it shift, just the slightest bit--when he rammed his now throbbing elbow into it--but still it doesn't break. He's not about to give up though, not when the ship is empty of all lifeforms but himself, and his freedom is just a quarter of an inch of material away. Despite the ache in his elbow and the tiredness of his limbs, he continues to bang on it with as much force as his nutrient-weakened body can muster.
“Wouldn't bother with that if I were you,” a muffled voice calls out, startling him.
Jerking his head up in shock and surprise he finds, not a Wraith as he fears, but a man; tall, muscular, with a head-full of dreadlocks, and a condescending smile gracing his lips.
“If I can't break it, then neither can you.”
Opening his mouth to inquire who the man is and what, exactly, he's doing on a Wraith ship, the Doctor notices three other individuals standing on the other side of the door, watching him. One of them is an averaged sized man, who keeps looking around him as if he expects a Wraith to jump out at any moment. The other is a bit taller, with dark hair, and a gun at the ready. And the last member of the team is a woman; small, but powerful looking, with an easy smile and haunted eyes.
“Who're all of you then?” he asks, keeping his voice calm, neutral. The sight of these four, very human looking individuals, makes his heart hum with hope. But he doesn't want to assume anything, he's too far from...
“Your ride home,” the confident one responds with a wave of his hand. “Name's Sheppard and, if McKay,” he turns to the nervous one, “would hurry up--”
“Working on it!”
“--and finish getting that door open--”
“Going as fast as I can,” McKay snaps, typing furiously on a laptop he has wired into the Wraith ship. “I think we've gone over this before, Sheppard. It isn't like playing one of your shoot 'em up video games.”
Sheppard raises an eyebrow at him.
“It's very complicated and requires my full attention--”
“So stop talking then,” the one with the dreads smirks at him, crossing the room over to one of the multiple hallways branching off of this one.
The friendly bickering back and forth, the playful teasing amongst obvious friends, makes the Doctor's twinge in an entirely different way. But he doesn't have time for that right now, doesn't need to be dwelling on things lost when he's only just barely been found.
Bouncing on the balls of his feet impatiently, he doesn't miss the countless weapons the one with dreads is carrying on his person. Nor does he miss the ease with which he's holding the gun he that is currently hanging loosely at his side. He doesn't know who these people are or why they're so willing to risk their lives to save him but he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He just wishes they'd hurry up and...
“Are those my things?” he blurts out, eyes alighting on the small bundle the auburn-haired woman is holding.
She smiles and nods in his direction, remaining suspiciously silent. He feels a surge of excitement. “Left, front pocket. Sonic screwdriver.” He waits while she digs it out. “Now, slip it through here,” he says, indicating the small opening his trays had been sent through at meal time.
“What's a sonic screwdriver?” McKay wrinkled his nose, skeptical of the seemingly useless tool.
With a wag of his eyebrows, the Doctor grabs it the instant it comes through the slot. “You'll see,” he smiles, quickly adjusting the settings and aiming it at the lock.
There are a few gasps when the door swings open almost immediately. Stepping out of the small room that has served as his home for the last three weeks, he flips the sonic screwdriver into the air, watches it twist once, twice, then catches it and puts it in his back pocket.
“But...” McKay stares at him in shock. “That's..that's not possible!”
~~~
They made it through the Wraith ship without incident. The place was deserted, but the Doctor had known that already, known it the instant he reached out his mind to link with another. Down one empty corridor after another they went, until finally the came to a hangar bay, where a Puddle Jumper--a smaller space traveling vessel the SGA team used--was waiting.
“So let me make sure I heard you correctly,” the Doctor says, sitting back in his seat. He's safe now, some distance from the Hive ship he was just minutes ago imprisoned on. “You're a group of humans,” he glances at Teyla (the woman who returned his sonic screwdriver) and Ronon (the man with the dreads), “well, mostly human.” He rubs the back of his neck. “So, you're a group of mostly human-humans who travel through a large circular device...a Stargate. And the Stargate allows you to cross great distances instantaneously and is how you came to the Pegasus galaxy...where you live in the mythical city of Atlantis?”
“Not mythical,” McKay pipes up, mouth full of apple, bits of which he sprays out across the room in the process. In the short amount of time the Doctor has spent with these people he's already got this one pegged; he's one of those sorts who thinks he knows everything...and he's bright enough he probably does. Or at least everything a human could know, would be capable of knowing. So, in that case, not even close to knowing everything, after all. “The myth was based on the place, not the other way around.”
“Right,” the Doctor nods curtly, already becoming a bit tired with the little man and his cockiness. “So you live in the lost city of Atlantis, fight the Wraith, and save the universe. And, there's another group of you back on Earth, situated somewhere in America--Colorado was it?--that do the same thing, only they fight a race of snake creatures called the Goa'uld. Right?”
“That's it in a nutshell,” Sheppard replies, eyes trained on the console readouts in front of him. “But what about you, Doc? Who exactly are you?”
“Yeah, and, what makes you so special the Wraith want to clone you?”
“Clone me?” The Doctor turns to McKay, eyes widening in surprise.
“It's how we found out about you.” Sheppard swivels his chair around to face them. “We picked up some chatter that the Wraith had acquired themselves a new pet. Said they were taking him back to their breeding planet, where they wanted to clone him. Said he wasn't human...”
“I'm not,” the Doctor replies offhandedly, barely listening to the conversation anymore. So that was Stan's plan. Forget life draining and memory stealing; he wanted to make himself his own little race of Time Lord clones. No doubt not only as a means to feed the Wraith forever, but for other, less desirable, reasons as well.
“So what are you then?” McKay asks, but the Doctor never gets a chance to respond.
There's a loud beeping noise and Sheppard turns back to the console quickly, scanning the newest readouts. “McKay, is Orion ready? Cause everyone's home now.”
Glancing down at his laptop display, McKay nods. “Charged up and ready to go.”
“Good, then let's have a little practice run.”
Ronon, who's remained quiet this whole time, pushes himself away from the door frame he was leaning against and slaps the Doctor on his shoulder. “Watch this,” he says with a wolfish grin.
Turning to look out the window, the Doctor watches the sky, wondering what exactly Orion is. He doesn't have to wait long though before there's a bright explosion and all his unspoken questions are answered. The Wraith ship, which just seconds before was floating in mid-space, becomes nothing more then debris flying out in every direction. There's nothing left, no chance of any survivors. The ship is utterly and completely destroyed in a matter of seconds.
He rips his eyes away from the scene, swallowing hard, and trying to ignore the whoops and hollers from the four individuals who now hold his life in their hands. There's no difference between these people and so many others he's ran into in his travels--like Torchwood--which shouldn't really come as a surprise to him...
Rising abruptly from his seat, the Doctor quickly makes his way to the back of the ship, as far away from the display of violence he just witnessed as he can get.
~~~
The Doctor is sitting in the back of the Puddle Jumper, lost in thought about everything he's seen, when she comes to him a short while later. The rest of the team is occupied with getting them to the rendezvous point--on a large ship called the Daedalus--where they'll send him on his way back to Earth. Her eyes are troubled and he sees that this woman, more than any other he has known, is empathetic to the point of pain. He knows also, sensed in her from the first moment he saw her, that she is telepathic.
“Let me help you?” Teyla asks him, standing close enough that the others cannot hear, yet far enough away so as not to intrude in his personal space.
The Doctor glances up at her, trying to temper the emotions he knows are flitting across his face. He's pretty sure of what this is all about, but being the stubborn Time Lord that he is, he can't make it easy on her, and instead of responding, gives her a blank look.
“You're in pain.” She takes a tentative step forward, reaches out a hand to him but stops just short of touching his shoulder, then lets her arm fall to her side.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I told you, on the Wraith ship, I'm alright. I--”
“You're always alright?”
His mouth snaps shut, staring into eyes that are so deep, so fathomless, it's like he's staring straight down into her very soul. Obviously, this woman is far better than he thought...or he is doing a really poor job of hiding his thoughts.
“It is very easy to know one is thinking and feeling if you just pay close enough attention to him.” She smiles gently when he turns, a startled look on his face. “No, I am not reading your thoughts, Doctor. You are just...your hurt is very intense.”
He shakes his head. “Told you. I'm fine. They wanted me alive, not dead or injured.”
She laughs, and it's light and musical, and makes his hearts clench, reminding him of someone else who once cared so much. “Must we play these games? You know, as well as I do, that I am not talking about pain of the body...but of the heart.”
She sits down beside him, so close he can hear her heart beating, and reaches out to take his hand in hers. He doesn't try to stop her, despite the fact that he barely knows her. Having been alone for so very long now, he's ashamed to admit he craves--no needs--not just companionship, but touch; pure, simple, physical contact.
The instant her skin glides over his own, he realizes his mistake.
The stress of the last few months--years--has taken it's toll on a mind already riddled with guilt and a body pushed to the limit far too many times. He's slipping in his old age, letting things get past him that he shouldn't and, if this keeps up, he may just have to consider parking the TARDIS somewhere and taking the slow path.
He manages to stop her though, before she sees too much. The flow of memories from him to her isn't nearly as quick as when the Wraith invaded his mind, but it's fast enough. She doesn't get close to the Time War and the destruction of his planet, his people, but that's not what she wants to know about anyway.
“She loves you,” the voice is gentle, calm, even in the face of everything she's just seen.
He doesn't need clarification--has no need for a name--he knows who she's referring to. Ripping his hand from hers angrily--how dare she pretend to know how Rose feels--he rises from his seat and begins to pace. “You don't understand,” his voice is gruff, and he swallows down the tears that are threatening to break through.
“I understand that, sometimes, it's the ones we love the most that we hurt the worst.”
He stops dead in his tracks, a shiver running down his spine. Her words, wisdom so easily given, is so very difficult to hear. Because he knows, deep down in his hearts, it's true--he's done it himself countless times--hurt those around him, those that he loves. He's left so many of them behind, denied even more of them the opportunity to get in. But he has his reasons, because none of them, has any clue as to just how dangerous a man he is.
“Have you never hurt her?” she asks gently.
“Of course I haven't...” He turns back to her, eyes wide in shock, but he can't finish. Because it's a lie and he knows it. He hurt Rose so many times, too many to count, but it was always for her own protection, always for her safety. “I had my reasons.” He sniffs.
“And you don't think she has her own? Or is it that they could not be nearly good enough? Not as good as a Time Lord's?” Her words are brutal, her face dark with an honesty that he doesn't want to see.
“You've lived such a sad, lonely life, Doctor. And, yet, for a time, you were so very happy. Nothing like the man I see before me now.” She frowns. “Why you would give up something that good, that right, without a fight is beyond me.”
Opening his mouth to speak and then quickly closing it again, he searches for a response. She's hit the mark far closer then she could even imagine, far closer then anyone else before, and he doesn't really want to hear this, doesn't want to accept relationship advice from someone who barely knows him. She can't possibly understand the complexities of who he is, can't comprehend what Rose means to him and what he's done--is willing to do--just to keep her safe.
She doesn't understand.
~~~
“So you think you can manage to fly this thing, Doc?” Ronon asks, smacking his open palm on the side of the Wraith Dart they managed to procure for his ride home.
The Doctor nods, wishing they would hurry up with the goodbyes already. The last few days with the SGA team--both on the Puddle Jumper and here, on the Daedalus--he's had the chance to get to know all of them better and they're a good group of people, they are. He's actually grown quite fond of some of them and others...well, he thinks, as McKay comes charging through the doors, piece of paper clutched in his hand, others have just barely begun to grown on him.
“I've got you the list of Stargate addresses,” McKay says, handing the paper to the Doctor. “There are twelve of them in all that you'll have to go through. Just remember to thread the needle carefully. Wouldn't want you to crash and take out one of our doors home.” He gives a nervous laugh.
“Thank you.” And he genuinely means it. They've taken care of him here, gone above and beyond what was necessary, all to get him back home...well, back to the place where he needs to be in order to get back home. Well, the TARDIS is there and she's home so, in a way, they are sending him home.
He doesn't even know why he's in such a hurry. It's not like there's anything for him back on Earth anymore. Returning will mean leaving again, dropping his companions back where they belong and then continuing on in his travels, alone. Jack has Torchwood, Martha her family (and, after the way he treated her before, he doubts she'd want to stay with him anyway), and Rose...well, he doesn't really want to think about Rose right now.
The rest of the team have entered the hangar bay by now, along with a few others from the Daedalus. There's a round of goodbyes, good lucks, and plenty of handshakes. Then, after a quick check to make sure his supplies are sufficient for the long trip, he begins to board the Dart but is stopped by Teyla.
“Doctor,” she says, taking his hands. There's no transfer of memories this time, he's remembered to set his blocks and reinforce them. “I...I just wanted to tell you...to think about what I said. And, think about what's right, what you really want. Not in here,” and she touches his forehead, “but here.” She places her hands over his hearts.
He tries swallowing but finds there's a lump in his throat that he just can't get past. Feeling more than a little uncomfortable, he gives her a quick nod and then steps through the doors and onto the ship that will take him back to Earth.
Chapter Thirteen...