The Destroyer 4/4
Fic: The Destroyer
Author: wmr
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Martha Jones, Jack Harkness
Rated: PG13 for language and lots of angst; not a happy fic.
Spoilers: S3 up to Family of Blood; AU from there.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not in a million years
Summary: I break everyone who gets close to me. Sequel to Guilty Secret.
With very many thanks, as always, to
dark_aegis, who BRed despite telling me that this hurt. ;) And for everyone who asked for more after reading Guilty Secret. And phew! Finished before Utopia!
Chapter 1: Human Nature l Chapter 2: Lies and Truth l Chapter 3: War
Epilogue: No Regrets
He waits, leaning against the side wall of the village hall, neatly hidden from view. She lives just across the road now, apparently, married to the local doctor, so his informant told him.
“They got married in 1916,” Tim, home from the war at last and articled to a solicitor in the nearest town, said. “Haven’t seen much of them since I’ve been back, but I hear she’s always out around the village. Mothers’ Union, helping at the cottage hospital, walking with the children.”
And Tim’s right. He’s been here only ten minutes, but the door of the cottage across the road is opening, and there she is.
She’s dragging a heavy old - well, not old for 1920, of course - pram as she backs out, and another child holds her hand. A boy, about three, he estimates, in short trousers and a tweed jacket, a cap perched jauntily on his head, and for a moment he’s taken back to the future John Smith saw.
He could have had a son who looked like this. In the timeline of what could have been, he did have a son who looked something like this.
He watches as Joan emerges onto the pavement opposite, now pushing the pram and leading the little boy. Light brown hair, he notices now, wispy strands poking out from under the cap. The boy’s eyes would probably have been brown if he’d been his and Joan’s son. In this reality, they could be blue, or any other colour, really.
It’s a life he couldn’t have, even if part of him has occasionally wondered what it would be like to try it. John Smith would have been happy with it; would have lived out this human life wanting nothing more than a linear timeline, a life lived out in one place and a peaceful death of - human - old age, surrounded by his family.
John Smith doesn’t exist, not any more. The man he really is could never live this life.
As he watches, a bright smile curves over Joan’s face and a man is hurrying towards her. He’s tall, a little stooping, probably about fifteen years older than her, with thinning hair and a wispy beard. On reaching the little group, the newcomer bends to scoop the boy up into his arms, swinging him around, and then leans in to kiss Joan gently on the cheek. Even that’s unusual in an era where public displays of affection aren’t normal or acceptable, and it says a lot about Joan’s marriage to this man.
She’s happy. She’s safe and cared for and... yes, not at all broken.
His hearts lighter, he turns and retraces his steps to the TARDIS.
***
Royal Holloway Hospital, 2012. Hacking into General Medical Council records told him she works here now, a fully-qualified doctor, now a junior registrar in cardiology. Fitting; the first time they met, of course, she figured out that he had two hearts and later saved his life with CPR.
It’s easy enough to sneak into the cardiology department; the sonic screwdriver, a stolen white coat and a purposeful walk means that nobody stops him and no security-locked doors bar his path. She’s on duty today; he checked before he came. Brilliant, the twenty-first century, with its computerised and databased everything. Schedules, rotas, addresses, phone numbers, anything you could conceivably want to find. Child’s play to look up.
Swing doors swoosh open, and there she is, long white coat brushing her calves, her hair tied neatly back, a stethoscope hanging around her neck. She’s all businesslike, the efficient doctor on duty, though sparing a smile for a tall, somewhat attractive if he absolutely has to be honest, man in a nurse’s uniform who’s approaching along the hallway.
They pause and talk for all of about thirty seconds, but it’s enough to show that they’re far more than two people who work together and like each other. So his Martha’s got herself a boyfriend, it seems. Or maybe more. After all, it’s been five years. She could even be married.
She looks happy. Successful, too. That’s all he needed to know, and it’s good.
He’s turning, about to leave, when suddenly his name’s called. “Doctor!”
Slowly, he turns. Yes, she’s seen him. Oops. But she’s actually looking pleased to see him, and he can’t help but smile back at her. “Dr Jones. Dr Martha Jones. You look... amazing.”
She hurries to him. “God, just typical of you, isn’t it? Turn up now, when I have a round in less than ten minutes. Why couldn’t you come and find me when I’m off-duty?”
He’s not going to tell her that he never actually intended to speak to her. Instead, he holds out his arms. She flings herself into them and he hugs her.
You should drop in on the exes sometimes. You might find we’re not as broken as you seem to think.
“I’ve missed you, Martha Jones,” he tells her, pulling back so he can look at her properly. And he has. It’s only been a few months from his perspective, but the TARDIS feels empty again.
“Missed you, too.” She stares at him, then shakes her head with an amused smile. “So, what you doing here? Make a habit of prowling around hospitals, do you?”
“Came to see you, of course. What else? And you’re brilliant, Dr Jones. Just brilliant.” He can’t stop smiling at her. “Just look at you. All qualified and everything. A doctor. Saving lives every day.”
She blushes, glancing down at her feet. “I don’t always save them.”
He nods. “I know. But you try. And that’s what matters, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” She’s smiling at him again now. “It’s so good to see you, Doctor.”
“You too. And now that I’m here, there’s something I really need to say to you.” Before she can question him, he continues. “I’m sorry. Long overdue, that. Should have said it a long time ago.”
“What, like randomly sorry, or for something specific?”
“Oh, lots of things. You were right, you know. What you said to me before you left.”
She shrugs, looking faintly embarrassed. “I said a lot of things. Not all of them were fair, and they certainly weren’t all your fault.”
“Still,” he insists, hands in his pockets now, watching her. She nods, acknowledging that he’s right.
“There was one thing I didn’t say.” She’s serious now, gaze holding his. “Thank you. For everything. It was - oh, an amazing experience. I’ll never forget it. I loved it.”
Except for the bits she didn’t, of course, but he smiles. “It was my pleasure. And thank you too, Martha Jones. For being a friend when I needed one - even when I didn’t deserve it.”
Her smile is wide, her eyes faintly moist. Before things can get too emotional, he turns businesslike. “And you have a round to get to. Go.”
She nods, then quickly steps forward, kissing his cheek. “Bye, Doctor. Thanks for dropping in.”
He smiles again, then turns to walk away - but, as he does, she’s speaking again. “Will you come to my wedding?”
“Wedding? Oh, that’s brilliant!” And it is - she’s looking prouder than he’s ever seen her. The nurse, he assumes. “Course I will - oh, but not if your mum’s gonna slap me again!”
“I’ll tell her if she so much as thinks about it she’ll never see her grandkids.”
Of course she’s not serious, but he smiles anyway. She shouts a date at him and then rushes off, every inch the busy doctor.
He watches her until she’s out of sight, then turns to head back to the TARDIS, smiling the whole way.
***
Of course, he can’t check on Rose - but, as he once told the Beast, he believes in her. He told her, a long time ago, to have a fantastic life in memory of him. She will. He trusts her to.
Some other time, he’ll work up the nerve to find Tegan, Ace, Jo, Fitz, maybe even Sarah again. Check up on them, find out what they’re doing, try to see them as he did Joan - and maybe, maybe speak to them. Find out for himself if they really are having good lives.
For now, though, back to Cardiff. Time to prove to Jack that he’s not afraid to come and visit.
He exits the TARDIS to the sound of screaming and running. He’s still looking for the cause when a hand claps him firmly on the back. “Good to see you, Doc, but can’t stay and chat - we’ve got a bit of a situation.”
Jack’s jogging on past him, drawn gun in hand, and he runs to catch up. “A situation?”
Jack turns to face him, and the grin he gets is one he knows very well, the it’s dangerous, but isn’t it exciting? grin. “Aliens.”
“And you don’t think I might be able to help?”
“Probably. No idea what they are. Large and scaly and they’ve got this venom they can spit at least twenty feet. One of my team’s already down.”
“Dead? Unconscious? Just staggering about a bit?” He runs alongside Jack.
“Unconscious, fighting for her life.” Jack’s expression is grim now. “The team doctor’s with her, but that just leaves three of us against at least a dozen of them.” He halts suddenly. “There’s one!”
The Doctor looks. “Divucaria. Poisonous, can be deadly, though there’s an antidote that works if you can get it in time.”
“You know it?” There’s sudden hope on Jack’s face. Then he shakes his head. “No. The priority’s gotta be stopping them so no-one else dies. If Tosh is still alive later... well, it’s a chance I’ll have to take.”
“The venom’s not naturally produced. It’s stored in their ship - which, incidentally, is invisible to anyone but them. Find that and they’ll run out. They’re helpless then.”
“Okay.” Jack turns in a circuit, searching, though all the time his gaze keeps returning to the Divucaria up on top of the nearby building, watching them. “How do we find the ship?”
“Leave that to me. You stop them attacking anyone else.”
Jack nods and starts to walk away, but he calls him back. “Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful. Just cause you can die now doesn’t mean you have to.”
He gets a slow nod that he knows is a promise.
***
“Watch out!”
He’s found the spaceship - handy little displacement detector on the sonic screwdriver - and is just about to destroy it when the urgent voice from behind him makes him turn.
Right. He jumps to the side just in time to avoid a stream of venom, and then he’s pushed hard to the ground as another gob heads his way.
There’s a gunshot, and the Divucaria that was stalking him falls, dead, to the ground.
“Thanks.” Picking himself up, he smiles gratefully at the young, dark-skinned woman, who for some reason looks vaguely familiar.
She’s putting her weapon away and seems about to say something, but she’d distracted by a yell from further away.
“Swanson! You’re needed!”
With a brief nod, she’s running, and he turns his attention back to the spaceship. Within a few seconds, it’s nothing but atoms, the venom vaporised.
A few minutes later, he’s found Jack again and updated him. “They’ll be running out of venom pretty soon.”
“Good.” Jack looks relieved. “The local CID’s here - they’ve all had weapons training and I’ve instructed them to shoot on sight but don’t get anywhere near the venom. Come and see if you can help Tosh?”
“Course.” He slings an arm briefly around Jack’s shoulders - it’s obvious his friend’s really worried about his team member.
In the Hub, though he’s fascinated by everything around, he follows Jack’s brisk stride into the medical area. The young woman he finds he recognises from the Albion Hospital is indeed fighting for her life, but it’s not too late for the antidote to make a difference.
A few instructions to the medic - a man even ruder than he is - and a bit of jiggery-pokery with the screwdriver later and it’s ready. Ten minutes after that, Toshiko Sato is sitting up, a little woozy still, but well on the way to recovery.
Jack sends the rest of his team to deal with the remaining Divucaria, then gives him a tour of the Hub, and he’s amused by all the alien paraphernalia and junk the team’s managed to accumulate. A little less amused by the Weevils in the cells, and thoroughly appalled by his hand in a jar - but this is Jack’s domain and he decides, completely against habit and inclination, not to interfere. Jack doesn’t comment, but the raised eyebrow and faint smile he gets tells him that his unaccustomed discretion’s not gone unnoticed.
And then it’s time to leave. He instructs Jack to be careful and in turn is made to promise to come back. There’s a hug, and he parts from his one-time companion with the absolute conviction that the past is laid to rest.
“See ya, you old bastard,” Jack calls after him, laughing, as he strides back out into the Cardiff sunlight.
“Not if I see you first,” he quips, waving cheerfully.
Back out in the Plass, close to where the TARDIS stands in full daylight yet completely ignored by passers-by, he notices the woman who saved him from the venom earlier - Swanson, he vaguely remembers someone calling her. A smile of recognition appears on her face as he approaches.
“Hope I didn’t damage anything when I shoved you earlier,” she comments.
“Nah. I don’t break easily. Well, not that easily. Now, if this was Dragassian concrete instead of plain old Earth’s, that’d be a different story but - oh, you don’t want to know all that.” He smiles warmly. “Thank you.”
“All in a day’s work,” she replies, beginning to walk on. “Take care, now.”
About to wish her a cheerful goodbye over his shoulder as he continues to walk towards the TARDIS, he slows suddenly, pivots and then takes a deep breath. Worth a try.
“I’m the Doctor,” he says. “What’s your name?”
END