Chapter Text
“You blundering, half-wit, idiot human,” the Doctor seethed, pulling himself off the floor from where Bracewell had knocked him down. The scientist stepped away, holding his hands in tight fists with an air of defiance, determined to remain unrepentant of his choice. The Daleks, of course, were long gone – back to their ship. “I don’t know why I bother saving you lot, when you continue to prove to me just how stupid you are. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“A tactical retreat,” Bracewell said, chin held high.
The Doctor ran his hands over his head, soothing the sore bump at the base of his skull, thinking hard. He’d discovered who these Daleks were and what they were after, but it still didn’t make sense. If they’d been able to teleport away all this time, what had been their purpose at the army base? Why bother with the costumes at all?
He glared at Bracewell, fighting an urge to strangle the man which hadn’t been this strong since his ninth body. But there was more than one way to hurt.
“Who did you lose?” he asked, voice hard. “Was it family? A child?”
Bracewell blinked, his cheeks pinking in confusion as he shook his head, “I don’t see how – ”
“Not family, then, but someone dear to you. A wife? A lover?”
Bracewell looked down to the floor. The Doctor straightened his shoulders.
“It hurts,” the Doctor touched his hand to the centre of his chest, “right here, all the time, doesn’t it? When they’re not there anymore. I’ve seen better men than you break harder. I’ve done worse things, myself. I can’t blame you for trying.”
He turned away from the scientist to scan for the signature he’d need in order to follow the Daleks to their ship, because he’d need to go to them, now.
“There is nothing you can do to fix it,” he continued. “No one who can bring them back. Don’t dishonour them by holding on to what was. Don’t endanger reality in their memory. It won’t be worth it.” He caught Bracewell’s eye, saw the fear there, the uncertainty. He softened. “The only thing to do is move through it.”
“How?” Bracewell’s voice was tiny – hesitant and broken, like the word had escaped without his permission.
“Let it hurt.”
The Doctor held his gaze for as long as it took to convey his honesty. Bracewell cleared his throat. “What are you going to do?”
With a quick straightening of his bow tie, the Doctor smiled thinly and made his way to the door, “Chase after them. And I’ve got to go now, or I won’t catch up, but I meant what I said. You don’t want to end up like that lot, Professor. Let yourself feel. Be human.”
Bracewell frowned, but didn’t say a thing as the Doctor left. He jogged to the TARDIS, thoughtful, and wasn’t surprised to find the ship ready and waiting for his input.
He was heading directly into the belly of the beast – straight into the ship of his very worst enemy. This task would need a cunning strategy and he had very little time.
–
The Doctor held a Jammy Dodger high in the air.
He’d followed the short-range teleport directly to the bridge of the Dalek ship. If he’d done this at the height of their power, it would be an act of suicide, but their ship was in shambles. According to his meager scans, they were at one-quarter power, weaponless, and only capable of emergency time-shifts. They were crippled – dying. He was frankly impressed that they were still in orbit.
“How about that cuppa now, then?”
There were a surprising four Daleks in the room, all clustered in a line along the central bridge controls. The two camouflaged as Ironsides turned their lasers toward him at his announcement.
“It is the Doctor!”
“Exterminate!”
“Wait, wait, wait! I wouldn’t, if I were you,” he waved the biscuit in the air. “TARDIS self-destruct, and you know what that means. My ship goes, you all go with it.”
They paused, measuring each other. Blinking lights along the console revealed the Daleks’ intention to shoot at the Earth below – but toward what, the Doctor couldn’t tell from here. His anger deepened, and for a moment he wished that his ruse was real.
“You would not use such a device,” one of the standard Daleks said.
“Try me.”
The same Dalek rolled forward to initiate a scan, but the Doctor took a threatening step toward it, pressing his thumb on the red centre of the biscuit in his hand for emphasis.
“Ah, ah, ah – no scans, no nothing. One move and I’ll destroy us all, you got that? TARDIS bang, Daleks boom! Good boy,” he growled as the Dalek slipped away from the controls. He stepped closer to reach the screens, and his hearts thudded when he confirmed their intent. They were about to blow up Churchill’s military base. “This ship’s pretty beaten up. Running on empty, I’d say, like you. If I had to guess, this was your last attempt to remove your greatest enemy from creation. Too bad I got to you first, eh?”
With an eye on the Daleks, the Doctor powered down the ship’s laser. Somewhere behind the background sound of engines, a loud hum faded away to nothing.
“There we go. Harmless. A harmless Dalek ship orbiting Earth in 1941. I guess the next question is: what am I going to do with you now?”
“Withdraw, Doctor. Let us go.”
The Doctor snorted, “Oh, that’s it? That’s your great victory? You leave?”
“Extinction is not an option. We shall return to our own time and begin again.”
“No, no, I don’t think so,” the Doctor said, darkly. “I won’t let you get away. Not this time. Not with her at risk.”
The Daleks stood there, all in a row like a set of fancy saltshakers, watching him with their mechanical tubes they called eyes. They were at his mercy, awaiting his next move, probably each plotting an emergency time-shift that would multiply his task to destroy them by four. He rubbed his thumb along the surface of the biscuit in his hand, battling the inexplicable conflict inside himself about their demise. If he was going to destroy them, it would have to be now.
“But before I leave you to your fate,” he said, making a show of strolling back toward the TARDIS with faked confidence. “I’m curious. Why Churchill?”
“Churchill is irrelevant.”
“We do not care for your petty attempts at war.”
The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Your laser was aiming at the bunker. I’m not that stupid, mate.”
“There is a soldier.”
Bracewell? the Doctor thought inanely.
“One who is prophesized to protect the Bad Wolf. His removal would ensure Bad Wolf’s extermination. We were aiming for him.”
The Doctor closed his eyes as he made the connection. He’d already known, of course, that Jack Harkness had saved Rose’s life tonight – or, would, now that he wasn’t going to be blasted away by the Daleks. They hadn’t been there to shoot down Rose at all. They’d been looking for Jack this whole time.
“Why bother with Bracewell, then?” he asked.
The Daleks didn’t answer. He looked between them with a rising trepidation. They might not have known which soldier to go after, but they weren’t stupid, either.
“What did you do?” his fear came through first before turning back into anger. “What did you plant?”
As if by some divine law of time, the ship’s console began to beep in warning. The Doctor was already too far away to tell what it was, but he knew what it meant anyway. Two of the Daleks interfaced with the ship and it began to shudder into motion.
“Withdraw now, Doctor,” one of the Ironside Daleks turned toward him. “Or the city dies in flames.”
“No, this ship is a wreck, you don’t have the power to destroy London.”
“Watch as the humans destroy themselves.”
The Dalek activated their ship’s main screen, revealing a flickering view of the Earth from their current position above London. All at once, all the lights of the city illuminated like a beacon. Any other year and it would be a meaningless threat – but during the Blitz, it meant death.
“Stop this. Stop this now,” he growled, prowling forward again, but was stopped by the sight of a laser to the chest when a Dalek rolled in front of him. He brandished his biscuit. “Don’t mess with me, sweetheart.”
“The Daleks are not responsible for the human’s actions. Bracewell has activated his retrieval device. You must withdraw now, Doctor, or watch them burn.”
“Or the third, secret option,” the Doctor said. “I could blow you up.”
“And yourself.”
“Occupational hazard.”
The Dalek stared, hesitant. Then from the console, another Dalek announced: “Scans reveal nothing. TARDIS self-destruct device is non-existent.”
Hesitating a beat, the Doctor stuffed the treat into his mouth. “All right, it was a Jammy Dodger. But I was promised tea!”
And with that he fled, just barely escaping a Dalek laser as he slammed the TARDIS doors closed.
--
He was agonizing over his decision the whole flight back down to the bunker, berating himself for not taking action like his better selves had done twice now. He pulled his hair into a mess and tossed his jacket to the floor, too hot – filled with adrenaline. His hands had been on their ship’s console. He could have activated any sort of fail-safe, could have caused a hyperloop in their engines, could have, could have, could have but didn’t. He was still too much of a coward.
The TARDIS landed in Bracewell’s lab. He bumped right into Churchill on exit, who was raving with full Prime Minister rage at the scientist who was scrambling at the buttons of what looked like a supercomputer. The room was otherwise in chaos – papers and broken machinery littered the floor and a handful of soldiers were barking orders at each other over Churchill’s angry shouts.
“Where are they, Doctor? Where are my Ironsides?” Churchill turned his voice toward him, eyeing him with suspicion below angry brows. A cigar stuck out of the corner of his mouth, but it had thankfully stopped smoking.
“They were never your Ironsides,” the Doctor said, matter-of-fact. He stared the man down until Churchill reluctantly looked away.
“Doctor!” Bracewell called out. He gestured for the Doctor to join him at the open machine – a mess of exposed wires with a circuit board too advanced for this era. The Doctor pulled out his sonic. Yep – much too advanced. It was hooked up to the power grid, setting it into overdrive.
“Your retrieval device, I’m guessing,” he said flippantly, shoving his hand deep inside the machine to grab a handful of wires. “Designed by the Ironsides?”
Still too frantic to be sheepish, Bracewell nodded, “Yes. Yes, this was supposed to call them back. We’ve word of a raid. I’ve promised protection.”
“The Germans can see every inch of the city,” Churchill said. “We’re sitting ducks. Get those lights out before they get here!”
“This won’t take a minute, Winston,” the Doctor said, now buried halfway into the computer’s casing. The whole thing was flimflam and spare parts, buried into the ground with hot wires. It would burn itself out in less than an hour, but they wouldn’t last that long. With a twist and a violent yank, the computer powered down with an anticlimactic pop. A puff of gray smoke hit the Doctor right in the face, and he pulled out of the case coughing, “There you go.”
The lights in the building were slow to respond to the sudden drop in electricity, but they all went out, one by one, in a gradual shutdown that spread an eerie hush across the compound. A red emergency light flickered on, and the group of recently excited men all blinked at each other in the half-dark. It was the first time that the Doctor felt the reality that they were in a bunker. The wait was short but oppressive with anticipation.
Footsteps came down the hallway, revealing a single soldier who went right up to Churchill, oblivious to the room’s atmosphere. “It’s stopped, sir. The city is dark.”
With a loud exhale of breath, the room came to life again as everyone absorbed this news. Chatter and movement broke the hush. Churchill was swept out of the room by his men, but not before giving the Doctor a grateful nod.
“They’ve gone,” Bracewell said.
The Doctor sighed, running his hands through his hair, “Yes. They’ve gone. I stopped their plans, but they’ve gotten away from me again.”
Bracewell was hunched over the broken computer parts, grasping hold of a frayed wire absently. He looked over at the Doctor, his expression lost.
“I was a fool.”
“No,” the Doctor shook his head. “Well, yes.”
Bracewell smiled, then looked around the disaster that was once his laboratory. The Doctor leaned against his TARDIS, which was positioned at its centre. He watched the man steel himself to meet his eyes again.
“What is the bad wolf, Doctor? Why do… all of this? Why to me?”
“Because you’re so very human, Professor Bracewell,” the Doctor said. “Loyal to your country. Defender of the people you love.”
Bracewell finally threw that last piece of strayed wire to the floor in defeat. He shoved his hand into his coat pockets.
“She’s someone you love, then?” Bracewell asked.
The Doctor gave him a wry smile. When it was clear he wasn’t going to answer, Bracewell straightened.
“Stay with us, Doctor. Help me rebuild what we’ve lost. It can still be salvaged.”
“This is a load of rubbish,” the Doctor gestured to the room with a laugh. “Everything but this,” he poked Bracewell’s forehead, making the man blink. “Keep working through. You’ll find a way. You humans always do.”
With an awkward but pleased smile, Bracewell nodded as the Doctor left the room. He had to have a quick word with Winston before moving off – there was still a matter of those strange timelines to figure out.
–
Before.
–
The Doctor landed his TARDIS with a louder, more turbulent bump than usual. He felt obliged through veteran duty to check that Jack had removed all traces of the Chula ship, so had offered his companions a trip to meet an old acquaintance: Winston Churchill. The turbulence was likely being caused by the fact that he’d chosen to land while already present on the planet, so it was no real worry. For them, it had already been a couple of weeks, and he already knew what the outcome would be be today.
“You’re kidding,” Rose gushed at his side, leaning against his arm briefly. “Churchill himself? What, we’re just going to waltz right into the cabinet and ask for the Prime Minister?”
“Could do,” he grinned.
“He’s a funny man, Winston,” Jack said, as though they were old friends. “A good man to have in a tough spot.”
“You know him?” Rose asked, sounding somewhat impressed, which made the Doctor clear his throat.
“I’ve known most of the British Prime Ministers, Rose,” he said.
“But that’s not a surprise,” she said with a laugh, and the Doctor wasn’t sure to be gratified or insulted. Instead he led the way to the doors, intent on stepping out first.
When he opened them, it was to see a group of armed soldiers pointing their guns toward him, standing in a half-circle around a very surprised looking Winston Churchill. He was in the middle of lighting a cigar, mouth agape and eyes wide.
“Doctor?”
“Winston! Good to see you. Before I step out, could you please have your men remove their guns from my face? Thanks!”
Blinking incredulously, Winston waved at his men with a grunted, “at ease, at ease,” before drawing in a smokey breath.
“That too, please. Wouldn’t want my companions to get a lung full of cancer.”
Blinking again, Winston shoved his cigar at one of the soldiers and waved them all away. “Doctor, what on Earth…?”
“It’s been a while, I know. I’m surprised you recognized me!” the Doctor said cheerfully, opening the TARDIS doors to allow Rose and Jack to step out behind him. He watched Rose’s face as she took it in – the glow of seeing something new and forbidden like the Prime Minister’s private office bright in her features. Jack, on the other hand, looked around with the glee of a kid being sent to the principal’s office.
“This is Rose Tyler, and that’s Jack Harkness.”
“A pleasure, my dear,” Winston took Rose’s outstretched hand and kissed the backs of her fingers. The Doctor’s hand clenched involuntarily at his side, but relaxed again when Rose sent him a most impressed look once Winston turned away to shake Jack’s hand. She was grinning like a loon and it made him proud to have brought her here.
“It’s been a while, you say?” Winston turned to him with a confused expression. “How long, would you say?”
“Longer for me than for you,” the Doctor said enigmatically. “We dropped by to check on a little mishap that occurred last night. Could we take a quick look around?”
“Certainly, of course, certainly,” Winston rumbled, gesturing down the open hallway where officers were standing a calm guard.
The men didn’t seem in the least surprised by the Doctor’s arrival. Winston himself was also acting a little shell-shocked, which wasn’t much of a stretch considering the time period, but those things together made the Doctor cautious. He turned to Jack.
“You’ve been here before. Why don’t you give Rose a tour? I’ll catch up to you.”
“Oh, this’ll be fun. I’d love to, Doctor,” Jack grinned, offering Rose his arm. “Rosie?”
Rose sent him a curious look before linking her arm with Jack. Her smile was a little less bright when directed at their companion, but nevertheless blinding. “Ready when you are,” she said happily. Jack instantly began jabbering confidently about the bunker and led Rose down the hallway. The Doctor tuned them out.
“What’s going on?” he asked Winston.
“Ah,” Winston looked properly flustered for a few moments, more than he ever had in the Doctor’s presence, but then abruptly deflated. “You’re already here.”
“Sorry?”
“You’re already here, Doctor.”
A sweep of panic went through him, but then fizzled out just as quickly. “But not me, me?”
Winston shook his head in confirmation.
“Where am I at, then?”
“I’ve just left you at the labs. You’re likely on your way here, in fact. I’ll go this way, try to stop you, eh?”
“Fantastic,” the Doctor mumbled as Winston left, turning to where Rose and Jack were chatting happily down the hall. He should get them both out of here quickly, before they ran into himself. It would make them ask questions he wasn’t ready to answer. He wasn’t ready to talk about regeneration, not yet.
Jack had led Rose to a map tacked to the wall. They were under a light, which shone down on Rose’s hair, illuminating her in spotlight. As though she could feel him thinking of her, she turned her head just as he was about to call out. She caught his eye like a siren, smiled her best smile, and gave him a little wave. He couldn’t move.
It took only a moment for the next Doctor to walk in, all floppy-haired and fresh-faced, wearing an outfit more suitable for a granddad than the teenager he looked like. Oh, gods, he was young. Had he ever been that young before?
(Was it for Rose?)
The new Doctor froze as soon as he entered, tiny eyebrows lifting to the top of his forehead. He gave himself only the smallest of glances before immediately looking to Rose. Then his entire face slackened in awe and his eyes shone brighter than he’d ever seen on his own face. He took an involuntary step toward her before stopping himself with a full-body jolt.
It made the Doctor’s hearts lurch.
“Hello,” his next self greeted, voice a little hoarse. He kept his eyes locked on Rose, who was now laughing at something Jack said. The corner of his new mouth tilted up at the sound. His hands flexed, which made the Doctor’s own hands clench into fists.
“Was it the Chula ship?” the Doctor asked, base and direct, filling with anxiety. He didn’t like the way his next self was staring. He didn’t like the thought that this change would come soon. His next self tore his gaze to him, frowned a bit, and then returned to Rose.
“No. Worse. Spoilers,” he said, then waved his hand in a throwaway gesture that resonated again in his whole body. “Nothing’s wrong with the Chulas, Jack did a good job. He’s a good man, Jack.”
That helped the Doctor loosen, just a bit. But as he watched himself watching Rose, a dreadful inevitability spread through his stomach. He closed his eyes to hide the pain.
“She’s gone, then? She left?”
“No.”
The Doctor looked up sharply. His next self gave nothing else away, but a tender smile was lifting his lips. He looked down the hallway with a quiet, hopeful joy in his chest. Maybe it would be all right to tell her about regeneration, after all. Maybe he should.
“Didn’t think she’d leave so easily,” he said, gruffly. “Where is she then, with Jackie?”
His future smiled, finally meeting his gaze. His green eyes were incredibly warm. “Yes.”
“Good. She deserves a break from this life every now and again. Keeps her coming back.”
The smile widened. “She always does.”
The Doctor gave himself another once-over. The pain in his chest had lessened enough to notice the smaller things, now. This new him was tired, practically swaying on his feet. He must have gone through something very recently, and was seeking out Rose for the same comfort that even he sought out in her, now. The soft awe in his expression was also new: the stain of the Time War diminished...
“You’ve told her,” he said, surprised.
The next him tilted his head, flopping his hair over his eyes. He shook it away, and the action made him look young and exhausted. Whatever he’d gone through must have been terrible. But he found that he didn’t care too much, not if Rose was all right.
“Told her what?”
“How you feel.”
This got him the widest grin yet.
“She knows.”
The Doctor nodded, nervous but glad. He wasn’t ready yet – but it was good to know that he would be, some day. “Go back to your Rose and get some sleep. You’re falling all over yourself – it’s making me look bad.”
He began to walk away, but the next Doctor’s words made him pause.
“Keep her safe,” his future said. It was a demand as much as a plea. He looked back, toward what awaited him. He was a little offended that he even had to say it.
“I always do.”