You know what I shouldn't be doing right now? Playing with cyber-tech, that's what. You know why? Because that's what Jackson's allowed to do, not little Minnie. Because little Minnie was a bad daughter and slow, and couldn't do anything that she was told.
If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm Minnie – and they call me that despite the fact that my name is Maddie, Maddie McCrimmon, not Minnie. Maddie. I'm Maddie. Or rather, Madeline, but who cares about long names. Not my dad, not me – and we're the ones that matter, out everyone else in this godforsaken universe.
My dad is called the Doctor, despite the fact that he's officially named Jonathan McCrimmon. My mum was Mrs McCrimmon, once upon a time, before she had Jackson and I. You see, my dad was part of a two-way biological metacrisis, meaning he's basically an unusual mix of human and Gallifreyan, one unrecorded in all history of Gallifrey, his planet. Therefore, consequently, he allowed himself to be basically banished to a parallel universe, so no-one got any ideas about experimenting on him and suchlike. And so Mum could have at least one version of the man she loved – big mistake.
Dad's original self – Mum liked to call him Dad's brother, which is completely wrong, because he's more of a clone than anything else – was a Gallifreyan and Time-Lord, who at the start of his regeneration had his hand cut off. This hand would then become the receptacle for nearly an entire regeneration's set of energy, which my Aunt Donna – now that was a title Mum made that we could agree on – then touched at a peak moment in time, creating Dad. He'd told Jackson and I at bedtime about all his adventures as a Time Lord, when he wasn't teaching us the basics of the Time Equation and Time-Capsule Sciences.
Please take note when I say, 'as a Time Lord' – that's important.
I say 'as a Time Lord', because according to Dad, Time Lord isn't a species, it's an elevation – Gallifreyan's who have looked into the Untempered Schism become Time Lord's. Since my dad is an entire different being to his original self, he himself hasn't looked into the Schism and let it change him, despite his memory of it – and even that is supposedly hazy, because you don't look into the Schism and come out the same. After all, that was what made you a Time Lord – changing.
I'm his daughter, as you may have worked out. Jackson is my twin brother. Our mother, Rose Tyler, is human. You may think that would make us both strange, alien-human hybrids. In some ways this is true. I am not fully human, nor am I fully Gallifreyan, unlike Jackson – my twin is fully Gallifreyan, and due to this, only Dad can keep up with him, mentally. I myself could, a long time ago, do this as well.
Then Mum started to see things differently.
She called Jackson a genius – he isn't, according to Dad, just a normal, if a little naïve, baby Gallifreyan – and looked at me as if she expected better. I didn't know it at the time, but it was exactly that. She did expect better. She was disappointed her only daughter was that much more like her than her son. She praised Jackson when he wrote out 'I love you' in Circular Gallifreyan for her at three. She scolded me when I did the same a month later and slanted everything. As you might understand, this upset my Dad. By the time Jackson and I hit five, they were divorced, and sorting out custody arrangements.
For the next few years, we stayed Monday to Thursday with Dad, and Friday to Monday morning with Mum. Things were rocky. Sometimes, I would be dumped with Grandpa, Gran and Uncle Tony the entire time Mum was with Jackson. Sometimes, on Dad's days, Mum refused to let Jackson leave Tyler Manor. I think it was only because it impacted on his education in comparison to me that made Mum see straight – or rather, backwards. She began to keep me behind instead, and I slacked on my studies. Dad taught us everything himself – there was no Academy, but that was fine. We weren't going to be doing much with the territorial habits of Gallifreyan trunkike's. Apparently they were some sort of bird – Dad said they were a big part of Gallifrey's eco-system, omnivores that targeted food-sources that were in abundance, in a natural attempt to keep everything balanced. Gallifreyan's included.
But yes, in any case, Mum was very anti-Maddie, and quickly went back to stealing Jackson, not allowing Dad to take full custody of me despite this. Jackson and I were a 'package deal', according to her, which was annoying enough considering the fact that we barely knew each other due to her antics. We didn't talk much, though Jackson tried to protect me from Mum frequently. He's just like Dad in that, but really, we have been separated so much as kids, our lives in general – it was more natural for us to be apart. As I said, I could keep up with him too, a long time ago. Not anymore. My own twin, and we didn't know each other. We didn't have a secret language, or know each other's smiles. I couldn't tell when he lied, and he didn't know my favourite colour. We couldn't fight one second then laugh the next.
I slammed my hand down on the shelf at my own thoughts, angry, rattling components, a thud reverberating through the dark supply closet. My heart immediately thudded, blood pumping faster, my body freezing. Shit. What if someone heard that? But there were no footsteps, or any shouts or calls. Was I safe?
A few more minutes past before I moved again, breathing in slowly, happy that out of the things wrong with me, I had some form of a respiratory bypass. I sagged, hand gripping the screwdriver in my left tightly, other tight around the metal frame of the shelf. I hated this. Having to hide – Mum hated seeing me doing something clever, something like my Dad. I'd been in Tyler Manor two months now. I bashed the shelf again, hissing as I caught my wrist on a spare screw that had rolled across the shelf.
Why did Dad have to go and die?
Why did he have to go on that stupid bridge?
Why did that stupid suicide-bomber choose to end his own life, and the lives of eighty-three others, including my dad?
In my pocket, my mobile rang. I put the screwdriver down, rubbing my wrist before taking it out, looking at the caller ID. Jackson. I answered, putting it down on the shelf, not bothering to put it on speaker, alien hearing picking it up just fine. I might not be able to hear right across the property like my brother, but I could damn well hear good in close quarters.
"Maddie, what's all the noise for?"
"Got anything better to do than call me about it? Thought you were in the Bahamas," I replied, getting back to the cyber-tech in front of me.
"I caught a flight home yesterday, citing I forgot to hand in an essay." I snorted, knowing that if I'd told Mum that, she'd not have even cared I'd be missing a deadline – she hadn't bothered to invite me for her annual, month-long holiday with her stupid boyfriend and Uncle Tony though, again, so the point was moot. "Don't get like that. Now tell me what you're working on before I tell you what I found out yesterday that caused me to come home."
I pressed my lips together, unable to push away my curiosity. Why had he come home? He loved the Bahamas – never missed a chance to go, even when it meant missing days with Dad. I glanced at my little project that I'd been working on for the last few hours.
"Cyber-tech. I swiped it from the tunnels. I don't know what I'd done to it," I peered at it, putting my face right up to it, dark brown strands of hair falling over my shoulder. I'd gotten one side of my hair braided into my head a few weeks ago, so it didn't bother me as much as the rest did. "I think I've converted a communication array into a data transmitter."
"…that's actually more than I expected, or needed. Come up to my room. I found something in father's belongings that he left me." My eyes widened, shooting to the phone. I picked it up, bringing it to my ear.
"What do you mean you found something in Dad's stuff?"
"Come up to my room and I will show you, Madeline." He hung up, and I cursed him in High Gallifreyan before hastily tucking my phone back into the pocket of my blazer – Dad's blazer, his favourite blue blazer that was older than me and more loved than any other piece of clothing he'd ever owned, including the matching slacks. A handy part about it as well were the bigger-on-the-inside pockets.
What was inside probably saved Dad from at least a decade of misery, and would amuse me for a long time to come, when I pulled together enough courage to delve inside.
Gathering together my messed-up cyber-tech, I hurried out of the closet, looking left and right, hearing reaching out as far as I could. Two cleaners were down the hall to my left. Grandpa was in his study across the entrance hall, directly in front of me. Gran, I knew had gone to stay in central London for the weekend. Now I didn't have anything against my grandparents – but honestly, they were too invested in their own children to be invested in either of their grandchildren. Grandpa was better than Gran at least – he bought me my own little birthday cake and served it to me at midnight in my room, after I was kicked out of Jackson's great birthday bash, and was so ashamed that he got both my name and age wrong. Though to be quite fair, he did that with everyone – the age thing. And Mum hadn't exactly made it easy for him to call me Maddie.
Knowing there wouldn't be any surprises, but with the cleaners coming my way, I hurriedly walked across the entrance hall, going up the stairs three at a time in an effort to get to Jackson's room quicker. Not surprisingly, upon going to the third floor, Jackson was already waiting with the door open.
"Come on inside," he directed, and I slowed, boots thumping softly along the carpet.
"What's this about, Jackson?" He stayed silent, only holding the door open wider. I went inside, eyeing him for a moment before turning my gaze on his room.
Like expected, it was an organised mess. Photographs and sketches and full-blown canvases covered the walls. Mum hadn't expected Jackson to go into photography, and then subsequently art. What we saw every day couldn't be captured by any ordinary camera, despite Dad and Jackson's differing and then cooperative work on creating one that could. I even offered input, once, and it had helped, but not enough – Jackson turned to art, something he was good at. I was too, but I preferred bionics, and metal-working, and shaping things to my will. Jackson was naturally creative, and had so many ideas, just like Grandpa, and with art, he could portray everything he wanted in any way he wanted.
"What are you working on?" I nodded towards an easel, that faced towards the door, canvas the wrong way around to be seen. I could smell fresh oil paints – blue was one of them. It was one of those distinct ones, a balance of chemicals that weren't so easily forgotten. Walking over, I glanced at it, stopping at the sight of a blue, nineteen fifties police box flying through a vortex, painted with a miasma of colours – of blues that were so different from the box…
"The TARDIS in the Time Vortex – I dream of it at night," Jackson shut his door, going over to his bed and taking something from a drawer. Immediately I started hearing a pounding – a heartbeat. The thing hidden in his hand radiated the sound, and for a moment I wondered how distracted I'd been not to hear it. Jackson came over, revealing a fist-sized contraption, clockwork and electricity visible inside it's glass container.
"What is it?"
"Dad." I looked up to see Jackson staring at it, eyes glowing slightly. "Whenever I hold it, I see…everything. Everything he was, everything he became here. He knew he was going to die, Madeline, he could feel the strings of his timeline wavering, losing their place in the Universe. He created this," Jackson looked up, long brown fringe falling over dark brown orbs that radiated muted yellow light, "He created a bastardisation of a Chameleon Arch and stored himself in this, Madeline, less than an hour before the bridge, leaving instructions in the mind of the body left behind to walk, and keep walking." He held it out- held out what amounted to our father's soul, and dropped it.
My hand reached out on automatic, catching it, and then my mind was full of images. A face surrounded by hair the colour of fire, the TARDIS screaming in his mind, helping, flying, silent, like on submarines, don't drop a spanner!, twenty-seven planets, z-neutrino energy, DAVROS, DALEKS, I CAN DO THIS, Davros, Rose, pain, DONNA!, no, no, no, I failed…Donna? Donna?! What? Two-way biological metacrisis -what! Hah! Hah! But- daleks, prophecy, I have to, no-
Bad Wolf Bay, Rose Tyler, I love you-
The sight of my mother, the reminder, forced me out of it all, my mind rebelling, because I knew my father love my mother, I knew, I didn't need to be reminded – but he loved us more, he loved me more. And I didn't want to feel that, not now, not ev-
My breath caught.
"Chameleon Arch," I breathed, looking at Jackson, feeling as if I were made of glass. "We can bring him back."
But Jackson shook his head, before taking the cyber-tech from my spare hand and turning to the bed, scattering it across the perfect sheets. I followed him over, watching as he sorted it out.
"I've studied that thing – I've looked at the plans, and found the arch. Dad didn't waste time with the biological aspect or the replacement personality, or even the return of the memories. He just stored them. He didn't have time." He grabbed the main piece of cyber-tech – the one I'd identified as a data transmitter. He turned to me, eyes alight with a fire I'd never seen before. "He didn't have time, because all these years, he's been modifying the dimension cannon Mum created – changing it so he could go back."
"But what about us?" I asked, "He- he wouldn't have just left us, if he'd finished it, no."
Jackson shook his head, before grabbing my arms, freaking me out slightly because Jackson never touched me. No-one did. "Madeline, he did finish it, but there isn't enough room. He created a ship only large enough for one, and left us this, so one of us could go." I opened my mouth to talk, but he kept on, "You're going. I can deal with Mum." He pushed the data transmitter into my hands, alongside the fragile container of Dad's essence. "You deserve better than this, Madeline, you always have."
"Jackson…" I couldn't go, not without him, not now. "Jackson, you're my brother-"
"Only in blood," he shook his head, mouth a firm line, "We're not siblings, Madeline. At most, we're distant friends with one key matter of interest keeping us together." His face was hard, and almost angry, and I stepped back, face blank.
What he said wasn't true. It couldn't be – not when he was doing this for me, not when he called me Madeline and put me first.
"What if I want you to go?"
"I can't," he immediately answered, confusing me, "One of us has to stay to stop Mum from blasting through the walls of the Universe, after all, and she'd never listen to what you have to say." His words were harsh but true, and I couldn't help but flinch, nodding. Jackson had made his mind up, and there was no changing it – just like Mum. She'd become the Bad Wolf just to get back to Dad's side, and she was human – Jackson would do anything to keep me safe, because I'm his sister, no matter what bullshit he said about being distant friends.
"Fine," I finally agreed, not being able to help feeling bitter, "but what happens now? You send me off in a little spaceship hidden in the depths of Torchwood?"
"No," he pointed to my hands, nimble and lithe compared to his large, if delicate ligaments, "first you fix those together somehow, without damaging either. Dad knew how to do it, but he didn't have the parts. When it explained though, I didn't understand – I don't know mechanics, despite what Mum may believe. That was always you. Once you've done that, then we send you off in the little spaceship hidden in the depths of Torchwood."
And despite it all, I felt a grin escape me, an eyebrow rising high, my eyes flashing.
"It really is in the depths of Torchwood?"
Jackson rolled his eyes.
Why did it have to rain in Cardiff all the time – seriously! Why? As if it wasn't dour enough…
Grumbling, I went into the weird shiny building, thanking Rassilon it was open at this time of night – a guy was even behind the counter. I looked around for a TV and found one showing the rugby. Wales vs. Australia. I looked around for a remote, finding one on the counter in front of the guy. Going over, I picked it up, leaning on the handy surface as I brought up the info bar with difficulty, taking in the time and date.
Immediately, I cursed, muttering, "Shite."
"Something wrong?"
I looked to the guy, noting a familiarity before ignoring it, putting the remote down. "I was supposed to be picked up by a friend," I lied easily, wondering if he would pity me and give me somewhere to crash. When I had said 'Torchwood', I had meant Torchwood in London – Jackson, however, had meant Torchwood in bloody Wales, completely throwing me off my game. "They bailed on me, and it's too late for me to call them – they're on shift in ten minutes. Know anywhere that would put me up?"
"Sorry – but hey, did you see the crash earlier?" I glanced at him.
"Crash?" So someone had seen it. Fantastic. Brilliant. Molte bene. "Yeah, somewhere over that way?" I waved to where I'd landed. "I don't know, mate."
He chuckled, before I heard the door open, admitting someone – someone who clicked the safety off a gun. "Yeah, like we'd believe that, princess. We've got footage of you stepping out of the wreck."
I turned, taking him in before I spoke. Nice height, good build, trench coat – belt and suspenders? I raised an eyebrow momentarily, before focusing on the face.
Oh.
Oh.
"Uncle Jack," I muttered, surprised. "Well that's not something you see every day." Just my luck to run into the guy hours before he gets reacquainted with my mum – and meets my dad.
Jack raised his own eyebrow, "Uncle Jack?" He repeated, "You know me?"
I shifted, "We've never actually met in person, so, uh, no, not really, though I know of you. My parents were friends of yours. As you might have noticed, I'm in a bit of a bind."
"Yeah," he finally lowered his gun – some total retro nineteen twenties thing that looked positively ancient – before changing position, holding out his hand. "Hi."
"Stop," I glared in answer, knowing what he was like. My reaction caused his eyebrow to raise higher.
"You sound like an old friend."
"Yeah, well I don't know who that 'old friend' is," I scoffed with fake bravado, focusing on the technicalities of my dad being a metacrisis and not actually being my dad's other self, in case there were any truth readers about, or whatever, "but you'll be getting to meet my parents shortly. Was why I looked at the box-thing," I motioned to the telly, grimacing as I glanced at it, "How do you deal with it?" Try not to think of what's going to happen, try not to think of what's going to happen-
Jack chuckled, "You get used to it. What time are you from? Fifty-first?"
"I'm going to be born about five years from now, actually – unfortunately, my planet runs at a bit faster a pace, technologically speaking."
Jack smiled, before putting his arms out, "So, what're you doing here in this time-period? Accident? Or just some funky space-travel?" He joked, coming forward to stand beside me, leaning over to kiss the man behind the counter. I backed away a touch at the PDA, but didn't let it get to me. Mum and Gran might have thought it was weird, but I liked to hold myself to higher standards. When he was finished, he looked to me. "Well?"
I blinked, remembering he'd asked a question. "Uh, I'm looking for someone. I didn't realise I had travelled in time-" at least, not so far back "-so that's fucked some things up a bit."
"Don't swear," the man at the counter reprimanded quietly. I glanced at him.
"Sorry. And for before." He shrugged, silent again, before Jack patted my shoulder.
"Oh, don't mind Ianto, Miss…"
"McCrimmon," I gave a short smile, "Madeline McCrimmon. I like being called Maddie though."
"Miss Maddie," Jack's smile widened, and it was so much nicer than I was used to – even Dad's smile weren't so welcoming, not that they had been bad. They just didn't have Jack's energy – it was contagious. "Why don't you come down to the Hub and get warmed up? You're freezing under that," his fingers mindfully tapped the skin under my leather jacket's collar, under my striped shirt, where it had fallen and dipped and clung to my skin in the rain. I hesitated at his offer, smile dropping. What would he say when he realised I wouldn't get any warmer?
"Come on, it's not that bad," his smile became charming, and my smile returned a little.
"I do need to crash somewhere. Got a spare chair down there to sit on."
"Nope," Ianto stood finally, "but we do have boxes."
Quickly, we made our way down, whereupon I was introduced to Gwen Cooper before being directed to a bathroom.
"Now there's a shower in there, and spare towels here – I'll get you some clothes while you get warm. Okay sweetie?" Jack asked, voice low but caring. I nodded, chest tightening and my eyes stinging at his kindness. "Okay, the lock doesn't work, but we won't come in, okay? Okay." He smiled, waving before shutting it, leaving me alone. Immediately I shut my eyes, hand going to my chest.
Holy fuck.
Holy fucking Rassilon, why wasn't Mum like this? I stifled a sob, biting on my arm until my sobs disappeared, eyes watery. Why wasn't Mum like Jack? Why hadn't she ever been kind to me? Why couldn't I be good enough for her? I stripped violently, only taking care once – with my satchel, which held everything I had left from home. Everything else was thrown to the ground, before I put the shower on and stepped in, forcing my physical reaction to the sudden heat away, standing under the spray until I felt like all the emotion had drained out of me, only one question remaining.
Why had Mum hated me so much?
After my shower – and having taken my side-braids out, feeling as if a headache had just disappeared – I dried off and got changed into a new set of clothes from my bag, forgetting that Jack said he'd give me some. As soon as I exited the bathroom, Jack had just given me this look.
"What?"
"Uh-uh, honey, you are not wearing those," he pointed at my jean shorts. I looked down. Black tank top, oversized black knit sweater, shorts, tights, boots…I was wearing tights underneath them, shouldn't that be fine?... "Here." He chucked me a pair of jeans, which I unfolded and looked at the label after seeing they were plain black. I forced myself not to react upon seeing they were a size too small. I liked my shorts though. What would teach him… I smirked all of a sudden.
"The bathroom's all wet and disgusting. I can't get changed in there anymore."
Jack folded his arms, eyes narrowing, "You will change."
"Where? In front of you?" I challenged, eyes glittering.
"If you have to," he replied simply. "I won't let my friend's daughter run around in short shorts." Short shorts? I raised an eyebrow before lifting my legs up, pulling off my boots, dropping them onto the floor.
"What are you doing?" Gwen questioned, before I unbuttoned my shorts and let them drop, then quickly hopped around, pulling off my tights. "Oh!" Gwen looked away, but both Jack and Ianto kept staring, looking like a set of stubborn parents as I pulled on the black skinny jeans, smirking as I did up the button, ignoring the tight feeling around my hips because of it.
"Happy?" I said, collecting up my things and folding them into my bag, catching a pair of plain black socks Ianto threw.
Jack pursed his lips, "You're a handful – how old are you again?"
"Eighteen," I said glibly, before putting the socks and then my boots on. "So, Uncle Jack, what do you want me to do now?"
"Go sit in the corner," he immediately ordered, pointing to a corner. I raised a sketchy eyebrow. "Oh no, missy, I'm serious. Corner. Now. For an hour."
"An hour?" I looked at him, dismayed. Ianto made a noise.
"That's a bit long, Jack – twenty minutes, at least."
But Jack shook his head, "No, an hour. That's when all the police officers change shift and patrol the bay. It's already one – she's eighteen, if she's out at two in the morning, they'll ask questions she can't answer, and she'll get chucked in a holding cell. We don't have Tosh anymore. We can't make fake ID's on the fly."
I glared at him, but he pointed at the corner. "If you fall asleep, know you'll wake up in a comfy bed," he promised, smiling fakely as I trudged over to the box in the corner, mood seriously dampened. I only needed a few hours of sleep – I might as well get some now.
Hopefully I wouldn't fall off the box.
Jack watched her nod off silently before going to pick her up, bringing the girl down further into the base, into one of the overnight rooms. Gwen was going to have to come back in an hour anyway, so she didn't bother going home, citing she'd go hang around the Hub kitchen for a while. He felt guilty calling her in, but he'd needed someone inside the base while Ianto and he went out to investigate. Coming across the footage of her exiting the craft that had appeared from the Rift had been luck on Gwen's part, but it was Ianto's knowledge of shortcuts through Cardiff that got them back to Torchwood before the girl, just in time to intercept her.
The immortal did have to say, being called Uncle Jack was a surprise, but not much of one – he'd been called other things far more familiar. Finding out that he'd meet her parents soon though had him worried – if she wasn't lying about appearing too early, then she was in real danger of changing her parents' timeline, potentially erasing herself from existence. So, first he had to gain her trust. It was easy, but Jack was a good judge of character, so inwardly swore not to do anything treacherous, unless he had to. After all, they'd never met – he wanted to make a good impression. Being the favourite uncle was a good title to have.
Once back in the main hub, Ianto held out a coffee, which he took gratefully. "What do you think of her?"
"A handful," he laughed a little, repeating his earlier words. "Did you see the tattoo?"
"The symbols?"
Jack nodded, sipping his coffee, "Yeah. Guess what they say though?"
Ianto's eyebrows rose, "They're a language? Alien?"
Jack laughed louder at that, shaking his head, "It's not just any old alien language though, Ianto, it's-" he laughed a little more, pausing to sip his coffee again, "it's Tolkien Elvish. Ianto, Miss Madeline McCrimmon's a nerd. She has Tolkien Elvish written on her thigh, and- and it's not a Tolkien quote. It's Harry Potter." He laughed again, spilling his coffee on his jacket, which he pulled off a few seconds later.
Ianto looked at him with an unimpressed look, "What does it say?"
Jack snorted.
"'What is the function of a rubber duck?'"
I awoke by falling out of bed.
Luckily, I managed not to bang my head, but the tremor had jolted everything, and after-tremors were making everything shake. Things were falling from shelves. I grabbed my bag, holding it to me tightly before pulling down the rest of my duvet, shuffling under the bed so nothing hit me. I knew what this was – I knew what was happening.
The Earth was being moved to become part of the Reality Bomb.
After a few minutes, they stopped, but I didn't get out from under the bed. I needed to stay out of this, events-
The door to the bedroom opened, Ianto's head popping through. He located me under the bed, nodding. "Stay under there." I nodded my assent, and he gave a slight grin before leaving, shutting the door behind him.
I tried not to hyperventilate.
The Doctor looked to Jack as he came back inside, eyebrow rising, "Not leaving, are you?"
Jack shrugged, "I need a lift – there's someone at Torchwood I need to get back to. Madeline McCrimmon. Ever heard of her?" He questioned, watching the Doctor closely. But the man only frowned, shaking his head.
"No, should I?"
Jack waved it off, coming to stand at the console with Rose and the other Doctor, "It's probably nothing. She appeared through the Rift a couple of hours before the Earth moved – apparently, she didn't mean to come back this far in time."
The Doctor raised an eyebrow, "Well, that's interesting to say the least," he started to work around the console, before speaking, clearly finished that line of conversation. "And last but not least…"
It was safe to say that when the TARDIS appeared inside Torchwood, Ianto was relieved. Gwen's face was a laugh, but when Jack exited after the Doctor, Ianto couldn't care less – however, there were some things that needed to be addressed.
"Miss McCrimmon won't come out from under the bed she's been hiding underneath during this entire incident."
Jack's face was immediately one of concern, "What's wrong with her? Does she think there are still Daleks about?"
"No," Gwen spoke up, having tried to persuade her to come out herself, "but she is scared, and doesn't know what to do. She's holding that bag of hers like a lifeline."
The Doctor hummed, "Where is she?"
"This way," Jack directed, brow furrowed as he led the way down, entering the room slowly. "Maddie? Maddie, Ianto and Gwen said you wouldn't come out…" he crouched, looking under the metal frame. "Hey, everything's fine. The world's saved and the Daleks are gone…"
I was breathing too fast, and I wasn't getting any air despite that. I clutched my satchel closer to my chest, hoping to Rassilon I didn't break the container inside.
"Maddie, what's wrong? Come on, you can tell me – I'm your Uncle Jack," Jack teased, before falling silent, waiting for me to respond. I tried to calm down, tried to slow my breathing. I ignored whatever else he said, focusing on calming down. Focused on slowing my breathing. Calm, calm, calm…
"Hello Madeline," a voice suddenly broke through everything. My breathing hitched. Am I going mad? "I'm the Doctor. Do you think you could come out from under there? Or would you like to stay? You can stay if you like, I don't mind. Just, I'd like to talk to you, ask you some questions – why is Jack suddenly an uncle? Is he really your uncle? I didn't know he had a sister."
"I don't."
"Brother, then?"
I opened my eyes, and he was looking away, but his face turned to mine and brown met dark, muddy green. Without my permission, my eyes started getting watery, and his expression changed, and he moved, going down onto the floor on his chest.
"Oh, hey, don't do that. What's the matter? What's wrong?" My shoulders shook, before I scrambled out from under the bed, satchel being pushed to the side. He sat up, and then I hugged him. I couldn't help it.
It was Dad's original self.
His arms wrapped around my hesitantly as I clung to him like a limpet, ear pressed to his chest, hearing a double-beat I had only ever heard from Jackson.
"Oh, well that was unexpected," he murmured, sounding confused. I shook further, knowing it wasn't him – it wasn't my Dad. Except it was, it could be – it would be. But only if he accepted the memories.
Suddenly I had doubts.
Would he even want the memories? Would he even want to be my dad? He- he wasn't even human. He was like Jackson. For all I knew, my Dad had learnt to be how he was, or gained that from Aunt Donna.
I pulled away.
The Doctor – because he's the Doctor, he's not Dad – looked at me with familiar confusion, and familiar non-understanding. I looked away, searching for the satchel, finding it quickly and opening it, rifling through.
It would be his choice.
I took out the contraption that my father had made in his last days, and locked eyes with the first Time Lord I had ever met.
"My name is Madeline McCrimmon. I came to give you this," my voice was low, broken, almost croaky, but not. He looked down, frowning, head tilting.
"What is it?"
"Memories. A life of a man who both loved and hated the life you gave him. But it's too soon, I arrived too soon. I wasn't meant to be here – I could have broken time by being here right now." I looked down at the container, stroking the glass, eyes shutting as I saw a glimpse of myself in my head, and Jackson, and lessons on the applications of an advanced physics theorem on an alien planet. "I was supposed to arrive in twenty-fifteen – on my birthday."
"What's so important about the time you arrive?"
I glared, "Because if I had arrived too soon, I could have prevented my father's own existence, and- and everything." I put the contraption on the ground beside me, looking through my bag again, pulling out my phone and turning it on, ignoring what was going on around me. I needed to see his face – his face, not some imposter.
Bringing up the photos, I swiped along, until I came to the one that I wanted. My sixteenth birthday – Dad had taken me to Hawaii, and we'd gotten straw hats and flower rings and gone to the beach, drinking from coconuts. Smile Maddie! I looked at us for barely a few seconds more before putting my phone away haphazardly.
"Sorry," I muttered, slumping before rubbing my face, "I'm sorry. I- I can't do this. Why the hell couldn't you have gone, Jackson? Why the hell…" I got up, picking up the duvet for the bed and making it, putting my satchel on the end before turning to pick the contraption up off the floor – only to find not-Dad peering at it, a pair of glasses sitting on his face.
"Did you make this?" He looked at me, where I stood, frozen, before standing, turning to Jack. "Cyber-tech, here, and then, not-Cyber-tech. Human mechanical components," he looked back at me, "but not put together in a human way. Humans don't have this kind of science. When did you say you were from?"
"I'm eighteen," I muttered, letting him extrapolate from that – but he made a face.
"Still not far enough forwards. This kind of tech – it's like, mad scientist mechanic of the thirtieth century building stuff from the fiftieth who doesn't have small enough parts to make a cohesive unit." He went to press a button – The button.
"Don't," I hastily stepped forwards, taking his hand, "If…if you press it, you'll remember."
"I'll remember?" He scrunched up his nose, "Remember what? Like the fact that you got two of your tattoos when you were fifteen using a fake ID and it was the first time I'd ever grounded you and-" his eyes widened, as had my own. "What- what?! How?" He looked between me and the contraption, face filling with an unidentifiable emotion. Jack made a noise.
"I thought you'd never met her, Doc?"
"I haven't," the Doctor looked at me, long and hard, before his face suddenly went slack. "No. No way. Are you- are you…" He put the contraption on a shelf, stepping forward and taking my pulse, before holding my nose. I kept my mouth shut, knowing what he was trying to do.
After I passed the normal, human limitation, Jack stepped forward, but I put up a hand, making him wait. While it went on, Gwen and Ianto slipped away, and then Jack, after a bit, but soon after I started feeling a constricting feeling in my chest and reached up, taking the Doctor's fingers from my nose, breathing in sharply.
"I'm still vaguely human – Jackson was the full Gallifreyan out of us both." I rubbed my chest, watching him.
"You're Rose's daughter." He finally said, and I was glad Jack had left, watching as the Doctor rubbed his chin, staring at me. "What are you doing here?"
I motioned to the contraption.
"Dad's dead. I…I don't get along with Mum," I admitted shakily, "I never have. Jackson forced me to come. She always favoured him. He's the only one who can convince her not to follow me. She would have broken down the walls of the universe all over again if Jackson had been the one to go. I wouldn't have been able to stop her."
"Jackson – is he your brother?"
I nodded, "My twin, but we never- Mum was always trying to hoard him. She made me stay in my room. I- we were never that close." There was a beat, and the Doctor looked angry – so terribly, terribly angry, and I stepped back, and it all fell away into apology and sorrow. "It's okay."
"No, it's really not," he muttered, before picking up the contraption, sticking it into his pocket. "I need to think." He went for the door, and I panicked, lurching forward to grab his sleeve.
"Please don't leave me," he looked at me, and all at once his face filled with terror, and I let go, face crumpling. "I'm sorry. You- you're not him. I'm sorry," I repeated, going back over to the bed, hand gripping my satchel. "You need to think." He didn't leave, still standing there. I turned, snapping. "You said you needed to think. If you're just going to stand there-"
"If I took on your father's memories, do you think I'd just suddenly become him?" He interrupted. I shut my mouth, lips tightening. "Because I wouldn't. I- I'd know you were my daughter. I would remember being him – but I wouldn't be him. I am most likely a completely different person to your father, Madeline."
"I know that," I said quietly.
"Do you?" He questioned, "Because when your father was 'born', he destroyed an entire Dalek empire. And your mother was supposed to make him better, like she did me – but there are different ways to become better."
I stamped my foot, feeling juvenile. "I know, I know, okay? You aren't the same person, you're the original and my dad was the pale copy," snapping at him made me feel even smaller, somehow, like I was doing something childish, "I know I'm just a kid that wants their daddy back. But he made that stupid bastardisation of a chameleon arch for a reason – he made the ship to send a single person through the walls of the universe for a reason. Now I have no idea whether he meant to send me or Jackson back to you when he died, but I will not let you take him away from me and set him on a shelf somewhere – whether that's in your TARDIS, or in your own head." I finished with a glare, feeling downright awful.
I'd basically said that he could remember and accept my dad's life as part of his own, or give it all up. No inbetween.
By his face, I bet he was going to take the second option.
I held my hand out.
He turned, opened the door and left.