Come and Go

by Ahn-Li Steffraini

Summary: AU - Things changed after Messaline. The Doctor survived the heart attack, but is now forced to accept 'retirement' on Earth with his brother, Braxiatel, acting in his stead.

Rating: Teen - swearing.

Characters: Doctor Who - 10th Doctor, Martha, Donna, Braxiatel, plus one surprise cast member to be announced in this story.

SJA - Sarah Jane, sometimes K9

Torchwood - full cast

Author's Note: Immediately follows "Fear". The Doctor is "retired" on Earth and still recovering from his right-sided heart attack after "The Doctor's Daughter". To fill in the blanks - The Doctor had a right-sided heart attack brought on by stress after Messaline and the loss of Jenny. He collapsed outside of Martha's house right when he dropped her off. A "dream team" of xeno-medical experts from both UNIT and Torchwood saved his life, but it was discovered that he was forever weakened by the experience - meaning he likely couldn't travel in his usual way anymore. However, another Time Lord by the name of Braxiatel, coincidentally the Doctor's elder brother (literally!) was attracted by the time lines being messed up and traced it back to Earth and found the ailing Doctor. It was agreed, in the interest of preserving the Time Lines, that for now Braxiatel would help his brother at least once, and so he and Donna went to Shan Shen and so far haven't been heard from. Jack managed to talk the Doctor into a taking consultation position temporarily at Torchwood 3 to keep the Doctor from getting bored, as well as to make sure that the lead xeno-medical doctor, Owen Harper, was in close range while he recovered and to keep the Doctor safe from whatever chaos was coming...

Spoilers: Everything having to do with s4 of New Who, before CoE for Torchwood and not a clue on SJA as I've never actually seen that show.

AU Note: Everything after "the Doctor's Daughter" and "Adrift" for TW. This story takes place starting at "Turn Left" for DW (where Braxiatel left off with Donna in Fear) and we start with "Fragments" for TW.

Extra Note for Good Measure: Thank you to my beta, Chellus.


This story is the now changed Time Lines.


CHAPTER ONE

Gwen came in silently that morning. In fact, it was a habit all of them had picked up ever since they had managed to pick up one more alien to add to their growing collection. The only difference between this alien's 'collection' and the rest of them was that Jack tended to ask, nicely, for his help instead of keeping him prisoner. Gwen smiled as she peeked into the sleeping alien's room and came to a quick stop.

He was still asleep, and all she could see of him was his back underneath the blankets as he lay sleeping on his side, facing away from the office space. She could just barely hear the sound of soft rhythmic snores.

Weeks ago, their lives had been turned upside down when they had to turn their conference room into a hospital room for the ailing alien. It had, slowly and as the alien had recovered more and more, grown into a bit more like his private room and very limited workspace and office. Medical equipment for a heart patient still sat beside the bed, just in case, but had not been needed for the past few days when Owen, with a few other xeno-medical colleagues, had proclaimed the alien healthy enough to not require the equipment.

He wasn't healthy by far, and still spent most of his time sleeping, but at least now he wasn't attached to monitors and IV lines, although Owen still checked him over morning and night...

... Gwen silently closed the door more and went down to the office to start turning things on.

Gwen was sure, other than Owen, that she was the first here. Owen tended to stay here at night as well, ever since the alien known as the Doctor had been moved here from the Leadworth Medical Centre and not been cleared for even light duty or to be sent 'home' or in the least released from twenty four hour medical watch.

It seemed to be a slow process, he had already been in a hospital - if you included the time at Torchwood - for just over a month and was already chewing through the fifth week. The cog wheel cycled open, and then stayed that way as the lights came on. Gwen looked up as Jack walked in, using the catwalk to look in on his friend, but stepped back equally quickly, closing the second door completely before retracing his steps and coming to to Gwen. "Was he asleep when you got here?"

"Just got here a few moments myself," she answered quietly. "And he was snoring then."

"Well, he's still snoring," said Jack, with a smile. "Nearly nine o'clock in the morning. Will have to ask Owen..."

"Ask me what?" asked Owen as he came up from Autopsy.

"How well did the Doctor sleep last night?" asked Gwen.

"Solid - fell asleep while reading at around ten, hasn't moved except to roll over like a normal sleeping man since. Although... Jack, can I talk to you?" asked Owen, motioning him to follow the 'dead' medic into autopsy. Jack did, and when they were alone, Owen turned back around. "Did you know he has night terrors?"

"He has what?" exclaimed Jack, then with a startled look at his outburst he quieted after looking around, almost as if something would sweep in at the outburst. "No, I didn't. It never showed up in the hospital, did it?"

"No, but we've been backing off on the sedatives each night to wean him back to a normal sleeping pattern... what ever that is for him... and last night I was quite startled by screams and garbled commands in a language I've never heard before..." Owen turned on the recording, and Jack could hear his friend's voice shouting, sometimes clearly, what in tone sounded like orders, other times it would fall off and then come back like cries of pure torment, in the same language... Jack felt spooked and he could see the mirror of the same expression on Owen's face. "I'm guessing it's his native language... and it's pretty even if the sub-tonals and harmonics that his larynx can produce can't be produced by a human one. I would have written it off as possible withdrawal from the sedative and tranquillizers, but we've been careful to back it off slowly... and this seems like something else. Was he... was he a soldier?"

Jack took a breath, and then paced. Owen watched, his expression softening. "He was."

"He fought in a war, something called the Last Great Time War." Jack looked up and at the wall as if he could see through the wall and to the sleeping alien in question. "Those sound like flashbacks, even if I can't understand what's said, the meaning is easy enough to hear."

"Yeah, I figured it was something like that," said Owen with a bit of a sigh. "What the fuck do we do now? Like really? I'm no fucking psycho-analyst, especially not a xeno-psychologist. We can't let him keep doing that or he'll be back in the hospital again... in fact I have a feeling that had something to do with the heart attack in the first place."

Jack blew out a breath through his lips. "I had no idea... I mean... if you knew him before you'd never know but, at the same time I guess I should have known. Just because he's not human doesn't mean he's not..."

"A thinking, feeling living being?" asked Owen. "Yeah. We got Gwen to help us remember we're dealing with humans up there. Now we've got him to remind us that aliens are living and often sentient, with emotions and issues all their own. Big fucking surprise there. He fits right in!"

Jack glared at Owen and the medic blew out another breath. "Sorry. I keep my typical to myself with him around. He's like someone's grandfather, really, with the not being able to handle a few nasty words. Like it shocks his delicate sensibilities. I have to take moments away from him to blow off steam."

"Owen, he's a Time Lord. According to other races out there the Time Lords were a race full of stiff shirts as a culture, and to top it all off he's old. Real old... not really by his own race's standards for real old but getting there," explained Jack. "He is likely someone's grandfather... and you met Braxiatel..."

"Yeah, yeah, stiff shirt of stiffs. I get it."

"Another one of their race was Harold Saxon." Jack looked at Owen sideways, and watched as Owen sputtered in shock. "Now, he was eccentric, but remember now that you've seen three. Common among them all is?"

"Stiff shirts," answered Owen. "Arrogant stiff shirts, but point is taken."

"Be patient with him. Chances are that he won't remember having the dreams, especially now that he's had a few hours of restful, dreamless, sleep... or won't admit it."


He rolled over from his side, to his back, blearily letting himself drift in that comfortable area between sleep and waking. His limbs felt leaden, as if under heavy blankets, as did his entire body. If he'd been more awake he would have been able to tell himself that it was because the muscles had completely relaxed, letting him flop limp and seemingly boneless in the paralysing embrace that came with sleep... the natural reflex so that one didn't act out dreams but instead could only lie still or do no more than twitch fingers aimlessly while the mind could literally be doing somersaults.

The next leap his mind would have taken would have been to explain that sleepwalking occurred when this 'reflex' to shut down physical response was overridden instead.

But he wasn't quite awake. His synapses, normally faster than lightening, refused to fire or did so with half-hearted aimless twitches.

This suited him fine, really.

Again, had be been awake he could have quipped a quote by Newton, such as, "A body in motion tends to want to stay in motion whilst one at rest tends to want to remain at rest."

Apt.

If his mind or body felt like being clever. Which at the moment they did not.

He was resting, and wanted to stay that way, rebelling at the thought of waking. He was warm, comfortable... relaxed and carefree.

But his own mind was latching onto the increased activity outside his room. Torchwood was becoming active as people filtered in for the day and for work. He could already smell coffee, and while he preferred tea, the smell was heavenly.

The Doctor sighed deeply as his eyes flickered open as waking also brought awareness and conscious thought and the sense of self to the Time Lord. He rubbed his face and sat up, slowly stretching out the kinks and his joints crackled as he moaned through the stretch. He then stood up, slipping the slippers onto his feet and throwing the dressing robe over his shoulders before tying the robe closed. With a shuffle he walked to the door and opened it, wincing at the sudden brightness.


Toshiko Sato didn't know what made her look up from her computers, but when she did so she couldn't help but stare at the alien man at the top of the stairs in front of what had been... until he'd been brought in... the conference room but had then been made into his sickroom. It was literally the first time he'd stepped outside of it since being here, and therefore, except for when he had first came in and then he'd been asleep, the first time she'd ever laid eyes on the Doctor.

He seemed to feel her stare and he blinked at her, then smiled a small smile. Tosh smiled back then waved to get Ianto's attention. Ianto then looked up and started, surprised. "Doctor!" he exclaimed. "Can I get you something to drink? Perhaps tea? Breakfast?"

"Tea would be wonderful, Mr. Jones," answered the Doctor. "Where's Jack?"

"Talking to Owen," answered Gwen. "I'll..."

"Don't bother, we heard," said Jack as he and Owen came from autopsy. "Doc... what do you think of Torchwood? Seeing as its your first time seeing the Hub..."

"Hmm... I like it better than the other I saw. This one seems more... I don't know... it feels more lived in. The other was too cold, lab like, for my tastes. Felt like a prison," answered the Doctor as he came down the stairs, one step at a time and with one hand cautiously on the rail.

He was clearly not too steady on his feet yet. Jack grasped his elbow and guided him to the nearby couch and helped him sit, a pillow behind his back and another one behind his head. The Doctor watched Jack fuss over him in amusement but, maybe because he didn't feel completely healthy or energetic yet, he didn't fight him over it. "Would you like tea, Doctor?" asked Ianto.

"Actually, no, I smelled coffee..."

"... No," Owen interjected. "He can have tea but absolutely no coffee. Not satisfied with your tests yet to let you have that."

The Doctor looked at Owen in shock but sighed, and said, "Tea it is. Milk, three sugar..."

Ianto looked over at Owen, who nodded his assent, then he back into autopsy. Ianto brought the Doctor his tea and the Doctor sipped it, smiled in appreciation, and then his stomach growled. Jack looked at him in surprise. "I just woke up," explained the Doctor, with a shrug.

"I'll go get him something," said Ianto. "Doctor... ah... what would you like?"

The Doctor shrugged and Owen, hearing that last bit, came up the stairs from Autopsy, looked over at the Doctor and said, "Nothing fried, no greasy crap..."

The Doctor closed his eyes with a sigh. "So much for bacon and eggs," said Ianto. "And no coffee."

"Does it even qualify as breakfast?" asked the Doctor rhetorically.

"I'll go and see if I can find something that does despite that," answered Ianto, smiling slightly.

Despite the reticence and dubious attitude, Jack had to admit that in his typical way the Doctor had overcome and won over his team. Ianto had been the most standoffish. The few who survived Canary Wharf had walked away from it with their own views as to what happened. Ianto had not come out of it unscathed - he had lost Lisa and the posh office he was used to. His life had come to a crashing halt. The man responsible, according to the official report, was none other than the Doctor. Yvonne Hartman's role wasn't underplayed, no, actually it served as a very solid warning as to why alien technology had to be treated with far more respect that it had been under her leadership.

Mind you, a certain space Titanic not crashing into Buckingham Palace had made the Queen decree that Torchwood would not actively pursue the Doctor... and he was no longer to be their 'enemy'. The new byline was that Queen Victoria, in her fear and ignorance - not that she was necessarily blamed for it as she dealt with it with what knowledge she had in the times she lived - had jumped the gun a bit in exiling him and calling him an enemy of Britain when it was so clear that long after her death he was far more Defender than enemy.

And so the Queen, this modern Queen, had decreed his "exile" over and that he be welcomed, properly, if still under the classified cloak of secrecy. To anyone's knowledge the Doctor and Queen had not met face to face nor so much as exchanged words by any other means.

It made Jack's life easier although the Doctor was still regarded with a bit of suspicion by the old guard of Torchwood.

Except at Torchwood Three where some of the 'old guard' had been won over completely by him. Oh sure, it helped that it was truly difficult to be threatened by someone who had for the past month and a half been all but practically on his deathbed, and was still quite ill and it showed. Sometimes Jack would watch the Doctor sleep and wonder if he'd ever bounce completely back or if this quiet, subdued and less-than-energetic Time Lord was the new normal.

And then Braxiatel, his elder brother, had shown up and stepped into the Doctor's shoes for him. Donna Noble, at the Doctor's prodding, had gone with him to parts unknown because both Time Lords had asserted that she needed to - a Fixed Point in time was in danger of breaking if she did not.

They had not heard from either Braxiatel or Donna since.

Jack was about to fall into a brood, but at that moment his office phone started ringing. With a sigh, Jack patted the Doctor's shoulder and he looked up from his conversation with Gwen with a bit of a nod.


When the Doctor had called Shan Shen the universe's version of Chinatown, he had not been kidding. Braxiatel did not find this kind of place his idea of paradise, but Donna appeared to be enjoying it. Not for the first time he had to wonder if this Fixed Point that was supposed to happen here had more to do with her ability to shop non-stop.

They wandered through the streets and she was more concerned with him. "Have you figured it out yet?"

"No..." he admitted, then shrugged off another merchant bound and determined to sell him yet another trinket. "It more or less has to do with you being here."

Donna turned to him. "Look, Space..."

"If you even think about calling me some half baked nickname I'll warn you that unlike my brother I won't tolerate it," he warned, his voice low. "I don't have the same patience he has for you humans."

She looked at him in surprise, her mouth forming an 'oh' of surprise, but the silence only lasted so long. "Well, I can see one thing you have in common with him."

"What is that?"

"You're both full of yourselves."

Braxiatel blinked. "What?"

"And you say that the exact same..."

"What?"

"See?"

Braxiatel shut his mouth, refusing to allow her the gratification of the third 'what' that he felt like exclaiming in indignation. He breathed while trying to get himself under control. This woman was beyond infuriating, and she was also regarding him, her eyes all but dancing, with more than a little bit of amusement. He let a breath go in a sigh. "I honestly do not see why he tolerates you in particular."

She lifted her brows, looked slightly hurt, but she hid it quickly before she turned and walked quickly into the throng, leaving him behind. He took another calming breath before moving to follow her but realized she had lost herself too quickly.

Swearing in Gallifreyan, Braxiatel idly wondered how he was going to explain to his brother how he had lost one of his human Companions.