The Darkest Hour

by ann no aku

The Doctor takes Rory and Amy out to celebrate their upcoming nuptials, only to come across an old friend and a new enemy.

The Darkest Hour

ann no aku

Plot: The Doctor takes Rory and Amy out to celebrate their upcoming nuptials, only to come across an old friend and a new enemy.

Notes: Takes place after Series V Episode Vampires of Venice, and post Children of Earth.

Author's Note: This is in direct response to Children of Earth. I couldn't get over what Jack did and just how messed up that mini-series was. I don't think the Doctor would take well to his friend's crime, and so this story was written. It's dark and maybe a little OOC for the Doctor.

"I just don't understand why we had to leave so quickly," complained Amy, plopping down tiredly on the beige couch in the console room.

"Spanish flu," answered Rory, sighing as he joined his fiancée.

"I didn't realize there was such a rampant outbreak," the Doctor said, trying to keep his voice light. Thoughts about the Spanish Flu recently started to bother him, and he couldn't figure out why. "Sorry, Pond, no Dali today. Perhaps I'll introduce you to Van Gogh next time," he offered, flashing the pair a brief grin.

"Well, I still want my sangria. You did take us to Spain to celebrate our engagement, after all." Amy stared at the Doctor, her arms crossed firmly over her chest.

"Er, right," squeaked the Doctor. "Yes, of course. Let me punch in the coordinates."

"You really don't-," began Rory, stopping once he saw Amy's face. He sighed audibly again, slouching into the leather next to her. "No vampires. No monsters."

"No adventures," finished the Doctor, agreeing with him much to their surprise.

"Right," Rory nodded. "Just an ordinary bar."

"Got the perfect place," the Doctor exclaimed, tapping away excitedly at the controls. "The best space bar this side of the galaxy. They make perfect banana daiquiris—I gave them the recipe. Don't like bananas much anymore, but -!"

"Space bar? Great," groaned Rory. "How ordinary."

"Really, Mr. Pond, they'll be no adventures here. They have extremely strict rules and parking regulations. It's all quite unadventurous, I assure you. I was just there not too long ago," he added, recalling why he had been there.

Then it hit him why thinking about the Spanish Flu bothered him so much. And he almost didn't want to go, but he had promised Amy. The Doctor owed her.

Amy scowled at the pair, keeping her thoughts to herself. She wanted an adventure—a lifetime and more of them! But she knew that Rory didn't like adventures, and if she were honest with herself, she was ready for just a normal trip to a pub to relax. From the sudden darkness that shadowed the Doctor's face, she could tell that he was, too. Although, Amy had never seen him drink, so what good was a pub for him?

"Do you even drink?" she asked, joining the Doctor and assisting with the controls.

"Of course! Dehydration seems an awfully painful way to go," he replied, not really answering her question at all. "Hang on, Ponds! Geronimo!"

DWDWDWDWDW

"That is the best sangria," slurred Amy, pausing only to try and grasp at her thoughts. It was difficult with all the loud chatter in the bar. She had caught snippets of conversation, and it seemed that the Doctor was right about there being strict rules. It wasn't common that people were arrested, but when they were, people and aliens alike couldn't stop yammering on about it.

"You've said that already," reminded Rory, opening his eyes only to locate his drink. "How can they get better?" He held his head in his hand, silently wishing that music instead of a buzz of hushed conversation were ringing through his ears.

The Doctor studied the pair, amused. "You two are drunk already! And you've only had," he counted on his fingers for a moment, "three each?"

"They must put some space age liquor in these things. They are strong," Amy insisted, glaring at the Doctor. "You had one, didn't you?"

"He spit it back in his glass and forced me to drink it," Rory reminded. "He said it was customary by the people of . . .some planet or another."

"Well, they have a pick-me-up, er, pick-you-up? Anyway, if you need one, they have those. I'll just dash to the little Timelord's room, shall I?"

Both of their heads perked up. Neither of them had ever known the Doctor to use the bathroom in the short time they had known him, and curiosity won over their condition, instantly sobering them. Rory looked to his fiancée, his eyebrows raised. They fought with their barstools as they chased him down the hall, their seats hitting the floor with a loud clatter. The incessant gossip stopped long enough to watch as the three fled the bar towards a dark hall.

"Wait up!" called Rory. "Amy needs to break the seal!"

"Sure, blame me, why don't you? Aren't you a man like he is? You're the one who can follow him in there! Make sure he uses a-!"

Stopping in his tracks, the Doctor turned around to stare the red faced pair. He bit back a frown. "From what I understand in human culture, evacuating bodily waste is a private matter."

"Then you shouldn't have told us. Besides, I'm a nurse. I see it all the time." He was holding on to the wall for support, catching his breath. Rory felt, rather than saw, Amy's eyes on him. "Oh, and I, er, need to go, too. Break the seal."

"Break the what?"

"You know," Amy started, making a circular gesture with her hands. "Break the seal."

"No. Now, if you two will be so kind as to let me go in peace-!" He spun on his heels again, moving ahead of them.

"It means that if you pee once when drunk, then you have to pee all night! Break the seal!" shouted Amy after him, dragging Rory with her as they stumbled in the poorly lit corridor. "Really, if there were a toilet down here, you'd think it would be in a brighter area and not so far from the bar!"

"Ponds!" hissed the Doctor, turning to stare at the pair furiously. "Quiet!"

The halted abruptly, nearly bumping into him. The toe of Rory's trainer was stuck on Amy's heel, pulling her shoe down. She didn't seem to notice, and instead whispered, "You're not really using the restroom, are you?"

"I'm trying to find a private one. My people are a bit, er, different, you know."

Yet they couldn't help but to notice how he didn't meet their eyes and that he was twirling his sonic screwdriver in his hand as though he may suddenly need it. "Well, so are humans. And we aren't comfortable sharing a toilet with those Slitheen. They smell," Amy stated stubbornly, her hands on her hips. "We are going with you."

The Doctor rolled his eyes and continued, no longer making conversation. He was pleased that they followed in suit and asked no more questions, and he noted that they were also stepping with care, too. Had he also been careful not to tread with heavy, eager feet?

They reached the end of the passage where there was a locked door. Sonicking it open, the threesome stole inside after a quick furtive glance around. It was even darker in this hallway, with motion detector lights that shined in little compartments as they passed.

It wasn't until they had walked for what felt like another silent three minutes that they came to the first little room that had something in it. Someone.

And it was then that they realized they were staring inside of a holding cell.

DWDWDWDWDW

"You are in every nightmare I've ever had."

Jack's arms hurt. They were above his head in very tight cuffs, pressing so hard he could feel his pulse against the cool metal. His ankles, too, were shackled, but since he could stretch out his legs (albeit only a little) he managed to take some of the pain off them. I really managed to get into trouble this time, he thought with a grimace. It wasn't even worth it.

He had been in the cramped cell for three days, and Jack saw no way out. His time vortex manipulator was out of reach of his nose (a way he had activated it in other trying situations). No one knew where he was, and he had made no effort to contact anyone. After what had happened . . .He swallowed hard, which was difficult considering the collar that was nearly choking him.

"Alright, children, follow me. An adventure."

His own words haunted him, and in that prison, they seemed to echo off the walls. It was impossible to escape the very thing he had been running from. It caught up with him in that small room.

"Just come with Uncle Jack."

"Keep going, you don't want to be left out, do you?"

"Walk into the light. Do as I say."

And those young, trusting children, children who wouldn't be missed, looked up at him with their large eyes, mesmerized by the sight in front of them. With the eerie, bright lights of the alien craft, each child was given the look of an angel.

The sacrifice of angels, he thought bitterly, hating himself.

If the captain were honest with himself, he knew that one day he would have to pay for what he had done, for having given five children to the 456 in exchange for medical cures (The Spanish flu, he was reminded). To sacrifice the needs of the few for the needs of the many, he had told himself. Yet he had never thought it would be like how it was—the number they were asking for, what they did to them and why, and what happened to the world as a result.

He was to blame.

"We need someone who doesn't care."

Was that him? Someone who didn't care? But it didn't matter. What was the worst that could happen to him? He couldn't die, no matter how hard he tried.

And the children weren't hurt.

"We do not harm the children. They feel no pain. They live long beyond their years."

Jack felt sick trying to justify his sin, his crime. He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing back the bile that was rising in his throat as his stomach clenched with lack of food.

While the 456 didn't directly cause any bodily harm, Jack did. He killed his grandson. Steven . . . The boy screamed, seizing under the force of his own voice as blood trickled from his eyes, his nose.

Recalling the memory, what he had to do, had him violently pulling at his shackled wrists, trying desperately to yank them free from the wall. But even if he were to free his arms from above, the cuffs wouldn't come off. Not unless he were to die.

And he so desperately wanted to die. For all he had done.

The light above him flickered to life, burning his sealed eyes. Had the executioner finally come? Harkness opened them and looked lazily up at the three figures standing at his cell, only an invisible shield separating them.

He hated how his heart nearly burst in his chest at the sight of the tall, thin man. Regeneration or not, Jack knew he'd always be able to tell the Doctor apart from any other man. He wasn't sure how he felt about the whole 'nerdy professor' thing, but the bow tie was maybe something he could work with.

"Doctor," he rasped, his voice dry from lack of water.

"Captain," came the reply, his voice heavy with a darkness he had heard only a handful of times before, but never towards him.

The two others with him (Jack assumed they were human by their fashion, New companions.) looked at the Doctor, both reeking of alcohol. "Do you two know each other or something?" slurred Rory, desperately trying to ignore the leering stare this 'Captain' was giving him.

"Yes."

"No."

They answered at the same time, Jack looking mildly offended at the Doctor's denial. The two men glanced at each other, and the Doctor answered again. "Yes, but in all fairness, Jack doesn't know me."

"But you do know him?" Amy inquired, supporting her weight on her fiancé, who was now leaning on the wall to escape being looked at.

"I thought I did." He stared hard at the shackled captain. "The Jack I know wouldn't do what he did. Steal an alien medical ship? Yes. Create a highly contagious mask virus?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "What's this about, Doctor? Are you going to be cryptic or release me?" But he knew what the Doctor meant. He needed to hear it, to be forgiven for his crimes.

"Oh, I'm not going to free you, Captain," he said, much to his companions' surprise. "I-I can't. Those chains are deadlock sealed." The Doctor, standing in the shadows of the corridor, continued. "I'm talking about the 456, Jack."

Despite the poor lighting, Harkness's rescuers had no trouble seeing his perfectly bronzed skin pale under the weight of the Doctor's words. And even though it was his fault, he felt a sudden surge of anger towards the Timelord. What was it Gwen had said in her video?

"There's one thing I always meant to ask Jack. Back in the old days, I wanted to know about that doctor of his, the man who appears out of nowhere and saves the world. Except, sometimes, he doesn't. All those times in history when there was no sign of him, I wanted to know why not. But I don't need to ask anymore. I know the answer now. Sometimes the Doctor must look at this planet and turn away in shame."

Yes, it wasn't the Doctor's sin to atone for (he had enough of those, from what he had heard), but the world had been on its knees. And the Doctor he knew wouldn't have just stood by and let children be abducted; he wouldn't have had to use a child to stop the 456. Steven wouldn't have had to die. Alice wouldn't have to hate him.

He had acted out of desperation. One life for the lives of all the children of Earth.

"Y-You weren't there, Doctor. We needed you. Earth needed you, and you weren't there," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What's the 456?" asked Amy, the tension in the chilly hall snapping her back to sobriety.

"You know, those aliens," Rory began, his words still slightly slurred. "The ones who wanted those kids . . ." he couldn't bring himself to finish.

"He was behind that?" she demanded, gesturing to the alluring, chained man.

The Captain tugged at his chains as he leaned closer to get a better look at the trio. "Please, Doctor. Let me die. I deserve it."

"For what?" he asked, looking at him intently. "For the crime you've been imprisoned for or the one you deserve to die for?"

"Someone's coming," Amy announced, pointing towards the end of the hall where lights were shining down the pathway.

"My executioner."

"After what you did, Jack," started the Doctor, but he was interrupted by an angry looking alien approaching them.

Amy and Rory's mouths dropped at the sight of the rhinoceros headed guard, their eyes never once noticing the large gun in his grip.

"Fo sho lo mo toe doe! You can't be here," the Judoon grunted, pointing his weapon at them.

The Doctor fished out his psychic paper and presented it. "Change of plans. I'm going to be taking this prisoner."

The Judoon narrowed his eyes at him. "He is to be executed on orders of the Queen of Inalia VII and The Shadow Proclamation."

At this, the Doctor raised an eyebrow to Jack, to which he chuckled despite the seriousness of the situation. "She caught me with her husband. Right after I had left her bedroom."

"Was it worth it?"

"Not in the least bit. Alonso was much better. Thanks for him, by the way."

The Doctor nodded, turning to the guard. "I'll take your gun, if you don't mind. I have an execution to perform."

Reluctantly, the Judoon released his hold on the weapon after giving the psychic paper another look, not seeing the horrified expressions on the others' faces. "Give me his head when you are through."

"If there is a head left when I am through," he said, letting his words trail. At the cold stare of the rhino guard, the Doctor continued. "I like to make my executions very thorough. It's there, listed in my credentials."

Again, the Judoon studied the blank paper, grunting in annoyance. "He cannot leave the cell without dying."

"Doctor-," started Amy, immediately shutting up once he gave her a dark glare she had never seen him wear before.

"No, he does not need to see a doctor before being executed, thank you," the Doctor replied, still staring at the Judoon.

Amy and Rory turned to each other, afraid to look at Jack who looked uneasy. Once the larger of the two aliens relinquished control to the other, the Judoon left, mumbling something in his deep voice about being too busy to handle a simple execution. After he was out of earshot, they felt it was safe to speak again.

"I thought you hate guns, Doctor. At least, the old you did."

"Doctor, you can't-!" pleaded Rory. "Isn't he a friend of yours?"

"I don't know if friends of mine would do what he did, Rory. Give away children to aliens to sate their drug habits," he spat, shoving Rory's hands away from the controls that opened the cell.

But he had moved them willingly upon hearing Jack's crime. He felt sick at the thought of it. "Drugs?"

"Are you going to kill me, then?"

"You do deserve it, Jack. Your grandson . . .Steven, wasn't it?"

Captain Harkness kicked angrily at the side of his small prison, venom staining his beautiful face. "You. Weren't. There!" he growled, red with rage.

Rory and Amy could only watch in horror and confusion, their mouths agape. How could he have a grandson, unless he were alien, too? And the Doctor was going to shoot him for what? What did he do to his grandson?

Despite deserving to be properly punished by the Doctor for what he had done, Jack couldn't accept the Doctor killing him, not with a gun. Somehow, it made him just as bad, no longer the good guy. He wasn't the Doctor he knew, not anymore. He just wanted, needed, his forgiveness, to let him now that he wasn't as bad as his crimes.

Even if the Doctor were trying to save him, to free him, there was another way. He didn't have to kill him.

The human looked up at the Doctor, their eyes meeting. The invisible shield between them flickered as it was deactivated, and the Doctor raised the gun. It was pointed directly at his heart, which was beating so hard that Jack was surprised it wasn't trying to escape his chest in a last effort to escape the fate that was going to befall upon him.

Rory held Amy as the Doctor fired a single plasma shot, instantly killing Captain Jack Harkness. His body became limp, and the cuffs that bound him fell to the ground with heavy clinks. Amy swallowed back a hard sob. If the Doctor, her doctor, had to kill someone, then it was for a good reason. . . wasn't it? This Captain Jack Harkness had committed horrible crimes, he had traded human children . . .

"Quick!" he ordered, pointing to Jack. "Help me carry his body! Grab his things from in there—the time vortex manipulator and his jacket. Come on, quick!"

"You're not really going to give that rhino guy his head, are you?" demanded Amy, asking what Rory found he couldn't (for his voice no longer was working).

"Just help me! Quickly, now! Both of you!"

The three of them grunted as they lifted the heavy, dead man. They dragged him down the hall, moving as fast as their legs could move them.

"If he moves, shoot him again, will you?" asked the Doctor, still holding the large weapon.

"What-?"

"My hearts can only take," he swallowed. "Anyway, let's move along. We need to get him on the TARDIS before a Judoon sees him and we must cut off his head."

"Why? He's already dead!" reminded Rory, reluctantly dragging the corpse, which he could have sworn was groping his butt. All his training as a nurse never prepared him for having to transport any dead bodies.

They managed to make it almost all the way to the ship, it just in sight, when the Captain's body gave a lurch as he took in a large intake of breath. Amy and Rory dropped their hold on him in sheer terror, Amy giving a yelp and covering her face with her hands.

"What the hell?" she cried, beside herself with fear. Rory was white and holding himself between his legs as though he were about to wet himself.

Slumping under the weight of Jack, the Doctor also released him, stepping back as the Captain gasped for air. He clutched at his chest, seemingly still able to feel where he was shot.

By far, it was the most painful death he had endured and it had nothing to do with the manner in which he had died. He stared wide-eyed at the sight of the TARDIS before him, wishing desperately for the pull he once had towards it. It was no longer a vision of hope, and at that moment, Jack knew that he could no longer be close to the Doctor. Not this one. Not the one who pulled the trigger.

"There was another way, Doctor," he gasped, winking at Rory. Jack had to keep it light, make it seem like nothing when on the inside his blood screamed 'betrayal'. "You didn't have to shoot me. I would have died just exiting the cell. Those cuffs had trackers on them that would have exploded the moment I would have stepped out."

"It was the least messy way to release you, Jack," argued the Doctor, not quite meeting his gaze.

"The Judoon could have done it. Anyone but you, Doctor." He straightened up, taking his proffered items from the couple. "I don't like this new you—this you who can kill a friend without thinking twice. If you really wanted to punish me, then why didn't you kill me when we last met? Why did you tell me about Alonso?"

"I was dying, Jack. I was saying goodbye."

"Well, this is me now saying goodbye, Doctor. I finally see what Davros was talking about. Is anyone your friend until they do something the Doctor God doesn't like? Where was my mercy, huh? Where was my choice that you offer those who have done far worse than I have?"

"Jack," cut in the Doctor, almost forgetting for a moment that they weren't alone but rather had an audience. "Nothing is worse killing your own family. That is my crime, too. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, Jack. This is your darkest hour." He looked to his companions, taking in their horrified faces. "Amy, Rory?"

Without so much as a word, they followed the Timelord into the ship, seeing the Doctor in a new light and fearing for the human who gave children to alien drug addicts and killed his own grandson. It was difficult to determine who was in the right and who was in the wrong.

Captain Jack Harkness watched as the ship disappeared with the sound of rushing air, still shaking from the whole ordeal. He felt empty as he realized that he had just lost a friend, and gained a new enemy.