WHOOO. School got canceled because of the wind and power outages! YAY!
I'm working on this as best I can, but I'm liking the way it's turning out.
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Time Vortex
The Doctor leaned against the console, staring blankly into space. It was as if someone had punched a hole into his chest and pulled out both of his hearts. Amy Pond. Rory Williams. Two of the most wonderful people he'd ever met in his travels, both dead because of him. He could remember the first time he met Amelia Pond; she had been so very young, she believed in him with all her heart. Amy Pond, the girl who waited for him to come back and sweep her away in the blue box that was bigger on the inside and went everywhere in time and space.
Rory Williams. The Last Centurion, the voice of reason on the TARDIS when Amy and the Doctor got carried away. He waited too, he suffered because of the Doctor; he'd died several times, he'd been plastic. He'd paid the price for being a friend of the Doctor with his wife.
It wasn't right. It was always the best of the best that ended up dying or suffering for him in the end. He had watched secretive River Song sacrifice herself in his place in the Library. He had held brilliant Donna Noble after wiping her mind of all traces of him and their travels. He'd leaned against that wall that separated him from his Rose Tyler when she had been trapped, thought to be lost forever. He had held his wonderful Jenny after she'd taken a bullet for him. And it wasn't fair.
He was the man who had kept on running; the man who left. He'd run this time because Rory had told him to, and Rory would've physically shoved him away if he'd stayed. He hadn't wanted to run.
But he did.
-o-o-o-
Cardiff, December 2013
Heels clicked quickly on the cement, moving purposefully and smoothly as they flitted away. The shoes gleamed slightly in the light from the buildings and the lamps, the shiny black material blending into the night. The owner of the shoes was well dressed; the form fitting royal blue dress clung to her curves, a cloud of taffeta swirling from her waist to her knees. A short black sweater protected her from the cold chill of the night. A small blue bag was held at her side. Her caramel waves were swept up into a simple French twist, a few tendrils framing her face. Brown eyes scanned the night, searching curiously.
"I didn't expect to see you wandering around so late, Miss Adler." A man pushed himself out of an alley and fell into step with her, his long blue coat billowing behind him in the slight breeze. "You really shouldn't be allowed to dress like that and walk alone." He stopped her and offered his arm, giving her a smile that made most people forget exactly what they were saying.
It didn't work on her. "I can take care of myself, Captain, you surely know that." Though her tone was cold, the faint smile she offered him was warm. Looping her arm through his, she pulled him along gently. "But I thank you for your concern. What are you doing out so late? I thought you'd still be at the Hub."
"Ah. Well. Gwen is taking care of it. It's been coming along nicely, rebuilding the place after…" He trailed off, looking down. "It's nice, having Rex there too. But, God, it's not the same." A soft sigh escaped him. "You've been a real help, though, Irene, really." He grinned at her again. "You're a real asset to the team."
"Thanks, Jack. I wonder if he'd be at all proud of what I'm doing. I never told him." The way she pronounced the pronoun made it sound as if this unknown man was anything but normal, that he was important.
"You really think he's going to come back, don't you?" There was a bitter tone to Jack's voice as they walked. "He's not the type to look back, I would know. Stay on with us here, there's nothing left in London."
Irene's eyes glazed over for a moment. "Maybe," she whispered.
Jack smiled at her, patting her hand. "Let me know. Wanna go get a bite?"
"That sounds nice."
"And really, what were you doing out so late?"
A ghost of a smile flickered over her lips. "As I was told."
-o-o-o-
Luna, March 5152
The Doctor staggered through the streets, one foot falling in front of the other as he tried to find his TARDIS. One hand was clutched to his stomach, where a ghastly looking wound was slowly sapping what little strength the Time Lord had left. He'd dived in front of an energy blast to protect a friend. He knew what would happen next, he remembered. The golden light would engulf him, and quicker than he knew it he'd have a new face, a new voice…. Just all… new.
The bright nightlife of the 52nd century lit his way to the dirty alley in which his TARDIS was parked. The TARDIS, the one companion who would always be there for him.
It's always just you and her, isn't it, Doctor? A mad man and his blue box, off to see the universe. Always the two of you, when us companions are gone.
He hadn't taken on another companion after the Ponds. He couldn't. He wouldn't risk putting them through what they had gone through at the end, a gruesome death. The Doctor cared.
The Time Lord leaned on the box, his hands moving to unlock the door, staggering in and nearly falling on his face as he closed the door. The TARDIS was humming- welcoming him home, trying to soothe him. It took a great deal of energy to climb up to the console, and he panted, using it as a support. "One more trip, old girl, for old times' sake?"
With difficulty, he wrenched himself up, flicking the controls on the console once more and dematerializing the TARDIS. As he did so, he noticed it. A shimmering flicker of color.
The golden glow around his hands slowly engulfed him as the TARDIS disappeared.
-o-o-o-
Cardiff, December 2013
"As you were told," Jack mused over a cup of coffee, glancing at his friend. "That's not very…"
"Informative? I know." Irene snickered, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. "Trust me, you really don't want to know. It's all… fairly confusing, even for me." She reached into her bag and pulled out a small, dark blue envelope. Not noticing how Jack's eyes widened as they recognized the color, she continued. "He gave it to me, fairly soon after we'd met in London. Said that one day, it'd be important. Also said I wasn't allowed to open it unless it made sense to. Plus, he said to be in Cardiff today, so here I am."
Jack cleared his throat. The envelope was the perfect shade of TARDIS blue. But it was only a coincidence, right? Wrong, he thought. The Doctor had taught him that. "Well, doesn't it make sense to open it now?"
"I guess so." Sliding her finger carefully under the flap, she ripped the top, pulling out the contents of the envelope. A piece of paper, folded up small, and a shiny silver key. A frown creased her forehead as she unfolded the paper, looking it over.
Jack watched her carefully, reaching for the key and examining it. There was no doubt about it; it was a TARDIS key. But why would've Irene's friend- lover- whatever the hell he was give her one? His eyes fell on her as she tucked the paper back in the envelope and slid it back in her bag, sighing. "What was that?"
"A letter." Her tone made it evidently clear she didn't wish to discuss further. Jack huffed, pushing forward anyways.
"And what did it say?"
"That, Jack, is absolutely none of your business." She stood abruptly and took the key from him, sliding it in her bag. "I have to go."
"Wait, what?"
"I'll meet you at the Hub in the morning before I catch my ride back to London. It's good having me out there, isn't it? Two years of me keeping an eye out for the little ticks you're oh so fond of, Captain. While you take care of the Rift, I keep an eye out when we get attacked, since London seems to get attacked fairly often." Irene swooped down to peck his cheek before turning sharply and moving away, heels clacking as she walked.
Jack stared after her, amused. She was a hell of an asset to Torchwood.
-o-o-o-
The Doctor patted himself, feeling his face, checking to make sure he had all his fingers and eyes and nose and such. Disappointed to find himself yet again, not ginger, he left the Console room to change into something a tad bit warmer. By the readings he'd seen, he'd landed in Cardiff, sometime in December 2013.
It definitely called for a change of clothes. He made his way to the wardrobe, passing a mirror as he entered. It stopped him, his reflection. Black hair, pale, blue-gray eyes. It was different. But he liked it, although the tweed just didn't do with this outfit. Something a little more… sophisticated, perhaps.
A loud growl caught his attention. "Oh, I'm hungry!" He blinked at the sound of his voice. "New voice. That's different."
-o-o-o-
Irene sat in the stuffy café, muttering to herself. Why would Sherlock have told her to go here? It didn't really make any sense, and that was coming from her. With a huff, she pulled out the letter again and looked it over.
Irene (For a short moment there, I contemplated something sappy, then I thought better of it),
It is of the utmost importance that you do exactly as I tell you in this letter. Sometime soon I'm going to have to leave you and John, and please stop glaring at this paper, someone is going to think something's wrong.
First off. Share nothing in this letter with anyone else besides me. Not John, not Mycroft, not a damn person.
I need you to go to this café- here he had scribbled the address of a café, the one she was sitting at –and wait there for me. Be there no later than 8:30. I'll be there as soon as I possibly can. Don't panic if I don't recognize you; I probably won't. Give me the key. If I ask how you got it, show me the envelope. It'll clear up the confusion.
Should I ask for more information, only if I do, I need you to tell me something, Irene. I told you only once, and I hope that you remember it. But I won't write it here- you'll know exactly what to say when the moment arises.
Follow these instructions, Irene. I'll see you as soon as I can.
-SH
So here she sat, dressed up, waiting for him. Her eyes kept darting towards the door, waiting for him to make an appearance. But still, it'd been nearly twenty minutes, and the clock was ticking.
A gust of bone chilling wind swept in as someone walked through the door, taking in his surroundings quickly. A long black coat, a dark blue scarf… Irene got up swiftly, crossing over to him and throwing her arms around him, squeezing him tightly.
"You came. God, I was going to say, you were almost late! I would've murdered you. No, I really wouldn't have, I was kidding." She tugged him over to the table she'd been sitting at, smiling up at him as she sat down. "What? What's wrong, you look like you've forgotten something important again."
"Forgive me for asking, but who are you?"
Hehe. Let me know how I'm doing so far!
The thought of Irene Adler in Torchwood both enthralls and terrifies me. I'm just saying.
Next chapter: Irene follows instructions, the TARDIS is sick, and we see a few old friends...