Author's note - sorry for the long delay in posting this. It's been ready to go for ages, but things just kept getting in the way. Also, many, many thanks to whoever nominated this fic for the Wicked Awards Best Crossover! Totally appreciated!
Part 4 – Should Olde Acquaintance Be Forgot….
(By Booster)
Martha led 'the Doctor' and 'John Smith' outside the building to a large grassy, open area. "Time remaining till incursion?" she snapped at a nearby UNIT soldier.
"Two minutes 57 maam!"
Martha nodded, then turned to the others. "One moment, Doctor – I just need to confirm these readings. Don't worry, I'll be back before it happens." And she walked away to join a group of scientists off to the side.
"Doc?" said John quietly, "If she's your friend and all, even if she is from a parallel universe, why aren't we telling her that I'm not the Doctor?"
The Doctor wore a puzzled frown, and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Because I might not be right after all. Everything here is exactly the same as I know it from previous visits to UNIT, down to the very people. And then there's the TARDIS..."
John raised an eyebrow when the Doctor didn't continue. "Doc? Freckles?"
"Hmmm? Oh yes, the TARDIS is perfectly fine. Absolutely nothing wrong with her at all. But the last time we were on a parallel earth, she was dying, John. Couldn't absorb the energy from around her. Which makes me think that we are where we should be... but doesn't explain Martha."
"Speaking of the devil..." said John, as Martha rejoined them. "And what precisely is meant to be happening any moment now?"
Martha smiled. "Oh, I know how much you like your little cat-out-of-bag moments, Doctor. Don't spoil mine."
Before them, the air seemed to ripple momentarily. An expectant air spread around the waiting and watching people. UNIT soldiers clicked the safeties off their weapons, scientists bent over their equipment. John and the Doctor shared a puzzled glance.
And then the space in front of them was suddenly full of Daleks and Cybermen materialising from nowhere.
Their guns blazed, explosions boomed and the dying started.
Clark grabbed the shaking Dawn by the shoulders and shook her firmly. "Calm down," he ordered her firmly, "It'th not your fault! Thith ith obviously what Martha wanth the Doctor to thort out, which means it'th a pre-exithing condition!"
Dawn took in a couple of deep, rasping breaths, and looked desperately at Clark. "Not me? Not again?" she said in a small voice.
"No," said Clark firmly, and hugged her hard. "I don't know what happened to you before, but thith is nothing to do with you."
A small, strained voice emerged from near Clark's chest. "Thank you, Clark... um, getting difficult to breathe here.."
Clark grinned and released her. Dawn looked a lot more calmer now, though he pretended not to see her wipe a tear away. "Sorry," she eventually said, "Bad flashback to when my sister died."
She straightened herself up, and adjusted herself. "Right!" she declared firmly, "Things to do, people to see, Daleks and Cybermen to sort out."
She looked around the alien property room again, and her eye fell on a crate. "Aha! That should come in helpful."
Clark followed her over there, puzzled as to what Dawn was going to do this time. His eyes widened as she started pulling out items of familiar looking clothing, but it was the raspberry beret that had him backing away.
"I am not wearing one of thothe crimeth againtht fathion. No."
"Come on, Clark... just think about it. In UNIT uniform, we can go anywhere – particularly when you throw in my new sonic screwdriver and this psychic paper," Dawn pleaded.
Clark sighed. He had a bad feeling about this. "...Can I at leatht keep my cowboy hat on?"
John popped his head up from behind the UNIT soldier he'd jumped behind when the shooting started. For all the noise, there had been a distinct lack of... actual explosions and bullets flying near him. Not that he was all that much of an expert, mind you.
The Doctor and Martha were both regarding him with raised eyebrows. John coughed and sauntered out. "Sorry 'bout that. Looks like this new regeneration's a bit more allergic to gunfire than I'd realised. Hard-wired reflexes, don't you know?"
The Doctor glared. Martha's face cleared right up though, which was all John really cared about. He looked straight ahead at the fight between the Daleks and Cybermen which was drawing to its final conclusion. As the last remaining Cyberman attempted to delete a Dalek's eyestalk, John's practised eye noticed that for all of the explosions that had been occuring, everyone else was still unhurt and attending to their tasks. None of the surrounding area had been damaged either.
"Temporal phantoms," said the Doctor thoughtfully, his glasses on and peering intently at the battle. "Not only are they slightly out of synch with the timeline, but I'm guessing from the way you checked the time, that they're on a repeating, predictable loop."
"Very good, Mr Smith!" said Martha, with a surprised look on her face. "Every two hours, thirteen minutes. Not bad at all for a school teacher from last century."
The Doctor froze. "Ah..."
"There was a bit of an 'accident'," said John smoothly, putting in the air quotes. "John here got exposed to the TARDIS databanks mentally and got a copy of most of them stuck in his head. Explains all his mental problems as well. Kinda like having a walking database with me."
Martha seemed to be regarding 'John Smith' with a strange sort of hunger in her eyes. "Is that so..." she breathed.
Somewhere nearby, in a hidden control room, a hand moved across a console. The console itself was made of a strange, gnarled, fibrous material, almost like it had been grown instead of constructed. The room was filled with a high pitched, monotonous electronic gurgling.
The orange hand stroked a nodule and the picture on the viewscreen closed in for a greater view of 'John Smith'.
"Intriguing," the owner of the claw-like hand hissed, "This Smith could be very useful. Take him to the machinery at once."
Martha nodded, as if to herself. "There's something else you should see now, Doctor," she said. "Shall we go?"