SCARS
NINE
"Now that is something I definitely need to talk to you about," John said to her.
"What?" Wil was definitely not in a talking mood. The recent revelations concerning Orolo had simply been too much for her. She'd once – so long ago it now felt like – baldly accused The Doctor of wreaking endless despair and devastation. She'd condemned him for the death which seemed to steadfastly follow in his wake. For the pain and suffering that were his ubiquitous companions. She'd been impertinent to be sure, and in some respects so very young, especially in comparison to the venerable Time Lord, but yet, undeniably, there was a certain amount of truth in what she had said. And now that truth had come back to haunt her in ways she'd never before imagined, much less expected. It made her so very, very tired.
John was suddenly in her face. "What do you mean what? This hero crap – you've got to cut that out, Wil. You damn well know it's not true."
"Poet, explorer, hero. Jack was right, John. Jack is always right, and you know that." She was weary and heartsick, and could muster only a weak retort.
Captain John Hart smelled blood in the water, his eyes flashed, "Jack is full of shit, and you know THAT."
Wil pursed her lips, shook her head. "Over and over again you've shown it, you've proven it to me. You're the most courageous person I know, bar none."
He snorted, "For every one of those incidents I can list you ten, if not a hundred, where I've done nothing but been the consummate coward. Done nothing but been worried only for myself. Done nothing but run away as fast as possible in order to save my own sorry hide. I am only, always, thinking solely about myself and what is best for me. I'm greedy, self-serving, egotistic and self-centered. I am a mercenary, Wil. Right now I want you, body and soul, and I will do anything – anything! – to stay with you. But the moment that changes – the moment I find something or someone better, or you suddenly turn into a danger or threat to me, or simply become boring, I'll be gone. You'll never even see me leave. It's the way I've always been, the way I always will be. I'm sorry but you have to accept that. It's for your own good. It's time you give up on this hero shit."
During his tirade she'd lowered her eyes to the floor, started crying.
"I've told you all this before but you've never listened to me. I lie, I cheat, I steal. I take advantage. I manipulate. I betray. I mislead. I seduce. I entice and I delude. All you have to do is ask Jack. He'll tell you. He'll tell you the truth if you're not too afraid to hear it. Oh yes, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to tell you. I'm your worst nightmare and to be perfectly honest I can't imagine what in the living hell you're doing with me."
She raised her face, looked up at him, her eyes improbably blue, like an accident in a chemistry lab. Their intense brightness caused him to inhale sharply; nearly take a step back away from her.
"What in God's name are you doing?" she growled.
"For once I am being truthful with you."
"No. You're. Not. This is utter falsehood. Invention. Untruth. Tell me why you're doing this. Why are you hurting me?"
"Because," he said, his nails cutting deep into his palms, "it is time for you to go home."
"Bullshit."
"You don't belong out here," he spat, well past the point of no return. "You know it. I know it. You said it yourself. Study the abyss long enough, Wil, and the abyss will study you right back. You're not cut out for the abyss. Admit it. Face it. Go home, earth-girl. Like Jack always says, those who can't do, teach. So go back to teaching. Leave the hard, dirty work to those of us who have the stomach for it. Or who want to profit from it. Or who have nothing better to do with our miserable, pitiful lives. Get out of here before the abyss destroys you." He turned away from her.
"Fuck you!" Wil hissed.
"What's that?"
"I said FUCK YOU!"
"Too late for that, earth-girl," he muttered, shaking his head.
That's when she went after him. She snarled savagely, her hands, her fingers extended like claws, her teeth bared.
But John was ready for it. He pivoted, caught Wil by her wrists, tried to keep her fingernails away from his face and eyes. In this he barely succeeded. Using all his strength he got her off-balance, leveraged her around, pulled the back of her shoulders into his chest and pinned her arms painfully across her breasts.
"Good!" he murmured into her ear. "Have you stopped feeling sorry for yourself?"
She roared a feral scream and struggled like a wild animal.
"Listen to me," he pressed her body into his, his voice harsh, hard. "This anger you're feeling? It's good. It's very good. It's what you should be feeling. You should be angry at me for saying those things. And you should be angrier still about what happened to Crade, to the Orolo, to all those children you worked so hard to save, who you risked your life to save, and about Jaad and the Erasmii as well. And the countless others who've been obliterated by this horrendous abomination. What's going on here is a perversion. I don't know about you but I've had about enough of it. Screw drawing lines in the sand, it's time to fight back. It's time to double-down and take the fight to them."
He felt her body relax, if only just a bit. "Now," he half-whispered, "I'm going to let you go. You can kill me if you want to. Or you can send me away. You can do anything you like except one thing, and that one thing is wallow in self-pity. I won't have it. None of it. You're better than that."
John released her arms and took a step back.
She whirled around and slapped him so hard across the face that he saw stars.
"Don't ever do that again!" she snapped.
"Do what again?"
"Disparage yourself like that."
He couldn't help it, he laughed out loud.
"I mean it. I'm serious. I love you and if that isn't evidence enough that you're a good and decent man, Jack loves you too. And Jack may be full of bullshit on occasion but when it comes to love he doesn't ever mess around. You are the bravest person I know and nothing – nothing! – is ever going to convince me otherwise, Captain John Hart. So cut the crap, okay?"
He raised an eyebrow and nodded demurely.
She nodded back. "Good. Now, how about we go down to the surface of the planet and do some reconnaissance. I want to take a look around, see if we can learn anything else about these fucking monsters that are murdering our friends. The fucking monsters that almost killed you. Is that satisfactory?"
"Yes ma'am," John winked and saluted. He wanted to kiss her but something stopped him: her eyes were still too freaking blue.
Although the situation had diffused, Wil's heart continued to race and she felt slightly light-headed and short of breath. She knew it would take a while for her adrenalin level to go back to normal. In the meantime she might as well take advantage of the elevated energy. "Take us down, Grasshopper."
There was a soft whooshing sound and then: "Teacher, I would not advise staying on the planet's surface overlong. Radiation levels, while not unacceptable, are extremely high."
"That's okay, Grasshopper. Go ahead and closely monitor our life signs. Bring us back if you feel it is necessary. In the meantime, beam us outside, please."
They materialized atop a rocky hill, overlooking the still-smoking ruins of what once was a city.
Wil dry-swallowed. It felt as if the air was almost too thick to breathe. The sky was deep maroon, and the remnants of the broken structures below cast razor-sharp shadows across a flat plain baked to the consistency of pottery under a blood red moon. If she squinted she could just make out the glyphs on the alien buildings, symbols behind which the Orolo lay dead, murdered by something unbelievably, inconceivably evil. She looked up, blinking back the tears, and for some reason trying to hide from John the almost overwhelming emotions, although she knew in her heart that he loved her for those same feelings. Foreign stars twinkled overhead, forming unrecognizable patterns that reminded her she was so very far from home.
She heard John take a few steps away from her, but still she gazed heavenward, as if trying to somehow find in those unfamiliar constellations answers to questions that were unspeakable.
Was it the smallest sound? Or a vague premonition? Or had she actually somehow expected it? Whatever it was, it made her move faster than she ever had in her life, and before she even realized it she had her hands around the soft, warm, pulsating throat of another human being.
She knew that human being wasn't John, because she dimly heard him gasp in surprise nearby. And it was odd, because it seemed her hearing had become selective. The next thing she heard was John unsheathing a blade, but nothing else. She strained to listen or to even see – along with her discriminatory hearing, her peripheral vision had all but disappeared. She felt her heart pounding and pinpricks of sweat under her arms and down her back. For all intents and purposes time appeared to have slowed to a snail's pace.
It seemed as if she had been standing there forever, waiting for something – she wasn't sure what – to happen when she heard her captive say in a choked yet oddly familiar voice that made her skin crawl: "Wait! Don't hurt me! I'm alone and unarmed and I have something I need to tell you!"
