CHAPTER TWELVE
ALL IS NOT FAIR (Part Two)
RECAP
Female of the Species
"He's dead," said Jack and there was a clatter of something dropping in the kitchen. "Our Doctor is dead."
The TARDIS hummed in comfort, but there was a mournful tone to it suddenly. "Yes. Your Doctor, the one you all knew... he died. It was a gentle, peaceful passing. And in so doing he passed on an important task and trust to me. I could have used a different name when I locked away my real one, but... I felt it honoured his memory more to not only continue his work but to continue him. Especially considering... as I said..." She tapped her head. "I remember everything that there was to know about him. I carry his memories... literally... Jack. In many ways we melded into each other and so he still lives on while I carry on the legacy."
"Who are you, though?" he asked. "According to him, everyone died on Gallifrey."
"Everyone did," she answered gently. "But there were those who never returned to Gallifrey... surely you didn't think that all Time Lords kept to one planet, especially considering our technology? No, we lived on but lived quietly and out of the way. There are so few of us now that we can barely sense each other, if at all, unless we are in the same era and general place. It's not infinite anymore."
Time Lock
"For just one second I could have sworn I felt the presence of another Time Lord," she said as he looked at her in shock. "Not another me."
"A whole other Time Lord?" Jack looked around, not that it would help.
"Just for a second, and it was clear - not long enough for any sense of familiarity - but clear enough to not be an echo. Now all I get are echoes again," she replied mournfully. "But it does tell me one thing."
Shogun
The Doctor blinked, and looked down at the kimono. It was a short-sleeve variant, worn by married woman for semi-formal situations. She supposed that this situation warranted it. The base colour was silver near the hem, but faded to a more silvery platinum white on the shoulders and upper part of the kimono. The lining was red silk. The obi was also red, with silver embroidery of the outlines of roses.
The scene depicted, in beautiful wood block style and using silk screening to achieve was a snowy moonlit garden full of roses and green trees. In the background was a howling lone silver wolf.
"The Bad Wolf," mused Jack.
Hotel California
"It's not that," she answered. "Just... sometimes... I'm not sure whose memories or feelings I am feeling... and other times I know."
"Like now?" he asked.
"Like now," she answered. "I was feeling dual feelings. His and mine, and then they were both the same but yet not. Something I remembered as me connected to something of his and the feelings on both were so very strong."
Jack blinked. "He's really, truly, you as well, isn't he?" asked Jack in wonder.
"It's... difficult to explain..." she began. "But yes, more than just memories were transferred. And lately, they've been getting stronger and more insistent."
"Any idea why?" asked Ianto as he walked up to them.
"I don't know. It's... it's like he's trying to tell me something."
The Eleventh Hour Redux
"On Gallifrey there were two brothers. One would bend time to his own ends. Mostly harmless, but still, selfish. Another would dedicate his life to helping others, although mostly he would wander. At first, he limited this to Gallifrey and with other Time Lords," explained Ianto. "This same wanderer would also, for a time, settle long enough to have a family because he wanted to. And he loved it. But something would happen and he would go back to wandering, only... he would take his granddaughter away with him. This time he would go renegade and steal a time ship, his mother's to be exact. This granddaughter would, on that same trip, name that ship the TARDIS. And that wanderer was the Doctor. This time ship, this TARDIS, used to belong to Autumn, and with Autumn I travelled. So you see, the TARDIS has known me for longer... but that's a side story. The real issue is how I know of Irving. Or I should say Braxiatel."
"Who?" asked Jack, confused.
"Autumn's elder son, and the Doctor's brother."
Jack froze in shock. "Are you saying that this Irving is Braxiatel?"
"Professor Irving Braxiatel, the librarian, the collector, and who knows what else?" explained Ianto. "I think so. Granted, it could be a coincidence and another Irving, one that is just interested in the Time Lords." The cloister bell continued to ring. "But the TARDIS, I think, agrees with my suspicion that it's the same one."
"But the Time Lords are dead," said Jack. "He said so..."
"There's a range limit on their senses, Jack," said Ianto. "There was no way to know they were all dead - not even he could be everywhere and every when, at once, to be sure. And... Braxiatel was always clever. As clever as his brother - clever is hard wired into a Time Lord."
ACT FIVE
She was drifting.
Memories that were actually hers flitted through her mind and before her eyes, but passed before she could lay hands on them to actually take note of what she saw. She remembered her childhood first. Like her grandfather, she had not always been happy with her life on Gallifrey and longed for the stars. This would lead to her eventual leaving with him.
But these were of happier times of before her mother's death and her father's gradual withdrawal from anything and everyone not in the Citadel. His distance hurt her. Grandfather had tried to fill in, but, and she loved that he tried, he could not. When he realized this he tried a different tactic and simply fell to an easy closeness that defied definition.
It had been a beautiful day, and the entire family - those on Gallifrey still - had taken to the terraced gardens outside the House. It was unusual for them to do something so mundane as picnic outside but they had done so. That day had so many generations there, and Arkytior had remembered it being some sort of reunion.
Autumn had presided the entire fete as the eldest in the House, but had politely deferred to Grandfather. By then she was using the name Autumn, even if it had been translated at that point the meaning was clear.
Autumn.
The herald of Winter.
Her memory changed to something she had often dreamed. She had never actually seen it but held the dream of it in her mind, an echo of her grandfather's memories.
The same House, now in ruins and rubble. The gardens now burnt and dust. Beyond she saw the Citadel dome cracked, and ships lay scattered around.
Bile rose and she gasped into wakefulness. She was suspended, vertically, in some sort of chamber and held aloft by a gel like fluid. She tried to gag, but her throat wouldn't respond, even though she could feel the tube down her throat and the others in her nose, her arms and other areas to prevent soiling the fluid she floated in. Opening her eyes didn't help as the gel was thick and obscured everything to the point that even the area just outside the tube was naught more than blurry shadows.
For a long moment she tried desperately to remember how she had come to be like this but she could not, and something as simple as forming her own name faded as soon as the complex syllables formed. She couldn't feel senses that should have been there and others she did have were not functioning as they should.
She couldn't help it - she panicked, trying to thrash but when she realized that something had made her leaden and unresponsive she panicked worse, only now she panicked within.
And then she saw something.
There was a hand on the glass, she could see it clearly. Someone had reached out, seeing her fear and put a hand on the glass to let her know she wasn't alone. Someone out there cared, she could feel that.
The presence was soothing, urging her rest and sleep more. There was no reason to panic, to fear. She was safe. Images of the home she remembered rose again, almost as if bidden to, and she felt as if someone held her close, and soothed her... like he had when she had woken from a bad dream when she was a child. These arms were the arms of her father and she felt, heard, and sensed his humming of the old lullaby he used to sing her when she was little.
The illusion faded but the hand did not.
She remembered who she was. Her name was Arkytior, but she never used it anymore, and had stopped using that name long ago when she had left Gallifrey with her grandfather. Later, when he was on his last incarnation and had no regenerations left... he came back for her and they had one last adventure before Arkytior held him as he finally closed his eyes for the final and last time.
In his honour... she had become the Doctor in his stead.
The hand on the glass was not his, but it was her father's. Arkytior could feel it in her hearts. She held out her hand, finally calm enough to gain enough control to do that, reaching out to him to touch the glass where his hand was.
The man was not old, but neither was he young. His eyes dispelled the illusion of youth that his face gave him. He held a hand to the glass, pressing it against the clear and cool surface like he was not touching it but instead holding what was within the chamber.
He wore simple, but extremely well made and rugged clothing meant for purpose, but also as an identifier. It was a uniform of a military that not only could span space but time itself - the Gallifreyan Space Navy, once, so long ago when the Time Lords set aside war, disbanded but in the fires of the Last Great Time War reborn.
He had a hand in that, being once part of the Celestial Intelligence Agency on Gallifrey itself, as well as ambassador to many cultures with a standing Navy of their own. He had come back to Gallifrey and presented to the Lady President of the time that Gallifrey, and the Time Lords, needed their own military. Admiral Hawke, as he was now known, had been refused over and over again until finally Romana had given him the benefit of the doubt.
That likely had more to do with the savage Leela agreeing, but he had to be fair. Leela likely had pestered Romana until she agreed to a second meeting, and then a third, and finally she allowed him to gather a few volunteers and an old TARDIS to run military manoeuvres with.
With the lemons he had been given he made more than lemonade, he honed to keen edge the minds of many once-soft, non-militarily-inclined young Time Lords, and turned the ancient TARDIS he'd been gifted into a weapons platform, a viable war ship. When the Sontarans attempted an invasion - thinking the indolent Time Lords easy pickings despite the title "Time Lord", which, in retrospect should have been warning enough - Hawke had been ready and waiting for such a challenge.
The Sontarans threw a fleet at Gallifrey.
Hawke threw his war-TARDIS, and his crew, into action and counter attacked, wiping out two of their ships before they realized what happened, killing another when they did, and then holding his own while being vastly outnumbered without having to cross their own time lines to appear to be more than one ship. Although he had been tempted to do just that his Time Lord instincts told him that combining paradox with a battle was a sure way to rip holes in time, and turned away from the temptation.
Not to mention it would not have helped his case with the High Council and Senate.
He would have died to prove his point, but the Doctor managed to get the Sontarans to leave peacefully, tails between their legs (so to speak), with the note that Time Lords made bad enemies.
It was a lesson no one would ever forget if Hawke had anything to do with it.
Hawke endured his father's lecture about negotiation, about subtly and about giving people a chance to make the right choice if only given the time to make that decision... and blithely ignored his father's hypocritical rantings with a neutral and blank face. When he finished, Hawke coolly asked, "If that will be all, sir, I must see to my ship."
"You see, Romana?" the Doctor exclaimed. "This is what I'm trying to prevent."
"What?" asked Hawke, sharply.
"The irresponsible choice of having a military! Gallifrey doesn't need it, it would give the wrong impression altogether!" shouted the Doctor, this one being partial to a velvet jacket, cravat and long light brown or blonde hair and blue eyes.
"Oh that's rich, coming from you, father." Hawke felt his temper rising. "You run away from it all the time."
"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded his father.
Just like that, the Doctor ceased being the wandering widow and became the Time Lord who was Hawke's father. The one before Patience had died, or disappeared... either way it made little difference. Romana looked from father to son and back again before she held up her hand. "Gentlemen, if you have an argument that isn't related to the matter at hand, perhaps it would be best served to not fight about it in the Presidential office."
Not that either heard her, they had gone silent and resorted to glaring at each other. "The captain has a good point - diplomacy doesn't always fix it."
"So we shoot first and ask later?" asked the Doctor. "Since when has that been an option?"
"Since we've had enemies that invaded and asked permission later, father," answered Hawke coolly. "Or did you forget that they managed to bring down the interdiction field just long enough to land a few troop drop ships on Gallifreyan soil?"
The Doctor again glared at his middle son. "I did not forget," he answered finally. "But this should not be our first option."
"And it isn't," soothed Romana. "But it is a necessary measure to defend ourselves. We've grown complacent with our place in the universe and it is not something we should have done. Hawke has shown us we still have that defensive capability."
The Doctor didn't have a response to this, but he threw up his hands in the air and sat down heavily on the couch. He then tipped his hand. "Please, Captain Hawke, continue with how you will now proceed with this."
"The Agency needs to stay, but it can no longer be our only line of defence. We need a standing military of the same size as the Agency, a Navy, with trained ground troops that can be landed when necessary, as well as fighter support for any ships we have. It's all fine and good to be able to appear and reappear, but it takes time - even if moments - and in a battle every nano-span counts," began Hawke, as he brought out a tube. "If you don't mind, Madam President..."
Romana tipped her hand to let him continue.
Hawke remembered those discussions as if they were yesterday. His recommendations had taken him from Captain to Admiral of the fleet in an Earth week. His father had dragged his feet, but finally grudgingly said he was proud of his son, even if he didn't approve of what he was doing, and that making a new anything on Gallifrey was an accomplishment in itself. Praise layered in concern. It was almost like he was young again before things had gone to hell.
Before his father had stolen his only daughter away from him, never to be seen again.
Until now.
He still wore the uniform. It was a sign of his greatest achievement and of his station and how he had made that station in life on his own without the approval or the aid of his father. He could have founded his own House had he a family to do so with. But, he had been a widower then with only one child - a daughter - who was missing thanks to her grandfather.
And so where House and Chapter sat on his shoulder, he sported the silver dragon of his House on the crimson field of the Prydonian Chapter underneath the whorl of the Seal of Rassilon, the symbol of the Time Lords and of Gallifrey. On his other arm rested his rank and braid. He wore them proudly, though Gallifrey was a shadow of itself.
Hawke turned to the other man in the room, the one who monitored Arkytior's health and vital signs from the computer. He was a man who wore a very expensive and well tailored human made business suit, silk shirt and tie in somber, but rich colours. This man had silver, close cut hair. He was reedy and thin, but this gave him a severe, serious and too cold feel to his features where he might have been quite handsome. "She is not quite ready to awaken yet, Hawke."
Hawke turned from the tank completely after his daughter fell asleep due to the lingering weight of the drugs given to her by the Atraxi to keep her sedated during her transfer to their facility. "Tell me when she is ready to be awakened, Uncle Braxiatel."
With this Hawke left the medical bay as Braxiatel watched.
The console room was lit in red while in flight. The time rotor rose and fell and the sound of the engines had a fever pitch as the old TARDIS flew through the Vortex as fast as she could, as if by pushing herself she could reach her destination even quicker.
Jack and Ianto were helpless to do anything but watch. Once Ianto had engaged the emergency protocol all the controls had locked. They could watch but the symbols that made up the Doctor's language was indecipherable. At least to them. Jack paced around the console as Ianto watched from where he sat in the library chair.
Finally the old ship settled and the engines stilled, although the console was still lit in red.
The doors opened, the meaning clear. With a sigh, Jack stepped outside, Ianto close behind. The doors to the TARDIS closed and Ianto turned and locked it, slipping his key into a pocket. The night was clear, and the stars sparkled. The reflected light from the moon was the only thing that lit up the street.
There were no streetlights, no cars. No house lights.
Jack and Ianto blinked and looked up the street one way and then the other in confusion. It was Vancouver, of that Jack had no doubt. And it was indeed a future Vancouver, if the abandoned cars and trucks were anything to judge from. Ianto came the same conclusion as they noticed the grass growing in the cracks of the pavement and the emptiness. "Future, the cars give it away. But... too abandoned... what happened here?" wondered Ianto.
Jack shook his head, but then his reflexes had his hand on his gun and it out and aimed before he had time to think. Ianto had already done the same. "Drop your weapons!" yelled the lead soldier of the group which had literally come out from nowhere.
They were dressed all in black, masks over their faces and their eyes even painted black. High powered rifles, which were still using bullets, Jack noted, were aimed at them. At least ten high powered rifles at quick count. He'd live and then, if he died, come back... but not Ianto. "All right, all right," Jack said as he lowered his gun to the ground, motioning Ianto to do the same. "My name is Jack Harkness, and I realize this will be a bit..."
"Jack?" came a voice. "Stand down! Let me through!"
Jack blinked as the uniformed men gave way to a young man who couldn't have been older than seventeen. Jack stared in shock. "What military lets a boy run it?" asked Ianto.
"Torchwood does, and if you're really Jack Harkness." The boy pointed at Jack. "You'd know that. My name is Alexander Campbell, and what the hell are you doing in my mother's TARDIS?"
ACT SIX
When she awoke, her head was much clearer, and she was no longer suspended in the fluid she had found herself in before. Very disorienting that. Did all sorts of funny things to her perception to wake up and still not be awake. Made dreams and reality mix up into something they really shouldn't mix up into.
The Doctor opened her eyes, reflecting that perhaps things were not as clear as she thought they were.
First, her eyes didn't really want to open and her body felt like lead.
Secondly, her father was sitting beside the medical bed in a chair, and he looked like he might have been sitting there awhile.
Third, the technology in the medical bay was the same as in her TARDIS, the same as the medical centres on Gallifrey, meaning it was all Gallifreyan.
"This is impossible," she murmured, moving to sit up to look around better.
Her father sat up straight and put a hand to her shoulder, gently easing her back down into the pillows. "Don't sit up," he said, and as usual... of course he would speak it, it wouldn't be something she'd hear by cheating and making the TARDIS translate what the others said into it, but it was really, truly Gallifreyan flowing from the man's lips, and no matter how mundane it was still beautiful... "Cryo sleep and Time Lords have never been known to mix well."
It actually took her a moment to switch her thoughts from English after so many years (centuries?) of not speaking anything else back to Gallifreyan. "Father?"
He nodded, and he adjusted his uniform. The only thing that was out of place was a new loop of braid, and perhaps another medal, and the fact that the uniform actually appeared to be less fabric and more armoured, meant to be worn in battle and not just for show anymore. It seemed less ceremonial and more hard, brutal, edges. It suited him far more than the robes ever could. "How?"
Her father sighed. "You honestly didn't think you and your grandfather could have been the only Time Lords away from Gallifrey, did you? The Daleks, and the other Time Lords forgot about a few small families, or even just the individuals, that either refused or were otherwise unable to return to Gallifrey. Not to mention an entire fleet of TARDISes and other warships that were fighting elsewhere when the Moment was used and wiped our home world away." There was an infinite amount of bitterness there, the Doctor winced as she heard it. An old disagreement left to fester. "And so I survived, and so did a few others of our family, House and Chapter. Considering the wanderer trait in our family, you shouldn't be so surprised. It didn't start, nor did it end, with the oh so wonderful vaulted 'Doctor'."
Oh yes, more than a little bitterness there. "Father..." began Susan.
He shook himself out of it, forcing a smile. "I'm sorry, here you are after so long and all I can do is be angry. My Arkytior, come home after wandering for so long. I've missed you," he said.
Jack and Ianto stared in shock. Whatever they had been expecting this wasn't it. Alexander Campbell of Torchwood Vancouver was a kid and yet here he was leading an entire hub on his own? It didn't add up. Jack looked from one person to the next, but noticed, as the masks came off, that Director Campbell was the indeed the youngest.
It was a bit of a shock. Jack wasn't sure he'd allow himself to follow a boy around, let alone let him lead a Torchwood branch. But here it was. "Where is the Doctor?" asked Alex again.
"How do you know one of us isn't?" asked Ianto.
"One; the original, male, Doctor died. There's now a female one, which, if I can remind you, is my mother," answered Alex. "Two, I know you, Jack. And you know me. But right now you don't, which... wait... suddenly it makes sense."
"He never took one before," said a lieutenant, relaxing a bit.
Alex apparently agreed. "You're Jack Harkness of Torchwood Three in Cardiff. Now, you'd have known that neither of you are the Doctor because you're the Director in Cardiff and we're usually in contact. You should know that... but you don't. So, either you're not Jack or you're an earlier one."
"Earlier one, I suspect," said Ianto. "May I ask how someone so young ends up leading his own branch of Torchwood?"
"I'm not as young as I look," answered Alex, rolling his eyes a bit. "I'm one hundred and three Earth years old and have been a part of Torchwood since I was in my late eighties. As I said the new Doctor is my mother - I'm not altogether human, if you've missed it."
Jack's eyes went wide and he found himself looking the young Time Lord up and down. Then he whistled. "You don't look dead spot on any of the Doctor's I've met but you've definitely got his gene code, kid."
"Jack..." Alex drawled out and Jack felt his skin crawl, Ten had always drawled his name like that when annoyed with him too.
In fact, and Jack found himself grinning. Alex looked like a young... very young... and teenage Eleven now that he'd seen what Eleven looked like, but with much darker hair, less chin and Nine's cool blue eyes. Jack grew serious, and he said, "Your mother sent us... she said you'd be able to help us to help her."
Alex made a whirling motion with his hand in the air, one that clearly said, "Let's roll," and then he turned back to them. "Come with me. The TARDIS will be safe where she is and we are not going far. She knew where to bring you - you're on Torchwood's back step, actually."
Once inside, showered, dressed again in drier clothes and with tea in front of them, they had more to talk about. Alex was attentive and focused - everything a Director of Torchwood ought to be - as well as decisive. He listened to what happened in Leadworth with great interest, only asking questions at certain points to clarify or get a better picture of what had happened. Especially considering that it had to be from both Ianto and Jack's different perspectives.
Finally, as the tale came to a close, Alex had grown ever more silent and somber. Ianto finished, "And the Atraxi took her, not even letting her finish her sentence to me, but she managed clear mention of you."
Alex leaned back and sighed, looking at Jack as he did so. "I suspected something was up when our Jack said he would be going fishing. He never has done that before."
Days passed and the Doctor grew in strength again as the bad reaction to the cryonic drugs and physically traumatic intubation healed. She was still sore and tender in spots, but she was now at least strong enough to walk around a bit, even if it was a bit of a shuffle.
The door opened and her father strode in, took in the fact that she was standing on her own and nodded his approval. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Better than two days ago," she answered.
"Good, come with me," he held out his arm and she slid her arm into it. He patted her hand in the crook of his arm with the other, pleased that she had accepted his gesture. "If you feel like you need to rest, don't hesitate to tell me."
She nodded and he led her out. "We started with a few TARDISes, mostly the ones built for war, and then we found a few ships made by other races out there. First, we built a station to house us, and then we moved on when it became obvious it would not meet our needs. We ran into Braxiatel on that planetoid everyone still insists on calling the Braxiatel Collection and he allowed us some leeway with it."
"Is that where we are now?" she asked.
"Yes, we are," he answered, smiling. "Uncle Braxiatel hasn't been exactly pleased with us crowding him, but he's learned to live with it. I suspect he missed us too, really."
"You mean he missed us as much as Grandfather missed us, and died never knowing his own family still lived," she stated, not coldly, but the intent was there. "How could you let him believe he was the last, father?"
Hawke stopped dead in his tracks and for a long moment she could feel the rigid tenseness as he fought to control the rising anger from the mere mention of his father. "I realize you think him to be wonderful," said Hawke finally. "But you have to see this from my perspective. He stole you from us and then, when the other Time Lords caught up to him you were nowhere to be found; they all thought you were dead. I never believed it but when he wouldn't tell us... I'm sorry Arkytior, it had to be done."
"You regenerated your own father with your own two hands and then let the other Time Lords exile him to Earth," finished the Doctor. "You flew the TARDIS back to earth and shattered the controls so that he couldn't leave, and you left him in that heath for UNIT to hopefully find, but in truth you likely didn't care either way if he breathed his last there or not. Or spent his eternity and all his lives in some human lab being experimented on and you knew it could happen that way - especially given that time period!"
Hawke inclined his head, not angry at her, but not denying a word of it. He knew it to be true and he wasn't going to deny it. His father had gotten his just reward and had been lucky that the clueless apes had no idea what he was, and what they wanted to think he was their limited minds wouldn't let them believe. Just as well UNIT had swept in when they did, but in reality Hawke couldn't have cared less at that point. His father had ceased being his father when he had stolen Arkytior and the TARDIS. "I do not have to justify myself - he broke our laws and he was lucky he did not receive his final death - you well know this Arkytioralarnalifanyare."
The Doctor winced by sheer reflex at hearing the full formal form of her personal name, even as she sighed inwardly and almost leaned into the comfort of hearing it correctly after so long. Not even her Grandfather had used the full formal form of his name, let alone hers. After leaving Gallifrey she had never heard it again. Gallifreyan names, at least the first part - the one heard most often as a personal name - were formed by naming a child, then taking part of the parents names as the middle and second middle, and the last part was always the House name. One name not only announced to others who the Gallifreyan was but also part of their genealogy. A full formal name consisted of title, if such applied (it was rare they did not), their given name followed by, and usually rather redundantly but sometimes not, the name of the House they were currently affiliated with and then their Chapter.
Her father was quite proud of the fact that he was Ciryatur Farasonerilaifanyare e'Fanyarenosse e'Prydon; which literally meant Admiral Hawk, son of a word that defied translation, but possibly referred to her grandfather's name, which could have been referring to the fields in Old Gallifreyan, another that referred to Patience, and of course the proper translation of their House "Ancient Skies", which had always been mangled into Lungbarrow, followed by, of course, the fact that he was currently of House Fanyare, followed by the fact that he was of the Prydonian Chapter. It was all very complex like that of the written form of their language. It had not always been his name, but like her grandfather, it had become his name. His birth name, the one given to him by the Doctor and Patience had been loosely translated as Alyanerethfanyare, or Alyan.
But that was neither here nor there, and had little to do with the fact that her father had felt the need to address her by her formal name. "I don't deny that he broke them," she began. "But he was justified in doing so. I certainly do not regret leaving, will you also regenerate me?"
For a long moment Hawke didn't quite know what to say. In truth, no, he could not regenerate his own child but that did not mean he would not if it was necessary. The Doctor took this silence for her answer. "You would."
He continued walking and she walked with him. They met a few people in the wide hallway, and some of them... most of them... were human. They were tourists, she realized. What are tourists doing... then she knew where she was and she almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.
Where else would she be?
The planetoid, not far from the edges of the Human Empire, and ironically New Earth, known only as the Braxiatel Collection. Uncle Irving's 'collection' was renowned throughout the known human empire as well as the alien others as the definitive article of historical art collections. According to others, Irving Braxiatel was an extremely rich, and semi-eccentric, collector. So much so that he had his own museum that was, to a certain extent, open to the public for a fee. Other areas were strictly off limits and part of his private collection. There had been rumours of the rarity and value within those halls.
They had no idea.
The collection, once you passed out of the human and the run of the mill alien became that of Gallifrey - a collection of artefacts, art and other items from the Time Lord's own home planet. Only on Gallifrey itself could there be a more comprehensive collection.
Braxiatel was like that - he was a collector. Nothing was beneath him and absolutely nothing beyond his reach should he decide his collection would not be complete without it.
"Who else has survived?" asked the Doctor, and then she couldn't help but let some of the hope she felt slip through into her voice. "The Atraxi showed me you and Great-Grandmother Autumn. Did... did she survive?"
Hawke stopped momentarily again, didn't answer, and then continued. But she saw the set of his jaw change. "Oh," murmured the Doctor, as she realized that no... Autumn had not.
The Atraxi had shown the elder's face in hopes of gaining a strong reaction, and they got it. Or, Autumn had been here and she escaped. The Doctor sincerely hoped it was the latter.
Hawke stopped in front of a set of double doors, which he then opened. He motioned for the Doctor to precede him and she did so. Hawke closed the doors behind him and followed her into the huge study. It was made to look like an old English manor study, complete with wood bookshelves laden with leather bound books, heavy drapes on the tall windows, the oversized and intricately carved fireplace... and the large, hardwood desk behind which sat another Time Lord who was poring over a set of maps laid out on the desk's surface. He looked up and let the maps roll with a decisive hiss of paper. "Arkytioralarnalifanyare, it is lovely to see you up and around again... and I must say very wonderful to see you after so many centuries of us being apart," he said simply.
"Grand-Uncle Braxiatel," greeted the Doctor. "I'm glad to see you still alive as well, but I must ask, have you given up on collecting art that you now collect the Time Lords themselves?"
For a long moment Braxiatel was silent and then he leaned back and laughed. "Oh, Arkytioralarnalifanyare, you have grown up so much. It was to be expected, I suppose. The Atraxi tell me they found you on Earth, in the company of two men who represent something called Torchwood. I have done much research on that organization, from its inception - which was quite fascinating, by the way - to what it is now. Still quite interesting. I must wonder how an alien, known as an alien, would get past the 'if it's alien it's ours' mode of operation."
"Jack and Ianto are friends," she stated simply. "Jack is from the 51st century, Ianto of the 21st. They travel with me now. Our landing there was unintended, but given the outcome, rather fortuitous since it has brought me back into the company of my family. However, I would appreciate going back."
"How do you travel with them?" asked Hawke in confusion. "The Atraxi said they saw no ships or any sign of ships in the upper atmosphere or on their scans... and only your grandfather had the TARDIS, not you."
"I have the TARDIS now," she corrected, looking at them both, and then she sighed. "I'm sorry it has to be me to say this... Grandfather is dead. He died... he died a regeneration ago to me and approximately five years ago in my personal time line. I have been travelling in his TARDIS, but it is now mine... and I do not use the name Arkytior anymore. I use the name Grandfather took when you stripped him of his - I am the Doctor now."
She had to admit she could not have expected either of their reactions. First, there was a silence in the room. If not for the crackling of the fire in the fireplace, the old cliche about hearing a pin drop would have been accurate as both of them went silent, staring at her in shock and absolute horror.
And then they reacted. Her father's reaction she expected, now that she knew he had regenerated the Second Doctor into the Third by his own hands. Hawke was livid, and his demeanour held no regret in his father's own death. "You did what?" shouted Hawke. "Of all the stupid things to do Arky..."
"The Doctor," she interjected.
Her father took another breath, about to launch into a tirade when Braxiatel, after he had finally stopped laughing, held up his hand and said, "Enough Hawke. We should have seen this coming - after all, had the reports not said that strangely there was the sighting of a female Doctor and we were both confused on how it could be? Well, here's our answer."
"Where is Autumn?" asked the Doctor.
Braxiatel sighed. "House arrest, with no access to any sonic devices or other means of escape, but treated as someone of her station should be otherwise, despite her actions." He stood up, walked around the desk, looked at Hawke who gave way as he walked over to the Doctor, then leaned against the desk. "She is my mother, after all. The big question is whether you will share this house arrest or if you will agree to our terms - as the Doctor, I am sure you are aware of the suspicions we might have on how... agreeable... you may not be."
"I should have known there was a catch to this," she stated flatly.
The door opened and they turned. The Doctor felt her jaw drop at the latest surprise, and she recoiled, backing into Braxiatel's desk in shock. She turned to Braxiatel and Hawke. "You know who he is, right?"
"Of course they do, Doctor," stated the Valeyard, still very much looking like Ten. "Who do you think told them where you'd be?"
ACT SEVEN
Ianto was relieved when Alex turned to his team and said, "I'm taking some personal time."
That meant they were going home. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy running around the universe and time and space with the Doctor and Jack, but when she had been taken out from under his very nose he had been more than a little alarmed and worried that it meant he wouldn't... couldn't... go home.
Not that, if he had truly felt like it, he could not have waited out his time in Leadworth before heading back to Cardiff, but it was better not only be able to go home but know that she would have a rescue mounted.
And Autumn... oh God. He could admit he still felt something for Autumn. It had not been so long since Jack had unsuccessfully attempted to ret-con her, and when she had awoke from the sedating effect she left. Now they would likely be going after both as where the Doctor was so too would Autumn be.
That was enough to make him stick around.
His feelings felt like a mess. He loved Jack, lusted after him even, and had come to terms with being bisexual. However, while it had been only weeks since the 456 incident to Ianto it had been decades to Jack... long enough that while Jack still loved him, and still felt something for him, his heart had moved on as it had to.
Irony would be that where it had moved on to was no other than the Doctor herself.
Ianto sighed. Maybe once both the Doctor and Autumn were found they could sort this mess out. Evidently, Autumn's own time line was pushed forward by centuries, not were months or years. Long enough that she had watched her children grow into adults, and have his own children... grandchildren... and... a great-grandchild in the form of Alex.
He wondered if she had also moved on.
Jack was also deep in thought as he watched Alex run around the console in the familiar dance of piloting the TARDIS alone. It was only after seeing this young Time Lord that he had a feeling he had not felt since the 456 wash over him and the horrible thing he had done hit him again. The Doctor would have likely told him to find another way.
Hell, he could have told her and she could have helped him find another way. But, as she said, it was a mess of fixed and flux points in time. But, seeing Alex he wondered if his own grandson would have grown up like this young man.
He shook himself out of it as the TARDIS settled into a full landing, and the light from the rotor dimmed. Alex looked at them both. "We're back in 2013. I didn't understand it until now, but our Jack told us that Ianto Jones came back, with you, in 2013 after everyone thought him dead. Granted, seeing him step out of the TARDIS explained everything in the end, but still..."
Ianto nodded and went to the doors, turning and asking, "Where are we?"
"The Hub, rebuilt after your 456 incident. Should be right to the right of the cog door," answered Alex.
Ianto took a breath, then took hold of the doors and pulled them open and stepped out and looked around the Hub that he hadn't seen in weeks, but to them he had been gone for three bloody years. He saw Gwen stand up, her hand going to her mouth in shock, and then Martha came up from autopsy, and she also stood still in shock. There were others he didn't know at all, but, wait... two he did. The other three he didn't. He recognized the two blonde women as Jackie and Rose Tyler, but the black man, the balding white man in a very nice suit and the boy that looked no older than Alex did he didn't. There was also another dark haired man who looked at him in surprise that Ianto didn't know.
"I see our team has grown," said Ianto clearly as he stepped out further, as professional as he always had been.
"Ianto?" asked Gwen after she finally found her voice. "What? How... but... you're dead!" Moments later she made the connection. "Oh my God, I'm going to kiss her."
Jack came out, grinning. "I'd pay to see that. Girl on girl... mmmm... oh..." Jack changed tracks as he walked forward and Alex followed him out, turning and locking the door behind him. "Everyone, this is Ianto Jones... Ianto, you remember Gwen and Martha, that's Pete Tyler, his wife Jackie and their children Rose and Tim..."
"It's Tony you bloody git!" shouted Jackie.
"Right... Tony... that's Mickey Smith, Martha's husband... it's complicated... and you remember... there the hell is Rhys anyway?" asked Jack.
"Out getting coffee," answered Gwen.
"Typical."
"Out getting coffee?" asked Ianto in shock.
"No one made it like you, sweetheart," stated Jack. "Anyway, continuing... and that's Alonso Frame... again, it's complicated..." Jack took another breath. "Alex, that's Gwen and Martha."
"I've heard all about them." Alex smiled at everyone. "Hello."
"Everyone, you remember Ianto or you heard about him," Jack said, slapping Ianto on the shoulder and letting him go be hugged by Gwen. "Everyone, this is Alexander Campbell, the... future... Director of Torchwood Vancouver. By future I mean 22nd Century."
"Actually, more like 23rd, my mother met my father in the 22nd century, but enough time has passed that it's actually the 23rd where we just came from," corrected Alex.
"Right, 23rd century. Alex is... erm... how the heck do I explain you?"
"Right, well," began Alex. "That's complicated, to borrow your term. But, I am the son of Susan Foreman-Campbell and David Campbell... Susan is the female 'Doctor' you are familiar with, and her grandfather is the original Doctor who flew this old thing."
Alex tapped the TARDIS. "In other words I'm the Doctor's great-grandson and, as Jack said, the future Director of Torchwood Vancouver. I am also, as you've likely figured, half-human, but completely Time Lord... as in fully trained by my mother to handle that heritage even if I did not have the privilege of going through the actual Time Lord Academy on Gallifrey."
For a long moment no one said anything as they absorbed this. "So..." asked Pete. "Where's the Doctor?"
"Remember back in 2010 when the Atraxi invaded looking for something called Prisoner Zero?" asked Jack, and he saw those who had been around in this universe for that nod. "Long story short, we were there, and the Atraxi took the Doctor. No, she wasn't Prisoner Zero, but they were also looking for survivors of the Time War for some sort of collector. In exchange for learning the name of this collector, she agreed to go with them willingly. They told her, and she told us to chase after her."
"You mean to tell us that the Doctor has been in captivity for three years while you three went to get Alex?" asked Martha in shock. "Why didn't you go after her?"
"Because they won't be able to alone," answered Alex. "The TARDIS, on an emergency protocol, was programmed to go on one last trip, with them or without them, to come back to me. As soon as it materialized and they came out and no sign of my mother I knew something wasn't right, and thankfully they were able to fill me in. I know where we need to go but it will not be easy. I brought them both home. I know what I must do. This collector wants Time Lords, I'll give him a Time Lord but I won't be going easily."
Jack turned around in shock. "What do you mean 'you'?"
The Valeyard led the Doctor through the corridors and up to the second floor, through more corridors until they reached a guarded door. With a nod, the guards opened the door and the Valeyard pushed the Doctor through into the sitting room within. The woman within stood up, her hands flying to her mouth at the sight of them both.
The Doctor stopped fighting and stared. She had the strangest feeling of being two people at once. One was a son relieved and moved to tears at the sight of his mother safe and unharmed. The other was herself, and, while she had not been as close to this woman as her grandfather had been, she too was relieved to see that she lived.
Autumn rushed over and hugged them both as the door closed. "Oh, my children. My beautiful children." She sniffled through tears as well as she stepped back to look at them both. "I know you both come from me but your Time Lines are... strange. I know you but yet they seem overwritten."
"Great-grandmother..." started the Doctor. "Mother."
Autumn looked at the Doctor in confusion, lifting her chin to look into the Doctor's eyes. "What have you done, my son?"
It was then that the Doctor felt the strangest sensation, as if she split into two. One was herself, the other was... him... "She held me as I died," answered the Doctor through her. "With no Matrix and outside of the TARDIS I could not go anywhere and she held on to me... became me..."
The Doctor blinked and the two feelings settled again. "Oh Rassilon, what have I allowed to happen?" she wondered.
She was aware of someone holding her, and then guiding her to sit down. She sat heavily into an overstuffed and comfortable chair. "What in the name of Rassilon did you let him do to you?" demanded the Valeyard, grasping her shoulders. "What did you do?"
"You know what I did," she answered, looking him in the eyes.
He took a breath and breathed out, staring at her in the eyes and she saw the look of horror and sorrow in the brown eyes. "He never should have gone to you... if he hadn't he would have simply dissipated into the stars... like he should have... not done this to you," he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Susan... so sorry..."
"You called me Susan," said the Doctor, surprised, then she put a hand to his face. "You're still you, aren't you? Beneath the anger and everything there is still you."
He swallowed thickly and looked away. "I believe I am owed an explanation," said Autumn from behind them. "You clearly know something I do not."
"Forgive me, Mother..." said the Valeyard as he stood up. "I should have told you upon entering who I am."
"I'm sorry, I know I had two sons, and one is dead and the other owns the very gilded cage I am kept in, I do not know you," she stated.
"Great-Grandmother, he is the Valeyard," answered the Doctor, and Autumn took two very large, horrified, steps back.
"What is this?" she demanded.
"I am complicated," he admitted.
"One Christmas, when a race called the Sycorax invaded Earth, your younger son, the one known as the Doctor, fought their leader in a sword fight. The Sycorax cut off his right hand, and it fell to the Earth below. It was found and kept by an organization known as Torchwood and their leader, of that location, Jack Harkness," answered the Doctor.
Autumn turned to them. "I know who he is."
"What?" asked the Valeyard, shocked. "But..."
"I was... younger then... so much younger then. I went to Earth, and I stayed for awhile and relished my freedom. This was after I was... abandoned... and my two sons were in the Academy. I had no one left... so I left in a TARDIS and came to Earth. I met a young human man by the name of Ianto and he was... he was wonderful," she said, lost in the memories. "And then something happened that his colleague Mr. Harkness felt was wrong. He attempted to use a substance known as ret-con on me. So I left and never went back."
"Do you miss Ianto?" asked the Doctor.
"Yes, sometimes."
The Valeyard snorted, and Autumn pointed to him. "Still doesn't explain who he is and how the Valeyard who was always an enemy of my son is now family."
"That hand would eventually be returned to the Doctor," answered the Valeyard. "He'd keep the thing in the console room, not exactly sure what to do with it."
"A few years later, he would be shot by a Dalek, come close to regenerating... so close that he did, but he used what energy he needed to heal, but sent the rest to the hand and so did not change, nor spend an actual regeneration," answered the Doctor finally. "The hand would be touched by a human woman, and would cause a two-way biological meta-crisis. Out of the hand came him, and the human woman..."
Neither of them finished, knowing how it ended and Autumn didn't need to know that. Autumn looked from the Valeyard to the Doctor and back again. "I see," she said simply. "But I don't see how you would think that makes you my son."
"How can I not be?" demanded the Valeyard. "I am him. I came from him... he made me!"
"Like a child would... and that is what I see here. You are his son, and the son of this human woman, even if she didn't carry you." Autumn sat down. "But it doesn't make you any less her child as well. You are the result of two parents who had equal responsibility for what you are. I am sorry, I am not your mother. It would be more accurate to call me your grandmother, however."
For a long moment the Valeyard was speechless, and then, he calmed and nodded as he realized her point. "Quite right. I am sorry for lashing out at you, Grandmother."
"Now, what happened to cause a generational confusion in you?" Autumn turned her attention to the Doctor. "How are you my son and also my great-grandchild?"
"I can explain that," said the Valeyard. "She took his name and his TARDIS and is continuing his Legacy. More than that she also has his memories, he used her like he would the Matrix when he died."
Autumn nodded, and then the Doctor sighed. "So, that would make him my Uncle then?"
Hawke entered the study and regarded his Uncle as he closed the door. Braxiatel looked up, sighed in long suffering patience, and leaned back in his chair. "Are the experiments showing any results yet?" asked Hawke.
"You remind me of someone else I grew up with," said Braxiatel with mild regret. "And they did not turn out well."
"I am not my father!" shouted Hawke angrily, whirling back around to face his Uncle.
"I have to agree with you there." Braxiatel's tone was now mildly sharp, and Hawke realized it wasn't the Doctor that Braxiatel was referring to but someone else.
"Stop dancing around the subject, Uncle, and fill me in."
"Very well, if you insist."
ACT EIGHT
The lights flickered and there was even some moments when they went out entirely, although they came back up just as quickly. The Doctor looked from Autumn to the Valeyard and asked, "Is this normal?"
Neither answered although they did look at each other. She suddenly got the feeling that it wasn't normal and they both knew what was going on. This was interesting because it told her that Autumn was not doing anything about it, unless whatever had resulted in her house arrest stemmed from that, and the Valeyard not being there meant he also knew, but was not privy to it.
Which was strange as a mere hour ago it had appeared that he was from what had happened in the study... or had it? Braxiatel and Hawke had let him take her to Autumn. But now she thought that perhaps they had ordered him to take her to Autumn to get him out their way. "What is going on?" asked the Doctor again.
"All in good time," said the Valeyard.
"Ask your father or Braxiatel - it is their pet project," answered Autumn, the disgust in her voice evident.
"What?" asked the Doctor, confused. "What could cause that?"
The Valeyard sighed, and then wilted under the weight of Autumn's glare. "Hawke and Braxiatel are experimenting on creating soldiers; through intensive training and hypno-training on genetically compatible species. They'd been attempting to create a soldier race that will not cost Time Lord lives."
The Doctor recoiled and sat down in disbelief. "What race?"
"Humans," answered Autumn sharply. "Human lives instead of Time Lord. Humanity being the most genetically adaptable and compatible species out there. Who else could be so malleable?"
She felt sort of proud that she managed to keep herself from throwing up for so long, but eventually she had no choice but to make a fast dash to the nearest bin to empty the contents of her stomach. That done, she shoved it aside with a wrinkled nose. "What would bring my father to even consider such a thing?"
The Valeyard stood up, a very dark look in his eyes. The Doctor was surprised to see it. It was the same look her grandfather was known for when he encountered something that angered him. Not in a petulant or vicious manner, but rocked him to his moral core and angered him that way. The look that said he didn't like what he was seeing but at the moment he was unable to do anything about what was happening. "The war unhinged him, I think," said the Valeyard finally. "For him the war between the Time Lords and the Daleks has not yet ended... and perhaps... never will. At least it won't end with Hawke as the nominal leader of the Time Lords. Hawke is an Admiral, militant and unbending. To his mind the war is not over and can never be over until every single last Dalek is gone and hang the consequences."
"What about Braxiatel? Why is he going along with this?" asked the Doctor.
"I can't speak for him," said the Valeyard. "In truth, I don't know why he is, but I suspect that Hawke has Uncle Brax by his Time Lord balls somehow." He ignored the aghast look from Autumn and the Doctor both at his choice of words. "Let's not mention that Hawke was voted as the interim leader of what is left of Gallifrey out of fear and the misguided belief that he can protect them all."
"Once Hawke took over, any who spoke against him found themselves under house arrest," said Autumn. "I was not the first, but when he silenced me I fear he silenced others who might have had a chance against him. After all, if he will silence his own grandmother, and regenerate his father, what limit does he have?"
The Doctor sighed, looking from one to the other and back again. "He's not encountered me yet. I won't let this happen."
"I only hope you can do something," said Autumn. "Else we are all doomed to actually fade into nothing."
While they kept looking at Alex with open doubt given his age, or the apparent lack thereof, they had had to listen to him in the fact that he at least knew more about the Time Lords from his mother than they did. He had been raised knowing what it was to be a Time Lord where they had not. "We have to know where they took her in the first place," pointed out Pete. "Where is the Atraxi home world?"
"In the grand scheme of things, not far. At least not far by TARDIS, even this old thing." He patted the console. "And I think we need to take someone there to find this out, however, we have one TARDIS, and even if we had another one, we only have one person to pilot - me."
"So, let's go to the Atraxi and demand they tell us where she is," said Jackie. "I won't stand by knowing that poor dear, after all she's done to help us, be held prisoner by some aliens."
"Jacks, technically..." started Mickey.
"Oh shut it," snapped Jackie. "Alien or no, she's family... and so are you, you poor dear. You're too young to be leadin' some outfit like this. What was she thinkin'?"
"That I am one hundred and three and capable of making my decisions, no matter how young I look," answered Alex. "Gallifreyans reach the age of majority at ninety-five, finish the Academy at one hundred and eight and become Time Lords if they qualified to enter it in the first place, and are often married by one hundred and twenty-five, if their Kithriarch has anything to say about it."
"Their what?" asked a confused Mickey.
"A Kithriarch is the head of the House, and therefore the patriarch, or matriarch if female, of all family units in that House. It's usually the eldest of the House. Gallifreyan society is... was... somewhat caste based. It was split into Chapters, which held the Houses. Houses were extended family, not just the immediate family. The Kithriarch led the entire family in its familial affairs, although private matters were always just that unless they became public," explained Alex. "From what my mother told me, she, and her grandfather, were born of the House known as Fanyare, which was often...mangled... into Lungbarrow by some translations but was actually closer... well... as close as you can get anyway from Gallifreyan into English... to Ancient Skies, although that's still not quite it either."
"Pronounce that again, please?" asked Rose.
"Fah - nehyah - ray," enunciated Alex carefully, and then he said it quicker, but still spitting into the syllables. "Fa-nya-re. Whenever there is a 'nya' or 'rya' that syllable is always separate, not that you'll hear it again, but it's one way to tell our language from any other. Anyway, now is not the time for a language lesson. We should be figuring out who is going with me, since you have all decided that I am not going alone."
"Can you blame us?" asked Gwen. "Your mother would not approve of that. Why do you think she sent Jack and Ianto to you if not to ask for information from you and what they should do next."
"Us?" asked Ianto.
"Well, who else?" stated Gwen.
"While we know we all have to go in the TARDIS, those of us going," said Pete as he presided over the meeting again. "We should decided who is one who's team. I suggest Jack, Ianto and Alex each lead a team. One will stay on the TARDIS, and I suggest that be Alex as he can pilot the TARDIS."
"To a point, so can I," said Jack. "So perhaps I should also be on his team so he has back-up."
"I agree," said Alex. "The TARDIS, while possible to pilot by myself, is easier and more steady with at least three pilots. Does anyone else have any experience flying her?"
Rose tentatively put up her hand. "I learned from... from the Valeyard when he was still..." she trailed off, cleared her throat and then her voice was stronger. "Anyway, I learned a few things. Enough to serve as a third."
"Great, that's the TARDIS taken care of." Pete nodded. "Now, field teams and search teams. No, Tony, you're not going."
"But Dad!"
"No buts!" chided Jackie. "You're staying wit' me and your father."
"Now Jacks, I was thinking of..."
"No! I did not get you back to have to go swanning off in the TARDIS like my Rose did wit' the Doctor." Jackie was adamant. "You're staying with us. Someone will need to keep this place runnin'. No offense Gwen, but you've a family now with that sweet little one."
"None taken," stated Gwen. "I agree with you on that. Pete, we need you here. You have more experience running a Torchwood than I do, and without Jack to run it you're the best qualified to do so."
Pete sighed a long suffering sigh. "Oh all right, I'm staying! Let me suggest the field team consist of Ianto, which for some reason I get the feeling he has more experience dealing with Time Lords than..."
"Autumn was the Doctor's mother."
"WHAT?" exclaimed Gwen. "You mean the Doctor as in the original... or the granddaughter?"
"He means the original," answered Alex. "Autumn, if we're thinking the same one here, is my... let me think... she is my great-great grandmother."
"But how?" asked Gwen. "She was so young when she accidentally brought you that coffee... this was right before Jack came back and... before Owen was killed... it doesn't make any sense..."
"Time Lord," said Jack and Ianto at once, then Ianto finished. "It's complicated."
There were more than a few surprised faces, and then Martha started to laugh. "Last of the Time Lords, my arse."
In a large subterranean chamber that didn't look like it was other than the lack of windows to the outside, Hawke watched in satisfaction as he walked between the rows and rows of training humans. The reflexes of the latest batch was almost on par with the target that he was aiming for, their physical abilities tweaked to the point where they were no longer wholly human as much as they looked completely human.
No, now they were closer to being Gallifreyan, although not Time Lord. They never could be a Time Lord, and that suited Hawke just fine.
He looked up to the glassed in observation room where Braxiatel watched, his expression completely and totally neutral. The Valeyard stood just behind him, and his expression was also carefully guarded.
Hawke allowed a small, satisfied smile before he walked up to the observation room and stood with them. "The chances of a paradox happening is abnormally large if this gets out of hand," stated Braxiatel.
Hawke nodded his understanding. "We're Time Lords - time belongs to us."
The Valeyard looked up and over at Braxiatel, noticing that Braxiatel looked as shaken by the statement. Braxiatel looked down at the training humans, and took a breath before releasing it slowly and schooling his expression back to normal again.
The shadowed corridor flared to sudden life, and then faded again as the flash of light subsided. A figure darted to the side, hiding in the shadows and the corner, looking around to make sure that they had not been seen.
The figure flipped the Vortex Manipulator's display closed so that even the glow disappeared before slipping out into the garden, unseen and silent as a set of guards walked by.
TO BE CONCLUDED
in
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LOVE AND WAR (Part Three)
The explosive season finale - The Time Lord faction known as the Hidden, led by the original Doctor's son, known as Admiral Hawke, and the new Doctor and her Companions come head to head with the returning threat in the form of the Daleks as the Time War begins to bleed out of the Time Lock.
A/N: One last episode and the season is done, except for the special afterwards. Sorry about how long it's taking to get these out, especially since the May Day special won't be for May Day anymore but for Midsummer in June.