Author's Notes - The drama continues in this chapter. The Doctor snaps under pressure and Melissa delivers under difficult circumstances. And, considering where I leave the fate of a few of the characters, I'll try to update again before Friday, but I can't make any promises.
Thanks to Way Worse Than Scottish and dwatlaskrhtcm for their reviews. It's nice to know what people think of this story.
Melissa and the Arcadian Elder didn't witness the Hub's destruction. But, they had been close enough to feel the ground shake beneath them. The seer shared her look of horror as she abruptly changed direction and sped away. She knew of one other stronghold that might keep the Emissary safe.
Opening her eyes as the car finally stopped, Melissa peered into the inky darkness. "This is St. Cadoc's."
"Yes, but it is deserted now. We can hide here until it is safe."
As another contraction gripped her, the exhausted woman wondered if it wouldn't be better to stay in the car. "It can't be very sanitary," she joked weakly.
"It is abandoned, and there is no reason for anyone to come here. My kinsmen killed the few who dared."
Still reeling from the attack on her bond mates and the destruction of Torchwood, Melissa nodded listlessly. Passively, she let the girl pull her inside the deconsecrated church. She was exhausted, and simply hoped for someplace comfortable to lie down.
There was nothing but cold, hard stone. The sad church had long ago been stripped bare. The seer helped her to the floor near the remains of the altar. Breaking out in a cold sweat, she rested between contractions.
Her reprieve lasted only an hour. When she heard the sound of a TARDIS materializing in the sanctuary, she was momentarily filled with hope. But she saw not a comforting blue police box, but a sterile, cylindrical Battle TARDIS. Forcing herself to stand, she hid in an alcove.
When she saw the ship's pilot, she almost ran out of her hiding place, but the Arcadian stopped her. "You must stay hidden," she quietly warned.
"But it's Romana," she whispered just as quietly.
"Precisely."
When the president began to call for her to come out in a singsong voice, she finally understood. No wonder they'd been so confused. This had never been about politics. It had always been extremely personal.
"Come out, come out wherever you are! This is supposed to be a game of chase, not hide and seek! Arcadians are too predictable to play hide and seek."
"If you can make it to her ship, can you pilot it?"
"Yes, a Battle TARDIS is programmed to obey any Time Lord."
"Then, when I say run, run for the ship."
She almost argued that she couldn't run, but she knew this was her one chance. As Romana searched each pew, the seer waited until her back was turned away from them, and then hissed, "Run!"
It might have worked had the next contraction not been so much more painful. Bending over, the pregnant Time Lord gasped as she fought to stay on her feet. With incredibly fast reflexes, Romana turned towards her and fired.
The Arcadian was faster. She put herself in front of the dart's path. It hit her in the chest and she crumpled to the floor.
Seeing her protector fall, Melissa hobbled towards the time ship as quickly as she could. It wasn't quite fast enough. Romana grabbed her by the neck before she could close the door. The two women struggled, a mother's desperation giving Melissa a temporary advantage.
Wrenching herself free, she put the console between herself and her opponent. Irate, Romana pulled out her pistol and fired, but the shots hit the time rotor instead of her intended target. All of a sudden, the ship lurched as it activated an emergency protocol formulated during the Time War.
Hanging on as the TARDIS spun out of control, Melissa watched Romana warily. For the moment, there was too much turbulence for her to fire her weapon, but she knew the instant the ship landed, the Doctor's former lover would do her best to kill her. Her only hope was to get through the doors and find some help.
That was a dangerous prospect considering that the Battle TARDIS had jumped to a random destination. But, it was better odds that hiding in the ship. Before Romana could stand, Melissa launched herself at the door, drawing enough energy from her frail body in order to give herself a fair burst of speed. By some miracle, she made it outside without getting shot.
Even more remarkable, the atmosphere wasn't toxic. Although, they'd definitely landed on the seedy side of whatever planet they were one. No matter how futuristic the small buildings that stretched out in front of her appeared, the amount of refuse stacked up against them all but screamed intentional neglect. Picking a direction at random, she began to weave in and around the dark streets, the better to dodge the bullets that Romana kept firing in her general direction.
The few people who witnessed her flight did so circumspectly, without any offers of assistance. Their indifference told her more than she wished to know. At least she blended in well enough. Almost everyone she'd seen was humanoid, although she'd seen a few more exotic races as well.
Stopping a moment to catch her breath, she listened for the sound of pursuit, but the alley in which she hid was deathly quiet. Before she could move onwards, her face screwed up in pain against another contraction, and she knew she wouldn't be able to walk much farther. Her hearts were pounding in her chest and she was short of breath. Worse, without the Doctor and Jack to provide emotional support, she was slipping into despair. Urgently, she sought shelter in one of the abandoned hovels before she decided it wasn't worth the effort to hide.
The structure she'd chosen was as long as a cargo container on Earth and twice as wide. It was divided in two by an opaque plastic barrier that came halfway up the wall, and in the back there were several mattresses that looked like they had seen too much use. Other than that, it was distressingly empty.
She didn't touch the mattresses; they were no doubt filthy. Arduously maneuvering herself to the ground, she crouched behind the interior wall until the pain of labor forced her to lie down on the trash strewn floor. As soon as she did, her water broke. Faced with the prospect of delivering her children alone in a disused shack, she broke down and gave into despair.
Romana had been stupefied when the Emissary had managed to run out the TARDIS. After their fight and the bumpy ride, she wouldn't have expected the fat cow to have the ability to run anywhere. Cursing herself for underestimating her prey, the enraged Time Lord paused long enough to retrieve a particle disrupter from the well stocked armory before stalking outside.
Anyone unwary enough not to flee from her met the business end of her disrupter. She asked the same question each time. "Have you seen a pregnant woman running around?"
Most times, she was disappointed with the answers, but randomly killing a few passersby convinced the ragged onlookers of her determination. After an hour or so, she began to get positive results. She knew she'd found her prize when she walked into one of the decrepit building and heard quiet sobbing.
Carefully avoiding anything underfoot that might give her position away, Romana crept to the four foot wall that divided the small space. Peeking over, she smirked in triumph. This was going to be fun. "I'll give you to the count of ten. Run, run as fast as you can. One, two . . . . "
Melissa had no strength left to stand. Awkwardly, she scrambled to get away, but her left heart chose that moment to give out. She felt a sharp pain in her chest, and her vision temporarily blackened.
Romana had counted to five when Melissa collapsed in front of her. Thinking it some trick, she approached warily and tentatively kicked the pregnant Time Lord in the stomach. She groaned weakly but didn't move.
Feeling somewhat cheated of her victory, the unhinged Time Lord stood over the Emissary and considered how to best kill her. When the Time Agent flashed into existence behind her, she spun around, her mouth dropping open in shock.
"YOU!"
Quickly taking in the situation, the agent didn't hesitate. He drew his sonic blaster and efficiently caused the woman to disappear—permanently. Stepping around the wall, he went to check on her intended victim.
"Shit."
She was not the person he had hoped her to be.
He put his crushing disappointment temporarily aside to scan the grossly pregnant woman with his wrist strap. Four heartbeats—hell, the poor woman was carrying triplets. Having faked a single pregnancy for one of his undercover ops, he could well imagine how difficult that must be. The hormone injections alone had made him miserable.
He watched as she feebly wrapped her hands around her stomach as an intense contraction brought her partially to awareness. She wasn't just pregnant; she was in labor. He wondered how the day could get any worse. Crouching beside her, he idly stroked her cheek. Aside from the condition of her bare feet, she was too well cared for to belong on this planet, let alone this area of the city. However she had gotten to Bleak, it had not been voluntarily.
"Oh, sweetheart, someone's done a number on you."
Melissa had to fight for awareness, and when she managed it, she knew she wasn't quite coherent. She'd been moved, and was now lying on a mattress rather than on the dirty floor. The mattress had been encased in some sort of spray that had hardened into a spongy barrier between her body and the filth that was no doubt still present on the bedding. Her clothes had been removed, and she was covered in an extremely thin but surprisingly warm blanket.
Dimly, she was aware that her contractions were growing in intensity. The thought should have terrified her, but the most she could manage was a resigned stoicism. She was going to die. Her babies were going to die. Jack was most likely dead, and the Doctor would no doubt be driven insane.
Finally wondering why Romana hadn't killed her, she reluctantly opened her eyes. Not quite sure if she was dreaming or hallucinating, she blearily put a hand on her rescuer's arm. "Jack?"
"Sorry, sweetheart. I think you're a little out of it." Then, he flashed her a confident smile, hoping to put her at ease. "But Jack is one lucky man."
She cried silently. Hallucinating Jack was just too much. She couldn't even do it properly. He was wearing the midnight blue uniform of the Time Agency rather than his greatcoat. Squeezing her eyes shut, she wanted nothing more than to escape into her mind, but her hallucination wouldn't let her.
Lightly tapping her face, the Time Agent worried that she was in worse shape than he thought. "Hey, stay awake. Was that woman your jailor? Were you taken by one of the slaver syndicates?"
"Go away," she mumbled, trying and failing to grab his hand. "Can't even hallucinate you right, Jack. I'm dying. Go away."
In that instant, she was gripped by a contraction strong enough to pull her to a greater awareness. Whimpering, she clutched her stomach, convinced that she and her children were about to die alone.
Her hallucination stubbornly wouldn't leave her, however. Pulling out a small thermos, he put it to her mouth. "Here, doll, drink this."
The feel of the refreshingly cool liquid was pure bliss. It was sweet and salty and had a hint of ginger in the mix. Swallowing greedily, she forced her eyes open. Whatever it was, it helped clear her head. Her hallucination held her in his arms, although this time she was positive that he was quite real.
"Jack."
"How are you feeling, honey?"
With a strangled sob, she confessed, "Everything's wrong. I can't even sense you. I know you were hurt, but I'm so messed up I can't feel you now. I don't want to die here, Jack. Please don't let me die."
Telepath, the agent realized with a start, and obviously delirious. When exactly was he? There were very few human telepaths, in any era. She must have been quite the prize for the slavers.
He did his best to keep her calm. "You're going to be fine, sweetheart. Do you know how far apart the contractions are?"
Morosely, she shook her head, too overwhelmed to notice his odd behavior. "Where's the Doctor?"
"Was there a doctor here?"
Feebly, she gripped his arm. "He promised everything would be alright. Where is he?"
"He'll be here," he promised with the ease of a practiced liar.
When the pain made her cry out soon afterwards, he gently encouraged her while rubbing her back. The scars he'd discovered when undressing her were thick and ropey, attesting to a lifetime of abuse. But she looked up at him with such an expression of trust and devotion that he felt a momentary pang of jealousy for a man he would never meet. She obviously cared for this Jack greatly.
Briefly closing his eyes, he realized he'd already made his decision. If the Time Agency caught him here, there'd be hell to pay. But, he couldn't abandon the poor woman now, not after saving her from the slaver. While she was weak enough that she'd most likely die giving birth, she didn't deserve to die alone. No one did.
The Doctor woke slowly to a pounding headache. The psychic shock he'd experienced as Melissa's fear and Jack's pain had crashed together had knocked him out for upwards of six hours. It took him a few minutes to get his bearings, but when he did, he jolted upright.
"Hold up, Mister. Give yourself a few minutes for the pain to subside."
Peering at Martha, he did no such thing. "Jack?" he demanded tersely.
She briefly looked away, and his anxiety ratcheted upwards. "He's in surgery. I haven't been told anything else."
Seeing the devastation on his face, she gave him a hug. "I'm so sorry, Doctor, but that's not the worst of it."
His face became a brittle mask. "Tell me."
The Brigadier was hit with a dart that contained the same ingredients as the one found in Newport. The digilitum didn't affect him, but the combination of sedatives caused him to go into cardiac arrest." Hesitating a second, she finished remorsefully. "They weren't able to revive him. He died at the scene."
For a moment, he contemplated the fact that Alistair had died saving his life, much like his friend had tried to do over thirty years ago. It was only when he noticed Martha's pained expression that he realized the terrible revelations were far from over.
"Go on."
"Someone attacked the house. We don't know who because the Hub was destroyed at the same time. Whoever it was killed Drocina with digilitum and took Melissa." Hurriedly, she added, "Your brother was at the scene. He'd been shot and poisoned with aspirin and sodium pentathol. The healers have induced a coma to try to give him time to purge the aspirin from his system. They haven't given up hope that he might eventually recover."
Reeling, he had to briefly lie back down until the room stopped spinning. When he finally rose, his entire body was tensed, as if he were a coiled snake ready to strike. "Who was in the Hub?"
She flinched at the fury in his voice. "Ianto. He offered to trade with Mickey because Mum and Dad were visiting and wanted to take us out."
For a moment, his expression softened to one of sympathy. "His death wasn't your fault, Martha."
But then, the emotionless mask was back in place. Without another word, he stalked out of his hospital room, only to be stopped by the two Secret Service agents flanking his door. Once he was in the hallway, they wouldn't let him out of their sight, but he ignored them as he now ignored Martha.
It only took him a few seconds to find a nurse who had enough authority to tell him that Jack wouldn't be out of surgery anytime soon. Briskly, he demanded to see the Captain's personal effects. As soon as he opened the box, the Doctor grabbed his bond mate's Vortex Manipulator and teleported away.
Marshall was talking heatedly to someone on the phone when the Doctor dramatically appeared in his kitchen.
"What the—?"
Prying the phone away from his fingers, the Time Lord hurled it against the wall. He then grabbed him by the left arm, twisting it around until it had been forced painfully behind his back. Finally, he shoved him into a dining room chair.
Released, the man was belligerent. "You don't have any right to be here! By the time the police get through with you, you'll be the one sitting in jail for the next few years. I'm human! I've still got rights, you asshole. You don't—"
Marshall abruptly stopped talking, his vocal cords strangled with terror. He'd looked into the Doctor's eyes.
"No outside authorities, not this time, Major. This time, you're going to answer to me."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
It was a lie of desperation, and it only further enraged the Time Lord. Grabbing him by the shirt collar, the Doctor pressed his hands to his face, entering the twisted man's mind before he could blink. With the force of an explosion, he blew every one of Marshall's memories open.
It took him less than a second to wade through the sewer that was Marshall's mind, and he found little there to mitigate the man's guilt. From an early age, the burly man had taken pleasure in degrading those weaker than himself, and he'd continued the practice throughout his military career. When he'd been jailed for assaulting Melissa, he had blamed the victim, and his censure had only increased when he had discovered that she was, in fact, an alien.
He'd deluded himself for so long that he truly believed he'd been the victim of some vast alien conspiracy. Ironically, he was correct to a certain extent. The Doctor recognized all too well the person who had initially approached him about organizing like minded people into the group that would later be called Earth First. The betrayal hurt like a physical wound. Marshall was a psychopath, yes. But, he'd been primed and pointed like a gun by someone the Doctor had once professed to love. The depth of the betrayal made him sick to his stomach.
Choking down his bile, the Doctor zeroed in on the last bits of Marshall's relevant memories. The man didn't know where Melissa had been taken or why she hadn't simply been killed. But, he had been the one to make arrangements for the assassination attempt and the destruction of the Hub.
Even after proof of Marshall's complicity, the Doctor had intended to leave him with nothing more than a nasty headache. As he withdrew from the madman's mind, however, he found the one memory that Marshall had desperately tried to hide.
With a sick lurch, the infuriated Time Lord recognized the basement of the Melissa's house in Colorado. She was still conscious, although she looked to be dazed. He watched with growing wrath as Marshall wrenched her sweater over her head, effectively trapping her arms in a tangle of wool.
He fumbled at his pants, and then he was pressing against her chest with every intention of forcing himself into her mouth. Unexpectedly, she twisted underneath him, exciting the sick, deranged psychopath. Squeezing her throat in order to feel her thrash for air, he ejaculated against—
The Doctor's rage tore through his captive's mind, and the screech that escaped the dying man's mouth was bloodcurdling to hear. His memories were yanked and ripped and torn asunder until there was nothing left but an empty shell. With his own abrupt cry, the Doctor wrenched himself away, sinking to the linoleum floor, horrified at what he had done.
For a brief moment, he was so repulsed by his actions that he couldn't move. But, he brutally compartmentalized his self-loathing in order to take advantage of the information he'd gathered. He might not know where Melissa was being held, but he now knew who was behind it. He'd go to the Citadel and rip it apart if need be to find out what Romana had done to his bond mate.
Glancing at the empty shell of a human, the enormity of what he'd done finally hit him. He'd acted as judge, jury and executioner in one fell swoop, and he hadn't given the condemned an opportunity to beg for mercy. Moreover, the brutally honest part of his mind recognized that he would gladly do it again.
He wasn't sure how to feel about that. He suspected it made him a monster, but after what he'd seen in Marshall's mind, he couldn't rally enough guilt to feel that way. Perhaps later, once he'd had sufficient time to contemplate his actions, he'd feel differently. But for now, all he wanted to do was find his wife.
As he input the complicated calculations necessary to take him to Gallifrey, an unwelcome presence popped into existence behind him.
"I don't know why that blond bimbo sent me to help. Looks like you're doing well enough on your own."
Whirling around to face John Hart, the Doctor's rage rapidly dissipated. The man had been attacked by something fearsome, and he had a sinking feeling that he knew the perpetrator. All but two of his potential timelines had been destroyed. One ended in a very nasty, imminent death and the other was dependent upon Hart's unwavering obedience. The Time Lord knew which one he'd pick.
"I'm sorry. No being should tamper with another's free will."
"Spare me your platitudes." Hart sounded as grating as usual, but it was clear that he was shaken. "I should have known as soon as the bitch mentioned Jack that I was going to regret it. She told me to protect Torchwood, but that's easier said than done when everyone hates my guts. So, I said 'fuck it' and warned you all, but it seems the Bad Wolf didn't consider that the definition of protection. Well, fuck her, too."
Both men momentarily held their breath, terrified that the insult might somehow call her forth. When nothing happened, the Doctor gazed at Hart compassionately.
"What did she ask you to do?"
"She didn't ask me shit. She burned a set of coordinates in my freaking brain. I see them even when my eyes are closed. That's what she fucking did to me. Said you had a delivery to make and that you'd need the coordinates. Guess she didn't want me to forget."
A delivery? For the first time since he'd woken up in the hospital, the Doctor had a surge of hope. "Tell me."
The ex Time Agent wrote the complex spatial and temporal coordinates on a scrap of paper and handed it to the Doctor. "I know what planet this is, and I really don't want to go."
The Doctor recognized the location as well. "Then don't. She told you to protect Torchwood, and right now that's Jack. He's in hospital in Washington, D.C."
"Jack's been hurt?"
At the Doctor's nod, he scowled. "Damn. I hate hospitals." But he allowed the Time Lord to grasp his hand and engage the teleport.
Dropping Hart off in the lobby with strict instructions not to bother anyone, the Doctor searched for Martha. She sat in the empty cafeteria drinking a coffee. As soon as she noticed him, she clutched him in a hug.
Brusquely, he put his hands on her arms, breaking free from her embrace. If he allowed someone to comfort him, he just might break down completely. "I have to find the TARDIS, Martha. Where is she?"
He could tell by her expression that she desperately needed to tell him something, but she nodded and answered his question first. "The TARDIS is under guard in a hangar at Andrews Air Force Base. UNIT thought it would be safest there."
Nodding, he began to input the coordinates that would take him to Andrews, but the physician gently put her hand over Jack's Vortex Manipulator.
"Jack's out of surgery. The next few hours are critical, but . . . ."
"But?" The tears that stained her face weren't happy ones.
"But," she admitted slowly, "one of the bullets lodged against his spine. The other shattered his left femur. If he lives, the doctors don't think he'll ever walk again. I thought you might want to be the one to tell him."
"I can't." Before she could express her disappointment, he disappeared.
The TARDIS was being stored in the hangar where the U.S. Air Force kept the President's airplane, Air Force One. The Doctor guessed you couldn't get much safer than that. Since the guards were on the outside, it was easy to appear on the inside to retrieve his ship.
Talking out loud as he input the coordinates, he explained to the old girl how important it was to arrive precisely when and where he'd been told. He wasn't sure how much his ship could understand, but it never hurt to try. He needn't have worried. He landed precisely when and where he should have. Rushing outside, he ran headlong into Jack's sonic blaster. Taking a good look at a younger version of the Captain, he decided the Bad Wolf had a sick sense of humor.
Young Jack missed Melissa's reaction to the noise of the TARDIS materializing in the small room. He had sprung to his feet at the odd sound, his blaster at the ready. When a blue rectangular box appeared in front of him, he didn't know quite what to make of it. He was wary enough to consider it a threat, however, and gripped his weapon. Still, he was more than a little taken aback when a skinny man wearing a fitted brown suit and trainers barreled out of the strange ship so fast that he ran straight into his blaster.
"Put that away," the Doctor snapped as he sidestepped the gun in order to assess his wife's condition.
Like his older self, this Jack showed an ability to accept orders when it really mattered. Without protest, he lowered his weapon.
Kneeling beside Melissa, the Doctor held her hand, his emotions so jumbled that he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "I'm here, Em. It's going to be alright."
He feared he was lying. Another contraction shuddered through her leaving her gasping. She was dangerously pale, and for the first time since she'd been put on bed rest, he honestly feared for her life.
"Drocina?"
"She's busy. But, don't worry. Jack and I are going to take care of you.
Scanning her with the sonic screwdriver, he gently smoothed her dull, coarse hair. No wonder she was so pale and out of breath; only her right heart was beating. Scanning the room as he tried to decide how to best treat her, he noticed an important absence.
"Not to get caught up in tangents, but is Romana likely to find us?"
"If Romana's tall, crazy and ginger, then you don't have to worry about her. She's dead."
He was somewhat taken aback by the answer, but he had no time to spare to mourn Romana's passing. "Good, I think we have enough to worry about at the moment."
Before he could take away her pain, Melissa almost crushed his fingers in response to a new contraction. By the time it was over, she was slipping towards unconsciousness.
"Hang in there, Emma. We're going to get you into the TARDIS in just a minute."
Briefly leaving her, he approached the Time Agent. He appeared to be almost identical to the man he'd left in a hospital on Earth. Since the older Jack had no recollection of their meeting prior to World War II, he guessed that this Jack was living the portion of his life that would be stolen by the Time Agency. Even so, it was prudent to be circumspect. He didn't want to cause any more predestination paradoxes than necessary.
"Can you help me get her into my ship?"
"Looks a little small for one, let alone two."
The Time Agent didn't intend to sound belligerent, but it had slipped out. Here, finally was her Jack, ready to save the day. Only, it looked like her rescuer was woefully unprepared. She deserved better.
"It's bigger on the inside." He replied dismissively before chiding the younger man. "Now, are you going to waste time arguing any more, Agent, or are you going to help?"
"It's bigger on the inside," he echoed with a healthy dose of skepticism.
"Yes," the Doctor snapped, forgetting for a moment to be careful. "A little perspective here, Captain. You can see she needs help. Perhaps you can restrain your sarcasm until we're inside my ship."
The Agent had never been addressed as captain in his entire life, although he liked the sound of it. Suspicious, he nevertheless acknowledged the truth of the man's statement. Together, they helped the frail woman into the blue box.
Bigger on the inside didn't begin to cover it. But, he ignored his shock as the man led him past an intriguing control room into an incredibly advanced sickbay. Within minutes, they had the pregnant woman settled.
Temporarily standing in the background, the agent watched the man with the impossible ship place an oxygen tube under the pregnant woman's nose. After a minute, she seemed more alert, although the extra oxygen could not erase her obvious frailty. When he caught her staring at him with a frown on her face, he intentionally smiled.
"Glad to see you resting more comfortably, Emma."
The other man had definitely called her Emma, so it surprised him when her frown deepened.
"Doc, what's the matter with Jack? Why is he calling me Emma all of a sudden?"
So this was the physician, not Jack. Why was she still calling him Jack, though? She seemed to be lucid now.
Sitting beside her, the Doctor took her hand and blithely lied. "Earth First got their hands on a psionic grenade. We were attacked leaving the summit, and Jack was caught on the edge of the blast. He's bound to be a little confused."
She unquestioningly accepted his explanation, her features smoothing into a wry grin. "Nothing's ever easy with us, is it, Jack? I guess I should be thanking the Bad Wolf for sending you to me, but I wish she'd just taken care of Romana in the first place."
"Yeah," he agreed after a second's pause. "I guess it isn't."
A glance at the physician had instantly convinced the Time Agent to play along. He saw no reason to crush an ailing woman's comforting delusion. Besides, whoever the man was, he had some interesting tech. Maybe they could work out a deal. As the woman closed her eyes, he arched his eyebrows at her doctor.
The Doctor encouraged Melissa to rest before going over to speak to Jack. He needed to convince him to play along for the duration or she'd likely become too suspicious. At the moment, she didn't have the strength to worry about anything except giving birth.
"Thank you for not giving yourself away. Have you ever heard of spatial genetic multiplicity? You look remarkably similar to her mate. In fact, I'd say you're his identical twin."
"You're welcome," he replied shortly. "Look, I don't know what's going on, and for the most part I don't care. But, I've got a feeling that there's a reason why her Jack isn't with her right now, and I'm willing to play along so long as there's something in it for me."
The Time Lord regarded him warily. "If it's credits you want—"
"I don't give a damn about credits. I'm looking for some assistance with a temporal tracking algorithm."
"You want to track someone through time." He really didn't like the sound of that.
"Actually, I want to track someone through time and space, but I can find the mistake in the spatial equations on my own. Your ship looks advanced enough for you to manage the rest."
He looked down at Jack's Vortex Manipulator, suddenly glad he'd left its twin in the console room. He would have noticed the similarity immediately. "I promise to do what I can, but only after she delivers, and only if you promise to keep up the charade."
He grinned. "Doc, I think I'm going to like working with you. It's a deal."
The Doctor couldn't bring himself to smile. This was wrong in so many ways, but it was the only thing he could come up with at the moment. The man in front of him was about to meet his family for the first time, and if he died in Washington in the future, it would be the last time as well. There were some days when the Time Lord hated the intricacies of time travel.
The veteran Time Agent hadn't been present at all that many births, but he'd seen enough to know that the woman's labor was longer than she could safely tolerate. Although the Doctor (with a capital D, definite article) had been able to take away her pain, each contraction had weakened her further, until she was bathed in sweat and trembling with exhaustion long before it was time to push.
He'd been relegated to a supportive role, and had spent several hours holding her hand and rubbing her back. But, that was fine; he had a lot to think about. The woman wasn't carrying triplets; she carried twins. One of the fetuses had two heartbeats, just like the woman he was desperately trying to find. There had to be some sort of connection, but he couldn't quite figure it out.
The pregnant woman hadn't spoken much; it simply took too much effort. She squeezed his hand when she could, and occasionally she would stroke his thigh, each caress underscoring that her Jack was a very lucky man.
Or maybe he wasn't. The Doctor wouldn't discuss him, even when she dozed, saying only that he was unable to attend the birth. He had a suspicion that Jack's absence wasn't by choice.
When she had fully dilated, it seemed to take forever for the first infant to emerge from the birth canal. It was a boy, perfectly formed, but by his size, born much too early. He gently held her hand as the Doctor whisked the infant away to place him into an artificial womb.
When the Doctor called out that everything was fine, he genuinely sighed in relief, informing Melissa that the baby was doing well. (He still didn't understand why she seemed to have two names.) The complication of premature birth must have been anticipated; the new mother hadn't shown any signs of undue anxiety when the Doctor had rushed off with her baby boy.
His own anxiety shot upwards as he was abruptly forced into the role of midwife when she delivered the placenta only a minute later. It seemed to be intact—not that he was an expert. But, he had delivered two babies previously, one at the spaceport on Boeshane and one in tenth century France. The one in France had died along with the mother, but he didn't like to dwell on that fact, especially now.
Suddenly, she whimpered, and the Doctor apologized from across the room. "Sorry, Em. I can't control the pain and take care of Owen at the same time."
She grimaced, biting back a scream, and young Jack encouraged her soothingly. "Hey, it's okay, Sweetheart. Scream all you like. Just a few more pushes and it'll be all over."
Weakened considerably, it took her more than a few pushes to give birth to a robust baby girl. Jack thought she was the most beautiful child he'd ever seen. She had a slick mass of brown hair to complement her beautiful blue eyes, and he momentarily lost himself in her adoring, guileless gaze.
"She's beautiful, sweetheart."
The Doctor returned to her side to check that nothing had gone wrong with the delivery. Again, everything seemed fine, and his face split into a wide, relieved grin. "Owen's adjusted to his temporary home, and she's excited to be free. Everything's perfect."
Wildly euphoric, Melissa had to agree. After all the worry, everything was perfect. Except, the longer she held her daughter, the more difficult it became to focus. Her hands were so cold; her bloodied feet tingled; and the strange numbness settling in her extremities was distracting. Gradually, her arms fell slack.
When the whine of the sonic screwdriver failed to spark any type of reaction, the Doctor took the baby out of her hands. Sitting beside his bond mate, he blinked back tears. Her right heart was faltering, and soon it would fail like the left.
Stroking her cheek, it was all he could do not to sob. "Don't give up, not now. Our children need their mother."
His heartfelt plea tugged at her awareness and she opened her eyes. "Beloved."
They spoke without words, their very souls joined as he poured every ounce of strength he could spare into her failing body. They both knew it wasn't enough to heal her hearts, but her smile was serene as she turned her gaze to the other man in the room.
"Jack."
The young Time Agent looked down at the woman before him, taking in her dull gray hair, the gauntness of her frame and her deathly pale complexion. Strangely, her appearance didn't repulse him. She had such a sense of peace that he couldn't help but wish he'd met her earlier.
"You did great, sweetheart."
"And so will you," she quietly promised. Her eyes welling with tears, she squeezed his hand. "Promise me one thing, Jack."
He had the strangest desire to confess that he wasn't the man she thought he was, that he wasn't her Jack, but he was able to squelch the impulse for her sake. He kissed her forehead.
"Anything."
"Take Owen to Boeshane one day, when he's old enough to understand"
He could feel the blood drain from his face. Thankfully, she merely thought him upset at the request.
"I know they rejected you, but it was part of your life, Jack. You said yourself it made you who you are."
Somehow, he managed to answer. "Yeah."
The Doctor quickly interrupted before she could accidently reveal anything else. "Get some rest, Emma. Lovingly, he covered her with a thick, warm blanket. "I'll be back once we get our daughter cleaned up."
After scanning her one last time, the Doctor led his visitor to the nursery, where he began to bathe their daughter. He let the Time Agent ask the questions, fearing he might say too much if he babbled away.
"So, I've crossed my own timeline. That's a first. You going to tell me what's going on?"
"Spoilers." His jaw snapped shut. He hated that word.
"Yeah, I guess it's not a good idea to know too much about my own future. I still need help with that algorithm, though."
"Let me finish up here."
Briskly, the Doctor bathed the baby and scanned her with the sonic. She was perfectly healthy. After he'd dressed her in a soft pink sleeper, he wrapped her in the tie-dyed blanket that had been a gift from Rose.
"Would you like to hold her while I check your equations?"
Jack looked at the baby like she was a live grenade. "I won't cause some sort of paradox?"
"Nah, it's not as if she'll remember it, Captain."
Gingerly, the Time Agent took the baby out of the Doctor's hands. Carefully supporting her head and neck, he peered deeply into her inquisitive blue eyes. She was stunning. Holding out his index finger, he watched in awe as she gripped it, smiling all the while.
"Hello, Sweetheart. I hope I get to meet you again."
A few minutes later, the Doctor returned with his Vortex Manipulator. The Time Lord appeared troubled. "You did this yourself? You didn't have help from a mysterious blonde?"
"No. Why? How far off am I?"
"You're not, and that's precisely the problem. This goes beyond impossibilities, Captain."
Tearing his eyes off the baby, Jack studied the Doctor. He didn't understand what the man was trying to say.
"Look, usually I'd do a little flirting and suggest a fabulous evening of sex to try to convince you to help me. But, frankly, as much as I'm sure we'd both enjoy it, we don't have the time. You need to get Melissa some help, and I need to find a—the woman I'm trying to find. So, if you can't help me with the equations, it's best if I leave."
With deep affection, the Doctor put his hand on Jack's shoulder. "I can't help you with your equation because there was nothing wrong with your calculations. It was your search parameters that were off."
"But, I input the time she would need me the most."
Abruptly, his eyes widened in shock. If the Doctor was telling the truth, then every assumption he'd made about the woman with two hearts had been wrong. And, Time Lords were much more than a myth. He needed to find her now more than ever.
Long practiced in hiding his thoughts, he quickly assumed a puzzled expression. "Damn, my timeline's not crossed, it's tangled. So, are we all going to disappear in a puff of logic?"
"Well, since we haven't yet, I think we're safe. And, I'd warn you to avoid paradoxes in the future, but I know I'd be wasting my breath."
He grinned. Now that sounded like something to look forward to. "Thanks, Doc. I won't forget this." Tapping in a new command, he flashed out of existence.
The Doctor watched him teleport, a rueful frown on his face. "Yes, you will, Captain, and I'm sorry."