Chapter 10: Endings
The stench of burning flesh, expended fuel, and the sharp aftertaste of nitro-glycerine drifted over the remains of what had once been a beautiful artefact of a forgotten time. However, Alistair could not find it within himself to regret his actions. Had Morka been allowed to continue, he would have released the plague. All human life on the planet would have died.
It was Wenley Moor all over again.
"Another day, another battle. No matter how many years have passed, little changes, eh, Doctor?" He slung his rifle over his shoulder and turned to face the Time Lord.
His pin-striped suit looked rather worse for the wear, as did his general dishevelled appearance. It was only through long experience with the Doctor – any version of him, at least – that he noted the lines of pain around his eyes. Even though the other man professed not to be a soldier, he embodied that particular aspect of soldiering far too well. Never give up, never say die. And ignore pain. No matter the cost.
"Rarely does," the Doctor agreed. A flicker of something – sorrow, anger, regret? – darted across the other man's face as he turned back toward the remains of the pyramid. "I need you too keep your men back for a little while longer, Alistair."
"We need to check for survivors," he replied. He did not add that any living creatures in the rubble would be dealt with. Permanently.
"We don't know if the plague was destroyed. Until I know for certain, I don't want a human anywhere near that battlefield, understood?" The words were snapped, but beneath the apparent anger he knew the truth. He had finally identified the emotions on the other man's face. Worry and fear.
The Doctor had always carried a great burden upon his shoulders, but at this moment his form bore the shape of Atlas bowed under the weight of the world. "Doctor…"
One glance from the Time Lord was enough to stop his protest. There was no use in arguing with him when he looked like that. He nodded. "Go on, then. Give us the all-clear as soon as you can."
"Doctor, it won't affect you, yeah?" Rose asked as her brow furrowed with worry. "If the plague wasn't destroyed, that is."
"I have a get-out-of-infection-by-plague-free card," the Doctor said with a faint smile. "I'm not human." He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and thumbed it on. The faint blue glow contrasted harshly with the dusty light filtered through the still-settling dust from the explosion, giving his face a faintly sinister appearance.
"Be careful." Alistair said, moving to the side as the Doctor limped past.
He was a man of action, but he could do nothing. The Doctor was right. By sending any of his men, or accompanying the Doctor himself, he would be condemning them to possible infection by the Silurian plague.
So, now, he had to wait.
"I hope you're happy." Elena Morales' voice was sharp as she spoke from behind him. "Not only have you just destroyed a priceless archaeological site on a mere whim, but you've just let an injured man go and do your job for you. I'm going to file a report with the United Nations and the scientific community for your gross negligence, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart."
Civilians. Sometimes, he rather hated the restrictions placed upon him because of his post. Otherwise, he would feel free to tell Miss Morales just what he thought of her threats. "Miss Morales, I assure you that whatever complaints you have regarding my activities here will be heard by the UN – and dismissed. Protecting the planet takes priority over your ruins."
"Protecting the planet?" Elena scoffed. "You're just playing shoot-the-dressed-up-terrorists."
"They're aliens." Rose contributed in a matter-of-fact voice. "Real aliens and not blokes dressed up in funny suits. I know 'cause I've seen them. I've had to run from 'em, and they're definitely not humans."
"You're crazy." Elena replied, shaking her head. "All of you. Crazy! Thinking that dressed-up terrorists are aliens? You belong in an asylum!"
He spun to face her, astonished. "My God, woman. You honestly think that that's all the Silurians were? Costumed terrorists? They were about to release a plague that would kill millions."
"There were other ways. Other things you could've done. Did you talk to them? Try to negotiate? No. You just shouted at them and gave the order to bomb them. Destroy an ancient city just because you were too..." The woman's words were cut off by Atan's hand on her arm.
"nr'Gliktic ar'maliku natum caalu melel ternam," the tribal leader said. Atan's face wore a slightly shell-shocked look as he glanced at the burning remains of Naachtun.
"Taalum kr'naalik!" Morales snapped. She seemed rather disconcerted by whatever it was that Atan had told her.
"Caalu melel." Atan repeated.
Elena shook her head, but some of her earlier anger seemed to have faded. "Atan does not blame you for what you did. The sacrifice was worth it – he knows that the Silurians were evil and had to be stopped. However, that does not excuse you for your actions, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart."
"You think I'm looking to be excused? Miss Morales, I am a military man. All I require is that the job that I am assigned is completed to the best of my ability." Alistair turned from her and faced the smoldering battlefield.
"And that includes sending an injured man into that to do your dirty work?" He caught her gesture out of the corner of his eye as she indicated the debris-strewn clearing and the slow-moving form of the Doctor.
"If it is necessary and he's the only man to do it? Yes." He knew without seeing her face that she was furious with him and his answers. Sometimes that was what being a military man was about. He made no excuses and offered no apologies.
Not for this.
Not when the fate of the Earth was at stake.
Even when one of those imperiled lives refused to see what was just in front of her nose.
Step, step, shuffle, limp, slide, skip.
The soft noises of his passage sounded like thunder against the crackle of the flames. This was the world that he built for himself. Death, life, and death once more. It was a vicious circle.
Once upon a time, when he was younger and older and carried a brolly, he had killed. He had destroyed an entire planet for the sake of the one he walked upon now. Yet the past was doomed to be repeated, especially if one's name was the Doctor.
There were no once upon a times. Not here. Not now. He was a new man, yes. However, it was the same old story. One megalomaniac. Check. One plot to destroy either a) the planet or b) the human race. Check. Life or death choices? Check. Only one viable option as said megalomaniac decided to release his doomsday weapon? Check.
Death, life, and death.
Same old story. New him.
He could feel Rose's and Jack's eyes boring into his back, but he ignored them. Better that they stay back. Better that they stay safe. There were some things that he could not tell them. No matter how happy he seemed. No matter how he had vowed to avoid the guilt that had so characterized his previous self. Some things remained unspoken.
They always would.
Step, step, shuffle, limp, slide, skip.
The glow of his sonic screwdriver was muted in the harsh glare of the sunlight. Amazing to think that just this morning he had worried that there would not be enough light left to explore. Not enough light left to see the wonders of Naachtun.
He had seen them, all right. Seen straight to their heart and found a little piece of his past had come back to haunt him. He had grinned cheekily, taunted the villain of the story, found the Brigadier, and indulged the tiny bit of Ace-hewn logic deep within his soul.
When in doubt? When the world was at stake? There was little that a tiny bit of Nitro-Nine could not cure.
He shook himself. No. This was not him. He was a new man. New teeth. New hair. New loves. Well, mostly new. New mole. New clothes. Bit grubby at the moment, but still relatively new.
He had done what he had to do.
The sonic screwdriver emitted a loud beep. There. He crouched before a large pile of rubble and began to shift some of the smaller stones. "It only takes a pebble to start an avalanche," he said – more to keep himself company than to educate any who might be within hearing distance. Of course, had a human been in hearing distance they would be on the receiving end of a rather irate Time Lord's lecture. He had been assured many times that his absent-minded professor lectures were to sometimes be feared. Especially when he indulged in the minutia.
Ah. He paused in his industrious shifting to change the setting on his sonic screwdriver. When it beeped in confirmation, he sighed. Even now. Death, life, and death. It still haunted him.
Doc-tor... Morka's mental voice was weak as more of the rubble fell away from the fallen Silurian. He did not have to look at his screwdriver to know the truth. Morka was not long for this world. Not anymore. Death, life, and death.
"Morka," he replied as he changed the setting on his screwdriver once again. There it was. The fire nearby consumed the canister that had once held the death sentence of the human race. Destroyed in fire. How ironic.
A clawed hand freed itself from the rubble to clutch at his sleeve. It...is good.
"What is?" Why did he feel guilt? Why was he indulging the Silurian with one last word, one last chance to recant? What had happened to no second chances?
Death. Morka's hand fell limply to the ground and he sighed.
He had one constant companion. Just one. Throughout all his lives that did not change. His constant companion…was Death.
With a weary sigh, he shifted himself to his feet. Death, life, and death. That would never change. One more day, the human race was safe. Just for one more day. Until the next Morka. Until the next invasion. But, for now, he could content himself with that.
Step, step, shuffle, limp, slide, skip.
As he walked, he waved his hand and smiled brightly at the others from across the battlefield. From this distance, they could not see the lie behind the grin. All they could see was the truth.
All-clear.
The human race was safe.
Until the next time.
The moment the Doctor returned, Jack knew that something was wrong. Behind his smile, behind the laughing façade, he could see that there was a problem. Unspoken, yes. But there. However, knowing the Time Lord as well as he did, he knew that there was little chance that he would speak freely before strangers.
Hiding this knowledge behind concern, Jack grasped his lover's arm and steered him toward the TARDIS. "Let me look at that ankle."
The Doctor shrugged but allowed himself to be led back to the ship. No protest. No insisting that he was fine. Now he definitely knew that something was wrong.
He knew that Alistair and Rose trailed behind them, but for this moment his concern was for the Doctor. Behind the other man's brown eyes, he could see a phantom of pain, hurt, and guilt. The expression belonged more to a blue-eyed, leather-clad man than this younger, more jovial version.
Jack ushered the Doctor inside the TARDIS and down the corridor to the medbay. He worked in silence, healing the ankle and the other abrasions that his friend had gained while in captivity. "All right," he said once he was finished. He braced both hands on either side of the Time Lord, effectively trapping him against the bed. "What's wrong?"
The Doctor looked startled. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong. My ankle's right. Rose's right. Well, actually right-handed. Though you're left-handed, so that doesn't quite work. Alistair, never really noticed. Are you right-handed, Alistair?"
"Doctor," Rose said with a sigh. "You really think that's gonna work?"
"Usually does." A hurt expression darted over the Time Lord's face before he decided to switch tracks. "Why, wanna try something different? I hear Naples is lovely this time of year. Or, oh! I know. We can take Alistair back to England, and visit for a bit. Maybe even check out my house in Kent. Have I taken you there yet? Or we could just park ourselves in the vortex for a while and let the world pass us by. Not a problem, that. After all, it does travel in time."
Rose looked rather confused. Then again, he suspected he did as well. "You have a house?"
"I didn't tell you? Blimey, I'm getting forgetful in my old age. Sorry 'bout that. We can go there next, if you like. Probably 'bout time I showed up there this go-around." His smile was innocence-personified.
"Doctor, that might distract your companions but that won't distract me," Alistair said from his position near the doorway. "You use the same old tricks, even though it's a newer you."
"Why fix what isn't broken?" the Doctor asked, but seemed to give in. "The plague's gone. And Morka was still alive." The words were said with the nonchalance that was normally reserved for reciting a grocery list.
"Was?" Alistair repeated.
"Not anymore. He's dead. No more. Finito. Nada mas. No more Morka. But he lived just long enough to see me." The Doctor looked away from his questing gaze, preferring to regard the greenish-gold roundels on the walls of the TARDIS than him.
So that was the problem. He knew the Doctor. He knew how he regretted needless death – even that of an enemy. Jack suspected that there was more to the story of this Silurian than the Doctor was telling them, but he also knew that it was highly unlikely that the story would ever be told.
With a rustle of cloth, Rose joined him by the bedside. Her hand automatically reached for the Doctor's, entwining their fingers. "'M sorry."
The Doctor shrugged, looking between Jack and Rose with a fond smile. "What for? Not your fault. More mine than anyone else's."
"That is where you are wrong, Doctor," Alistair interrupted. "It was my choice. I chose to fire that weapon. I chose to destroy Naachtun. All you did was live. That's it. Nothing more. You can't carry the weight of the world on your shoulders all the time, Doctor. That's another habit of yours that I could do without. That's what friends are for."
The storm seemed to lift as the Doctor met Jack's eyes before glancing at Rose and Alistair in turn. "Thank you."
With a cocky grin, Jack released the other man and stepped away. He wanted to add that he wanted that 'thank you' paid in full the next bedroom they saw, but he restrained himself. Alistair was, after all, a product of his time despite his open-mindedness.
"Doctor, there is something else. I was recalled to active duty not because of this situation, but because of a more home-grown problem. The Prime Minister has been fishing for information about you. Dr Shaw, Jo, Sarah Jane and a few others have contacted Brigadier Bambera after they were collected by MI-5. I'm not certain what she is planning, or what she is up to, but I wanted to warn you."
And the storm returned. Only this time it was reflected in all of their eyes. "She's been fishing, hasn't she?" The Doctor raked his free hand through his hair and shook his head. "Knowing my friends, she wouldn't have learned much, if anything."
"Bambera is keeping an eye on her activities, and quietly ensuring that all of your previous companions – at least the ones we know of – are under UNIT protection," Alistair replied.
"Good. Thank her for me. I'll have to check in on Harriet Jones, Prime Minister, it seems. But not now. Now, I think, is time to celebrate. We won. Sort of. Kind of. Well, really we did." The Doctor grinned as he hopped off the bed. "If I know my native tribes – and really, I do – they're going to throw a great party tonight."
"Speaking of which, Doctor, why won't the TARDIS translate Atan's words?" Jack asked.
"Ah. Yes. Well, the TARDIS can't know every language in existence, now can she? Though, next time we're in the area, she will. Consider it an upgrade."
An upgrade. He shook his head. Only the Doctor. At least he had been spared the indignity of playing charades with the natives.
At least he had found one upside of the original surprise. Even if it was only one.
Shadows lengthened and grew deeper as the sun sank lower beyond the trees. In the dusty twilight, the remains of the ruins gained a slightly sinister look. Behind each pile of rubble, or behind each tree, her over-active imagination could picture a Silurian. However, she felt no mental intrusion. She felt no need to run. She was safe.
They all were.
With a faint smile she turned from the ruins and faced the dancing flames of the bonfire. The tribesmen had insisted, as the Doctor had suspected, upon celebrating their victory. The drumbeat echoed oddly in the clearing – bouncing off the rubble, the Doctor had explained – but it was strong enough to echo the pulse of her heart.
Alistair had given permission for those officers not on duty to consider themselves on R&R – though he had given them a firm lecture on not imbibing the local alcohol. She smiled faintly as two of the off-duty soldiers tried their hand at whatever dance the locals were doing. To her inexperienced eyes, it looked like the dance was more an excuse to leap about while trying to look as serious as possible.
Those who chose not to participate in the dance were either watching the dancers or clustered around the dozen smaller fires that were scattered about the clearing. Her smile widened as she moved toward one of the smaller campfires. Jack was animatedly telling one of his stories – probably another one where he was naked, come to think of it – to the Doctor and Alistair.
"...and so, there I was, holding nothing but an umbrella and this rabbit. Now, no one thought to warn us that the cave was inhabited. We just thought it would be a nice place for a camp. We hadn't counted on the rain or the big, hairy, two-tusked creature inside. We saw it, and we ran. Oh my god, we ran so fast back to the ship and we took off faster than you can say boom. I swear we didn't stop until we hit the space-lanes!"
"Didn't we hear this one?" she asked, tongue-in-cheek as she all but collapsed next to the Doctor. "Though last time I thought there were fifteen of you. An' you were naked."
"The umbrella and the rabbit were new, though. I rather liked that. Maybe next time you can throw in a…" The Doctor's words were cut off as Jack smacked his arm. "Oi!" He rubbed the injured limb with a hurt expression.
"So, what are your plans, Doctor?" Alistair asked from his position on the other side of the fire.
"Tonight? Tonight, I'm planning on enjoying this fire. As for tomorrow, well, we'll see what tomorrow brings. Might be something new. Might not be. But not to worry, I'll sort Harriet Jones, Prime Minister. But that's for tomorrow. Tonight's tonight. Tomorrow's tomorrow. Unless, of course, you have a time machine. Then tonight could be tomorrow and vice versa. Or something like that." The Doctor wrinkled his nose as he shook his head. "That didn't really make sense, did it? Must be something about this regeneration. Might not make sense ever again. Might be interesting, really. Not making sense."
She tapped his arm. "Doctor, you're babbling again."
He blinked and grinned sheepishly. "So I am. It's a part of my charm, really."
"Well, Doctor, with that I'm off to bed." Alistair stood and brushed the dirt off his trousers. "Are you going to still be here in the morning?"
"Should be. Unless I'm not."
The Brigadier shook his head. "Only you, Doctor. Goodnight, all."
"Night!" Jack waved.
Rose smiled. "Night, Alistair."
Alistair looked rather taken aback before he grinned. "Night, Rose." With those words, he turned and left the light of the campfire.
"Alone at last," Jack said as he stretched his back. "Now I can have my wicked way with the two of you."
"Not quite," the Doctor corrected. In the flickering light cast by the campfire, she could see two figures approaching, carrying an earthenware pot between them.
Atan smiled brightly as he reached them. Elena Morales' smile was less vibrant as the two set down the pot. Anger still lurked behind the woman's eyes. "Atan insisted that you must try this, Doctor, Rose, Jack. It's called chocolatl. It's a bit like hot chocolate, only much spicier."
"Sure. Tell him thank you." The Doctor stood and crossed the short distance between them and Elena.
Accepting an empty bowl from Elena, he dipped out a portion of the steaming liquid. Balancing it carefully, he returned to her side and offered it to her.
Rose accepted the earthenware bowl of hot chocolate from the Doctor with a nod of thanks. After the day that they'd had, hot chocolate would be most welcome. The Doctor passed another bowl to Jack before taking one for himself and settling beside her. As she and Jack began to drink, she suddenly realised that it had grown rather quiet.
When she looked up, she noticed that Atan was grinning widely at her. He picked up a bowl and lifted it in salute. He turned toward Elena and murmured something in his native tongue that she did not catch.
Elena laughed as she turned toward them. "I believe congratulations are in order."
"Doctor?" she asked. "What is it?"
He blinked for a moment and looked rather sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah. Forgot about that."
"Doctor?" If she didn't get a straight answer from him soon, she could not be held accountable for her actions.
He shook himself and grinned. "So, Rose Tyler, where would you like to go for the honeymoon?"
"What?"
"Yes, well...it seems that by offering you the hot chocolate and your accepting, and the same with Jack, we're married."
She stared at him in stunned silence for a moment. Married? "We are?"
"We are?" Jack echoed in a similar tone.
"Yup. That all right?" He looked rather worried. "There's an out, though. Not tribal members, us. Different customs and all. It's not even legal in most countries. Or planets. Well, on some of them it would be. But they don't have to know about it. I mean, what you don't know can't hurt you, right? Unless you're me, and then it might. And knowing your Mum, it would."
She shared a look with Jack before turning back to him, placing her hand on his arm. "More than all right."
Jack grinned as he added, "Might as well make it official, then." He offered her his bowl, which she accepted with an echoing smile.
As she sipped, he continued, "I'd actually call it fantastic."
Things tended to move fast in her life. Just last night, they had crossed a line. Now, today, they had crossed another.
It had been a surprise.
However, she decided, she rather liked surprises.
Even if they had started as one of those surprises.
THE END