Hey, everyone! Yes, I know, it's been ages. I'm dealing with getting a master's degree, working, moving house...it's a lot. Anyway, I've had this piece in mind for a while. A bit of both worldbuilding and character development, as well as a chance for Barry and Martha to bond.

Life, the Doctor had once told Barry and Martha, depended on change and renewal. When you traveled with the Doctor, change was pretty much the only constant. One day you'd wake up in second century Rome in the military camp of Marcus Aurelius, the next you'd be curling up with your friends for warmth in a drafty dungeon on the planet Peladon in the 52nd century.

So for both Barry and Martha, life in 1913 was as alien as anything they'd experienced on another planet. For two months, they woke up day after day in the same place and time period. Martha had her duties as a maid, which Barry supported in every way he could when not working as the school's librarian. It wasn't uncommon for her to find a corridor already scrubbed clean before she could reach it, or for the boys who made fun of her to shortly after be discovered by one of the masters with a cask of forbidden beer under their beds.

"Thanks for letting me stay at the library this afternoon," she said to him as they sat outside the pub one evening. "It all gets…"

"You're doing amazing," he promised her. "I don't know how you stand it."

"Wouldn't be able to do this without you," she told him.

"Oh, you'd be okay by yourself," Barry shrugged.

"Another six weeks," she said quietly. "Then back on out."

"I can't wait," Barry agreed. She gave him a wry look, and he shrugged. "Sorry. Yeah."

"Well, can you imagine the Doctor's face when he wakes up and realizes I've been giving him a bowl of pears to eat every morning?"

"Hey, they're very healthy," Barry told her pompously, struggling to keep a straight face. "Lots of vitamins and minerals…wouldn't want him to fall sick, after all."

"Doctor's orders," Martha agreed. They looked at each other, and broke out laughing.

"I will miss the scenery here, though," Barry said after a while, gazing out at the twilit Herefordshire moors. "And running with Max."

"He's great," Martha agreed. "I'm really glad he taught me to meditate. It's been really useful. And that okichitaw, too."

"It's amazing," Barry nodded. "There's nothing like getting to run with another speedster, Martha. The rush of it, the wind, the lightning…"

"I'm happy for you," she smiled.

"Thanks."

The two friends sat in silence for a little while, each lost in their own thoughts.

"You know my friend Jenny the maid? She thinks we're sleeping together," Martha told him out of nowhere, and Barry snorted beer through his nose.

"Seriously? Eww. I mean, no offense, but…"

"You're like my baby brother."

"Baby? I'm not even a decade younger than you!"

"Uh-huh," she smirked. "You do remind me of Leo, though."

"Your little brother, right?"

"Yeah. 'Cept not as annoying."

"Guess I'll have to up my game."

Martha snorted. "You'd have to be pretty annoying to beat Leo."

"Hey, I used to have a sibling myself," Barry pointed out. "Well, foster sibling. That I was in love with…"

At Martha's face, he shrugged. "Yeah, it's weird when I say it like that."

"You know," she told him. "I had this friend. Called Vicki. She lived with this bloke, student housing, there were five of them all packed in, and this bloke was called Sean. And she loved him. She did. She completely adored him. Spent all day long talking about him. he never looked at her twice. I mean, he liked her, but that was it. And she wasted years pining after him. Years of her life. Because while he was around, she never looked at anyone else. And I told her, I always said to her, time and time again, I said, get out."

Barry sighed and looked away. "Yeah. Point taken."

"You have a girlfriend that, it sounds like, you love, and who cares for you a lot," Martha told him. "Don't let anything get in the way of that. Especially not the ghosts of the past."

"I won't," he promised. After a few seconds of companionable silence, he smirked. "What about you and the Doctor?"

She skewered him with a withering look. He remained resolutely un-withered, and she dropped it with a sigh.

"It's that obvious, huh?"

"Just not to him."

"Biggest brain in the universe, and he can't see what's right in front of his nose."

"Yep." He leaned forward. "Seriously, though, Martha. Take your own advice. You'll find someone, but you don't deserve to be pining over the Doctor."

She sighed. "Got any advice for getting over a crush?"

Barry returned her wry smile. "When I figure it out, I'll let you know."

Just then, a scream shattered the night. By the time Martha had dropped her mug on the table and jumped to her feet, Barry was already gone.

"I hate it when he does that," she muttered.

Barry sped to a stop at one end of an alleyway. Dimly, at the far end, she could see a tall man standing over another, crumpled at his feet. A pool of dark liquid—Barry had a bad feeling it wasn't beer—spread around him.

"Hey!" he shouted.

The tall man turned towards him, keeping one hand in his pocket.

"And who might you be?" he asked in an accented voice Barry couldn't quite place.

"Oh, just your friendly neighborhood vigilante. Going to have to ask you to step away from that nice man over there."

Although it was dark, Barry could've sworn he saw a flash of teeth. "And if I refuse?"

"Then I'm gonna have to ask you not so nicely," Barry told him.

"Come, then," the man sneered.

Barry rushed forwards, easily dodging the knife hurtling towards his face in slow motion. He twisted to catch it…and was so busy congratulating himself that he completely missed the second knife, which struck the inside of his thigh.

The speedster let out a yell and crumpled.

"Not bad," the tall man told him. "But not good enough."

Then there was pain, and blackness.


Before they'd settled in 1913, Barry had awoken in any number of confined spaces over the last few weeks—three or four dungeons (depending on how you counted), a laboratory, a walk-in refridgerator, a cell in the Tower of London…this was the first time, though, he'd woken up in someone's basement.

"Ah, you're awake," came that same voice. Barry looked up, head still swimming slightly, to see the tall man looming over him only a few feet away. His captor stood on the other side of a glass wall, wearing a fancy dark purple suit and a mildly curious expression, like a collector examining a previously unknown type of bug.

"Who are you?"

"Of course. My apologies. My name is Vandal Savage."

"Good for you."

"And your name?"

Barry paused for just a beat. "Harry Potter."

"Mm-hmm. Let me make a few things clear to you."

Savage laced his hands behind his back, leaning forward to pierce Barry with a dark gaze. "The cell you are in is reinforced with magic. You will not be able to escape until and unless I decide otherwise."

"And what do you want?"

Villains, in his experience, loved to gloat and tell people their evil plans in order to show off their intelligence. Savage merely smiled and raised his eyebrows.

"I'd like for you to tell me about your powers. Enhanced speed, I see, and some kind of healing factor to go with it."

"Answer for an answer," Barry shot back. Savage inclined his head.

"Very well."

"Who are you?"

"I have had as many names as there are winds, as many titles as there are ways to die. My first name, though, was Hath-Set. I was the counselor to Pharoah Rameses of Egypt."

Barry's eyes narrowed. "Immortal or time traveler?"

"Very good, Mister Potter," Savage said, and Barry barely repressed a snicker. "If that is truly your name. I was affected by the energies of a meteorite, and became immortal. My once lover, Shayara, and her traitorous lover Prince Khufu, are reincarnated every few decades or so. By killing them, I retain my immortality." Savage bared his teeth. "Your turn."

Barry shrugged and took a moment to compose his thoughts. "I was visiting Cardiff, got hit by lightning, went into a coma, and woke up with super speed. Later, I fell into a hole in reality and woke up within the Speed Force, which is this extra-dimensional energy field…thingy…that gave me powers."

Savage stared at him. "You're serious."

"Uh, yeah, actually. Your turn. What do you want me for?"

"You and I, Mr. Potter, are very much alike, I think."

Barry raised his eyebrows.

"Both of us have been granted great power. Both use it for what we think is right."

"You use it to kill people, I use it to help people," Barry pointed out. Savage waved an idle hand.

"I am not the monster you think I am. I taught Robin Hood to shoot a bow. I have worked with leaders of many kinds in many places. I have brought peace, justice, and security to countless millions. With your abilities and my genius, no man need ever lift a weapon in anger again."

Just like Palpatine, Barry thought, internally rolling his eyes.

"I offer you a choice, Mister Potter. Share your powers with me, and I will let you go free from here. No harm will come to you."

"Share my powers? How does that work?"

"I was high priest in the mightiest empire of its time," Savage told him, "and I have been studying the occult arts for millennia since. Agree, and I will conduct a ritual that will allow me to take your power for my own."

"And if I don't, you'll kill me," Barry rolled his eyes.

"No," he said, and there was a vicious, confident smirk that made Barry shiver. "I will simply leave you here for two days without food or water. Then I will ask you again. I'm sure you will be more, shall we say, amenable. And if not…"

Not even staring into a Dalek's eyestalk had Barry ever felt quite so vulnerable. He'd faced armies and monsters of all kinds, but none had ever felt quite this…personal. Gelth and werewolves would kill you, Cybermen would convert you, Daleks would murder you and get satisfaction from it, but Savage could and would vivisect him, or suffocate him, or leave him gasping for breath with a knife in his chest, and enjoy it.

The young man rose and looked his elder in the eye. "I'll tell you what you can do with your offer."

Savage smirked and turned away. "See you in a couple of days."


Barry huddled in the darkness, knees to his chest. He'd tried vibrating through the walls, floor, and ceiling of his cell (result: absolutely nothing); smashing through with sheer kinetic energy (result: both hands broken and an almost-dislocated shoulder); using a whirlwind created by spinning his arms really quickly (result: getting thrown against the opposite wall); even the "lightning throw" technique Max had talked about (result: almost electrocuting himself when the lightning had bounced off).

Thankfully, he'd had several of his concentrated calorie bars in a pocket of his suit, and his speed-healing had fixed his broken bones, but he was still very cold, incredibly thirsty, and, more to the point, completely trapped. He'd tried calling Martha's cell from his suit communications system, but it had gone to voicemail. For that matter, he wasn't sure if she even had it with her or if it was back in the TARDIS. And even if she did pick it up, how could she hope to get past a millennia-old sorcerer who'd chump-shotted Barry?

Max, his only other ally in this time period, didn't have a cell phone so far as Barry knew, and even if he did, he didn't know the number. Barry had even thought about calling the TARDIS phone directly and hoping to reach a past or future version of the Doctor, but given that his Doctor had been scared enough to turn himself human rather than confront the hunters on his trail directly, he really didn't want to take the risk of drawing them here.

Might have to risk it, though. Maybe…

Out of nowhere, a shadow detached itself from the wall and stood in front of his cell, wearing a form-fitting garment in mottled shades of dark green and brown. A mask covered almost all of the face, but Barry's instincts whispered that this was a very dangerous person.

"Good evening."

"Who are you?" he asked, rising slowly to his feet.

"An old enemy of Savage's. You can call me the Immortal Woman."

She bent over the lock and, with a quick series of motions, picked it open.

"There you go."

"Savage?"

"Indisposed," she said, and there was a cold look in her eyes that sent a shiver up his spine. "We've fought each other a hundred times over the last thousand years. I know him well. Now run, Barry Allen. Run. Oh, and…uh, give my regards to Mr. Smith."

And then, before he could ask any more questions, she struck a match, turned, applied the flame to a wooden support column, and melted back into the shadows. Barry shrugged to himself. Lacking any other options, he turned and ran.

Barry Allen wouldn't see Vandal Savage again for a long time. But neither man would ever forget the other.

So in the comics, Savage's arch-enemy is the Immortal Man. I figured, in this story, who better to use than Ashildr?

Next time, we will finally begin Human Nature/Family of Blood! The next chapter of In The Realm of the Sandman is also on its way.