Here we are, Last of the Time Lords! I know more than one reviewer's been anxious about whether future!Barry is really dead, to which my reply is: Read and see.
Also, despite Barry spiriting away the Jones family a few weeks ago, the Master was able to recapture Francine and Clive. However, Henry Allen is still safely tucked away-see the reason for that in the endnotes.
Almost exactly a year into The Master's reign, a man named Tom Milligan stood on a beach in England, holding a lamp and peering into the darkness. A lamp flashed on and off in the distance, and he moved his own in response. Several seconds later, a pair of living legends jumped out of a boat and strode towards him.
It must be said, they didn't exactly live up to their reputations at first glance. Martha Jones was exhausted, filthy, and haggard, while Barry Allen, despite his cheerful smile, looked emaciated.
The most credible rumors had it that they'd been traveling the world, earning the personal enmity of The Master. Sometimes separately, sometimes together, they'd crisscrossed the globe, staying one step ahead of his forces as they went. Other rumors floated around them: That they had powers which allowed them to move faster than the eye could see, that they were assembling a gun which could kill the Master, that they had travelled in time and outer space. Tom didn't know; all he did know was that if there was any hope at all, it rested in the two of them.
As the three drove, Martha told Tom a little about the Doctor, while Barry sat back and thought back over the last year. He'd seen Washington, DC devastated, Japan on fire, slave camps beyond count, forests chopped down en masse to provide fuel, the Master's face smirking down at him from Mount Rushmore, and his old neighborhood a single, smoking ruin.
A loosely-knit resistance had sprung up across the world, composed of the two percent or so of people resistant to the Archangel Network. Everyone from ordinary citizens to UNIT soldiers were working together to impede and frustrate the Master's forces wherever and whenever possible. He'd heard rumors that the League of Assassins had done particularly well in terms of smuggling individuals and supplies and eliminating supporters of the Master's. Nanda Parbat had been assaulted by the Toclafane a few months ago after the Master had finally locating the place, but Barry suspected that dozens of them still had escaped to wreak havoc across the world.
His dad, he knew, was working as a Resistance doctor, while Iris was running an underground blog spreading messages of hope in conjunction with Winn Schott. Neither of them had seen Joe since the day the Toclafane had first swooped down. He tried not to think about it. He tried really hard.
Of course, most of the world was still either being oppressed or actively aiding the Master—he'd had a couple of run-ins while in America with an organization called CADMUS, and evading the world's intelligence agencies and the Master's special ops teams, led by men like Generals Eiling and Shrieve, had been no easy task. And then, of course, there was Wonder Woman.
Over the past year, his enhanced metabolism had proved both blessing and curse: it had been invaluable in keeping him a step ahead of the Master's forces, but the corresponding drain on his body, when food was already hard to get, was almost as much of a difficulty. He'd seen the best and worst of humanity over the last year; incredible courage and altruism, and astounding amounts of selfishness and cowardice. He'd watched far too many good men and women—and some bad ones—die, including his own future self. And he was so tired.
Nearly over, he thought as they pulled up to their next stop, the compound housing Professor Allison Docherty. One way or the other.
In Africa, Barry had used his own lightning to take down a Toclafane, though it had tumbled into a crevasse before he could recover it. With the help of Professor Docherty, they produced an artificial blast of lightning and lured another Toclafane into it, hoping to find a weakness. The metallic orbs had been the bane of his life over the last year, and it was with no small satisfaction that he helped break apart the outer shell.
"Now, what are you?" Barry murmured. As it turned out, it wasn't a robot as he'd thought, or even some alien species, but far, far worse. The Toclafane were the cannibalized, cybernetic remains of the human race from far in the future, who'd followed the Master back in time to slaughter their own ancestors for the thrill of it.
"That is sick!" Barry exclaimed. "That is so sick. On a scale of one to ten, that's, like, fifty-two!"
"But it's fun," the sphere giggled. Tom shot it in the face.
Later, they told Docherty and Tom the story about the special gun they were developing to kill the Master, and about the Doctor, and after sharing a meal,
Barry and Martha headed over to the slave quarters in Bexley, where they shared stories about the Doctor and talked about hope…until they were abruptly interrupted by the Master himself. Martha shot Barry a look, but he shook his head.
"He'll murder the whole block if we run."
"Then I guess we've only one choice."
They moved out to face him, and Barry immediately felt a sting in his shoulder. He pulled a dart from his neck and spun to glare up at one of the Toclafane hovering above.
"What'd you do?" Martha growled. The Master blinked at her innocently.
"Oh, he's fine. Just some speed-dampening nanites to make sure Mr. Allen doesn't try anything clever. You understand," he added genially.
"Yeah," Barry snapped. "'Course."
"Now, the bag. No, don't give it. Throw it."
With the greatest show of reluctance she could muster, Martha slung the bag over, and the Master shot it with his screwdriver.
"And now, brave companions…."
He aimed the laser screwdriver again.
"Nooo!" Tom bellowed, rushing out. The Master raised his arm, but Barry yanked his new friend out of the way just in time.
"No more deaths!" Barry yelled. "No more killing. You've got us. You've won. Take us away, but no. More. Killing. Is that clear?"
The Master sighed, like a child told that it's past their bedtime. "Fine. If you insist. Let's go."
As dawn rose, Barry and Martha knelt before the speechifying Master onboard the Valiant, and laughed at him.
"Seriously?" Barry choked out.
"A gun in four parts?" Martha laughed. "Scattered in four parts, across the world?"
"Yes, and I destroyed it," the Master growled.
"You really don't get it, do you? A gun, in four parts, scattered across the world."
"What do you mean?" the Time Lord asked, and for once, he sounded almost nervous. The Doctor gripped the bars of his cage fiercely.
"As if I would ask them to kill."
And then they laid out their plan: The true plan, to get themselves there, at that moment, after having spent a year traveling the world, telling stories about the Doctor. Inspiring the people to hope. Employing the power of words to overcome fear. And using the Master's own weapon, the Archangel Network, against him. It was, at heart, so very, very typical of the Doctor.
In every dialect of every language in every region of Earth, the human race chanted simultaneously. Onboard the Valiant, Jack, Barry, Martha, and even Lucy spoke together. One word. One thought. One prayer.
"Doctor. Doctor. Doctor."
"I order you to stop!" the Master yelled, scrambling backwards. The Doctor, who'd spent a year tuning himself into Archangel, literally glowed with power and floated up through the air, the bars of his cage shattering.
"The one thing you can't do is stop them thinking. Tell me the human race is degenerate now, when they can do this."
As Martha scrambled to her family, the Master bellowed and aimed his laser screwdriver to the Doctor. He may as well have thrown a paper airplane, for all the good it did. The Doctor advanced on him, implacable, and the Master scrambled back until he was crouching against the wall. The Doctor flicked his hand, and Barry stumbled backwards as he felt his speed return to normal, eyes briefly flickering with yellow-orange lightning.
"You wouldn't listen," the Doctor said gently as he touched down. "Because you know what I'm going to say."
"No, no, no, no!"
"I forgive you."
The Doctor bent down and wrapped his arms around the cowering Master, holding him gently. The Toclafane, though, weren't going to take this lying down.
"Protect the paradox!" they called, and as one swooped for the Valiant.
"Barry, the paradox machine!" the Doctor yelled, and the speedster nodded, disappearing in a gust of wind that sent papers and a half-empty coffee cup whipping around. Speeding through the corridors, it took him just moments to reach the TARDIS, already guarded by Toclafane. That didn't matter, though, since he dodged between them too fast for even electronically heightened reflexes to react, and though he had to slow down to insert his key, he was inside the TARDIS just moments after they registered his presence. Within, he regarded the glowing red column and gritted his teeth.
"This is gonna hurt," he muttered, and whipped into motion once more, running in a circle, pushing himself faster and faster, breaking the sound barrier with a roar of effort, before rushing through one final circuit and launching himself into the air, drawing back his fist, and striking the paradox machine at supersonic speeds with every bit of power he could muster. The explosion threw him back through the air, and he had just enough time to think, Ow, before he crashed back against the walls and darkness claimed him.
When he awoke, the TARDIS was back to her usual self, and she hummed at him as Barry climbed to his feet. He felt like he'd been trampled by a Judoon football team doing the Riverdance, and his wrist ached, but all things considered, he'd expected to feel much worse.
Super-accelerated healing. Love it.
Stumbling out, he found his way back to the main cabin at normal speed, ready for anything. What he found was the Doctor crying over the Master's body, as Martha sat numbly with her family and Jack led Lucy Saxon (whom he later found out had avenged herself on the Master after a year of abuse) away.
"It's over," he breathed. "It's really, finally over."
Though the destruction of the paradox machine meant that time had been reversed to just before the Master shot President Winters, and so no one outside the Valiant remembered any of the last year, there were still a few loose ends that needed to be tied up. As Martha checked in on Tom Milligan and dropped off some flowers for Professor Docherty, Barry rushed across the ocean to his girlfriend, swept her off her feet, and proceeded to snog her senseless.
"What was that for?" asked Kara once she'd gotten her breath back, keeping her arms wrapped around his neck.
For being alive, flashed through Barry's mind.
"For being you."
She leaned her forehead against his, giving him the smile that always made his pulse race. Her beautiful blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight.
"Who else would I be?"
"Hello, Barry Allen," the hologram of Jor-El said.
"Hey, Jor-El. I didn't…I don't suppose I've been to see you lately?"
"Not since fifteen months ago, no. Why do you ask?"
Barry sighed and blew out a breath through his cheeks. "Never mind."
Since time's been reset, I guess this means I never threw Wells in the Phantom Zone. Damn. Still…
"Do me a favor? Keep an eye on Harrison Wells, will you? Turns out he's the man who killed my mother."
"I will do so."
"Hey dad!"
"Barry!" his dad's voice came through the phone's speakers, and he smiled. "What's up, slugger?"
Barry couldn't help but grin at his dad's old nickname for him, a legacy of his tendency to get into fights in high school (and middle school, and elementary school, and kindergarten) to protect the more vulnerable kids.
"I'm good. Just checking in."
"Everything's great. Hey, any idea what happened to that prime minister of yours? One minute, he was about to make a speech, then next minute he disappears."
"Uh…" Barry swallowed. "I didn't see it," he answered honestly. They spoke for another few minutes before Henry signed off.
"Love you, son."
"Love you too, dad."
He checked in, too, with Clark, Sarah Jane, Joe, and Iris, before speeding over to Paris and giving a bewildered Diana a hug. "Just wanted to say, we're all good."
As Jack, Martha, and the Doctor leaned on the railing at Roald Dahl Plass in Cardiff, watching the seagulls and the tourists as they moved about their normal business, Barry sped over to them and joined his friends.
"Time was, every single one of these people knew your name," Martha noted to the Doctor. "Now they've all forgotten you."
"Good."
"Back to work," Jack nodded.
"I really don't mind, though," the Doctor told him. "Come with us."
Jack sighed, looking them in the eyes. "I had plenty of time to think that past year, the year that never was, and I kept thinking about that team of mine. Gwen, Tosh, Owen, Ianto, Mike…And my son. Malcolm. I could've done better by him. And if he has gone bad, it's my job to help clean up the mess he made. Like you said, Doctor, responsibility."
"Defending the Earth," the Doctor shrugged. "Can't argue with that."
He reached out, as if to shake Jack's hand, and grabbed the Vortex Manipulator.
"Hey! I need that!" Jack protested as the Doctor sonicked it.
"You could go anywhere with this. Twice. The second time to apologize."
"And what about me?" he asked, much more seriously. "Can you fix that? Will I ever be able to die?"
"Nothing I can do. You're an impossible thing, Jack."
"Been called that before," the captain laughed, before straightening up and saluting them. "Sirs. Ma'am."
Barry grinned at him, returning the salute. "Take care, cap."
"Yeah. You too." He took a breath, steeling himself, before turning to the Doctor. "But I keep wondering. What about aging? Because I can't die but I keep getting older. The odd little grey hair, you know? What happens if I live for a million years?"
"I really don't know," the Doctor laughed. Jack shrugged and smiled wryly, explaining that he'd once been a poster boy for the Boeshane Peninsula, where he'd grown up. "I was the first one ever to be signed up for the Time Agency," he reminisced. "They were so proud of me. The Face of Boe, they called me," he added, oblivious to the others' dawning looks of surprise. "Hmm. I'll see ya. I'll tell Oliver you said hi, Barry."
He winked, and was gone, jogging across the plaza with his coat streaming out behind him.
"No," the Doctor breathed.
"It can't be," Martha agreed.
"No. Way," Barry gasped.
"No. Definitely not. No."
Their laughter echoed over the bay for a good long while, mingling with the cries of the gulls.
A little later, they were parked outside the Jones house, Barry chewing on energy bars while they waited for Martha, the Doctor playing around with the console. As she came in, Barry caught a look from her. They'd spent so much time together, gone through all kinds of hardships, and they knew each other, could read each other's moods without words.
The Doctor, bless him, was oblivious at first, but soon enough, even he sensed it. Barry stepped back, leaning against the console as his best friend spoke.
"My family needs me," Martha told them simply. "Spent all these years training to be a doctor, now I've got people to look after. They saw half the planet slaughtered, and they're devastated. How could I leave them? And…it's time for me to move on with my life."
She threw a look at Barry, who nodded.
"Thank you," the Doctor told her, and they held each other for several seconds before she stepped back. "Thank you for everything."
"I spent a lot of time with you thinking I was second best, but you know what? I am good."
The Doctor grinned and made an affirmative noise as Barry moved forward to hug Martha as well. They clasped each other tightly, remembering everything they had been through together.
"Martha, you're more than good. You're brilliant," Barry promised. "Don't worry, I'll look after him. Lose his head if it wasn't screwed on."
"Oi!" the Doctor protested, but the three smiled at each other. Martha dug in her pocket and tossed the Doctor her phone, which he caught easily.
"Keep that," she ordered, "Because I'm not having you disappear. If that rings…when that rings, you'd better come running, got it?"
"Got it," the Doctor promised, slipping it into his pocket. She nodded to Barry, who tapped a finger against his forehead and smiled, much as he'd done with Jack had done just a few minutes before.
"I'll see you again," she promised both of them.
"'Til next time, Martha."
"Good luck," Barry told her.
"Yeah," she grinned. "You too. Bye," she added to the Doctor, and kissed his cheek, then strode out to live her own life.
"Thanks for staying," the Doctor said quietly after a long silence.
"Yeah, well," Barry gave him a small smile, jolted out of his memories. "I made you a promise, remember? All that time ago, after our first trip? I promised you wouldn't be alone. And I meant it."
The Time Lord returned the smile and pulled down on the landing brake. "So! Meta Sigmafolio?"
"Sounds good to me!"
The Doctor and Barry Allen, alone again, off to see the universe.
The Doctor fiddled with a dial, ran a hand over his face, flipped a switch. And then everything went mad. The noise of a horn blasted through the air, and something crashed into the TARDIS, sending both of them flying.
Barry looked up and gasped. It was a ship's prow, sticking out of the wall. Dust rained everywhere.
"What? What?"The Doctor looked down at a life preserver that had fallen onto the floor, and mutely held it up for his friend to read the writing. S.S. Titanic.
"What."
So there we have it. A few notes:
Now the last year's been reversed, future Barry is still alive (technically, he never died), which of course he remembered, which is why he was so blase about getting killed. And, come on, if you were Barry, wouldn't you cram in as many pop-culture references as you could?
For those that read the Story of Martha, you may remember she (and Barry) encountered a bunch of aliens called the Drast who'd been planning to take over Earth and were stuck in Japan when the Master took over. Barry and the Doctor will take care of them offscreen.
I thought about having the Master grab Henry Allen, but I feared that it might lead to a case of unfortunate implications if Martha leaves to look after her parents but Barry doesn't to look after his dad, and after everything she's been through, Martha is strong enough and knows herself well enough to know that it's time for her to leave. Plus, in-universe, Barry's future self could hide Henry, but he needed to maintain the timeline.
Next week: A ship with a very unfortunate (but very apropos) name, an intense conversation, and a fair bit of foreshadowing!
