The Dread of Tomorrow and Yesterday – Chapter 65
A/N: Here's the second chapter of Human Nature. Okay, so you lovely people finally got me past 600 reviews and I'm so glad you all like the story THAT much. So, thank you so much for that. Anyway, onto personal news, I've officially crossed continents and hemispheres and I'll be living in Switzerland for the next year, so staying in my new accommodation means less WIFI surety and less time on my hands because I'll either be travelling or studying, so if updates are slow, I really am sorry for that, but my situation has changed. I don't plan on abandoning any of my fics, but I'm just giving you all a heads up.
Reviews: At the end of the chapter.
Warnings: Sexual Content, Language, Racism, Discussion of Rape etc.
Human Nature: Clothes Make the Woman
Timothy could hear whispering voices coming from the watch.
"Time Lord... Timothy, hide yourself... I'm trapped, kept inside the cogs..."
Timothy pressed down on the release latch of the watch and it opened, releasing wisps of golden energy.
As John came back into the room, Timothy quickly closed and pocketed the vests.
"Fascinating details about the siege, really quite remarkable-" John paused when he saw the strange look on Timothy's face. "Are you alright?" He asked, worriedly.
Timothy nodded, emphatically. "Yes, Sir. Fine, Sir."
"Right then. Good. And remember, use that brain of yours!" John encouraged.
John held out the book and Timothy went to take it, but as soon as he touched it, he saw a vision of John as a different man to his usual teacher.
"Power of a Time Lord…"
Timothy could see John Smith, wearing a pinstripe suit and holding a device that resembled a screwdriver. The vision faded as John released the book, leaving Timothy shaken.
"You're really not looking yourself, old chap… anything bothering you, or...?" John trailed off.
Timothy swallowed hard in shock, his gaze turning fearful for a moment. "No Sir... Thank you, Sir."
Walking quickly, he left John's office, closing the door behind him. Timothy stopped for a moment, before running up the stairs to the dormitory. Sitting on his bed, he took the watch out again and clutched it, tightly, in his fist, able to hear the voices again. He opened it again, letting out more of the golden light and louder voices.
There was a rattle of gunfire, and a hit on one of three rough dummy targets made of a bucket, spliced sticks and a stuffed sack. The boys were doing target practice, a machine gun set up behind a bunker of sandbags.
"Concentrate." John called out, sternly.
Rhea appeared from one of the school doors, watching in horror as the guns were being fired by one of the boys she had scolded back in the hallway, the rounds being fed in a steady stream by that adorable Timothy Latimer she had seen around the school. She clutched onto wall of the building.
"Don't let me hurt anyone."
This isn't you. Rhea thought, wistfully, watching as John taught all of his students how to shoot.
"Now, you'll want to lift the gun and steady your hands." Her uncle warned her, tipping her hands up.
"But, it'll be loud." Rhea complained, looking up at him with her big, green eyes.
Arjun looked down at his young niece. Sometimes, he was stunned by the eerie resemblance the girl had to his brother and mother. Long, dark hair and smooth, dark skin that gave away her Indian heritage, this coupled with her mother's green eyes, small nose, and graceful neck, he was sure she would be quite the beauty when she grew up.
"Yes," He said, patiently. "When you pull the trigger, your first instinct will be to drop the gun, keep a hold on it and ignore the noise."
Rhea bit her lip and looked straight ahead at the makeshift target he had set up at the end of the garden. She squeezed the trigger and aimed the gun, her eyes falling shut when she heard the revealing boom of the gun going off.
"Hutchinson, excellent work!" John called out, breaking Rhea out of her memories.
The Headmaster appeared out of nowhere.
"Cease fire!" He called out.
Hutchinson obeyed.
"Good day to you, Headmaster." John tipped his head, deferentially.
"Your crew's on fine form today, Mr Smith." The Headmaster mused.
"Excuse me, Headmaster, we could do a lot better. Latimer is being deliberately shoddy." Hutchinson said, slyly, glancing at Timothy.
"I'm trying my best." Timothy protested.
"You need to be better than the best. Those targets are tribesmen from the dark continent." The headmaster pointed out.
Rhea scowled. 'Dark continent'? What the hell?
"That's exactly the problem, sir. They only have spears." Timothy said, innocently.
The Headmaster rolled his eyes. "Oh, dear me. Latimer takes it upon himself to make us realise how wrong we all are. I hope, Latimer, that one day you may have a just and proper war in which to prove yourself. Now, resume firing." He glared at the young boy.
Hutchinson did so as Latimer began feeding the ammunition again. As the firing rang out, Latimer heard a different kind of warfare, the sound of a falling bomb, and a vision took over his mind.
Two young soldiers struggled through the dark, one supporting the other, who was injured. A watch was opened by one of the soldiers.
"One minute past the hour. It's now, Hutchinson, this is the time. It's now." An older Timothy Latimer said, grimly.
He looked up as he heard another bomb heading straight for them.
The gun stopped firing.
"There's a stoppage, immediate action." Hutchinson looked at Latimer to assist. "Didn't I tell you, Sir, this stupid boy is useless! Permission to give Latimer a beating, Sir?"
The Headmaster shrugged. "It's your class, Mr Smith."
Please, say no. Please, say no. Rhea thought, desperately.
"Permission granted." John said.
Oh, come on! Rhea growled.
"Right, come with me, you little oiyk." Hutchinson growled at Latimer.
Hutchinson grabbed Latimer's wrist and pulled him up. He and most of the other boys escorted Latimer away to be beaten. Another boy remained standing next to John, and turned to him, sniffing loudly, a gesture that made Rhea tense upon sight. John turned and looked him up and down.
"Anything the matter, Baines?" John asked, carefully.
"I thought... No, sir. Nothing, sir." Baines shook his head.
Turning sharply, he headed off to join the beating, while Rhea was still watching in avid disapproval and disbelief.
"As you were, Mr Smith." The Headmaster said.
"Ah... Pemberton, Smythe, Wicks, take post." John instructed.
As three more boys took up positions at the gun, John spotted Rhea watching them and waved her over.
"Ah, hello, my love." He murmured, kissing her, sweetly, on the cheek.
Rhea blinked, feeling the touch of his lips on her cheek. "I was… I was just going to ask if you would like to have lunch with me." She said, weakly, resting a gloved hand on his arm.
"I would love to. I will join you just as soon as I am finished with my students." John said, lovingly. He saw her face, as white as chalk, and the disapproval that was clear in her eyes and he frowned. "Is there something the matter, darling?"
Rhea swallowed hard and shook her head, stepping away from him, and smoothing her hands down the skirt of her dress.
"It's nothing." Rhea's smile was wistful and desolate. "I just thought you were a different person. I guess I was wrong."
She nodded at him and walked away, back into the school, and John was left thinking that he felt as if he had committed a great offence.
In the village, a piano was being winched up outside a building in a rope sling, while two men were straining with the rope. Rhea and John are walking through the village, their arms linked with each other's.
"My uncle was in the army." Rhea said, wistfully, her hand curling around his bicep. "He never really spoke about it, but I knew it ached at him. I never wanted that for anyone else I loved." She whispered, thinking about herself. "I was angry at the army for such a long time."
She had spent so long trying her hardest not to become a soldier. The man that had made her strong had drilled it into her that she wasn't a soldier, that she was her own person and she had the sort of confidence in herself that most people went through their life without. It wasn't her calling to follow some fool's orders. She was smart and wise and powerful and she could carve her own path in this universe. But sometimes, she felt as if she were falling back patterns that could mistake her as being a soldier. She had always hated the idea of falling into line. Rules and regulations didn't work with her method of dealing with people who would try and harm her. Quick and sharp violence worked best with the men and women she had fought in her time.
It didn't help that she was inherently distrustful of an organisation like the military. They reminded her entirely too much of a police force. And she had only had bad experiences with policemen. They were easily corruptible. They worked for themselves or they worked for the people they knew. Too many innocents became caught up in the games they played and she was a victim of that.
She remembered begging the police to save her from her husband. She had detailed every bit of horror he had put her through. She had shown them all of the evidence. And they used it against her. They had a piece of her like every one of her abusers had before. And then they put her away for it. They had called her delusional. They had buried all of the proof she had. They had shoved her into an asylum and locked the door behind her, leaving her only to her memories and Damian's ghost, which didn't seem to let her go even now. She had never been able to trust in an institution like that ever again.
They were never going to help her.
She would have to help herself.
"You still are." John said, staring at her, misreading the rage in her eyes.
"Oh, definitely." Rhea cracked a weary smile. "Very much so, John." She said, seriously.
She still hated the policemen who had made fun of her, who had called her a madwoman. The ones who had taken advantage of her, that night in her lockup, while she was still working off the dose of whatever drug Damian had decided to ply her with. They had slipped their meaty fingers under her skirt and touched her in a way that made her feel sick to her stomach. They had explained to her that this was all she was good for and that her husband had to pay for things that they allowed him to do in their city, and she was their payment. They had convinced her that there was nothing she could do about, so she might as well lie back and enjoy their attentions.
Any pleasure she had received at their hands had been one extra slice she had carved into her heart over the years.
It was a testament to her depravity that she could get off on those sick bastards putting their hands on her.
At least, that's what she thought.
"I find it odd that you're teaching boys how to kill." Rhea said, darkly.
John raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think discipline is good for them?"
Rhea narrowed her eyes. She waved her hand back in the direction of the school. "That is not discipline, John. That is conditioning. You're conditioning those boys to believe that there is nothing more honourable in this world than to fight for your country."
"Isn't there?" John asked, curiously.
"Let me tell you something, John." Rhea said, slowly. "Do you know what happens in wars? People die and people forget why they died in the first place. After a while, people are just fighting for different things and it turns out that no one was fighting for their country in the first place. No boy is actually Captain America and it's cruel to expect them to be." She said, coldly.
John looked thoughtful, seeming to consider what she had just said. "I'll admit mankind doesn't need warfare and bloodshed to prove itself, everyday life can provide honour and valour and... let's hope that from now on this, this country can... can find its heroes in smaller places..."
John seemed distracted as he saw two things. First, a woman and a perambulator were coming round the corner by the shop building. Second, the rope sling holding the piano aloft was breaking outside the same shop. The two men holding it desperately tried to steady it and hold it, but the woman didn't notice and continued into its path.
"In the most…"
A young boy was tossing a cricket ball up and down in his hand. John looked from the ball to the rope; the second strand was almost completely broken, and the piano lurched alarmingly.
"Ordinary…"
The rope was almost cut and the woman was almost beneath the piano.
"Of deeds!"
John snatched the cricket ball from the young boy and pitched it at a bundle of spare scaffolding poles standing outside the ironmongers. The poles fell, hitting a plank of wood with a brick on the end. The brick flew into the air, up and over the piano, just as the rope snapped and it started to hurtle to the ground. The brick hits a milk churn on a cart, sending it falling into the path of the perambulator and stopping it in its tracks. The woman screamed and the piano hit the floor and smashed. Rhea was looking amazed at John, while John himself looked amazed by his own skill. As the baby in the perambulator started to cry, the two workmen rushed to see if the woman was all right. John and Rhea stood stunned for a moment.
"Che roba." Rhea whispered, shaking her head.
"Lucky…" John murmured.
Rhea raised an eyebrow, her face expressing her disbelief. "That was luck?" She asked, incredulously.
John flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. He straightened and stared at her with the most serious look he had ever given her.
"My most beautiful Sunehri, might I invite you to the village dance this evening? As my escort?" He asked, plucking up the courage.
He may have been married to the woman for six years, but she still scared the Devil out of him on a good day. There was something so independent and fierce about her that frankly intimidated him.
Rhea laughed, throwing her head back. She threw her arms around his neck, slamming her mouth down on his.
"Why, John Smith, are you asking me out on a date?" She purred in his ear, one of her hands stroking down his chest.
"Madam, the sort of attention you are giving me is best left for when we are in private." John said, flustered, looking around for anyone who might see him or her.
Rhea rolled her eyes and looked around, spotting a small shed that stood off to the side of the village. She grabbed him by the wrist and tugged him in that direction, making sure that they were completely hidden from view before she pressed her back against the wall. She smiled, seductively, at him and grabbed him by the collars of his shirt, yanking up him against her so that his chest was flush against hers.
"Wicked girl." John rumbled, his hand running through her hair and tipping her head back. He leaned down and his nose grazed the lean line of her throat, making her lips part.
"Oh, but wouldn't you be so bored with a proper and seemly wife, honey?" She breathed as his hands gripped her thighs and lifted them, wrapping them around his waist, her ankles locking together around his back.
His hands slid up the inside of her thighs, stroking upwards until he was grazing her cunt, making her moan out.
Once they had straightened themselves out and made themselves look somewhat respectable after indulging themselves in a little 'afternoon delight', they walked down, past the fields, one of which had a scarecrow.
"Well, I discovered a talent, that's certainly true!" John said, embarrassed.
"He even has an eye for the ladies." Rhea said, teasingly.
John stared at her, exasperated. "Rhea-" He drawled.
Rhea rolled her eyes and clutched onto John's elbow, leaning against his arm. "I'm just joking, honey." She said, sweetly.
"The devil!" John joked.
Rhea smirked. "A girl at every fireplace." She waggled her eyebrows.
John laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Now, there I have to protest, Rhea, that's hardly me!"
"Says the man who's taking me to the dance tonight!" Rhea snickered.
John rolled his eyes. "Yes, my wife of six years." He said, pointedly. He frowned, spying the scarecrow hanging oddly. "That scarecrow's all skewed." He murmured.
They crossed the furrows to reach it, and John started stretching it across its frame again.
"Where did you learn how to draw?" Rhea asked, interestedly, wondering if John remembered anything that would remind her of the Doctor.
"Gallifrey." John said, suddenly, making Rhea stare at him with absolute shock.
Rhea swallowed hard. "Is that in Ireland?" She stammered, hopefully.
John pursed his lips. "Yes, it must be, yes." He said, a little unsure.
"But you're not Irish." Rhea pointed out.
John shook his head. "Not at all, no. My father, Sidney, was a watchmaker from Nottingham and my mother, Verity, was..." He paused. "... Um... well, she was a nurse, actually." He said, rubbing the back of his neck, as he wracked his brain for the answers to Rhea's questions. "But you knew that, of course." John laughed, half-heartedly.
"I'm sorry, honey, I don't mean to upset you." Rhea looked up at him with big, green eyes that softened him, immediately.
"It's fine, darling." John said, softly, and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. He looked back at the scarecrow. "Well, my work is done, what do you think?"
John stood back and Rhea looked at the scarecrow.
"Masterpiece." Rhea laughed.
"All sorts of skills today." John exclaimed.
Both of them laughing, they headed back onto the road, completely missing the scarecrow turning its head to follow them.
In John's study, later in the day, John had his eyes fixed and concentrated on the pages of his journal, while Rhea posed for him on the couch.
"I feel as though time would be better spent with me naked on this couch." Rhea purred, twisting her head and allowing her long hair to float around her face, sending him a smouldering look as her hand stroked over her hip, seductively.
John looked at her, admonishingly. "My love, don't be so unladylike." He protested, the flush rising in his cheeks as he considered her proposal.
Rhea laughed. "Oh, honey, I'm not pretending to be a lady." She crooned and crooked her finger. "Come and join me." She insisted.
She felt different ever since she had slept with John. It was as if something had lightened inside of her. It made her feel free and uninhibited. But, it sat wrong with her. She still felt like the same old Rhea was burning right underneath her skin, but she was able to stop pretending with John. It was as if one night was all she needed for herself to accept that she did have feelings for the Doctor. She could accept the fact that the Doctor was very much important to her. She just needed more time – and some space – to figure out how important he really was.
John sighed, mock-exasperatedly, and closed the book, carrying it over to Rhea and taking a set beside her, as she crossed her legs over to the side. He opened the journal to the page he had just been using and he showed her the sketch he had been drawing. Her fingers stroked over the drawing as Rhea swallowed hard, overcome with feeling.
The woman in the drawing was beautiful. Her features were immaculate in the black charcoal, her eyes blazing and soft. Her hair was long and curly, framing her face. The dress was cut against her figure and the neckline dipped low in the front, her jewellery hanging gracefully against her collarbone. Her feet were propped up on the other end of the couch, her toes peeking out, delicately, out of the open toe of her heels.
Rhea bit her lip, an unreadable look passing across her face. "I think you made me entirely too pretty." She said, hoarsely.
John smiled and stroked a hand down her back. "Well, that's how I see you."
Rhea smirked, sadly. "Damaged goods aren't supposed to be beautiful, honey." She pointed out, her hand covering his. "I think the world, at least right now, just wants us to not exist." She paused. "Is that fair?" She asked, weakly.
John squeezed her hand. "That's not fair at all." He said, slowly.
He brushed the side of her hair, tucking a few curls behind her hair. She bit her lip and moved closer to him, their knees brushing. John placed a hand on her thigh, but Rhea ignored this gesture. She moved so that she was straddling him instead, resting on his knees. She placed her hands on John's shoulders and leaned in, kissing him softly on the lips.
His hands wound into her hair and stroked as his mouth moved over hers, deliciously. Her hands slid up from his shoulders to come up and cup the back of his skull in her palms. One of his hands slipped down from her hair and came to wrap around her waist.
There was the rattle of the door and Martha stormed in, and they broke apart.
"Martha, what have I told you about entering unannounced?" John snapped, impatiently.
Martha paled and scurried back out of the door, closing it behind her and leaning against it in shock.
"That wasn't on the list." She smirked.
"Rhea, we will be late. I need you to be ready now." John called out, irritated.
"I'm coming. Hold your horses." Rhea rolled her eyes.
She came out of her room and twirled in a circle for him, smiling at the way his jaw dropped once he saw her.
"You cannot wear that." John narrowed his eyes, determinedly.
She wore a blue and gold dress that slid down to her elbows in gold netting. She wore a pair of white silk gloves and a simple garnet necklace around her neck. Her hair, tied in an intricate bun at the back of her neck, was accompanied by a thick, beaded headband that covered most of her forehead and hairline and tied at the back by two black strings. The bodice of the dress was patterned in blue, but what stunned John into a stupor was the blue silk chiffon that dropped from the bodice into a pair of harem pants that ended high on her ankle, exposing much of her feet in the simple low-heeled Mary Janes that she was wearing.
"Why not?" Rhea pouted, her hands falling to her hips as she posed, proudly.
"Why not?" John asked, incredulously. "It may have slipped your mind as you were donning the costume, my darling, but you are wearing trousers." He growled low in his throat, unable to ignore the lust that coursed through his body at the sight of his wife dressed in such a provocative outfit. Anger burned at the edges of his eyes at the thought of anyone else but him being able to see her in such a dress.
Rhea smiled, benevolently, at him and strode, purposefully, in his direction. She stroked down his chest with the palms of her hands, settling low on his stomach.
"Don't worry, honey. It's chic." She purred, patting him on the cheek as if he were a small child that needed to be coddled. "Of course, people will talk. I aim to make them. It's more fun that way." She smirked.
John groaned.
This would definitely be a long night.
"So, question, can you even dance?" Rhea asked, her eyes twinkling.
She remembered the firm, confident hands of his previous regeneration's hands on her waist when they danced in the TARDIS in 1941, with fond nostalgia, and wondered if this Doctor – John – would feel the same way with his hands on her.
She so did love to dance.
John's shoulders slumped, as he looked thoughtful. "Um… I'm not certain." He trailed off. "But I imagine we danced at our wedding."
Rhea smirked. "Well, that's not a surprise." She joked. "Is there anything you're certain about?" She asked, curiously.
"Yes," John said, seriously, stepping closer to her and leaning down to press his lips against hers. "Yes."
In the maid quarters, the door opened and Jenny entered. Martha was making a pot of tea on an elaborate tray and smiled as she saw Jenny.
"There you are! Come and look what I've got. Mr Poole didn't want his afternoon tea so the cook said I could have it. And there's enough for two." Martha said, happily.
Jenny was still standing in the doorway, not making a move to come inside the quarters.
Martha frowned and looked at her, strangely. "What are you standing there for?"
Jenny sniffed, loudly.
Martha narrowed her eyes. "Are you alright?" She asked, carefully, thinking that she couldn't be too careful while they were on the run from the Family.
"I must have a cold coming on."
She joined Martha and sat down at the small table.
"Problem is, I keep thinking about them, but I don't know what to do." Martha said, shaking her head.
Jenny frowned. "Thinking about who?" She asked, confused.
"Mr and Mrs Smith. I mean, she's still skittish around him and we're gonna leave in a few weeks." Martha explained, looking down at her cup of tea, despondently. "I hope they fix things."
She wanted nothing more for this Rhea and the Doctor to be together, but Rhea seemed to be putting a damper in those plans already, and she had no idea what to say to her to convince her otherwise.
Jenny frowned. "Why?" She asked, hotly.
"It's like his contract comes to an end. And everything will go back to normal." Martha said, glumly.
"Leave for where?"
"All sorts of places." Martha shrugged. "I wish I could tell you Jenny, but it's complicated."
"In what way?"
Martha bit her lip and shook her head. "I just can't."
"It sounds so interesting. Tell me. Tell me now." Jenny demanded, suddenly.
Martha tensed, feeling the air change around them, realising that there was definitely something wrong with Jenny. She remembered what Rhea told her.
Don't let your enemy know you've faltered.
Keep your head on you.
Martha shifted in her seat and decided to change the subject.
"Would you like some tea?" She asked, lightly, narrowing her eyes at Jenny, trying to detect some change that would alert her as to what was wrong with her friend.
Jenny nodded. "Yes, thanks."
"I could put a nice bit of gravy in the pot. And some mutton. Or sardines and jam, how about that?" Martha swallowed hard, trembling slightly.
She had to get to Rhea.
"I like the sound of that."
"Right…" Martha nodded. "Hold on a tick."
Martha knew something was definitely wrong now, and moved over to the door as inconspicuously as she possibly could. Closing the door on her way out, she walked to the stairs and immediately started to run. Jenny's head turned back in the servants' quarters, knowing that Martha was trying to get away, and she pulled a strange gun from underneath her coat. Meanwhile, Martha was out of the building. Jenny went over to the window, aimed, and fired her gun at the retreating Martha. Missing her by just an inch, Jenny headed off.
Rhea was in the middle of glaring at John and Nurse Redfern, while they spoke to each other and laughed, the latter having stared at her with shock written all across her face when she saw the way Rhea was dressed, Rhea barely managing to hide a smirk – ha, take that, you obedient, conformist cow – when the door swung open, a breathless Martha rushing into the room, her eyes searching for Rhea. She rushed inside and ran up to Rhea, grabbing onto her wrists, ignoring the way that anger rushed onto John's and Nurse Redfern's faces.
"They've found us." Martha said, hurriedly, feeling her mask drop and the fear swarm all over her face.
Joan rolled her eyes, staring at Martha with disdain. "This is ridiculous." She scoffed.
John growled. "Martha, I've warned you."
Rhea, however, ignored John and Joan and looked at Martha, searchingly. "Are you sure?" She asked, carefully.
Martha nodded, emphatically. "It's Jenny. She had this gun and she tried to shoot me."
Rhea pursed her lips, cursing herself for allowing herself to be distracted by John's warm hands and sweet words. She rubbed the back of her head. "Okay, do you wanna tell me what the hell happened?"
"I just told you." Martha said, hotly. "The Family found us – they look like normal humans, by the way – and now we have to run again. He needs to open the watch."
Rhea nodded and they both strode over to the mantelpiece. Rhea swore under her breath as she patted the mantle, looking for some sign of the silver pocket watch that she could have sworn had been there just this morning. She snarled and spun around.
"Where's the watch? John, tell me right now. Where is the watch that was here?" Rhea snapped, her fists clenching at the side.
Her mind was tumultuous with her thoughts. The idea that the Doctor may be hurt because of her inability to keep her legs shut for five fucking minutes tore at her in ways that she didn't even think possible. If there were a sign from God telling her that her promiscuity was going to send her straight to hell, this had to be it. It terrified her to think that the Family would find the Doctor just because she had a lapse of judgement.
John exchanged a confused look with Joan and took a wary step closer to Rhea. "Darling, what are you talking about?" He asked, carefully.
"You had a watch, a fob watch. It was right there. Where is it?" She asked, snippily.
John frowned, his brow furrowing. "Did I?" He asked, confused, his eyes glazing over momentarily. "I don't remember."
"If it was in his office, I can't see what concern it is of yours." Joan sniffed.
Rhea gritted her teeth against the anger that rushed through her veins, hearing the woman's voice. Her nails dug into her palm and she wished nothing more to stretch her arms out and slice into the bitch's throat with her sharp nails. Or maybe swing her elbow out and shatter her ribs on contact. Or maybe reach out and grasp the sides of her jaw, her fingers stroking against the soft spot at the back of her neck, and twist her head, sharply, snapping her neck.
No.
Calm down.
You have better things to do than to waste this bitch.
…You can do that when the Doctor is back and we're all safe.
You have to protect the Doctor.
At all costs.
And Martha.
She's innocent in all of this.
The Doctor and Martha.
They are your priorities.
Martha stepped to Rhea's side, taking her hands in her own, sensing that Rhea was very close to losing every single bit of her self-control.
"But we need it... Oh, my god, Doctor, we're hiding from aliens, and they've got Jenny and they've... possessed her or copied her or something and you've got to tell us, where's the watch?" Martha asked, hurriedly.
Realisation dawned in John's eyes. "Oh, I see…" He nodded and turned to Joan. "Cultural differences." He picked up his journal and showed it to Rhea and Martha. "It must be so confusing for you. Rhea, darling, Martha, this is what we call a story." He said, slowly, as if he were explaining this to a small child.
"He did not just say that to me." Rhea said, slowly, shocked beyond belief. She spun around to look at Martha, who looked almost as angry as she felt. "Oh, my God, he did not just say that to me." She shrieked.
"I think he just did." Martha hissed, glaring at him herself.
"I'm gonna kill him." Rhea muttered, much to Nurse Redfern's absolute shock. "I don't care if he's human or a fucking Time Lord, he dies for this." She snarled, furiously, her eyes like green flecks of ice as they glared at John.
Martha bit her lip. "I'm sorry," Martha said to John, sincerely. "I'm really sorry but we've got to snap you out of this."
She swung her hand and smacked him hard across the face, tipping his head to the side.
"Martha!" Joan shouted, horrified.
"Good shot." Rhea said, proudly. "I taught you well, didn't I?" She smirked, pleased.
"Wake up!" Martha snarled at John. "You're coming back to the TARDIS with us!"
John's face transformed into an expression of fury. "How dare you!" He seethed. "I'm not going anywhere with an insane servant! You have obviously done something to my wife and convinced her to believe your silly ideas. I knew you were a bad influence on her. Martha, you are dismissed, you will leave these premises immediately. Now get out!" He snarled, grabbing Martha by the wrist and dragging her to the door and throwing her out, shutting the door behind him.
John turned to Joan. "If you would excuse us, Nurse Redfern, I need to talk to my wife for a moment."
Joan nodded, a little shaken by what had just happened. She regarded Rhea with smugness and a little horror. She pushed past Rhea, who itched to sink her fist into her jaw just once, and walked out of the door, shutting it behind her.
"I have never been more embarrassed in my life." John shook his head. He walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, leading her over to a chair and pushing her sit down in it. "What is the matter with you, Rhea?" He asked, coldly. "Why would you act like that? The things you were saying… I have given you so much leeway in the way you talk around me, but saying those things around company, Rhea, you simply cannot act like that. Like a…"
"A what, John?" Rhea's face turned cold. "A nutcase? A madwoman? Is that what you were going to call me?" She laughed, harshly. "Don't bother," She hissed. "I've heard it all before."
She made to leave the chair and wait out in his annexed library, but he held onto her wrist before she could make a proper getaway.
"Enough." John said, finally, his eyes boring into hers. "I have coddled you entirely too much, Sunehri, you will tell me what is happening, now." He demanded.
Rhea sighed, knowing that she had to pretend just for a little while longer, long enough to find the watch and give it to John so that he could open it. She dragged her hand across her forehead. "I'm fine, John, really." She smiled, weakly. "I'm just tired and I think I bought into Martha's fantasies entirely too much. The stories you told me just seemed so real…" She trailed off.
"That you thought they actually were." John finished. He knelt down in front of her and ran his knuckles down her soft cheek. "Oh, my love, I am sorry for being so sharp with you." He murmured, soothingly. "I told you that girl was a bad influence. Hopefully, you will listen to me, accordingly, about sending her away." He said, sternly.
Rhea itched to hit him – just once – in his stupid face. "Yes." She nodded, meekly. "You're right. I still want to go to the dance…" She hesitated, hoping that she seemed adequately timid. "If you still want me?" She bit her lip.
John chuckled as if the thought were the funniest thing he had heard in ages. "Silly girl, of course I still want you. Shall we go?" He asked, holding out his arm for her to take.
They proceeded out of his office and into the corridor, where Rhea spotted Martha hiding against one of the dark walls. She smiled, gently, at John and excused herself, telling him she'd meet him at the entrance to the school, that she had forgotten something in the room and she'd be right back. John nodded, acquiescing to her request after a moment's deliberation, and walked the opposite way, leaving Martha and Rhea alone in the corridor.
"What happened?" Martha hissed, approaching her.
"Oh, you know, same old. I pretended to be the perfect 1913 housewife after I lost it and he bought it, hook, line and sinker. Sometimes I forget how stupid men can be." Rhea said, blandly. She turned to Martha. "We need to find that watch, but I can't escape him. He's too worried about me to let me out of his sight."
Martha nodded. "You keep him distracted and I'll find the watch." She said, reassuringly.
Rhea nodded. "I'm going to grab my gun from the rooms. I can't be too careful now that the Family's here." She sighed. "Thank God for these dresses. They hide everything." She paused. "Martha, be careful. Avoid the Family at all costs. Don't do anything stupid and remember what I taught you." She said, sternly.
Martha nodded, weakly, and wrapped her arms, hesitantly, around Rhea's slightly shaken frame. She wasn't used to the physical contact from people she cared about. This definitely felt odd.
"I'll see you soon, Dr Quinn." Rhea promised, before taking off down the corridor.
Martha ran out into the night, almost shoving Timothy down to the floor when she bumped into him.
"Oh, sorry!" Martha said, quickly.
As she carried on, Timothy stopped and watched her. A memory flashed through his mind and he was able to see an image of Martha in what seemed to be the future, wearing the strangest clothes he had ever seen – slim fitting trousers and a smooth jacket that seemed to curve around her figure.
"Martha?" Timothy called out, uneasily, unsure of which Martha he was speaking to.
Martha shook her head, turning her head to face him. "Not now, Tim. I'm busy!" She called out and walked ahead.
Timothy watched her for a while longer, then turned and walked away.
Martha closed the TARDIS door and ran to where the Doctor's long coat was draped over a forked beam. She rifled through his pockets, looking for some sign of the fob watch.
Rhea, John and Nurse Redfern arrived at the village hall for the dance, Rhea smug as she held onto John's arm.
"What can I say, you're a dangerous man, honey." Rhea sighed, dramatically.
John chuckled. "You've taken my arm in public." He pointed out, grinning.
Rhea rolled her eyes. "I'm very scared." She said, dryly.
John and Rhea laughed, much to Joan's annoyance.
"Spare a penny for the veterans of the Crimea, sir?" A man slumped outside the village hall asked, lowly.
"Yes, of course." John dug into his pocket and pulled out a coin or two. "There you are."
Inside, people were milling about, getting drinks from a beer keg, laughing and talking.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Please take your partners for a waltz." The announcer called out.
Rhea raised an eyebrow as John offered his hand.
"What the hell." Rhea muttered under her breath and took John's hand, allowing him to lead her to their places.
One of his hand fell to the curve of her hip, sliding over the blue silk, sensually. The other took one of her hands and held it out away from their body. Rhea's hand grasped onto John's shoulder, as they started to dance once the music began.
Rhea had to laugh. "You can dance." She shook her head in disbelief.
"I am a man of mystery, my love." John grinned, smugly.
Just then, John's leading forced them to dance into another couple dancing.
"Sorry." John said, sheepishly.
Rhea resisted the urge to break away from him and smack her forehead. "Maybe you should just let me lead." She murmured.
The collecting man outside the village hall rattled his tin full of coins as he saw Martha approach the hall, determinedly.
"Ooh, staff entrance I think, miss!"
Martha rolled her eyes and prayed for what seemed like the umpteenth time that they would be able to leave this godforsaken place soon.
"Yeah, well, think again, mate." She said, dryly.
She strode past him into the hall.
Martha walked up to Rhea, who was sitting at one of the tables, alone, as she waited for John to return to her with their drinks. Rhea shifted in her seat and she stared at Martha, as the younger woman approached her.
"Did you find it?" Rhea asked, sharply.
Martha pursed her lips and shook her head. "I searched the TARDIS, Rhea. It wasn't there." She hissed.
Rhea gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to run her hands through her hair in annoyance and desperation. She, instead, dug her nails in the edge of the table.
"We'll figure it out, Martha, I promise." She swore.
John finally returned to Rhea and looked none too pleased to see Martha again.
"Oh, now really, Martha. This is getting out of hand. I must insist that you leave." He said, coldly, his hand falling to grip Rhea's shoulder.
Martha rolled her eyes and held out the sonic screwdriver. "Do you know what this is? Name it. Go on, name it."
Joan approached them, sceptically. "John, what is that silly thing? John?" She asked, seeing the way his eyes seemed to change when he slowly took it off Martha and turned it over in his hands. It was almost as if he recognised the strange object in his hands.
"You're not John Smith." John looked down at Rhea with barely disguised hurt, a fact which sent sharp ripples echoing throughout her body. "You call yourself the Doctor. The man in your journal, he's real. He's you." She said, quietly, her green eyes shimmering.
Suddenly, the room fell into absolute hush when a middle-aged man entered the hall, gun in his hand. Knocking over a hat stand as he strode inside, the people shrieked and moved away, fearfully. Rhea tensed, immediately, and her hand fell to the gun that was hidden in the skirts of her dress.
"There will be silence! All of you!" The man shouted.
Scarecrows filed inside after Baines and Jenny, much to the surprise of those who had gathered in the hall.
"I said silence!"
"Mr Clarke!" The announcer admonished. "What's going on?"
Clarke turned and fired at the announcer, dissolving him into nothingness. Joan's hand stifled a shriek. Latimer, in a corner, stood up, his eyes widening. Rhea growled low in her throat and stood up, making sure that she was standing in front of John.
"John, whatever Martha and I just said to you, you forget it. Do you understand me? We never said anything to you and you keep your mouth shut." Rhea snapped, the gun falling to the side of her body, her fingers already on the trigger.
"We asked for silence! Now, then. We have a few questions for Mr Smith." Mr Clarke smiled at the group of four, viciously.
"No, better than that." A little girl stepped to the side of Mr Clarke and Baines and regarded them with such a blank expression that it terrified John, Martha and Joan to see such a face on a little girl. "The teacher. He's the Doctor. I heard them talking."
"Oh, fuck." Rhea hissed.
"You took human form." Baines smirked.
John rolled his eyes. It was as if his world were being overrun by absolute mad people. "Of course I'm human, I was born human! As were you, Baines. And Jenny, and you, Mr Clarke! What is going on, this is madness!" He shouted.
Baines rolled his eyes. "And a human brain, too! Simple, thick and dull."
"He's no good like this." Jenny pointed out.
Mr Clarke nodded. "We need a Time Lord."
Over my dead body.
"Easily done." Baines shrugged.
Stepping forward, he raised the gun in his hand and pointed it straight at John. The crowd gasped and John recoiled, fearfully, backwards.
"Change back." Baines ordered.
John shook his head, desperately, making sure Rhea was safe at his side. "I don't know what you're talking about." He protested.
"Change back!"
"That's enough!" Rhea snarled, taking a step forward and making herself known to the Family.
"Oh, ho, ho, ho." Baines laughed. "Looks like we've got a brave one here."
Jenny suddenly grabbed Martha, holding her gun and pressing it against the side of her skull, threateningly. Martha screamed.
"Get off me!" Martha snarled, struggling in Jenny's grip.
"She's your friend, isn't she? Doesn't this scare you enough to change back?" Jenny smirked.
"I don't know what you mean!" John shouted, desperately, his eyes wild.
"Wait a minute…" Jenny's eyes dawned with realisation. "The maid told me about Smith and his wife... that woman, there!"
"Let's have you."
Rhea let her limbs relax and allowed Mr Clarke to grab her and use her as leverage against John. She wasn't stupid. She didn't want to out herself just yet, making sure that they underestimated and took her as just another early 20th century housewife. Then, she could reveal herself and take them down.
"Have you enjoyed it, Doctor? Being human? Has it taught you wonderful things, are you better, richer, wiser? Then, let's see you answer this. Which one of them do you want us to kill? Maid or the Mrs? Your friend… or your wife? Your choice."
A/N:
Che roba: unbelievable.
Oh, and the dress that Rhea's wearing in this chapter is Sybil's blue one from Downton Abbey.
Hopefully, you guys liked the chapter. We saw quite a few flashbacks into Rhea's backstory. I did mention in an earlier chapter that Rhea's uncle was the one who taught her how to shoot a gun, so I thought this would be a nice time to include that flashback. And Rhea definitely has a problem with authority figures. The police have screwed her around before and she doesn't feel all that trusting around them, so that just kind of extends to the military. And we also got another peek at Rhea's dark side, which is coming out more and more. I really do like writing Rhea's violent side.
Anyway, hope you all liked the chapter and don't forget to review!
Reviews:
Doctorsgallifrey: I'm glad you didn't have to wait for too long before my update lol. And I'm glad you're liking John and Rhea. They have a slightly different, more human dynamic than the Doctor and Rhea have, so I thought it's interesting to explore that. We've only got like 2 chapters more until the Doctor comes back and remembers though. When you say a different Doctor, do you mean like the 12th Doctor? Or do you mean that his time as John will change 10 when he comes back?
I love damon Salvatore girl: Thank you so much!
Type40TARDIS: Thank you so much! I think the actual The End of Time chapter will be really hard for me to write, but I wanted Rhea to catch 10's regeneration in full and that was a good way to start it. Plus, it opens me to have Rhea disappear just before 10 regenerates and I know that'll kill her too. I haven't actually watched a lot of Classic Who. I've watched a few of those stories, here and there, but I think I'd only tackle Classic Who once I finish the new series first. See, the way I was initially going for it was a comfortable Rhea with the uneasy, old Doctors, and a comfortable, new Doctors with an uneasy Rhea. See, for the Doctors, they've spent their entire lifetime with this woman they care for so much, and suddenly, in their last few regenerations, she looks at them like they're a stranger to her, and that's where I think the drama and heartache is best from a writing standpoint. That doesn't mean I won't ever write Classic Who, or that I won't make Rhea uneasy with the older Doctors, but I just don't see any plans for it as of yet. But that my change, for all I know!
Wicken25: Thank you so much!
The Reader: I'm so glad you like Rhea so far. Honestly, I guess I never thought of it that way, lol. And, fair enough. But, one thing I will say, from Rhea's specific perspective, to see the Doctor go at the TARDIS, however small a part he's attacking, with a mallet just wouldn't sit well with her, even if she is aware that it probably wouldn't do much damage. All she can see is this grown man hitting a piece of machinery with a mallet. Hell, if I see someone hit a computer when it doesn't work, I stop them, one, because I'm pretty sure it'll hurt them, and two, this irrational belief that they may actually damage the computer. So, I suppose that's kind of where Rhea's coming from. She probably knows that a time machine that big is not going to get beat up with a mallet but she'd rather not take any chances, considering the consequences if something does go wrong. But thank you so much for pointing that out!
ImsebastianstanButter: Thank you so much! And neither can I!
emily414143: The existing headcanon is yes, she will meet all of them from her perspective, and she has met all of them from the Doctor's perspective. As for River… who knows?
Kylie Winchester: I'm so glad you're enjoying the story so far. Yes, I know that Rhea's reaction towards the whole Martha thing was probably a little passive compared to what we've seen her do before. All I can promise you is that Rhea hasn't forgotten about it. And we will see, in the next few chapters, go about her own way of vengeance and she will hold the Doctor accountable for his actions. The only thing I can see in her defence is that, at the moment, one, she was more concerned for Martha's wellbeing, rather than raising a whole movement in her name and she did take it up with Martha herself. And two, she's prioritising. She made sure Martha was alright first, but she and Martha both understand what's at stake here and they want to make sure the Doctor stays safe as well. So Rhea had to prioritise there and Martha understands. It just means, for the moment, the whole Family of Blood situation has to come first and once it's done, Rhea can deal with what happened to Martha and John's part in it. Believe me, she hasn't let it go at all.