As the view turned away from the Dalek and the Timelord, it zoomed up towards the redflower, that crimson blossom in the Vortex which was seeping into all those other 'timey wimey' bits. One bit was of particular interest, once humming between a half hundred colours, this particular bit of living time is stained crimson. The timeline has changed. Narrowing the view, we pass through into this particular piece of space-time, and into a Cardiff bar. Jack Harkness and John Hart come crashing through a glass door. They stand, draw their guns and point them at each other's heads. A song ends, as a bloodier one begins.
JOHN (circling Jack)
You're putting on weight?
JACK (circling John)
You're losing your hair!
JOHN
What are you wearing?
JACK
Captain Jack Harkness, note the stripes.
JOHN
Captain John Hart, note the sarcasm.
JACK
Hey, I worked my way up through the ranks.
JOHN (feigns panting)
I bet the ranks were very grateful. I need a drink.
JACK
I thought you'd never ask.
They both settle down at the counter, John hands Jack a bottle, and grabs another for himself.
JACK
So er, how was rehab?
JOHN (guzzling down the bottle)
Rehabs. Plural.
JACK
Drink, drugs, sex and...
JOHN
Murder.
JACK
Aha ha! You went to murder rehab?
JOHN
I know, ridiculous. The odd kill, who does it hurt?
JACK
You clean now?
JOHN
Yeah, kicked everything. Living like a priest.
JACK (laughs, puts down the bottle.)
So, how's the Time Agency?
JOHN
You didn't hear? It's, ah, shut down.
JACK
You're kidding.
JOHN
No. There's only seven of us left now.
JACK
Wow.
JOHN
It's good to see you. It was never the same without you.
Jack leans in, as if to kiss him.
JACK (whispers)
You need to go. I don't want you on my territory.
JOHN (standing up, puts bottle down)
What? Time was you couldn't get enough of me on your "territory".
A sudden noise of others advancing on the two; both are reaching for their pieces.
JOHN (grabs his gun and shoots both doors)
All right, everybody out!
Several people filter in from both doors, only it's not just Torchwood operatives. It's... Gray, hands pressed over his ears. The Torchwood team seems entranced, entering the room like drones.
JOHN (surprised)
What are you doing here Gray, was this part of your plan?
JACK (memory-struck, lowers his gun slightly)
Gray?! Is that you? Oh my god, you're alive. Aha, you're alive!
GRAY (silent)
...
Or at least it was part of Gray that entered the room. Those hands held firmly over the ears were not exactly masculine, neither was the body that those arms were attached to, both rather overtly feminine upon closer inspection.
NOT-GRAY
Sorry to disappoint, but that's a no; to both of you.
Gray wasn't standing there covering his own ears, it was actually someone just holding his severed head up in front of their face; a face, which was now revealed, revealed as the head was carelessly slung into the crook of an elbow, like a motorcycle helmet placed on a hip. The face was distinctly familiar.
JACK
Gaheris!
JOHN
Bloody Hell!
GAHERIS (smiling amusedly)
'Bloody head' more like; Hart is it now? And of course we know the infamous Harkness.
John is not a small person, and Jack is even taller, but the woman, this 'Gaheris', stood well above both of them by several centimetres. Her mass of curls were a vivid shade of scarlet, as were her sharp almond eyes (though, those were darker, almost black to the point of dried blood.) She stroked the severed head of Gray almost thoughtfully, as she looked the two men up and down, a glint of fond remembrance in those serrated scarlet eyes.
GAHERIS
And that would be Commander Gaheris to you now, my dear captains.
JOHN
Commander of what, ashes? The Time Agency's gone.
GAHERIS
Not exactly, as you so simply put it, there were still seven of us left.
There was a sly glint to Gaheris' scarlet eyes as she brought her lithe fingers up to her heart-shaped face, sniffing delicately so as to inhale off the heady scent of death and decay.
JOHN
That's just wrong... Wait, what do you mean 'were?'
GAHERIS (smiling again)
Well there was seven of us, but now there's only three; and that's not even including the director.
JOHN
Then, that leaves just us; not including the director; meaning Harmond's still alive.
GAHERIS
Well no. I put the bullet in his temple myself.
JOHN
You said you weren't including the director.
GAHERIS (laughing merrily)
And I didn't, otherwise I would have said 'were eight,' instead of seven.
An audible gun-click interrupts the laughter, and indicates that the third of their number has had quite enough of their discourse.
JACK (pointing a gun at Gaheris in addition to the one he has fixed on John)
Enough! I don't know what the fuck you two are up to, but it ends now. You've killed enough people today. You'll pay for Gray and Harmond, but first, what have you done to my team?
JOHN (edgy)
Woah, settle down there cowboy. I'm just as surprised as you to find the Red Bitch with us again.
Gaheris makes a tutt-tutt noise in her throat at the sound of her informal title.
JOHN (continuing)
And I know you might not want to hear this, but, I'm the victim here. You don't realize. Actions, ramifications, ripples in the pond. It's beyond my control.
JACK
Beyond your control? Please!
JOHN (fingering open his wrist-manipulator)
Look at it! Go on. It's bonded to my skin. I can't get it off.
Jack looks at John's wrist manipulator
JACK
Whoa.
JOHN
Ninth generation detonator.
JACK (steps back warily, eyeing the detonator and Gaheris)
You're a walking bomb!
JOHN
Add to that a surveillance circuit, to monitor my every word and action, and Gray had me doing anything I'm told. Cos if I don't... boom! I'm not my own man.
JACK
Oh, please, that is the oldest trick in the book.
GAHERIS (tossing the severed head at Jack before rolling behind a wall)
No, this is!
Jack on reflex holsters a gun and reaches out to catch his brother's head. John takes the opportunity to snag Jack's other arm, simultaneously disarming and subduing him.
JACK (pinned and bitter)
Heh, some victim.
JOHN (pinning and looking unhappy)
I'm sorry. It can't be helped, I-
JACK
Save it!
GAHERIS
Oh how sad, a lovers' quarrel, and all because of me.
Gaheris slowly steps out from around the corner where she took cover, her hand upon what appears to be a vortex-manipulator of her own; two of them even.
JACK
How could you do it, how could you work with her?
JOHN
I-
GAHERIS
Enough chit, chat. Now I'll overlook the name calling and pointless male jockeying for my attention, but I've had quite enough of your two voices for now. Both of you still may be of some use to the Agency, time to own up to those pledges of duty and loyalty you swore when you joined. As the sole remaining Time Officer in the universe, I'm taking you two little lost agents home.
Gaheris began fingering in coordinates on her two wrist-strapped vortex-manipulators, and soon there was a flash of light thrice over, each respective to a Time Agent as they left the Twenty-First century, and headed for the end of the Fifty-first, under Gaheris' apparent machinations; leaving several dazed and confused Torchwood members behind in their wake, the mind-sync wearing off without a Time Agent near them to maintain it.
--
Meanwhile, in a hallway in the abstract realm of non-existence, we return to the DoctorDonna and the figure in white: the Chuckie boy. Both are studying the door to the room that they have just left, for on the outside is writ the words in big block letters: Banned Loon.
DONNA (eye twitching)
Oi, that's a right bit flattering lot to put on a door with me behind it.
CHUCK (thinking)
I don't think it means what it appears to mean.
DONNA (shouting)
Of course it doesn't, it's rubbish. Do I look like a right loon to you?
The figure in white opens his mouth to answer, then snaps his jaws shut, realising what he is about to say. Chuck seems to be suffering to find the right words, and ends up taking too long to answer. He realises this and he flushes about the neck and ears.
DONNA
Oh bullocks, we're back to this again.
Chuck remains silent.
DONNA
Ok then, how about something you can answer. Where are we?
At last the figure seems to edge up, something he's better at dealing with. Non-social facts.
CHUCK
We're in the abstract. I said that already.
DONNA (frustrated)
That's not an answer, you might as well say I don't know.
CHUCK
No, that's not fair, it's... erm.
DONNA
Listen up, Charlie man, I may not be able to comprehend all of the stuff locked up in me head, but I know enough to sense when something's rubbish. I told you I wanted to get back home, to get out of wherever here is. You say we can't go back, and I get that bit about not being able to be un-imagined, but it sounds more to me like you have memorised a bunch of stuff, but you don't understand any of it. Not really.
At this point, rather than being down-trodden, there was an actual heat in the figure's soft grey eyes, something like the confidence in reciting what he knew. Defending that knowing was stemming from the same source.
CHUCK
I do so understand, I understand that I'm here, in this place. I understand that the here is not exactly reality as we know it. This is not a region of the known-universe. You cannot get here through a time-vortex. I understand that I had to become unreal to get here, Donna Noble. And I understand enough of what you are and why I'm here that you had to be found.
Donna seems on the cusp of a tart retort, but holds back at the last, seeing the state of the figure rather than just reacting. It's as if something from within, something Doctorish has reached out and stilled her tongue. It's reaching out from within her, making her quiet so that she might hear... What? Hear What? Donna looks around dazed for a moment, and just then a series of memories from out of the past pulse back to her unbidden.
--
Donna and the New Doctor stand in the TARDIS, the latter has just finished regenerating.
DONNA
But why me?
NEW DOCTOR (like it's obvious)
Cos you're special.
DONNA
Oh, I keep telling you, I'm not!
NEW DOCTOR (looking at her as if he's just understanding)
No, but you are. Oh. You really don't believe that, do you? I can see, Donna... what you're thinking. All that attitude. All that lip. Cos all this time... you think you're not worth it.
DONNA
Stop it!
NEW DOCTOR
Shouting at the world, cos no-one's listening. Well... why should they?
DONNA
Doctor. Stop it.
NEW DOCTOR (proudly)
But look at what you did!
The new Doctor thinks for a moment.
NEW DOCTOR
No, it's more than that, it's like... we were always heading for this.
Flashback: Donna appearing in the TARDIS on her wedding day.
NEW DOCTOR
You came to the TARDIS.
Another flashback: seeing each other in the Adipose building.
NEW DOCTOR (voice over)
And you found me again.
Flashback: Wilf saluting the Doctor during Voyage of the Damned.
NEW DOCTOR (voice over)
Your granddad.
Flashback: Donna opening the boot of her car, parked near the TARDIS.
NEW DOCTOR (voice over)
Your car!
Flashbacks end.
NEW DOCTOR
Donna, your car, you-you parked your car right where the TARDIS was gonna land, that's not coincidence at all! We've been blind. Something's been drawing us together for such a long time.
DONNA
But you're talking, like... destiny. There's no such thing, is there?
NEW DOCTOR
It's still not finished. It's like... the pattern's not complete, the strands are still drawing together. But heading for what?
There is a wining sound coming from the central control column. Donna and the new Doctor move to observe it.
NEW DOCTOR
Oh, clever.
DONNA
What?
NEW DOCTOR
Very clever indeed.
DONNA
Doctor!
NEW DOCTOR
Donna, listen to me very carefully. Someone's been skewing the timelines.
DONNA
What does that mean?
NEW DOCTOR
The Vortex has been manipulated, that which is linked to all of time and space. The TARDIS hasn't been able to pick it up till now, but now that we're in the Medusa Cascade, phased out of sync with normal reality, it's all become obvious. The TARDIS can sense it now.
DONNA
Like finding your shadow when you step into a lit room from out of a darkened corridor?
NEW DOCTOR
Exactly! The Vortex doesn't touch this place, it's not connected to normal space-time, hence being out of sync. Outside the Vortex, we can read the Vortex objectively. However, the TARDIS shouldn't have even been able to reach here, since it only travels through the Vortex.
DONNA
So then how did we get here, I thought we just followed the signal?
NEW DOCTOR
We did, but that wouldn't have been enough on it's own. Once these areas are sealed off, these pockets of unique space-time, they are essentially time-locked, the natural rules of the Vortex prevent us from reaching here... unless someone bent the rules.
DONNA
Like who or whatever's been guiding our destinies for us?
NEW DOCTOR
Exactly.
DONNA
So what do we do now that the TARDIS can sense the meddling?
NEW DOCTOR
Well, ugh, we don't do anything. Whoever has been influencing events has led us this far, we'll do whatever we can, and let them do whatever they can, and we'll see what happens.
DONNA
But I thought we were beyond the Vortex, how can anyone still meddle?
NEW DOCTOR
Oh, Donna. Just because we're in a place that we can sense the meddling of the timelines in normal space-time, doesn't mean there isn't any meddling here. In fact, it should be easier here, lot less bits of stuff to manage. All of existence versus a little pocket realm, which is simpler?
DONNA
So it's easier for our fates to be manipulated here?
NEW DOCTOR
Yup.
DONNA
And because we're here and not in normal reality, we have no way of detecting these manipulations here, just like we cant sense the manipulations in normal reality, when we're in that normal reality.
NEW DOCTOR
Yup.
DONNA (sarcastic)
Stellar.
--
Donna now has a hand placed firmly on her forehead, leaning against a white wall, heaving a sigh as the assailing visions leave her.
CHUCK
Are you all right?
DONNA
Do I look all right?
CHUCK (reddens)
...
DONNA
Ugh, nevermind suit-boy. It's gone now, whatever it was.
CHUCK
I'm glad.
DONNA
I am too. Now, let's move on, I'm tired of all this white, reminds me too much of my wedding.
CHUCK (alarmed)
You're married?!
DONNA (amused but weary)
Yes. No. Both. Was married, kinda, real nice bloke, tried to feed me to a Racnoss.
CHUCK
Hrm, that bit isn't in the histories.
DONNA
Histories? So you're... No, nevermind, I said I didn't want to know, I just wanted to get out, and I meant it.
CHUCK
Sigh, fair enough. Well we can't go back, so we may have to go forward. But...
The figure looks left and then right, before looking back at the door with the writing on it.
CHUCK
Banned Loon. Hmmm.
DONNA
Oi, leave off, eh.
CHUCK
Banned Loon, Donna Noble.
DONNA
I said leave off!
CHUCK
Donna Noble, Banned Loon. Banned Loon, Donna Noble.
DONNA
That's it, one more time and we'll see whose going to be banned.
CHUCK (sighing)
No, that's not what I meant, it's like... Well, I think it's an anagram.
There is a distinct twitch to Donna's eye again as she gets what he is (or at least trying to) say.
DONNA
The letters in my name, scrambled up are what's written on that door?
CHUCK
As best as I can tell, yes. Banned Loon is an anagram of Donna Noble.
Donna is wearing a brittle smile at this realization.
DONNA
Someone's got a cruel mind for labelling doors.
CHUCK (surprised)
Really? It makes sense doesn't it, though, writing your name on the door that you're behind?
DONNA
No, it does not. And no, that is not my name on the door.
CHUCK
Well, I admit, it's a bit unnecessarily elaborate. But Banned Loon, Donna Noble, it's still about the same.
Donna starts to glare at the figure, but then gives up rolling her eyes when she sees that lost look on his face again. Some people in this world just don't get it.
DONNA (grabbing the figure by the arm and dragging him along)
Nevermind, off we go.
CHUCK
Hey, wait, where are we going? I hadn't finished with that.
DONNA
We're going right, and yes you have!
CHUCK
Why right?
DONNA
Figure it out.
As Chuck was being pulled along, his brows were knit in thought; only able to grasp at, 'cos it's the right way?' After several metres lost in thought, Chuck notices more writing in the halls. Rather, there are many doors in this very long and pale hallway. He sees 'A Flasher Mottle,' 'Erst, I Sin,' and 'I, Anther.' Looking over his shoulder to the other wall reveals: 'Whither Face,' 'Both Flawed,' 'Irish Quotient' and 'Hem Knot.' Chuck is just about to protest their leavings because he wants to examine opposing doors labelled 'A Vandal Armorer Untrod,' and 'I, Sum Orb,' when he hears it again. The thumping, it's the heartlike thumping of the Drones. The thumping begins again, this time even he can feel it. Thump. Thump. Thump.
--
DOCTOR
How does a Vortex bleed?
CAAN
Like that!
Caan raises his tentacle and points back at the Vortex.
DOCTOR
No, I get that bit, and I have most of the Doctor's memories in me, one way or another, but there's nothing about bleeding Vortices.
CAAN
Not that kind of bleeding. It's the timelines, they are all bleeding into eachother.
DOCTOR
Oh! That's brilliant. The Vortex is often like a maddeningly awesome painting; real art. Confusing as all-get-out mind you, but still all so alive and vibrant. But now the Vortex, it's colours have been washed out, there's a blurring, the colours and pieces are running together.
CAAN
Precisely. The colours are bleeding together, leaving only that heinous crimson splotch. Mixed Time.
DOCTOR
Oh, I'm good, very good.
CAAN
What? How are you good? I'm the one who fell through time, saw it all.
DOCTOR
Yeah well, only cause I made you do it.
CAAN
So the worlds, nigh, the universe is about to end (again) and you are blithing over who get's credit for figuring out that it is ending (again?)
DOCTOR
Well... yeah, that about sums it up old buddy. I mean we Doctors did most of the work, the sketching and colouring if you will. While you, well you're just a tracer.
CAAN
Explain.
DOCTOR
You know, like you have the simple task of outlining things, while we did the rest. And I might add, we did a smashing job of it.
CAAN
By altering the timelines, I've saved the universe from a half hundred dire destinies. What have you done?
DOCTOR (wearing a smug grin)
Let's see, ten incarnations, saving trillions of people in trillions of times, gee, how can that possibly compare to you.
CAAN
No, that was the real Doctor. What have you done?
DOCTOR (grinning madly)
Well, now me, since anything I did was erased when you changed the timelines, all I've done is survive spending a great deal of time with you old buddy. My sole companion is one mad little Dalek, who just might have mucked up all the universe in trying to save it, and I don't even get to travel anywhere else beyond this fetid purgatory. Face it, Caan, compared to you and the 'real' Doctor, I'm a hero. I deserve a medal or something, maybe I should petition the Crystal Guardian.
CAAN (rubbing his little Dalek temple with a little Dalek tentacle)
And to think you, you, who used to be known as the Dark Doctor; that you, who of all people was feared across eons and cosmoses for your mercy; and that you who was the Good Doctor, with the Good Medicine which saw a million worlds cauterised; you, who now sits here (a temporal shadow of a future that never was, having found laughter again somewhere along the way,) was all this, and now all you can do is prattle.
DOCTOR
Beautiful isn't it? Redemption can be found for us all Caan, it's what I'd forgotten. 'Sides, could be worse, I could be prattling about me prattling., 'course who would ever do that?
The Doctor who is not the Doctor grins at the Dalek, knowing that he's won this round. However, for knowing all that, he is still not in the knowing for that even as the ugly crimson flower blazes overhead in the Vortex, several smaller crimson blooms appear behind the Doctor and the Dalek. Those blooms are the mark of red-shifts (transdimensional travel technology powered by ultrared wavelengths or UR-T3s.) Something new had come to the outer rim of the Dragon's eye, and it was using technology thought extinct in the Time War.
--