Chapter 4: Being Decent
It had been Jack's idea to split up. The island was only about 160 kilometers across, so a temple couldn't be that hard to find, especially since they'd already begun to strip the island bare. By the 1700s, they would have torn down all of their forests, and their civilization would dwindle to just a couple thousand survivors slowly starving to death.
Jack often wondered what the Doctor had ever seen in the human species. Spreading like viruses, destroying their own environment, then simply moving on to conquer another planet when they were done. Making deals with the devil whenever they needed to get ahead.
He counted himself among the worst the human race had to offer these days.
Yet the Doctor kept coming back, back to Earth, back to him. Although, considering what the last Time Lord Jack had met did to the planet, to the very timeline itself, not to mention the physical and psychological hell he'd personally inflicted on him and the Doctor, Jack could understand why he rarely talked about his people.
Especially now that they were all gone. Maybe humans could be considered at least a small sort of comfort in comparison.
That didn't mean they could be trusted, despite what the Doctor often seemed to think. Which was why Jack had set off on his own to track the Doctor's mysterious new lover across the island.
He'd been here before. Recently, actually, after losing everything that mattered, back when he thought traveling alone might help him forget. But it didn't. This planet had become a tomb. Every kiss reminded him of Ianto, the lover Jack had led to his death. And every smiling child reminded him of Steven, his grandson, his own sacrifice to the devil, and of Alice's cold, accusing stare.
He rubbed his face and sighed. What was he even doing here? Traveling with the Doctor was a privilege, a gift, one he no longer deserved. If he had any decency he would have refused, let the Doctor go off on his adventure with two people he obviously seemed to care about very deeply.
But no one would ever accuse Jack of being decent.
So he'd appointed himself the bad cop, who'd do whatever the Doctor wouldn't, or couldn't, because it wasn't as if he didn't deserve the Doctor's condemnation already. Might as well take advantage.
River glanced back far too often as he followed her through the forest. There were too many clearings, bare patches where the palms had been cleared away to leave bare rock. And primitive quarries, where they had already begun to mine the island for stone, though he had yet to see any Moai. Probably too early.
He didn't have many places to hide as he tracked her, but then, that also meant she had fewer chances to slip away.
Suddenly, River gasped, and Jack froze, hidden behind a tree. He could hear her panicked breathing, was tempted to break cover and check to see if she was ok. Whether Jack trusted her or not, she was important to the Doctor, so he'd do anything to protect her.
"This is our planet," Jack heard a low, monotone voice demand. "We will not allow them to challenge our power. You will guide him to where he needs to go. Where he wants to go."
"And where exactly is that?" River asked shakily, trying not to sound frightened.
"You know, and you will remember. Where the ground meets the fire and the sky."
"Don't you dare hurt him," River hissed.
And then Jack stepped out from behind the tree, gun aimed directly at the alien's bulbous grey head. "Don't move!" Jack shouted in his most authoritarian voice. "River, are you all right?"
"I've seen them before Jack. I know I have."
The alien held its arm up, began to crackle with energy. "You will not harm us."
Jack gave him a cold smile. "You obviously don't know me very well."
"I do know you, all of you. This planet is ours. But you will forget me, like all others of your kind," the alien said, backing away into the shadows. "And your mistrust of each other will keep you from discovering our true nature."
Jack began to fire, pulling the trigger again and again, kept firing even after the revolver was empty.
"Captain, what the hell do you think you're doing?" River said, grasping his shoulder.
He turned to her, his breathing rapid. "Didn't you..." he began, lowering the gun. "I mean, wasn't there... Actually, I don't know."
The Doctor had always enjoyed a good traipse through the jungle. Lots of fun, that. Especially with Fitz.
Now there was a good bloke to share an adventure with. He'd almost forgotten. It was all jokes and teasing and excitement. Fitz always had that same insatiable need for new sensations, new experiences, and now that he had him back for a bit the Doctor thought it might be a good chance to have some fun together. Maybe go off on a few adventures, just the two of them, and they could finally simply enjoy themselves again, like they had before the first Time War had made everything so complicated.
When Jack had suggested they split up, Fitz had been the only one to argue, saying there was no way he'd let the Doctor out of his sight. Instead of being annoyed, the Doctor was touched. There was quite a lot Fitz get away with that nobody else could. He'd earned that right, long ago.
And yet here he was, same old Fitz, a bit out of breath, but still cheerfully trekking through the tangled forest, climbing a volcano at his side. All while singing his way through Sgt. Pepper.
The Doctor joined him to sing "With a Little Help From My Friends," one of his favorites, and held his hand as they made their way up a particularly treacherous slope. "Almost there!" the Doctor said brightly as they scrambled up the last bit.
"Just, just gimme a sec, Doc," Fitz wheezed, slowing down. "Not as young as I used to be. And all the cigarettes probably haven't helped either. Funny, guess I always thought you'd be around to find a cure."
"A cure for what?" the Doctor asked with concern, guiding Fitz to sit beside him on a fallen log.
Fitz took a few deep breaths and held his chest, wincing. "They say it's emphysema. Just a touch, mind you. Just the start. All those unfiltered Woodbines and all. Spent so many years traveling with you, I never though I'd live long enough to get sick."
"Oh, Fitz," the Doctor said softly, squeezing Fitz's hands in both of his. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Telling you now, aren't I?" Fitz said in a quiet, serious voice. "Only found out for certain a few months ago. Still don't need oxygen, not yet."
The Doctor had already pulled his stethoscope out of his pocket, slipping it under Fitz's dirty t-shirt. He sounded terrible, like he couldn't get all the air out of his lungs. Rattling around in there with every breath. Still, shouldn't get really bad for a few more years. He hoped.
But the Doctor wouldn't let it get to that. Not for Fitz, not after everything he'd sacrificed for the Doctor. Everything they'd been through together. The Doctor still remembered all those times he'd been hurt, sick, bedridden, and Fitz had taken care of him. Always at his bedside, playing music and telling stories. No. There was absolutely no way he was letting Fitz go through this alone. Not when there were hospitals out there in space and time that could make Fitz better. Well, that settled it. There was no way he was leaving Fitz behind at the end of this little adventure.
"How long have you felt symptoms?" the Doctor asked, putting his stethoscope away.
Fitz shrugged, in that casual way he always affected when he needed to handle terrible news. "I've always been out of breath, haven't I? Even back when we were together. Would have thought the TARDIS had fixed that when she remade me, but then I've probably smoked enough to wreck my lungs all over again."
"You're not still smoking, are you?"
He gave him a wry smile before he replied. "I've cut down."
"Fitz!"
"Hey, I'm rubbish at taking care of myself, remember?"
The Doctor sighed, then pulled Fitz in for a hug. "Yeah, I remember. Always better at taking care of everyone else, if I recall."
Fitz chuckled, held the Doctor even tighter.
"Well, that's fine," the Doctor said, pulling away just far enough to look into Fitz's eyes. "Cos from now on I'll be taking care of you, all right? When this is over, you're coming with me. And I'll make you all better, and we can have a quite a lot of adventures before you finally get sick of me again."
"Naw, Doc. I'll never get sick of you."
The Doctor smiled and pressed his forehead against Fitz. "Then that just means we'll get to spend even longer together, yeah?"
"Yeah," Fitz whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Yeah it does."
The view from the top was bloody gorgeous. The whole island spread below them, jungle and cleared scrubland and stone quarries dotting the landscape, with villages and little hamlets of four or five stone houses all along the coastline.
"This is Poike, the second highest point on the island of Rapa Nui, or Easter Island as they called it in cheery old England by your time."
"Lemme guess," Fitz said, pointing at the distant peak at the center of the island. "That's the highest."
The Doctor smiled and took out a pair of fancy opera glasses. "That is the Volcano Terevaca, highest point around. And that's where we're headed, in the next couple of days. It'll be a hell of a long walk, but worth it. Cos look-"
He handed the opera glasses to Fitz, and pointed out a shimmering shape just barely visible at the edge of the volcano.
A pyramid.
"What the bloody hell is a pyramid doing here?"
"Exactly, Fitz. What is a pyramid doing here? Don't you want to find out?"
"Yeah, why not?" Fitz said with a smile, handing the Doctor his opera glasses. "Got nothing better to do with myself. But do we really have to walk? Can't we just take the TARDIS?"
The Doctor shook his head. "If that's who I think it is, we don't want to bring the TARDIS anywhere near there. But speaking of the old girl, I think you and I need to pay her a quick visit."
"There was this one time when she actually became a woman. Sexy, mad, and absolutely brilliant. And a woman! I still dream of her sometimes. She's wearing a wrecked Victorian party dress. We dance at the edge of an ocean of time, and it's beautiful."
"Sorry I missed it," Fitz said, caressing the central column.
"Oh, she's still in there," the Doctor said, sounding wistful. "Somewhere, tucked away in the blue box, still listening. Still helping."
"Course she is," Fitz said softly, and smiled. "So, Doctor, I could just about murder a cup of tea..."
"Brilliant idea," the Doctor said. "Take him to the kitchen, old girl. There's something I need to collect."
The Doctor dashed down the corridor to the left, still talking as he went. "Should be upstairs, I think. Would you believe it looks like the one in Kent again this time around?"
Fitz took a moment, alone in the console room for the first time in years. He trailed his hands over the controls, simply stroking them. "So nice to be home, love. You been taking care of him for me?"
The TARDIS almost seemed to purr with contentment as Fitz touched her. He sighed. If he was honest with himself, he missed the TARDIS as much he missed the Doctor. Fitz and the TARDIS had been through a hell of a lot together. And she'd always taken care of him. It had almost been like having a mum again, like having his mum back when she'd been young and not quite so mad as she became. When she had taken care of him instead of the other way around, before all the hospitals, and the years in foster care. Before his dad had died. Back when she'd been happiest, despite the bombings, and the rationing, and the shame of being married to a German bloke in the middle of World War II.
Fitz sighed and reluctantly left the control room. The kitchen was the first door on the right, left open and waiting for him, like an invitation.
"Thanks, love," he said with wide grin.
The Doctor had been right. It looked just like the kitchen back in the house in Kent, where they once spent several gorgeous months living a normal life, just the two of them. Growing roses, making dinner together every night, reading in the garden, staying out too late at the pub and spending the next day lazing in bed. Fitz smiled at the big old-fashioned refrigerator, the wooden cabinets, the simulated view of the backyard. He grabbed a couple of teacups drying next to the sink and put the kettle on.
By the time the tea was ready, the Doctor had come back, and they sat together and enjoyed some nice Earl Grey with lots of milk and sugar. For a while they simply talked about tea, reminiscing about cuppas they'd shared on bizarre future colonies, or in fancy drawing rooms in the 17th century.
It was a hell of a life he'd led, thanks to the Doctor.
Fitz sighed and leaned back in the chair, rather content. "It's a nice renovation, Doc. I like it. Still prefer the old one, though, with all the candles and stone."
"Oh, but that was so gothic! This one is cool, very Jules Verne."
"It's pretty shiny, I'll give you that."
The Doctor stood up suddenly. "Right. Well, come on then, enough dawdling about. Things to do, after all."
Fitz smiled and joined him. "Sure thing, Doctor."
The Doctor took his hand, but instead of leading him to the console room, took him down a corridor deeper inside, into the wardrobe.
"Hey, it got even bigger!" Fitz said with a laugh, dashing inside. It had a different feel than the rest of the TARDIS, all organic looking, with flowing coral-like columns and metal grating. There was a big spiral staircase that just kept going up and up, with circular racks of clothes from every time period he could imagine, and some that fit in none, all out of order. A glorious mess. He ran his hands across the clothes, wearing a huge, excited grin.
"I have two things for you, Fitz," the Doctor said, following Fitz inside. He leaned on one of the columns and dug into his pocket, pulling out what looked like a small asthma inhaler. The Doctor gave it to him, then held Fitz's hand in both of his for a moment, wearing a serious expression.
Fitz did his best to meet the Doctor's gaze.
"This'll help," the Doctor said quietly. "It's not a cure, that'll have to wait until we get you to a specialist, and I have a few in mind, but it will help. Twice a day, morning and night, and just once anytime you start having trouble breathing. But you have to promise me, Fitz. No more cigarettes."
"Doctor..." Fitz said, and looked away, feeling embarrassed.
The Doctor held his chin and forced Fitz to meet his glare. "I mean it Fitz. I refuse to watch you continue to destroy yourself. You're too important to me."
"All right, Doctor. I promise."
"Lovely!" the Doctor said, all smiles once again as he twirled over to one of a rack of clothes. "Now, I've got something else for you."
Fitz shoved the inhaler in his pocket, purposely crushing it against his half-empty pack of cigarettes, and went to join the Doctor as he pulled out a very familiar jacket.
"Hey, that's mine!" Fitz said with a grin. "Was mine. Got a new one now, but left it at the bar back in London."
The Doctor placed it on Fitz's shoulders. "I wore it for a whole lifetime, once."
Fitz turned his head to look back at the Doctor, who had a distant look in his eyes, as though he didn't realize he was standing behind him, holding on to Fitz's shoulders.
He remembered that final day they'd spent together. Things had all gone wrong. They'd barely escaped the Nightmare Child. Fitz was pretty sure they were the only ones who had. And afterward the Doctor had stood shaking at the console, laughing like a desperate madman. That terrifying laughter that Fitz still sometimes dreamed about, as though the Time War had broken something inside him. But really it had been broken even before then, ever since he'd lost Alex and Lucie. When he'd come back to Fitz, he'd already been a shattered shell of himself, tortured by grief and guilt. And Fitz had decided to come along with him whether the Doctor wanted it or not. How could they have guessed what lay ahead?
Fitz had touched the Doctor's shoulder tentatively as he laughed, more than a little afraid of him, of who he was becoming. Cos Fitz loved the Doctor, always, no matter what he'd done or ever would, but he'd slid further down the slope, breaking his own rules, falling deeper into the chaos all around them as they all tried in vain to escape the Time War.
Fitz had wondered how far he could fall before he was no longer the Doctor anymore, no longer the only hero he'd ever believed in. And instead became a mad god unleashed upon the universe, leaving nothing but devastation in his wake.
Then they heard the knock. Four times, on the door. The Doctor had turned, a look of fear on his face. He'd still gone to the door and opened it slowly. Fitz could see the swirling vortex just outside, protected by the TARDIS from the time winds that would have otherwise torn him apart. A glowing white cube flew into the console room.
A hypercube.
The Doctor grabbed it and gasped, pressing the hypercube to his forehead. "No," he whispered and fell to his knees.
Fitz closed the door behind them. A message from the Time Lords. Nothing good ever came from that.
"Who's it from?" Fitz asked gently, crouching down beside him.
The Doctor had looked up at him, tears already trailing down his cheeks. "It's from Brax. He's saying good bye. Romana's been deposed, and they're about to execute him. Rassilon's already done it. I can't... There's nothing I can do."
Braxiatel. The Doctor's brother. Bit of a condescending sod, yeah, but one of the good ones. Brax had been kind to Fitz, when very few Time Lords had treated him as anything more than an annoying pet, except for the Master, of course, who looked at him like he wanted to tear Fitz apart and shag every inch of him.
Brax was manipulative, cloying, and an unabashed liar. With an excellent dry sense of humor. One of the only people Fitz had ever known who was quite possibly smarter than the Doctor. Brax had teased his younger brother mercilessly, and ran circles around him as he plotted behind the scenes, a powerful Cardinal with connections all across the High Council. A good man at the center of power. And if they'd killed him, then there was no going back. Gallifrey had just made a terrible enemy.
The Doctor had hugged his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth in a way that usually meant he couldn't bear to be touched. But he looked so cold in his ragged shirtsleeves that Fitz had taken off his jacket and draped it on the Doctor's shoulders, whispering that he was so sorry again and again. The Doctor leaned into his touch, let himself be hugged, and they'd both wept for a long time. After that, Fitz's memory got fuzzy, so things must have gotten really bad with the timelines. But he did remember the Doctor dropping him off on Earth. Pushing Fitz out the door despite his pleading, in one of those pathetic melodramatic scenes that always made him feel like a loser. Sobbing as he begged the Doctor not to leave him behind, the Doctor ignoring his cries as he dragged him out of the TARDIS and onto that damned beach in Brighton. As he walked back to the TARDIS, the Doctor had still been wearing that same battered leather jacket.
But that had all been long ago. Lifetimes ago. Now, the Doctor was hugging him once again, this new Doctor, who was funny and playful, not shattered or desperate, and it felt bloody wonderful.
River said very little as they walked back to the village. She was like a different person away from the Doctor, harsh, driven, even dangerous. Jack could relate. The Doctor had the gift of bringing out the best in people.
It was already mid-afternoon by the time they got back, and the Ariki was waiting for them, with a group of warrior, spears at the ready.
"Great, just what we needed," Jack muttered.
River shot him a glare and stepped forward, fearless, a little smile on her face. "Hello, Ariki. Sorry to interrupt, but have you seen the Doctor."
"He has not returned," the Ariki replied, wearing a slightly glazed expression. Something was definitely wrong here. Jack was glad he'd brought that extra ammo.
He pulled out his revolver. "What have you done with him?"
"Captain," River said in a carefully controlled voice. "Put that away before I take it away."
"I'd like to see you try," he replied, aiming straight at the Ariki.
Much to his surprise, River somehow spun around faster than he could react, taking his gun and pushing him to the ground with a single graceful movement. She twisted his arm behind him and he gritted his teeth against the pain.
"Now, Captain, I know you've traveled with the Doctor, so I would have thought you'd have already learned to play nice with the locals," River said in a sweet voice, punctuating every other word by wrenching his arm further back, until Jack finally cried out in agony.
"All right," he yelled. "I get it! Just let me go."
She was off him in an instant, but kept his revolver for herself. Jack glared, but decided not to press the matter. For now.
The Ariki gestured to the warriors, who lowered their weapons. A short, ancient woman with tattoos lining her face stepped up to River. She cupped River's face in her hands and whispered in her ear.
"You have been chosen for a great blessing, River Goddess," the Ariki said. "The Ivi Atua has agreed to teach you the ritual of the Mother."
"I'm honored," River said quietly.
"You must come with me tonight," the Ivi Atua said. "The ceremony must begin before evening falls, and the journey to the sacred cave is treacherous."
River bowed her head in deference. "Thank you," she said with feeling. "Let me say farewell to my companion."
She turned toward Jack, embracing him.
"Stay here until the Doctor gets back," she said, speaking softly, practically whispering. "Tell him not to follow me under any circumstances. This ritual is one of the main reasons I came here in the first place, and if he ruins it... Well. Just tell him I'll be very displeased."
"I'm not you're messenger," Jack hissed.
"I know you have no reason to trust me," she whispered in his ear. "But there are more important things happening on this island than you or I. By now, the Doctor will have figured that out. Just tell him to meet me at Ovahe, below the cliffs, at the edge of the ocean. At dawn. And tell him to come alone."
"What makes you think he'll agree to that?"
"He will," she said, and smiled.
Then she let herself be led away. Jack watched them go before turning back to the Ariki. The warriors were still there, pointing their spears directly at Jack.
He raised his hands and gave them his most charming smile. "Sorry for any misunderstanding."
Jack felt a burst of pain and gasped, surprised to see a spear piercing his chest. He fell to his knees, blood spreading everywhere.
"We must have a sacrifice for the ritual of the Mother," the Ariki said, unsmiling.
Jack felt his lung collapsed, filling with blood from the tear in his heart. The warrior had been precise, a calculated killer. At least it wouldn't take long. Jack tumbled to the dusty ground, and everything went dark.