A/N:Hello everyone. Starting this off, I want to extend thanks for the new "Favorite Story" listing to dillon2 and for the "story Alert" to Shadowgal ANBU. Then there are my reviewers, such wonderful lovely people who take the time to tell me what they think about this wild mutant plot-bunny childe, My Reflection, OtherMeWriter and mirth513. You know I am forever grateful to know what you think.
Who was the mysterious gent that Riddick saw a flash of? Eventually you will know. If I have you guessing at this point then I've done my job well. Yes, I just had to put that scene with Mal in there, I had no idea how old he was, and I love the show. I guess I just never paid attention to when he was born. Now I have to decide if I'm doing Zoe or Wash or Book next… I decided on Zoe... heh.

Summary: The Doctor, reeling from the effects of the TimeWar as the last surviving TimeLord, stumbled into a situation he could not ignore when the TARDIS landed him inside a ship that was clearly in trouble. After the rescue, he's left with eight survivors that he must somehow get to safety. But the situation is not as cut and dry as he might like. His people may be gone, but the stamp he's made on the universe is still there, and he finds himself caught in a web spun of the choices he's made in the past…

It's 2517. Something in history has prompted humanity to explode out from their home world. Could the events of 2164 be responsible? Was Earth a myth or was it real? In fleeing Earth-that-Was, humanity scattered to the stars across the galactic arm. Initial survey teams targeted likely planets and systems for habitation and not all of them ended up on the same side of the sector. Blue Sun exists on one side, separated by a patch of 'wild space' filled with exotic binary and triple star systems, from the rest of civilized space.

Few ships brave the route. But luck had it that one ship did. Risking a ghost run, the only contact that the two sides have, the Hunter-Gratzner crashed midway through the journey. Original Port of Departure: Eavesdown Docks, Persephone. Mixed Sino-Anglo culture. Original Port of Call: Tangiers-5. Darkside. Mixed Islamic-Anglo culture. Crew complement: Four. Passengers: Forty. Living 'Cargo': Two. Survivors: Eight plus One

So what happens to Dr. Simon Tam, his brilliant but damaged sister, a convicted murder by the name of Richard B. Riddick, and the other survivors from the crash of the Hunter-Gratzner at planet M-344/G-2 now that they are on their way home? They end up slightly out of their own Time, on a ship filled with living sculptures… And just how is this related to the TimeWar?

A Doctor Who / Firefly / Riddick crossover.

Features Doctor 9, Pre-"Rose"; Simon and River Tam, Pre-"Serenity" Firefly episode 1 and the survivors from Pitch Black: Carolyn Fry, William J. Johns, Imam Abu al'Walid, 'Jack B. Badd', Ali Abdullah, and Richard B. Riddick…

Doctor Who and the Ties that Bind.

Part Eight

Impend

River Tam opened her eyes and carefully wiggled out of the center of the pile, allowing Ali and Jack to scoot closer together. While she was cool outside the space blanket, she was roasting inside it. She looked over the calm auras of those sleeping, deep red embers, grayish clouds, and peaceful tans… but the Doctor's aura was boiling, rolling blackish foam filled with lighting sparks. She blinks at that, startled by the contrast not only of the auras but also his external appearance. Looking at the Time Lord's face reveals nothing to her, as it seems peaceful. She knows, however, that he is not.

Walking silently, the wispy teen moves over to the pale man and focuses on the bronze hand that he is loosely holding. The man that the hand belongs to is not an ordinary human. His senses are better than even hers is by way of smell and hearing. She suspects there are things about him that he doesn't even know. It's a mystery, a puzzle… the filaments connect him now, to her and Simon as well as the storm and the golden Lady. And there is an additional loose tie still. Like her, he's opening up inside his mind, filling a space that was empty. But unlike her, his mind does this behind a crystal wall that keeps it internal. He knows things and yet he doesn't. And she can't just accidentally read his thoughts because he is shielded.

She cocks her head, letting her hair tickle the back of the joined hands as she kneels there. The Doctor is not sleeping, she knows.

"Come on, River," he says without opening his eyes as he lifts one elbow in invitation.

She smiles and tucks herself into his lap, under his chin and arm, somehow managing to fold into the space without alerting the ex-ranger to her presence. She tugs the cool arm back into place and lets the calculations from his mind flow into her. He begins softly speaking, letting her associate the images of the characters with the musical language and concepts, teaching her. She absorbs it like a sponge. This system of characters, runes, numbers, math and concepts that transcend culture, species, and time is as natural as breathing to her. This way of learning is more like her own internal system than anything she's ever encountered before.

What River is unaware of is that this is the same way the Doctor was taught, if only a more organic version of it. Brainbuffing, his people called it. Force-fed education usually followed by intensive reciting. But the Time Lord doesn't need for her to toss it back to him. For a change he uses his entire mind, his genius, to coach hers. If he can't kill the parasite then someone is going to have to take over. Thus far, River is the only one he's encountered that might be able to do it. And if he does manage to kill the doomsday agent, then River can help balance him, because, really, he's got too much power in his hands for any one individual to be wielding, even with the TARDIS blocking the bulk of it off.

Beside them, Riddick dreams of a place that he knows deep in his heart, although he can't recall ever being there. The double-sun world twines with images of a single orange star peaking through a cloudy sky. For some reason his mind insists that the places are connected, although he is positive that they cannot be. The faint music of someone male speaking or singing in a chant fills the wind he hears with an eerie 'homesick' sensation. It's not quite a nightmare, because the feeling is too faint to be totally distressing. His mind can see complex concepts, like a flowing book, or screen that is fluid rippling in the breeze. It's a web of chaining runes, a matrix of equations, an interconnecting weave of universal history expressed in science and complete surety. He understands the characters, can picture the related subjects and anticipate the next stanza of the chant. The knowledge sits deep in his psyche, like a foundation, strong and solid. He comprehends this. And he also realizes that he won't remember it with such crystal clarity in the morning, because it's hidden, secret, fundamental truth too dangerous to have floating through his conscious mind.

There's a disjointed flash.

The feel of the dream shifts to that of 'vision', becoming too clear, too real.

He struggles to retain the original flow of the dream, calling back the other visage for a moment before it is overwhelmed and it's torn from him like a sheet being ripped out of his hands to expose what exists beyond it.

Dark. Black. Space. Comet. Fleets of ships, disk-like. Ice falling from the sky, bright streaks of vapor against the night sky. War. An enemy that is not humanoid, but covered in rounded armor. Battle. Humanoid armored warriors marching and planting rods that produce glowing balls of concentrated gravity. Explosions. Fire. He knows this from both is own past visions and what he's seen in Thete's mind. The images twist together, even though they do not belong to the same set of events. They can't. Please let them not be.

There's a voice, masculine and feminine at the same time, that floods through the images 'You must reconcile the past.' He sees a flash of burning buildings beyond a doorway, a near wall of flame. A garden beyond holds pearl-gray roses, surrounding a triad of female statues with a sculpture shaped like 'Ω' in the middle of them. The voice blots out the image making it fade and twist, 'For he who bares the mark.' Unfocused, there's a familiar shape to the black blur on skin, it reminds him of a specific image but he resists actually forcing it into sharpness. Instead he begins to struggle with this vision, wanting it to end. There's a woman in front of him with multi-braided blonde hair that flows down her back in a wave of thick coils. She is dressed in burgundy dyed leather that molds to her figure. A navy blue deerskin cape is draped from her shoulders, half hiding the sword that hangs from her hip. It flutters behind her as she gains ground on him. A vulture circles. Her pale amber eyes are unlike anything he's ever seen before on anyone else. 'It is the will of Menti Celesti that you be the one to do this, Amadak.' He wants to back away from her, this strange glowing vision, even though he knows he has dealt with her before. This is Pain. He smells roses. The woman reaches for him, her hand covered with russet blood. As he fights the impending contact she begins to burn, flickering with hellish fire that causes her flesh, now stone, to crumble…

His eyes fly open.

For the longest timeless moment he can't recall where he is or who he is or why he's there. All he can feel is the disorientating sensation of being connected but not connected to the events of a past he can't remember. As the confusion fades he becomes aware of a secondary sensation – pain. His pulse throbs through his body so hard that every beat is an exercise in agony. Then this too dwindles away leaving him with concentrated discomfort centered on his temples. In spite his sudden pounding headache, he is sure that the female visage didn't get a chance to actually touch him. He tightens his grip on the hand holding his and shifts to lean more on the Time Lord. What did Pain want with him?

The fluttering tempo under his fingers calms him. He slowly begins breathing again; unsure of how long he's held his breath. The Doctor's hand squeezes back, telling him that his distress is known and that he's not alone. Rich blinks but does not fall back asleep. He does not want to give her the chance of tasking him with whatever horrors she thinks he must dish out. As far as he is concerned, Thete's paid for his crimes and now it's time to move on with life. So instead of sleep, he listens to that musical murmur and lets the tingle wash over his skin.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The transport ship, Alleyne, slid into high orbit to pick up shuttles from the planet below filled with soldiers for the Independent Movement. Nothing new in that, really. The war has yet to start, but the volunteers are already pouring in. The coffee-n-cream complexioned young woman settled down still yet another bundle of 'standard issue' gear for the troopers that will be filling these bunks until her father can deliver them for training. Each bunk gets bedding and nightclothes. The Independent officers handle uniforms and weapons. She's been through basic, was raised on it really, so this doesn't bother her much, although she's more used to seeing these bays filled with crates, not beds.

It's expected that she will go fight and send her pay back to cover the transport costs for the ship, like her other non-essential family old enough to carry a gun. She doesn't mind. Actually, if she has a commanding officer worth his salt, she might even learn something new. And if she don't she could always – shoot 'em. Politely, of course. She's been told that by the time this batch is out of basic and the first units deploy she'll be 'legal' to join up, even though she already has, by virtue of her father. He's a retired Marine from the other side of the galactic arm, in the region of Taurus who had come to Blue Sun thinking that the 'grass was greener' here. Maybe not, though? He refused to leave again, however, citing the fact that colonies on the other side of wild space had the strange habit of going 'missing'. At least here when a dirtball was settled it stayed that way unless something like war happened.

"They added another squad, we got room in here for them?" called her mother.

"We can make room, if we have the beds," answers her father. Several of the other family members flow into the room and begin shifting things to make the isles tighter so another row of bunks can be added. By the time they have the new ones set up Zoë is ready to put the bedding on them. "Efficient as usual." The dark skinned man pats her on the shoulder, "Hit your own bunk, young 'in. You have mess-hall duty at zero-six hundred for the troops."

"Yes sir. I love you, dad."

The man gave her a mischievous look, "Of course you do." She thwacked his arm and he relented, "I love you, Zoë."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

His dreams had been fairly peaceful as of late, even with the strange and dangerous situations that his waking life often found him in. But now, something dragged him out of his slumber, tenaciously ignoring his desire to stay sleeping. Thus, Jack woke with an odd tickling feeling driving him to distraction. An annoying sensation – down there. He just couldn't scratch it, because the location was not one that people normally touched while in the presence of others. And even behind the privacy screen, he wasn't going to risk it. What would the others think?

The lights were still low. River had moved leaving Ali curled up against him and a bit of space on the other side. Maybe if he just lay still? The sensation ramped up, building until he had to move. He wiggled out of the huddle and quietly darted to the toilet. Gah! This was going to make him crazy. Once behind the screen, Jack fidgeted and squirmed for a few moments before he decided to see of the cool air would help drive the sensation away. Even that made his toes curl. How was he supposed to act like a normal boy when his body was acting this way?

He needed help.

But whom could he turn to? The Imam was right out… no way he was going to attempt explaining what his problem was to the holy man. And that meant that Ali didn't need to know. Could he talk to a girl about this? Somehow he didn't think so. So Carolyn, nice as she was, and River, who might even understand about bodies not doing what you want them to, were both in the 'are you crazy' category. That left Johns, Riddick, Dr. Tam and the Doctor. There was no way in hell he'd tell the marshal anything about how he felt. He didn't trust the man, even if he was clean at the moment. The young doctor had been nice to him, had healed up the damage, made it better for a long time… but this sensation was that kind of needy feeling that medicine couldn't solve. And Jack thought the young man was just older and cute enough that he'd be tempted to try seducing him. No. Definitely not. Did he dare approach Riddick with this? Did he want to die? Heh, no. That left one person.

Would the Doctor have a way to help him?

He squirmed, feeling like he had insects crawling over his lower regions. Nearly every foul Chinese insult he knows floats through his brain. This was awful. He set his face, straightened his clothes and then stepped over to where the Doctor is now standing, watching the flashing colors from the cell across from them. River and Richard seem to be playing some sort of Rock-Paper-Scissors game quietly that has rules he can't begin to fathom. Jack chewed on his lip, "Um, Doctor?"

Those intense blue eyes turn away from the light show and toward him and the green-eyed boy shifts from foot to foot. The man is tall, taller than Riddick is, by a bit even. And he just oozes power. Then the pale gent sort of morphs as he crouches down, becoming totally approachable, "Hi Jack." His smile is shadowed but so wonderfully real. "Now why are you so antsy, eh?"

He can feel the hot blush moving up his face. "I've been told it's the sorta thing people don't talk about in polite society, sir," he whispers.

"Ah." The man looks thoughtful for a moment. He then puts on hand into the air palm up, "Can I touch your hand, Jack?" The boy hesitates, then puts his hand inside the Doctor's opened one. "Here, I'll explain as I do this, alright?" Jack nods. The blue-eyed hairless gent smiles at him again, reassuring him, "It's just a bit of pressure point manipulation. Something I picked up in my travels. Let's start here, on your wrist, yeah?" He rolls Jack's had over and cradles it in his own even while he rubs over the back of the boy's wrist with as soothing touch.

Jack is nervous, but he's willing to try anything to keep from seeking out things he knows he shouldn't want to do just to stop the maddening sensation he's feeling. The soft, cool skin over muscles unyielding in the form of fingers gently slid over his skin, locating specific spots with practiced ease before applying even intense pressure that is distracting enough to draw his attention away from the persistent tickling sensation. Jack relaxes even though he hadn't realized he was tense. After his nerves seem to adjust to the press of those deliberate digits, they begin to stroke across the center of his wrist with the same concentration. Jack lets out a breath as he becomes aware that the needy sensation is fading.. It feels so good to have his body free of the conditioned urges that he has to blink back tears.

The Doctor's other hand comes up and his fingers settle between Jack's thumb and index finger, "Okay, there?"

Jack just nods, totally relaxed with what is going on. The added pressure of a deep massaging stroke starts along the edge of his thumb and flows up into the fleshy part of his hand, chasing away the last of the twitching creeping of his skin. He's not sure why but once his hand is released he throws his arms around the man's neck and hugs him. "Thank you. Oh wow. Just – Thanks." He lets go, sitting on the floor, slightly embarrassed with his display.

The Time Lord catches the boy and cups his chin. "You are welcome, young man," he says with seriousness. "Anytime, within reason, that you need me to do this again, you just let me know, dong ma?" The Doctor finds himself with an armload of honey-haired child, hugging him like he's just given him the best present anyone could have. He can't quite hug the boy back because of the cuffs, but clearly Jack doesn't care. "You're not going to cry on me are you?"

Jack laughs quietly, "No, sir. I've never had anyone willing to just help me before. You've no idea how much it means to me. It's the most precious thing anyone's ever givin' me." He keeps his face and body pressed close, not willing to end the hug yet. He feels the man rest his head against his hair.

"Oh, I think I might have a few notions, Jack. Just a few." He is still cradling the boy when the lights start to come up. Another unknown has inserted itself into the 'revenge' list. If he ever comes across the bastard that abused Jack he'll rip the man apart, limb by bloody limb. No child should think kindness is a gift. It should be a given, that. Although he's still in front of the doorway, his attention has been on the youth the remainder of the night. The empty feeling he has inside threatens to spill over and consume everything he is. The boy is sleeping again, curled in his lap.

Richard moves up and peers over the Doctor's shoulder, "First River, now Jack. You have quite a way with children."

"Only damaged ones, I'm afraid. My own never listened to me much."

"You have kids?" Riddick settled down next to the Time Lord.

"I believe I did just say that, yes. Had, actually. They're gone now."

"I'm sorry about the loss. I don't think I could imagine that. Surviving your kids…"

The Doctor shrugs, "It's been a long while, I've had time to deal with it. I do miss them, sometimes. But then I stumble on a 'River' or a 'Jack' and I realize that things are not as bleak as I might want to believe. I'm not dead yet, Richard. Who knows what the future will bring?"

Riddick looks at the sleeping child, "He looks like a pixie, so innocent."

"They all look that way."

"You serious about leaving him at New Mecca?"

The deep blue eyes met silver, "Yes. He can't stay with me. He's still growing, Richard. Exposing him to even more foreign energies than he's been already will alter him in ways that I don't think he would want."

"He's not gonna like it."

"No."