The Doctor sat uncomfortably in the passenger seat of the SUV, his elbow propped against the lower edge of the door window, cheek resting against his fist. His usual talent of being able to inject light hearted banter into any situation failed him as every word he thought of turned to dust in his mouth. Even though he wasn't wearing handcuffs, he still felt like a prisoner. A prisoner on the way to his own execution, such was his dread of the task ahead of him.
He studied the scenery as it went, by, trying not to think about what he was going to do. A chain link fence surrounded a factory, its car park in disrepair, weeds growing up through cracks in the pavement, obviously abandoned. A pasture over grown and empty, the gate near the road, off its hinges and lying broken on the ground. Boards where the windows should have been, another shop closed up because of the failing economy. But there was also new construction, foundations being laid, workers busy operating heavy equipment . They passed a well maintained farm, green pastures and fat sheep, tended by a shepherd and his black and white border collie. Signs of hope, recovery. That's the way it was with humans, ever changing, as one thing fails and disappears, another inevitably takes its place. They always bounce back somehow. That's why they survived to the end of the universe when so many other races had failed.
The SUV lurched and bounced, breaking him out of his reverie, as Jack turned off onto a dirt track. Road was too grand a word for what they were driving down now. There was a steady thwack, thwack, thwack as grass that had grown up in between the twin ruts of the trail hit the front of the vehicle. The sound would have been irritating if it hadn't signaled a guarantee of privacy when they reached their destination. Soon Jack stopped the SUV about five meters from the cliff edge. "Will this do?" he asked the Doctor.
The Doctor stepped out of the vehicle and surveyed the area. There was the fresh sweet smell of grass mixed with the fishy, tangy smell of the sea below. He walked over to the cliff edge, the wet grass soaking his trainers and trouser cuffs. A quick glance over the edge let him know the tide was about to start going out. He smiled softly, excellent timing. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. The sun was warm on his face. A gentle breeze blew through his hair and made a rustling sound in the long grass. A feast for the senses. The last human would get a good sample of its species' planet of origin before it died.
The sound of car doors closing jarred against the natural back drop of the site as Jack and Ianto both exited the vehicle. The Doctor looked over at them as they approached. "Well?" Jack asked. "Is this what you had in mind."
"Yes, it should do just fine," replied the Doctor. He turned his back on them, walked over to a large boulder and sat down, pulling his coat around him, not against the mild wind, but against what he was about to do. He scanned the sky, no sign of the Toclafane. "Maybe it's changed its mind," he thought hopefully.
Jack and Ianto were standing a good distance away from him, talking quietly amongst themselves. He appreciated them giving him some space, a bit of privacy. He stared out over the horizon as he mentally ran through the steps needed to remove the Toclafane. He was going to have to be quick and sure in his movements if it was to have any time alive, free from the sphere. But if he did it correctly it should be almost free of pain as it died, a vast improvement on what it had felt in life. At least he hoped it would be.
"If you euthanized the last of a species, at a time when the planet you were on was teaming with that species, were you still committing genocide?" he wondered. Not a paradox but a dilemma only made possible only by time travel.
He was startled by a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, you're still alright with this aren't you?" Jack asked. "I could try to do it if you want."
"No, a Time Lord caused this, a Time Lord should end it. It's my responsibility," responded the Doctor. "I was just wondering if it is having second thoughts. I was expecting it to be waiting for us."
"I doubt it would have changed its mind. I know a lot about death," said Jack with a wry smile. "I would want to die free of that thing if it was me. More likely it got lost. Who knows if it can read a map or not."
As if on cue the Toclafane rose over the edge of the cliff. The Doctor had a sinking feeling in his chest. He had thought maybe he was going to get a reprieve or at least a delay to another day. He ran his hand through his hair as he thought about how to start. The rock he was sitting on could serve as a platform for the procedure. He hoped the wind and tide would remain favorable for what he wanted to do.
"Well Doctor, it looks like your patient has arrived," observed Jack in a voice far more cheery than the Doctor felt was appropriate. He favored him with a look of scathing disapproval which the captain shrugged away. The Doctor decided to ignore him and addressed the Toclafane.
"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" he asked.
"Yes, if I wait much longer I would die before you would be finished, right?"
"There's no way to know that for sure, but I suspect you are correct," the Doctor confirmed reluctantly.
"I'm ready then," said the Toclafane. "What should I do?"
"Can you set down here on this rock?"
Instead of answering, the Toclafane settled on the boulder. There was a click and whoosh as it opened the sphere. It closed its eyes as the sunlight caressed its face. "Thank you," it said to the Doctor. "This is better than the other place."
The Doctor swallowed hard and said nothing. He looked over at Jack and held out his hand for the sonic screwdriver. Thankfully Jack gave it to him without comment. Taking a deep breath the Doctor started to work, carefully removing the connections that led to the damaged parts of the sphere first. He slid them out smoothly, one by one. There was a slight catch and the Toclafane flinched. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," apologized the Doctor. "It was an adhesion, I should have checked. I'm sorry. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, please continue," pleaded the Toclafane.
The Doctor shook his head at his stupidity in not making sure the lead was free. Adhesions were an unwanted complication to an already difficult procedure. He was aware of Jack hovering over him ready to finish the task should he be unable to. His presence was comforting, an assurance that he was making the correct decision. It was also irritating, both that he needed that assurance and that Jack felt he might not be up to the job. He shoved those irrelevant thoughts from his mind, forcing himself into a clinical detachment from emotions. Soon he had removed the last of the non functioning connections.
"Now this is where things going to get difficult," he thought with a sigh. The remaining connections were live. A few were sensory, or for communications, but the rest were life support, essential for its survival. As he disconnected them, it would start to die and the race would begin. In his mind he felt that if it lived beyond its removal from the sphere, he was freeing it, but if it died before he was successful he was killing it, guilty of murder. An artificial demarcation he knew, but still crucial to him in determining his own guilt.
The sensory leads came out easily as did the communications, but on severing those connections something went wrong. The sphere started attacking its occupant giving it shocks and releasing a poison into the fluids that served as its blood. He started to reconnect what he had just removed, hoping the punishment to the writhing Toclafane would cease, but as his hand bushed it he heard it scream telepathically, "No, don't stop, free me."
The Doctor drove all emotions from his mind and worked quickly, abandoning his original plan that included the numbing of nerve endings and sealing of wounds, and just concentrated on removing all the connections before the Master's vengeful design killed it with unspeakable agony. The last connection to be removed was the metallic plate that had been inserted in its face. If left a bloody gaping wound where its nose and mouth had once been, but it was free now and still.
Holding his breath he carefully lifted it out of its prison. With relief he felt the feeble beating of its heart, the whispered gratitude of its mind. He stood up, cradling it in his hands as he shouldered past Jack on his way to the cliff edge. Its skin was soft, warm and velvety in his hands as he held it out to feel the sun. In its mind he felt gratitude, enjoyment and peace. A sharp contrast to the frantic beating of its, no not its, the human's, heart.
The Doctor felt that now, it was at last again a human, a person, not just a part in an insane machine. He felt the human's pain as the heart beat faster and faster, woefully inadequate to the hopeless task of supplying oxygen to the brain. The lungs small, weak, barely able to expand. But it was enough to let the human breathe the fresh clean air, untainted by metal and filters. The Doctor felt the human's wonder at the scents of the sea and the grass, at the sound of softly lapping waves below, the cries of the seabirds. He felt its sorrow at the choice that had allowed the creation of the living death that was a Toclafane.
The heart was beating frantically now, like a hummingbird's wings against the palm of his hand, then it stopped. There was a faint flutter, more felt than heard, as the lungs collapsed, releasing the pitiful amount of air that they held. The human's mind was still active, calm and accepting of its fate. Thanking the Doctor for this last bit of freedom as it sank into oblivion. Whether there would be the light the humans talked about, the Doctor didn't know. He let the connection fade before the final moments. There were some things he was willing to wait till it was his own time to find out.
There was a hand on his shoulder and he opened his eyes, unaware that he had closed them. "Is it over?" Jack asked with uncharacteristic respect.
The Doctor took a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering. "Yes, it's done." He then drew back his hand, brought it up over his head and flung the last human out over the cliff and into the ocean to be carried out by the receding tide.
"What? What did you do that for!?" exclaimed Jack.
"Your species evolved from the oceans here on this planet. It's only fitting that the last human be returned to those oceans, don't you think?" replied the Doctor his voice the epitome of reason.
"But…"
"But what? You want to keep it in a jar in Torchwood? On display for gawking dignitaries for centuries to come?"
"Well, it's what we do. Not the gawking part, but we never know when something might come in handy. So we store it all," explained Jack.
"You have the sphere, you don't need its former occupant," stated the Doctor, ending the discussion. He knew part of his ire was caused by his fears for what may have happened to his brother's remains. He looked at his palms, damp, spotted with blood and other fluids that had seeped from the wounds of the last human. Crouching down he wiped them off on the long coarse grass. He felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Here you go sir," said Ianto as he handed an alcohol wipe down to the Doctor.
"Oh, thank you," said the Doctor, straightening up. He quickly finished cleaning his hands with it. He was about to stuff it in his pocket when Ianto retrieved it from him and put it back in its original packet. The Doctor walked over to the sphere, picked up his sonic screwdriver and closed the shell.
"I'll take that," offered Ianto. For a second the Doctor thought the Welshman was talking about the sonic, but instead it was the sphere that was picked up. Relieved the Doctor started to put the screwdriver in his pocket only to be confronted by Jack's outstretched hand. With a sigh he turned it over.
"I'm sorry," Jack started to explain.
"I know, just in case," complained the Doctor. "You really think they are going to have a road block set up to check if I have possession of a sonic screwdriver?"
"No, but Frank has a habit of randomly bumping into people. It's just safer this way," explained Jack as they started towards the SUV. "Come on, let's go get something to eat."
The Doctor shook his head as he entered the SUV. Again Jack was trying to nursemaid him. He pushed his irritation and turned his mind turned to the sphere secured in the back seat. His fingers practically itched to start taking it apart. He was thinking about what use he could put the components to, when suddenly it felt like a bolt of lightning had pierced the top of his skull. Another headache took hold as he suppressed a gasp. Through a fog of pain he stole a glance at Jack, who appeared not to have noticed.
"Good," he thought and found even the unspoken word caused him to wince. He turned towards the window, hoping neither man with him in the vehicle would observe that his eyes were closed against the brightness of the sun. Since no one enquired as to his health he felt the ruse had worked. Now if only he could get control of the pain before the vehicle stopped and he had to move again.