Title: Armageddon

Rating: T

Warnings: Major spoilers for "Utopia", "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords"; violence; mild language; allusions to rape (but I promise nothing explicit or graphic)

A/N: So, to start off I'm sorry for the lateness of this chapter. It was a real pain to write, I've got to admit, not to mention hard to find time to write given all the stupid, stupid things I've got to put ahead of writing fanfictions lately. It's fairly long, though, so hopefully the wait was well worth it.

Second, and as always, huge thanks to everyone for the reviews! You're all fantastically amazing and I really appreciate your support! Of course, thanks also to those of you following this and for everyone who has added it to their favorites :D

Now, I'd like to make it known that this story is going to be (and already is) all kinds of complicated (heh, just like real Doctor Who!) and only seems to get more tangled and messy the more I write. That's probably due to the seven fandoms I've managed to cram into this thing. Still. Because this story takes place over the course of an entire year, each chapter is basically me writing about seven separate mini-episodes for each respective fandom (hence the length of chapters and the wait for updates) so I appreciate your patience while I muddle through the tangled world of this insanity and try to make feasible, coherent plotlines from the mess in my head.

Anyway, sorry for the long note. I'll shut up now and let you get on to the story…

Armageddon:

Part III: The Year of Hell

Chapter Six

The first month after the Master's upheaval of any and all forms of government was the most difficult for the people of earth. By the end of his first month as "Lord and Master", he had established his massive weapons factories and shut down nearly every other form of commerce. Anyone too young, old or weak to work had been delegated to other more menial tasks. Very few were lucky enough to have escaped the labor camps and most compared the Master's reign to that of Hitler, but not even Adolf Hitler had accomplished such wide scale destruction and horror.

In the first few weeks after what had come to be known as the Decimation – estimates were still uncertain but most numbers appeared to agree that roughly ten percent of the entire population had been killed – it became clear what the Master wanted from military, law enforcement and medical personnel. While most people weren't permitted to travel and became confined to whatever region or camp they worked in, law enforcement and doctors were given passes that allowed them to move around.

Doctors were by far the most necessary at the beginning, healing and tending to those who had been injured but not killed in the initial attacks. Law enforcement and military however, were a bit more selective. Many had already gone underground and organizations like the FBI and UNIT were vehemently opposing surrender and more than a few agents were killed in attempts to quell the rebellion. Those unlucky enough to have family members alive were threatened into service and many others were threatened with their own lives as well.

Eventually, despite the resistance, they all fell under the Master's power and anyone who hadn't fled to one of the many underground safe houses became part of the Master's standing army. Unwilling though most of them were, they were also terrified and desperate with family member's lives on the line and no hope of taking on the Master.

The "Most Wanted" list was broadcast every single day. Names were missing each time it was announced, but new names also cropped up on a regular basis. No one knew for sure what he did with the people on the list, but it was a safe bet that they were all killed. Some, especially the powerful political members, were executed on live television to send a message to the masses.

There had already been one assassination attempt by a handful of the UNIT soldiers onboard the Valiant. They had all been killed while the rest of the world watched on in terror and disgust. The Master seemed to enjoy forcing everyone to watch him torture and kill people and flaunted the failed attempt with gleefulness. Rumors began to spread that he really was unkillable, but small factions still held out hope for assassination.

Aside from the occasional public murder, the Master also delighted in weekly broadcasts featuring the captive members on the Valiant. In an attempt to force the fugitive Martha Jones into surrender, every week he would choose a different prisoner to torture. A young man named Spencer Reid, another man the world watched die over and over in shock called Jack Harkness and a man the Master only called the Doctor were often the targets. The Master claimed that the Doctor too was an alien from the same planet as he was and the amount of torture the man was forced to bear seemed frighteningly impossible.

Whenever he wasn't torturing those three, however, members of Martha Jones' own family frequently found their way into the broadcasts. Less often, perhaps, but still brutally tortured nonetheless. Most familiar to the world was the face of Letitia Jones, who the Master seemed to have taken a liking to. Francine and Clive Jones were also featured and during the third week, Leo Jones – who had been turned over to the Master shortly after the broadcast – was killed while his parents and sister watched.

Still, Martha Jones remained nothing more than a whisper to the Master. A whisper that rippled through the population with hope. People who'd met her talked about a brave and brilliant young woman with a plan to stop the Master once and for all. Rumors of her travels soon spread far past the Eurasian continent and throughout the entire world people were talking about Martha Jones. Despite his best efforts, however, the Master had yet to find out what her plan was to stop him.

Early in their imprisonment, there had been escape attempts – usually led by Jack, but planned by the Doctor – and the Master eventually moved Jack from the cells and into the lower sections of the ship, taking care to have him chained up constantly. The Joneses, who had been forced into servitude aboard the ship, had been relegated to a small room with barred doors and Spencer and the Doctor were often kept in the Valiant's main conference room under heavy guard.

They were fed twice a day, small meals of bland and tasteless slop. Only enough to keep them alive, and this week Jack wasn't been fed at all. The Master wanted to see how long it would take him to die of starvation.

This morning, the Master entered the conference room dressed in a crisp suit, grinning from ear to ear, whistling a tune merrily with Lucy at his side. Reid watched Lucy as she moved rigidly, every step stiff and a bit awkward. Her eyes were a bit glazed over and she didn't appear to really be looking at anything at all. Spencer had been noticing the signs of abuse for the past week or so, but Lucy never said anything and sometimes he could still see that adoring light in her eyes as she gazed at her husband.

"Good morning, captives!" the Master beamed down at the Doctor and Reid where they'd slept on the floor. They'd been given blankets and two thin pillows but that was about as much comfort as they were allowed and Reid was especially aching after several nights spent on the hard floors.

Neither of them said anything as the Master stopped in front of them, twirling his screwdriver between his fingers. His eyes were bright and Reid had a bad feeling that something was very wrong judging by the way the man's eyes were lit with joy. The last time he'd looked that happy had been when he informed the Doctor of the death of Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart and the capture of Leo Jones.

The Doctor seemed to sense that bad news was coming as well as he shifted up and leaned his head against the wall. He was pale and even thinner than he had been before. He'd been stripped of his trench coat and suit jacket and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal nasty bruises on his wrists from being hung from the ceiling with metal cuffs a few nights earlier.

"I've got some good news Doctor!"

The Doctor's heart practically skipped a beat in his chest as he stared up at the man.

"We've been hearing a bit of chatter lately about a friend of yours… Maybe you remember him? Harry Sullivan? Hmm, ring any bells?"

Judging from the look on the Doctor's face that name was familiar to him and Reid winced at the rage he saw in the Doctor's eyes as the Master grinned at him. "What did you do?" he snarled, leaning forward. It would have been far more threatening if he hadn't looked so completely exhausted.

"Me? I didn't do anything!" the Master mocked innocence, eyes still sparkling, "If it's any consolation, Doctor, it was a quick death. And even better, we're very close to finding Dr. Holloway. You remember her, don't you? Lovely woman. Enjoyed the opera, didn't she?"

The Master suddenly belted out a loud, long tune and bowed theatrically, beaming from ear to ear. "And rest assured, Spencer, I will find your little teammates and… you too."

Reid didn't respond, but inside he was sighing in relief. He was dreading the Master walking in one morning and announcing that he'd killed Hotch or Morgan or Prentiss. Although, after the first week he had been delighted to inform Spencer of Diana Reid and Jennifer Jareau's deaths. Some part of him clung to the hope that his mother was still alive, but then the Master had shown him pictures of her body.

Their only hope now was Martha. It had taken a few days for the Doctor to fully explain what he had told Martha to do – Reid still wasn't sure he entirely understood it to be honest, but according to the Doctor, if it all went as it was planned then they could erase all of this nightmare. It all hinged on whether or not Martha could get the message out fast enough and avoid capture.

So far, she'd done so brilliantly. Which the Doctor seemed to enjoy pointing out despite how angry it made the Master.

A tiny smirk lit the Time Lord's pale, gaunt face as he stared up at his adversary, "But you haven't found Martha,"

The Master's smile fell and his eyes darkened, "But I will," he assured him, "And when I do, I'll make sure you get front row seats to her death!" He let out another deranged chuckle and whirled around, practically skipping to the large throne he'd had set up on the stage.

"Now," he announced loudly, "What shall we do today? There's just so much… I'm almost getting bored with the screams, honestly. …Almost."

~/.\~

Dean gasped and grimaced, biting down on his lower lip to distract himself while Sam stitched up a gash on his arm.

"Damn it," Dean hissed, "Hurry up, would ya, Sammy? I'm bleeding all over the place here,"

Sam rolled his eyes, "Shut up and stop whining," he muttered, "It's your fault you're hurt anyway."

The two of them hadn't had the best of months lately and given what their months were usually like, that was really saying something. They'd left Sioux Falls after two and a half days. Dean had refused to stay any longer and things were starting to heat up with the new Master/Dictator putting his system in place.

It took them over a day just to get back to the Roadhouse, having to dodge Toclafane and take back roads to avoid being spotted by anyone who would decide to turn them in. By the time they got to the old bar they'd luckily escaped the Toclafane sweep of the area, but the Roadhouse was also almost entirely empty.

A few Hunters who'd also been lucky enough to be gone while the Toclafane came were still there: Gordon Walker, an old hunting buddy of their father's named Martin Creaser, a tall, skinny man named Garth, and an older black man sitting in a corner eyeing everyone with distain and suspicion (Martin told them that his name was Rufus Turner). Ellen and Jo hadn't been so lucky having maintained a constant post in the bar. They did manage to hide Ash, fortunately. He was in his room in the back when Sam and Dean showed up, packing his computer equipment up and talking too fast about getting the hell out of there.

It had taken them all nearly half a day to get Ash's equipment secured and then they moved to an underground shelter that Rufus had built years ago for just such an occasion. Luckily for them, the old hunter's paranoia had paid off and his concrete-lined bomb shelter was large enough to house about fifteen to twenty people and Rufus had it stocked with food and water.

Generally, hunters were wary to trust or work with other hunters, especially ones they didn't know, but in this case they had no choice and they all agreed that working together was all that they could do.

Early on they learned that keeping Dean and Gordon separated was a good idea – Gordon had enough good sense to focus on survival rather than revenge, but he was quick to get pissed off whenever Dean said anything smartass or even remotely sarcastic which, because it was Dean, was often. Sam and Martin were generally the peacemakers whenever any fights broke out and if that didn't work, Rufus would threaten to blow their heads off.

Sam questioned how Garth even survived as a hunter at all. He was not only young and exceptionally uncoordinated, but he was easily distracted and a little bit naïve at times. Nothing like any hunter they'd ever met before.

They went on runs once every couple of weeks, trying to find the camp where Ellen and Jo were and gathering information. It was slow going, but it was something. They never left the shelter alone and Ash never even left the shelter at all. They all agreed that as their best shot at cracking Archangel, Ash should be kept as far away from danger as possible.

After the first couple of weeks, they began to run into other groups like theirs. Small groups of ten to twenty people hiding in underground shelters and abandoned houses. Sometimes it was hunters, sometimes civilians. A few times they'd run into cops who'd went underground during the Decimation, but not often. Toclafane patrolled most of the areas around the labor camps and factories, not to mention the cops and soldiers who'd been forced into the Master's service.

All in all, they weren't making much headway, but they keep at it. Staying out of the Master's radar and helping the other safe houses was about all they could, but at least it was something. They'd been out on one of their runs when they'd been spotted by a couple of Toclafane and now they found themselves squatting in an old warehouse, Dean's blood dripping on the floor while Sam stitched up a gash on his arm from one of the Toclafane.

They'd driven as far as Minnesota hearing rumors of a safe house that was nearly fifty head strong and harboring several FBI agents, but so far they hadn't had any luck finding it and Dean was getting frustrated with no results to speak of.

"Ugh," he tugged his sleeve down as Sam finished, "This bites, dude. We've been here two days and so far we've got diddly-squat to show for it, Man. Maybe Ash's info was off."

Sam snorted, "Has it ever been wrong before?"

Dean frowned, "Whatever, let's just keep moving, alright? Before those bastards come back." He reached over and snatched their duffle bag, slinging it over his uninjured arm. He was halfway to the exit when they heard the faint trilling and they froze. The ringing continued for about thirty seconds before they realized that it was coming from the duffle bag.

"What the hell?"

"It's a cell phone," Dean threw the bag down, riffling through it. "I thought we ditched all of our phones?"

"We did," Sam said, "Back at the Roadhouse a month ago. Jo trashed 'em for us before we even left for Sioux Falls the first time."

"Well we obviously missed – It's Dad's! I totally forgot we kept this," he tugged the beaten up phone – still ringing – from the pockets and gave Sam a wary look. The caller ID was blinking the initials "K.M." but nothing else.

"K.M.? Do you remember anyone with those initials?"

"Not that I remember," Sam frowned, "Should we answer it?"

Dean hesitated, "Should be safe enough…" he flipped it open and cautiously held it to his ear, "…Hello?"

"Thank God!" the voice on the other end was male and young, Dean could tell that much, but he had never heard it before in his life. "I thought you might be dead… A-After Mom…"

"Sorry, kid, hang on," Dean cut him off, "Who is this?"

"It's Adam…" the kid said, "Wait, who's this?"

"…Dean Winchester," Dean answered, "Mind tellin' me how you go this number, Adam?"

"Winchester…" Adam breathed, "Your name's Winchester?"

"Yeah," Dean frowned, "I repeat: How did you get this number?"

"You're related to John Winchester right? Is he alive? Did he…? I mean… Is he okay?"

Dean's breathing hitched a bit at his dad's name, eyes darting to Sam and then down toward the floor, "Kid, I swear to God, if you don't answer my question I'm hanging up. Hasn't anyone told you how dangerous cell phones are these days?"

"Sorry…" Adam didn't sound very sorry, but he did sound anxious and terrified, "It's just… John's my dad."

Dean froze, "What?"

"John Winchester. He's my dad."

"That is not possible,"

"Did you know him? Is he -?"

"John's dead," Dean spurted the words out with a harsh scowl, "And I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but it's not working."

"Game? Th-This isn't a game! John's… My dad's dead?"

"No," Dean's voice a low growl and Sam edged a bit closer to his brother, sensing that he was nearly ready to explode, "My dad is dead. I don't know who the hell you think you are –"

Sam could practically feel the fury rolling off Dead and snatched the phone from him, ignoring his brother's outraged "What the Hell!" and turning slightly away from him, putting the phone to his ear in time to hear the young male voice saying "…John's son!"

"What about John's son?"

Adam sounded exasperated, "Look, I don't have much time, alright. I just… wanted to know if my dad was alive."

"Who's your dad, kid?"

"John! John Winchester!"

Sam's eyes nearly popped out of his head, but he kept his cool better than Dean had, "John Winchester? He's your father?"

"Yes!"

He hesitated and frowned, "…How old are you?"

"What does that have to do with -?"

"Just answer the question,"

"Seventeen… Look, just… are you really John's kid? My – my brother?"

Sam fidgeted and frowned, "Yeah, look, Kid, do me a favor, alright? I don't want to talk on this line. Get to a payphone, a landline, anything but a cellphone. I'll give you a number to call…"

Adam didn't want to hang up, not at first, but Sam eventually convinced him that they'd already been risking too much staying on the line as long as they had. As soon as the kid hung up, Sam smashed their dad's old phone into the ground and turned to face Dean.

"…Dean –"

"No," Dean shook his head, hands shaking. "Sam, don't even think about it."

"We gotta at least check this out, Dean,"

"It's a trap, Sam. No way,"

"Dean! Come on, we can't just… I'm not saying trust the kid, I'm saying… I'm saying don't cut the kid off. What if he's telling the truth? It's possible, isn't it?"

"No way in Hell,"

"Dean," Sam sighed and shook his head. "Come on, we both know it could happen. We at least have to hear what the kid has to say, right?"

"No, we don't. What we have to do is find that safe house and that's it. We are not stopping to take some detour into crazy town, Sammy. No,"

Sam was getting just a little bit tired of humoring Dean for the past month, letting his brother burry himself in the jobs, the survival. Not bothering to point out the dangerous downward spiral he seemed to be on at the moment. The makeshift phone that Ash has fixed up for them began beeping and Sam snagged it before Dean could.

"Don't you answer that Sam!"

Sam ignored him and pressed the button, giving Dean a meaningful look as he turned his back on him. "Adam?"

~/.\~

Patrick Jane was not a happy man. For the past month he had been confined to an underground shelter, unhappily not permitted to leave the premises under any circumstances. Jane was not a man who enjoyed being confined to one space for too long. And to make matters worse, he hadn't seen Lisbon for over a month.

Lying on the small couch in the old warehouse, Jane huffed in annoyance and thought back to the last time he'd seen the woman.

"No," Teresa said, frowning at them, "We get Jane out of here first. I'll find Minelli. If those things are coming back, we need to get him to safety."

"But, Boss –"

"Now Rigsby!" Lisbon snapped, glaring at him. "You and Van Pelt take Jane and Dr. Holloway. Get the kids and find somewhere to hide them. If you have time, come back here. We don't have time to argue right now!"

Rigsby hadn't been happy to leave Lisbon behind and Jane had been even less enthused, trying to convince them to let him stay. But Minelli – who had insisted on going out with search parties a few hours after the broadcast – had gone missing and they were getting word that the Master had sent another wave of Toclafane to subdue everyone and discourage running. Lisbon and the others took control, getting the children and non-agents out of the building and to safety.

That had been a month ago and Lisbon had never made it to the safe house. A few of the other agents and cops had made it to the safe house, but none knew what had happened to Lisbon. It was almost a week later that they heard the news of Minelli's death. Other agents had been forced into working for the Master and Jane could only hope that Lisbon was with them and not dead.

Most of Jane's time was spent with the kids that were with them. Many of the children's parents hadn't made it to safety and he entertained them with stories and magic tricks while the others were busy.

"Thinking again?" Grace Holloway sat down in a chair next to him, frowning. He grunted in response but didn't say anything and the doctor sighed. "They'll find her, Patrick. You've got to stop worrying about it."

"I'm not worried," Jane told her, "There's nothing to worry about. Either Lisbon has been forced into working for an inhuman, overlord or she's been killed. What's to worry about?"

Dr. Holloway sighed, "Patrick," she started to say something and then seemed to think better of it. "Maybe Wayne and Grace heard something while they were out. Think positive."

Van Pelt, Rigsby and most of the other agents that were in the house went out on weekly food runs that usually meant stealing food from nearby camps and stores and getting more information from the others. They didn't have a television in the house, but they were still able to keep up with what was going on by connecting with other safe houses in the area and sometimes being able to watch broadcasts on stolen laptops.

He let out another huff and rolled over onto his side. He was growing more and more restless having to stay in the small little place. Dr. Holloway stood and shook her head, leaving him alone to go back into the room that she and two other women in the house shared.

"Hey, Jane!" Rigsby, Van Pelt and an FBI agent named Craig entered the building about an hour later and Rigsby made his way to the blond man with wide, anxious eyes. "We might have found Lisbon."

Jane sat up straight, eyes widen as the other man sat across from him. "We don't know for sure, but we heard something about her in Pasadena," he said, "Tomorrow night Craig and I are going to check it out…"

"I'm going with you," Jane said.

"Told you," Van Pelt said, giving Rigsby a meaningful look, "He isn't going to let you do this without him, Wayne."

"Look, Jane, I know you wanna go but it's dangerous –"

"I'm going with you," Jane repeated, "If you're going to try and find Lisbon I want to be there."

"Patrick," Craig shook his head, "You don't even know how to use a gun. How are you gonna defend yourself if we run into trouble?"

"Please," Jane waved his hand, "Shooting a gun is simple. You just point and pull the trigger. A monkey could do it."

While Craig frowned at the comment, trying to decide if he should be offended by that statement or not, Rigsby leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, shaking his head, "Look, O'Laughlin's right Jane. You shouldn't be out there. It's dangerous."

"Put a gun in my hand if you must," Jane said, "If you're going to find Lisbon I'm going with you."

"Jane –"

"I can teach him to shoot," Van Pelt suggested, "Take him into the back room and let him shoot blanks. At least then he'd know the basics, right?"

"See! Grace, you're brilliant."

The redhead smiled a bit, but Rigsby looked uncertain, "I don't know, Jane, one night of training –"

"It'll be fine," Jane assured him, "So that's settled. Tomorrow night I'm going with you."

~/.\~

Martha's eyes were on the sky as she ducked into an alleyway to avoid a pair of Toclafane whirring by. They were becoming more and more common these days and she'd already witnessed more deaths than she could possibly care to count. She was in London. First time since the Decimation. She'd spent the past month travelling along an Underground Railroad of sorts. Safe houses had been set up from Cardiff and all across Europe. She'd heard that they were all over the world, but she'd yet to get very far.

It was slow travelling, not using the Vortex Manipulator. After landing with Sherlock near the Torchwood Hub she'd promised herself to only use it when absolutely necessary. It had taken her a couple of days to feel right again after not using the device.

She'd spent almost a week in Cardiff with Tosh, Ianto and Sherlock. Kate Lethbridge-Stewart had shown up, as promised, two days after the Decimation. She had been a bit battered, but with her help they managed to manufacture a nearly perfect, albeit entirely false, plan of assassination and working together, they'd managed to build a "weapon" that, however useless it really was, would hopefully throw the Master off of the actual plan.

Kate had taken half the gun with her to scatter the pieces and help spread the story, while Sherlock headed back to London with the other half of the gun, assuring Martha that he too would get the pieces where they needed to be.

Martha had never felt quite so alone as when Sherlock left. The two of them had spent the better part of two weeks together coming up with plans and quipping together. Of course, leaving Torchwood had also been difficult. For the few days she'd spent with Tosh, Ianto and Kate she had felt that her real mission was on hold. The second she abandoned the Hub, the weight of the entire world had seemed to fall on her shoulders and there had been no one there to take it off.

Returning to London made her want to find Sherlock, if he were still alive. She hadn't heard news to the contrary, but she seemed to always get the news of friends' deaths days after they'd happened. It was three days before they heard about Mycroft's death… She avoided watching the Master's broadcasts whenever possible whenever he'd killed her brother live. For two days she'd stayed in a state of depression, but Sherlock had snapped her out of it.

Word of her exploits were spreading across the continent and, possibly, even the world. That was good though, Martha reckoned, because that meant that people were at least able to hold on to some form of hope. And judging from the Master's furious campaign of live torture and public murder, he still had no idea of her mission.

London was desolate. Nothing like the London she remembered. There were no crowds, no busses, no cabs. Shops were all closed, their windows – if they weren't broken – darkened. It looked every bit the sad dystopia that it had become.

This time of day, most people were at the camps after working all day in the factories that the Master had built leaving the streets almost entirely deserted except for the occasionally patrolling soldiers and the constant floating Toclafane. She waited as the Toclafane passed and made a run for it towards a large office building. Three taps on the back door and a whispered password – "Freedom" – got her inside where she was soon greeted by about twenty faces.

She had done this several times by now. Though this was technically one of the "camps" that people were forced to live in communally, she could almost always rely of them not turning her in. The man who answered the door was eyeing her with a mixture of awe and trepidation. She was still getting used to the way people seemed to cling to her as a symbol of hope; it was a bit unsettling for her.

"You're really her," he whispered, "Martha Jones."

She smiled a bit, shrugging with her pack on her shoulders, "I'm really her," she said.

The man let out a shaky breath and beamed at her, grasping her hand in his own. It was rough and covered with shallow cuts and Martha winced at how angry that made her. "Right this way, Miss Jones," he said, leading her through the building and into a large cafeteria. Everyone was taking their seats at plastic tables, eating what passed as food these days. Martha was outraged to see people even younger than she was there.

They offered to let her eat with them, but Martha just shook her head. She really wasn't in the mood to eat at the moment. She took a seat at a table near the back next to an older man and a few children. She guessed that the old man was one of the few who watched the children while everyone else was working in the factories. When she sat down, he was smiling brightly at a redheaded little girl and boy, telling them a story about a princess and a dragon.

"Hello," she smiled when she sat down and the kids all stopped listening to turn and stare at her.

One little boy, whose eyes were about the size of dinner plates, gaped at her. "You're that girl that the grown-ups talk about! The one that's gonna save us!" He couldn't have been more than six or seven and was missing a couple teeth in the front, making his voice lisp a bit.

Martha smiled, "Well, I dunno about that, but I'll do my best," she said, "My name's Martha. What's yours?"

All the children chimed in at once with answers of "Shelly!" "I'm Brandon!" "My name's Michael" "Dana" and the youngest little boy, Martha would've guessed maybe four years old, said "I'm called Quinn!" She beamed at all of them and turned to the old man, whose eyes were sparkling.

"What about you?" she asked curiously.

"Oh, Wilfred Mott, Miss Jones," he said brightly, "At your service."

She smiled at him, "Nice to meet you, Wilfred," she said, eyes scanning the children. "Do you sit here every day with them?"

"Oh yes," the redheaded girl, Shelly, answered quickly, "Wilf and Miss Daisy stay with us while our families are at the factories. Wilf tells us stories every day. He has lots of fun stories to tell! Sometimes at night Miss Donna tells us stories too."

"Who's Miss Donna?" Martha asked curiously.

"That's my granddaughter," Wilf answered, nodding to a redheaded woman who was talking to a couple of other women a few yards away. She was older than Martha and she looked tired, but something about her screamed energy and resilience. Martha couldn't hear what she was saying, but she could hear her voice. It carried a bit and if Martha had met her any other time she was sure the woman would've been the most exuberant person in any room.

"Miss Donna tells the bestest stories," Michael, the little boy who'd spoken to Martha earlier said, "She doesn't know any fairy tales. She tells us about this man –"

"The Doctor!" Dana, a little brunette girl chimed in, "That's what he's called. He's a Martian!"

"The Doctor?" Martha frowned, brows creasing.

"Mhm," Dana nodded, "He's got a blue box that can fly!"

"But he's not from Mars," Shelly said, "Donna says he kept making sure to say that, but she don't know where he's really from."

Martha's heart was beating a bit too fast in her heart as the kids continued to explain to her about the man called the Doctor and his flying box. Wilf smiled a bit across from her, unaware of her racing thoughts.

"Don't know where she came up with that story," Wilf said, "Sometimes I think she believes herself. She goes on about him at night to help the kids sleep. Tells them he's a superhero."

"Like Superman!" little Quinn said excited.

"'Cept he don't wear a cape," Michael said, "But he's an alien just like Superman!"

Martha forced a shaky smile, nodding. "That's wonderful. Maybe Donna can tell me about him sometime, eh?" She swallowed roughly and stood from her seat, "'Scuse me,"

She hurried away from the table and made her way across the room to where Donna was standing and tapped the woman on the shoulder. "Donna?"

Donna blinked and the took in Martha's face, gasping, "It's you! That Jones woman that everyone talks about…"

Martha smiled bit, nodding, "Yeah, listen could I -?"

"You're a lot younger than I thought you'd be. Blimey, how old are you? Twenty-two?"

"Donna," one of the women hissed, "C'mon, she's practically trying to save the flippin' world by herself! Don't be rude."

"How was I being rude? I just said she was young, 'cos she is! Look at her! What on earth are you doing travelling around the entire flippin' country?"

Martha took a deep breath and shook her head, deciding the direct approach was probably the only way she'd ever get her question out. "The kids were telling me about the stories you tell them. About the Doctor?"

Donna tilted her head, suddenly looking a bit suspicious, "Yeah? What about them? They're just stories."

"Thing is, Donna, I don't think so. See, I know a man called the Doctor. He's got a blue box that travels through space and time, wears a long trench coat and sneakers and talks about a mile a minute."

Donna had gone very quiet for a moment, "Big hair? Thin as a rake? Knew some woman named Rose?"

Really? Martha almost scowled. Even now Rose was going to come up? In the middle of the bloody apocalypse, Rose was still popping up all over the place. She sighed, "That's the one."

Donna nodded slowly, "The bloke on the broadcast," she said, "The one the Master tortures sometimes… that's him."

"Yeah," Martha nodded, "That's him. I'm a friend of his… That's why I'm out here. Travelling around. The Doctor's got a plan, but it's a bit tricky. He can defeat the Master, but we've all go to help him or it won't work."

"So this plan? It's the Doctor's plan?"

"And if you know the Doctor, you know he can stop anything," Martha nodded.

"What's the plan then? How's he gonna do it trapped up there with him?" Donna demanded.

Martha took a deep breath and looked around, "Now's as good a time as any…" she said, "Get everyone into the cafeteria and I'll explain…"

~/.\~

"Anything?" Ianto asked, leaning over Tosh's shoulder and frowning.

"Nothing about Gwen and Owen, if that's what you're asking," Tosh sighed, "I'm sure if they could contact us they would, Ianto. We just have to give them more time, that's all."

Ianto frowned worriedly, eyeing going to the computer that Tosh was typing away on. They had been staying in the Hub since they'd arrived back in Cardiff courtesy of Castiel's teleportation. After Martha and Sherlock had left, they stayed in the Hub. Tosh was working on getting around Archangel – she was getting close, but the network was far more complicated than she had originally suspected.

Kate Lethbridge-Stewart checked in on them from time to time, but she spent a lot of her time with other UNIT soldiers, trying to keep a low profile after finding herself on the Master's radar. Tosh and Ianto had been able to keep out of the spotlight for a few days, but unfortunately the Master had discovered that they'd escaped his trap after about a week. There hadn't been anything about Owen and Gwen being captures so they assumed that they were still on the run.

"Alright," Ianto sighed and passed Tosh a cup of coffee. She had been working around the clock to get into the network. "Anything new to report for Kate?"

"Nothing much," Tosh sighed, "But I did find something interesting this morning…" She leaned over and grabbed a laptop that was sitting on her desk. A few clicks and she turned it so that Ianto could see the screen.

"While I was digging last night I ran across another server. Unnamed and separate from Archangel. I tried to break into it, but it's almost as secure as Archangel itself. Whenever I tried to break in, I got a message from someone; I'm assuming the guy who created it…"

"So it's not the Master?"

"Not as far as I could tell," Tosh said, "I think it's someone else trying to crack Archangel… They called themselves Dr. Badass, so I think we can assume it wasn't the Master."

"What did he say then? Anything?"

Tosh shook her head, "Nothing except that trying to crack his network would be completely pointless. Of course, he doesn't know me. I tried to reply, but he shut me out."

"Can't blame him," Ianto frowned, "Everyone's paranoid these days."

"Obviously," Tosh nodded, "But if he's capable of building a network this intricate, we should try to contact them. They could be helpful. There have to be others out there trying to break it."

~/.\~

Morgan scrubbed his face in the bathroom sink and sighed. The mirror above the sink was cracked, but clear. In the past month, he felt like he'd aged at least ten years. Five of those years had been in the first week after the Decimation.

He hadn't had any way of getting to Chicago to see Desiree, no way of staying in contact with her at all. The only people he had left at the moment were the team. Hotch had called in a former BAU agent, David Rossi. Morgan had never met the man, but he, just like most of the BAU, had heard a lot about him anyway.

In the days after the Decimation, the agents had banned together. Not just from the FBI, but the nearby NCIS had too. Despite the non-friendly regard the agencies often held for one another, they worked remarkably well together in this time of need.

Once the Master sent out his ultimatum – work for him or die – many agents went on the run. Any who were found were killed, but with help most of the established a network of interconnected houses and underground barracks to stay hidden in. It hadn't been easy, but it was by far better than working for the Master.

Which wasn't even an option for any of the team anymore. Not only was Reid on the list, but now all of them were. Prentiss, Garcia, Hotch and Morgan were all on the Master's most wanted list now. The list was constantly shifting and changing as more people were added and more people were killed. It was considerably shorter than it had been before, but still far longer than the Master was happy with.

To make things worse, the Master's weekly live-torture broadcasts were disturbing on entirely new levels. Watching Reid being tortured on live television was something that none of them could possibly explain. Reid was fine, as far as things went now, but that was definitely him on the television as well.

"Hey," Rossi entered the bathroom, knocking, "You done in here? One of the women needs to use the facilities."

"Yeah, yeah," Morgan edged passed the older man, "Hotch and Gibbs back yet?"

"Not yet," Rossi shook his head, "DiNozzo's been waiting by the door for 'em to bring back 'real food'."

Morgan laughed a bit and shook his head as the entered the large living space. They were in an old run-down apartment building. Most of the building was pretty much condemned, but they had managed to fix the plumping and wire electricity into the space so it was functional enough. There were several agents staying in the space, the entire team, Garcia and a few NCIS agents as well.

Abby Scuito, an NCIS tech who'd been helping Garcia try and crack Archangel open, practically skipped by the and slammed the bathroom door shut as they passed.

They figured they were probably more informed than most of the other safe houses given that Dr. Mallard, the medical examiner who worked for NCIS, was a former UNIT employee who knew more about the Master than anyone else.

Morgan could still remember their first time meeting the older man… Until then, Morgan had seriously doubted that the Master had been telling the truth about not being human, but Ducky had explained that back when he worked for UNIT there had been a man who called himself the Doctor who wasn't human either and apparently he was the same species as the Master.

When the Master started torturing a man called the Doctor on live television and Ducky recognized names of people that the Doctor had been friends with – Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, the Brigadier's daughter; a woman named Sarah-Jane; a man named Harry Sullivan among others. They figured a lot of the people on the list knew or had known the Doctor.

What still hadn't figured out was how Reid could be in two places at once. Given what Ducky had explained about Time Lords, they figured that it was something to do with time travel, but the exact how and why were still not clear.

Garcia had been probing Archangel, trying to find a way inside, but not even with Abby's help had she been able to make much leeway.

"Hey Baby Girl," Morgan smiled at the blond analyst who was busily working on a stolen laptop. "Anything?"

Garcia huffed, "I wish I could say yes, but skivvy son-of-a-bitch is good. A month and we've hardly made a dent in it…"

"If anyone can break it, it's you," Morgan assured her, squeezing his shoulder.

"That's what you said a month ago," she sighed sadly, "Derek what if we can't -?"

"Don't talk like that, Princess," Morgan shook his head at her, "We'll win this. There are more of us than there are him. We'll get there eventually."

~/.\~

A/N: Like I said, sorry for the long wait on the chapter. It was a real pain the butt to write. *head-desk* *head-desk* *head-desk*

And sorry for the lack of Sherlock *sigh* You will hear more from Sherlock (and other Sherlock characters like Lestrade) next chapter, I promise!

(And for those of you who don't know, Dr. Badass is Ash.)

Also, two things. One, yes I included Craig O'Laughlin. Doubt he'll get very big, but he just demanded to be in here. Two, you're damn right I included Adam Milligan. He didn't get near enough time on the show and I happen to love him a bit too much.

Anywho, forgive me for taking so long and please review!