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: I am so, so sorry for the ridiculously long wait, guys! I swear, I have been trying to get this written for such a long time. I did not expect it to take this long, but my muse has been in a coma lately. I couldn't force words out of my head to save my life. I'm behind on everything and I've been so busy and let me just tell you guys, I've had some pretty shitty days lately. It's been difficult, but I promise, I will finish this and as quickly as possible. I'm so close to the end I can taste it.

Thanks so much for your patience and I really hope you guys are still enjoying this. I'm sure quite a few people have already given up on me and this and I don't blame them one bit, but thanks to everyone still sticking with me.

Armageddon:

Part IV: The Last of the Time Lords

Chapter Two

Martha stumbled along the rocky terrain as Tom led her along. It was daylight now, the sun high overhead, but dimmed by a billowing cloud of smoke rising somewhere ahead of them. Factories, Martha guessed. Her eyes scanned the horizon and she grimaced, spotting the over-large statue of the Master just ahead of them. She shook her head in disgust.

"All over the Earth, those things," she said, nodding toward it. "He's even carved himself into Mount Rushmore."

Tom glanced back at her, but didn't acknowledge what she'd said. Martha imagined he'd seen a few of the proud monuments to their Lord and Master himself in his travels. He crouched down and motioned for her to the do the same, waving her forward slightly.

"Best to keep down," he told her, peering over a large boulder.

"Here we go," he said. "The entire south coast of England, converted in shipyards."

Martha followed his gaze and looked out, seeing the huge, hideous factory, chugging away. Thin clouds of smoke lifted and gathered together from several different exhaust columns and Martha narrowed her eyes at the sight.

"They bring in slave labor every morning," Tom told her, "break up cars, houses… anything, just for the metal; building a fleet out of scrap." His voice hardened and Martha merely shook her head, already having seen too many of these shipyards to count.

"You should see Russia," she said. "That's shipyard Number One. All the way from the Black Sea to the Bering Strait, there's a hundred thousand rockets getting ready for war."

"War?" Tom turned sharply toward her, his frown deepening. "With who?"

"The rest of the universe! I've been out there, Tom," Martha said. "In space, before all this happened, and there's a thousand different civilizations all around us with no idea what's happening here." She swallowed hard, trying not to think too hard on how much not just the Earth, but the entire universe was counting on her to do this right.

"The Master can build weapons big enough to devastate them all," she said quietly.

Tom raised a brow skeptically, not seeming to grasp just how serious, how severe this situation was.

"You've been in space?"

Martha wanted to grab him and shake him and tell him to wake up. Why, after everything that had happened during the Master's reign over the planet, people still balked at the idea of space travel and aliens, Martha didn't know.

"Problem with that?" she snapped, a bit harsher than she truly meant.

"No," Tom said quickly. "No, just… Wow."

Martha blinked and felt a bit guilty for her early annoyance; apparently he wasn't surprised and skeptical, he was in awe. She'd rather the skepticism. It made more sense to her than the strange hero-worship she knew she didn't deserve.

"Anything else I should know?" Tom asked, half joking.

Martha smiled faintly and looked forward, shrugging. "I've met Shakespeare,"

The look Tom gave her was almost enough to make her grin, a wide, truly amused smile, but the tell-tale buzzing of Toclafane cut the moment short and they both tensed, turning quickly and spotting two of the little black spheres flying right at them.

Tom scrambled forward and Martha held as still as possible, feeling the TARDIS key around her neck like a heavy weight. As long as she didn't move, she should be safe.

"Identify, little man," the Toclafane demanded. Tom hurried yanked his wallet from his pocket, holding it above his head and keeping both hands where they could be seen.

"I've got a licence!" he said quickly. "Thomas Milligan, Peripatetic Medical Squad. I'm allowed to travel."

Martha tried to look back and see what was happening without actually turning her head. All she could make out was Tom's back and the fuzzy side of one of the sphere's, bouncing up and down a bit in the air. She held her breath.

"I—I was just checking for—"

"Soon the rockets will fly!" the Toclafane cut him off and Tom swallowed roughly. Martha heard the metallic chink of the Toclafane blades popping out and tensed, ready to run and drag Tom with her if need be.

"And everyone will need medicine," the Toclafane said, a menacing edge to the already unsettling tones. "You'll be so busy!" They laughed, high and darkly amused. Martha felt her heart going a mile a minute and then the Toclafane flew off toward the shipyard.

Tom lowered his arms and breathed heavily, his muscles feeling like jello. He'd been sure that they were about to be killed, sure that he had managed to screw up and get Martha Jones, their only chance at survival, killed by Toclafane not twenty-four hours after meeting her.

He turned toward her, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"But—they didn't see you," he said, shaking his head.

Martha smiled faintly and pulled the key from her jacket. "How do you think I traveled the world?"

They headed back to the truck, stumbling once more over the rocky surface, and she explained to him about Archangel, about the Master's psychic manipulation of the planet, about the key allowing her to go unnoticed for the most part. It felt strange to be talking about it all so frankly; it had been ages since she'd been on the other side of the conversation and she felt a pang of sadness, the Doctor's face flashing in her mind.

"But I can see you," Tom said, glancing down at her curiously.

Martha smiled. "That's 'cause you wanted to," she told him.

He smiled faintly at her. "Yeah, I suppose I did," he said, doing his best not to look her in the eye. Martha tilted her head curiously at him, feeling an oddly familiar and surprising feeling in her chest. She really rather liked Tom Milligan.

"Is there a Mrs. Milligan?" she asked.

"No," he said. "No. What about you?"

Martha's smile fell and her thoughts once more went back to the Doctor, back to the time he'd kissed her, roughly and without warning, back to the butterflies in her stomach when she would look at him. It felt like a lifetime ago and she couldn't help but think she'd been so naïve back then, barely more than a child. She wasn't that naïve anymore, though.

"There used to be someone," she said. "Long time ago." She cleared her throat and pulled the door to the truck open. "Now, c'mon, I've got to meet this Docherty woman."

"We'll have to wait for the next work shift," Tom told her. "What time is it now?"

"It's nearly three o'clock," Martha said, buckling herself and waiting as Tom climbed into the driver's seat. She sat back and rested her head against the seat, grateful that Tom didn't push her for more details about her past. Her gut tightened as they drove on. The time was getting shorter. It was almost over.

~/.\~

Reid shifted uncomfortably on the floor, watching the Doctor watch the others. He could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy.

"It'll be soon," the Doctor murmured to him. "One last big hurrah…"

"And then it'll be over…" Reid whispered back, his eyes still stuck on the Doctor's profile. The Doctor's jaw tensed and he nodded sharply.

"And then it'll be over," he echoed. "One way or another."

Worry was eking from him, his muscles taut and his posture rigid. He was doing his best to hide it from him, but Reid knew that he was anxious about how today was going to play out. It was what they had waited an entire year for, what they had been suffering for all this time. If this didn't work, Reid wasn't sure how the Doctor would handle it—the guilt of it all would likely crush him.

He reached out and gently took the Doctor's hand in his own.

"It'll work," he said, quietly. The Doctor squeezed his fingers and his lips turned upwards just slightly.

"'Course it will," he said, his voice purposefully light. "It's my plan after all. It's bound to work."

Reid almost grinned, felt hope swelling inside of him. They were so close. It was nearly over. He could hardly believe it.

~/.\~

Jack watched the clock as Trish fed him his meal—the same bland slop as usual. The young girl's posture was stiff, tension radiating from her. Jack smiled at her and was glad to see her shoulders relax somewhat. The clock glared the time back at him and tugged gently on his chains, readying himself for the coming show.

It was almost time.

~/.\~

Sherlock knew that they were planning their final distraction, the minutes were ticking back slowly, but it would be very soon now that the fireworks would begin. Kate, across from him in her cell, was watching the bars with a hawk-like gaze. They would be removed from most of the action, most likely, but they would be able to hear what was happening above.

Sherlock found himself worrying in a way that he had never experienced before. Perhaps worry was too harsh a word to describe the odd tightness in his gut; mild concern sounded more apt. Still, this was a pivotal moment; everything hinged on the others' ability to keep the Master distracted and thinking that he had won, and Martha's ability to sell that lie until the very last possible second.

He wasn't a man for prayer, but if he had been he certainly would've put in a few hopeful pleas to a mysterious higher power. They couldn't afford any mistakes today.

~/.\~

Lucy Saxon hadn't said a word in nearly four days. She had grown very quiet over the last year, having so few people to talk to aside from her husband and gradually losing the will to converse even with him—except when he expressly demanded it, which wasn't often these days. Her silence on this day didn't stem from any trauma, however, more a place of building rebellion.

She was watching the clock just as everyone on board the Valiant was, waiting for the countdown to begin. Some small part of her was hoping, desperately, that maybe once this was over, once Harry had launched his rockets into space and gotten everything he wanted, maybe then he would be more like the man she had fallen in love with.

She knew, deep down, that it was a fruitless and childish to hope, but she clung to it anyway.

She felt pulled taut as a kite string, just waiting for the clock to hit zero. Something would have to give when it did; otherwise Lucy feared she might snap. Underneath her glassy, silent exterior a storm was brewing. She felt itchy and uncomfortable in her own skin.

Her eyes jumped from the clock to her husband, giddy as a child at a circus, and back again. Her hands twitched gently and felt the blood throbbing gently behind the most recent bruise on her face.

Something had to give.

~/.\~

All Hell broke loose onboard the Valiant and precisely three o'clock.

Down in the lower levels of the ship, Jack Harkness managed to yank his chains from the wall and bust open a pipe, spewing boiling hot vapor at the guards who quickly ran to recapture him. As soon as the immortal man made a run for it, alarms started blaring on every level of the ship.

"Condition Red! Repeat, condition Red!" a voice yelled over the speakers.

In the confusion, Francine Jones dove for the Master's jacket while he pushed away from Tanya, the young girl he'd been toying with moment before. She threw the jacket into her daughter's waiting arms and Tish in turn passed the jacket over to the Doctor.

With frantic, fumbling hands, the Doctor searched the inner pockets of the jacket until he found the familiar screwdriver. He clutched it between his fingers and felt a bit sick. Spencer's eyes were on him, watching for any sign that he might not be able to pull off the next bit convincingly.

The Doctor met his eyes briefly and then spun, wielding the screwdriver like a gun. Just as the Master turned around, he aimed it at him and stared down his former friend with the coldest gaze he could possible muster.

The Master, for his part, seemed completely unperturbed to be staring down the end of his own deadly screwdriver. His hands went into the air half-heartedly and he rolled his eyes at the sight before him.

"Oh, I see," he sighed.

"I told you," the Doctor said, his voice steady and hard. "I have one thing to say."

The Master stared at him for a moment and then his bored expression turned into one of immense amusement. He grinned and laughed, his hands dropping to his sides. The Doctor swallowed heavily. He was buying the act; that was good. He took a half step back, lowering the screwdriver slightly and doing his best to look confused.

The Master knelt before him and the Doctor flipped the switch on the screwdriver. Nothing happened, as expected. The Master smirked and took it from his limp fingers.

"Isomorphic controls," he informed him smugly, before landing a solid punch to the Doctor's jaw. He crumpled easily and wasn't surprised when he heard Spencer's voice calling out to him in worry. "Which means they only work for me."

"Like this!" He flipped the switch, narrowly missing Francine. The woman jumped and screamed, clenching her eyes shut in terror.

"Say sorry!"

"Sorry, sorry!" she blurted, her voice shaky. Tish ran to her mother in a panic, helping to get her out of the way.

The Master smirked. "Or this!"

Another blast nearly hit Tish, but she moved out the way with barely enough time. One more bright yellow laser slammed into the wall next to Spencer's head and the young man froze, wide eyed, watching the Doctor struggle to sit up while Tish and Fran huddled together.

Lucy hurried over to the steps where her husband stood, scooping up his discarded jacket.

"Did you learn anything from the blessed Saint Martha?" The Master spat, allowing Lucy to help him get his coat on. "Siding with the Doctor is a very bad thing to do."

His eyes flicked to the guards.

"Take them away," he ordered.

The guards moved quickly, gathering Fran and her daughter and leading them out of the conference room. As the doors closed behind them, the Master bent and yanked the Doctor off the floor, tossing him into one of the chairs. The Doctor grimaced and clutched at his chest, breathing heavily. Spencer wondered just how much of it was an act.

The Master hopped on the table, Lucy hovering carefully around him. He used his feet to spin the Doctor's chair around to face him.

"I remember the days when the Doctor, oh that famous Doctor, was waging a Time War, battling Sea Devils and Axons." There was a touch of real awe mingling with the mockery in the Master's tone. Spencer wondered just how much the Master really felt about his old friend.

"He sealed the rift at the Medusa Cascade single-handed!" he continued, shaking his head sadly. "And look at him now… stealing screwdrivers. How did it ever come to this? Oh, yeah! Me!" He laughed a loud hearty laugh while the Doctor stared on.

After a moment, the Doctor sucked in a heavy breath.

"I just… need you to listen," he said, half hoping that perhaps he really could get through to him.

"No!" The Master leaned forward. "It's my turn. Revenge! Best served hot."

His eyes flickered toward the doors as they once again opened. Shuffling feat came from behind him, but the Doctor didn't dare turn around to see what was making the Master's eyes gleam like they were.

"I've got one last message for Miss Jones."

With that, he spun the Doctor's chair around so that he could see who had joined them. The Doctor's breath rattled and he felt ice pour into his veins.

"Sarah Jane!"

~/.\~

A/N: I know I said Martha would meet Docherty in this chapter, but I suppose I lied a bit. This just felt like the perfect place to end up and it's a fairly decent length. That, plus I was struggling a bit with where to end that bit and precisely how I'm going to rework it. Still.

Please let me know what you think! Again, I am so sorry for the delay in updating. I hope to have the final chapter for this part finished with the next couple of weeks, but I make no promises. Be patient with me guys; I am trying, I swear.