here's the next one. ch 10 is already started but it will be posted in the next few days as I'll be back home from my trip tomorrow evening. hope you all enjoy!
Lawrence was seated on the sofa in John's study, glasses on and eyes staring distantly out the window. John himself sat nearby, scratching away on a sheet of paper, eyeing the newest subject of his mind, and dragging charcoal across the sheet to etch his face onto paper. He wasn't quite sure what had drawn him to Lawrence initially. Though, his memories of their first real meeting were foggy. Joan had pointed that out to him the other day when they'd had a short talk about himself and Lawrence. For some reason, there wasn't an answer detailed enough for her to be happy, and—if anything—that frustrated him.
Surely, they were close. Closer than him and his maid, Martha, anyway. They bickered of course, but neither of them meant any harm by their words. Yet, the longer they were together in this place, the more John felt he was missing something. That there was something about Lawrence that he hadn't figured out, that hadn't been shared between them. Perhaps it was because of that distant gaze he always had, as though his thoughts were continuously millions of miles away. Or perhaps it was his withdrawn nature that drew John to him. Lawrence held things close, after all. That much was apparent after the evening before when he'd gotten a little too drunk.
It wasn't like him, that much John knew. Lawrence didn't drink like that unless there was something wrong, something bothering him. Yet, when he'd asked about it upon their return, Lawrence said nothing and simply bid him goodnight before shutting the door in his face. John took no offense to it. That's just how he was. They hadn't known each other long, but there were some things about Fallon that he understood far better than others.
John's brows furrowed for a moment, pausing on his drawing and staring at the face on the paper in his book. Fallon? He shook his head, adjusting a few things to make the face appear more masculine than it was now and adding in the glasses that had been missing this whole time. When he looked back up at his reference though, he felt a hint of concern. Lawrence's expression had changed.
"Something wrong?" He spoke up, drawing Lawrence's gaze toward him as his once frowning features were eased back into something more neutral.
"No. Nothing. Are you nearly finished? I have marking to do."
John cracked a smile, looking back at his paper. "You and I both know you don't. You eased up on the boys today after your little drinking issue yesterday. No marking to be done when you practically gave them a day off."
The frown returned, though less troubled and more of a pout than anything and John got up from his seat and moved to sit beside Lawrence on the sofa. He handed the book over and—as always—Lawrence hesitated on taking it.
"Go on. It won't bite, promise," John teased, moving the book closer until Lawrence finally took it and eyed the drawing.
John was pleased to see his expression softening at the sight and felt a hint of pride well up in him at getting Lawrence to show him such a sight.
"You draw really well," Lawrence commented, making him blink in confusion.
"Did you not see my other drawings?" He asked, catching the slight wince Lawrence made at the accusation. "Oh. Oh, you haven't looked, have you? Lawrence, I told you, it's fine."
Lawrence shook his head though, adamantly refusing and pushing the book back. "No. No, they're your memories."
"They're just dreams, Lawrence. I really don't mind. You're my friend and—"
"We're not—" Lawrence winced when he rose his voice, lowering it once more. "We barely know each other. Why are you so insistent on us being close?"
John frowned softly, hurt but not because of what Lawrence was saying but because he knew it was just him pulling away again, closing himself off. "Aren't you lonely?"
Lawrence went quiet, watching him cautiously from under his lenses with some sort of hidden emotion swirling in his eyes that John didn't understand.
"Don't you get tired of being on your own?" John pressed. "Of watching the world go by without having someone there to enjoy it with? I want to be that person for you, Lawrence. I want you to see the universe the way I do, enjoy it the way I do. I want to see you laugh and cry and feel properly happy instead of constantly brooding over the past." John opened his book again and flipped it back to the drawing he'd done, pushing it back onto Lawrence's lap. "I want you to understand how I see you; what you mean for me."
Lawrence looked back at the drawing, seeing the slightest hint of a smile on his face, the seemingly relaxed and pleasant expression that shined through his eyes. He looked happy. When was the last time he felt happy?
"Fallon."
Lawrence jerked his head back up as John leaned forward, not realizing the name that had slipped out.
"I just want you to smile."
"I-I don't…" Lawrence glanced back down at the book until John's hand brushed his temple.
"You do. I've seen it," John said, his other hand brushing over the one Lawrence had on the drawing. "You just need someone to remind you how."
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Lawrence's and for a moment, everything felt right with the world. Lawrence pressed back and John's hand reached up for the nape of his neck, only to feel hands against his chest push him off. His eyes were wide with surprise as he took in the fearful expression Lawrence now held, one full of confusion and uncertainty. John reached out toward him, hoping he hadn't gone too far—that he hadn't inadvertently pushed Lawrence further away instead of bringing him closer.
"Lawrence? Lawrence, I know it's strange—"
He wasn't listening though, John could tell. his eyes were snapping toward the door and back, looking for an escape and John grabbed his wrist to stop him fleeing.
"Lawrence, please. I know this sort of thing is sometimes frowned upon, but we can figure something out. I just… I-I just don't want to lose you."
"B-But you're…" Lawrence bit his lip, making John cringe as he drew blood with his teeth. "I-I'm sorry. I-I can't."
Lawrence pulled away and John stood, reaching out for him as he hurried out the door where Martha was standing in shocked silence, having seen what occurred and unsure herself as to what she should do.
"Lawrence wait!" John called, but he was already gone and John closed his eyes in pain, dragging a hand through his hair and questioning how things had gone so wrong.
I ran as fast as my legs would carry me; my injured ankle burning as voices hissed and snapped in my ears.
"Lawrence, wait!"
"Mary? Is everything okay?"
"I'm sorry, Sam."
"It's not okay," I snarled, shoving my way into the Tardis and gripping the console tightly.
"I-I just don't want to lose you."
"We're not friends. We've only known each other a few days!"
"Aren't you lonely?"
"O-Of course, I'm lonely," I said, voice cracking. "Of course, I am, but you're not…"
"Fallon."
"You're not him! You're not the Doctor right now, you're John!"
"I just want you to smile."
"You look lovely when you smile, Mary. You should do it more often."
"Did I ever tell you how much I adore your smile, Sam?"
"Lawrence?"
"Just shut up!" I bellowed, slamming a fist into the console and ignoring the sharp pain that rolled up my arm when I did, sinking down to my knees and bowing my head as I begged them to stop. "Please. Please just… just stop. Just leave me alone. Why couldn't you just leave me alone?"
The Tardis hummed mournfully before there was a rap on the door. I just let my hands fall from the console, not bothering to turn to the only other person who could get access to the Tardis as Martha moved further in.
"Fallon?"
I didn't answer, didn't want to, didn't have the energy to. If she was jealous, let her be. If she was going to yell or argue with me, let it happen. Nothing mattered right now when all I could think of was past pain.
She came up beside me and knelt down, settling on the ground and staying quiet for a moment while I stared at the metal grating below in exhaustion.
"What happened with the Doctor," she finally said, trailing off for a second. "I just… I'm not upset or anything. I mean, could be worse, right?"
I didn't move, didn't speak.
"Look, I can't say I know much about what happened, how you feel, or anything like that, but… but something is obviously bothering you about this." She fidgetted for a moment. "I get it if you don't want to talk about it, especially with me. I just thought I'd offer… and… Well, I guess I'm sorry about how I acted before. I like him. The Doctor, I mean. Though I'm sure it's a bit obvious to you. I was just jealous of how close you two were. He actually notices you, you know? So, I thought you two would be… well, happy about something like this."
"It's not him," I murmured.
"Yeah, it's John now, right? But there's got to be some part of him in there… shouldn't there?"
"Fallon."
"It's not him," I pressed, teeth grit as I tried to convince myself of the same thing. "The Doctor doesn't… He wouldn't… We're not even friends."
"You've known each other for months!"
"We've known each other for days!" I shouted back, finally turning to her. "I've been acquainted with John for two months, not him. Not the Doctor. The Doctor doesn't know anything about me. He doesn't… He doesn't know what I've done."
"And?" Martha challenged with a frown. "So what? Isn't that why people get to know each other? That's why people become friends, to figure that stuff out. The Doctor is at least trying to do that. You're just closing everyone out!"
"I'm thousands of years old! I never die! Of course, I keep everyone out because everyone I've tried to bring in close gets me killed! Again and again and again! I was tortured by someone I thought I loved and who loved me! I've been hung and shot and stabbed! I've been betrayed by every friend and lover I thought I had because I'm just a fucking thing to them and I know he thinks the same. He's just like the rest of them a-and I-I can't—" I choked on the lump forming in my throat, turning away and remembering again what had happened only a moment ago. "He kissed me. Why would he do that? I don't understand. I can't think. None of this makes sense. I… I shouldn't have come back. I can't do this. I can't."
I turned to go, but Martha grabbed my arm.
"You can't! Even if you want to, you can't leave right now! Those things are here, I'm sure of it. If they get a hold of the Doctor—"
I jerked my arm free, hunching my shoulders and not facing her. "I'm sorry."
Then, I was gone.
The town was bustling for the evening dance, the village hall quickly filling up with couples eager to impress. Joan wrung her hands together, unsettled and mildly frustrated. She appeared to have been duped by her date but the more she'd asked around the school the more worried she'd become. Lawrence had seemingly vanished. He hadn't turned up for classes or been in his office or even near the grounds since earlier that day. She'd come to the dance hoping he might show up but no such luck.
John stepped in then, looking around himself before she hurried over. The two spoke simultaneously in their worry.
"Have you seen Lawrence?"
John grimaced, glancing away awkwardly. "Sorry. We had a small disagreement earlier and he ran off. I haven't seen him since."
"He was supposed to come to the dance with me," Joan informed him, missing the look of hurt flicker across his face. "Yet, the students say he didn't even turn up for lessons. What could have upset him so?"
John bit his tongue to keep from saying something he shouldn't as music played and couples shuffled about on the dance floor. "I'm… I'm going to get a drink. Do you…?"
"Oh… Oh, yes, please. If you would."
He nodded and shuffled off in a bit of a daze just as Martha came rushing in. Joan fidgeted, not unfond of the maid, but uncertain about her and her forward actions. Martha tended to forget her proper manners and Joan did her best to lightly scold her for it but still held a bit of unease around the woman as she approached.
"Have you seen John? I'm assuming he's here with Fa—Mr. McCarthy."
"John's just getting refreshments. Lawrence though… hasn't been seen since this morning. John mentioned an argument."
Martha hesitated before sitting down across from Joan. "Do you like John?"
"John? Goodness, no. He's polite enough, yes, but…" Joan again thought of Lawrence and cleared her throat awkwardly. "I-It's not he I fancy, but rather his companion."
"Lawrence?" Martha questioned, before letting out a scoff of a laugh. "Right, yeah. That's not gonna happen."
"Excuse me?"
"Well, for one thing, Lawrence is actually a—"
"Martha!" John greeted in surprise, cutting her off as he handed Joan a drink. "Excellent. You wouldn't have happened to see Lawrence, would you?"
Martha groaned. "Why is everyone—Look, we've got bigger things to worry about." She dug through her pockets and pulled out the sonic screwdriver, drawing his gaze to it like a magnet. Do you know what this is? Name it. Go on, name it."
John took it as Joan eyed the item and him with a hint of a mocking smile.
"John, what is that silly thing?" Her smile fell at his dazed look. "John?"
"You're not John Smith," Martha said seriously. "You're called the Doctor. The man in your journal, he's real. He's you."
John looked at her in fear and confusion before the door burst open and someone started shouting. Martha cursed under her breath and snatched the sonic screwdriver back, hissing to John under her breath as someone was vaporized on the spot.
"Mister Smith? Everything I told you, just forget it! Don't say anything."
The family with the weapons smirked, turning toward the whispering duo now that everyone had finally gone quiet.
"Now then, we have a few questions for Mister Smith."
A small girl stepped forward; smirk equally as wicked. "No, better than that. The teacher. He's the Doctor. I heard them talking."
"You took human form," the young man mused devilishly.
"Of course, I'm human," John argued, mind swirling at their accusations as something nagged at him from the back of his mind. "I was born human, as were you, Baines. And Jenny, and you, Mister Clark. What is going on? This is madness."
"Ooh, and a human brain too. Simple, thick, and dull."
"But he's no good like this," Jenny argued with Baines.
"We need a Time Lord," Mr. Clark agreed.
"Easily done," Baines huffed, taking a threatening step forward with his weapon raised. "Change back."
"I literally do not—"
"Enough."
Heads whipped around toward the main door where a familiar figure stepped in, looking worn and exhausted.
"Lawrence!" John exclaimed in relief, but he was ignored as Fallon stepped into the room as though the threat was nonexistent.
"Martha," Fallon said, not even giving the family a glance as she faced the relieved woman. "Get everyone out of here. I'll deal with them."
"But Fallon, the watch is missing. We can't—"
"Then, I'll buy you time but you need to get everyone out."
"Lawrence, you can't," John argued, and Fallon let out a heavy sigh, turning to him with the full weight of her years showing on her face, making him suddenly feel uneasy.
"I'm not who you think I am, John. Whatever you wanted wouldn't have worked and you don't even understand who you are. So, for right now, listen to me and go."
Baines took another step forward, a scowl spreading over his face. "Who are you?"
Fallon tipped her head back, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out before finally turning to face the family before her. "Fallongalaktikosdorhnii. The Fallen Angel. Fallon, for short, and if you really want to know, I'm going to be the biggest thorn in your side. Now, Martha, if you would?"
Martha nodded, grabbing John and starting to tug him along as she called for the others to evacuate as well. Joan hesitated and Fallon glanced at her from the corner of her eye, looking far too laid back to appear a threat to anyone at the moment. Yet, the longer Joan watched her, the more uncertain she felt at the person standing before her; hands in her coat pocket, glasses gone, and the look of someone who was tired of the world and with nothing to lose.
"Sorry," Fallon said then, surprising her as Fallon faced the family once more. "About missing the dance."
"I get the feeling there's something wrong…" Joan murmured. "Something wrong between us, with you…"
Falling cracked a bitter smirk. "Yeah. Yeah, there's definitely something wrong with me. Would've never worked out, really. Same with John. Bit too different is all… Go."
Joan nodded, hurrying out and helping Martha with the ever-stubborn John outside. Baines remained cautious but still attempted to appear threatening in the situation. After all, Fallon was unarmed.
"Our catch is getting away."
Fallon hardly looked bothered. "Hardly a catch if he isn't changed back. Bit useless really. Doesn't even know how to get back."
"But you know," Baines concluded, edging closer again while Jenny crept up behind her.
Fallon smirked; smile tinted with a hint of madness. "Yeah. Yeah, I sure do. There's just one problem." She leaned forward a bit, balancing precariously on her toes. "You couldn't get it out of me if you tried."
"We have our ways."
Fallon's smile dropped instantly onto something ice cold. "All the torture techniques in the universe couldn't break me. A boy like you doesn't stand a chance."
He growled, taking a step forward just as Jenny attempted to grab Fallon. Fallon was ready for this though, disarming Jenny in an instant, slamming her face into the ground, and drawing a cry of pain from her when her arm was easily snapped from the angle it'd been twisted to. The other family members took a threatening step forward but froze as Fallon leveled the gun with Baines' head, that same cold look boring holes into him.
"I've dealt with too much shit in the last few months to deal with this," she said calmly. "But trust me, I will gladly end this now if I need to. This is your chance. You won't like me when I've got nothing to lose."
Baines snarled. "So be it."
Guns went off and the village hall glowed green for a moment as Martha, John, and Joan looked back in uncertainty before taking off toward the school.
I woke up with a gasp, rolling onto my side and clutching at my shoulder as pain rippled through my body. I-It's okay. It's fine. I'm fine. I'm alive as always. I-I'm just recuperating after—
The gun flared green, shooting past Baines and possibly hitting someone but I didn't have a chance to see who as a burst of fire hit the left side of my chest and pain engulfed me.
I took in another shuddering breath, feeling the pain again and far more intensely. My fingers dug into my shoulder where I could still feel twisted, charred skin. It was healed now, of course, but the intensity of the pain, swimming vision, and cold sweat rolling down the back of my neck told a different story. It hasn't been long enough. I'm still—
A pained whimper escaped me as I curled into myself at another wave of agony and clenched my eyes shut tight. It wasn't often I woke up before the full healing process had worked itself out. I couldn't remember the last time it happened but it was never a good death. Even this one, though an instant death, was one that wasn't kind. I'm lucky all I got was the initial burn scar and not something far worse. What does their gun do anyway?
I cracked my eyes open and shifted slowly and carefully, attempting to get back onto my feet. I nearly collapsed a few times, but eventually managed to lean heavily against a wall and catch my breath. A quick glance around the room made me cringe as my eyes caught on a few piles of ash. One from the family's first victim—dead before I'd arrived—and the other undoubtedly one of the family themselves. I had hit someone.
A trickle of guilt eased through me before I turned my gaze away and stumbled my way toward the door. I adjusted my coat to cover my injured shoulder and ruined section of my clothing and faltered down the few steps leading to the pavement outside the village hall. I wasn't thinking straight for a variety of reasons. The slow recovery was one but my own mind was rather unstable.
"Too many things," I murmured under my breath, wincing and twitching my head to the side as though to jerk away from the voices that had started up again.
"You okay, Fallon?"
"Is everything all right, Sam?"
"Stevan? Stevan!"
"I don't have time for this," I snapped under my breath. "Just shut up. Give me some peace and quiet already. I just want quiet."
I tangled a hand in my hair before I heard loud voices calling from nearby. I begrudgingly moved towards the trees to see, my mind buzzing with the past as I struggled to move, let alone think. I don't even have to be here. I could leave. Just walk away. Why should I help? How does it benefit me? If I stay, then he'll… I remembered the ash on the floor and winced as bark jabbed into my hand from the tree I was leaning on and gripping tightly. He'll be upset, angry, disappointed… but why should I care? Why do I care? I've killed before—
Gunshots echoed in my ears, blasts from airships dropping bombs overhead, the squelching of shoes in the mud as shouts rang out to the troops.
I dug my fingers into the tree further, trying to use the pain to keep me present but the past was starting to get overwhelming. My mentality was slipping and I was struggling to grab hold.
Blood slipped through my fingers as the body sagged down on my sword and the corpse's still warm head hit my shoulder. Eventually, the knight fell to the ground, dead.
The family was standing around the Tardis—now out in the open—taunting the Doctor hiding within John and his watch. When John didn't come to retrieve his ship, they started to scatter into the forest and the snap of a twig sent my already frazzled mind on high alert. A young boy from the school was standing in front of me, not knowing I was there. I spotted the shine of light glint off something in his hand releasing wisps of golden whispers. It was the missing watch holding the Doctor, the real Doctor. My fist clenched before movement caught my attention. The family was on the move, closing in on the boy with their scarecrow servants.
"They're only children."
I lunged for him, wrapping a hand around his mouth to silence his scream while the other snapped the watch shut and hauled him back with me into the bushes around a large oak tree. We sank to the ground, hidden by its roots and the hedges and I shushed the squirming boy softly.
"Sh, be quiet. They're entering the forest."
He caught sight of me, recognizing me from the school, and stopped fighting back—a welcome relief as his squirming was making the pain flare up again. We waited for a while, listening to the soft footfalls of the straw lackeys and the complaints and sniffs of the family until they drifted off. I let the boy go and got up, only to cringe and falter. He grabbed me, worried as I attempted to push through the pain.
"W-We need to leave here. We can't stay," I bit out through the pain, looking at him and recognizing him as Latimer; one of the only boys who came to my office hours for maths. "Latimer, you need to get the watch to John. To Mr. Smith."
"But you're hurt."
"And I'll only hold you back," I countered, but he shook his head, looping my arm over his slender shoulders and pulling me with him as I stumbled along.
"I'm not leaving you. Mr. Sm—The Doctor would be upset if I did."
I wondered how he'd found out, but my mind wasn't working right. I couldn't think straight and Latimer's face was shifting into Stevan's as he hauled me through the muck and the rain.
"We'll make it. We promised…"
Blood splattered across my face—
A knocking startled me out of the memory that had overlapped with reality, causing me to jolt away, only for Latimer to keep hold and help keep me steady.
"It's okay Fallon."
"Are you okay, Sam?"
"We're safe here."
"W-We just need to get to the trench."
It was hard to breathe now, though I could feel my lungs taking in quick breaths of air. I was jittery and shaking my head, bringing a hand up to it and pulling at my hair as the door opened and Martha looked relieved.
"Thank god, you're okay," she breathed before spotting Latimer who held up the watch.
"I brought you this and something's wrong with Fallon. She's hurt."
I shook my head, hating how my vision swam with the motion, making the already mixed memories even worse. "I-I'm fine. Fine. Always, always fine."
"Help me get her in here."
"Lawrence!" John exclaimed, starting to head over, but Martha stopped him.
"Stay back for now. She needs room."
John froze, confused at the feminine pronoun and Joan moved toward him, grabbing his arm in comfort as Martha spoke calmly to Fallon as she panted heavily.
"Fallon? Fallon, can you hear me?"
Fallon glanced at her.
"You're in shock, I think, and hyperventilating. I need you to try and take deep breaths," Martha instructed, working her through deeper breaths for a moment until her breathing had calmed enough for Martha to look her over.
Upon seeing her battered coat and how Fallon gripped her shoulder tightly, Martha reached to look and Fallon shifted away.
"I just want to make sure you're okay," Martha explained, watching Fallon for any aggressive movements but seeing none as she reached for the coat.
Marhta knew something was wrong, after all. Fallon's outburst before in the Tardis and how she acted in the village hall told Martha a lot about how poor her mental health was. Martha didn't quite understand what exactly had triggered Fallon into this sort of mental relapse, but she'd seen a lot working her shifts at the hospital and recognized the signs of PTSD and panic attacks well enough. The Doctor might be able to handle her better but we don't exactly have him right now. Martha started to tug the coat away, glancing at Fallon and seeing her pointedly keeping her gaze on the floor and well away from John. Then again, maybe he was the cause.
Once the coat was moved, Martha grimaced at the pink, blistered skin. She hesitated, before speaking to Fallon, instructing what she was doing to try and keep Fallon grounded.
"I'm going to press on here, okay? Let me know if it hurts at all."
Fallon nodded ever so slightly and Martha brushed her fingers over the scar, pressing lightly in some spots and getting no significant reaction from Fallon. Martha knew she was in pain though. Her skin was hot to the touch as though she were feverish, and though Martha didn't get a big pain response, Fallon was stiff and unmoving, as though any movement at all caused her pain and she was just suppressing the response. Martha sighed, covering the injury again so the others wouldn't be bothered by the sight of it and she leaned closer to Fallon, speaking under her breath.
"I can't do much for the pain without the Tardis and I'm not sure how to help you, but can you at least tell me if you're okay?"
Fallon nodded weakly, sweat beading on her skin as she glanced at Martha with tired eyes. "I-I'm okay. Really. I just…" Fallon winced slightly, closing her eyes for a second to get a hold of herself. "I-I died and came back before I was ready."
Martha stared in shock. "You can do that?"
"S-Sometimes. Depends on the d-death."
Martha nodded and glanced back at the others who were standing by in concern before turning back to Fallon. "You're not okay though, are you? Mentally, I mean. You ran off earlier and… well, I know the signs of a panic attack."
Fallon looked away, shamefully. "I don't want to talk about it."
"And I'm not asking you to. I just… If you're really bad, I need to know."
Fallon scoffed, a bitter smile on her face. "Well, I'm definitely not good, if that helps." The smile fell quickly. "I'm just… I'm so tired."
Martha felt her heart clench tight at the look on Fallon's face. While having been told that Fallon was immortal, Martha hadn't quite understood the meaning of that. What immortality meant and what it could do to a person. This was what it could do. This was how immortality worked. It tore a person down into nothing but pain and memories; memories that lasted a lifetime. Martha couldn't help Fallon with this, and the only one who might was currently trapped in a watch while his other self stood by uselessly. Martha let out a sigh and got up, moving away from Fallon and approaching John, holding out the watch that Latimer had given her.
"Hold it."
John stiffened, eyeing the watch. "I won't."
"Please, just hold it," Martha begged and Latimer stepped forward.
"It told me to find you. It wants to be held."
Joan glanced at Latimer, mostly clued in to what was happening but still confused. "You've had this watch all this time? Why didn't you return it?"
"Because it was waiting. And because I was so scared of the Doctor," Latimer admitted.
"Why?"
"Because I've seen him. He's like fire and ice and rage. He's like the night and the storm in the heart of the sun."
"Stop it," John muttered, as though his words burned.
"He's ancient and forever. He burns at the center of time and he can see the turn of the universe."
"Stop it! I said stop it!"
"And he's wonderful."
"I've still got this," Joan said, pulling out the leather journal that John had shown her once Fallon had returned it.
"Those are just stories," John bit back.
"Now we know that's not true. Perhaps there's something in here."
A loud boom went off outside and Fallon was on her feet in an instant, rushing to the window and gripping the sill tight as she muttered under her breath.
"They're here. No, no, no. Not again. I don't want to go back to the trenches again. Stevan is…" She grimaced, grabbing her head and making Martha hurry over and pull her away from the window.
"Close the blinds," she demanded and Joan nodded, hurrying over and pausing only a moment to see the fire raining down on the village.
"They're destroying the village," she breathed, pulling the curtains shut to try and help Fallon who was seated once more and fighting to take deep breaths.
"The watch," John said, snatching it up from off the table and holding it as it whispered to him.
"Can you hear it?" Latimer asked as John stopped and stared at the watch in his palm.
"I think he's asleep. Waiting to awaken."
"Why did he speak to me?"
"Oh, low-level telepathic field. You were born with it. Just an extra synaptic engram causing—" John sucked in a gasp, having lost himself for a moment and feeling a hint of fear roll through him. "Is that how he talks?"
"That's him. All you have to do is open it and he's back," Martha said hopefully before another explosion went off outside, drawing Fallon's uncertain gaze to the curtains once more.
John glanced over there as well before turning back to Martha accusingly. "You knew this all along and yet you watched while Lawrence and I—"
"She's not Lawrence," Martha stopped him. "She never was. You heard her before. her name's Fallon. She's like me and travels with the Doctor, except…" Martha glanced at Fallon as the woman muttered something to herself and tugged at her hair. "...except he wasn't in love with her. He gave me a list of things to watch out, for but that wasn't included."
"Falling in love? That didn't even occur to him?"
Joan looked between the two, hurt swelling in her chest at the lies she'd been told and the love she'd had that could have never been. Martha understood that feeling far too well and sighed softly.
"No."
"Then what sort of man is that? And now you expect me to die?" John argued as Joan started flipping through the journal and another explosion went off, closer this time.
"It was always going to end, though!" Martha tried to explain, wishing Fallon might get control of herself to help with this mess. "The Doctor said the Family's got a limited lifespan, and that's why they need to consume a Time Lord. Otherwise, three months and they die. Like mayflies, he said."
"So your job was to execute me."
"People are dying out there. They need him and I need him. Because you've got no idea of what he's like. I've only just met him. It wasn't even that long ago. But he is everything. He's just everything to me and he doesn't even look at me, but I don't care, because I love him to bits. And I hope to God he won't remember me saying this." She turned to Fallon then, pointing accusingly. "You better not say anything either, Fallon."
Fallon scoffed, looking more exhausted now than on edge, though every echoing boom outside made her eyes flicker toward the window.
"I should have thought of it before. I can give them this," John said, holding up the watch. "Just the watch. Then they can leave and I can stay as I am."
"And then what?" Fallon said, drawing his eyes to her. "Because I'm not going to stay, John. I'm not going to sit here and build a family. I've done that before and it didn't turn out well for anyone. I'm not doing it again."
"Law—"
"It's Fallon," she bit out, rubbing at her face when another explosion went off outside. "And the longer you put this off, more people are dying. You give the Doctor up to them, and the whole damn world is forfeit. That's how they work."
John winced, looking away shamefully and hurt before Joan spoke up.
"She's right. I never read to the end, but those creatures would live forever to breed and conquer, for war across the stars for every child," she said softly, as John's lips quivered.
"W-What do I do?" He asked, torn with this decision. "I-I don't… I don't want to die."
"I'll go."
All eyes whipped around to Fallon as she straightened up in her seat as much as she could. John didn't know what to say but Martha hurried over toward her.
"You can't."
"Why not?" Fallon questioned. "They probably can't use me anyway. Can't really kill me."
"Fallon!" Martha blurted out, eyeing the other uneasily at what she'd said.
John looked hurt though, upset at her decision. "We can't even try?"
Fallon's gaze slid to his; eyes cold and exhausted. "It would never work, John. I'm not like you. I'm not even like the Doctor. I'm just giving you the chance to live how you'd like. I'll go and deal with them."
Martha looked between the two as Fallon got to her feet shakily. Martha took a step toward her but Fallon held up a hand, stopping her. She took a deep breath and straightened, moving toward the door and out of the cottage. Martha whirled to John who stared at the door in worry.
"You're just going to let her go?"
"I-I… I don't even know her."
"You were in love with her!"
Again, he hesitated, looking uncertain and glancing at the watch still in his grip. It was surprisingly silent, but he could feel the anxiousness emanating from within. The Doctor wanted to do something, to stop her, but the choice was still his.
"What are you going to do?" Joan asked him softly and he closed his hand over the watch, clenching his eyes shut tight as he made his decision.
I stumbled through the forest until I found the clearing I was looking for. My body ached terribly from the pain still rolling through me and a headache had bloomed just behind my eyes as the voices roared in my ears.
"I just want to help!"
"I can't trust you."
"You're lying. Always lying."
"We promised."
Another boom came from nearby and I cringed, stumbling and slamming my shoulder into a tree as I caught myself. Still, the memories flashed behind my eyelids, triggered by the sounds of screams and bombs.
"Stevan! Stevan, where are you!"
Shoes sank into the mud, threatening to trip soldiers who weren't paying attention but the thought of looking where you were going meant seeing the corpses of those who'd come before you.
"Can't… I can't keep thinking about it," I hissed to myself, reaching up and smacking my hand against the side of my head in a vain attempt to silence the memories. "Just sto—"
My wrist was grabbed and I turned to see John standing there, holding my hand to stop any further damage and eyeing me sadly. I thought about jerking my hand away, but something was off about him and I soon figured out what.
"Doctor."
He didn't admit it was him but the silence was enough of an answer.
"What happened to—"
"He made his choice," the Doctor murmured, slowly lowering my arm and eyeing it as he ran his thumb over the back of my battered knuckles.
I flinched slightly, the feeling painfully reminiscent of the fond touches John gave me back in his office and the Doctor stopped and let my hand go, turning away.
"Stay here."
I went to argue but he was already moving toward the clearing where the family's ship would be. Given my exhausted and weakened state, I stood no chance of catching up and begrudgingly leaned against the tree and sank to the ground. My eyes closed as silence came over the village, leaving the remnants of memories lingering but not nearly so intrusive as before. It was a welcome relief that led to me drifting off until something startled me awake.
I jerked upright, feeling hands grab my arms and drawing my attention to the Doctor as he calmed me.
"Sh, it's alright. It's just me, Fallon."
My heart still raced a bit but I relaxed and dropped my head into his shoulder in relief.
"I'm so tired," I murmured as he wrapped an arm across my back with a sigh.
"Yeah… Yeah, I know. I'm so sorry."
The Doctor paused outside the medbay, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before rapping his knuckles on the door and stepping into the room. Fallon was in the only bed, facing away from him and staring out the window the Tardis had provided. She was quiet and calm now, but the Doctor already knew what was coming.
He hadn't meant for things to be so stressful on her right off the bat. He knew there was something off since the trip they had where she'd been taken over by the parasitic sun but—as always—she'd kept it to herself. Because of that, he'd assumed that she was alright, that she was handling things herself when in reality, she was struggling on her own. He hadn't wanted that to happen. He wanted to help support her with her issues, not be shut out. Ultimately though, it wasn't up to him. She had to open up to him on her own and unfortunately, there hadn't been an opportunity for that because right after the sun came the trouble with the Family of Blood.
He eyed her silently, having not heard a sound from her since he'd helped her back into the Tardis and finished up what he needed to with Latimer, the family, and Joan. He was waiting for her to tell him something, anything about what she was dealing with, but he doubted he would get that from her. As she'd told him time and time again, they didn't know each other. Not really. All he could do was wait.
"I can't stay here."
The Doctor closed his eyes, bringing a hand up and pressing his fingers against his eyelids. This was what he'd expected, but most definitely not what he wanted. He just wasn't sure he could convince her otherwise.
Fallon sagged into her pillows with a sigh and turned toward him, her whole body teaming with exhaustion. "It's too much right now. I just… I'm not sure if I could…"
"I understand," the Doctor murmured, though the words tasted sour the second they passed over his lips.
Fallon knew this too but didn't comment on it as she glanced back at the window. "Sorry."
The Doctor shook his head, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and wringing his hands between his knees. "You don't have to apologize."
They settled into silence once more before Fallon spoke again.
"Who was John?"
"He was… part of me. He's still in here somewhere but he's not… me if that makes sense."
"So nothing he did was what you would've done."
"Everything he did was something I have the potential to do," the Doctor corrected. "I didn't expect him to have…" He rubbed the back of his neck, very aware of what feelings John had for Fallon. "I'm sorry if he did something inappropriate."
Fallon snorted, drawing his attention to her as she offered a small half-smile of amusement. "Everyone does something stupid at some point… Though I overreacted a bit as well. It wasn't terrible, I just…" She fidgetted awkwardly. "I knew John for two months. I've known you for days. Him being you or you being him… It just made it all messy and confusing. I'm not ready for something like that. Especially not with my mind all…" She waved at her head vaguely, earning a worried look from the Doctor.
"I really am sorry about that. If I could have chosen any other time—"
Fallon shrugged, reaching a hand up to hold her arm that was bandaged from her previous clawing at it. "A different time would've just meant different triggers. It was all just bad timing really. Too many things to think about… Too many similarities."
The Doctor took her hand, making her flinch but quickly relax. He saw her drifting and that was one of the reasons why he wasn't fighting against her leaving again. She needed help and until she was willing to open up to him, he couldn't give her that. She needed someone to keep her present because when she wasn't…
He took in a slow breath, letting her go and standing up. He didn't want to think about the missing member of the Family of Blood and the other who had been injured. He didn't want to remember what Martha had told him or what he remembered from John. Fallon had been unstable. Fallon was still unstable and there wasn't anything he could do but let her go. He stopped in the doorway, a hand on the frame as he glanced back at her.
"I'll drop you off when we go to recharge the Tardis in Cardiff. Hope that's alright."
"Yeah. Yeah, Cardiff is fine."
He nodded and hesitated once more before slipping out of the room and into the hall, hating the tight feeling in his chest.
I toyed with the phone in my hand, eyeing it in uncertainty for a while before looking up at the Doctor as he leaned casually against the console. "You're sure I can have this?"
"Yeah, why not? I've got dozens of them and this way we can keep in touch if you ever decide to come back."
"If you don't kidnap me first," I muttered, earning a small smile from him. "And you're sure this is Cardiff and not some random place or time?"
"Oh, ha, ha," he drawled. "Yes, I'm sure. I've already looked outside and it's definitely Cardiff. Wouldn't be charging otherwise."
I nodded, solemnly, and glanced at the door. "I better get going."
"Fallon."
I looked back at him as he stepped toward me and reached out, pulling me into a tight embrace that I easily welcomed and returned.
"Take care of yourself," he murmured, pulling away slightly and giving my arms a squeeze. "Anything you need, you let me know."
I cracked a small smile, hoping I'd felt better than I had the last few months, as I lifted the cell phone he'd given me. "I'll call."
He smiled back and nodded, letting me go somewhat reluctantly as I headed for the door, taking a deep breath and stepping back out into the world. It was Cardiff, thankfully, and around the same time period we'd left before all these adventures started. I closed the door behind me, hearing the Tardis almost groan with a similar reluctance as the Doctor's. I gave her a fond pat, running my hand down the wood.
"I'll try to come back eventually. Don't miss me too much."
The wood warmed under my hand and I pulled myself away and started the walk to the nearest train station, stumbling when someone ran by and clipped my shoulder.
"Sorry!" He shouted as I frowned, rubbing my shoulder and giving the winking chiseled man a dirty look as he continued running the way I'd come.
I shook my head and sighed, hoping the next few months or more would be far better for me than how the last few had been. Maybe I'll do what Sarah Jane said… I ran a hand through my hair and shook my head, stepping down into the underground, not knowing how hard things were about to get.
