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daylight_darknightAnd here we go again. My desperate last minute attempt to finish editing at least one of my former NaNoWriMo novels before I start the next one. Maybe this year I'll actually manage to finish editing more than one chapter.
Title: What Lies in Wait
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Martha, Mickey, 8th Doctor
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for swearing, violence, and scary stuff. Vague mentions of off screen torture.
Genre: Mystery, Angst
Word Count: This chapter 3,000 (Total 53,000)
Spoilers: Takes place after the Doctor Who episode Journey's End and after the 8th Doctor audio To the Death.
Summary: When Martha agreed to help Jack do a little inventory she wasn't expecting to find a Time Lord frozen in his basement and she certainly wasn't expecting what happened when they woke him up.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Martha took a deep breath and did her best to bring forth all the professional detachment medical school had tried to train into her. If she had had a choice, the Doctor wouldn't have been the first person she would've liked to try reviving from cryogenic suspension. It was one thing to be doing a potentially dangerous procedure for the first time. It was another to do it for the first time on one of your closest friends.
Everyone was gathered in the autopsy room waiting, listening to ancient machinery hum and rattle as the cryo-chamber was transferred up from cold storage. With one last click, the noise stopped. Martha reached forward, opened the door, and pulled out the chamber.
The Doctor lay inside pale and lifeless.
“Beginning stage one,” Martha declared as she keyed the sequence into the chamber.
The first step was easy. The initial defrosting was done by the cryo-chamber itself and only took a few minutes to complete, but the minutes seemed to drag on an incredibly long time. They waited again in tense silence, Martha keeping her eyes on the stasis unit the entire time.
A series of beeps sounded when the process was complete and the top of the chamber opened letting out a cloud of steam. Jack, with Ianto and Mickey's help, pulled the Doctor out of the chamber and quickly placed him onto the table in the middle of the room.
It took some careful manoeuvring but they managed to get the Doctor's leather coat off him. Ianto took the coat and, folding it almost reverently, put it aside. Beneath the coat, the Doctor wore a dark brown vest over a white shirt. Martha couldn't help noticing the scattering of red-brown stains covering it as she undid the buttons. When she'd finished opening the shirt, she froze.
The wounds on the Doctor's chest were many and stood out dark and ugly against the paleness of his skin.
Gwen gasped and Ianto looked away. Both of Mickey's hands clenched tightly into fists.
Only Jack didn't react, at least on the outside. He just stood there, arms crossed almost protectively across his chest.
“Martha,” he said, sounding surprisingly calm.
Martha shook her head pulling herself together once more. “Right,” she said and began attaching the monitoring devices to the Doctor's chest. “I'll just insert the IV and then I'll be ready to start.” Grabbing a needle, she found a vein in the Doctor's arm and inserted the catheter, the familiar motions doing much to settle her nerves.
“Good,” Jack said and turned taking a step towards the curved stairway. “I'll be in the other room watching on the monitor.”
Martha's head shot up as all her recently gained calm left her. “What?” she exclaimed in surprise. She'd been counting on Jack to be around as back up in case something went wrong. Jack might not be a doctor but he was much more of an expert on aliens and alien technology than she was. “Why?”
Turning back, Jack hesitated, his features screwed up in a complex set of emotions. “I just think it would be best if I wasn't here when he woke.”
“Why?” Martha demanded again. “I'd think of all of us you'd be the one he'd most want to see.”
The others gazed at him with equal incomprehension.
“Don't sell yourself short,” Jack said with a wink, and then taking a deep breath tried to explain, “I'm a fixed point in time, remember?”
“You mean the whole no dying thing?” said Mickey getting to the heart of the matter.
“Yes, the whole no dying thing,” Jack repeated with a sardonic tone. “Time Lords are time sensitive and I'm one great big walking, talking time anomaly. Probably not the first thing he wants to see after waking up after a century of cryosleep. It's best I wasn't here,” he repeated and turned to go once more.
Ianto caught his arm as he went past him. “Is that the only reason?”
“I'll be watching from the other room,” Jack said again slipping out of Ianto's grip and heading up the stairs and out of the lab.
The others watched him leave, Ianto's gaze lingering a touch longer than the rest.
“Ianto,” said Gwen nodding her head in the direction Jack had gone.
With a grateful look, Ianto hurried after their tight-lipped leader into the main room of the Hub.
“Alright,” Gwen said taking charge in Jack's absence. “We ready?”
“Ready,” said Martha feeling grateful for the Welshwoman's calm. She followed her example enshrouding herself in her professional demeanour once more. “Okay. Gwen, if I could get you to watch these screens.” She pointed to the monitors showing the Doctor's vitals, what little there was. “Keep an eye on the hearts, both of them, and let me know if there's any change in brain activity.”
“What about me?” asked Mickey coming to stand beside her.
Martha pointed to a spot near the head of the surgical table. “Stand there and be ready just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“Anything.”
Grim-faced, Mickey nodded.
“Here goes,” Martha said hoping that this wouldn't be the day when whatever divine destiny or fool's luck that had kept the Doctor alive so far finally failed him.
The syringe she used was more like a gun than a needle, the chemical inside an almost fluorescent blue. She injected it right into the Doctor's neck.
There was a tense silence as they watched for any change, but all was still.
“Gwen?” Martha asked when the moment had drawn on too long.
“Nothing,” she replied, and then her eyes widened. “No, wait.”
One of the lines on the monitor that had been a mere wobble before had begun to twitch and dance, small at first then growing larger.
“Brain activity's increasing,” Gwen announced. “And the right heart's started,” she added as a rhythmic spike began on another line, the monitor beeping in time though the beat was very slow. “But not the left.”
Loading more of the drug into the syringe, Martha injected the Doctor again.
“Anything?”
Gwen watched the monitor for a moment, and then shook her head. “No. And it looks like the right heart's starting to slow down.”
“Crap,” said Mickey.
Watching the videofeed in the other room, Ianto placed his hand on Jack's shoulder. The Captain himself was digging his fingers so forcefully into to his arms he'd soon be covered in bruises.
“You couldn't just do this the easy way, could you Doctor?” Martha muttered as she pulled the defibrillator cart over and began charging it. Once the voltage was high enough, she grabbed the paddles and cried, “Clear.”
The others backed away as she placed the paddles on the Doctor's scarred chest. His whole body jerked upward off the table before it became still once more.
For a moment that seemed to last forever, though was really only a fraction of a second, the whole room was silent and unmoving, every breath held as they waited for a sign. Then several things happened at once.
The monitor came alive with the sound of a loud double beat. At the same time, there was a gasp and the Doctor's eyes flew open, pale blue-grey eyes that seemed to take in the whole room at once. The change was so sudden everyone jumped and Martha almost dropped the defibrillator paddles.
In that first second, the Doctor seemed surprisingly calm for someone who had just woken up after a century long nap in a completely unknown place.
And then his eyes widened and he cried out, “No!”
The Doctor burst upward arms striking out at anything and everything nearby. This included Martha who was pushed back. She collided with Gwen and the two tumbled backwards against a wall. Mickey surged forward to help only to find himself knocked down to the floor along with the IV stand and the defibrillator cart.
Twisting around in a graceful spiral, the Doctor slid off the table and on to his feet managing to yank off all the cables attached to him as he did so. He ended up facing them with his back to a wall, crouched low, one arm raised as if to ward them off.
“No, no, no, no,” he repeated speaking very quickly. “I don't need surgery. My hearts are perfectly fine, thank you.”
He stood there breathing heavily, eye roving around the room.
There was a moment of shocked silence followed by some confusion as Martha, Mickey, and Gwen disentangled themselves and got back to their feet.
“It's okay,” Martha said. Raising her hands, she took a cautious step forward as if approaching a frightened animal. “It's alright. No one's planning to perform any surgery.”
“That's good to hear,” replied the Doctor though he remained crouched in place. “Uh... Where am I?”
Telling herself that shock and confusion were normal given the circumstances, Martha said, “Cardiff,” deciding it was best to stick to the basics for now.
The Doctor frowned. “Cardiff?”
“July 17, 2009,” Mickey provided helpfully.
The Doctor's rather intense gaze settled on him and Mickey shifted his feet uncomfortably feeling as if the Time Lord were studying him down to the last molecule.
“Yes,” the Doctor said. “That would've been my next question. I don't suppose you would mind another?”
Martha nodded feeling as if the situation was getting out of her control, not an unusual thing when the Doctor was involved. “Go ahead.”
“Who are you?”
And the penny dropped. Not just the penny but a dozen pound coins and crate load of golden doubloons.
“You don't know who we are?” Martha asked uncertain whether to be relieved or concerned.
Letting his warding hand fall, the Doctor straightened up, his face screwed up in thought. “My memory of recent events seems to be a bit fuzzy,” he admitted, “but no, I don't think we've met before. And yet...” He frowned, and then shook his head. “Sorry. Brain like an overcooked turnip. My memory's been messed with so much in recent years I'm surprised it hasn't turned into Swiss cheese.”
“But you're sure we've never met before?” said Martha.
“Pretty sure,” replied the Doctor. “Sorry to disappoint you,” he added when he saw their faces fall.
“We didn't completely screw up, did we?” asked Mickey. “I mean you are the Doctor?”
The Time Lord looked warily at him. “How do you know my name?” His gaze went from Mickey to Martha to Gwen but the three were busy exchanging their own uneasy glances.
“What in the name of the Seven Systems is going on here?” the Doctor demanded.
“Does this mean...?” began Gwen.
“I'm afraid so,” Martha replied, her mind racing through the implications. She might not be an expert on time travel but if her time spent with the Doctor had taught her one thing it was that you did not mess with the time lines. Unfortunately, he'd never gotten around to telling her what to do if you happened to do so by accident.
“I think we've got a problem,” Mickey declared.
“Personally, I think we have quite a lot of problems,” said the Doctor, testily. “Personally, I'd really like to know what you were doing to me, how I ended up here, and why you seem to know me.”
“You were in cryogenic stasis,” Martha explained wondering how much they should actually tell him. “We woke you up.”
The Doctor frowned again. “I don't remember going into stasis. How long was I asleep?”
“Eighty-two years,” said Martha.
If a human had been told that they'd have been shocked or upset, the Doctor just looked confused. “I don't suppose any of you happen to know why?”
“We were hoping you could tell us,” said Mickey.
“Well, I'm afraid I'm not going to be much help in that area,” the Doctor said with a sigh. “My memory's still... I don't even remember coming here. What is this place anyway? You said this was 2009, but most of this technology hasn't been invented yet and some of it shouldn't even be on this planet.”
“This is Torchwood,” said Gwen speaking for her team.
“Torchwood,” the Doctor repeated looking thoughtful. “Torchwood. That rings a few bells.” He gazed into the distance. “Torchwood. The Torchwood institute.” Suddenly, his eyes lit up. “Yes, now I'm beginning to remember! It was spring 1927. I was wandering around Tiger Bay, exploring Cardiff's thriving and somewhat notorious docklands. I noticed something odd about one of the warehouses, so I went to investigate. There was a cloaked ship. A group of Balavastrans had gotten themselves stranded. I was trying to help fix their ship when some other people found them as well, but they weren't so much interested in helping the Balavastrans as eliminating them.” He stared at the occupants of the autopsy room his gaze growing distrustful once more. “Those people called themselves Torchwood.”
“Torchwood exists to stop alien threats,” Gwen explained, “to keep Earth safe.”
“The Balavastrans weren't a threat,” said the Doctor. “They were simply interstellar tourists with a bit of engine trouble. The worst they would've done was steal a few souvenirs. There was no reason to go in guns blazing. Fortunately, I was able to help them get away with only minimal casualties though your people weren't too happy about that fact.”
Mickey smirked. “Same old Doctor, saving people and pissing them off.”
The Doctor's eyes snapped back to him, his gaze becoming calculating. “So not only do you know my name but who I am as well,” he observed. “Which is strange considering I very much recall not telling Torchwood who I was. In fact, I recall them being very cross about that fact.” He winced suddenly and rubbed a hand across his forehead.
“Are you alright?” asked Martha.
“I'm fine,” the Doctor said dismissively. “Just a headache.”
“I should look you over.” Martha grabbed one of the nearby scanning devices. “Do a thorough exam to make sure the cryogenic process didn't cause any damage.” She tried to approach the Doctor with the scanner but the Time Lord held up his hands bringing her to a halt.
“I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to decline.”
“But I need to...” began Martha but the Doctor interrupted.
“In case you've forgotten,” he said pacing slowly back and forth making sure to keep everyone in sight and at a distance. “I still don't have any idea who you are, and though my memory is still fuzzy, from what I remember of Torchwood, I wouldn't want them getting near me with a tuning fork let alone any medical instruments. So you'll have to excuse me if I don't jump for joy at the thought of your tender ministrations.”
“Torchwood's changed since then,” Martha insisted desperately trying to think of a way of getting him to trust them without revealing too much.
“Yet you're still obviously keeping secrets, and the fact that you mysteriously seem to know who I am...” He suddenly stopped pacing as realization dawned on his face. “Oh. I see.” He stared at them as if he were seeing them in a new light. “I see. I see. I see. We have met before, haven't we?”
Martha, Mickey, and Gwen fidgeted uncomfortably avoiding his gaze.
“Just not yet,” the Doctor concluded.
Mickey looked sheepish and rubbed the back of his head. “Guess I should be a bit more careful about what I say.”
“Yes, time lines and all that,” said the Doctor. “Don't want to mess up the web of time. Also it can be terribly awkward and embarrassing crossing your own time line especially when you run into yourself. I always seem to end up arguing with myself. Like I said, terribly embarrassing.”
“Running into yourself?” said Gwen. “I don't know much about time travel, but isn't that a really bad idea.”
“Usually,” said the Doctor, “but it's a bit different for Time Lords.” He took a step towards them hands clasped casually behind his back. “So, are you going to introduce yourselves? Since I don't actually know you yet and I'd really rather not go around saying, 'hey, you'.”
Martha hesitated a moment then decided it was a little late to worry about such things. “I'm Martha, this Gwen, and that's Mickey,” she said pointing to them each in turn.
The Doctor looked at them expectantly. “And we're... what? Friends? Enemies? Passing acquaintances?”
“Friends. Old friends,” said Martha. “Well, Mickey and I are. Gwen is...”
“A friend of a friend,” she filled in. “We've talked before, but we've never actually met in person, and you were, well, different then.”
“Ah, so not only have you met my future self, but it was also a different incarnation. Interesting.” The Doctor sounded thoughtful.
“This isn't going to be a problem, is it?” Mickey asked with some apprehension. “I mean meeting out of order like this isn't going to cause...”
“Dire calamity?” the Doctor finished for him. “Extreme catastrophe? The end of the universe as we know it? No, I don't think so. The web of time is quite adept at handling such minor incongruities. They happen surprisingly often. A bit too often in my case.”
“That's good to hear,” said Gwen with relief. Some of the tension drained from the room.
“Yes, it's always so inconvenient when the universe starts ending,” said the Doctor nonchalantly. “So you're my friends?”
Martha nodded. “For several years now.”
“And yet you're associated with Tochwood? Not exactly the sort of place I like to pick my friends from.”
“Technically,” said Gwen. “I'm the only one who's a member of Torchwood, and I'd like to think it has changed quite a bit since 1927.”
The Doctor turned to Martha and Mickey. “So you two...”
“We're just helping out with a few things,” said Martha. “I'm a medical officer with UNIT, and Mickey's, well...”
“I work freelance,” said Mickey.
“UNIT. Good old UNIT,” the Doctor said wistfully. “I suppose the Brigadier must have been retired for quite some time now.”
Martha smiled. “Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart is technically retired, but he still somehow seems to find his way into the middle of pretty much everything.”
The Doctor's face split into a large grin. It was the first time he'd smiled since he'd woken up and it changed his entire features taking them from tired and haggard to young and alive. “I wouldn't expect anything less from him,” he said.
“Alistair never does know when to step down.”
All heads jerked upward in unison in the direction of the new voice.
Jack stood on the upper level staring down at them, Ianto hovering behind his shoulder like a shadow.
“Welcome to Torchwood, Doctor.”
Chapter 4
Title: What Lies in Wait
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Martha, Mickey, 8th Doctor
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for swearing, violence, and scary stuff. Vague mentions of off screen torture.
Genre: Mystery, Angst
Word Count: This chapter 3,000 (Total 53,000)
Spoilers: Takes place after the Doctor Who episode Journey's End and after the 8th Doctor audio To the Death.
Summary: When Martha agreed to help Jack do a little inventory she wasn't expecting to find a Time Lord frozen in his basement and she certainly wasn't expecting what happened when they woke him up.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Martha took a deep breath and did her best to bring forth all the professional detachment medical school had tried to train into her. If she had had a choice, the Doctor wouldn't have been the first person she would've liked to try reviving from cryogenic suspension. It was one thing to be doing a potentially dangerous procedure for the first time. It was another to do it for the first time on one of your closest friends.
Everyone was gathered in the autopsy room waiting, listening to ancient machinery hum and rattle as the cryo-chamber was transferred up from cold storage. With one last click, the noise stopped. Martha reached forward, opened the door, and pulled out the chamber.
The Doctor lay inside pale and lifeless.
“Beginning stage one,” Martha declared as she keyed the sequence into the chamber.
The first step was easy. The initial defrosting was done by the cryo-chamber itself and only took a few minutes to complete, but the minutes seemed to drag on an incredibly long time. They waited again in tense silence, Martha keeping her eyes on the stasis unit the entire time.
A series of beeps sounded when the process was complete and the top of the chamber opened letting out a cloud of steam. Jack, with Ianto and Mickey's help, pulled the Doctor out of the chamber and quickly placed him onto the table in the middle of the room.
It took some careful manoeuvring but they managed to get the Doctor's leather coat off him. Ianto took the coat and, folding it almost reverently, put it aside. Beneath the coat, the Doctor wore a dark brown vest over a white shirt. Martha couldn't help noticing the scattering of red-brown stains covering it as she undid the buttons. When she'd finished opening the shirt, she froze.
The wounds on the Doctor's chest were many and stood out dark and ugly against the paleness of his skin.
Gwen gasped and Ianto looked away. Both of Mickey's hands clenched tightly into fists.
Only Jack didn't react, at least on the outside. He just stood there, arms crossed almost protectively across his chest.
“Martha,” he said, sounding surprisingly calm.
Martha shook her head pulling herself together once more. “Right,” she said and began attaching the monitoring devices to the Doctor's chest. “I'll just insert the IV and then I'll be ready to start.” Grabbing a needle, she found a vein in the Doctor's arm and inserted the catheter, the familiar motions doing much to settle her nerves.
“Good,” Jack said and turned taking a step towards the curved stairway. “I'll be in the other room watching on the monitor.”
Martha's head shot up as all her recently gained calm left her. “What?” she exclaimed in surprise. She'd been counting on Jack to be around as back up in case something went wrong. Jack might not be a doctor but he was much more of an expert on aliens and alien technology than she was. “Why?”
Turning back, Jack hesitated, his features screwed up in a complex set of emotions. “I just think it would be best if I wasn't here when he woke.”
“Why?” Martha demanded again. “I'd think of all of us you'd be the one he'd most want to see.”
The others gazed at him with equal incomprehension.
“Don't sell yourself short,” Jack said with a wink, and then taking a deep breath tried to explain, “I'm a fixed point in time, remember?”
“You mean the whole no dying thing?” said Mickey getting to the heart of the matter.
“Yes, the whole no dying thing,” Jack repeated with a sardonic tone. “Time Lords are time sensitive and I'm one great big walking, talking time anomaly. Probably not the first thing he wants to see after waking up after a century of cryosleep. It's best I wasn't here,” he repeated and turned to go once more.
Ianto caught his arm as he went past him. “Is that the only reason?”
“I'll be watching from the other room,” Jack said again slipping out of Ianto's grip and heading up the stairs and out of the lab.
The others watched him leave, Ianto's gaze lingering a touch longer than the rest.
“Ianto,” said Gwen nodding her head in the direction Jack had gone.
With a grateful look, Ianto hurried after their tight-lipped leader into the main room of the Hub.
“Alright,” Gwen said taking charge in Jack's absence. “We ready?”
“Ready,” said Martha feeling grateful for the Welshwoman's calm. She followed her example enshrouding herself in her professional demeanour once more. “Okay. Gwen, if I could get you to watch these screens.” She pointed to the monitors showing the Doctor's vitals, what little there was. “Keep an eye on the hearts, both of them, and let me know if there's any change in brain activity.”
“What about me?” asked Mickey coming to stand beside her.
Martha pointed to a spot near the head of the surgical table. “Stand there and be ready just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“Anything.”
Grim-faced, Mickey nodded.
“Here goes,” Martha said hoping that this wouldn't be the day when whatever divine destiny or fool's luck that had kept the Doctor alive so far finally failed him.
The syringe she used was more like a gun than a needle, the chemical inside an almost fluorescent blue. She injected it right into the Doctor's neck.
There was a tense silence as they watched for any change, but all was still.
“Gwen?” Martha asked when the moment had drawn on too long.
“Nothing,” she replied, and then her eyes widened. “No, wait.”
One of the lines on the monitor that had been a mere wobble before had begun to twitch and dance, small at first then growing larger.
“Brain activity's increasing,” Gwen announced. “And the right heart's started,” she added as a rhythmic spike began on another line, the monitor beeping in time though the beat was very slow. “But not the left.”
Loading more of the drug into the syringe, Martha injected the Doctor again.
“Anything?”
Gwen watched the monitor for a moment, and then shook her head. “No. And it looks like the right heart's starting to slow down.”
“Crap,” said Mickey.
Watching the videofeed in the other room, Ianto placed his hand on Jack's shoulder. The Captain himself was digging his fingers so forcefully into to his arms he'd soon be covered in bruises.
“You couldn't just do this the easy way, could you Doctor?” Martha muttered as she pulled the defibrillator cart over and began charging it. Once the voltage was high enough, she grabbed the paddles and cried, “Clear.”
The others backed away as she placed the paddles on the Doctor's scarred chest. His whole body jerked upward off the table before it became still once more.
For a moment that seemed to last forever, though was really only a fraction of a second, the whole room was silent and unmoving, every breath held as they waited for a sign. Then several things happened at once.
The monitor came alive with the sound of a loud double beat. At the same time, there was a gasp and the Doctor's eyes flew open, pale blue-grey eyes that seemed to take in the whole room at once. The change was so sudden everyone jumped and Martha almost dropped the defibrillator paddles.
In that first second, the Doctor seemed surprisingly calm for someone who had just woken up after a century long nap in a completely unknown place.
And then his eyes widened and he cried out, “No!”
The Doctor burst upward arms striking out at anything and everything nearby. This included Martha who was pushed back. She collided with Gwen and the two tumbled backwards against a wall. Mickey surged forward to help only to find himself knocked down to the floor along with the IV stand and the defibrillator cart.
Twisting around in a graceful spiral, the Doctor slid off the table and on to his feet managing to yank off all the cables attached to him as he did so. He ended up facing them with his back to a wall, crouched low, one arm raised as if to ward them off.
“No, no, no, no,” he repeated speaking very quickly. “I don't need surgery. My hearts are perfectly fine, thank you.”
He stood there breathing heavily, eye roving around the room.
There was a moment of shocked silence followed by some confusion as Martha, Mickey, and Gwen disentangled themselves and got back to their feet.
“It's okay,” Martha said. Raising her hands, she took a cautious step forward as if approaching a frightened animal. “It's alright. No one's planning to perform any surgery.”
“That's good to hear,” replied the Doctor though he remained crouched in place. “Uh... Where am I?”
Telling herself that shock and confusion were normal given the circumstances, Martha said, “Cardiff,” deciding it was best to stick to the basics for now.
The Doctor frowned. “Cardiff?”
“July 17, 2009,” Mickey provided helpfully.
The Doctor's rather intense gaze settled on him and Mickey shifted his feet uncomfortably feeling as if the Time Lord were studying him down to the last molecule.
“Yes,” the Doctor said. “That would've been my next question. I don't suppose you would mind another?”
Martha nodded feeling as if the situation was getting out of her control, not an unusual thing when the Doctor was involved. “Go ahead.”
“Who are you?”
And the penny dropped. Not just the penny but a dozen pound coins and crate load of golden doubloons.
“You don't know who we are?” Martha asked uncertain whether to be relieved or concerned.
Letting his warding hand fall, the Doctor straightened up, his face screwed up in thought. “My memory of recent events seems to be a bit fuzzy,” he admitted, “but no, I don't think we've met before. And yet...” He frowned, and then shook his head. “Sorry. Brain like an overcooked turnip. My memory's been messed with so much in recent years I'm surprised it hasn't turned into Swiss cheese.”
“But you're sure we've never met before?” said Martha.
“Pretty sure,” replied the Doctor. “Sorry to disappoint you,” he added when he saw their faces fall.
“We didn't completely screw up, did we?” asked Mickey. “I mean you are the Doctor?”
The Time Lord looked warily at him. “How do you know my name?” His gaze went from Mickey to Martha to Gwen but the three were busy exchanging their own uneasy glances.
“What in the name of the Seven Systems is going on here?” the Doctor demanded.
“Does this mean...?” began Gwen.
“I'm afraid so,” Martha replied, her mind racing through the implications. She might not be an expert on time travel but if her time spent with the Doctor had taught her one thing it was that you did not mess with the time lines. Unfortunately, he'd never gotten around to telling her what to do if you happened to do so by accident.
“I think we've got a problem,” Mickey declared.
“Personally, I think we have quite a lot of problems,” said the Doctor, testily. “Personally, I'd really like to know what you were doing to me, how I ended up here, and why you seem to know me.”
“You were in cryogenic stasis,” Martha explained wondering how much they should actually tell him. “We woke you up.”
The Doctor frowned again. “I don't remember going into stasis. How long was I asleep?”
“Eighty-two years,” said Martha.
If a human had been told that they'd have been shocked or upset, the Doctor just looked confused. “I don't suppose any of you happen to know why?”
“We were hoping you could tell us,” said Mickey.
“Well, I'm afraid I'm not going to be much help in that area,” the Doctor said with a sigh. “My memory's still... I don't even remember coming here. What is this place anyway? You said this was 2009, but most of this technology hasn't been invented yet and some of it shouldn't even be on this planet.”
“This is Torchwood,” said Gwen speaking for her team.
“Torchwood,” the Doctor repeated looking thoughtful. “Torchwood. That rings a few bells.” He gazed into the distance. “Torchwood. The Torchwood institute.” Suddenly, his eyes lit up. “Yes, now I'm beginning to remember! It was spring 1927. I was wandering around Tiger Bay, exploring Cardiff's thriving and somewhat notorious docklands. I noticed something odd about one of the warehouses, so I went to investigate. There was a cloaked ship. A group of Balavastrans had gotten themselves stranded. I was trying to help fix their ship when some other people found them as well, but they weren't so much interested in helping the Balavastrans as eliminating them.” He stared at the occupants of the autopsy room his gaze growing distrustful once more. “Those people called themselves Torchwood.”
“Torchwood exists to stop alien threats,” Gwen explained, “to keep Earth safe.”
“The Balavastrans weren't a threat,” said the Doctor. “They were simply interstellar tourists with a bit of engine trouble. The worst they would've done was steal a few souvenirs. There was no reason to go in guns blazing. Fortunately, I was able to help them get away with only minimal casualties though your people weren't too happy about that fact.”
Mickey smirked. “Same old Doctor, saving people and pissing them off.”
The Doctor's eyes snapped back to him, his gaze becoming calculating. “So not only do you know my name but who I am as well,” he observed. “Which is strange considering I very much recall not telling Torchwood who I was. In fact, I recall them being very cross about that fact.” He winced suddenly and rubbed a hand across his forehead.
“Are you alright?” asked Martha.
“I'm fine,” the Doctor said dismissively. “Just a headache.”
“I should look you over.” Martha grabbed one of the nearby scanning devices. “Do a thorough exam to make sure the cryogenic process didn't cause any damage.” She tried to approach the Doctor with the scanner but the Time Lord held up his hands bringing her to a halt.
“I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to decline.”
“But I need to...” began Martha but the Doctor interrupted.
“In case you've forgotten,” he said pacing slowly back and forth making sure to keep everyone in sight and at a distance. “I still don't have any idea who you are, and though my memory is still fuzzy, from what I remember of Torchwood, I wouldn't want them getting near me with a tuning fork let alone any medical instruments. So you'll have to excuse me if I don't jump for joy at the thought of your tender ministrations.”
“Torchwood's changed since then,” Martha insisted desperately trying to think of a way of getting him to trust them without revealing too much.
“Yet you're still obviously keeping secrets, and the fact that you mysteriously seem to know who I am...” He suddenly stopped pacing as realization dawned on his face. “Oh. I see.” He stared at them as if he were seeing them in a new light. “I see. I see. I see. We have met before, haven't we?”
Martha, Mickey, and Gwen fidgeted uncomfortably avoiding his gaze.
“Just not yet,” the Doctor concluded.
Mickey looked sheepish and rubbed the back of his head. “Guess I should be a bit more careful about what I say.”
“Yes, time lines and all that,” said the Doctor. “Don't want to mess up the web of time. Also it can be terribly awkward and embarrassing crossing your own time line especially when you run into yourself. I always seem to end up arguing with myself. Like I said, terribly embarrassing.”
“Running into yourself?” said Gwen. “I don't know much about time travel, but isn't that a really bad idea.”
“Usually,” said the Doctor, “but it's a bit different for Time Lords.” He took a step towards them hands clasped casually behind his back. “So, are you going to introduce yourselves? Since I don't actually know you yet and I'd really rather not go around saying, 'hey, you'.”
Martha hesitated a moment then decided it was a little late to worry about such things. “I'm Martha, this Gwen, and that's Mickey,” she said pointing to them each in turn.
The Doctor looked at them expectantly. “And we're... what? Friends? Enemies? Passing acquaintances?”
“Friends. Old friends,” said Martha. “Well, Mickey and I are. Gwen is...”
“A friend of a friend,” she filled in. “We've talked before, but we've never actually met in person, and you were, well, different then.”
“Ah, so not only have you met my future self, but it was also a different incarnation. Interesting.” The Doctor sounded thoughtful.
“This isn't going to be a problem, is it?” Mickey asked with some apprehension. “I mean meeting out of order like this isn't going to cause...”
“Dire calamity?” the Doctor finished for him. “Extreme catastrophe? The end of the universe as we know it? No, I don't think so. The web of time is quite adept at handling such minor incongruities. They happen surprisingly often. A bit too often in my case.”
“That's good to hear,” said Gwen with relief. Some of the tension drained from the room.
“Yes, it's always so inconvenient when the universe starts ending,” said the Doctor nonchalantly. “So you're my friends?”
Martha nodded. “For several years now.”
“And yet you're associated with Tochwood? Not exactly the sort of place I like to pick my friends from.”
“Technically,” said Gwen. “I'm the only one who's a member of Torchwood, and I'd like to think it has changed quite a bit since 1927.”
The Doctor turned to Martha and Mickey. “So you two...”
“We're just helping out with a few things,” said Martha. “I'm a medical officer with UNIT, and Mickey's, well...”
“I work freelance,” said Mickey.
“UNIT. Good old UNIT,” the Doctor said wistfully. “I suppose the Brigadier must have been retired for quite some time now.”
Martha smiled. “Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart is technically retired, but he still somehow seems to find his way into the middle of pretty much everything.”
The Doctor's face split into a large grin. It was the first time he'd smiled since he'd woken up and it changed his entire features taking them from tired and haggard to young and alive. “I wouldn't expect anything less from him,” he said.
“Alistair never does know when to step down.”
All heads jerked upward in unison in the direction of the new voice.
Jack stood on the upper level staring down at them, Ianto hovering behind his shoulder like a shadow.
“Welcome to Torchwood, Doctor.”
Chapter 4
