Disclaimer: I own nothing – it's all owned by the BBC
Author Notes: Set during the New!Who series 3 episode 'The Family of Blood'. A missing scene fic, probably AU. Contains references to both TV and New Adventure stories (Koschei was the name given to the young Master before he left Gallifrey in one of the novels). All feedback is welcome, thank you!
BECOMING
Everything is changed by a pocket watch.
It happens after Tim defiantly flips it open and throws it into the Doctor's hands. For a few moments more, he is John Smith - amiable schoolteacher and nervous suitor of Nurse Joan Redfern, perfectly content with his simple human life.
Then knowledge and memories begin to seep into him and he changes. Something is invading his mind. The words and pictures of his notebook are become real living breathing facts, and he can feel John Smith being ripped away from him.
The first thing he's newly aware of is the urge for a good strong cup of tea.
Gallifrey. He can taste the word on his tongue and it is suddenly a bright spark with thousands of vivid connotations. He can remember the burnt orange skies and the silver trees, and Lungbarrow, his ancestral home (the prison his forefathers built for him).
It is impossible to imagine forgetting all this. This was his genesis, all he'd been before he ran away towards life that was moving instead of standing still. It was a place with roots that reached all the way through eternity, anchored and strong and immoveable. It was home.
The Prydonian Academy and so many school days spent messing up Koschei's time experiments and explaining yet another rebellious mishap to Borusa.
Hours spent with Susan, seeing his own wonder and curiosity reflected in her eyes, and knowing that she too would be wasted and discontented confined to this one planet.
And later there was Romana and her beautiful knowing smile that spoke of how she knew him and that he didn't need to spout nonsense, but she was glad he did anyway. Time Lady President and just as regal when she was clinging onto his TARDIS console for dear life.
But then the memories curdle as more of himself is unleashed and he sees the resolved look in Romana's eyes as she said goodbye. He doesn't even know where she fell, if his actions unmade her.
Now Gallifrey becomes cinders and ash and a deep aching loneliness. And there's quiet guilt too, at pressing the button and still being able to breathe. There's fires and burning and above all there's the screams of the dying and the metallic shrieks that he thought nothing would ever be able to erase.
EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!
They're always there, tucked into the back of his mind and scraping at his dreams. He'd forgotten how they hurt and how overwhelming they can be when he's not always moving. Perhaps ignorance really can bring bliss.
The Doctor shakes his head in a sudden violent motion. No, he knows that thought is wrong. No matter how right or comfortable being here felt, he knows, remembers, that hiding is not the solution. It was the answer for a while, a carefully constructed shield, a shelter from death. It's not right. It wasn't meant to be anything more, it can't be, never mind that leaving it behind tears Smith's human heart in two. He was not made for a life in one place.
He can't abandon the memories of his people and their world, the two opposite halves of beauty and burning. Because if he doesn't remember it all, then who will? Gallifrey will truly be gone then.
His past selves are returning too. He sees them and the faces of the people he took in through their eyes. Susan again who never disappointed him; she took the slow road and had children and grandchildren and a fantastic life. What John Smith can never have.
He can see all the places he's visited; planets, fortresses, landscapes, frozen seas, and a great many jail cells (he wonders if that's a comment on his character) and the revolutions and the crowds and so many starry expanses of sky.
Oh, but there is pain to go with all this goodness. Of course there is. There is the war, a threatening presence at the edges of his mind and he remembers how he learnt to suppress it. There's Katarina, Sara Kingdom, and Adric – crosses on his conscience that he'll never discard because he was supposed to keep them safe.
So many friends that have been wiped out and so many he'll never see again. All those people he's travelled with, that inspire him with their journeys and their lives. They sleep inside his mind, and he never talks about them. Because he has to keep going and he remembers them and that's enough. He almost lost that, lost his friends. The thought burns quietly and he can feel his anger growing at the family who've forced him to wipe out everything that mattered to him.
Everything's sliding back into his veins, the fundamental parts of who he is and what he has been. The part that was John Smith is fading rapidly and, though he makes a game attempt to grasp it, it slides away like a shadow to some deep recess inside of him.
It isn't who he is anymore. But it leaves behind a tempting whisper of the contentment he could have if he chose to hide from all the pain and stay in just one place, leaving his alien self (and the corpses and the tormenting memories) behind.
But then these thoughts are swept aside by a spreading warmth and then he remembers Rose and he feels as though he's viewing her through smoke. She's a fading photograph, a wish, something he must have imagined (because he doesn't dream). But her smile and her tears when she told him she loved him are true and then the memories of her become brilliant and clear and real. She didn't love a story like Joan did. Rose loved every alien inch of him, two hearts and all.
She pulled him back from the brink once and her absence now is a wound still healing. Remembering her like this, a revelation, is fresh pain. But all those memories, of how he showed her the universe and she helped him live again and how they both saved worlds, shower through his mind and he is so grateful again that he met her.
He knows why he must go on.
With Rose comes the reassuring humming presence of the TARDIS. It's warm and golden in his mind, like a loving caress. She is welcoming him back and is so glad to no longer be alone. He reaches out too, smiling at her in thanks. Part of him doesn't feel so empty now.
Hello, old girl. Did you miss me?
His companions are a thread throughout his memory, a lifeline at times, and this leads him to Martha. Clever Martha who came for 'just one trip' (how many times has he lied to himself with that line?) and pushes him when he won't talk and always wants to know answers, relentless in her pursuit of knowledge. Throughout Smith and the Doctor, she is a constant and determined presence.
Then he opens his eyes and the first person he sees is Joan. For a moment, he sees her through Smith's eyes and she's beautiful. She is strong and enduring and she shines in this hard tough time in Earth's history because she will not stop helping others. The ghost of Smith fades and to his surprise, she's still beautiful. On her face is deep sadness and shock and that's when the Doctor realises he's screaming.
He doesn't even remember drawing in breath to make the sound. But he can hear it now, the pain and the volume and how it's ripping at his throat. With some effort, he stops and swallows.
Joan's expression doesn't change, but her posture sags with what could be relief or perhaps disappointment. Can she see the change past the identical face? Something that could be love stirs in the Doctor's hearts as he gazes at her, but this feeling belongs to someone else. It isn't fair to think of her with second-hand emotions.
What he does feel he slides into that part of himself that a French courtesan resides in. Joan may not have entered his mind as Reinette did, but she got under his very human skin and an echo of that remains. And he is so very sorry that he has effectively killed the man she loved.
"Doctor?"
He turns, with great effort, to see Martha. She's sat by Tim, an arm wrapped around him protectively. Perhaps to reassure him that he made the right decision in unleashing the Time Lord and destroying the man. Tim doesn't look afraid, instead his expression is worried and full of wonder. There's an ache as the Doctor looks at this human child who sees what other people don't and is so very lonely. Despite the horrors he saw in the watch, Tim never stopped believing in the Doctor.
And he's wonderful.
The Doctor shakes his head at that memory. He drops his gaze to stare at the watch in his hand and realises that what Smith had assumed were patterns on the back are in fact Gallifreyan text. He grips the watch a little tighter, a tiny solid reminder of home, and slips it into his pocket for the moment.
As his gaze rises again to Martha, there's another rush of memories, more recent and with sharp edges, of what she has done whilst he has been ignorant of what he is. And still she's in danger because the family are sniffing them out and now that he's a Time Lord again, it's as though he's lit a beacon for the world to see against the night sky. After all he's put her through to keep her safe, they're faced with the very real possibility that everyone's lives will end tonight.
He nods, getting used to his body again and settling into his skin. It feels different from when he was Smith; it is more lived in and creased and covered in scars. He flexes a hand experimentally, feels his young joints move. Such a deception.
"Martha?"
It comes out as a soft question because, even though she's wearing a muddy maid's uniform, he sees her in maroon leather and the fitted jeans that her century is so fond of. His mind is having trouble fitting the two images together into the same person. He squints, no, that doesn't help either, and shakes his head again.
Martha's movements are guarded as she looks up at him and then gets to her feet, one hand staying on Tim's shoulder. The Doctor may still be in Smith's clothes, but his posture has changed and the way he looks around him is so different to the polite reserved gaze she has become unhappily accustomed to. Martha's heart thumps silently with hope and there's a dizzying rush of painful relief as something inside her says that yes, he is back.
"It's really you, isn't it?" she voices, stepping closer.
There's a pause as they look at each other and then Martha grabs his nearest wrist, her fingertips pressed to the right area just so that she's sure. Yup, there's two heartbeats. She lets go.
The Doctor nods, a soft and real smile (so different to the wide grin that he frequently uses as a mask) taking over his expression. Martha manages to smile back because she's not going to be forced to stay here in the past and live like this and she isn't alone here anymore. But her anger and hurt freeze her smile halfway and it ends up being not quite real.
"Thank you, Martha," the Doctor says quietly and firmly with his eyes fixed on her face.
Martha doesn't say 'you're welcome' or 'it's fine, really' because it isn't. The Doctor would not have treated her the way that John Smith did, she had to keep reminding herself of that in a steady mantra when a human wearing her friend's face threw her out of his room. But that still doesn't staunch the pain of being dismissed so easily or treated as though she didn't matter. That will take longer to heal.
She trusted him and, even though she knew it wasn't really him, it felt like he'd betrayed her. From the look in the Doctor's eyes, he has read that much from her expression and Martha folds her arms defensively.
"We're gonna talk about this later," she tells him with a look that says he's not going to pretend that this can be glossed over and forgotten with witty words or sudden stony silences or any other number of things he does to hide from pain and problems. And she doesn't want to talk about this in front of Nurse Redfern, no way.
And the Doctor nods, like maybe he agrees or like he knows he can't get out of it. Good.
He's going to have to talk to the nurse before they leave too, because right now Martha can see that Joan is trying terribly carefully to hold everything together. Whatever resentment or anger or whatever Martha feels towards the nurse (in her own mind she knows that the word is competition, and even though she knows it's petty and ridiculous and like being in school again, it's still there), she knows how Joan feels and Joan deserves some closure of any kind.
Because God knows, she's not going to get any herself about Rose (she doesn't even know what she's living in the shadow of - a memory, a ghost, someone they'll run into on some distant planet light years away?) because the Doctor won't bloody talk about it. But Martha can make sure he talks to Joan, that he says something, because she can lock him out of the TARDIS until he does. He's not going to slip away and leave all this behind him, not if she can help it.
The thing is, this whole terrifying time has made Martha realise something. One day the Doctor won't be there. She doesn't know long she's got with him, but she's a realist and knows she can't have forever. One day, she won't be Martha Jones, time traveller. She'll be a doctor in her own right (with some amazing stories to maybe tell her kids one day). It doesn't scare her at all, because after all this she knows she can handle the pressure, and she really wants to.
Until then though, Martha isn't ready to stop running beside him, exploring new worlds and righting wrongs (though she could do without the amount of time she spends behind bars with him). And whilst she does that, she's going to teach him a few things about closure and rebounds and how to treat the women who fall in love with him (no matter how much it hurts, she knows she isn't the first or the last). Martha likes challenges. If she can deal with the train wreck that is her father and Annalise, then she deal with an oblivious 900 year old Timelord.
And as Doctor begins thinking plans out loud, and Joan studiously avoids looking at him the whole time, Martha keeps hold of Tim and interrupts the Doctor's ramblings when he loses sight of things she has spent months living with. Because if there's one thing that's been confirmed to her during the last few months, it's that more than ever, even though he'll never say it, the Doctor needs a doctor.
-end