"Vital Lightning" by ellijay

Summary: After "Journey's End" the Doctor goes to Cardiff for a simple refueling stop, but an unexpected collision forces him to track down a potentially harmful alien. Jack and Martha join him in what should be an easy retrieval, but the harm turns out to be more than potential.

Author's Notes: A huge thank-you to readerjane for a wonderful job of beta-reading, and additional thanks to aranhe and alipeeps for helping to put the finishing touches on the story.

Chapter 1 – "Holding on…"

It had been a long time since the Doctor had experienced something that felt so much like the passing of an era, only this time it had ended before it had even truly begun. Only a short while ago, the TARDIS had been full of light and laughter, a full crew piloting her as she was meant to be flown, all of them full of elation, the joy of being alive, of having survived, of having saved so very many other lives.

Now he stood alone, motionless at the control console of the TARDIS, cold and dripping wet in the silence. The loss was profound, the emptiness overwhelming. He was numb, head to foot, heart to mind to soul. He didn't move, tried not to think, until his shirt and hair were long since dried.

The Doctor's soul is revealed. See him! See the heart of him!

The sudden memory made him jerk upright and push away from the control console. He could recall perfectly the exact tone of Dalek Caan's voice and felt once again the horrid chill the words had sent through him.

The man who keeps running, never looking back, because he dare not, out of shame.

He started to pace rapidly back and forth, his hands shoved into his hair and clenching into fists. It was in his nature to move, restless, never stopping. Shame had nothing to do with it. Pain, perhaps, and regret. Not the same at all. He'd never done anything but what needed doing. He had to believe that.

He forced himself to stand still, sucked in a deep breath, pushed stiffly dried hair back over his head. Then he scrubbed his hands over his face and angrily flipped a few switches on the control console. He wanted to run now, needed so badly to run, from what had happened on the Crucible and even more so from what he'd had to do since.

But he couldn't allow himself that release just yet. He still had to finish what he'd started. He had to tell Sarah Jane, Martha and Jack what had happened to – been done to – Donna. They were part of the equation of keeping her alive, and if they weren't warned, they might find out she was back on Earth and apparently suffering from some kind of partial amnesia. They might go digging for answers as to what had happened to her and unknowingly trigger a fatal reaction.

No use waiting, even though he could send the message to the right time from anywhere along his future personal timeline. He needed to get it over and done with now. His stomach turned at the thought of delivering the message to anyone in person, the recrimination he would inevitably face. So he'd be a coward and opt for the twenty-first century's best option for communicating without having to look someone in the eyes or even speak to them with a voice that couldn't be trusted to hold steady: he'd send an e-mail. Yes, it was a cold and impersonal way to do it, but it was the only way he thought he could manage it.

He walked around to the monitor but wasn't quite sure how to begin. The more he thought about it, though, the more his composure began to crumble, so he settled on brief and to the point, the bare facts of what had happened and a warning not to contact her in any way. He added a request to pass his message on to anyone else who might need to know. He was too mentally exhausted at the moment to think of others Donna might know with a strong enough connection to him to unlock any traces of memory. He knew he could trust his friends to take care of that for him.

Mind cleared of that urgent task, a sense of the TARDIS' condition finally made it to the front of his awareness. Depleted from the experience of nearly being destroyed on the Crucible and having traveled to and from an alternate universe, she was in desperate need of fuel. The Rift in Cardiff was the quickest and simplest alternative for that, so he set the coordinates, despite the fact that it meant risking a run-in with Jack.

If he at least jumped a little bit into the future, though, any encounter of that sort might be a bit easier on Jack, and by extension on himself. He wished he could jump ahead on his own personal timeline or hide himself for a very, very long time in the deepest, darkest part of the TARDIS he could find, but one was impossible and the other was utterly selfish. So he set the time vector for a month into the future. He couldn't quite bring himself to run too far just yet. He felt that would somehow be disrespectful to Donna.

The ride was brief and should've been relatively smooth, but just as the TARDIS began to rematerialize, an alarm went off. Instruments showed a spike in Rift activity, but it was too late to pull back. Something impacted the TARDIS with a massive jolt. He was thrown to the grating hard enough to knock the wind out of him and lay there stunned as the TARDIS was roughly pulled to the side. There was a shriek outside but it sounded more like anger and frustration than pain, so he likely hadn't injured whatever it was, just made it very unhappy. He'd probably be a bit put out too if someone hit him with a police box.

The TARDIS quickly settled into a more stable landing and began to suck in the energy she so desperately needed. The ache in his chest subsided, the physical pain of the impact at any rate, and he pulled himself to his feet with the assistance of the console. He leaned over to gently pat the time rotor. "There now, old girl. Have as much as you want. I'll go take a look and make sure you're not bruised."

He shrugged into his now dry suit jacket, not bothering with the buttons or with his coat. In a twisted sort of way, they both represented comfort and protection he couldn't allow himself right now. He only took the jacket because it had the sonic and his glasses in it.

He cautiously opened the door in case the creature was waiting to take its anger out on him. Then again, maybe this was some kind of karmic retribution and he should let it happen. All he saw, though, was a flash of light in the darkness on the far side of the Plass.

Nevertheless, he'd better track it down in case it decided to take its frustration out on someone else. That he couldn't allow. Enough people had died and suffered because of him. He couldn't bear one more at the moment, even if it was a complete stranger. Especially if it was a complete stranger.

It was the middle of the night, so hopefully the creature wouldn't encounter any potential targets. He took out his sonic and made a quick scan, but nothing out of the ordinary was registering. He sensed something disturbing, though, and turned to see Jack and Martha sprinting across the Plass. They both slowed when they saw him, but Martha lagged behind as Jack walked steadily towards him with a sad and sympathetic expression on his face.

The Doctor winced. He wasn't sure if Jack's pity or his Wrongness pained him more. He somehow managed to keep himself from cringing when Jack gently took hold of his arm and barely managed to keep his emotions in check when Jack said softly, "It's good to see you again. I'm so sorry about Donna."

The sound of her name being spoken aloud brought back the disgust he felt with himself for how he'd violated her mind despite her desperate pleas. The memory made his stomach roil. He gave Jack a sharp nod but didn't meet his eyes. Fortunately, Jack let go of his arm, forestalling any further reaction he might have. In his emotionally turbulent state, it was all he could do to keep from violently shaking his arm to pull himself from Jack's grasp, and Jack truly didn't deserve to be treated like that.

"I know it's only been a month," Jack went on, "but she's fine so far. I've been having someone check in on her every now and then, someone she didn't know before she met you, so no chance of anything happening." His words slowed as he went, then he fell silent. The Doctor hazarded a glance and found himself under careful scrutiny from head to toe. Jack's eyes went wide in realization. "You're wearing the same clothes. It's only just happened for you, hasn't it?"

He briefly thought about denying it, forcing himself to fake cheerfulness, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd probably end up laughing like a lunatic if he tried. He settled for another nod, then turned his head away.

"Doctor, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to–"

He could sense Jack reaching for him again, so he took a quick step away. "No, don't worry, it's fine," he said, and he thought he sounded somewhat convincing. Didn't matter. He just needed to find out if there was any damage to the TARDIS, let her finish refueling, track down and capture the creature, and get out of here.

Jack didn't seem to be willing to let him be, though. "But where's everyone else? Rose and Jackie and your doppelganger?"

He thought about telling Jack it was none of his business, but he knew Jack wouldn't let it go so easily. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes in exhaustion. He hadn't given Rose a choice any more than he had Donna. So many decisions he'd taken away from others. He said curtly, "Where they should be, which is to say not with me."

He had a wild hope that would be enough for Jack, but he knew it wouldn't. Jack didn't say anything right away, so the Doctor looked at him, wondering if a miracle had occurred and Jack Harkness was satisfied with a vague answer. No such luck. It looked like Jack was simply trying to figure some way of wording his question carefully so as not to upset him. The concern had the exact opposite effect, though – it irritated him immensely. He didn't need – or deserve – to be handled with that kind of care.

Finally, Jack said, "Look, I know you don't like talking about what's over and done…" The Doctor snorted, but it apparently didn't matter what he did or didn't like talking about. "But I know Rose too and I care about her and what happens to her. Where is she? I mean, I assume you took her mother back to the alternate universe, but I thought Rose would stay with you. Is she…?" Jack swallowed, apparently unwilling to say the word, which the Doctor thought was ridiculous considering Jack bounced in and out of death on a regular basis.

"No, she's not dead. She's fine." The utter relief on Jack's face made him see that maybe he was being a bit of a bastard. It hadn't really occurred to him that Jack might think Rose was dead, and it was unkind to believe that because Jack himself was so well-acquainted with death, he would be cavalier about it when it came to others. "As I said – she's where she should be." She was. Truly. The way she'd so ardently kissed his double on that beach was the proof. He couldn't question it, couldn't allow himself to doubt.

Of course, Jack wouldn't be put off by being given the same answer twice. "What, did she run off with your better half?" He knew Jack was trying for a bit of humor, hoping to take the edges off the rawness of the topic, but it absolutely wrenched his guts to hear it stated that way.

"Something like that," he said roughly. "I left them back in the alternate universe. Rose's family is there, and he can give her everything I never could, everything she wants. Now if you're done asking questions I really don't want to answer..."

That had better satisfy Jack. It was more than enough. Any more would just be idle curiosity, and he wasn't about to indulge that. He turned his attention to inspecting the TARDIS for damage from the collision, starting with the doors and doorframe.

"Looking for your spare key?" he heard Martha ask. He'd noticed her standing back warily up to this point and realized he hadn't even given her a proper greeting. He really was being a bastard.

He gave her a grin, only a little bit forced, then folded her up in a warm hug. "Martha. It's always good to see you. But what are you doing here? Did Jack finally poach you from UNIT?"

"No." She shook her head and laughed a little. "But not for lack of trying. I'm just visiting."

"In the middle of the night?" He winced as soon as he said it. With Jack in the equation, there was surely an unintended implication there.

She didn't seem to notice, though. "We both tend to keep odd hours. Aliens aren't always courteous of human sleep patterns when they decide to cause mischief."

"True enough," he replied, then turned back to the TARDIS. He took another look at her front side but didn't see anything that hadn't been there before. "I hit something when I dematerialized. I think it came through the Rift at the same time."

"You ran into something?" Jack asked as he joined the Doctor in his inspection, going around to the left while the Doctor went right.

"Yes, or it ran into me. Doesn't much matter. There was a collision, and the sound the thing made indicated it was just a bit angry about it."

"Oh, so that's what that noise was," Martha said. "Jack and I were out getting some fresh air, and that's what brought us running."

"I don't think it was injured…" The Doctor trailed off as he reached the rear corner of the TARDIS and found blackened and still smoking claw marks gouging deep furrows right through the edge. "But it looks like it tore into the TARDIS. Apparently it had claws."

Jack and Martha both came around to have a look at what he'd found. Jack gave a quick whistle. "Wow, that's impressive," he said, reaching out tentatively to touch the gouges.

The Doctor slapped his hand away and said impatiently, "Must you touch everything, Jack?" He took out his glasses and put them on to get a better look but didn't see any detail that gave him any further hint as to what the creature was. He wanted to know what he was dealing with before he tried to hunt it down, and not just for his own safety. He knew Jack and Martha would insist on coming along.

He took his glasses off again and slid them back into his pocket as he looked up and around the Plass. "I don't suppose you've got access to those cameras?"

"Of course I do," Jack said as if it were a daft question, and it probably was. Then he added, "I like to watch everything too."

The Doctor ignored the obvious double entendre. He had no interest in bantering with anyone at the moment. "Then let's go have a look and see what did this."

Jack led them across the Plass, presumably to the entrance of Torchwood, but he stopped short of the building they'd been headed towards and instead stepped onto a large square of pavement. Martha joined him, and they both looked at the Doctor expectantly. He stopped for a moment. There was something familiar about that spot, and he was getting odd tingles down his spine. Then he remembered he'd landed the TARDIS there once.

Still a bit confused, he joined Martha and Jack, then jumped a bit as the square began to slowly move downwards. "Ah!" he said, finally understanding. "Secret entrance. I see you made use of the perception filtering effect the TARDIS left."

"Yup," was all Jack said, but the Doctor could tell he was pleased with his own cleverness.

As the lift lowered, his gaze ranged around the various levels of the cavernous room they were entering. "Interesting place you've got here," he commented. But something smelled strange. He sniffed at the air and identified the odd odor. It was one he hadn't encountered since…well, since Rose, when she'd told him she planned on staying with him forever. Nothing but impossible promises. "Pterodactyl? That's a bit risky, isn't it?"

"Nah," Jack answered and smiled. "He's friendly enough as long as you don't make the mistake of eating a steak dinner in front of him. He's got terrible table manners."

The Doctor didn't respond to that. He really wished Jack would quit trying to be humorous. He wasn't finding anything even vaguely amusing at the moment. He just wanted to take care of the creature he'd collided with and get out of here as quickly as possible. He was beginning to realize he hadn't run far enough.

They reached the bottom and stepped off the platform without any further comment from anyone. The Doctor walked forward into the main part of the room, his eyes ranging over the expected collection of work stations and computer monitors. There were a few other objects mixed in that might've interested him at another time, but no other people.

"Where are Gwen and Ianto?" he asked. "I was hoping to meet them in person." He found that he actually was, which surprised him a bit. At least he hadn't ruined their lives yet.

Jack took a seat at one of the work stations and began tapping at the keyboard. "I try to let them keep regular hours as much as possible, Gwen especially since she's got Rhys to go home to. And the aliens were being quiet tonight until you showed up." He stared intently at one of the screens. "This might take a few minutes. The servers crashed yesterday, and they're still being a bit touchy. Feel free to talk among yourselves." He waved a hand at them.

The Doctor snorted. Probably Jack didn't want them to watch him fumble with the system. Despite his facility with mechanics, he didn't think Jack was much of a computer expert.

He looked over at Martha; she looked back at him expectantly. He guessed small talk was what was supposed to happen. He hated small talk. "So, how's Tom?" he asked. "I've been expecting a wedding invitation."

The look on Martha's face told him he'd stumbled into something that decidedly wasn't small talk. The smile disappeared from her face, and she looked down at the floor. "Tom and I broke it off," she said quietly, then she looked back up at him with a fierceness in her eyes. He could tell he'd inadvertently broken open a storehouse of pain and thought about telling her she didn't have to say anything more, but that was his way of dealing with painful subjects, not hers. He stood still and waited.

"No, I broke it off," she said with bitterness in her voice. "He never would've left me. He's faithful to a fault, never thinks of himself, but it was too much for him, my life, my work. I didn't realize exactly how much it was affecting him until last month, after the Daleks and the Earth being stolen." She took a deep breath, shook her head. "He's not the same Tom I first met. I should've realized that. This Tom doesn't remember the Year. He has a whole different outlook, different priorities. Normal priorities. Helping people keep their children well, relaxing when he's not working, enjoying a good meal and a bit of wine every now and then. Not chasing aliens, trying to save the whole damn world and everyone in it, certainly not threatening to blow the entire planet to bits. He can still have a normal life." She paused to catch her breath, then tears sprang to her eyes and her tone softened. "He deserves to have a normal life."

Her anger struck him hard. He wasn't quite sure if it was meant to be directed at Tom or at herself. Probably both, along with the Toclafane, the Master, Davros, the Daleks, the Family – a whole host of creatures that had left their bloody fingerprints on her. Himself included. Her sorrow pained him even more. "You deserve to have a normal life too, Martha," he said quietly. If she'd never met him, she'd be living that normal life. Davros' words echoed through his mind. She was one of his Children of Time now, remade as a soldier, a weapon.

"Like John Smith and Joan Redfern?" she asked, irony tingeing her voice.

He flinched. That was the last thing he was expecting her to bring up now. He didn't think she was being malicious, though. Her eyes were soft and sad, regretful, as if she felt a bit sorry for him. "That's not the same thing," he said tersely.

"Isn't it?" she asked, tilting her head to the side and looking at him intently. "Some things just aren't meant to be. They aren't what you thought they were or what they might've been."

Guilt stabbed at him, mixed with remorse. "Oh, Martha. I'm so sorry." It was all he could think to say.

He expected her to wave him off and say it was fine, or perhaps even vent some justified anger at him, but instead she looked at him curiously. "You always say that."

He blinked. He hadn't really thought about it before. He didn't exactly toss those words around carelessly. "But I mean it every time I say it." And he did. He really and truly did. He meant it now. He very much meant it now.

"I know," she replied quietly and looked down at the floor again, just for a moment, before she turned to Jack with a forced smile on her face. Jack was no longer typing, his chair still facing the computer but his head turned slightly to the side. He was apparently waiting on them and trying not to intrude on the conversation. Martha said tightly, "All right, we're done blogging now, Jack. What have you found?"

Jack tapped a few keys, and the footage he'd pulled up on the screen started to play. The Doctor stood a couple of paces back with his arms across his chest. He could see well enough from there, and he didn't want to get that close to Jack. Stinging as he was from the rebukes he'd felt swarming through Martha's tirade, whether she intended them or not, he didn't need anything else to set him on edge.

The clip started with a shot of the empty Plass, then the TARDIS began to materialize. She hadn't quite fully solidified when there was a flash of bright, white light that slammed into the TARDIS, knocking it to the side. The light flared brighter, then appendages ending in long claws coalesced out of the main body and raked across the corner of the TARDIS. The claws melted back into the glob of light, then it contracted into a ball and shot off across the Plass.

"Ah!" the Doctor said, relieved it wasn't something worse. "I haven't seen one of those in a long time, since I was visiting the tsar of Russia." He let his mind wander through the memory for a moment. It had been a time when everything was so much simpler, before the Time War. "There was an incredible storm, and a ball of light burst in through the window of the church we were in. It spun around inside, then went out through the door. They called it ball lightning but it was definitely alive. Galvanoids, they're called. They feed on electrical sources. The one in Russia probably got overloaded from all the lightning outside and was looking for shelter from the storm, poor thing."

"Poor thing?" Jack asked incredulously. "Are we talking about the same kind of creature here – you know, the alien with claws that gouged your TARDIS?"

"Under normal circumstances, they're mostly harmless," he said evenly, still adrift in the memory. "The claws are only a defense mechanism." He took a deep breath and brought himself back to the present. "But we should still track it down. It's frightened and might hurt someone if it feels cornered. At the very least, it'll play havoc with any large sources of electricity it comes into…" He trailed off as the lights and computer monitors began to flicker, then went out entirely. "… contact with," he finished, his eyes adjusting instantly to the darkness, but then emergency generators kicked in, providing a low level of lighting.

He looked quickly around at the bits and pieces of technology scattered on desks and tables, then started to rummage about without bothering to ask permission. He didn't think Jack would mind. He didn't care if Jack did. Now that they knew what they were dealing with, he was even more determined to capture it and leave as quickly as possible. Rose, Donna, now Martha, their lives upended and scattered and broken, all because of him. He should've gone somewhere else for the TARDIS to refuel. Somewhere far, far away.

"There we go!" he said as he picked up a metallic cube. "This should do."

Jack looked at the object and frowned. "Do for what? We don't know what that thing is other than a metal cube."

"And you've just left it lying about on a desk?" the Doctor snapped. Stupid, careless, reckless… He wanted to grab Jack and shake him until his teeth rattled. "It could be a bomb for all you know."

Jack looked like he was about to make an angry retort, but Martha cut in. "Is it a bomb?" she asked in a neutral tone of voice.

"Well… No, it's not," the Doctor answered, a bit deflated. He'd been gearing up to have an argument with Jack, but now he realized he was just looking for a target to tear into with his more turbulent emotions, which were many and varied and running hot and cold. He forced his breathing to slow, tossed the cube gently from hand to hand, calming himself with the repetitive motion. If he let himself go on like this, he was going to do something stupid and someone was going to get hurt. "But it easily could've been."

"So what is it then?" Martha asked, still being the calm and sensible one.

He sighed, started to explain, then stopped. "I'll show you. Much better to show than tell." Truthfully, he didn't feel much like explaining anything at the moment. "Where's the nearest power station? That's its mostly likely next target. Flies to honey, that's what that'll be."