nevermoreraven

Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: Teen
DISCLAIMER: Other people have actually read this one before the internet. Yes, I know. It's weird.
Summary: This is a rewrite of the Human Nature/Family of Blood two-parter, because I really liked Latimer. It's long. I liked it pretty well at the time, as did the other readers, so let's see how well it held up. ...so far, so good. also I actually bothered to tab for once on this one.
It's not finished, but it's fairly close.

Winters had noticed the two swords crossed in the commons. They had been placed for show, but his appreciative eye had noted that they were functional.

He could never have explained his like for swords. He'd tried, over and over again, like he had to Hutchinson, but the real answer was that he didn't know. His normal distaste for violence of any sort didn't transfer to a blade. Oh, he wouldn't carry one around with him, even then, preferring the sonic, but he didn't mind when called upon to get into a swordfight. He liked martial arts, too, for the same enigmatic reason.

He'd found words that worked, words that explained, but even then they were totally inadequate. It was about the dance, the interplay between the two combatants on the field. Finesse was involved-it was beautiful, if deadly-a dance to the death.

And maybe a small part of his mind liked showing off his skill, taking pride in how good he'd gotten over the last thousand or so years. Still, it wasn't half the reason, and he still wasn't able to verbally explain it.

He knew, intellectually, that he had hidden motives behind this challenge. True, these were bullies, and force was the only thing they'd understand, but the Doctor was all about other ways about going about this. Time was running out, he told himself, time that needed to be spent preparing for the true battle ahead. They'd never listen to talk, he told himself, no matter how much he babbled. And these weren't aliens threatening to invade Earth-he couldn't use the same tactics on them as he did on the countless number of foes he'd encountered during his travels.

He couldn't argue that he wasn't showing off, although he'd try if any companion was present and made such a remark. But more than that, he needed to show Baines that he was a force to be reckoned with, even if he only appeared a silly, meddling outsider. Glances weren't enough.

This was a ploy to gain a respite. He needed some breathing room to come up with a plan. And he wanted to make sure he wasn't getting rusty.

But the biggest motive was probably the need to show off. He'd have some stern words for himself later. Right now, he had a job to do.

He was glad that Baines wasn’t the one he had to challenge, though. The alien wouldn’t take losing gladly and might even kill him, just out of spite.

They arrived in the room, and with ease the Doctor retrieved his own sword, trainers landing lightly on the couch and back off again as he backflipped off. Hutchinson looked scared. Daniel smiled at him encouragingly. “I’ll go easy on you,” he promised.

His opponent more clumsily retrieved his own blade and made a half-hearted attempt to stab at him. Winters blocked it without effort. “Come on,” he told him gently, “You can do better than that…”

The very loud thump was the only real clue that a battle was taking place downstairs, alerting, among others, Mr. Smith and the Headmaster.

Martha was the first to hear and was off in a shot. She’d practiced running with the Doctor, and she was on high alert, trying to make sure nothing happened to spoil the Time Lord’s plans. So it wasn’t all that surprising that she was the first to arrive at the scene.

She gaped at what she saw before her. The boy who resembled the Doctor was swordfighting with another boy-Hutchinson, she thought his name was. She had absolutely no idea of what was going on, but considering the Doctor’s eccentric behavior things like this were bound to happen sooner or later.

“What is going on? You will stop this at once!” Headmaster roared at the two from behind her, causing even Martha to jump.

Hutchinson lost concentration. The sweat on his forehead was a telltale sign that he was scared. And at the Headmaster’s voice, he completely lost control.

His sword accidentally flashed out and nicked ‘Daniel’s’ shoulder. The cry of pain that followed wasn’t that of a boy, nor that of a man-it was the roar of a centuries-old Time Lord. Everyone flinched when they heard it, even the Headmaster. Martha saw the flash of eyes and felt something within her lose hope. The wrath of a Time Lord, she thought sadly. This boy doesn’t deserve it. It was a mistake, not done on purpose. Surely he had to see that, she thought with despair.

Winters’ sword flickered out, almost faster than the eye could follow, and knocked the blade out of Hutchinson’s hands before he even knew what was happening. Mr. Smith grabbed at Daniel’s shirt, but he avoided it with a roll and kicked out lightly at his opponent’s chest-not hard enough to hurt, just enough to knock him down. He ended the movement on his feet, holding the sword to the other boy’s throat.

It seemed the whole school was holding its breath. Martha was interested to see that neither Mr. Smith nor the Headmaster wanted to step in again and get in range of the blade. Hutchinson looked extremely scared, as if his life would be lost any second now. He would have probably have closed his eyes if he could, but Daniel’s stern eyes and the sword were hypnotizing, and he couldn’t look away.

After what seemed like forever Winters’ face broke out in a brilliant smile, lighting up the room with his energy and joy. “Good match. But I won. Remember that, Hutchinson.” He switched the sword to his other hand and held out the hand that had been holding Hutchinson’s life at the point of a deadly tip to help his opponent up.

The boy looked like he hardly believed it, but he took the peace offering. He nodded, not knowing how else to react, and left the room as quickly as his dignity would allow.

Mr. Smith was going to give Daniel a piece of his mind. “Now, Winters, what was this about?”

His ‘cousin’ leaned on the sword and gave a tired smile. “One boy standing up for what he believes in, being a champion of the weak and defender of the downtrodden. All that good stuff. I thought you, at least, would appreciate that.”

He swayed, turning paler by the second.

Nurse Redfern ran in to support him. “I’ll have a look at that, Daniel.”

Weakly, he shook his head, denying the pain. “No, I…I’m fine. Really.”

The Headmaster contradicted him. After all, he knew what was best for the boys at his school. “Don’t argue, Winters, that’s a good boy. You will go with your Nurse, and that is that.”

They hauled Daniel away, though it took awhile for the feeble protestations to die down. Martha didn’t know what to do. If this boy was like the Doctor, and Matron Redfern had a look at him, it would only take a moment to reveal his secret. After all, she’d read the Journal of Impossible Things, and Mr. Smith had mentioned two hearts. It wouldn’t take a genius to fit that information together coupled with the results of a well-meaning pulse check.

She settled for acting completely normally. If this odd kid was related to the Doctor, and he got in trouble…she’d be in a better spot to help him out if she didn’t get chucked in the loony bin for believing in aliens and things that went ‘bump’ in the night first. She’d be handy, that was all. If things went wrong, if they got in a tight spot-she’d be there for him. Otherwise, she’d keep a low profile.

Martha wondered where she’d gotten all this spy-type lingo from.

The Headmaster growled, “I’ll have to have a talk with those boys.”

The only thing Mr. Smith could think of in reply was, “Mmm.”

His boss took that rather badly. He probably was going for the only target his anger could find in sight. “What did you say, Smith?” he asked in a quite loud and dangerous tone.

“Well…that boy is rubbish with guns. But he’d make a decent cavalry, with his skill with the sword.”

The Headmaster’s anger died away almost immediately, and he agreed thoughtfully, “You may have something there. Wrestle up a horse or two from somewhere, Smith, so we can teach this cousin of yours a thing or two.”

“Yes, sir.” John had to hide a triumphant grin. He really was proud of that boy, strange as his relation seemed.