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.
There's a sketch-y type scene in the middle that's unfinished.

Outside, Mr. Smith was giving orders. “Latimer, get back to the school; tell the Headmaster…”

“Don’t touch me!” Tim shouted. “You’re as bad as Them!” He knew that John had cared, just a bit, but he’d left his friend Dan inside, to die probably, had let the Family have what they want just ‘cause he was terrified and didn’t want to admit it. With his own stupidity, both Martha and his friend had been put in jeopardy. They should’ve listened, at the beginning. At least Dan and Martha had tried to do something. He would wait on his friend, because Winters needed the help.

“You okay?” Martha called out to her Doctor, not looking in case they decided to try something.

“Oh, yeah. Just hurts slightly. Nothing to worry about.” The pain in his voice was, for the most part, masked by the cheerfulness in the tone. She decided to enquire after her friend. Mother-of-Mine revealed that Jenny was dead. Suddenly, a scarecrow appeared behind her and grabbed the gun. She ran, not looking back, and suddenly Dan was at her side, holding her hand.

He was favoring his right side, but somehow through the pain he’d forced energy into his legs, enough to get him away from the Family.

They ran into Mr. Smith and Nurse Redfern, who seemed to be milling around in front of the gates, not sure what to do. “Don’t just stand there! You’re rubbish as a human, come on!” Martha shouted at the two of them, and together they all ran all the way to the school.

Tim ran out of the dark, taking Winters’ other arm, sharing a smile of gratitude with Miss Jones. “You need to keep yourself out of trouble. You’ve got a knack for it.”

Her Doctor laughed, a bit painfully. “No kidding. But I’m good at getting out of it as well.”

Latimer joined in the laughter. “Good thing you’ve got good friends to look out for you.”

Martha winked at the young boy. He reminded her of the Doctor, too, just a little bit. “And he knows it too.” She patted Winters, and he spared a smile for her.

A catch in Dan’s breath seemed to be developing on the way, and she desperately hoped that running wasn’t doing him any harm. Stopping certainly wasn’t an option-if the Family caught them, then his beautiful smile would stop-forever.

They got safely into the entryway, and Mr. Smith started ringing a bell, calling the boys to arms. Martha would have tried to stop him, if she wasn’t worrying about Dan instead, tending to his wound. Matron tried to stop him, but Doctor Jones yelled at her to get bandages and any other medical supplies she could think of, and, after a moment, the Nurse took off and did as she was told, even if a servant was getting uppity and shouting orders. “It’s been too dangerous here, in 1913. I don’t want to come here again, not if it means you getting hurt yet again.”

She ran her fingers through Dan’s hair, and he smiled tiredly. “I’m with you all the way.”

The Headmaster walked into the room, blazing with fury. “What in thunder’s name is this? Before I devise an excellent and endless series of punishments for each and every one of you, could someone explain, very simply and immediately, what exactly is going on?”

Gravely, Smith took up the duty, telling him about the school being under attack, the madmen murdering people in the village…all in his not very bright human way. Martha barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes-she would have, if the situation hadn’t been so serious and if she wasn’t tending to Daniel again. The Nurse arrived back with the medical supplies, and Doctor Jones gravely set to work, ignoring the incredulous looks from the boys, the Matron, and even the Headmaster.

“What is that boy doing here? I thought we sent him home in disgrace.”

He seemed ready to blame everything on Winters, but Martha spoke, shedding her disguise of servant and stepping into the role of Martha Jones, medical student and nearly doctor. Her real life. It’d been so long, and she’d missed it so. “Without Daniel Winters’ quick thinking and Latimer’s actions, we wouldn’t have made it out. The Family would’ve killed us all, just to get to Smith.”

Everyone looked at her, astounded at the audacity of someone of her skin colour. She didn’t give them the satisfaction of looking up, instead just lifting Dan’s shirt and setting it to the side.

Scandalized, Mr. Smith shouted, “Martha!”

This time, she actually did turn to look in her ‘master’s’ eyes for just one second, fixing them with a glance of steel. Her words, when at last she spoke, were businesslike, ignoring the emotions that were threatening to well up deep inside her. “He’s losing blood really quickly. To properly bandage it, I need to remove his shirt, which he probably needs to switch anyway due to the blood stains, to be able to access his wound. Do you have herbs or…anything, to help prevent infection?”

This last was directed to Matron Redfern, who, just a little embarrassed, hurried over. “Will this do?”

It took Martha a moment to recognize them, but after a moment she nodded. “Yes, these’ll do, thanks.” She applied them to her Doctor’s side, and he screamed, the sound bursting out of him before he registered it.

Feeling the eyes on him, Dan struggled to open his eyes and smiled weakly. “Sorry…didn’t know I was going to do that.”

Doctor Martha Jones tutted, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to break out, and told him to get his arms out of the way. She wasn’t that happy to note how hard a time he had holding his arms above his head, but moved as quickly as she could to get the bandages in place.

He didn’t even notice when she was done, and she pecked him on the cheek playfully, looking for a reaction. She got one. His eyes opened comically, as if he’d had an electric shock. He jumped to his feet while everyone was still gaping, stretching and yawning. “Oh, yes! That’s the way to start the…” he took in everyone’s expressions, and ended, a bit lamely, “…Um…the fight. Won’t do any good, by the way, but that’s all right. You lot would insist on trying anyway.”

“What are you talking about, Winters?” The Headmaster bellowed, but his anger didn’t have any effect on her Doctor.

“You lot saw the weapons they used.” He directed a gesture at Mr. Smith, the Matron, and Tim, all of whom nodded. “Scientific advancements. Baines helped develop them. I suspected something, but I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure. He’s got an army following him.”

The Headmaster decided to scoff. “Baines? His father wasn’t even any good in Africa.”

“Yes, well, they aren’t human. They’re…clockwork men. More science, put to evil use. And yes, they’re mad. They won’t stop killing until they get what they want, or we stop them.” The Doctor was doing his best to construct a story that they would both believe and get them to help-somehow. Personally, Martha thought they were a bit useless.

“What do they want?” The Headmaster didn’t seem to want to believe, but Dan wasn’t giving him much of a choice.

“Something that they believe Mr. Smith has.” As everyone turned to look, he added, “Which he hasn’t.”

“And how do you know all this, if you don’t mind me asking?” The Matron took that moment to join the crowd, asking questions, trying to get a better picture of what was going on out of the only Time Lord in the room, since he, like always, seemed to know what he was doing.

Dan started searching his pockets, and, guessing what he was looking for, Martha fished the psychic paper out of her jacket, handing it to him. He gave her a grateful smile, flipping it open. “I’m from Torchwood. New at this, you know. Martha, on the other hand, is…well, an old hand.” He flashed her a brief but brilliant smile.

Mr. Smith pointed out a hole in the story. “But she’s been with me her whole life!” He was wavering between belief, because it could make his world simplify again into the box and equation he’d been wanting, and incredulity, because some parts of the story definitely sounded mad. Then again, thought Martha, not half as mad as they’d have thought the truth.

“Well, obviously, she’s a regional specialist. Just little telegrams and stuff that you don’t notice. We need a good opinion from an authority now and then, especially with things like this. But don’t worry,” he fixed them all with an honest stare, the hint of a smile crossing his face, “…We’re experts in dealing with this sort of thing. The weird, the extraordinary…it’s all the same to us.”

As much as Martha could tell, the whole school bought it, however rubbish it sounded to her. The Headmaster cast her another skeptical look, but soon moved on to more important and useful things, such as shouting instructions. The Doctor started looking around, thinking like mad. The teachers took that moment to get the rest of the pupils working, getting ready for the siege. Winters rolled his eyes, pretty obviously, but the rest were rushing around like ants, racing back and forth. Suddenly, Dan’s eyes lit up, and he whispered, “Oh, yes!”

He ran out to the shooting range, narrowly dodging the scarecrows closing in. Since they weren’t trying to escape, though, the Family’s army didn’t react. They were waiting for orders, Martha realized, the wind whooshing in and out of her lungs. “What are we doing?” she shouted to the young Time Lord in front of her.

“The bags!” he yelled, picking up the rucksacks that made up the targets. In a second, he’d spun around, loads of bags in his arms. He barely missed her and barreled back into the school. Miss Jones sighed and made a U-turn as well, hot on his heels. She wouldn’t be left behind again.

He ran into the school science room and headed straight for the chemicals in the back. “I’m looking for something flammable,” he explained, dumping the bags and going through the chemicals in whirlwind speed.

“They don’t have anything modern. It won’t be as good,” she pointed out, not quite sure of what he was on about.

Dan looked up, an extremely blank look in his eyes as he looked at her quizzically. It was as if, by snapping her fingers, she’d stopped his train of thought completely. Momentarily, he grinned at her, mind back and in the moment. “Oh, no. We don’t need it to be extremely advanced or anything. All we need is something…like this! Ha!” He grabbed a jar of some yellowish liquid and poured it all over the rucksacks. “Now, Martha, I’ll probably need you on firefighting shift. I mean, I’m not sure it’ll stop the scarecrows, and if they get inside they could try to burn this whole place to the ground, but it’s the only advantage I can think of. They’re so oblivious to their weaknesses. I mean, me, I cover those, make sure that they can’t be used against me, not easily anyway, but this Family…not really impressed.”

“What?”…he’d said firefighting, which meant… “You’re going to throw firebombs at them?”

“Oh, yes! They’re scarecrows. You can’t shoot them, stab them, and most of the rest of the other weapons we’ve got access to are pretty useless as well. They’re stronger than us, and they’ve got the advantage of numbers. But we’ve got the brains.” He tapped the top of his head, and Martha burst out laughing. “You’re vain, you know.”

“Not at all,” he protested, then noticed the mirror in the corner of the classroom and stopped to admire himself in it, running his fingers through his hair.

When her laughter grew louder, he glanced up and winked. “Now all I need is the sonic, and we’re cracking. It’ll take just a bit to fix these, so they’re aerodynamic, so maybe I can aim them, but other than that…this reminds me of the time I was putting together stink bombs in the Middle Ages to stop a bloodthirsty tyrant named Irongron…”

Noticing her bemused look, he added, somewhat half-heartedly, “Ha. Anyway…I’m sure you’ll be ready, and okay. Just, be careful. With these, I can probably cut a swath through the army, just maybe-fingers crossed-enough to let these barmy humans have a chance.”

Martha grinned. “No way I’m letting you get anywhere on your own. You need me.”

His smile slipped into that intense, lonely look that the Doctor got sometimes. She could barely meet his eyes. “You don’t know how right you are,” he whispered. He looked down, studying his makeshift weapons, and she caught just the hint of tears on his face out of the corner of her eye, but when he looked back up, they were gone, a reckless smile on his face instead. “The Family underestimated me. Again. I don’t think they’re gonna be very happy about it, either.”

He began to gather all his homemade firebombs, but Martha started gathering some, too. “I’ll help you carry, at least,” she remarked, determined to be actually useful. After months of maintenance and cleaning duties, she must be desperate to do something real, he thought guiltily. ‘Stop it,” he told himself, ‘…you can’t be blamed for that, at least. And you’ve given her what she’s always wanted. That’s gotta count for something.’

They walked together in a silence made tense by the impending battle outside. The love between them was almost palpable, a lifeline that they were both hanging onto for dear life and for sanity’s sake. They were upstairs, in the perfect vantage point, and Dan set up his workshop of fiery death. “They’re just constructs,” he began to explain as he opened both windows, though he didn’t know exactly why. “Like homunculi-the plural of homunculus. They’re not alive, with only one thought in the parts of them that pass for minds-to obey the Family of Blood.”

He felt the tingling of Martha’s light touch on his arm. “It’s not murder. I get it. It’s like…they’re not properly alive. It’s as if they’re just…well, constructs is just about the only word to describe it, isn’t it?”

The Doctor nodded, about to cry again, though he didn’t know why, and wasn’t about to do so in front of his Martha Jones.

“You’re my champion, Daniel Winters,” she stated, a light, jaunty tone in her voice, though the undercurrent was far more serious. Before the battle, they did what many sweethearts used, for a proper goodbye. Martha leaned forward and kissed him, hand still settled on his arm. He winced slightly at the pain in his side, but returned it fervently.

“I’ll see you after this.”

“When it comes time to evacuate, I’ll use the rest, just to buy time, and then I’ll be with you,” he promised, again pained at the knowledge of a Time Lord.

It was her turn to smile brilliantly. “You do that.”