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.

Martha watched as the schoolteacher opened the door and blinked upon seeing the scarecrows. “I think…retreat!” Then they were running again, Dan’s smooth hand in her own. He was having a bit of trouble keeping up, but considering that she and Tim practically had to carry him to the school, he was doing well, she supposed. They were running down the road to the village again, pursued by the Family and the scarecrows.

“So, these…madmen. Why do they want us, and, specifically, John?” The Matron spoke up, slight curiosity in her tone. She was asking more because she wanted to protect her lover, and could have gone happily without knowing otherwise.

Martha felt a stab of anger pierce her, as Winters was having trouble breathing without trying to talk. Dan’s condition had worsened enough earlier because of her-the nurse didn’t really need to add to his problems. However, he’d gotten a bit of oxygen from somewhere, and seemed ready to start spewing boatloads of information at them. He decided to give them the short version instead. “They come from a place called…well, actually, it doesn’t translate. I’ve tried a lot of times, but it never works. Laylock is probably the closest you can come, and that’s just gibberish.” Miss Jones knew that when the word ‘place’ was used, you could freely insert ‘planet’ instead. “They’re called the Family of Blood. Where they come from, they’re marvelous scientists. And their research indicated that someone in this village knew the secret of immortality.”

“That’s impossible!” Nurse Redfern seemed to feel compelled to interrupt with that comment, but Dan didn’t take umbrage at it.

“Oh, I like impossible,” he remarked quietly, smiling just slightly. “Anyway, that’s what they want from Mr. Smith. Only…they’ve got the wrong one.”

“Are they looking for you, then?” The tone and thought behind the query was almost exactly the same as if the Doctor had asked it, and Smith made his hair slightly spiky, running his fingers through. It was somewhat casual, but then, with the Doctor, practically nothing was careless.

“No. Well…they’re not, no. But yes, I might have an idea of what they’re looking for-and no, we can’t let them have it. That’s like letting the Rani escape from Shada. It’s just not done.” Dan took a deeper breath than normal and fell silent.

It was possible, Martha decided later, that Joan had noticed her Doctor’s distress and began looking for a way to ease the strain on his wound. All she knew was that the school nurse started and told them, “This way.”

“We’ve got to keep going!” That was definitely John, trying to protect the woman he loved. Redfern made a face and told him, for once, to listen to her. Martha wondered who lived in the house before them, and the nurse enigmatically stated, “If I’m right…no one.”

Doctor Jones didn’t want to stop, but a look at her Doctor told her that they needed to rest for a while, however she felt. He was starting to sweat again, and it wasn’t entirely impossible that he was having a reoccurrence of the condition that had him pretty out of it in the woods. They were almost to the front door when Dan almost collapsed, and she had to rush to support him. “What is it?” she gasped, feeling his weakness as something living, breathing, in the air.

He waved a hand at her limply. “I’m fine,” he insisted, even though she knew better, as if that would make everything all right.

“You’ve tried too much too soon. Just to check-because I don’t know Gallifreyan anatomy-that blast didn’t hit anything important? No vitals or anything?” She struggled to keep the fear out of her voice-the fear that Dan would be taken away from her…

His face had turned a ghostly pale, and she set him down carefully near the wall, crouching in front of him to study him closely. “Nope,” he answered, laying his head back for support. “Just…blood loss. Lots of it. I’ll be fine.”

Martha barely managed to pay attention as Matron answered the question of why the house was empty-the little girl, who was now Daughter-of-Mine, had been part of the household. She’d probably killed her parents.

She heard, as if in the background, Redfern and Smith discussing battle plans, but they weren’t very good, because they weren’t the Doctor’s. Admittedly, by this point she was probably a little biased, but still…they were talking about going to the Family, giving up, and she was sure that the Doctor would never do that. He’d find a way to prevent any more deaths without surrender. Martha forced herself to pay attention, as the nurse asked her if there was anything she could do.

“Not without the watch,” she stated painfully, feeling as if, somehow, she’d let the Doctor down.

Mr. Smith didn’t take that very well, starting to yell at her, tears streaming down his face. “You’re this Doctor’s companion, don’t you help? What exactly do you do for him? Why does he need you?”

Until that moment, she didn’t know what she would have answered that question with, but in that moment it seemed so very obvious. She stared longingly at Dan, slumped on the ground in a corner. “Because he’s lonely.”

John was really weeping now, not wanting that side of this fairy tale life, the romantic lost prince. He really didn’t want to die, and Martha could understand that, but right now they all needed him. Everyone needed him, and he couldn’t just walk away. Not from that.

At that moment, Daniel groaned, trying feebly to sit up. She ran over to him, trying to convince him to stay put. At last, he listened to her, settling back against the wall. “It’s not very comfortable,” he muttered tiredly.

Miss Jones stroked the freckled face, feeling the slight whisper of his breath against her skin. “Don’t you worry, Dan. We’ll get it all sorted, the Family and everything, and then we’ll be back to a normal life.”

The ghost of a smile flitted across the young Time Lord’s face. “Three points. One, not without my help. Two, you’re not normal, you’re brilliant. And, c…” his voice trailed off, and he frowned. “I don’t remember c….” The tone was only irritated, but Martha knew that memory loss wasn’t the greatest of signs…

At that point, a few thumps came at the door-not very loud, just enough that they could hear it. She wasn’t sure, but she imagined they were shy.

She got up to get the door, and someone, she wasn’t sure who, muttered, “Don’t!”

She shook her head, ignoring whoever-it-was. “I’m not an expert, but I don’t think scarecrows knock.”

Doctor Jones didn’t expect Tim at the door, but he acted as if this was always meant to happen, stepping in without another thought. He motioned for her to close the door, since she hadn’t, too surprised to act. He cast an alarmed look at Dan, who raised a hand in greeting, grinning slightly. Without further preamble, he held out the watch. “I brought you this.”

Her eyes grew as wide as the Doctor’s sometimes did, and she glanced at Dan and Mr. Smith in astonishment. It had been safe in the hands of a schoolboy all along.

“You should see your face,” Latimer remarked, amused, for a second reminding her of the Doctor. He went to go prop up his friend, looking him over. “You don’t look so good, you know.”

Dan laughed painfully, waving at his friend to come closer. “You’re not kidding, you know.” He lowered his voice, so Martha couldn’t hear their conversation. He didn’t want her hurt, not like this, not now. Of course, the longer he put it off, the more sudden and agonizing the parting would be, but still he wanted to postpone it as long as possible. “Tim…I’m dying,” he whispered, hugging him gently. Latimer felt the tears begin to collect, but his task was not to let it show. Instantly, he knew that Daniel wasn’t too afraid of dying, but he wanted to live so much-for Martha.

Somewhere, he knew what he’d been told all his life, that servants shouldn’t intermingle with their betters, that those with darker skin were inferior, that thus the love between Winters and Jones was never meant to be. But he couldn’t help the sense of the romantic that stirred within him, the fact that he knew that both Martha and Daniel were really good people who deserved this, and the knowledge that trouble was coming, and his friend didn’t deserve to face it alone. “If you…don’t make it,” he stammered, not wanting to let someone close to him die, but ready to face it for Dan’s sake if it came, “…I’ll….I’ll take care of Martha. I’ll tell her, and I’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”

“If the Doctor doesn’t first,” Winters coughed, grinning recklessly at him, ignoring the purple tint to his spittle. Tim guessed it was blood, but it looked different-somehow not human. And why was he so happy?

‘Because a loved one would be taken care of,’ he thought. ‘I’d want the same, if I was him.’

For some reason, Martha didn’t notice. And then he realized that was because she was begging John Smith to open the watch, pleading with him to just hold it.

Timothy stood up from crouching next to his friend, his dying friend who, for some reason, couldn’t be helped. Not normally. After studying Dan, seeing the Family, he guessed they were alike. He caught himself, mentally destroyed that thought. ‘They’re nothing alike,’ he reminded himself. ‘Neither are from Earth, and that’s the only similarity between them.’

Of course, he couldn’t know that it wasn’t the only one, that the Family’s lifespan was limited, as was Winters’, but since he wasn’t aware of that fact, he didn’t have to worry about it.

He was beginning to feel that the conversation was an interrogation, one side pitted against another, and if he’d learned one thing from keeping the watch constantly near him, it was that they shouldn’t be fighting each other. Fighting at all was usually bad, but in this case it could bring them to ruin, and times existed where it couldn’t be helped-where the good had to draw the line and stand by it to protect everything. Matron Redfern asked him, somewhat accusingly, why he didn’t just return the watch. She thought of him as a thief, he realized, but that wasn’t the truth at all. The watch had come to him for a reason, had asked him to keep it safe and sound until the right time. He said as much to the other two on the other side of the room, the schoolteacher and the nurse. They didn’t look convinced, and at their incredulous looks, he added, feeling as if he was letting Dan down, “And…because I was so scared of the Doctor.”

Martha didn’t start. She knew, then. She’d known the Doctor-he could tell that much. The matron, on the other hand, looked terrified, whispering the only question that made sense under the circumstances, asking for an explanation.

He had no idea of what he was going to say-the words just came. “Because…I’ve seen him. He’s like fire and ice and rage. He’s like the night and the storm at the heart of the sun. He’s ancient and forever. He burns at the center of time, and he can see the turn of the universe. And…he’s wonderful.” He ignored his teacher imploring him to stop talking, the fear in the older man’s eyes. He couldn’t have stopped, even if he wanted to. The words needed saying-they needed to be spoken, and it seemed to him that they were burning themselves in memory, etching themselves forever in Time.

He wasn’t alone, as Miss Jones stepped forward alongside him. But before she could add her persuasive words, Redfern took out the journal, practically thinking it could help. John wanted to ignore her, to turn away from the madness and the nightmare as it was slowly consuming his life in a flickering flame. He couldn’t disregard the thundering sounds and slight trembling of the floor, as the whole of them moved to the window to watch. Gigantic green fireballs slammed into the countryside around, destroying the land, houses, everything alike. Everyone gasped, although Martha added, “Savages. They’re killing everyone, to get at the Doctor…”

Mr. Smith took the watch, staring at it as if bewitched. “Don’t,” Joan warned him, seeing her loved one dying inside but being unable to do anything about it.

Tim was curious about why it talked to him-he didn’t see himself as particularly special or important. Sure, he was friends with an alien and a servant already, but that’s what being open-minded about things would get you.

Words spilled out of his teacher’s mouth, so quickly that he barely caught them-something about a telepathic field and a exo-synaptic engram. He quickly snapped out of it again, but Latimer liked the accent-it was charismatic, eager, finding awe in every single little scientific advance. He’d have liked the Doctor, just as he liked Dan.

Tim had done his part, and, he sensed, nothing else remained for him to do. He went and crouched next to his friend, who was looking worse than when they’d arrived.

It was Martha’s turn for convincing Mr. Smith to do the right thing, and she just reminded them how much they all needed the Doctor to save the day. At the end, she hesitated, and then continued. “He is everything. He is just everything to me, and he doesn’t even look at me, but I don’t care. ‘Cause I love him to bits, and I hope he doesn’t remember me saying this.”

“What about Daniel?” he asked critically.

She smiled sadly. “It’s like there’s a piece of him, that actually notices me. I can’t get enough!”

The coward in Mr. Smith came out, suggesting they just give the Family of Blood what they wanted, and while Martha protested and Joan read the journal, which predicted destruction if they did, Tim hugged his friend, knowing that the end was coming and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it. John sobbed once again that he didn’t want to die.

Dan knew that it was his turn, to offer another option. “No one does. But I can give you a choice-Martha-where no one has to die.” He took a deep breath, then stated his plan. “I can open the watch.”

“No!” Martha screamed. She didn’t want him to leave, didn’t want her Doctor to forget her again.

“No one will die, I promise you. It’ll still be me, but it’ll be the Doctor too.” He tried to reassure her, tried to keep a gentle look in his eyes, but it didn’t help. Her heart was breaking, the tears streaming down her face. He longed to reach out, to stroke her face, to embrace her and tell her it was all right, but he lacked the energy. The best he could do was to stand, leaning heavily on the wall for support without appearing to need the propping up. He couldn’t keep it up for long-he could already feel one of his hearts beginning to fail.

He found his ability to focus dissolving, and put all his energy into it-into convincing Martha. He stared at her, letting her eyes mesmerize him. “Martha, I love you. And I wouldn’t leave you, not like this…” He didn’t want to add the rest, that he’d prefer this to dying, but he didn’t have the words to add this unhappy fact to her burden.

While she loved him, honestly, firmly, in a way she hadn’t anyone but the Doctor, at the same time she couldn’t imagine the Doctor ever loving her in the way Daniel Winters did. ‘I am the Doctor-your Doctor!’ he felt tempted to shout, not only to her, so she’d listen, but to the world. For once in his life, he was willing to take the responsibility that came from being in a relationship. He’d never done it before-but then again, he’d never wanted it so much either. He wanted the universe to know.

For that reason, she didn’t want him to change-but she didn’t know that it wouldn’t be a change, and he couldn’t really tell her that bit. He didn’t want her to make the choice, swayed by this little bit of information. Yes, he probably ought to confess, but he found himself clinging to the knowledge that she just loved him for being him, not for his resemblance to her worst crush (although that probably helped his attractiveness factor). If anything, though, the Doctor would become a little more like Dan.

Even Mr. Smith didn’t want this. “No. I’ll do it.”

The look in Winters’ eyes as he glanced at John made the schoolteacher look away, frightened by the cold sadness in his ‘cousin’s’ features. “You’ve got the chance-to do what the Doctor never could. To live a normal life, to be happy here, on Earth, in one, single time. Don’t throw it away without thought. I can handle it-I’m like the Doctor.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Martha could barely see now, the tears soaking her clothing and dripping down her chin. “I need you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He barely smiled, summoned the energy to move to her for a tight hug. “I love you so much. I won’t leave-I promise. And I’ll try not to change that much. My feelings for you can’t be so easily swept aside-the love of a Time Lord transcends the boundaries of Time itself.” He clasped her close against him, kissing the top of her head, feeling her shaking like a leaf as he ran his hand over the back of her head carefully, running his fingers through her hair almost as an afterthought.

She wasn’t trying to stop crying, now, and the thought of her so sad sent chills through him, but somehow, through it all, he managed to take strength from her presence. It gave him a few more minutes, at least. At last, she pulled away, giving him what fragments of a smile she could summon. She’d made her decision, though what had changed her mind she wasn’t sure. “You want to do this, don’t you? You wouldn’t be the man I loved if you didn’t. You’d sacrifice yourself for us all.”

Dan grinned, that Doctorish grin that warmed her heart. “Yeah, sorry. You’ve got me pegged.”

Her smile now turned bittersweet. “If the Doctor kills you by possessing your body, he’s as bad as the Family of Blood, and, rest assured, I will kill him.”

That lopsided smile came now, the one that the Doctor used when he really shouldn’t be amused at such a solemn situation, but can’t help himself. “Rest assured, I’ll keep that in mind.”

He shooed John Smith out of the room. “I’m not leaving,” the schoolteacher promised, “I’ll be here when you need me.”

“Yeah, yeah, out! If the watch recognizes you, it’ll take you as the more ‘correct’ vessel.” Winters was smiling gently, still gesturing at him. “You too, Matron Redfern. I don’t think you’re supposed to be here either.”

“I’m sorry-about earlier,” she apologized. For a woman of her time and upbringing, he had to hand it to her-she sincerely wanted to help. She hadn’t intended to harm any, and she felt sorry for him, knowing that she was about to die, even as she, with blushing cheeks, rejoiced in the fact that it wouldn’t be her John dying to save the world.

A brilliant smile broke out on his face. “Aw, no prob. I’ve got this thing-I get in trouble a lot. Once more isn’t gonna make a difference, is it? By the way…like I said, wanderlust runs in the family. Keep an eye on him, get him to stay if you can, and if not…travel the known world with him. It’s so very small. And the universe is so very big. But it’s a lot bigger if you’re…human.” Miss Jones could almost swear he about used the word ‘mortal’ instead, before deciding it might be a wee bit insulting.

“Thank you,” she stated, meaning it.

“Don’t mention it.” The gaze turned hard as steel, and she hurried out of the room, unsure of the quicksilver changes in mood. Soon, only Martha and Tim were left, and the latter made to leave.

“Don’t…stay, please….” Daniel found his voice starting to go, and slumped against the table. He felt Martha’s strong arms under his arms, supporting him.

“What’s wrong?” Her worried eyes stared into his own, the gaze fixing him to the spot. For a minute, under her spell, he almost told her the truth, but then he heard the call of the watch.

It sparkled under his fingers, crackling with the energy of life, with energy on the edge of perception reminding him ever so much of that of the Vortex-that in the heart of the TARDIS. And it sang a song of Gallifrey, of the Doctor forever striding through the mists of time, of adventures and lives lost and victories won.

He shook his head, as distracted now as most would have been by a fly. Not that he didn’t notice Martha-she was now on the edge of his narrowed perception, looking beautiful and worried. Rather, it was the concern she’d brought up-it no longer affected him, had any hold at all over him, really. “Hurts…” He noticed his voice come out, but it no longer seemed his own, but far away-so far away.

The watch had awakened, and it was calling for its master. The time was now-he had to open it. It longed to be free and dashing about once more. It had sat for as long as it’d wanted to, and then the restlessness took hold.

Following an impulse, he kissed the dark cheek, brought closer to him by fretting for his own sake, and opened the watch.

He shook as the tendrils of light invaded his body, coming in through every facial opening and the pores of his skin…And he opened his mouth as wide as it could go, nostrils flaring, eyes opening wide in what might be pain, fear, or awe. He inhaled deeply, once again following instinct. The feeling that came was like walking on clouds. Gone was any agony caused by the sear of the Family’s weapons, gone the still-healing welts on his back, gone any thought of dying because of his identity. It was every good feeling he’d ever had, all at once, the kisses, the general joy of being alive, the awe and wonder at a new scientific device, the adrenaline of pounding feet in a thousand chases, the indescribable beauty of the universe. In a word, it was brilliant. He only wished he could share it with Martha.

A gigantic smile spread across his face as he inhaled deeply.

And just as suddenly as the bliss had begun, a new blend of emotions swept across him-suffering, terror, wrath…all the dark emotions that scared the Doctor so much he locked them away, deep inside, where he’d hoped he’d never see them again…

With a gasp, he doubled over, brain shutting down to protect him from what the second wave was doing to his body. He couldn’t stand this one. All Dan wanted was another look at his Martha Jones. He knew she stood next to him, trying to help protect him from whatever might come. His companion was reacting as a doctor would, trying to diagnose the trouble, find a solution, while all the time trying to calm down the patient. He knew that somewhere inside the madness, the roiling chaos that had become his world, lay the peaceful serenity that had gotten him through so many situations, the cheerful optimism that had saved him so many times, but he no longer had the strength to brave the storm-his own creation-to grab it. He couldn’t even open his eyes, which he’d squeezed shut at some point. The tears began streaming down his face as he fought the losing battle to stay conscious. Winters could hear Martha’s wonderful voice, washing over him with a soothing feel, but it wouldn’t be enough-not near enough, to stop the horror overtaking him. He couldn’t even hear what she was saying, and fought a rising panic. He wasn’t in control. He could feel her hands, rushed, but so professional, taking his arms, checking what was going on. She hadn’t gone to pieces, not as he had. Okay, so his condition was probably killing her emotionally, but she wasn’t screaming or anything-at least, he didn’t think so. His hearts twinged with one positive emotion-pride. He felt love overwhelm him as he went under. At least he’d be out of it, his last thought something pleasant, he thought vaguely.