Chapter Text
They left.
(So many people, so much talking, so much arguing, so many emotions, after decades of blissful solitude.)
He watched the Doctor’s TARDIS take off, saw the instruments in front of him register the moment they left the pocket universe.
(Peace, quiet, stillness all around him, like clear water on a sweltering day.)
He took a deep breath, stood up straight and let go of the control panel.
He’d barely moved a muscle, but they’d done as he told them. His power invisible, yet it had moved giants. He had never done that before (never had a reason, nor the power) - never forced his will through like this.
He knew he had only delayed the ongoing confrontation, but the Doctor had yielded…
‘Oh father - I can see why you love it so.’
He could also see why it was so addictive. To just force the arguments to go away - it was an option he’d never really thought of before. So far he’d tended to just lie, or to let people draw their own conclusions; hide himself away…
Yet that had backfired rather spectacularly. He’d let the Doctor believe whatever he wanted, hoping that if the Doctor thought he adhered to all the unwritten rules he’d be left alone. Which - to be fair - had worked beautifully until today.
However, three hundred years’ worth of harsh honesty in one go was not ideal, and the Doctor had (predictably) reacted very badly.
And it would probably all have been salvageable if it hadn’t been for… Jerusalem.
It was still playing in his mind, glorious and undiminished by everything else that had been happening.
Bring me my Bow of burning gold;
Bring me my Arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!
He’d stepped into a chariot of fire - bow, arrows and spear at the ready - but all they saw was danger of burning and tried to drag him out.
But how could anyone abandon a chariot like that?
I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:
Till we have built Jerusalem,
In England's green & pleasant Land
The hymn was, in many ways, mad impossibility, and yet the vision it contained so glorious that how could anyone be unmoved? He’d only given in once before (so young, so very high), and he still remembered the exhilarating feeling of a thousand people, all singing with his voice.
Yet that had been a misstep, no matter how seductive.
That kind of power was… intoxicating. The key word being ‘toxic’.
Because ordinary people were far too… biddable.
The word hit him like it always did, straight in the chest, somewhere between his hearts. So heavy he sank with the very weight of it.
‘Not this time’, he decided, face hardening. ‘There is another way now. I’ve hidden myself away for centuries, I refuse to let ancient fears get in the way of this.’
Slowly, he smiled. His father had shown him the way… It was so delightfully absurd that he almost laughed out loud.
‘I will be Alexander the Great, and they won’t stop me.’
Despite everything - so happy. He never seemed to have the emotions people expected. Maybe he’d feel guilty later.
His future still lay there, golden and incredible, yet everyone would be breathing down his neck now. His father, eager to exploit him; the Doctor, desperate that he should not ‘go bad’. Jack, worried. Roda... might just leave completely. And she’d be unhappy. River would leave him alone probably - but then their lives intersected so very rarely anyway.
He was caught between them all, the way he had always been, but this time there was no telling them to leave him alone...
What he needed was time. Time to work out what he wanted to do, and how. Golden ideas needed to manifest themselves physically, or they were no good - the how was vital... The wrong ‘how’ could be worse than nothing.
But how to get the peace he needed? He had a planet, sure, could even lock it, but both Jack and Roda had unlimited access, and he didn’t want others putting pressure on them. Didn’t want Roda to feel that her one bolt hole in the universe was somewhere she was no longer welcome. He needed to get away, but where? Where could he find peace and quiet?
Stretching, he flexed his shoulders and pulled off the coat, throwing it over a dead Dalek, before rolling up his sleeves. Right now he had work - beautiful, hard, wonderful work. Clearing his mind to focus on the immediate issues, he stowed the problems into a side space where they could tick over in peace while he worked.
The spoils of war - being able to move planets was a boon he was more than happy to claim. So much incredible Dalek technology, he felt like a kid in a sweet shop. Winning… was good. Yes, it had been a good day. Nevermind the Doctor’s moral conniptions.
~~~~
Clara gratefully took the teacup given to her by an enigmatic twin. She seemed to remember that originally they had planned to go to Torchwood in order to meet these twins… And Jack and Roda of course. Had that only been this morning? She took a sip of her tea and tried to look around to take in the surroundings better.
Torchwood, it turned out, resided in an underground base in Cardiff, and was strange mixture of Victorian tiling and futuristic technology. Jack was there when they arrived, but Roda had already gone out, although Jack had added ‘Left her keys, though. Can’t have gone far.’
This seemed to calm the Doctor, for which she was also grateful. She was used to the Doctor being at the heart of everything, of having to fix things, of fighting… And today had seemed all sideways. Nothing had worked out like it should. Mostly she felt very small and insignificant.
The Doctor was pacing unhappily, the Master - thankfully handcuffed to a large metal structure - throwing snide remarks at him at every opportunity.
River and Jack (and Clara herself) were sitting on various pieces of office furniture, drinking the tea the twins had made.
The Doctor had taken a cup also, only to immediately go off on another rant about how they need to ‘Make him see sense!’, which had necessitated arm waving, and had left the cup empty and some odd-looking equipment drenched.
Jack had taken a deep breath, and the twins had poured a fresh cup before spiriting away the now fizzling contraption.
She was beginning to see why the Seeker had been struggling to describe them - they were two, yet moved as one, mostly silent and seemingly anticipating what people would want or say. And they were undeniably beautiful, in a strange other-worldly way. Large purple eyes sat above tall cheekbones; jet-black hair - carefully and ornately pulled back - fell almost to their waist, and their skin was the colour of dark honey. They would not have looked out of place on Akhaten, she thought, their colourful silk robes (one orange, one green) elegant, yet practical. Currently she could spy them working on fixing whatever the tea incident had broken and found herself mesmerised. It truly was like watching a creature with two heads and four arms… Purple eyes apart they - physically - looked human (although she couldn’t have said which gender), but watching them work she was curious which species they actually were. They seemed more alien than the Doctor, despite his many different faces. (They had given her the strangest look when they arrived, yet not said anything. Disconcerting was maybe the best word to describe them.)
“But what did you say to him?” the Doctor was rounding on the Master now, angry and frustrated, and the Master lifted an eyebrow. Clara turned her head from the twins to study the confrontation - she, too, would like to know the answer to this. The Master chuckled, studying the Doctor as if he was a child.
“I thought that would be obvious, Doctor. I told him he was a hero.”
Jack’s teacup stopped halfway to his mouth.
“I’m sorry?”
The Master sighed.
“Why are we here? This one’s so stupid. And don’t I get any tea?”
One of the twins raised its head, studied him coolly, then resumed working while the other said ‘No’ in a flat, disinterested tone.
“Heroes inspire worship,” River said slowly, her eyes fastening on the Doctor. “Worship, dedication, loyalty…”
A slow smile spread across the Master’s face.
“Clever thing, aren’t you? All the points to the woman who was mad enough to marry you, Doctor.” He glanced over at the Doctor with amused superiority. “My dear son now possesses all the most important things he needs for ruling - or at least to make an excellent start. All I did was point it out.”
“All you did…” the Doctor said slowly, and the Master smirked. He seemed to have a whole line in smirks. All of them unpleasant.
“Indeed. He is my son, I knew he’d be able to see the possibilities. The prophecy was a surprise, although a very welcome one.” A sudden bark of laughter. “You see Doctor, it was all predestined, so don’t you be blaming me!”
The Doctor glared, then abruptly turned to Jack.
“Jack - he asked you to stop him. He knew about the prophecy, and must have told you too…”
Jack shook his head.
“Stop. Doctor, I know what you’re doing, what you’ll ask. And the answer is no. What happened between myself and the Seeker is… private.”
River’s eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head musingly.
“You know I always wondered about you two.”
Jack’s jaw dropped.
“What the- why does everyone think that? Nothing of that sort has ever happened between us! Hell I’ve never so much as kissed him!’
The Master cleared his throat.
“As someone more than happy to opt out of that ‘everyone’ can I just say thank you for laying my mind to rest? Not that I think he’d ever stoop as low as you…”
Jack’s face clouded over in pure anger, so furious that Clara almost felt it physically. But only for a moment. Instead his eyes turned steely grey, and - setting aside his tea cup and embedding his hands in his pockets - with measured steps he walked up to the Master, studying him silently for a long moment before speaking.
“Master. Try this quandary on for size one day, if you feel up to it: If your son had to make a choice between you and me - whom would he go for?”
The Master shook his head, his face a dismissive sneer.
“Don't be ridiculous.”
But Jack only smiled. Slow, almost predatory, yet with perfect confidence.
“Of course. ‘Ridiculous’. But think about it. You... or me.”
Clara gripped her cup. Something had shifted. With a few words Jack had somehow won a battle she sensed had gone on for… how long? Centuries? They were all so old. What had the Seeker said about Jack? ‘Because I love him best.’ More than his own father? No wonder Jack had given his loyalty...
Suddenly it all just seemed ridiculous - how could any of it be real? She’d watched herself die… Maybe it was all a dream.
Then there was a whoosh of wind and the Seeker’s TARDIS faded into existence, branches and tree trunk materialising next to the Doctor’s blue box.
Did this mean more arguments? She just wanted to go home...
~~~~
The Doctor took a deep breath, straightened his bow tie.
‘I need to make him see sense. Need to… something. But how?’
A few seconds later the door opened and the Seeker leaned himself against the doorframe. He was no longer wearing his coat, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up, his previously white shirt now greased and dirty. He still had the cigar, but it was nearly burnt down to the end, and he looked exhausted, but satisfied.
With a wry smile touching his mouth he let his eyes pass over them all.
“Oh look, it’s my judge and jury.”
The Doctor remembered a little boy. Golden haired and brown eyed, four years old (four and three quarters, an indignant little voice reminded him), being asked what he wanted to do when he grew up…
The boy’s eyes had lit up. “I want be a fireman, or a space adventurer, or the ruler of the world!”
The Doctor had dragged a hand through his hair.
“Alex, we've talked about this. The answer is still no, you can’t!”
But the boy had only lifted his chin defiantly. “But Daddy said I could! Daddy promised!”
“Yes, but that was a long time ago, and he's no longer in a position to make such promises, is he now?”
The boy was stubborn though: “But I'd be really nice! I don't like burning things - I'd look after everyone.”
The Doctor had sighed, seeing the father’s influence far too clearly...
“You can't. Humans need to look after themselves.”
“Daddy said I could rule the whole universe! And we’d have a castle! You’re not fair!”
He felt like he was back to square one. Three hundred years, and they had not moved, except he was no longer dealing with a small stubborn child but a supremely capable adult, yet with the very same dreams. How had it come to this? Where had he gone wrong?
He really ought to say something - except he wasn’t sure what. Everything so far had gone wrong.
Before he could make up his mind, the Seeker - so very much like his father this time round, even in looks - sighed. The anger that had flared when they left was clearly long gone.
“Look, I’m not going to take over the world today, OK? Or even tomorrow, would you believe it. Quite frankly I’m knackered as it’s been a very, very long day, so I’m really not in the mood for further extended discussion about morality… If you want to argue and try to make me ‘see sense’, can we reschedule for tomorrow? My planet, ten o’clock.”
Glancing around the Doctor saw the relief on Clara’s face, and supposed it had been a long day for all of them… And there was River. He didn’t know what to do with her either.
“Very well,” he eventually replied, and the relief on the Seeker’s face was evident.
“Thank you. And now for the second reason I’m here…” A sudden, mischievous smile broke out on his face, so at odds with the general mood that the Doctor took a few seconds to process it.
“...I’ve come for some TLC.”
A pause followed his words, as everyone studied him, surprised.
The Master grinned.
“Sorry son, don’t think the lovely Redjay is going to be very forthcoming with her pleasures for the foreseeable future. Besides, she’s skedaddled as she always does.”
Another sigh.
“Dad, I don’t suppose it’s any use to tell you not to gloat quite so openly over the fact that I’ve alienated all my friends? The rest of you - you’re all idiots. Roda and I are friends, I wouldn’t dream of asking her now. No... this is very different.”
Looking past them all, he smiled - eyes warm and happy, his whole demeanor so changed from the glum looks he had aimed at the rest of them that it could have been a different man:
“Shafali. Neelam. I would be honoured to accept your proposition.”
There was a beat as they looked around, confused, but Jack turned to the twins, eyes widening.
“Wha- Twins?”
“We have names you know,” one of them said, archly.
“Although apparently only the Seeker seems to remember them,” the other added.
“I’m probably the only one who can tell you apart,” the Seeker replied, smiling, then tilted his head, voice suddenly silky smooth.
“I don’t think this was the face you were expecting. But then… I don’t believe it’s my face you’re interested in.”
Identical smiles graced their beautiful faces.
“No, what we are looking for is something much more than skin deep… Time Lord.”
Taking a step out of his TARDIS, he held out a hand.
“Seek, and ye shall find.”
As they walked across the central space, perfectly composed, Jack was the first to find his voice.
“I… don’t understand. What proposition? When?”
The Seeker took a slow drag of what was left of his cigar.
“They - you - sent a message. The message was encrypted with Jamie’s Song. Only one person in the universe would understand what that meant… Me.”
“Oh.” The Doctor’s eyes widened, understanding flooding in, as he remembered the encoded message earlier on - and the manner of the encoding. Sex… as music. (Although that was a crude sort of description - what he had seen had been stunningly beautiful.) “So that’s why- but-”
“But nothing. If you would excuse me, Doctor, I shall claim these last spoils of war.”
He studied the twins, eyes dancing:
“Do you mind being called that?”
One of them turned, amused.
“Jack calls us worse.”
“But-” The Doctor was thrown, and flailing, he knew it, and yet...
“Do you know who he is? What he did?”
They both looked at him, purple eyes an ocean of calm. He once more marvelled at what they could possibly be - he’d never come across anything like them. No wonder Jack had asked him to come along to meet them.
“He is a hero. The saviour of worlds. And we wouldn’t exist without him.”
“We will not apologise for being intrigued-”
“-Or grateful. To be perfectly honest-”
“-one of the main reasons we took the job was for an opportunity like this.”
And with matching enigmatic smiles they swept into the Seeker’s TARDIS.
For a second he stared after them open-mouthed, probably looking several kinds of fool, before turning to the Seeker, grasping for words.
“Seeker - this? Now? Didn’t you hear a word I said?”
The Seeker turned in the TARDIS’ doorway, studying him with something between confusion and suspicion.
“You don’t know who they are... Oh Doctor, you are getting old. Are you forgetting things on purpose now?”
When he didn’t reply - his mind scrambling for some sort of pointer to who the duo could possibly be and coming up blank - the Seeker shook his head, eyes growing cold.
“They are flesh and blood reminders of the worst thing I ever did. So don’t you dare stand in judgement of my conscience!”
With that he slammed the doors to his TARDIS shut, and a second later it dematerialised.
Turning, thrown and lost, he studied the others.
“Who are they?”
Eventually Jack replied.
“The twins are... the great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren of Josh and Jamie.”
It took a moment to bring their faces, and stories, to the fore of his mind, and then he almost winced physically, fingers threading together nervously without realising.
Yes he remembered. Little Josh, who’d been around since the boy was four, charming and ambitious - he’d become an architect, his buildings exquisite and extraordinary. He’d been thinking about taking Clara on a tour to see them all. And enigmatic Jamie, as beautiful as sie was unique, grasping hir inheritance beyond what anyone could have imagined.
But above all he remembered the Seeker’s face. He had been young, so very, very young - twenty one years old, only a child... brown eyes pleading, yet composed, taking full responsibility for what had happened even though it had been an accident - the shock clearly still reverberating through him.
‘Doctor... Help me. Please - I didn’t mean to, I didn’t understand, I… I only meant to be kind. They’re my best friends, they trusted me. And now - human minds are so fragile, I didn’t realise...’
The Doctor had felt a chill go through him.
‘Seeker - what did you do?’
A smile far too bitter for someone so young.
‘What dad did to mum. And what’s more, I understand why he did it.’
The Doctor had shaken his head.
‘You can’t know that-’
‘Yes I can.’ The response had been unequivocal. (The Doctor dearly wished it hadn't been necessary to share why.)
‘Just please, help me. Fix them. Undo what I did. Please Doctor, I’m scared. It would be so easy to...’
His voice had trailed off, but it had been simple to fill in all the blanks. So easy to take advantage. So easy to take his father’s path. So easy to pretend it was a one-off, that it wouldn’t happen again…
As lessons went, it had been a harsh one. Moreso because the Doctor had not been able to reverse the damage... In the same way as how even a small drop of colour would irreversibly change the hue in a glass of water, they were forever more watching the world through different eyes.
(Not that they knew, or had ever understood, what had happened. To them, the world had always been golden, and didn’t grasp how it could be otherwise.)
“Ahhh, it all makes sense now” the Master said, with deep satisfaction. “Guess he was too young back then, although it was flawlessly done - so perfectly biddable I couldn’t have done it better myself. I'm pleased he finally seems to understand that it's no less than he deserves.”
But the Doctor stayed silent.
‘Worst thing I ever did’ still rang in his ears. And for the first time since he had found Earth missing he felt like maybe, maybe he could breathe.
Eventually he looked around, his eyes slowly fastening on River. He hadn’t known whether to run towards or away, but finally… Maybe he could step into the past for just a little while.
“River Song. Could I ask you out to dinner?”
She met his eyes, unflinching, composed, yet wary. (She knew. She always knew.)
“On one condition.” A beat, as her face stayed completely devoid of emotion, although somehow he sensed that there was laughter hidden in her eyes. “We don’t talk about the kids.”
~~~~
He stayed under the water for as long as he could. How did humans cope without a respiratory bypass system? He was weightless, cushioned, and everything was peaceful.
Eventually he had to breathe and broke through the surface feeling almost new. A spectacular sunset was painting the sky in hues of brightest amber to darkest red, the grass looked aflame, and the surface of the lake was like molten gold.
But what made him smile wasn’t the beauty of his planet - it was the laughter.
The twins were playing with the Toclafane, trying to spray them with water, but the spheres were too fast and always moved just before they were soaked.
(They had been his very first playthings - he could still recall reaching out, delighted, for their bright lights and funny voices when he was a tiny baby. They had been the best toys ever, and he had been sad when they’d disappeared.)
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard laughter like that - happy and carefree. Not since before he’d regenerated, certainly. He’d been so busy, burying himself in work…
‘This is what I want’, he thought. A quote floated up from somewhere - detached from its origin, yet it made his smile deepen with its aptness.
‘I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by.’
Not that Shafali and Neelam were children… In any way.
Sensing his presence they turned, like mirror images, dark eyes watching him, slim bodies outlined against the sky, shimmering with wetness. Desire weighed down the air between them - what they wanted; what they would give in return.
(So many things he’d never made time for yet in this regeneration. But then he’d died alone, his first memories in his new body waking up in the destroyed remnants of the work of nearly a century. There had been nothing but devastation. He had been wrong - made a simple mistake - and the consequences had been… incalculable. His ginger self had been so confident, so sure - but this time he had been born into doubt and the aftermath of failure.
He had gone to find Roda and she had looked at him with eyes he could only now read, and softly shaken her head: ‘I’m sorry...’
Jack hadn’t been much better, essentially saying ‘Come back later’. Maybe that’s why he had built his TARDIS… He wondered if any of them knew why it looked like a tree. (Things lost, yet the memories were still alive, still meaningful.) But the TARDIS had led to the Toclafane, and the Toclafane to this day… So how could he regret any of it?)
‘Come.’
The evening was warm, but with enough of a breeze to make the air pleasant rather than humid. He sank into the soft grass with a beautiful body in each arm, and for a single moment the sense memories threatened to paralyse him.
But today was the beginning of the rest of his life, and he knew he would never be able to move forward before laying the ghosts of the past to rest.
‘Sing to me. Sing me your songs. Your hopes and dreams, your life, your world.’
(Their existence pure chance. Tracing it back, they had sprung from a criminal fugitive, a one-night stand, a chance meeting - and his own… ‘miracle making’. Could such serendipity happen when order was applied? How far could you interfere? How far did the end justify the means? Where did he go from here? What was the best path to take?)
'We have waited for you. We will sing, if you will bathe us in your light.'
And then there were lips against his, hands drifting along his chest, and music filling his mind… And he let himself sink into the release and joy they offered, waves of pleasure washing away all worries and doubts and dreams; and this time he would not break them.
Letting himself fall into the eternal now, he forgot everything about the past or the future.
~~~
The next morning dawned with a twin sunrise fit to be described as one of the wonders of the universe. The sky changed from deepest ruby to clear amber, the distant snow-capped mountains glowed like diamonds, and as the silver leaves of the forest caught the golden light they looked like molten fire rippling across the valley.
And all across the sky, right out to the horizon, endless, endless Toclafane, moving as if in a silent dance, shifting in countless patterns, the sunlight fracturing over and over again against their shells, and the Seeker - standing at the top of the tall, graceful tower that formed the centre of his house - thought his hearts might stop at the sheer unexpected beauty.
(He had promised them a home. Had never imagined they would repay him in beauty.)
Dispatching Harvey with barely more than a breath, he didn’t have to wait long before he was joined by Shafali and Neelam - their curious looks changing into stunned, wordless appreciation as they turned to take in the view.
(He’d thought of them as one person in two bodies… Only now did he understand how wrong he had been. They were more like two people in one body - so distinctive, he wondered how he had ever thought them similar.)
For the longest time they all three just stood there, drinking in the beauty, and the Seeker marvelled at how much things could change in a single day.
He felt… free.
There had been some mightily uncomfortable moments the day before, but everything was out in the open now. No more lies. No more hiding. And he had a dream, a purpose, a goal.
Of course the Inquisition would be arriving in a few hours, and he had plenty to do before then…
‘Come on, my gorgeous ones. I was going to make waffles. And then I’m going to ask you to do me a favour…’
~~~
They stood outside the Seeker’s front door, watching as the Doctor’s TARDIS appeared in the large circular courtyard, and the Doctor, River, Clara and the Master stepped out. The Master still in handcuffs.
‘Do you think he slept in those?’
‘Hope so.’
But Clara and River were wearing different clothing, so presumably they’d had a rest. Clara was looking around curiously, and Shafali’s eyes narrowed. (There was a dead girl in Torchwood’s mortuary, whose name was Clara Oswald, and who looked exactly like this one. They’d started a new line of research whilst waiting for Earth to be saved, and had so far turned up twenty three girls with matching names and faces from Earth’s history. Clara looked like she was going to make a very interesting project.)
A moment later Roda’s TARDIS turned up, with Roda and Jack. (Roda looked wary, but much better than she had the evening before. Which was good. They liked Roda.)
Neelam waved, and Jack waved back, then looked around and caught the Doctor’s eyes, before focussing on them again.
“Twins… Where is he?”
Shafali tilted hir head.
“He left.”
The Doctor stepped forward.
“What do you mean, ‘left’? Where did he go?”
Shafali smiled, as Neelam explained: “Somewhere impossible. But he gave us a message to pass on.”
Pressing a button, they activated the hologram message, and the Seeker popped to life - if a see-through hologram could be deemed ‘life’. The hologram smiled:
‘Hello everyone! I hope you are all well rested, and have polished your arguments to a shine. I’m so very sorry I can’t be there to hear them, but I’m sure you’ll still remember them when I return. You see, I decided I needed a break to get my head together in peace and quiet and work out what I’m doing - so I’m off to do a little inter-dimensional travel. And Doctor, before you say something… It is not impossible. Just ask a Dalek.’
He grinned wickedly, before the smile faded.
‘Roda, Jack - I hope you will still consider this place as your own. The Toclafane are not allowed on the southern hemisphere, so you should be able to visit without ever knowing they’re there. Everyone else - the planet is going into lockdown in an hour from the end of this message, so unless you want to be trapped, please leave. And if someone could give the gorgeous twosome a lift back home, that would be great. See you when I get back!’
He winked, and the hologram flashed out of existence.
After that there was some confusion and shouting and arm waving, which they watched with quiet amusement. No wonder he’d wanted to get away.
Lacing hands together they waited for the commotion to die down so they could get home, tilting their heads so they could watch the Toclafane above, trying to map the patterns (they were good at patterns, their minds constantly spinning out along potential possibilities - they had streamlined Torchwood to a degree Jack hadn’t thought possible), and marvelling at the delightful complexity.
(‘They are us, in the far, far future. One day we will save the universe.’)
A single day, and the whole cosmos could change. They looked at each other and smiled - it had been a good day.