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Fic: Alien Abduction. Chapter 5/5.
And finally we get to the end. Although (as always) I had a lot of stuff to cram in so it's a bit longer than anticipated... But - at least it's finally done! \o/ And there's waffles, oh yes. (Masterlist of 'verse here.)
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Interlude | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4
Summary: This story begins with abduction and ends with waffles. In between there's some adventuring and some heartache and a fair few truths are revealed.
Setting: 2023 (Alex is 16).
Characters: The Doctor (Tenth), the Master (Simm), Lucy, Jack, OCs (Alex, Matt, Josh)
Rating: PG-13.
Word count: 5000 words approx.
Feedback: Will be treasured beyond belief!
Chapter 5
The Seeker couldn’t sleep.
From a linear point of view it was morning now, but he knew that his mind was far too crowded to calm down for a long, long time, so he didn’t even bother trying.
(People dead, because of him. That had never happened outside a paradox before...)
He’d finally gotten his friends settled - the two of them had barely been capable of walking straight by the end of the TARDIS tour, but there had still been endless questions that the Seeker had done his best to answer. Mostly from Matt, though... Josh had taken it all in, but he’d generally kept his queries focussed on technical questions about time travel, or how the TARDIS structure reflected Gallifreyan architecture, until finally he asked the question that had obviously been bothering him all along.
“Alex... Just how... how many races has your uncle killed?”
The Seeker had stopped, doing his best to look Josh straight in the eye, and trying very hard not think about strangling his father for bringing up that particular subject.
“Many. Including his own.”
For a moment his friends had just stood there, disbelieving, and the Seeker had continued, praying that the chasm wasn’t unbridgeable.
“He’s not even my real uncle. He just happens to be the only other member of my species still in existence, apart from my father.”
“How-” Josh’s words seemed stuck in his throat, and the Seeker had sighed.
“I told you there was a war. The last Great Time War, with the fate of the universe itself in the balance. Imagine... imagine that the Second World War had gone very differently, and Churchill had discovered that the only way to win would be to destroy England. And then he, himself, somehow survived, having to live with the choice he made. That’s the Doctor.”
Before Josh had a chance to reply, he’d held up a hand.
“Can we leave it at that for now? Please? If you want to hate someone, hate my Dad. He deserves it.”
Josh had nodded then, eyes thoughtful, and the Seeker had decided that finding bedrooms was probably a good idea. He needed peace and quiet to process everything...
(He’d known how it would end, had foreseen perfectly how everyone would react, and yet - and yet his father’s murder was weighing on him in ways he hadn’t imagined.)
Getting uncle and Dad to come to bed had been trickier, but he’d pointed out that it was nearing morning and the Torchwood staff would appear soon and with a bit of cajoling and a fair bit of leaning had managed to get them to agree to some sleep. ‘Getting his own way’ being more a question of necessity than of want, for once.
So, what next?
Jack.
Sticking his head out of the TARDIS door, he saw Jack busy with something-or-other, and called out that he was going to take the TARDIS home to his mother’s, and would be making some breakfast in not too long if Jack wanted some?
Jack made a noncommittal noise, and the Seeker said “Please, Jack?” and then Jack nodded.
The Seeker would probably have been ashamed of his blatant manipulation if he hadn’t been so set on his goal. All he wanted was everyone getting together for breakfast, for them to be civil and not yelling at each other. They owed him that much at least.
However, breakfast was still a good way off on his itinerary. Closing the door he - making sure to set the TARDIS engines to ‘silent’ - with great care took the time machine out to the vortex, and parked. Time out, literally, was what he needed right now.
Making his way down to his own set of rooms, thoughts kept crowding his mind, and he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with them. Because if he took his mind off the dead (the surgeon had been brilliant, killing was always such a waste. Plus, now he'd never find out where the Rachnoss had come from. Stupid, homicidal Dad!), other things intruded...
He’d been so angry.
Never had he lost his temperament like that - well not since he was six, and he’d thought that rage gone, along with other so many other childish remnants. Just one more thing taken by the Schism, and one he had been grateful to lose. Except not... It had only laid dormant, and he had in that moment been ready to unleash fury he’d not thought himself capable of.
Damn Dad for seeing it. And doubly damn Dad for making him own up to it.
(“...tell me one thing. And be honest. Did you want to kill them?”)
Maybe, he thought to himself, maybe this was why the Doctor never carried weapons. It was far too easy to overreact, and then there was no way back...
At least he knew now. And forewarned was forearmed.
'I really am just like Spock', he thought wryly. 'I wonder, if I’d grown up on Gallifrey, if I’d have gotten into lots of fights...' Shaking his head, he couldn’t help chuckling to himself. He was the Master’s son, he’d have been even more notorious than he was here on Earth.
He’d reached his lab, and began looking through drawers and boxes to find the materials he needed. It was ridiculous - especially considering that he was in a dimensionally transcendent time machine - but he was forever cramped in here, even as the TARDIS kept giving him more space...
But never mind. For now there was work. Blissful, complicated work, that would hopefully help quell the voices in his head, and the still far too tender emotions.
(“Lord Seeker...”)
Lord. No one had ever done that before, addressed him with the proper honorific, like an adult, like an equal... He tasted the words a few times, let them settle in his mind, feeling the weight, the shape, the feel - Lord Seeker.
Even as he couldn’t stop the well of undiluted pleasure that the words inspired, he began wondering how his father known that respect was the one thing he had craved more than anything else? Was he truly his father’s son to such an extent?
Sighing, he forced himself to focus.
Stop thinking. Work. Take what you’ve discovered, project it forward, learn from it, use it. Don’t be caught out again.
***
A long time later, he was rewarded for his hard work with a most beautiful and clever piece of technology. It would have been quicker if he’d had a screwdriver, but never mind. Slow and steady suited him just fine right now - especially since he’d been working from theoretical knowledge only.
Clutching his prize in the palm of his hand he hastened back to the control room and with utmost care piloted the TARDIS to his mother’s house, a few hours before sunrise.
Stepping out into the darkened garden he realised, with a moment’s despair, that he’d parked in the middle of his mother’s favourite flower bed. But since there was nothing he could do about it at the moment, he dismissed it from his mind.
Then, hearts beating, he programmed his little device, and - a fraction of a second later - stood in the middle of his own bedroom. Smiling triumphantly, he immediately made for his box of ‘heirlooms’ and extracted a pendant that had once belonged to his maternal grandmother. He’d always liked it, on account of the ornate ‘S’ that was engraved on the front (his grandmother’s name had been Susan), since the ‘S’ could equally well go with either Saxon or Seeker. Opening it, he looked at the miniature photos where his grandparents, the Lord and Lady Cole, smiled stiffly at him. He was looking forward to meeting them one day, although it’d be a while still - he’d have to wait until he had a different face.
Focussing once more on the task before him, he carefully examined the structure of the locket, and then smiled triumphantly. Oh it would work! Presuming he didn’t completely screw up of course.
He almost went straight back to the TARDIS, but catching sight of himself in the mirror decided that getting dressed might be a good idea. T-shirt, jeans, sandals - yeah, that would do. Tossing the pyjamas into the washing basket, he tried his best to suppress the memories of where they’d been.
Teleporting back to the garden he once more took the TARDIS into the vortex, unsure how long this next part would take. The teleporter wasn’t that much bigger than the locket, but it’d still be tricky to make the locket dimensionally transcendental... But if the Doctor could do it with his pockets, then it had to be possible.
First of all he needed to make a gap between one of the photos and the back of the locket, which was fiddly, but straightforward. The tricky part came next. After carefully re-reading the relevant parts of the TARDIS database he set forth, with a great deal of frustrating trial and error, before he suddenly managed to add about an inch of depth.
Staring dumbfounded at what he’d done, a swell of pure joy rushed through him, and, with hands that were only trembling a tiny bit, he with great care inserted the teleport, making sure to seal it in very thoroughly. Then he folded his grandfather’s oval photo back to cover the controls (a small magnet to keep it in place maybe?) then closed the locket and surveyed it proudly.
A few moments swift search yielded a strong chain, and he then slipped it over his head, feeling the gentle weight settle on his chest over his rapidly beating hearts. He’d done it. He’d truly done it, and all by himself! Why did people spend so much time fighting when they could learn and create instead? It was bewildering.
After taking a moment to bask in his accomplishment, he told himself to get back to business. What next?
Going through the itinerary in his head he hit on ‘camping stuff’ and carefully navigated to the little Welsh valley where their bright orangey yellow tent still stood, taking care to hit sunrise so he could actually see what he was doing. It took him a while to take down the tent and pack everything up, but finally he could dump it all inside the TARDIS door (someone else could tidy up later), and then set off back home again - once more hitting that same spot in the middle of the flower bed. Studying the scene in the light of the morning sun, he began to let the situation sink in:
Mum was going to kill him.
Well, once she woke up.
Letting himself in through the patio doors, he looked through the fridge and cabinets which were under-stocked for his purposes, then - checking the clock on the wall - happily noted that the corner shop would already be open and set off to purchase enough provisions to feed a small army. He’d hopefully have time to make waffles before Mum noticed what he’d done to her roses...
It was a beautiful summer morning, and walking along he waved to a few neighbours who were setting off for work. The calm, quiet normality of it all was balm to his still restless mind - he knew what part to play here, knew who they saw and what he was. The Doctor always revelled in the ordinary-ness of human life, but the Seeker knew that the key lay in not thinking about it; to just be. Except last night his two worlds had collided and he’d yet to regain his equilibrium...
(No one would ever know about the night’s slaughter. He wondered when the Glattians’ families would find out that their loved ones were dead...)
The girl in the shop asked whether he’d had to come home early from his camping trip and by the way, how was that friend of his doing - Josh was it?
Going back home - mindful of the eggs in his shopping bag - the Seeker mused how curiously focussed on sex humans were. No wonder they managed to last until the end of time, considering their preoccupation with procreation. Although the way humans were ruled by their bodies was one of the things he knew he’d never quite understand - and, if he was honest, something he didn’t want to understand. It was bad enough that his emotions had overriden his mind (something he never wanted to experience again), the idea of his body doing the same was truly the stuff of nightmares.
(Control, anticipation and self-knowledge were the key words. Be self-aware enough to know when you might be emotionally compromised...)
Once more in the kitchen he began making waffle batter and put the kettle on, and after a while - as if called by the magic of waffles - Josh and Matt appeared from the TARDIS, looking a bit unsure as they made their way through the garden, but having obviously made use of the TARDIS wardrobe. Matt had found a T-shirt and some cargo trousers, and Josh looked even more stunning than usual in a gold brocade shirt and a pair of jeans that looked too tight to be in any way comfortable.
The Seeker opened the door wide.
“Come in! Breakfast is nearly served.”
His mother appeared at that moment, giving him a happy hug and a kiss, unsurprised to see him suddenly home. She knew how their life could take unexpected turns.
As the Seeker began setting out plates, Josh slowly shook his head, and the Seeker realised that - gold brocade or not - it would take a long time to mend last night’s damage.
“So,” Josh said, studying him, eyes unsure, “is this it? Last night we get abducted, and now we have waffles? Is that how it works?”
The Seeker looked back.
“Yes, that’s how it works. Waffles are nice.”
Before he could try to explain further, he heard his mother’s exclamation, and belatedly realised that he’d not filled her in on the night’s... happenings.
“You were abducted?” she asked, eyes wide, and the Seeker tried to project as much calm as he was capable of.
“Yes, but we are fine, look at us. The Doctor and Dad and Jack came and saved us and nothing bad happened to us at all. The only thing that’s different is that now Matt and Josh know about me.”
Just then - as if on cue - Jack materialised, and the Seeker smiled. Someone to back his story up.
Turning to his mother he saw her brow draw together, and swiftly added:
“It wasn’t anyone’s fault - especially not Jack’s. It was just a bunch of Glattians, they’re very curious and they’d abducted lots of different people from different worlds.”
His mother stood very still for a moment, then said “Very well dear,” in a tone of voice that meant she was only saving the argument for later. Which was probably good, all things considered.
Matt, never one to waste an opportunity, was taking to the waffles with alacrity, but Josh still looked unconvinced, even as Jack sat down and helped himself.
“Listen,” the Seeker tried again, catching Josh’s eyes, “brooding doesn’t help, OK? Oh, actually-” he felt in his pocket for the slip of paper he’d tucked in earlier, “if you need something more than waffles, the girl in the shop gave me her number to give to you. I’m sure you remember her? Dimples, black hair? She’s off to uni at the end of the holidays, but her boyfriend broke up with her and she wouldn’t mind some TLC...”
He held out the paper, and after a moment Josh took it from his hands, eyes still serious, but now holding a spark of understanding.
“Thank you,” he said, and the Seeker tried smiling.
“Nothing we can do can bring those that died back to life. But waffles are nice. Waffles are good. Waffles will always be good, no matter what.”
It was then that his mother noticed the TARDIS.
Her hand flew to her moth in mute horror, then she turned to him, eyes full of disappointment and hurt.
“Alexander! My roses!”
He busied himself with getting hot waffles onto plates.
“It was an accident. I’ll get you new ones! Special ones, from the Hanging Gardens of Babylon-”
“No,” she cut in. “Those were special. Mother planted them when I was born - they’re irreplaceable!”
“I’m sorry...”
She slowly shook her head, eyes narrowing.
“No Alexander. Being sorry isn’t good enough. You need to take responsibility for your actions - fix it.”
A second later he worked out what she meant, and sighed deeply.
“Jack. Wrist strap please.”
Jack opened his mouth, shut it again, and then handed the wrist strap over. Sighing deeply, the Seeker trudged out the door, grabbing the shed keys in the process - although if he was honest, there was a certain relief in being able to fix something.
Carefully programming the vortex manipulator to take him back to 2am he found himself in the dead of night, as silently as possible unlocking the shed and retrieving a spade and some large flowerpots.
Digging up the rose bushes - now and again glancing up at the darkened windows - he contemplated what his mother would say when she found out what exactly had happened last night (well this night)... not a comforting thought. He knew that more than anything she would be appalled at his behaviour - one did not yell at people, nor did one insult them with cheap and tacky remarks. He was better than that, and he had most certainly been brought up better than that. Plus she would ask him why on earth he had not immediately revealed who he was and ordered the Glattians to return him...
The outcome would of course have been the same in the end, but he’d not have compromised his dignity. And rudeness, in his mother’s world, was near unforgivable.
Having dug up and transferred the roses in question, he carefully carried them down to the bottom of the garden where no one would be able to spy them. Then he locked up the shed again, before returning to the morning, leaving just a few seconds’ break.
“They’re at the bottom of the garden,” he said to his mum when he came back in, and she smiled.
“Thank you.”
He handed the wrist strap back, and then noticed Dad and Uncle stepping out of the TARDIS. Dad, smiling widely, exclaimed “Waffles!” with great joy as he walked through the patio doors, but the Doctor still looked a bit under the weather.
However, before the Doctor could even say ‘Goodmorning’, Mum stepped forward and slapped him so hard that he nearly lost his footing.
Staring at her, hurt and confused, he naturally asked, “What was that for?” bringing up a hand to his hurting cheek.
“Alexander was abducted,” she replied coldly.
His eyebrows went skyward.
“And that is my fault?”
“Everything is your fault,” she said bluntly, and the Seeker felt like banging his head against the wall. Mum was on the warpath and now everyone would fight again...
“You didn’t even tell me! And now those aliens are out there, knowing about him and we will never be safe! Not that we were before...”
The Doctor opened his mouth, but - as always with Mum - found that he didn’t really have anywhere to attack.
“Hey, shhhh,” Dad said, a gentle smile on his face as he pulled Mum into his arms, “Didn’t they tell you? I killed them.”
She lifted her head, blinking away the tears she’d been fighting, her face lighting up.
“Really?”
“Of course, my darling.”
The Seeker looked away and saw that the Doctor’s face was once more that hurt, angry mask, and then his eyes moved onto his friends who were watching, clearly not sure how to react. Stepping forward with more waffles, he tried to affect nonchalance.
“Remember what I told you? Evil parents.”
Matt nodded, but Josh didn’t seem that keen on accepting the weirdness. Damn. Although on the plus side it might help him focus on Dad as the one to hate...
“OK, can everyone sit down and eat please?” he said loudly, pouring tea into cups and thinking that he should probably boil another kettle.
“But I’ve not properly greeted your little human friends,” Dad said, walking round the table holding out his hand, that polite smile on his face that always came across as courteous disdain.
“It’s Matt and Josh, isn’t it? You may call me Mr Saxon or Master as you please.”
Matt took his hand as if in a daze, but Josh - going pale, but looking determined - shook his head and folded his arms.
Eyes narrowing, Dad tilted his head.
“Oh, you’re Jack’s little project, aren’t you?”
He turned to Jack, brightly insincere.
“You must be so proud!”
“Dad!” the Seeker said, exasperated. “Please will you just sit down. And stop it.”
Dad pulled his best ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’ face, but the Seeker just scowled and pointed at a chair.
Why was it always him who had to make everyone behave?
‘Because I am the only one they all care about’, his mind filled in. How he longed to just get away... Somewhere - anywhere - a place of his own. Which wouldn’t happen for about a century at least, the way everyone was so desperate to protect him.)
At least they all ate their breakfast as they’d been told to, and the Seeker remembered that he needed to make more tea. But as he turned the kettle on, he heard his mother speak, and glanced over his shoulder, hearts sinking.
“And next time Doctor? What then?”
The Doctor, tea cup halfway to his mouth, faltered, and Dad smiled smugly.
“Anyone harms the boy, they die. Those are the rules now.”
“I should come with a warning - danger of death, do not touch,” the Seeker said to the teapot, trying not to sound too bitter, and he could feel both Jack and the Doctor freezing.
“Seeker,” the Doctor said softly, “it wasn’t your fault.”
Setting the teapot down on the worktop, he carefully turned.
“I know that. Please just eat.”
“If you ever need to talk,” Jack began and the Seeker, frustrated, tried counting to ten, and then took in the whole table with an angry sweep of his eyes.
“I don’t need to talk about what happened, OK? The facts are these: The Glattians are one-track-minded magpies, and Dad is an overprotective psychopath. Add those two up, with me in the middle, and the only possible outcome is that the Glattians die. I saw that from the first moment we woke up on that ship. It’s like... 2 plus 2 always makes 4. The only way of dealing with it is to remove me from the equation - which I can now do, no matter the situation!”
Pulling the pendant out from under his T-shirt, he held it up.
“I made myself a teleport.”
“Mother’s locket,” Mum said, surprised, and the Seeker pulled the chain over his head and let it dangle from his fingers.
“Here, have a look.”
The Doctor reacted first, jumping up and snatching it out of his hands, and mere moments later was studying the modified insides.
“How- when-”
”While you were sleeping,” he smiled, and the Doctor shot him a look that was a thinly disguised warning. Then his father leaned over, raising appreciative eyebrows, and the Seeker tried not to preen too much.
“Works perfectly by the way,” he said, and the Doctor’s head snapped up.
“You tried it?”
“Well of course I tried it. How else would I test that it worked? Although I fixed Jack’s vortex manipulator three years ago, so it’s not like I didn’t know what I was doing...”
(He ought to be ashamed of how easy lying came to him, but there were some things he was not ready to confess - the role his father’s screwdriver had played in fixing Jack’s wrist strap at the top of the list.)
“Yeah - we’ll have to have a talk about that,” Uncle said ominously, but the Seeker wasn’t too worried. Jack would be able to reel off a long list of times when a working teleport had saved the day, and he had done all the theoretical work.
“No wonder you think school is boring,” Matt said quietly, and the Seeker shrugged.
“Pretty much any school would be. And after I’ve done my A-Levels I’ll be free to go do something of my own...”
A wistful note snuck into his voice, but he couldn’t help it. But at his words, his father suddenly looked up.
“Ah yes, that reminds me. You know I promised you something special, something magnificent as a reward for last night?”
The Seeker nodded cautiously, unsure where his father was going with this.
“Well son, after some consideration I came to a decision.” He paused for effect, enjoying the sudden nervous, but rapt, attention of the whole table.
“I think it’s time you got your own planet!”
The Seeker stared at his father as the beautifully impossible words slowly made their way through his head. His own planet. His own planet. His own- Strange how tight his chest suddenly felt and why was the world fuzzy around the edges...
He woke up on the sofa, his mother by his side and the Doctor and Dad hovering behind her nervously. And somewhere behind them were Jack and Josh and Matt.
“Wha- what happened?” he asked slowly, and Mum smiled.
“You fainted darling. How long has it been since you had anything to eat?”
“I... dunno.”
“But you made waffles for everyone else - didn’t it cross your mind to have one yourself?”
“I... just wanted everyone to be happy and not fight. Again.”
The Doctor looked guilty and Dad looked concerned, but then, all in a flash, the context came back to him. Abruptly he sat up, staring at his father.
“A planet? Really?”
“Absolutely.”
Turning to the Doctor the Seeker had to forcibly stop himself from reaching out and shaking him.
“Can I? Doctor, can I? Pretty pretty pretty please can I? You know how I keep cluttering up the TARDIS and how it would so much better if I could learn hands-on rather than just with theory? Just imagine the stuff you could teach me... Please please please?”
The Doctor looked slightly stunned, and behind him Josh snorted and lifted an eyebrow.
“A planet?”
The Seeker shot him as droll a look as he could manage, but probably ended up looking pathetically excited instead. Not that he minded right now.
“Not an inhabited one, you moron. Just some out of the way lump of rock that I can do with as I please. Terraforming first of course, and then... oh the things I could do... Uncle please please please?”
“I... suppose it could prove a very educational project,” the Doctor finally conceded, and the Seeker leapt up from the sofa and hugged both Timelords as hard as he could.
“Thank you thank you thank you! I promise I’ll be extra-super-specially responsible!”
(And he could, he noted at the back of his mind, maybe do a study on Glattians, to see why they’d developed in such a suicidal fashion. It wasn’t natural. Maybe someone had been messing around with their DNA...)
A little while later he was sat at the table happily eating waffles, not quite following the conversations around him - the Doctor had suggested to Matt and Josh that maybe they could continue their summer holidays by travelling with him, and the possibilities this opened up were beginning to make a proper impact on them, Josh having decided that he wanted to see the Seven Ancient Wonders of the World, and Matt being torn between about fifty different ideas. The Seeker’s mind however was busy trying to map all the most likely solar systems to hold possible planets - not too out of the way, and yet not easy to stumble across...
“Already planning, dear?” his mother asked (she knew the faraway look in his eyes far too well) and he waved his hands in joyful frustration.
“I don’t know yet - too many possibilities.”
“You could always make a clone army...” his father said lightly, as he reached for the jam, and the Seeker tried not to roll his eyes too hard.
”And what would I need a clone army for?”
“Cloning is always interesting,” his father shot back, with that smug smile that was perfectly annoying and yet irresistible, and the Seeker had to admit that he had a point.
“Well there is that...”
”You’re not allowed to clone anything sentient!” the Doctor said authoritatively around a mouthful of waffle, and the Seeker sighed. Figured. (He tried his best to ignore the look Matt and Josh shot each other. He was moving further and further away...)
Then he bit his lip, struck by a thought.
“I guess I still have to do my A-Levels?”
The Doctor nodded slowly.
“I think so, yes. These are years that won’t ever come back, remember. But - as long as you keep up with your schoolwork, of course - I think you can certainly work on the planet on the side. The time management alone will be good for you.”
The Seeker nodded, eyes bright, and feeling that his hearts might actually burst if he tried to speak again.
Two years would be ample time to find and prime a planet, ready for habitation and the starting of projects, and then - once his friends set off for university - he’d be eighteen and independent. No more lies, no more pretending, just the freedom to be himself, and to create his own world.
Eight years childhood, eight years basic teaching, and now this - a new cycle. His future started here, rising from a night of death and painful truths... (Change was always painful, the Schism had taught him that.)
A future bright with promise, holding a burnt orange sky.
The End
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Interlude | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4
Summary: This story begins with abduction and ends with waffles. In between there's some adventuring and some heartache and a fair few truths are revealed.
Setting: 2023 (Alex is 16).
Characters: The Doctor (Tenth), the Master (Simm), Lucy, Jack, OCs (Alex, Matt, Josh)
Rating: PG-13.
Word count: 5000 words approx.
Feedback: Will be treasured beyond belief!
The Seeker couldn’t sleep.
From a linear point of view it was morning now, but he knew that his mind was far too crowded to calm down for a long, long time, so he didn’t even bother trying.
(People dead, because of him. That had never happened outside a paradox before...)
He’d finally gotten his friends settled - the two of them had barely been capable of walking straight by the end of the TARDIS tour, but there had still been endless questions that the Seeker had done his best to answer. Mostly from Matt, though... Josh had taken it all in, but he’d generally kept his queries focussed on technical questions about time travel, or how the TARDIS structure reflected Gallifreyan architecture, until finally he asked the question that had obviously been bothering him all along.
“Alex... Just how... how many races has your uncle killed?”
The Seeker had stopped, doing his best to look Josh straight in the eye, and trying very hard not think about strangling his father for bringing up that particular subject.
“Many. Including his own.”
For a moment his friends had just stood there, disbelieving, and the Seeker had continued, praying that the chasm wasn’t unbridgeable.
“He’s not even my real uncle. He just happens to be the only other member of my species still in existence, apart from my father.”
“How-” Josh’s words seemed stuck in his throat, and the Seeker had sighed.
“I told you there was a war. The last Great Time War, with the fate of the universe itself in the balance. Imagine... imagine that the Second World War had gone very differently, and Churchill had discovered that the only way to win would be to destroy England. And then he, himself, somehow survived, having to live with the choice he made. That’s the Doctor.”
Before Josh had a chance to reply, he’d held up a hand.
“Can we leave it at that for now? Please? If you want to hate someone, hate my Dad. He deserves it.”
Josh had nodded then, eyes thoughtful, and the Seeker had decided that finding bedrooms was probably a good idea. He needed peace and quiet to process everything...
(He’d known how it would end, had foreseen perfectly how everyone would react, and yet - and yet his father’s murder was weighing on him in ways he hadn’t imagined.)
Getting uncle and Dad to come to bed had been trickier, but he’d pointed out that it was nearing morning and the Torchwood staff would appear soon and with a bit of cajoling and a fair bit of leaning had managed to get them to agree to some sleep. ‘Getting his own way’ being more a question of necessity than of want, for once.
So, what next?
Jack.
Sticking his head out of the TARDIS door, he saw Jack busy with something-or-other, and called out that he was going to take the TARDIS home to his mother’s, and would be making some breakfast in not too long if Jack wanted some?
Jack made a noncommittal noise, and the Seeker said “Please, Jack?” and then Jack nodded.
The Seeker would probably have been ashamed of his blatant manipulation if he hadn’t been so set on his goal. All he wanted was everyone getting together for breakfast, for them to be civil and not yelling at each other. They owed him that much at least.
However, breakfast was still a good way off on his itinerary. Closing the door he - making sure to set the TARDIS engines to ‘silent’ - with great care took the time machine out to the vortex, and parked. Time out, literally, was what he needed right now.
Making his way down to his own set of rooms, thoughts kept crowding his mind, and he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with them. Because if he took his mind off the dead (the surgeon had been brilliant, killing was always such a waste. Plus, now he'd never find out where the Rachnoss had come from. Stupid, homicidal Dad!), other things intruded...
He’d been so angry.
Never had he lost his temperament like that - well not since he was six, and he’d thought that rage gone, along with other so many other childish remnants. Just one more thing taken by the Schism, and one he had been grateful to lose. Except not... It had only laid dormant, and he had in that moment been ready to unleash fury he’d not thought himself capable of.
Damn Dad for seeing it. And doubly damn Dad for making him own up to it.
(“...tell me one thing. And be honest. Did you want to kill them?”)
Maybe, he thought to himself, maybe this was why the Doctor never carried weapons. It was far too easy to overreact, and then there was no way back...
At least he knew now. And forewarned was forearmed.
'I really am just like Spock', he thought wryly. 'I wonder, if I’d grown up on Gallifrey, if I’d have gotten into lots of fights...' Shaking his head, he couldn’t help chuckling to himself. He was the Master’s son, he’d have been even more notorious than he was here on Earth.
He’d reached his lab, and began looking through drawers and boxes to find the materials he needed. It was ridiculous - especially considering that he was in a dimensionally transcendent time machine - but he was forever cramped in here, even as the TARDIS kept giving him more space...
But never mind. For now there was work. Blissful, complicated work, that would hopefully help quell the voices in his head, and the still far too tender emotions.
(“Lord Seeker...”)
Lord. No one had ever done that before, addressed him with the proper honorific, like an adult, like an equal... He tasted the words a few times, let them settle in his mind, feeling the weight, the shape, the feel - Lord Seeker.
Even as he couldn’t stop the well of undiluted pleasure that the words inspired, he began wondering how his father known that respect was the one thing he had craved more than anything else? Was he truly his father’s son to such an extent?
Sighing, he forced himself to focus.
Stop thinking. Work. Take what you’ve discovered, project it forward, learn from it, use it. Don’t be caught out again.
A long time later, he was rewarded for his hard work with a most beautiful and clever piece of technology. It would have been quicker if he’d had a screwdriver, but never mind. Slow and steady suited him just fine right now - especially since he’d been working from theoretical knowledge only.
Clutching his prize in the palm of his hand he hastened back to the control room and with utmost care piloted the TARDIS to his mother’s house, a few hours before sunrise.
Stepping out into the darkened garden he realised, with a moment’s despair, that he’d parked in the middle of his mother’s favourite flower bed. But since there was nothing he could do about it at the moment, he dismissed it from his mind.
Then, hearts beating, he programmed his little device, and - a fraction of a second later - stood in the middle of his own bedroom. Smiling triumphantly, he immediately made for his box of ‘heirlooms’ and extracted a pendant that had once belonged to his maternal grandmother. He’d always liked it, on account of the ornate ‘S’ that was engraved on the front (his grandmother’s name had been Susan), since the ‘S’ could equally well go with either Saxon or Seeker. Opening it, he looked at the miniature photos where his grandparents, the Lord and Lady Cole, smiled stiffly at him. He was looking forward to meeting them one day, although it’d be a while still - he’d have to wait until he had a different face.
Focussing once more on the task before him, he carefully examined the structure of the locket, and then smiled triumphantly. Oh it would work! Presuming he didn’t completely screw up of course.
He almost went straight back to the TARDIS, but catching sight of himself in the mirror decided that getting dressed might be a good idea. T-shirt, jeans, sandals - yeah, that would do. Tossing the pyjamas into the washing basket, he tried his best to suppress the memories of where they’d been.
Teleporting back to the garden he once more took the TARDIS into the vortex, unsure how long this next part would take. The teleporter wasn’t that much bigger than the locket, but it’d still be tricky to make the locket dimensionally transcendental... But if the Doctor could do it with his pockets, then it had to be possible.
First of all he needed to make a gap between one of the photos and the back of the locket, which was fiddly, but straightforward. The tricky part came next. After carefully re-reading the relevant parts of the TARDIS database he set forth, with a great deal of frustrating trial and error, before he suddenly managed to add about an inch of depth.
Staring dumbfounded at what he’d done, a swell of pure joy rushed through him, and, with hands that were only trembling a tiny bit, he with great care inserted the teleport, making sure to seal it in very thoroughly. Then he folded his grandfather’s oval photo back to cover the controls (a small magnet to keep it in place maybe?) then closed the locket and surveyed it proudly.
A few moments swift search yielded a strong chain, and he then slipped it over his head, feeling the gentle weight settle on his chest over his rapidly beating hearts. He’d done it. He’d truly done it, and all by himself! Why did people spend so much time fighting when they could learn and create instead? It was bewildering.
After taking a moment to bask in his accomplishment, he told himself to get back to business. What next?
Going through the itinerary in his head he hit on ‘camping stuff’ and carefully navigated to the little Welsh valley where their bright orangey yellow tent still stood, taking care to hit sunrise so he could actually see what he was doing. It took him a while to take down the tent and pack everything up, but finally he could dump it all inside the TARDIS door (someone else could tidy up later), and then set off back home again - once more hitting that same spot in the middle of the flower bed. Studying the scene in the light of the morning sun, he began to let the situation sink in:
Mum was going to kill him.
Well, once she woke up.
Letting himself in through the patio doors, he looked through the fridge and cabinets which were under-stocked for his purposes, then - checking the clock on the wall - happily noted that the corner shop would already be open and set off to purchase enough provisions to feed a small army. He’d hopefully have time to make waffles before Mum noticed what he’d done to her roses...
It was a beautiful summer morning, and walking along he waved to a few neighbours who were setting off for work. The calm, quiet normality of it all was balm to his still restless mind - he knew what part to play here, knew who they saw and what he was. The Doctor always revelled in the ordinary-ness of human life, but the Seeker knew that the key lay in not thinking about it; to just be. Except last night his two worlds had collided and he’d yet to regain his equilibrium...
(No one would ever know about the night’s slaughter. He wondered when the Glattians’ families would find out that their loved ones were dead...)
The girl in the shop asked whether he’d had to come home early from his camping trip and by the way, how was that friend of his doing - Josh was it?
Going back home - mindful of the eggs in his shopping bag - the Seeker mused how curiously focussed on sex humans were. No wonder they managed to last until the end of time, considering their preoccupation with procreation. Although the way humans were ruled by their bodies was one of the things he knew he’d never quite understand - and, if he was honest, something he didn’t want to understand. It was bad enough that his emotions had overriden his mind (something he never wanted to experience again), the idea of his body doing the same was truly the stuff of nightmares.
(Control, anticipation and self-knowledge were the key words. Be self-aware enough to know when you might be emotionally compromised...)
Once more in the kitchen he began making waffle batter and put the kettle on, and after a while - as if called by the magic of waffles - Josh and Matt appeared from the TARDIS, looking a bit unsure as they made their way through the garden, but having obviously made use of the TARDIS wardrobe. Matt had found a T-shirt and some cargo trousers, and Josh looked even more stunning than usual in a gold brocade shirt and a pair of jeans that looked too tight to be in any way comfortable.
The Seeker opened the door wide.
“Come in! Breakfast is nearly served.”
His mother appeared at that moment, giving him a happy hug and a kiss, unsurprised to see him suddenly home. She knew how their life could take unexpected turns.
As the Seeker began setting out plates, Josh slowly shook his head, and the Seeker realised that - gold brocade or not - it would take a long time to mend last night’s damage.
“So,” Josh said, studying him, eyes unsure, “is this it? Last night we get abducted, and now we have waffles? Is that how it works?”
The Seeker looked back.
“Yes, that’s how it works. Waffles are nice.”
Before he could try to explain further, he heard his mother’s exclamation, and belatedly realised that he’d not filled her in on the night’s... happenings.
“You were abducted?” she asked, eyes wide, and the Seeker tried to project as much calm as he was capable of.
“Yes, but we are fine, look at us. The Doctor and Dad and Jack came and saved us and nothing bad happened to us at all. The only thing that’s different is that now Matt and Josh know about me.”
Just then - as if on cue - Jack materialised, and the Seeker smiled. Someone to back his story up.
Turning to his mother he saw her brow draw together, and swiftly added:
“It wasn’t anyone’s fault - especially not Jack’s. It was just a bunch of Glattians, they’re very curious and they’d abducted lots of different people from different worlds.”
His mother stood very still for a moment, then said “Very well dear,” in a tone of voice that meant she was only saving the argument for later. Which was probably good, all things considered.
Matt, never one to waste an opportunity, was taking to the waffles with alacrity, but Josh still looked unconvinced, even as Jack sat down and helped himself.
“Listen,” the Seeker tried again, catching Josh’s eyes, “brooding doesn’t help, OK? Oh, actually-” he felt in his pocket for the slip of paper he’d tucked in earlier, “if you need something more than waffles, the girl in the shop gave me her number to give to you. I’m sure you remember her? Dimples, black hair? She’s off to uni at the end of the holidays, but her boyfriend broke up with her and she wouldn’t mind some TLC...”
He held out the paper, and after a moment Josh took it from his hands, eyes still serious, but now holding a spark of understanding.
“Thank you,” he said, and the Seeker tried smiling.
“Nothing we can do can bring those that died back to life. But waffles are nice. Waffles are good. Waffles will always be good, no matter what.”
It was then that his mother noticed the TARDIS.
Her hand flew to her moth in mute horror, then she turned to him, eyes full of disappointment and hurt.
“Alexander! My roses!”
He busied himself with getting hot waffles onto plates.
“It was an accident. I’ll get you new ones! Special ones, from the Hanging Gardens of Babylon-”
“No,” she cut in. “Those were special. Mother planted them when I was born - they’re irreplaceable!”
“I’m sorry...”
She slowly shook her head, eyes narrowing.
“No Alexander. Being sorry isn’t good enough. You need to take responsibility for your actions - fix it.”
A second later he worked out what she meant, and sighed deeply.
“Jack. Wrist strap please.”
Jack opened his mouth, shut it again, and then handed the wrist strap over. Sighing deeply, the Seeker trudged out the door, grabbing the shed keys in the process - although if he was honest, there was a certain relief in being able to fix something.
Carefully programming the vortex manipulator to take him back to 2am he found himself in the dead of night, as silently as possible unlocking the shed and retrieving a spade and some large flowerpots.
Digging up the rose bushes - now and again glancing up at the darkened windows - he contemplated what his mother would say when she found out what exactly had happened last night (well this night)... not a comforting thought. He knew that more than anything she would be appalled at his behaviour - one did not yell at people, nor did one insult them with cheap and tacky remarks. He was better than that, and he had most certainly been brought up better than that. Plus she would ask him why on earth he had not immediately revealed who he was and ordered the Glattians to return him...
The outcome would of course have been the same in the end, but he’d not have compromised his dignity. And rudeness, in his mother’s world, was near unforgivable.
Having dug up and transferred the roses in question, he carefully carried them down to the bottom of the garden where no one would be able to spy them. Then he locked up the shed again, before returning to the morning, leaving just a few seconds’ break.
“They’re at the bottom of the garden,” he said to his mum when he came back in, and she smiled.
“Thank you.”
He handed the wrist strap back, and then noticed Dad and Uncle stepping out of the TARDIS. Dad, smiling widely, exclaimed “Waffles!” with great joy as he walked through the patio doors, but the Doctor still looked a bit under the weather.
However, before the Doctor could even say ‘Goodmorning’, Mum stepped forward and slapped him so hard that he nearly lost his footing.
Staring at her, hurt and confused, he naturally asked, “What was that for?” bringing up a hand to his hurting cheek.
“Alexander was abducted,” she replied coldly.
His eyebrows went skyward.
“And that is my fault?”
“Everything is your fault,” she said bluntly, and the Seeker felt like banging his head against the wall. Mum was on the warpath and now everyone would fight again...
“You didn’t even tell me! And now those aliens are out there, knowing about him and we will never be safe! Not that we were before...”
The Doctor opened his mouth, but - as always with Mum - found that he didn’t really have anywhere to attack.
“Hey, shhhh,” Dad said, a gentle smile on his face as he pulled Mum into his arms, “Didn’t they tell you? I killed them.”
She lifted her head, blinking away the tears she’d been fighting, her face lighting up.
“Really?”
“Of course, my darling.”
The Seeker looked away and saw that the Doctor’s face was once more that hurt, angry mask, and then his eyes moved onto his friends who were watching, clearly not sure how to react. Stepping forward with more waffles, he tried to affect nonchalance.
“Remember what I told you? Evil parents.”
Matt nodded, but Josh didn’t seem that keen on accepting the weirdness. Damn. Although on the plus side it might help him focus on Dad as the one to hate...
“OK, can everyone sit down and eat please?” he said loudly, pouring tea into cups and thinking that he should probably boil another kettle.
“But I’ve not properly greeted your little human friends,” Dad said, walking round the table holding out his hand, that polite smile on his face that always came across as courteous disdain.
“It’s Matt and Josh, isn’t it? You may call me Mr Saxon or Master as you please.”
Matt took his hand as if in a daze, but Josh - going pale, but looking determined - shook his head and folded his arms.
Eyes narrowing, Dad tilted his head.
“Oh, you’re Jack’s little project, aren’t you?”
He turned to Jack, brightly insincere.
“You must be so proud!”
“Dad!” the Seeker said, exasperated. “Please will you just sit down. And stop it.”
Dad pulled his best ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’ face, but the Seeker just scowled and pointed at a chair.
Why was it always him who had to make everyone behave?
‘Because I am the only one they all care about’, his mind filled in. How he longed to just get away... Somewhere - anywhere - a place of his own. Which wouldn’t happen for about a century at least, the way everyone was so desperate to protect him.)
At least they all ate their breakfast as they’d been told to, and the Seeker remembered that he needed to make more tea. But as he turned the kettle on, he heard his mother speak, and glanced over his shoulder, hearts sinking.
“And next time Doctor? What then?”
The Doctor, tea cup halfway to his mouth, faltered, and Dad smiled smugly.
“Anyone harms the boy, they die. Those are the rules now.”
“I should come with a warning - danger of death, do not touch,” the Seeker said to the teapot, trying not to sound too bitter, and he could feel both Jack and the Doctor freezing.
“Seeker,” the Doctor said softly, “it wasn’t your fault.”
Setting the teapot down on the worktop, he carefully turned.
“I know that. Please just eat.”
“If you ever need to talk,” Jack began and the Seeker, frustrated, tried counting to ten, and then took in the whole table with an angry sweep of his eyes.
“I don’t need to talk about what happened, OK? The facts are these: The Glattians are one-track-minded magpies, and Dad is an overprotective psychopath. Add those two up, with me in the middle, and the only possible outcome is that the Glattians die. I saw that from the first moment we woke up on that ship. It’s like... 2 plus 2 always makes 4. The only way of dealing with it is to remove me from the equation - which I can now do, no matter the situation!”
Pulling the pendant out from under his T-shirt, he held it up.
“I made myself a teleport.”
“Mother’s locket,” Mum said, surprised, and the Seeker pulled the chain over his head and let it dangle from his fingers.
“Here, have a look.”
The Doctor reacted first, jumping up and snatching it out of his hands, and mere moments later was studying the modified insides.
“How- when-”
”While you were sleeping,” he smiled, and the Doctor shot him a look that was a thinly disguised warning. Then his father leaned over, raising appreciative eyebrows, and the Seeker tried not to preen too much.
“Works perfectly by the way,” he said, and the Doctor’s head snapped up.
“You tried it?”
“Well of course I tried it. How else would I test that it worked? Although I fixed Jack’s vortex manipulator three years ago, so it’s not like I didn’t know what I was doing...”
(He ought to be ashamed of how easy lying came to him, but there were some things he was not ready to confess - the role his father’s screwdriver had played in fixing Jack’s wrist strap at the top of the list.)
“Yeah - we’ll have to have a talk about that,” Uncle said ominously, but the Seeker wasn’t too worried. Jack would be able to reel off a long list of times when a working teleport had saved the day, and he had done all the theoretical work.
“No wonder you think school is boring,” Matt said quietly, and the Seeker shrugged.
“Pretty much any school would be. And after I’ve done my A-Levels I’ll be free to go do something of my own...”
A wistful note snuck into his voice, but he couldn’t help it. But at his words, his father suddenly looked up.
“Ah yes, that reminds me. You know I promised you something special, something magnificent as a reward for last night?”
The Seeker nodded cautiously, unsure where his father was going with this.
“Well son, after some consideration I came to a decision.” He paused for effect, enjoying the sudden nervous, but rapt, attention of the whole table.
“I think it’s time you got your own planet!”
The Seeker stared at his father as the beautifully impossible words slowly made their way through his head. His own planet. His own planet. His own- Strange how tight his chest suddenly felt and why was the world fuzzy around the edges...
He woke up on the sofa, his mother by his side and the Doctor and Dad hovering behind her nervously. And somewhere behind them were Jack and Josh and Matt.
“Wha- what happened?” he asked slowly, and Mum smiled.
“You fainted darling. How long has it been since you had anything to eat?”
“I... dunno.”
“But you made waffles for everyone else - didn’t it cross your mind to have one yourself?”
“I... just wanted everyone to be happy and not fight. Again.”
The Doctor looked guilty and Dad looked concerned, but then, all in a flash, the context came back to him. Abruptly he sat up, staring at his father.
“A planet? Really?”
“Absolutely.”
Turning to the Doctor the Seeker had to forcibly stop himself from reaching out and shaking him.
“Can I? Doctor, can I? Pretty pretty pretty please can I? You know how I keep cluttering up the TARDIS and how it would so much better if I could learn hands-on rather than just with theory? Just imagine the stuff you could teach me... Please please please?”
The Doctor looked slightly stunned, and behind him Josh snorted and lifted an eyebrow.
“A planet?”
The Seeker shot him as droll a look as he could manage, but probably ended up looking pathetically excited instead. Not that he minded right now.
“Not an inhabited one, you moron. Just some out of the way lump of rock that I can do with as I please. Terraforming first of course, and then... oh the things I could do... Uncle please please please?”
“I... suppose it could prove a very educational project,” the Doctor finally conceded, and the Seeker leapt up from the sofa and hugged both Timelords as hard as he could.
“Thank you thank you thank you! I promise I’ll be extra-super-specially responsible!”
(And he could, he noted at the back of his mind, maybe do a study on Glattians, to see why they’d developed in such a suicidal fashion. It wasn’t natural. Maybe someone had been messing around with their DNA...)
A little while later he was sat at the table happily eating waffles, not quite following the conversations around him - the Doctor had suggested to Matt and Josh that maybe they could continue their summer holidays by travelling with him, and the possibilities this opened up were beginning to make a proper impact on them, Josh having decided that he wanted to see the Seven Ancient Wonders of the World, and Matt being torn between about fifty different ideas. The Seeker’s mind however was busy trying to map all the most likely solar systems to hold possible planets - not too out of the way, and yet not easy to stumble across...
“Already planning, dear?” his mother asked (she knew the faraway look in his eyes far too well) and he waved his hands in joyful frustration.
“I don’t know yet - too many possibilities.”
“You could always make a clone army...” his father said lightly, as he reached for the jam, and the Seeker tried not to roll his eyes too hard.
”And what would I need a clone army for?”
“Cloning is always interesting,” his father shot back, with that smug smile that was perfectly annoying and yet irresistible, and the Seeker had to admit that he had a point.
“Well there is that...”
”You’re not allowed to clone anything sentient!” the Doctor said authoritatively around a mouthful of waffle, and the Seeker sighed. Figured. (He tried his best to ignore the look Matt and Josh shot each other. He was moving further and further away...)
Then he bit his lip, struck by a thought.
“I guess I still have to do my A-Levels?”
The Doctor nodded slowly.
“I think so, yes. These are years that won’t ever come back, remember. But - as long as you keep up with your schoolwork, of course - I think you can certainly work on the planet on the side. The time management alone will be good for you.”
The Seeker nodded, eyes bright, and feeling that his hearts might actually burst if he tried to speak again.
Two years would be ample time to find and prime a planet, ready for habitation and the starting of projects, and then - once his friends set off for university - he’d be eighteen and independent. No more lies, no more pretending, just the freedom to be himself, and to create his own world.
Eight years childhood, eight years basic teaching, and now this - a new cycle. His future started here, rising from a night of death and painful truths... (Change was always painful, the Schism had taught him that.)
A future bright with promise, holding a burnt orange sky.