fic_of_fork (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fic_of_fork) wrote2009-05-04 04:39 pm
fic_of_fork) wrote2009-05-04 04:39 pm
Entry tags:
Spiegel im Spiegel, Chapter 13/14
Word Count: 2256
Summary: Like a mirror reflected into a mirror, choices made create an infinite of possibilities, and images seen may not be what they appear. An encounter with an elusive, incorporeal race leads the Doctor and his allies on a dark journey.
Warnings: Spoilers for Season 8 of the Bernice Summerfield audios
Rating: Teen
Characters: Ten, Donna, Braxiatel, Torchwood, Original characters (Mike)
Genre: AU, Adventure
Author's Note: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mtemplar_fic for the beta and advice on technical bits. Thanks to persiflage_1 for looking up information on hospital bed sizes.
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, Torchwood, or any of its characters, and I'm receiving no profit from this beyond the joy of writing.
Chapter 12, Chapter 11, Chapter 10, Chapter 9, Chapter 8, Chapter 7, Chapter 6, Chapter 5, Chapter 4, Chapter 3, Chapter 2, Chapter 1
Mike carried three paper cups of tea back to the waiting room where the Doctor, Donna, and Jack were. As he walked, part of his mind wondered why it was that hospitals were the same everywhere--from tacky plants and decor designed to look as "homey" as possible to the selection of magazines. The other part of his brain wondered how it was that the hospital staff knew he was a priest, when he wasn't wearing clericals. He had been waiting with the others while Braxiatel was in surgery, but somehow they knew to ask him if he wouldn't mind administering last rites to a patient, since their own chaplains were busy. Then it dawned on him that it must've been the Doctor. Snapping into his role did help him a bit.
Mike stopped before the door to the small room where they waited. Anger began to rise in him as he inwardly prayed: "You asshole! Is this how you repay someone, who's dedicated his life to doing good? You take away his brother? Every time Brax does something noble, You kick him in the balls for it. Just knock it off." Mike took a deep breath to collect himself, then entered.
"Any news?" he asked.
"None yet," Jack responded.
Mike passed out the tea and found himself making polite small talk, as he would, if they were any other family waiting for news of a severely injured loved one. Having been in this situation thousands of times before, he could tell that Donna was barely holding together, and the Doctor--who lapsed into the facade of effortless calm he'd seen so often in other Time Lords--wasn't much better.
Finally, there was a short knock at the door, and Martha entered, hiding her fatigue behind her white coat, as Mike hid his anger. In the seconds Martha took to sit on the chair Jack offered, Mike saw himself, as he had delivered such news to countless families on different worlds. His anger faded as he silently prayed, "Thy will be done."
"His prognosis wasn't good," Martha began. "Brax was in rough shape by the time your physicians got to him, and we nearly lost him in surgery. Even with the accelerated healing abilities Time Lords possess, it's going to be several weeks before he recovers fully."
Donna was crying. "What do you mean? Is he going to live?"
"Yes," Martha said, smiling. "He's in recovery now, and they'll be moving him to a room soon. He'll have to be in hospital for a few more days, at least."
"Thank you," Mike inwardly prayed.
There was another knock as one of the doctors sent by the Time Lords entered. She awkwardly observed the huddle of hugging involving the Doctor, Donna, Jack, Mike, and Martha. Clearing her throat, she addressed them. "Cardinal Braxiatel is awake and resting in a private room. As I understand it, Torchwood is providing the necessary security, in case some hospital staff get curious about the differences in his anatomy."
"Thank you," the Doctor managed to say, as he held back his own tears.
"After all he has done for us, it was the least we could do."
***
The Doctor found Donna outside of the hospital, sitting on a bench. He wandered over to her and sat beside her for a few moments. Something cracked open in both of them, and they sat holding each other.
"He's asking for you," the Doctor said quietly.
"I didn't want to fall in love," Donna sobbed. "I mean, it's complicated. He's an alien, I'm human. He's the brother of my best friend. Ada spoke like he was going to be reassigned into diplomatic service. I can't imagine having a human girlfriend is good for his career. And then he manipulated me, used me into thinking that metacrisis was back. Oh God, what if he's got tentacles down there?"
"Tentacles?" the Doctor scoffed. "The other me didn't have tentacles."
"Yeah, but he was half-human," Donna asserted.
The Doctor was silent for a moment, then turned to face Donna on the bench, drawing his legs up, so he was sitting cross-legged facing her. "See, you and Brax, you don't think you're special. You two think that there's absolutely nothing either of you could contribute to the universe."
"But--" Donna interrupted.
"No, let me finish. Why do you think he hid behind that Collection of his? Why do you take temp job after temp job, when you could be doing so much more? You yell at the universe, while Brax lectures at it. He boxes himself off in overconfidence like you do by shouting."
The Doctor grinned at Donna. "When we were all trapped at Torchwood I noticed something. For the first time in each of your lives, around each other, you two believed you were special. That kind of change in a person doesn't happen without a kind of love that's rare. And I'll be damned if I let two people I love throw away a chance for happiness."
"He tricked me!" Donna said through tears. "He tricked you, too."
"Honestly, now," the Doctor said. "What would you have done, in his situation?"
Donna was silent a moment. "I'd make sure those I care about were safe, then do what must be done."
The Doctor shoved Braxiatel's little leather notebook at her, the one she had last seen him writing in on Gallifrey. "Hurry up and read it before he realizes I nicked it."
Donna took the notebook from him and opened it. Inside was page after page of the circular sprawl of Gallifreyan writing. At first it made no sense to her, but quietly the shapes rearranged themselves in her mind into words and ideas. Flipping back to the first page, she began to read. At first she was horrified, even repulsed, by the things she read. But then she remembered the look on the Doctor's face, shadowed by fire and water, as the offspring of the Racnosss died. She also remembered how it had wounded him.
The only reason why she didn't shove the notebook back at the Doctor was the other set of inscriptions, carefully notated next to the first. They detailed what steps Braxiatel had taken to undo what he had done. In some cases, especially when things were erased from the time lines, some direct reparation couldn't have been made.
For instance, she read about how he--under Pandora's influence--had erased the children of Jason Kane and Bernice Summerfield. It was impossible to bring them back, but two other children--ones who would've died in a refugee camp on the edge of the Plediad System--found themselves in a loving home, the horrors of their previous existence wiped from the Web of Time. She read about time spent in places caring for the dying, and while Braxiatel couldn't have brought back Jason Kane to life, she read about how another person was now alive, who should've died--the man was talked back from the edge of suicide by a strange visitor. The very last page of the book was a single word, Donna's name.
"Pen," Donna said to the Doctor, holding out her hand. After she had lapsed into silence while reading, her word was like a gunshot or a crack of thunder.
The Doctor dutifully handed over a pen, and watched Donna furiously writing on the last page of the book. Peeking over the cover, the Doctor blushed at some of the things he read.
Donna sensed the Doctor's discomfort. Without looking up, she said, "Then don't snoop, Martian Boy." Finally, she stopped writing and returned the Doctor's pen. "Come on. Brax is going to be here for a few days. Let's go get the things he's going to need."
***
The Doctor and Donna walked back across the parking lot, where Braxiatel's TARDIS had materialized, sent back with the physicians. Between the two of them, it was a short task to pack an overnight bag of toiletries, clothes, and other things Braxiatel would need for his stay. Both wondered just where Braxiatel had obtained the boxers in embarrassingly loud and clashing prints. Of course, those happened to be the only underwear that Donna and the Doctor had packed. Giggling at their prank, they passed near the Torchwood SUV. Into the back of it Gwen and Jack were loading large biohazard bags.
Jack straightened up and stretched his back as he saw them. Both he and Gwen looked to be barely able to stand because of their exhaustion. "One person bleeding sure makes a lot of waste," Jack said. "Can't leave any of it behind, though. All you have to do is sneeze, comb your hair, shave, or take a crap, and you've left DNA behind. No need to make it any easier for the alien conspiracy theory nuts out there."
Gwen wiped her forehead and said, "I'll see if Martha has the lines used from the transfusion."
"Good thinking," Jack responded. "How's Brax?"
"Better than the last time I saw him," the Doctor responded. "I'll be sticking around for a few days, at least. If nothing else, there's still the business with the Mindwights to help you clean up after. Kind of my mess."
"The what?" Gwen asked.
"Mindwights? Zombies in Cardiff sucking people's brains?" the Doctor prompted.
"Maybe you should get some rest," Jack said. "You aren't making a whole lot of sense."
"Mindwight? Never heard of them," Gwen said, shaking her head as if to clear her own fatigue.
"Come on, Jack, you must've heard about the Mindwights before now." But as the Doctor spoke, a cold realization began to dawn on him.
"No," Jack said, thinking for a moment. "Just Brax getting mugged and stabbed. That was excitement enough. The folks back home said they'd take care of the mess left in the alley."
The Doctor and Donna exchanged nervous glances and continued on to the hospital. "Donna," the Doctor began, "do you remember what happened?"
For a moment, Donna looked as weary as the rest did. "Of course, Spaceman. Mindwights, zombies, getting sucked into the Time Vortex. I am a bit dehydrated, though. Killer headache from it. Why do you ask?"
They passed Ianto carrying more bags of medical waste. "It would seem that the Mindwights have been erased from history," the Doctor said.
"The temporal wossname?" Donna asked. "Because I was around either you or Brax when it happened?"
"So it would seem," the Doctor said.
"Remind me not to get on your people's bad side," Donna responded.
"I'd be more worried about what happens to them, if they cross you," the Doctor muttered.
"'Scuze me?"
"Nothing..."
***
For a long time, Mickey sat in the chair next to the hospital bed in which Braxiatel was sleeping, saying nothing. Finally, as his own fatigue began to take hold, he began to speak.
"Yeah, back there? I said some things I'm not proud of. I didn't know you were bluffing, see. I guess I'm saying I'm sorry for the things I said." Mickey lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Awkwardly, he put a business card face-down on the table next to the bed. "I'm leaving my card. If you need anything, call, okay? The food here's pretty disgusting." As he turned to leave, he held the door open for Donna, who was just about to open the door.
Donna approached the hospital bed in the dim room. She remembered seeing her father in a bed similar to this during his last illness, but even then she wasn't expecting to see how frail Braxiatel looked. Like the Doctor, he usually radiated a larger-than-life presence, and underneath hid a raw power. Now, dozing, Braxiatel looked mortal. She reached out and caressed his cheek with the back of her fingertips, feeling relief that he had some color. A little smile spread over his face, before opened his eyes.
"You were awake the whole time when Mickey was in here?" she asked.
"Letting him save face," Braxiatel explained.
"You ever trick me like that again with the Mindwights and I'll finish you off myself," Donna said.
Braxiatel turned his head away from her, but said nothing. Donna crossed to the other side of the bed, and before he could look away again, she gently kissed him. A second or two after she pulled away, his little half-smile returned.
"Am I forgiven?" he asked.
Donna held the water bottle and straw so he could take a sip. "Thank you," she said awkwardly. "For saving my life, that is."
"The universe would've been a poorer place without you in it," Braxiatel said.
"Was thinking the same thing about you," Donna replied.
With a grunt and wincing slightly, Braxiatel eased over to make room. "Tell me a story?" he asked.
Donna was taken aback. "I already told you about the Oodsphere--"
"No, not those. Of temping, football games, and such."
"You're kidding, right?" Donna asked. Braxiatel patted the empty space next to him. "Don't think they'll approve," Donna said as she eyed the door. Giving in, she lowered the bed rail on that side. She laid down next to him on the edge of the bed and began to recount all the things she thought nobody else in the universe would be remotely interested in: which assignment had the best coffee, inter-office squabbles and politics, and conversations at the pub after work.
A few minutes later, when the Doctor peeked in, both were soundly sleeping, with Donna faintly snoring. She lay with her body protectively curled around Braxiatel's.
Summary: Like a mirror reflected into a mirror, choices made create an infinite of possibilities, and images seen may not be what they appear. An encounter with an elusive, incorporeal race leads the Doctor and his allies on a dark journey.
Warnings: Spoilers for Season 8 of the Bernice Summerfield audios
Rating: Teen
Characters: Ten, Donna, Braxiatel, Torchwood, Original characters (Mike)
Genre: AU, Adventure
Author's Note: Thanks to
mtemplar_fic for the beta and advice on technical bits. Thanks to persiflage_1 for looking up information on hospital bed sizes.Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, Torchwood, or any of its characters, and I'm receiving no profit from this beyond the joy of writing.
Chapter 12, Chapter 11, Chapter 10, Chapter 9, Chapter 8, Chapter 7, Chapter 6, Chapter 5, Chapter 4, Chapter 3, Chapter 2, Chapter 1
Mike carried three paper cups of tea back to the waiting room where the Doctor, Donna, and Jack were. As he walked, part of his mind wondered why it was that hospitals were the same everywhere--from tacky plants and decor designed to look as "homey" as possible to the selection of magazines. The other part of his brain wondered how it was that the hospital staff knew he was a priest, when he wasn't wearing clericals. He had been waiting with the others while Braxiatel was in surgery, but somehow they knew to ask him if he wouldn't mind administering last rites to a patient, since their own chaplains were busy. Then it dawned on him that it must've been the Doctor. Snapping into his role did help him a bit.
Mike stopped before the door to the small room where they waited. Anger began to rise in him as he inwardly prayed: "You asshole! Is this how you repay someone, who's dedicated his life to doing good? You take away his brother? Every time Brax does something noble, You kick him in the balls for it. Just knock it off." Mike took a deep breath to collect himself, then entered.
"Any news?" he asked.
"None yet," Jack responded.
Mike passed out the tea and found himself making polite small talk, as he would, if they were any other family waiting for news of a severely injured loved one. Having been in this situation thousands of times before, he could tell that Donna was barely holding together, and the Doctor--who lapsed into the facade of effortless calm he'd seen so often in other Time Lords--wasn't much better.
Finally, there was a short knock at the door, and Martha entered, hiding her fatigue behind her white coat, as Mike hid his anger. In the seconds Martha took to sit on the chair Jack offered, Mike saw himself, as he had delivered such news to countless families on different worlds. His anger faded as he silently prayed, "Thy will be done."
"His prognosis wasn't good," Martha began. "Brax was in rough shape by the time your physicians got to him, and we nearly lost him in surgery. Even with the accelerated healing abilities Time Lords possess, it's going to be several weeks before he recovers fully."
Donna was crying. "What do you mean? Is he going to live?"
"Yes," Martha said, smiling. "He's in recovery now, and they'll be moving him to a room soon. He'll have to be in hospital for a few more days, at least."
"Thank you," Mike inwardly prayed.
There was another knock as one of the doctors sent by the Time Lords entered. She awkwardly observed the huddle of hugging involving the Doctor, Donna, Jack, Mike, and Martha. Clearing her throat, she addressed them. "Cardinal Braxiatel is awake and resting in a private room. As I understand it, Torchwood is providing the necessary security, in case some hospital staff get curious about the differences in his anatomy."
"Thank you," the Doctor managed to say, as he held back his own tears.
"After all he has done for us, it was the least we could do."
The Doctor found Donna outside of the hospital, sitting on a bench. He wandered over to her and sat beside her for a few moments. Something cracked open in both of them, and they sat holding each other.
"He's asking for you," the Doctor said quietly.
"I didn't want to fall in love," Donna sobbed. "I mean, it's complicated. He's an alien, I'm human. He's the brother of my best friend. Ada spoke like he was going to be reassigned into diplomatic service. I can't imagine having a human girlfriend is good for his career. And then he manipulated me, used me into thinking that metacrisis was back. Oh God, what if he's got tentacles down there?"
"Tentacles?" the Doctor scoffed. "The other me didn't have tentacles."
"Yeah, but he was half-human," Donna asserted.
The Doctor was silent for a moment, then turned to face Donna on the bench, drawing his legs up, so he was sitting cross-legged facing her. "See, you and Brax, you don't think you're special. You two think that there's absolutely nothing either of you could contribute to the universe."
"But--" Donna interrupted.
"No, let me finish. Why do you think he hid behind that Collection of his? Why do you take temp job after temp job, when you could be doing so much more? You yell at the universe, while Brax lectures at it. He boxes himself off in overconfidence like you do by shouting."
The Doctor grinned at Donna. "When we were all trapped at Torchwood I noticed something. For the first time in each of your lives, around each other, you two believed you were special. That kind of change in a person doesn't happen without a kind of love that's rare. And I'll be damned if I let two people I love throw away a chance for happiness."
"He tricked me!" Donna said through tears. "He tricked you, too."
"Honestly, now," the Doctor said. "What would you have done, in his situation?"
Donna was silent a moment. "I'd make sure those I care about were safe, then do what must be done."
The Doctor shoved Braxiatel's little leather notebook at her, the one she had last seen him writing in on Gallifrey. "Hurry up and read it before he realizes I nicked it."
Donna took the notebook from him and opened it. Inside was page after page of the circular sprawl of Gallifreyan writing. At first it made no sense to her, but quietly the shapes rearranged themselves in her mind into words and ideas. Flipping back to the first page, she began to read. At first she was horrified, even repulsed, by the things she read. But then she remembered the look on the Doctor's face, shadowed by fire and water, as the offspring of the Racnosss died. She also remembered how it had wounded him.
The only reason why she didn't shove the notebook back at the Doctor was the other set of inscriptions, carefully notated next to the first. They detailed what steps Braxiatel had taken to undo what he had done. In some cases, especially when things were erased from the time lines, some direct reparation couldn't have been made.
For instance, she read about how he--under Pandora's influence--had erased the children of Jason Kane and Bernice Summerfield. It was impossible to bring them back, but two other children--ones who would've died in a refugee camp on the edge of the Plediad System--found themselves in a loving home, the horrors of their previous existence wiped from the Web of Time. She read about time spent in places caring for the dying, and while Braxiatel couldn't have brought back Jason Kane to life, she read about how another person was now alive, who should've died--the man was talked back from the edge of suicide by a strange visitor. The very last page of the book was a single word, Donna's name.
"Pen," Donna said to the Doctor, holding out her hand. After she had lapsed into silence while reading, her word was like a gunshot or a crack of thunder.
The Doctor dutifully handed over a pen, and watched Donna furiously writing on the last page of the book. Peeking over the cover, the Doctor blushed at some of the things he read.
Donna sensed the Doctor's discomfort. Without looking up, she said, "Then don't snoop, Martian Boy." Finally, she stopped writing and returned the Doctor's pen. "Come on. Brax is going to be here for a few days. Let's go get the things he's going to need."
The Doctor and Donna walked back across the parking lot, where Braxiatel's TARDIS had materialized, sent back with the physicians. Between the two of them, it was a short task to pack an overnight bag of toiletries, clothes, and other things Braxiatel would need for his stay. Both wondered just where Braxiatel had obtained the boxers in embarrassingly loud and clashing prints. Of course, those happened to be the only underwear that Donna and the Doctor had packed. Giggling at their prank, they passed near the Torchwood SUV. Into the back of it Gwen and Jack were loading large biohazard bags.
Jack straightened up and stretched his back as he saw them. Both he and Gwen looked to be barely able to stand because of their exhaustion. "One person bleeding sure makes a lot of waste," Jack said. "Can't leave any of it behind, though. All you have to do is sneeze, comb your hair, shave, or take a crap, and you've left DNA behind. No need to make it any easier for the alien conspiracy theory nuts out there."
Gwen wiped her forehead and said, "I'll see if Martha has the lines used from the transfusion."
"Good thinking," Jack responded. "How's Brax?"
"Better than the last time I saw him," the Doctor responded. "I'll be sticking around for a few days, at least. If nothing else, there's still the business with the Mindwights to help you clean up after. Kind of my mess."
"The what?" Gwen asked.
"Mindwights? Zombies in Cardiff sucking people's brains?" the Doctor prompted.
"Maybe you should get some rest," Jack said. "You aren't making a whole lot of sense."
"Mindwight? Never heard of them," Gwen said, shaking her head as if to clear her own fatigue.
"Come on, Jack, you must've heard about the Mindwights before now." But as the Doctor spoke, a cold realization began to dawn on him.
"No," Jack said, thinking for a moment. "Just Brax getting mugged and stabbed. That was excitement enough. The folks back home said they'd take care of the mess left in the alley."
The Doctor and Donna exchanged nervous glances and continued on to the hospital. "Donna," the Doctor began, "do you remember what happened?"
For a moment, Donna looked as weary as the rest did. "Of course, Spaceman. Mindwights, zombies, getting sucked into the Time Vortex. I am a bit dehydrated, though. Killer headache from it. Why do you ask?"
They passed Ianto carrying more bags of medical waste. "It would seem that the Mindwights have been erased from history," the Doctor said.
"The temporal wossname?" Donna asked. "Because I was around either you or Brax when it happened?"
"So it would seem," the Doctor said.
"Remind me not to get on your people's bad side," Donna responded.
"I'd be more worried about what happens to them, if they cross you," the Doctor muttered.
"'Scuze me?"
"Nothing..."
For a long time, Mickey sat in the chair next to the hospital bed in which Braxiatel was sleeping, saying nothing. Finally, as his own fatigue began to take hold, he began to speak.
"Yeah, back there? I said some things I'm not proud of. I didn't know you were bluffing, see. I guess I'm saying I'm sorry for the things I said." Mickey lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Awkwardly, he put a business card face-down on the table next to the bed. "I'm leaving my card. If you need anything, call, okay? The food here's pretty disgusting." As he turned to leave, he held the door open for Donna, who was just about to open the door.
Donna approached the hospital bed in the dim room. She remembered seeing her father in a bed similar to this during his last illness, but even then she wasn't expecting to see how frail Braxiatel looked. Like the Doctor, he usually radiated a larger-than-life presence, and underneath hid a raw power. Now, dozing, Braxiatel looked mortal. She reached out and caressed his cheek with the back of her fingertips, feeling relief that he had some color. A little smile spread over his face, before opened his eyes.
"You were awake the whole time when Mickey was in here?" she asked.
"Letting him save face," Braxiatel explained.
"You ever trick me like that again with the Mindwights and I'll finish you off myself," Donna said.
Braxiatel turned his head away from her, but said nothing. Donna crossed to the other side of the bed, and before he could look away again, she gently kissed him. A second or two after she pulled away, his little half-smile returned.
"Am I forgiven?" he asked.
Donna held the water bottle and straw so he could take a sip. "Thank you," she said awkwardly. "For saving my life, that is."
"The universe would've been a poorer place without you in it," Braxiatel said.
"Was thinking the same thing about you," Donna replied.
With a grunt and wincing slightly, Braxiatel eased over to make room. "Tell me a story?" he asked.
Donna was taken aback. "I already told you about the Oodsphere--"
"No, not those. Of temping, football games, and such."
"You're kidding, right?" Donna asked. Braxiatel patted the empty space next to him. "Don't think they'll approve," Donna said as she eyed the door. Giving in, she lowered the bed rail on that side. She laid down next to him on the edge of the bed and began to recount all the things she thought nobody else in the universe would be remotely interested in: which assignment had the best coffee, inter-office squabbles and politics, and conversations at the pub after work.
A few minutes later, when the Doctor peeked in, both were soundly sleeping, with Donna faintly snoring. She lay with her body protectively curled around Braxiatel's.