by Philosophercat [Reviews - 0]

  • All Ages
  • None
  • Alternate Universe, General

Author's Notes:
A/U set some time after ‘The Doctor’s Daughter.’

It is winter as the Doctor waits in Amsterdam, 1576. In the street he senses a presence; his feet rasp against the cobblestones as he turns abruptly on his heel and looks hard after a young woman walking past. He moves after her, calls her name in a clear voice and she turns. Her gaze dips below the shade of pale lashes, expectation baffled. His pale eyes recognize hers which ought to have silently succumbed to funereal flames.

‘You know who I am,’ she says abruptly, scrutinizing him closely. ‘But, who are you?’

‘Oh Jenny,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry.’ In one movement, he drew Jenny near to him, continuing to speak absently. ‘It really is you,’ his voice tailed off. ‘It’s you.’ He released her slowly, more words forming on his lips never being realized in speech.

‘Sorry for what?’Her words were almost drowned out by the sound of feet clattering on the moistened cobbles. A tall man in a long dark coat joined her, hastily throwing his arms around her shoulders, bundling her away.

‘Come along!’ he demanded under his breath. She followed willingly, casting a puzzled glance behind her. The Doctor paused for an instant.

‘Jenny, wait-‘


The Doctor turned in time to see his companion emerge from the buildings behind him, in time to see the explosion. He was close enough to feel the heat crackling through the air around him. The man was facing him and their eyes met. And then he and Jenny were gone. The Doctor’s companion had fallen against the wall. As the smoke cleared, he lifted himself to his feet, unharmed. The Doctor stared back into the darkness and raised his hands to his head.

‘Oh no,’ he whispered.

‘Not good?’ asked his companion, checking himself for injury. The Doctor said nothing. ‘Who was that you were talking to?’ But the Doctor was strangely changed, almost mesmerized, rooted to the spot and utterly absorbed in thought. All at once, he whirled on his feet and tore off at a dead run back down the street. ‘Doctor!’ cried his companion. ‘You’re going the wrong way!’ The Doctor was already almost out of sight. His companion raced after him as best he could, but even so it was a few minutes before he could see more than the Doctor’s coat-tails whipping in his wake. ‘Doctor!’ he cried.

‘Back to the TARDIS!’ was the reply. ‘Hurry!’ But they were already looking across the square where they had left the ancient call box. The Doctor slid to a halt and snapped his fingers. The doors obligingly opened and he disappeared inside. His companion joined him a moment later and the doors closed upon them both.

‘Doctor, who were those people?’ demanded his companion. The Doctor hastily raised a silencing finger in the air.

‘Quiet! I have to think!’ He took a deep breath and once again closed his eyes and remained still. He opened them again and his hands were on the controls of the console. ‘I have to do a scan…’ His eyes cleared and he put his head back as he read the results. ‘Yes, I knew it,’ he sighed. His companion knew better than to ask. He was rewarded, therefore, with an answer. The Doctor crossed in front of the console, and enmeshed his hands as he does when he is preoccupied.

‘That young woman you saw in the lane was my daughter, Jenny,’ he said.

‘Jenny? You’re not serious!’

‘Oh, I usually am,’ said the Doctor. ‘And the man with her was me.’ He turned back to the console, and leaned upon it, once again submerging into thought.

‘He can’t be you, Doctor. You wouldn’t be wandering around Amsterdam with a staser.’ The Doctor looked up and smiled.

‘I did once, actually,’ he laughed before rubbing his hand through his hair. ‘But that was long ago, and he’s yet to come. You’re quite right; Jenny ought not to be here, and neither should he.’

‘But if he’s you, he could turn up in any time line, right? So, what’s wrong with that?’

‘He died,’ said the Doctor, as though those two words explained the entire situation. ‘I left him to die in the Matrix, long ago. He calls himself the Valeyard.’