Chapter Sixty-Five: The Fundamental Human

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"Cardiff!"

"'Cardiff'?"

At Martha's disgruntled echo, the Doctor hurriedly raises a hand in his defence. "Ah, but! Thing about Cardiff, it's built on a rift in time and space, just like California on the San Andreas fault... but the rift bleeds energy. Every now and then I need to open up the engines, soak up the energy and use it as fuel."

She laughs, following him around the console as he starts up the process with various buttons and dials. "So it's a pit stop?"

"Exactly! Should only take twenty seconds."

"Oh."

He pauses at the sound of my voice. A crease forms between his eyebrows as he sees me curled up on the seats. "Everything all right?" he gently asks.

I hurriedly offer a smile. "Just thought we'd get more time here, is all. I mean, we haven't been here since..."

I don't even need to finish my sentence. He knows what I mean — the last trip we went on with Jack before we were dragged off to Station 5 before it all went wrong. But while I expect him to offer some form of comfort, he tenses up and looks for anything else to talk about. Something on the screen catches his eye. "The rift's been active."

"Wait a minute," Martha says. "They had an earthquake in Cardiff a couple years ago, was that you?"

"Bit of trouble with a Slitheen. A long time ago. Lifetimes. I was a different man, back then." Sighing wearily, I curl up into an even smaller ball, wrapped up in the Doctor's trench coat. He presses a few more buttons, his hand brushing against my back as he passes. "Finito, all powered up."

He frowns at something on the screen but just as quickly breaks into a smile when he meets my gaze, pulling the launch lever.

The console crackles and sparks. A sharp jolt almost knocks me from my seat.

Jumping up, I race over to the others. They stare at a scan of the Vortex outside, flickering with undiscernible Gallifreyan characters. "What's that?"

"We're accelerating, into the future. The year one billion... five billion... five trillion... fifty trillion! What? The year one hundred trillion? That's impossible!"

Alarmed, Martha and I look at him. "Why, what happens then?"

"We're going to the end of the universe."

With one last flash of electricity, we come to a stop. The ship becomes strangely quiet.

"Well... we've landed."

She gulps, her gaze fixed on the door. "So what's out there?" she asks, fearfully quiet.

His answer — "I don't know" — is not something we hear often. I have learned to be wary when the Doctor is out of answers. It is unlikely that we'll be faced with anything short of terrifying.

Martha can feel it too, that uneasiness. She forces a chuckle, "Oh, say that again. That's rare."

"Not even the Time Lords came this far," he continues. I know the look of fear in his eyes well. "We should leave. We should go. We should really, really... go."

Then, shooting us an excited grin, he leads the way out of the Tardis.

The world outside is cold and dark. Jagged cliff faces and rocky slopes stretch for as far as the eye can see. The only form of vegetation is the dried shrubs dotted sparsely around us. I look up and see no stars in the sky. I shiver, huddling his coat closer around me for something to remind me of home.

"Oh my God!"

Following Martha's shout, I turn. My heart stops.

A body lies not that far ahead.

Jack's body.

But it can't be. It makes no sense. I must be seeing things. There is no way that he could be all the way out here, right at the end of the universe, when he died six years ago. Surely.

I want to run to him but my body won't budge. I can't even blink or catch my breath. I just stare.

She kneels beside him, pressing a hand against his neck. "Can't get a pulse. Hold on, you've got that medical kit thing."

The Doctor looks over at me. I get a horrible feeling that he'd rather I wasn't here. But why?

"Hello, again," he says, standing over the body. "I'm sorry."

"Here we go. Get out of the way!" she calls, returning from the Tardis with the first aid kit. "It's a bit odd, though. Not very hundred trillion. That coat's more like World War Two."

I try to take deep breaths, to pinch myself, anything. This must be a trick, some kind of test from the Gods. That thought is enough for me to take a clumsy step closer.

"I think he came with us."

He isn't surprised. He should be surprised. At least a little bit.

She looks back at the Doctor, confused, as she puts on a stethoscope. "How d'you mean? From Earth?"

He digs his hands into his trouser pockets. "Must have been clinging to the outside of the Tardis, all the way through the vortex. Well, that's very him."

"Do you know him?"

"Friend of mine. Used to travel with me, back in the old days."

Her shocked expression fades to one of pity as she looks back at his pale face. "But he's— I'm sorry, there's no heartbeat, there's nothing. He's dead."

With a loud gasp, the body jolts back to life. He grabs onto Martha to steady himself.

Once again, my stomach lurches. I stare on, bewildered, unsure what to think or do.

"Oh, well, so much for me!" she cries in relief. "It's all right, just breathe deep. I've got you."

When he has regained enough air, he smirks up at her in a way I recognise immediately. "Captain Jack Harkness. And who are you?"

"Martha Jones."

"Nice to meet you, Martha Jones."

"Oh, don't start!"

His gaze coldly falls on the Doctor and he snaps, "I was only saying hello."

She laughs awkwardly, cheeks flushed. "I don't mind."

He gets to his feet. Finally, he sees me hidden behind the others. A disbelieving smile brightens his face. "Nara?"

There is no doubt left in my mind. Failing to stop a breathless sob, I sprint forwards, throwing my arms around him. He can barely stand but hugs me back without hesitation. "Oh my Gods. Jack, I thought you were dead! I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?"

Just as I start to pull away, the sound of his voice prompts me to tighten my hold all over again. My face hides against his shoulder as I fight to hold myself together. "B-But I thought you were dead. I— I thought you— You were gone, Jack."

It takes another moment before we separate. Martha's wide eyes dart between us. "Hang on. Jack. Like, Jack the brother, Jack?"

He quirks an eyebrow and looks over at me. "You said I was your brother?" he teases.

I fake a scowl, nudging him. "Of course I did."

His joy fades fast. "Doctor," he acknowledges.

"Captain."

"Good to see you."

"And you. Same as ever. Although... have you had work done?"

If possible, his glare becomes even icier. "You can talk!"

At first, the Doctor seems to take offence. "Oh, yes, the face! Regeneration. How did you know this was me?"

He gestures to the Tardis. "The police box kind of gives it away. And, you know, the fact my best friend is here with you. I've been following you for a long time. You abandoned me."

Once again, I'm certain my heart skips a beat. His eyes dart over to me for a moment and I am taken aback by the guardedness of it. "Did I? Busy life. Moving on."

Everything has become horribly quiet. Even my racing thoughts cease upon hearing his words. My mind goes blank. It's as if I am on the brink of thinking something so deeply altering that a part of me refuses to let me think it.

"I've just got to ask," Jack says. "The Battle of Canary Wharf. I saw the list of the dead... i-it said Rose Tyler."

"Oh, no! Sorry! She's alive."

Disbelief and hope crash into one. He blinks. "You're kidding?"

"Parallel world, safe and sound! And Mickey. And her mother."

"Oh, yes!" he cheers, dragging him into his embrace. They both laugh. Even in my dazed state, I can hear the strain in both of their voices.

"Good old Rose," Martha mutters.

I don't dare to let go of Jack as we continue along the rocky ridge. Arms linked, I take the time to remind myself of his voice, his smell, everything I had begun to forget. My head rests on his shoulder and his on top of mine.

"So there I was, stranded in the year 200,100, ankle deep in Dalek dust, and he goes off without me... but I had this." Even the tapping of his finger against the device on his wrist is not enough for me to tear my gaze away from the Doctor. He pretends not to notice me, walking slightly apart from the three of us. Jack quickly explains upon seeing Martha's confusion, "Nara and I used to be Time Agents. It's called a Vortex Manipulator. He's not the only one who can time-travel."

"Oh, excuse me. That is not time travel. It's like, I've got a sports car, you've got a space hopper."

As if on instinct, he looks at me after his joke. It doesn't take long for him to realise why he was avoiding me in the first place. My glare burns into him, my mind still searching for a conclusion it doesn't want to make.

Martha laughs, "Oh, boys and their toys!"

"All right, so I bounced. I thought, twenty-first century, the best place to find the Doctor. Except I got it a little wrong, arrived in 1869, this thing burnt out, so it was useless."

"Told you," he chirps.

Jack rolls his eyes and presses on with the story. "I had to live through the entire twentieth century, waiting for a version of you that coincided with me."

I scoff, "If I'd known, I would have contacted you. Got stuck in both 1913 and 1969 for months!"

"Wait, seriously?"

"But that makes you more than a hundred years old," Martha curiously notes.

"And looking good, don't you think?" he jokes. "So, I went to the Time Rift, based myself there 'cause I knew you'd come back to refuel. Until finally, I get a signal on this detecting you, and here we are."

She still isn't satisfied. "But the thing is, how come you left him behind, Doctor?"

I lean around Jack to fix him with another expectant glare. "Yes, Doctor. Why did you do that?"

"I was busy."

Neither of them misses the coldness of the interaction, especially in his reply. She frowns. "Is that what happens? Do you just get bored of us one day and disappear?"

Jack shrugs. "Not if you're blonde. Or Inara."

"Oh, she was blonde? What a surprise!"

"You two!" he suddenly snaps, turning on them. "We're at the end of the universe, hmm? Right at the edge of knowledge itself and you're busy... blogging! Come on."

We walk on for a little further before we reach the very edge of the ridge. A gorge stretches out before us in the shadows. The light of a lonely moon illuminates the smooth surfaces of bridges, pillars and shelves carved into the cliffsides below. They are empty and crumbling.

Nothing on this godsforsaken planet seems to have any good in it.

Martha looks on in wonder. "Is that a city?"

"City, or a hive, or a nest... or a conglomeration. Like it was grown." The Doctor points to something in the distance. "But look, there, that's like... pathways or roads. There must have been some sort of life. Long ago."

"What killed it?"

He bows his head for a moment. "Time. Just time. Everything's dying now. All the great civilisations have gone. This isn't just night — all the stars have burned up and faded away... into nothing."

Jack looks up and the twinkle in his eyes dims a little. He's like me; when he finds no stars in the sky, he loses a part of himself. "They must have an atmospheric shell. We should be frozen to death."

"Well, us lot, maybe. Not so sure about you, Jack."

There it is again. That coldness. What happened for him to lose sight of the friendship they once had?

"But what about all the people? Does no-one survive?"

At Martha's question, he hesitates. We have shown her some bizarre things but this is the scariest of all. To be faced with a universe that may be void of your people, your species, must be awful. "I suppose... I have to hope, life will find a way."

Jack points casually to something below us. "Well, he's not doing too bad."

We look down. A man runs across one of the few bridges still intact, his clothes torn and muddied. Not long after, more follow, these ones dressed in furs and leathers, carrying torches. Their roaring voices carry up to us, "Human!"

"Is it me, or does that look like a hunt? Come on!"

Sprinting down the slope, we manage to intercept the man. Jack hurriedly steadies him as he seems near to collapsing. "I've got you."

"They're coming! They're coming!"

I usher him behind us, standing my ground with the others. There are too many of these strangers. Their cries are animalistic. In the torchlight, I catch a glimpse of their bared teeth, filed down to points. Jack takes a gun from the holster strapped to his hip.

"Jack, don't you dare!"

He yells out in frustration. They're almost upon us. Even if we run now, we won't get away.

Several shots fire into the air. The hunters stop. Gnashing their teeth and baring yellowed talons, they seem to debate whether or not they should risk coming any closer.

"What the hell are they?"

The man whimpers, "There's more. We've got to keep going."

Nodding, the Doctor reaches to steady him. "I've got a ship not that far away. It's safe, it's over there..." We look in the direction of the Tardis. More of those creatures race down the slope towards us. "Or maybe not."

"We're close to the Silo. If we get to the Silo, then we're safe."

"Silo?" he asks us.

"Silo," Jack and I echo.

"Silo for me."

We start to run again. New structures greet us the closer we get. Instead of withered bushes and cliffs, we see barbed wire and rusted metal framework. A spotlight follows us closer and closer to what looks like some sort of camp, surrounded in mesh fencing and corrugated walls. "It's the Futurekind," the man yells. "They're coming, let us in!"

The guard shouts right back, "Show me your teeth! Show me your teeth!"

They're almost here.

A torch pierces my eyes. "Show him your teeth," the man urgently repeats.

Just a few more metres to go. We bare our teeth for him. He waves to someone behind the gate. "Human! Let them in!"

The gates open just enough for us to get in. One of the guards directs a spray of bullets in the path of the hunters to deter them. They snarl but do not attempt to come closer. One of them — with a face covered in geometric tattoos, scars and piercings — grimaces and we get a look at his fangs again. "Humanssss," he hisses. "Human meat. Make feast." He sounds like the cavemen in movies, barely able to form consonants. I imagine it must be hard with those teeth.

The guard points the gun through the gap in the gates. "Go back to where you came from. I said, go back! Back!"

Jack scoffs, "Oh, don't tell him to put his gun down."

"He's not my responsibility," the Doctor snaps right back.

"And I am? That makes a change."

The Futurekind's leader scampers closer, stooped slightly. He points at Martha and I step in front of her. "I watching you. I hungry." When it becomes clear that we won't let them in, he waves his arm and lets out another cry, signalling for his people to leave.

Once we are sure they're gone, the leading guard motions for us to follow him. The Doctor eyes his rifle warily. "Thanks for that."

"Right, let's get you inside."

The man hurries to catch up with him. "My name is Padra Fet Shafe Cane. Tell me, just tell me, can you take me to Utopia?"

"Oh, yes, sir. Yes, I can!

The fortress within the outer walls is made of metal and concrete. Staircases disappear up into rooms above and below, underground. Stopping within the entrance hall of the vast building, the Doctor tries to get an administrator's attention, "It's like a box. A big, blue box. I'm sorry, but I really need it back, it's stuck out there."

All he receives is a mutter about logging his question and a small pad is pushed into his hand. Padra anxiously interrupts, "Sorry, but my family were heading for the Silo. Did they get here? My mother is Kistane Shafe Cane, my brother's name is Beltone."

"You can check the paperwork. Creet! Passenger needs help."

A small boy pops his head around the corner. I am immediately struck by his mop of blond curls. My breath catches in my throat. More thoughts of 1913 come rushing back to me. They are harder to bury this time around.

He takes out a clipboard almost more than half his size and strides towards us. "Right. What do you need?"

Padra seems unfazed by the child's age, bending to get a look at the list of names. The administrator looks up from his pad. "A blue box, you said?"

"Big, tall, wooden, says 'Police'."

He doesn't seem to completely believe it but says, "We're driving out for the last water collection, I'll see what I can do.

"Thank you."

Creet takes the clipboard back, nodding for Padra to follow him. "We can still take a look. Come on."

"Sorry, but... how old are you?"

"Old enough to work. This way."

I don't move to follow them. The Doctor pauses when he realises what it is, and why my pained gaze is fixed on the little boy. "Are you all right?"

At the sound of his voice, I look back up at him. The heat of this place doesn't reach me anymore. Roughly shrugging his trench coat off, I shove it into his arms and leave without a word. Jack says nothing when I catch up with him. He just smiles apologetically. I don't answer with my own.

We trudge down the metal walkways after Creet. People huddle along the walls in little camps, wrapped up with blankets and tattered bags of belongings. The smell of sweat and mould is too strong, even for some people's attempts to cover it up with burning incense. The walls are plastered with messages and photos of people I assume are missing or dead. Some children's drawings also litter the walls. This must be the closest they have to displaying them on the fridge — the closest to home these people can get.

"Kistane Shafe Cane!" Creet calls out. "Kistane and Beltone Shafe Cane. I'm looking for Kistane and Beltone Shafe Cane."

"The Shafe Canes, anyone?" Padra tries.

"Anyone?"


"It's like a refugee camp," Martha whispers to us.

"It is."

This place does not shock me as it does the others. I have seen plenty of refugee camps in my time, most of them on my own planet. When people lost their homes to the floods and the rockfalls, to drought and famine and rivers too polluted to drink from, they were cared for by the Children of Minerva, Apollo and Mercury. Part of my training as a priestess was spent in tents and shelters just like this, healing those who had lost everything. I see my people in these faces.

"It's stinking!" I dig my elbow into Jack's side. He hurriedly smiles at a passer-by and adds, "Oh, sorry. No offence. Not you."

The Doctor grins around at them. "Don't you see, though? The ripe old smell of humans! You survived! Oh, you might have spent a million years evolving into clouds of gas, and another million as downloads, but you always revert to the same basic shape. The fundamental human. End of the universe and here you are!" They just stare as he passes by. He's used to the odd looks but they never ruin his mood. Throwing an arm around Martha, he continues, "Indomitable, that's the word! Indomitable! Ha!"

I don't even notice the tears gathering in my eyes, threatening to fall. Not until he turns again in his natural search for my smile. His face falls.

Without a word, he turns and walks again. As if he

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