Chapter Text
A gently pulsing, wheezing sound filled the small alley beside the building known as the Magnus Institute. The TARDIS was quite good at going unnoticed when she needed to, and not a single pair of eyes so much as grazed her.
“Here we go! Millbank, Chelsea, London just past eleven in the morning!” Jon stepped out of the TARDIS after the Doctor and Donna, closing the door behind him.
Before he let go of the handle, the ship brushed gently against his mind, an indefinable and soothing gesture that was all at once achingly familiar and entirely new.
It was, in some ways, similar to the telepathic connection gallifreyan children share with their parents, a reassuring presence that promised protection and comfort. The similarities ended there though, the consciousness of the TARDIS was all encompassing and utterly alien to him. If a parent was a hand loving wrapped around his, the ship was sunlight on his skin, intangible, warm and pleasant. Under the kind attention of such a powerful being Jon felt very small and very cared for in a way he had never experienced before. He stood in it for a moment, gazing up at the light that spilled through her windows.
He dropped his hand and turned. The Doctor was looking at him with a faint knowing smile on his face, and he had to fight down a blush, quickly turning his attention to where they had landed.
“It’s just down here.” He walked down the few steps to the side entrance, leading directly into the Basement of the building. He entered the code on the rusted old keypad and pushed the door open into the assistant's work area.
The Doctor lingered a few moments, placing an affectionate hand on his ship. Clearly, the TARDIS had decided that Jon was one of hers now, just as she had decided the Doctor was hers all those centuries ago, and Donna when she brought her to them.
She thrummed at her thief, urging him to go after her new charge, to take action in ways she couldn't on her own. It amused her when her Doctor seemed to think he was in charge, like a cat claiming superiority over its human. She indulged him plenty, taking him where he wanted to go, but most of the time he didn't know where he needed to go. But the TARDIS always did, and brought her clever thief where she wanted to help, and sent him out to do what he did best.
And Rassilon knows Jon needed help. He was barely out of teenagerhood, still a kid by the Doctor’s standards and clearly in a very bad situation, if even just the physical scars were anything to go by. He had told them about the pockmarks across half his face and arms, about Jane Prentiss and her worms. The thought of that, of worms digging and burrowing into skin, made him feel faintly ill all over again. He hadn’t mentioned the burns, or the thin line across his throat. But he knew from experience what kind of mark a knife against the throat left and he could tell he never got proper treatment for his hand. He made a mental note to dig through his medical supplies for that medicated burn cream he was sure he still had.
Actually, scratch that, it was probably long expired. Best to just replicate something.
Martin was not having a very good day. The air was hot and still, and the dust in the air seemed thicker than ever, making his throat dry and his head feel like cotton. It could have been worse though, it wasn't nearly as hot as above ground, and if he didn't move too much, he could avoid breaking into a sweat. He blinked at the computer screen in front of him, trying to access records for an apartment complex in Hackney without much luck. He was pretty sure it wasn't even a real statement. But this was his job and even though he couldn't get fired, Elias probably wasn't above cutting his pay. Or, y’know, murdering him.
Melanie was banging around in the break room, which was doing his headache absolutely no favors. She had been like this all day, snapping at anyone who tried to talk to her, and when no one did, putting a little too much force into everything she did to not-so-subtly express her discontent.
He continued to trudge through his pointless task.
A few minutes went by in a haze of boredom, before he heard footsteps coming down the stairs from the side entrance. He looked up and waited for them to get to the bottom, hoping to whatever benevolent force was out there that it would be more interesting than the possibility of hallucinogenic mold or gas leaks. The door clicked open with an electric buzz to reveal something that was definitely more interesting.
"Jon! You're back!"
He smiled brightly at the man and looked him over, taken off guard by his sudden reappearance after almost a month of radio silence. He looked… not quite good but not bad either. The dark stains under his eyes had softened and his hair was neater than the last time he saw him. He was wearing a cardigan he had never seen before in a soft green color that he noted complemented his skin tone nicely. Wasn't he too warm in that? But, he noted with concern, he looked a little pale and his usual thinness had tipped over into unhealthy. "I uh, didn't know you were coming back today." Or at all. I've been worried, you didn't call.
Jon looked happy to see him when he walked in, which sent an unexpected warmth to his chest. But there was something tired in his expression, and… sad?
That expression had faded quickly though, replaced with bewilderment. "...what?"
Had he missed an email about it? He didn't think so, he had asked Melanie if she’d heard from him, quite a few times too, and she hadn't gotten anything either.
"Oh good lord, did Elias not tell you?"
He sounded a bit angry now. Oh christ, he had definitely missed something. "Um… tell me what?" His voice came out a little squeaky.
"No, no it's… of course he didn't. " Jon muttered darkly.
Before he could properly ask what was going on, a woman with long red hair stepped down into view, followed closely by a brown haired man in a suit and trench coat.
"Oh! Sorry, are you… here to make a statement?"
"No, not really," the woman answered. Martin was about to tell them that the archives were closed to the public, when she continued. “Donna. Donna Noble.” She elbowed her companion who had been spinning on his heels taking in the archives in all their disorganized glory, coat swishing around his ankles. Wasn’t he too hot in all those layers? “And that’s the Doctor.”
He turned to Martin with a sheepish grin. “Yes! Hello, that's me.”
“Martin Blackwood. Nice to… sorry, who are you?”
“I’m the Doctor,” he answered like it was the simplest thing in the world.
“Right.” He hesitated, glancing over at Jon who was standing in front of Martin’s desk, arms loosely wrapped around his middle. He didn’t seem concerned about their presence at least. Did they come in with him? “Doctor who?”
“Just the Doctor,” he grinned, like Martin’s confusion delighted him. Now that rang some alarm bells. He said it like it was a name but it was a title. But even that didn’t fit right. It seemed almost like a statement of identity. It was exactly the sort of answer Martin would expect from something like Michael.
“Jon, can I talk to you for a minute?” he all but demanded, voice hard.
Jon on the other hand seemed perfectly relaxed about the situation. “It’s alright, Martin,” he reassured, locking eyes with his assistant. There was something else in his expression, something open and honest, like he was asking Martin for his trust. Something Martin knew he would never be able to refuse him, for better or for worse.
“They’re here to help with the Unknowing.”
“Oh so we’re dragging more people into this mess?”
A young woman was standing in a doorway at the back of the open space, mug in hand and harsh glower on her face. The Doctor saw how tense Jon had gotten at her tone and jumped in.
“Hello, I’m the Doctor,” he repeated once more with a grin, hoping to diffuse the tension. Like that ever worked. “And that’s Donna,” he indicated with a tilt of his head.
She just scowled at him harder. “If I were you I would leave as fast as you can. Before you’re trapped here with the rest of us.”
“Yeah, not gonna happen.” Donna crossed her arms in defiance. “We’ll make our own choices, thanks.”
“I am trying to help you. What were you thinking, Jon?” The phone on her desk started ringing, but she ignored it.
“Can we maybe get back to what Elias was supposed to tell us…?” Martin tried, hoping this wouldn’t turn into another shouting match.
“Melanie, please just–” Jon started.
“Please what?? ” Melanie snapped harshly, slamming the mug down on a desk. Jon flinched but she didn’t seem to notice.
The Doctor immediately stepped forward to stand right beside the young Time Lord, ready to get him out of there if things continued to escalate.
“Oi!” Donna yelled, trying to get her attention away from him. “Will you calm–”
Melanie just kept yelling, more angry by the second. “You haven't been here , Jon, you can’t just–!”
“I was kidnapped!”
Silence fell abruptly, with the last ring of the phone coinciding neatly with Jon’s exclamation.
After a moment of stillness, Martin was the first to unfreeze.
“Kidnapped ?” The phone started to ring again. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” He rushed out. “... now ,” he added under his breath. The phone seemed to get louder with each ring. “Will someone please answer that phone?” he snapped.
Melanie finally picked it up with a gruff “Yes?”
She listened for a moment while everyone else stared at her waiting to know what it was about. “...yeah. I’ll tell him.” She hung up. “Elias wants to see you, Jon.”
He fought the urge to scream in frustration. “Christ. Did he… say when?”
“Right now.”
He glanced back at Donna and the Doctor, trying to decide if he should ignore Elias or not. Or if he should tell him what was going on. Assuming he had any choice in the matter and he didn’t already Know, but… he couldn't be sure, but he had a feeling he didn’t. The Doctor met his eyes and likely took his hesitation as reluctance to go talk to his murderer boss and spoke up.
“Do you want me to go with you?”
He flushed a little, feeling somewhat like a child scared to go into the dentist’s office on his own.
“Ah– no. Best not I think,” he answered. “Just stay here, I’ll be right back.”
As he walked past her, he half expected Melanie to bridge the gap between them and... do something? She didn't thought, of course she didn't, and Jon continued past her without issue.
Once Jon had left up a staircase that presumably led up to the rest of the building, an awkward silence fell over the four people remaining. Or at least three of them, as the Doctor seemed to be immune to such things. Donna watched as he perched himself on a mostly empty desk, feet on a chair and stared off at nothing, rhythmically running his slender fingers through the hair at his nape.
“So… how exactly do you know Jon?”
She tore her eyes away from the clearly preoccupied alien and turned to Martin.
“We rescued him from his kidnappers. it’s always like this with him," she said, nodding in the Doctor's direction. "Never runs out of people to save.” She gave him a wry smile. “He’s got one hell of a hero complex, if you ask me.”
Martin shot the Doctor an odd look. “Well I’m glad Jon got a nice rescue.” He turned back to the papers on his desk and sort of rearranged them into no distinct order.
Donna frowned at his odd behavior. He almost sounded… No. Way. His mouth thinned when he glanced at the Doctor a second time. Oh he totally was.
“So,” she started, smothering down a smile, “how long have you known Jon?”
Right on cue Martin went just a little bit pink and flustered. “Oh! I, uh, well I started working here just over a year ago, so… since then," he finished, voice a little squeaky.
“Martin, stop chatting with her, we don’t even know who they are!” Apparently Melanie hadn’t gotten over her bad mood.
The Doctor frowned at her and got up to stand by Donna.
“It wouldn’t kill you to be nice every once in a while, Melanie,” Martin huffed. “Besides Jon said they were here to help with the Unknowing, can you at least trust him a bit?”
“No Martin, I can’t. Because it is his fault that I’m here. God, I wish I'd never set foot in this place!” She turned on the time traveling duo. “I do genuinely hope you can be useful, but if you can’t , then I'd suggest you get stay of my way.” She snatched up a bag that was resting by her desk. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going on my lunch break.”
Martin winced as she slammed the door on her way out.
"Sorry about that," he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It's been a hard year on all of us."
He replaced his round framed glasses and looked back up at them with a pinched smile. "How about some tea while we wait?"