Chapter Text
The year was 1965. The Doctor, Nardole, and Missy in the Vault, had already been in Bristol for over twenty years, surviving the World War II raids, rationing, and the Beatles. Nardole and the Doctor had fallen into a bit of a routine. The Doctor felt that Missy had been on her own long enough and maybe it was time to try talking to her. So he and Nardole would take turns, once a week, to spend the night outside the Vault and talk to Missy. The Doctor would actually talk, but Nardole would usually just bring a book to read aloud.
It was November, so even though it wasn’t quite time for evening tea, it was already completely dark outside. This year, the Doctor didn’t have any students he was tutoring. Which meant he grew bored easily. Nardole did his best to hide news of UNIT from the Doctor, lest he get too anxious and tried to interfere with things that he had already meddled in once before. But Nardole didn’t know everything. And he certainly didn’t know what a mistake it would be to leave the paper sitting on the tray when he brought the Doctor his dinner.
The Doctor, for his part, mostly ignored the news. He would occasionally read some things, just so he didn’t make a complete fool of himself when he had to make appearances at faculty functions, but usually, he would just spend a few days ‘cramming’ before such events. Still, Nardole would occasionally leave the paper with him, usually in an effort to get the Doctor engaged in helping with various things in the area.
Tonight, was one of those nights. Nardole left the paper sitting on the tray so that a headline mentioning Indonesian Flu would prominently face the Doctor. He went into the Doctor’s office carrying the tray. The Doctor looked up at him. “Time to eat again? Didn’t I just eat?”
Nardole offered what he considered a compassionate smile. “That was two days ago, sir. You’ve been spending all this time teaching and grading papers. Either they are that good, or that bad. You usually grade faster than this.”
The Doctor shrugged. “They’re all average. Firsts and Lasts are earned places. They easily distinguish themselves by the amount of effort they put in or by not even bothering to do the assigned work. It’s the average ones that need all my attention. Because I need to help them improve or convince them that my class isn’t worth their time or effort.”
Nardole frowned at that. He didn’t like it when the Doctor spoke like that. “Doctor, you know there are students who sneak into your lectures just to listen to them, right?”
The Doctor nodded once. “But when I see these students who could get Firsts and they don’t try properly? I wonder where I failed them. I mean, either work to earn your grade, or don’t, but I can’t abide by those who just go through the motions.”
“I think you’ve been focused on grading too long and you just need a break. Eat some food, have some tea, I’m sure it’ll make you feel better.”
The Doctor sighed heavily, but a part of him knew that he should do as Nardole suggested. He cleared a space on his desk so Nardole could put the tray down. “You’re probably right.”
Nardole grinned at the praise as he approached the Doctor’s desk and started to switch things from the tray to the desk. The Doctor noticed the grin. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“No, of course not, Sir.”
The Doctor nodded and looked over the offerings set before him. Mash, chops, and gravy. He looked up at Nardole. “Really?”
Nardole just hummed in agreement. “Given how rarely you eat, I figured you’d need a meal that might last you a bit.”
The Doctor couldn’t argue with that, even though he wanted to. Nardole walked over to stoke the fire again before he left the Doctor in peace.
The Doctor had taken a few bites of the meal when he finally dared to look at the paper. Something about an Indonesian Flu caught his attention. He read through the article and set it aside to continue to eat. After a few more bites, he picked up the paper and read through the article again. Something was niggling at the back of his brain, but he couldn’t quite place it. He finally shrugged it off and decided it must have been related to Clara.
He continued to eat but there was something about the TARDIS, like she was staring at him. He shook his head. “No. You just stop that right now.”
He finished his meal and set the plates aside. He took up his tea and walked to look out the window that faced West. He stared for a long time, searching for something. He wasn’t sure what, but there was something about that article that bothered him. In the distance, he could just make out the reflection of the Cardiff lights against the overcast sky. The TARDIS hummed loudly, getting his attention. It was an odd cross between a warning and an invitation.
“Well, sure I could contact him. Make sure he’s doing okay. He could probably explain what’s going on, why I have such a bad feeling….” He shook his head. “…It’s not a good idea.”
She hummed again. He knew it was a poor excuse. Nothing like that had ever stopped him before. He sighed. “Fine. I’ll come take a look. Then will you leave me alone?”
The Doctor entered the TARDIS. Her monitors were blank. “Are you kidding me? You ask me in here then don’t give me any other information.”
After a moment, one monitor flashed to life:
CALL JACK
“Oh, that is not helpful. He won’t even know me. It’s been two bodies since he last saw me.”
She flashed the message at him again. He huffed and picked up the phone. “This isn’t going to go well.”
She just hummed at him with encouragement. He nodded and dialled the number. “Secure the line. You know we shouldn’t get involved.”
There was a bleep from the TARDIS before the phone started to ring. It rang several times before a smooth-baritone voice with an American accent spoke. “Jack Harkness.”
It took a moment before the Doctor could speak. “Jack. Indonesian Flu. Something is up with it. What do you know?”
There was a long pause, the Doctor thought Jack was about to hang up. Instead the younger man asked, “Do I know you?”
“No. But I know you. Torchwood. Torchwood Three, to be precise. You didn’t like how it was run, so you rebuilt… No… 1965. Not yet. You will do one day. Sorry. Torchwood probably still works with UNIT these days. As for you. You’re the man who can’t die.”
Jack paused and then quietly spoke. “You have my attention.”
“History’s a bit muddled for me. Especially Earth history. Although, I was never on Earth for a long time in 1965. But I figured you would know. There’s something about this epidemic that I should know. Something on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t place it.”
“I don’t talk to people I don’t know. Even if they know me.”
The Doctor sighed heavily. “You knew me once. Long ago, but timelines. I can’t tell you.”
There was something Jack recognised now. His voice was only a whisper. “Doctor.”
He desperately wanted to answer the longing he heard in Jack’s voice. “I can’t tell you.”
“We already have retcon. I can forget this ever happened. Please.”
The Doctor sighed, knowing that Jack had already figured it out. He was defeated. “Yes.”
“You survived, then! I mean, the TARDIS vanished so I hoped, but I wasn’t sure.”
“After a fashion. I regenerated.”
“I can tell by your voice. But you and Rose… You made it?”
“We did.” That time anyway, silly to tell him about Canary Warf, all that to look forward to. “But this flu. There’s something I should know about it. What can you tell me?”
“I only just learned of it myself. But it seems it will be bad. Wipe out quite a large percentage of the planet. There’s an alien race willing to help us out, though. You can tell me if they’re trustworthy or not.”
“Jack, stop.”
“But, Doctor, I can’t make this decision alone.”
“It doesn’t matter if I tell you, you won’t remember anyway. You promised to use retcon.”
Jack sighed. “I did. And you’re right. So that’s the only reason you called? Not anything else?”
“I’m… Yes. Jack, I can’t help this second, but if you tell me the name of the aliens, I might be able to do something in the future.”
The Doctor could hear the phone muffle as Jack shrugged. “They didn’t tell us their name. Only the frequency they use to communicate is 4-5-6.”
The Doctor’s hearts dropped to his feet. This was the beginning. This was where it had all started. He had flashbacks to when he had learned only too late of all that had happened during those horrible five days that were 44 years in Jack’s future and several bodies in his past. He recovered quickly. He couldn’t tell Jack what was about to happen. “What do they want?”
“The conservative prediction is over twenty-five million people will die when this flu mutates to a new strain. They want twelve children in exchange for the cure.”
The Doctor huffed quietly to himself – it would be twelve, wouldn’t it? But history couldn’t be changed. Even without Jack’s involvement, this event, as well as what awaited them in 2009, were Fixed Points. The Doctor knew what they used the children for and still he couldn’t tell Jack anything. He swallowed hard. “Find children who won’t be missed, Jack. Those on the streets or even in care homes. It doesn’t make the task any less grizzly, but you can make it as painless as possible for families.”
The Doctor hated himself for giving Jack that advice. But Jack deserved better than to carry the weight of that alone on his conscience. Jack swallowed hard at the Doctor’s recommendation. “And you approve?”
“Of course not! But this event, it’s already happened for me. It’s a Fixed Point, it would always happen. I can’t be there for you the way you want me to be, but I can give you that much.”
Jack hummed, not really believing the Doctor. “Can we trust them?”
The Doctor was quiet in return for some moments. “They will provide the cure.”
Jack smirked. “You know that’s not the same, right?”
“It’s the best I can do, Jack.”
Jack nodded. He knew he wasn’t going to get any more. Still, he had missed the alien and he would take what he could get. “Will I ever see you again?”
The Doctor smiled at the thought that Jack would want to see him again. “I’ve missed you too, Jack. Good luck.”
With that Jack rang off. The Doctor slowly lowered the receiver to hang it up. He looked up at the time rotor. “Did you know? All that pressure to call him. Did you know this is what would happen?”
She beeped and whirled in the affirmative. He smacked the edge of the console, frustrated that she would do that to him. A beep caught his attention and he looked back at the monitor.
HE WILL NEED YOU IN FORTY-FOUR YEARS.
“So, are you saying that I couldn’t be involved the first time around because I was here now?”
NOT QUITE.
“Then what?”
YOU CAN’T STOP WHAT WILL HAPPEN.
BUT YOU CAN HELP JACK WHEN HE WILL NEED YOU MOST.
The Doctor pulled a hand down his face. “And you thought I needed this for what? Backstory?”
He heard beeps and whirls. He rolled his eyes. He knew she was right. That didn’t mean he liked it, though. “Fine. I hope you know what you’re doing, but I guess I have to wait to find out.”
He exited the TARDIS and returned to his desk. He needed to clear off the dinner plates and get back to grading. At least he understood why the article had bothered him so much.
Several weeks later, Nardole again left a paper with his dinner. This time, there was a report of mandatory inoculations against a terrible strain of Indonesian flu. The Doctor sighed and pulled a hand down his face. He still wasn’t sure he had done the right thing.
Nardole caught the gesture and spoke before he left the room. “Do you want to talk about it?”
The Doctor shook his head. “Nothing to talk about.”
“Sure, there is. I leave an article about a flu for you to read and a couple of weeks later, there’s an inoculation call.”
“I had nothing to do with it.”
“Come on, Doctor, nothing?”
The Doctor shook his head. “Not this time. This time, it was all Torchwood.”
Nardole hummed. “Jack Harkness. You didn’t even help him?”
The Doctor shrugged. “I called him to give a nudge in the right direction. But he promised to take retcon afterwards. So, it was all him."
Nardole hummed disbelievingly. The Doctor shrugged. “This is only the beginning. It was the groundwork for something much worse that will happen in the future. And when it does, I expect you to take full responsibility for involving me now.”
Nardole frowned in confusion. “Will it be that bad?”
“Probably worse, but you’ll have to wait.”
Nardole nodded, still confused, but he left the Doctor in peace.