Fic: The Year That Never Was (Magnificent 7/Doctor Who) Teen
Title: The Year That Never Was
Prompt: 070-Storm
Pairing: Vin/Chris
Fandoms: Doctor Who/Magnificent 7
Summary: Snapshots of the year that never was with Timelord!Vin and Torchwood 4 (the missing one).
Notes: Not betaed because I'm impatient. Constructive criticism welcome. Epilogue from Jack's POV to follow at some point.
Vin remembers The Year That Never Was - in his mind it takes on capitals and echoes like screams - in snapshots of terror and pain, interspersed with the briefest moments of camaraderie and something that might have been love.
…
Two months into the end of the world and Vin’s heading down to Denver. There are times when despair weighs heavily on him and he wishes he’d gone with Ford. He survives only because of his training and the pocket watch - it doesn’t hide him exactly, but it makes people, and especially Toclafane, overlook him.
Humanity is falling fast. If not to the Toclafane and the work camps, then to disease and starvation. Most of the east coast is wasteland - the result of a failed attempt at retaliation. He hears whispers of something similar happening to Japan.
Vin needs hope, even the barest hint of a rumour; a group of men mounting a rebellion. Vin’s learnt a lot about people in the past months, about human nature. Some of it breaks his heart, but some buoys his rather abused faith, and he needs this rumor to be true.
He’s scrounging through the dregs of a convenience store, looking for anything that might not have spoiled yet. Generally cereal and dried fruit are mostly alright, but tinned food, a rare and valuable commodity these days, is a treasure beyond comparison.
He’s in the back of the store when he hears the first crash of something knocked to the ground. Not long after that there’s the sound of a scuffle. There is only a moment when he considers finding a back way out and ignoring the situation, but he has not given up on humanity that much.
He approaches slowly and draws his gun from his shoulder holster. Bullets are in short supply, too, but he’s not going to let that stop him from doing the right thing. He eases around a corner and catches his first sight of the group of men creating the commotion. They’re raiders and looters - Vin’s learnt to recognise the type - surrounding a single man backed into a corner of the store, protecting what few supplies he’s managed to gather.
It doesn’t look like they have anything more sophisticated than knives, bats and crude planks of wood, which might mean he can actually intimidate them into leaving. He raises his gun steadily and steps out into the open.
“Reckon it’s time for you all to be leaving now,” he says evenly. Most of the men turn, but some still remain focused on their victim, and especially the food.
“Don’t you know,” one of the men tells him, “it’s the end of the world. There aren’t any heroes left.”
“Maybe there’s one. Or maybe that’s the first food I’ve seen in days and I’m willing to kill as many of you as I have to, to get at it.”
Some of the men waver. They don’t like this new world filled with mad men and desperation, but they aren’t willing to die either. Their leader isn’t so cautious.
“There’s more of us than you.”
“True, but I reckon I can shoot at least four of you before you bring me down, and he,” Vin gestured vaguely at the guarding his supplies, “has a knife. I imagine he’d be willing to go after the rest of you on the off chance that I’ll side with him.”
The other man seemed to straighten his shoulders at that, Vin’s appearance and reaction bolstering him.
“I figure it’s better to try my luck against one man than many,” he says. Vin smirks.
It doesn’t take long for the men to clear out, even if they’re practically dragging their leader, and Vin and the other man are appraising each other.
“I’m Nathan,” he says, sliding his knife into a sheath concealed against his wrist. He holds out his hand. Vin hesitates a moment before holstering his gun and shaking Nathan’s hand. “You know,” Nathan starts, “there’s a group of us holed up east of here. We could always use another capable body.”
If nothing else, Vin decides, someone associated with Nathan’s group might be able to point him in the right direction. At best, they might be exactly what he’s looking for. He nods briefly and moves to help Nathan carry the supplies out to his truck.
…
Vin isn’t sure what he expects from “there’s a group of us holed up”, but this certainly isn’t it. They drive a little way out of town, to what looks like a mostly abandoned ranch, and into a barn. Vin is surprised that it survived the initial Toclafane attack, but maybe it’s something they found later, or maybe they stumbled on some way to protect themselves.
It’s not until Nathan opens a trapdoor in the floor and a set of stainless steel stairs lead to a perfectly white corridor and gleaming elevator that Vin suspects not all is as it seems. Nathan catches his hesitation and smiles encouragingly.
“Wait until you see the rest.”
Vin’s not sure what might await him if he follows Nathan into the elevator, but he knows what’s out there. He steps forward and Nathan claps him warmly on the shoulder before pressing a sequence of buttons Vin can’t quite catch.
They stand in silence while the elevator descends. It’s a short trip; over before the silence can become uncomfortable. Nathan steps out and, after a moment to steel himself, Vin follows. He steps up to a railing that overlooks a large, open area, filled with people and the detritus of human living; cots and mattresses, piles of clothing, a few scattered toys.
“Looks like fresh meat,” a tall, mustached man jokes.
“Leave the poor boy alone. He must be exhausted,” an older woman scolds.
“Welcome to Torchwood 4,” Nathan says with a flourish, cutting off any other remarks the residents might make, but Vin can’t spare a glance for what must be an impressive facility. His gaze is caught by the hazel-green eyes of a man dressed all in black.
…
Five months into the end of the world and Vin and Chris are passing a bottle of whiskey between them. He sits shoulder to shoulder with the other man, the warmth of the computer core doing nothing to ease the chill in his bones. It’s the only private place left in the facility, and Chris can’t afford to let them see him mourn, not when they need him strong.
Nathan and Buck are dead. JD barely got back with the supplies they’d gone scavenging for, a small child clutching at his pants leg. It doesn’t seem worth it. The supplies are gone all too quickly and the child dies of a fever they weren’t able to cure.
Nathan would have been able to.
“It’s all gone to hell and there’s nothing we can do about it,” Chris says. Vin doesn’t respond. There’s nothing he can say. He rests a hand on Chris’s thigh and squeezes. Chris takes rests his hand over Vin’s and they sit in silence for a long moment.
“I don’t know what I’d do,” Chris starts, but trails off before he can finish. He turns to Vin and waits until Vin turns to look at him as well. A strong, calloused hand curls around the nape of his neck and tangles in his hair. The other entwines his fingers and tugs at his hand to pull him closer. Chris’s breath smells strongly of alcohol for the brief moment before his lips press firmly to Vin’s.
…
Vin wonders if Chris will regret this in the morning, if he’ll even remember it, but for now it’s enough to take this comfort. There’s little enough of it to go around at the moment, anyway.
He stays awake, all night, because he doesn’t want to miss a moment of it. There’s no telling how long he’ll have to use the memory to get him through the worst of life after Saxon and he and Chris have never really discussed what might be happening between them. Things are so uncertain anyway, that even if they grab it with both hands there’s no telling how long they’ll survive, how long they’ll be able to keep it.
When the lights begin to brighten, the only indication of any sort of day/night cycle they get underground, Vin tries to disentangle himself from Chris. He has duties he needs to get to, weapons he needs to make sure are battle ready. Chris’s arm tightens around him and pulls him back against him.
“Where you going?” Chris murmurs without opening his eyes.
“I’ve got things to do,” Vin tells him quietly, knowing that the hangover will be well in effect.
“Dinner?” Chris asks.
“Dinner?”
“You ‘n me,” Chris says and he squints his eyes open enough to kiss Vin softly on the mouth before releasing him.
“I’ll bring you some coffee,” Vin offers, but Chris is already back asleep. He smiles fondly down at the man and makes a note to check in on him before lunch anyway.
…
Seven months into the end of the world and they’ve since lost Josiah, and Nettie too, but it’s experienced through a half-numb haze, like everything else. There’s been too much loss, too much pain, too much struggle, and it’s unremitting. There’s only so much they can take.
It’s early morning and they’re in bed, but neither man is asleep. Chris is curled around him, arm wrapped around his middle. Vin is staring at the small, gold pocket watch on the dresser, wondering if he should tell Chris.
“There’s something wrong with me,” he blurts out and it’s the first time he’s ever really admitted it.
“It’s okay,” Chris murmurs into the back of his neck and presses a kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”
“You knew?” Vin asks, and he tries to turn to look at Chris, but Chris holds him close and he can’t.
“You know things you probably shouldn’t, you sometimes have insight into people that borders on psychic,” Chris tells him plainly. Tension coils in his muscles, and he wants to jump out of bed, wants to confront Chris about it, deny it, but he can’t. “And sometimes, when we lie just like this,” Chris says, and he presses firmly against Vin’s back, his hand moving to the centre of Vin’s chest. “I think I can feel two hearts beating.”
“Oh.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he repeats. The unknown of it gnaws at Vin’s mind and he lets Chris distract him because there’s nothing else he can do.
…
Ten months into the end of the world and Vin meets the woman who might be able to save it. Her name is Martha and she’s traveled the world on a mission.
They smuggle her into the barn in the dead of night and down the elevator. She treats the ill that she can, food becomes more limited every day and getting enough clean water, even in their facility, is a nightmare. They only have power because Orin Travis, the only surviving member of the original Torchwood 4, hooked up some alien tech. Still, it’s better than the work camps where everyone is worked until they can’t work anymore and Saxon doesn’t care how many die.
When she has a moment, Martha sits with them and tells them a story. It’s a marvelous story, filled with hope and courage, and Vin wants to believe it, but it’s the end of the world and no one believes anything anymore.
She can’t stay for long, a few weeks at the most. Long enough to tell her story, treat those she can, and resupply with what she can for the next leg of her journey. She’s going on to Florida and then catching a boat back to England. She tells them it’s almost over, just a few more months, but that seems like lifetimes to Vin.
It’s not long into her stay when she sees his pocket watch. She pales at the sight of it and stumbles back from him.
“What is it?” he asks. He’s tired of not knowing, of being afraid of what he is. Ford seemed in awe, but it’s never seemed anything but painful and horrifying to Vin.
“Nothing,” she says too quickly, “its nothing.”
“What is this?” he asks, holding up the watch. “What am I?”
“It’s just a broken watch.” She won’t say anything more and he can’t push her because there are too many other things to focus on and Chris does seem to think she has a chance, though they’re both sure that her plan has nothing to do with the parts of a gun scattered across the world. Still, she’s wary of him now. She keeps him in sight and she never relaxes if he’s in the room.
Vin wonders if he’s as broken as the watch.
JD dies two weeks later. An infection they didn’t have the medicine to fight off even with Martha’s medical expertise. It’s just Vin and Chris and Ezra now. He doesn’t know how they’ll survive. Their small pocket of humanity has dwindled to just them and Inez and a handful of others, and even Inez is sick now too.
…
Eleven months into the end of the world and Vin meets the man responsible for it all. They’ve arranged for Martha to take a ship back to England, if she can get to Miami - she assures them that she can, that she’ll be safe - when they’re attacked. Chris falls almost immediately, taking a shot meant for him. The facility falls fast. Vin can only assume that someone betrayed them in the hopes of being spared. It’s enough for Martha to get away.
If that isn’t enough, Vin isn’t sure he cares anymore.
He’s crouched beside Chris, Chris’s head in his lap, when they find him. He doesn’t bother to struggle. There’s nothing left to struggle for. He expects the Toclafane to end him as quickly as they did everyone else, but it seems Saxon came in person for the destruction of Torchwood 4. Vin refuses to call him Master, even in his own head.
He’s pulled to his feet by ex-UNIT soldiers. Vin sneers at them and his anger fuels a flurry of hits that knock several down and break more than one bone before he’s subdued. It’s not enough to avenge what’s happened to his brothers, to Chris. It’ll never be enough.
Saxon grabs his chin and forces Vin to meet his eyes. There’s the feeling of fingertips sliding along the inside of his skull and he flinches away.
“Oh, but aren’t you interesting,” Saxon says. The need for answers is an ache he can’t sooth, but he refuses to give in to this man, to submit in any way. He wouldn’t be able to trust the answers anyway.
“I’m going to keep you all to myself,” Saxon says, gently brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. Vin shudders. “At least until New Gallifrey has risen.”
…
“Now you stay nice and safe down here,” Saxon tells him, “away from all those nasty humans, while I sort out somewhere more permanent for you.” He pats Vin on the head and Vin tries to bite at his hand but is too slow and too far away. “There, there,” Saxon says patronizingly, “be a good tot. It’s only the first day and I’d hate to have to punish you.” Saxon glances in the chained man’s direction. “The Freak knows what happens to bad little boys, doesn’t he.”
The chained man glares at Saxon, but doesn’t reply. Vin feels a sense of kinship with him already. Saxon turns and strides down the passage without looking back. The screaming chasm in the back of his head, that he tries so hard not to think about, has eased since he’s come aboard the Valiant, which is strange, because he doesn’t think he’s ever been in more danger.
“Name’s Jack,” the grubby man says when Saxon is well out of sight. There are rends in his dirty white t-shirt, and dark stains that must be blood, edging them, but the man seems uninjured. “Captain Jack Harkness,” he adds with a shadow of smile. There’s something comforting about the Captain’s presence. He’s solid and real - more real than anything else - and Vin simply sits back, watching him.
“Vin,” he says in return.
“So what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” Jack asks. It doesn’t look like Jack’s had much in the way of company for a while, other than Saxon, and Vin doesn’t know if he’ll survive this, and he doesn’t want his brothers to be forgotten.
“I met an alien from Arcateen V,” Vin tells him. “He called himself Ford.”
...
Twelve months into the end of the world and Vin hasn’t seen anyone but Saxon for weeks. He treats Vin like a pet, patting him on the head and rewarding him when Saxon thinks he’s done well.
Vin dreads his visits, which thankfully grow less frequent as his deadline for universal domination looms, because every time Saxon comes to see him, he slips into his mind with the feeling of fingers sinking into his brain. It’s not like Ford, not at all. It’s an invasion, a violation. Saxon leaves a residue, like the double tap of a dual heartbeat that underscores all of Vin’s thoughts these days and the yawning abyss of madness that festers at the edge of his mind until he’s terrified to sleep.
Saxon’s taken the pocket watch. Vin doesn’t know where he keeps it. And that, Vin thinks, worries him more than anything else.
He wonders about Martha and Jack, but Jack he can feel, even separated as they are. Jack is like a rock in a stream, he remains unmoved, untouched, and Vin desperately holds onto that feeling while Saxon slithers around his mind. Sometimes, he thinks it’s the only thing that keeps him sane.
…
When it’s all over, Vin is eventually let out of his cell by one of the soldiers. Apparently Saxon is dead, none of it happened, and the soldiers have decided not to be traitors, even if it did and they are.
So, twelve months into the end of the world and the day it began all at once, Vin contemplates finding Jack, if he survived. The soldiers say Jack’s fine, but Vin knows no one is. Apparently, the Doctor saved the world and took Jack and Martha with him and Vin’s glad to hear she survived too, that she succeeded in the mission Chris gave his life for, even if he didn’t.
He can’t find the pocket watch.
“Sir,” one of the soldiers begins a little hesitantly. He looks barely out of his teens. “We need to debrief you. We can do it here or down on land, if you prefer. No one’s really wanted to stay here longer than necessary.” He gets a far-off look in his eyes.
Vin nods. It’s chaotic enough that he can slip away from them. He’s had enough of this whole thing and he just wants to forget, wants it not to have happened, wants to have not been on this damn ship so that he has to be one of the ones who remembers.
“Good,” the soldier says. “I mean, not good, but just… this way, sir.”
Vin wonders if he was one of the soldiers there when Chris died. He follows anyway.
…
Vin remembers The Year That Never Was - in his mind it takes on capitals and echoes like screams - in snapshots of terror and pain, interspersed with the briefest moments of camaraderie and something that might have been love.
But, like a particularly vivid nightmare he can’t quite shake, it never really happened. Saxon is dead. Chris is alive. Chris is probably scowling and drinking too much and investigating aliens with his brothers-in-arms. Chris, who never kissed him, never made love to him, never even met him, and Vin can’t forget.
Prompt: 070-Storm
Pairing: Vin/Chris
Fandoms: Doctor Who/Magnificent 7
Summary: Snapshots of the year that never was with Timelord!Vin and Torchwood 4 (the missing one).
Notes: Not betaed because I'm impatient. Constructive criticism welcome. Epilogue from Jack's POV to follow at some point.
Vin remembers The Year That Never Was - in his mind it takes on capitals and echoes like screams - in snapshots of terror and pain, interspersed with the briefest moments of camaraderie and something that might have been love.
…
Two months into the end of the world and Vin’s heading down to Denver. There are times when despair weighs heavily on him and he wishes he’d gone with Ford. He survives only because of his training and the pocket watch - it doesn’t hide him exactly, but it makes people, and especially Toclafane, overlook him.
Humanity is falling fast. If not to the Toclafane and the work camps, then to disease and starvation. Most of the east coast is wasteland - the result of a failed attempt at retaliation. He hears whispers of something similar happening to Japan.
Vin needs hope, even the barest hint of a rumour; a group of men mounting a rebellion. Vin’s learnt a lot about people in the past months, about human nature. Some of it breaks his heart, but some buoys his rather abused faith, and he needs this rumor to be true.
He’s scrounging through the dregs of a convenience store, looking for anything that might not have spoiled yet. Generally cereal and dried fruit are mostly alright, but tinned food, a rare and valuable commodity these days, is a treasure beyond comparison.
He’s in the back of the store when he hears the first crash of something knocked to the ground. Not long after that there’s the sound of a scuffle. There is only a moment when he considers finding a back way out and ignoring the situation, but he has not given up on humanity that much.
He approaches slowly and draws his gun from his shoulder holster. Bullets are in short supply, too, but he’s not going to let that stop him from doing the right thing. He eases around a corner and catches his first sight of the group of men creating the commotion. They’re raiders and looters - Vin’s learnt to recognise the type - surrounding a single man backed into a corner of the store, protecting what few supplies he’s managed to gather.
It doesn’t look like they have anything more sophisticated than knives, bats and crude planks of wood, which might mean he can actually intimidate them into leaving. He raises his gun steadily and steps out into the open.
“Reckon it’s time for you all to be leaving now,” he says evenly. Most of the men turn, but some still remain focused on their victim, and especially the food.
“Don’t you know,” one of the men tells him, “it’s the end of the world. There aren’t any heroes left.”
“Maybe there’s one. Or maybe that’s the first food I’ve seen in days and I’m willing to kill as many of you as I have to, to get at it.”
Some of the men waver. They don’t like this new world filled with mad men and desperation, but they aren’t willing to die either. Their leader isn’t so cautious.
“There’s more of us than you.”
“True, but I reckon I can shoot at least four of you before you bring me down, and he,” Vin gestured vaguely at the guarding his supplies, “has a knife. I imagine he’d be willing to go after the rest of you on the off chance that I’ll side with him.”
The other man seemed to straighten his shoulders at that, Vin’s appearance and reaction bolstering him.
“I figure it’s better to try my luck against one man than many,” he says. Vin smirks.
It doesn’t take long for the men to clear out, even if they’re practically dragging their leader, and Vin and the other man are appraising each other.
“I’m Nathan,” he says, sliding his knife into a sheath concealed against his wrist. He holds out his hand. Vin hesitates a moment before holstering his gun and shaking Nathan’s hand. “You know,” Nathan starts, “there’s a group of us holed up east of here. We could always use another capable body.”
If nothing else, Vin decides, someone associated with Nathan’s group might be able to point him in the right direction. At best, they might be exactly what he’s looking for. He nods briefly and moves to help Nathan carry the supplies out to his truck.
…
Vin isn’t sure what he expects from “there’s a group of us holed up”, but this certainly isn’t it. They drive a little way out of town, to what looks like a mostly abandoned ranch, and into a barn. Vin is surprised that it survived the initial Toclafane attack, but maybe it’s something they found later, or maybe they stumbled on some way to protect themselves.
It’s not until Nathan opens a trapdoor in the floor and a set of stainless steel stairs lead to a perfectly white corridor and gleaming elevator that Vin suspects not all is as it seems. Nathan catches his hesitation and smiles encouragingly.
“Wait until you see the rest.”
Vin’s not sure what might await him if he follows Nathan into the elevator, but he knows what’s out there. He steps forward and Nathan claps him warmly on the shoulder before pressing a sequence of buttons Vin can’t quite catch.
They stand in silence while the elevator descends. It’s a short trip; over before the silence can become uncomfortable. Nathan steps out and, after a moment to steel himself, Vin follows. He steps up to a railing that overlooks a large, open area, filled with people and the detritus of human living; cots and mattresses, piles of clothing, a few scattered toys.
“Looks like fresh meat,” a tall, mustached man jokes.
“Leave the poor boy alone. He must be exhausted,” an older woman scolds.
“Welcome to Torchwood 4,” Nathan says with a flourish, cutting off any other remarks the residents might make, but Vin can’t spare a glance for what must be an impressive facility. His gaze is caught by the hazel-green eyes of a man dressed all in black.
…
Five months into the end of the world and Vin and Chris are passing a bottle of whiskey between them. He sits shoulder to shoulder with the other man, the warmth of the computer core doing nothing to ease the chill in his bones. It’s the only private place left in the facility, and Chris can’t afford to let them see him mourn, not when they need him strong.
Nathan and Buck are dead. JD barely got back with the supplies they’d gone scavenging for, a small child clutching at his pants leg. It doesn’t seem worth it. The supplies are gone all too quickly and the child dies of a fever they weren’t able to cure.
Nathan would have been able to.
“It’s all gone to hell and there’s nothing we can do about it,” Chris says. Vin doesn’t respond. There’s nothing he can say. He rests a hand on Chris’s thigh and squeezes. Chris takes rests his hand over Vin’s and they sit in silence for a long moment.
“I don’t know what I’d do,” Chris starts, but trails off before he can finish. He turns to Vin and waits until Vin turns to look at him as well. A strong, calloused hand curls around the nape of his neck and tangles in his hair. The other entwines his fingers and tugs at his hand to pull him closer. Chris’s breath smells strongly of alcohol for the brief moment before his lips press firmly to Vin’s.
…
Vin wonders if Chris will regret this in the morning, if he’ll even remember it, but for now it’s enough to take this comfort. There’s little enough of it to go around at the moment, anyway.
He stays awake, all night, because he doesn’t want to miss a moment of it. There’s no telling how long he’ll have to use the memory to get him through the worst of life after Saxon and he and Chris have never really discussed what might be happening between them. Things are so uncertain anyway, that even if they grab it with both hands there’s no telling how long they’ll survive, how long they’ll be able to keep it.
When the lights begin to brighten, the only indication of any sort of day/night cycle they get underground, Vin tries to disentangle himself from Chris. He has duties he needs to get to, weapons he needs to make sure are battle ready. Chris’s arm tightens around him and pulls him back against him.
“Where you going?” Chris murmurs without opening his eyes.
“I’ve got things to do,” Vin tells him quietly, knowing that the hangover will be well in effect.
“Dinner?” Chris asks.
“Dinner?”
“You ‘n me,” Chris says and he squints his eyes open enough to kiss Vin softly on the mouth before releasing him.
“I’ll bring you some coffee,” Vin offers, but Chris is already back asleep. He smiles fondly down at the man and makes a note to check in on him before lunch anyway.
…
Seven months into the end of the world and they’ve since lost Josiah, and Nettie too, but it’s experienced through a half-numb haze, like everything else. There’s been too much loss, too much pain, too much struggle, and it’s unremitting. There’s only so much they can take.
It’s early morning and they’re in bed, but neither man is asleep. Chris is curled around him, arm wrapped around his middle. Vin is staring at the small, gold pocket watch on the dresser, wondering if he should tell Chris.
“There’s something wrong with me,” he blurts out and it’s the first time he’s ever really admitted it.
“It’s okay,” Chris murmurs into the back of his neck and presses a kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”
“You knew?” Vin asks, and he tries to turn to look at Chris, but Chris holds him close and he can’t.
“You know things you probably shouldn’t, you sometimes have insight into people that borders on psychic,” Chris tells him plainly. Tension coils in his muscles, and he wants to jump out of bed, wants to confront Chris about it, deny it, but he can’t. “And sometimes, when we lie just like this,” Chris says, and he presses firmly against Vin’s back, his hand moving to the centre of Vin’s chest. “I think I can feel two hearts beating.”
“Oh.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he repeats. The unknown of it gnaws at Vin’s mind and he lets Chris distract him because there’s nothing else he can do.
…
Ten months into the end of the world and Vin meets the woman who might be able to save it. Her name is Martha and she’s traveled the world on a mission.
They smuggle her into the barn in the dead of night and down the elevator. She treats the ill that she can, food becomes more limited every day and getting enough clean water, even in their facility, is a nightmare. They only have power because Orin Travis, the only surviving member of the original Torchwood 4, hooked up some alien tech. Still, it’s better than the work camps where everyone is worked until they can’t work anymore and Saxon doesn’t care how many die.
When she has a moment, Martha sits with them and tells them a story. It’s a marvelous story, filled with hope and courage, and Vin wants to believe it, but it’s the end of the world and no one believes anything anymore.
She can’t stay for long, a few weeks at the most. Long enough to tell her story, treat those she can, and resupply with what she can for the next leg of her journey. She’s going on to Florida and then catching a boat back to England. She tells them it’s almost over, just a few more months, but that seems like lifetimes to Vin.
It’s not long into her stay when she sees his pocket watch. She pales at the sight of it and stumbles back from him.
“What is it?” he asks. He’s tired of not knowing, of being afraid of what he is. Ford seemed in awe, but it’s never seemed anything but painful and horrifying to Vin.
“Nothing,” she says too quickly, “its nothing.”
“What is this?” he asks, holding up the watch. “What am I?”
“It’s just a broken watch.” She won’t say anything more and he can’t push her because there are too many other things to focus on and Chris does seem to think she has a chance, though they’re both sure that her plan has nothing to do with the parts of a gun scattered across the world. Still, she’s wary of him now. She keeps him in sight and she never relaxes if he’s in the room.
Vin wonders if he’s as broken as the watch.
JD dies two weeks later. An infection they didn’t have the medicine to fight off even with Martha’s medical expertise. It’s just Vin and Chris and Ezra now. He doesn’t know how they’ll survive. Their small pocket of humanity has dwindled to just them and Inez and a handful of others, and even Inez is sick now too.
…
Eleven months into the end of the world and Vin meets the man responsible for it all. They’ve arranged for Martha to take a ship back to England, if she can get to Miami - she assures them that she can, that she’ll be safe - when they’re attacked. Chris falls almost immediately, taking a shot meant for him. The facility falls fast. Vin can only assume that someone betrayed them in the hopes of being spared. It’s enough for Martha to get away.
If that isn’t enough, Vin isn’t sure he cares anymore.
He’s crouched beside Chris, Chris’s head in his lap, when they find him. He doesn’t bother to struggle. There’s nothing left to struggle for. He expects the Toclafane to end him as quickly as they did everyone else, but it seems Saxon came in person for the destruction of Torchwood 4. Vin refuses to call him Master, even in his own head.
He’s pulled to his feet by ex-UNIT soldiers. Vin sneers at them and his anger fuels a flurry of hits that knock several down and break more than one bone before he’s subdued. It’s not enough to avenge what’s happened to his brothers, to Chris. It’ll never be enough.
Saxon grabs his chin and forces Vin to meet his eyes. There’s the feeling of fingertips sliding along the inside of his skull and he flinches away.
“Oh, but aren’t you interesting,” Saxon says. The need for answers is an ache he can’t sooth, but he refuses to give in to this man, to submit in any way. He wouldn’t be able to trust the answers anyway.
“I’m going to keep you all to myself,” Saxon says, gently brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. Vin shudders. “At least until New Gallifrey has risen.”
…
“Now you stay nice and safe down here,” Saxon tells him, “away from all those nasty humans, while I sort out somewhere more permanent for you.” He pats Vin on the head and Vin tries to bite at his hand but is too slow and too far away. “There, there,” Saxon says patronizingly, “be a good tot. It’s only the first day and I’d hate to have to punish you.” Saxon glances in the chained man’s direction. “The Freak knows what happens to bad little boys, doesn’t he.”
The chained man glares at Saxon, but doesn’t reply. Vin feels a sense of kinship with him already. Saxon turns and strides down the passage without looking back. The screaming chasm in the back of his head, that he tries so hard not to think about, has eased since he’s come aboard the Valiant, which is strange, because he doesn’t think he’s ever been in more danger.
“Name’s Jack,” the grubby man says when Saxon is well out of sight. There are rends in his dirty white t-shirt, and dark stains that must be blood, edging them, but the man seems uninjured. “Captain Jack Harkness,” he adds with a shadow of smile. There’s something comforting about the Captain’s presence. He’s solid and real - more real than anything else - and Vin simply sits back, watching him.
“Vin,” he says in return.
“So what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” Jack asks. It doesn’t look like Jack’s had much in the way of company for a while, other than Saxon, and Vin doesn’t know if he’ll survive this, and he doesn’t want his brothers to be forgotten.
“I met an alien from Arcateen V,” Vin tells him. “He called himself Ford.”
...
Twelve months into the end of the world and Vin hasn’t seen anyone but Saxon for weeks. He treats Vin like a pet, patting him on the head and rewarding him when Saxon thinks he’s done well.
Vin dreads his visits, which thankfully grow less frequent as his deadline for universal domination looms, because every time Saxon comes to see him, he slips into his mind with the feeling of fingers sinking into his brain. It’s not like Ford, not at all. It’s an invasion, a violation. Saxon leaves a residue, like the double tap of a dual heartbeat that underscores all of Vin’s thoughts these days and the yawning abyss of madness that festers at the edge of his mind until he’s terrified to sleep.
Saxon’s taken the pocket watch. Vin doesn’t know where he keeps it. And that, Vin thinks, worries him more than anything else.
He wonders about Martha and Jack, but Jack he can feel, even separated as they are. Jack is like a rock in a stream, he remains unmoved, untouched, and Vin desperately holds onto that feeling while Saxon slithers around his mind. Sometimes, he thinks it’s the only thing that keeps him sane.
…
When it’s all over, Vin is eventually let out of his cell by one of the soldiers. Apparently Saxon is dead, none of it happened, and the soldiers have decided not to be traitors, even if it did and they are.
So, twelve months into the end of the world and the day it began all at once, Vin contemplates finding Jack, if he survived. The soldiers say Jack’s fine, but Vin knows no one is. Apparently, the Doctor saved the world and took Jack and Martha with him and Vin’s glad to hear she survived too, that she succeeded in the mission Chris gave his life for, even if he didn’t.
He can’t find the pocket watch.
“Sir,” one of the soldiers begins a little hesitantly. He looks barely out of his teens. “We need to debrief you. We can do it here or down on land, if you prefer. No one’s really wanted to stay here longer than necessary.” He gets a far-off look in his eyes.
Vin nods. It’s chaotic enough that he can slip away from them. He’s had enough of this whole thing and he just wants to forget, wants it not to have happened, wants to have not been on this damn ship so that he has to be one of the ones who remembers.
“Good,” the soldier says. “I mean, not good, but just… this way, sir.”
Vin wonders if he was one of the soldiers there when Chris died. He follows anyway.
…
Vin remembers The Year That Never Was - in his mind it takes on capitals and echoes like screams - in snapshots of terror and pain, interspersed with the briefest moments of camaraderie and something that might have been love.
But, like a particularly vivid nightmare he can’t quite shake, it never really happened. Saxon is dead. Chris is alive. Chris is probably scowling and drinking too much and investigating aliens with his brothers-in-arms. Chris, who never kissed him, never made love to him, never even met him, and Vin can’t forget.