Full Circle


Chapter 1: Opposing Vectors


Had he known that three simple, little words would accomplish so much, he'd have done this a long time ago. She was his—all he had to do was tell the blonde human (Rose, his memories told him; Rose who the Doctor so painfully loved) exactly what she wanted to hear, and it was done.

So simple, this. Uncomplicated and brilliant, just like the knowledge in tucked away in this part-human, mostly-Time Lord memory of his. Oh, it was brilliant.

And the Doctor, oh, the foolish, well-meaning, so-mournful Doctor had given him exactly what he needed to survive. To carry out his plans. To do everything that needed doing.

There is a little bit of coral resting in his pocket. Just enough to grow a TARDIS. It would take years, but he is patient. Years will also pass before he figures out how to not only breach the void between the universes, but how to also travel back to before the Time War, to do what needs to be done and become himself.

He'd sprung fully-formed into existence, after all. Been created when the so-good Doctor wasn't enough. He is a being formed of war and of battle, one forged to take what was his, consequences be damned. And he will. He'll never been any other type of man, even if he is and will be perfectly happy to use a variety of more subtle methods to achieve his ends.

If the Doctor had any idea what he'd created, he'd have never left the other him with his precious Rose.

The precious Rose that is smiling tentatively at this man who looks like her Doctor. Who even started as a duplicate of her Doctor, but with a little bit of human malice added in to reinvigorate the Time Lord psyche. She wants him so badly, and he'll play along for a little while. Let a few of her dreams come true before he tears them apart.

He has no intention of settling for her forever, after all. There are lives due him, and he intends to take them. He is a full Time Lord, even if he's not a "true" one—he'll readily acknowledge that he's missing some vital bits in terms of physiology and regenerations. But not too many years will pass before he's ready to claim his own.

Upon reflection, it is a pity that the first Doctors he encounters won't know Rose. Otherwise, he'd be sure to show her body to the Doctor after he kills her—a long and painful process that he's planning already, as he smiles and reassures her, and tells her that he's the same as the Doctor, just more human. Just more able to love her.

Perhaps he'll visit this Doctor before he slides into the past. Or perhaps he'll preserve Rose until he encounters a Doctor that knows her, for he already understands that he'll play a part in the Time War and survive it. There's a temptation to change the past, of course (there always is), but he can't jeopardize his own creation now that he knows how it happened.

So, he'll play the prosecutor and try the Doctor. He'll fight valiantly, and lose, and be discovered.

But then he'll slip in quietly and replace the Keeper of the Matrix, lying in wait until it's time to sell out the Time Lords to the Daleks—after all, what do they mean to him? He already knows that they must die for the requisite darkness to awaken in the Doctor, to cause the pain that makes him bitter and angry enough to become something else.

If not for a simple human, the Doctor might have done it himself. He finds it ironic that this Rose preserved timelines unwittingly: she pulled the Doctor back from the edge just in time. And if not for her, there would never have been a failed regeneration, never enough life to pour into that hand and breed something new. Perhaps he should be grateful to her. She's made it all possible.

And she's holding his hand as she smiles so brilliantly up at him. "You need a name, y'know." Her tongue is sticking out slightly from between her teeth, and the Doctor would melt to see her so happy. "You can't just use 'the Doctor' as a human."

He smiles brilliantly at her. "No, I can't, can I? Guess it'd be a wee bit noticeable, that."

"So…John Smith, is it?" Rose asks. "'S what you usually use."

"Valeyard." He squeezes her hand. "John…Valeyard."


Author's Note: This story is complete, so my posting rate should be pretty quick. As always, I would love to know what you think of this labor of love, so please review!