Title: Spectre of the Past
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Ten.5
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 2
Prompt: 97, Enemies
Author's Note: The human version of the Doctor is being referred to as John Smith in this fic, since it's the Doctor's human alias and his clone needed a name.
Author's Note: Spoilers for Journey's End, somewhat. This is an completely alternate take on the ending of Season Four.
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor, or his human clone. Please do not sue.

***

The Doctor sat up, gingerly touching a hand to the back of his head. He hated those damned devices that allowed time agents to travel in the way they did -- he should be used to them by now, but they always gave him a horrid headache, and the sense of displacement they made him feel did nothing to sweeten his temper.

He wasn't sure how he'd gotten here -- he'd told himself that he wasn't going to look for trouble, but somehow, it always seemed to find him. And now, he had his human clone -- John -- with him. Someone to protect, to keep safe from any sort of danger.

Strange how he'd never felt this protective towards any of his former companions. Of course, he'd wanted them to be safe -- but not with the fervor that he protected John with. This man was more dear to him than anyone had ever been -- anyone in all of his incarnations.

Of course, that was because John was a part of him, in so many ways that he couldn't begin to enumerate them all. Thankfully, the other man was safely in the Tardis, away from any harm. At least, the Doctor sincerely hoped that he was.

He'd told John not to leave the ship, that he would be back as quickly as he could. He hadn't counted on running into someone that he hadn't wanted to see, someone who he knew he'd have to be careful with and try to ease himself away from. Someone who could be as cold and calculating as the Master.

John Hart.

He almost winced when he thought of the name. He didn't really this man -- well, not from more than a few barbed words and a brief acquaintance. But he knew that this Captain was dangerously obsessed with Jack -- and that he considered the Doctor an enemy because he still, for some reason, thought that the Time Lord had "taken Jack away from him."

Rubbish, the Doctor thought, scowling, then wincing when the expression made his head hurt even more. He'd done no such thing. Jack had chosen to come with him for the time they'd been together. He hadn't forced the immortal into doing anything he didn't want.

But Hart would never see it that way. In his eyes, the Doctor was a usurper, and he was apparently jealous of every touch, every word that the Time Lord had shared with Jack when they'd been a couple. This spectre from the past couldn't see beyond that.

And now -- he'd been brought here, to what appeared to be some desolate, lonely place. At least they were alone, he thought, getting to his feet slowly and dusting off his trenchcoat. There would be no one around to hear the accusations that he was sure the other man would level at him.

He had no idea why Hart had brought him to this place, or what the other man wanted with him. Maybe he'd simply become tired of waiting for their paths to cross again, and had decided to take matters into his own hands. It wouldn't surprise the Doctor; he was well aware of the vendetta that this man had against him.

Still, it had been an unexpected and unpleasant surprise to feel Hart's hand over his mouth when he'd turned the corner and entered the alleyway that he'd left the Tardis in. And an even more unpleasant surprise to feel the disorientation that meant Hart was transporting them to wherever this place was.

"Well, Doctor. We meet again. And this time, on my ground. No one around to help you. No one to hear you plead for mercy, if I decide to make you do it."

He whirled around, his eyes fastening on the tall blond man standing only a few feet away from him. The Doctor's eyes narrowed, his small hands clenching into fists. "Don't bother threatening me, Hart. Just get to the point. Why did you bring me here?"

John Hart shook his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "Now, now, Doctor. Don't be so hasty. We haven't seen each other for a while, you know. Don't you think that we should catch up, find out how we've been doing?" He tilted his head to the side, a sly smile spreading over his face. "Though I have to admit that I know what's been happening with you."

"Oh, you do, do you?" The Doctor raised one eyebrow, determined to stay calm and collected. He wasn't going to let his temper show, not when it seemed that Hart held most of the cards in this game. He'd have to be careful if he wanted to get out of here safely.

"Yes, indeed I do." Hart's smile grew wider as he swept one hand in front of him. "I happen to know that you now have a brand-new companion. A clone of yourself, in fact -- born out of your severed hand! I'd love to know how you managed that. It seems that you're full of surprises."

The Doctor remained silent; he couldn't deny the truth of those words, but the less said about his clone, the better. He didn't want to reveal the other man's name, didn't want to let this dangerous psychotic know more about his human self than was absolutely necessary. And he already seemed to know far more than the Doctor was comfortable with.

"He's human," Hart continued, raising his brows and inclining his head towards the Doctor. "You really do seem to have a penchant for human lovers, don't you, Doctor? First Jack, and now ...." He clicked his tongue against his teeth again, shaking his head. ".... Your own clone! You're a kinky little well of perversion, aren't you?"

"Shut up," the Doctor muttered, regretting the words the moment they were out of his mouth, but unable to keep them back. He hadn't wanted to be goaded into letting his temper rise, and it was already happening. He really needed to learn more self-control.

"Hmmm, maybe I'm wrong." Hart looked confused for a moment, tapping one long finger against his cheek. "Maybe he's not your lover. Maybe you only chose to bring him along with you because you couldn't stand to be alone. After all, that's always your rationale for taking someone with you, isn't it? To alleviate your loneliness."

"I've never forced anyone to come with me," the Doctor ground out through gritted teeth. "Everyone who has, has done so of their own free will. I don't coerce them. I give them the choice to either be with me or not."

"And how did you persuade him, Doctor?" Hart's voice was growing sharper now, a sure sign that his temper was also fraying. "Did you talk him into it with sex? Did you offer him your body? I can't blame him for jumping at that chance. Jack certainly did."

The Doctor was struggling to keep himself from screaming and running at the man; he knew that those words were meant to goad him, and he wasn't going to fall prey to that trap. He'd let Hart say whatever he wanted. They were only words, after all.

"Jack definitely enjoyed your body," Hart said, his eyes narrowing, his gaze sweeping over the Doctor as though he was sizing the other man up. The Time Lord had to resist the urge to cross his hands in front of his body in a vain attempt to cover himself; that gaze was making him feel as if he was being stripped naked.

"Jack and I were lovers by mutual choice," the Doctor said evenly, trying to keep his voice from shaking with anger. How dare this man insinuate that he'd somehow forced Jack to be with him? He'd never do that to anyone. It had been done to him enough in the past. He'd never do that to his worst enemy, let alone someone he cared for.

"I can't say I blame him." The blond man's voice was speculative, his eyes still roaming over the Doctor's body. "If I could fuck someone who looked like you, I'd jump at the chance, too. Maybe I will. I can't help wondering what he'd be like. Since he technically is you, I bet he'd be a fantastic fuck. Especially if he's on the bottom."

The Doctor's small hands clenched into fists in the pockets of his trenchcoat; he had to bite down savagely on his lower lip to keep himself from gasping. There was ony one person who Hart could be referring to in that tone of voice, using those words.

John. His human self. The man he loved.

"Stay away from him," he growled, wishing that he didn't sound so angry. Anger wouldn't win this, he told himself, trying to calm the white-hot press of emotion rising up inside of him. It wouldn't do any good to be impotently enraged. That could only lead to disaster.

"I might. And I might not." Hart strolled to the Doctor's left, then his right. The Time Lord pivoted on his heels, trying to keep the other man in his sights. He didn't want to let Hart get the upper hand in any other way. He was already at enough of a disadvantage.

"If you touch him, I'll kill you," the Doctor warned him, almost feeling dizzy from trying to keep track of Hart's position relative to his own. Maybe the jarring sensation of being transported here had affected him more than he'd thought. It shouldn't have, but there was no telling with Hart. He was feeling slightly disoriented, as though what was happening wasn't quite real.

"No you won't, Doctor." Hart had the audacity to laugh, which only made the Gallifreyan angrier, though he refused to show it. "You don't have the balls. You aren't a killer. That's one thing that Jack made me see. And one thing that I can use against you."

Hart was behind him now, and the Doctor couldn't turn fast enough to keep his eyes on the other man. With a movement as quick as a striking snake, the blond man lunged forward, wrapping one arm around the Doctor's slender waist, the other hand clenching in the Time Lord's hair and pulling his head back until he cried out in pain.

"Watch your step, Doctor," he hissed into the Gallifreyan's ear. "I'm going to turn the tables on you. I'm going to take away the most precious thing in your life, the one thing that you live for the most. I'm going to make you feel the pain of loss. I'm going to take away what you hold most dear. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."

With those words, the rush of disorientation that always came over him when those infernal wrist transporters were used hit the Doctor again, leaving him gasping for breath when he finally raised his head and looked around. He was back in the alley, the familiar blue police box only a few feet away, laying on the ground again.

And his head was aching more than ever. Not surprising.

Getting to his feet, the Doctor supported himself against the wall, leaning against the cold bricks and closing his eyes. Hart hadn't said just what he was going to do -- or when. He'd have to be on his guard, every second of every day. He could strike at any time.

He would have to be very careful not to let John wander too far from him, to try to keep the other man safe at all times. Which wouldn't be easy .... but he would find a way. He wasn't going to risk anything happening to his love. Not now, not ever.

The Doctor made his way slowly to the Tardis, reaching out for the door with a shaking hand. He knew that John would immediately realize that something was wrong, and that the other man would want to know what had happened. He would have to find the words to tell him what had happened without making the situation sound too dire.

But it was. He'd had enough experience with John Hart in the past to know that this man didn't make empty threats. He would be coming after John. And there might not be a way to protect the man he loved from that psychotic wrath.

He'd most certainly made an enemy of John Hart. He'd known that from the first time they'd had occasion to meet. But now, John was caught in the middle of that vendetta -- and he couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to the man he loved.

Well, he would just have to make sure that nothing happened, wouldn't he? The Doctor could almost feel the weight of that responsibility pressing down on him. He had to keep John safe. He had to. No matter what might happen to him, the other man was his first priority.

The Doctor sighed, leaning his head against the wooden door of the Tardis for a few moments before opening the portal. He would just have to hope that everything would work out for the best, though he had the definite feeling that he and John would have to tread warily -- and make sure that they watched each other's backs very, very closely.

***