Becoming Human, Chapter 30

John slammed the doors to the TARDIS so loud he could hear it echoing up to the roof. He angrily slammed a lever down to the console and sent his ship sailing off into the Vortex.

"Damn, damn, damn," he muttered, kicking at the console. "DAMMIT!" The TARDIS grumbled. He sighed. "Sorry, girl."

He shouldn't have done that. He really, really shouldn't have done that. What had he been thinking, anyway? Why was being human so hard? Why were hormones and adrenaline and bad impulse control so difficult to deal with?

If he'd been the Doctor he wouldn't have done it. If the Doctor had been him he would have gently talked Bren out of it and put him to bed in the other room and why why why  hadn't he just thought before he acted?

John ruffled his hair and leaned forward, gripping the console with both hands, head flopping down. Time. No time, out of time, too much time, not enough time, DAMN!

"I have to fix this," he muttered. Jessica's dying words drifted back—forward?—to him.

"You're at all my birthdays. Every single one."

Wait. Wait. If he crossed his own timeline…and stopped himself from attacking Bren…yes, that would work because after all it was a parallel universe and laws were different and time was different and yes, yes! Dangerous and mad and very, very tricky but he could do it because he was the Doctor and nothing was ever going to keep him from his Jessica, not now and not ever.

Quickly, John yanked the bio-thermulator and flicked on the existential nuclear optometron and sent his TARDIS whirling back, back in time and space.

She shrieked in protest, being forced to cross herself. He growled and pushed the ship even further, leaning against the console hard and holding the throttle down as hard as he could, yelling as the time machine shook and trembled and screamed. "Come on!" he shouted, hugging his lean body to the console. "Come on, you brilliant machine! Take me there!"

With a shudder and squeak, the TARDIS landed, and he went flying off the console and to the floor, smacking his head hard against the tile.

"Ow," he muttered, reaching up and feeling blood. No matter now. He had to get out and stop himself.

Quickly he threw the doors open and staggered out, rubbing his head. He was in the guest room, parked in the corner by the closet. His past self was turned around, eyes wide (very wide, good Lord, were his eyes really that big?) and face frightened.

"Don't say a word," John ordered the first John. "Shut up and listen. What time is it?"

"It's almost three." First John's eyes were narrowed now, wary. "You're me. Why have I come back in time to see myself?"

"Because something terrible you're about to do—" John suddenly pressed his hands to his eyes. "Ahhh, God!" Pain shot through his head, pain unrelated to the bumpy landing. "Shit, shit, augh!"

"What, what is it?" First John made to touch him, but he flailed at him.
"No, don't touch me! My—memories are rewriting—and I can't—I can't—ohhhh, ow!" He slumped to the floor.

"It's a paradoxical meeting," said First John. "Your memories will rewrite as I experience the new ones but you'll still have your first ones—you're human now, you bloody idiot! Your brain—our brain—can't handle that!"

"Just—just don't hurt Brendan, okay? When they—come up. Don't hurt him." John rolled over, hitting the bed. "Quick, run in—the TARDIS—my TARDIS—there's the—"

"Temporal relief switch! Big blue button?" First John grinned. "Always wondered why I'd need that. Back in a tick." He darted through the doors of the TARDIS and was back in a second, coughing and waving smoke away. "Oh, she didn't like me. I'm in her wrong places. Seeing me all wrong. Ugh."

"Never mind that, just…" John groaned as a pleasant buzz filled his head, effectively blocking out the pain from his rewritten memories. "Ah, much better. Now." He jumped up and went to the door, First John crowding behind him. "You've got to go out and carefully deal with the situation."

"What situation?"

The door opened and Jessica came in, draped over Brendan and crying. First John made a strangled sort of noise and John shushed him. They watched as the pair progressed to the sofa and Brendan ran his hand up Jessica's leg.

"You can't interfere violently," said John. "You can't. Even though you're really angry right now, really properly angry, you can't go out there. Do you understand me?"

First John was staring past him and out the door. The soft crack of hand on face broke the air like a gunshot.

"Fuck! Jess!"

She was crawling away now, crawling across the carpet; and John hissed through his teeth because he knew what was coming next.

"Oh no you don't," snarled Brendan, and lurched after her.

"MOVE!" snapped First John, and hurled himself past John. John grabbed First John by the sleeve with a strangled hiss of, "NO!" and the two of them crashed into the floor, fighting and scrabbling.

It really was annoying, fighting with yourself, thought John as he flailed and punched. You knew all your own weak spots and strengths and—OW!

First John had landed a punch in the gut, and John got a fistful of hair and yanked, shoving his other self to the carpet and finally holding him down, sitting on his waist and trapping his feet with his own feet.

As he held First John to the carpet, he noticed it was oddly quiet. He looked up, and Brendan was staring at the two of them with the face of someone who had just shoved a fork in a toaster. "What…" he muttered.

Jessica was struggling, good girl. "Get off me!" she shrieked, and landed a fist on Brendan's cheek.

Brendan looked down, realization dawning over shock. "Hey! You've got twin brothers in here or something? Are you cheating on me, Jess?"

"Get off!" Jessica twisted around to the left and saw the two of them, and her face crinkled into an expression of confusion. "John?"

"Hello," said both of them at the same time, identical voices.

Brendan scrambled away. "No, no, no. Not twins. Sweet Christ, what are you?"

Jessica got to her feet. "Get out of my flat," she howled, and swung another fist. It planted right in his stomach and he bent double, moaning.

"I'm going, I'm going," he slurred, and hurried out, swaying a little on the way out.

The door shut, and then, and only then, did John let First John up. "Jessica, are you all right?" they both said in unison. Then they looked at each other and raised their left eyebrows.

"Oh stop that, it's just creepy," said First John.

"I will if you will," said John.

Jessica walked up to them and peered into their faces, closely, touching both of them. "What's going on?" she slurred.

"Later. Let's get you to sleep," said John. "Come on."

"Oi, wait a minute, you've already done this bit," said First John. "I want to—does my hair really look like that from the side?"

"Yes, yes it does," mumbled John, smoothing his hair down with a sideways glare.

"Well—anyway, as I was saying, you've already done this bit, haven't you?" He stepped closer to Jessica. "You can't do it twice. Cheater."

"Well, fine, if you must," said John, and retired to the kitchen, where he petted Spicy and absently thumbed through a cookbook.

"I'm sorry I hit you," sobbed Jessica as First John helped her to her room. "I'm sorry…"

"It's all right, love, it's fine, let's get you cleaned up…"

After about half an hour of reading Italian recipes, John wondered what was going on, and gently opened the door to Jessica's room.

Instantly he wished he had not.

His first impression was the smooth, pale arch and bend of his other self's back as his hips moved in a steady rhythm between Jessica's splayed legs.

"Oh, God," he stammered, unable to look away—because really, what man wouldn't want to see how good he was in bed—and frankly, a little repulsed.

First John stopped moving and turned, gasping for air, teeth bared, eyes wide. "Oh! Ah! Thought you went back to your TARDIS!"

"I didn't even…think about it," said John uncomfortably, increasingly aware of how tight his jeans were. The same jeans that were thrown across the foot of the bed he was looking at. Come to think of it, same shirt too, tossed to the floor.

Jessica sat up, clean and still damp—though maybe that was sweat. "You're both you," she said thickly. Then she smiled and passed out, head softly hitting the pillow and a gentle snore coming from her mouth.

"Well, this is—"

"Awkward," finished First John. He sighed and pulled his knees to his bare chest. "Very, very awkward."

"It shouldn't be. We're each other." John kicked at the carpet. "I can't believe you shagged her. She's drunk. I wouldn't have done that—I didn't do that."

"She wanted me," said First John. "Why, did it turn out different with you?"

"Yeah. With me it was way different. But—you know better than to take advantage—"

"I wasn't taking advantage. She made her intentions quite clear." First John slid out of bed and picked up his pants, his skin ghostly in the dark of the bedroom. "Neither of us even finished, if you want to know."

"Oi!" John felt a blush heat his cheeks. "I don't need to know these things, you!"

"What's with the you? We're both John. Doctor John. You're just in the wrong timeline. I'm where I belong. You're not." First John sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at his groin, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

Those eyebrows…they were bloody ridiculous. Those were the sort of eyebrows that frightened small children; Lord knew how he'd managed to make anyone's acquaintance…)

"You've got a bit of a problem there," said John lightly, looking away—though it was really just him, wasn't it?

"So I do. Shouldn't you head back to your TARDIS?"

"Actually…" John scratched his head sheepishly, "I'm not sure what to do. I've rewritten my timeline. My memories are fogging over. There can't be two of us, can there?"

"No. Well, three of us now, counting, you know. Him."

"Right."

They went quiet.

"There's gonna be two of me now. How do I fix this?"

First John sighed. "Maybe you should have thought of that before you went crossing your own timeline. I'll leave here and—wait. Wait, what about total immersification reversal?"

"Oh, no. No, we're not doing that."

"There's no other option. Otherwise there's gonna be two of us running around. You're future me, and I'm past you. Well, past and to the side a bit. Well—you know."

"We'd need two TARDIS's for TMR." John rubbed a hand through his hair.

"Lucky for you we do. And you're about to say, oh no, it's the same TARDIS, but it's not. Yours has been knocked off sync with mine because of the time streams being crossed. So what do you say?"

John hesitated, sighed, grumbled, ruffled his hair and paced for a minute. "How about we wait till the morning?"

"Why? Jessica will just have to learn about this and as far as I remember she never mentioned there being two of us."

"Good point. So. To the TARDISes it is, and off to execute a very dangerous process it is, and for the love of God before you go out there put your pants on."

"Oh. Right."