Title: The (Evil) Empire of Scotland
Author: protoplasmica
Pairing: gen
Fandoms: Doctor Who & Torchwood
Rating: R
Summary: Written when the alternate lives prompt was floating around for nostalgia_lj...it's r'ish, AU obviously, and complete. I think. There's a Jack POV floating around somewhere in my subconscious but it needs another prompt to make it work.

***

Jackie has worked Cardiff ever since the London Bombings in ninety-six. She'd arrived with her Rose and three other survivors on the six o'clock train-a handsome American man, a quiet black girl with half of her face burnt off, and a blonde man with massive ears who kept squinting at her funny and rubbing his crotch. The man had eventually introduced himself as 'Harry' and offered her a thousand pounds for Rose-

Something broke inside Jackie when she watched Rose follow the man out of the train and into the night-and since then she's worked tirelessly across Cardiff with her Dad's old laser gun. She shoots anyone who picks up a girl between Splott and the Bay, and if they have blonde hair or big ears she shoots them twice.

She doesn't hope to find Rose-Jackie's worldly enough to know that those kind of fairytales never happen-but one day, she promises herself, she will find that fucker and shoot off his dick.

--

Martha lurks and Ianto watches-it has always been that way. Ever since he came across her during a routine Weevil patrol two years ago, fighting, punching and biting her way out of a fight, he has been mesmerised. Jack thinks it's funny and whispers all kinds of dirty things into Ianto's earpiece as he shivers in the rain. Ianto doesn't listen to him though; he doesn't listen to anyone; he can barely remember to breathe.

Martha has her gun cocked inches from Ianto's face, the smooth side of her face clearly amused, and he feels the first familiar stirrings of desire thrill across his spine.

"Anything I can help you with Mr Jones?" Martha smirks. "Or is this another social visit."

--

The Doctor is as alive as a Time Lord in a paradox machine can be. He drinks tea, tinkers with a few of the controls, stares at the heart of what used to be his Tardis and wonders how something that beautiful could turn so ugly.

Mostly, the Doctor waits. Something big needs to happen, he can feel it, and he needs to be right here (a dirty alley in the Isle of Dogs) to help it along.

***