TOO MANY CARDS
He was trying to read. Or at least, trying to maintain the illusion that he was reading. But the words meant nothing, and he could feel that stare as if her eyes were boring through the pages of the book in his hand. He laid the book down. "Was there something you wanted, Bernice?"
"You're damn right there is." Bernice strode up to him, her arms folded. "Do you have to be such a git, Doctor? No, strike that – do you have to be such a know-it-all git?"
"It comes with the territory, Bernice. You should know that."
"But that doesn't necessarily classify what you do as the right thing, does it?" It was a subject that had been raised many times. They had just left a planet whose dictatorial ruler had been deposed, but not before a terrible loss of life had been incurred. It was this that ate at Bernice – she couldn't reconcile those tragic deaths with the Doctor's apparently calm demeanour. "Goddess, I've worked with some swines in my time, Doctor, but you take the biscuit. We have just saved a world from some vile demonic power crazed idiot."
"Thank you for the compliment, Bernice. I do my best." He resumed the reading of his book.
She held her temper in check – just. "I was, in point of fact, referring to you as the power crazed idiot, Doctor."
The book was lowered. "Ah."
"Is that all you have to say?" Bernice pointed towards their sleeping quarters. "Ace is in her room right now. Oh, she can be hard as nails, I know that. But she hurts too. She's probably crying her eyes out as we speak, and you just sit there and let her get on with it."
The Doctor slammed shut his book. "Bernice, we'll talk about this another time."
He made to rise, but Bernice slammed him back. "Oh no, we bloody won't. We'll talk about this now." She saw the fire in his eyes then, but she held firm. "We've just freed a planet from years of brutal dictatorship. What I hadn't bargained for was the price of that freedom. The appalling loss of life."
"People die, Bernice," the Doctor barked. "It's a fact of life."
"That's as maybe," she said, "but some of those people were our friends. They were relying on us, and we let them down. And for what? Because you had a plan – a great, wonderful plan that would solve everything. And it did – but not before they died as a result."
Before she could stop him the Doctor was out of his chair, marching purposefully away from her. Recovering her wits, she quickly followed him, matching him step for step. "What's the matter, Doctor? Can't we think of a witty rejoinder to that line, eh?" He quickened his pace, but she kept up with him. "No words of wisdom to impart?"
He rounded on her, forcing her to step back. "Stop. Hounding. Me!"
Bernice grabbed him by his coat lapels, shaking him. "Not until you tell Ace what all of this was for, what it all meant – dammit, tell me! Is that such a hard thing for you to do these days?"
The Doctor slumped against her, and she saw tears in his eyes. "How can I," he sobbed. "How can I tell her what it was for, when I don't even know myself?"
Bernice held him in her arms as he wept, shocked by his candid admission. In her determination to make him admit his failings, had she pushed him too far? "You must have realised what would happen," she said. "You're the great manipulator, right?"
"But I didn't see it," he insisted. "I had too many cards in my hand, and I just lost sight of what was important." He pulled himself away from her embrace. "I've always believed that the taking of another life could never be justified, but how can I hold on to that belief when I let that very thing happen?"
Bernice's anger had gone, replaced with concern over the Doctor's anguish. "Look, you're just one man. Okay, you're a Time Lord, but things can get on top of anyone when they least expect it."
"But I should have known," he moaned. "I should have anticipated what would happen."
"How?" Bernice forced him to look at her. "Tell me, Doctor. How could you have known?"
The Doctor looked back at her, his face ashen. "I… I don't know, Benny. Perhaps if I'd…"
"Don't!" She silenced him. "Don't start making excuses if you've nothing solid to base them on. Otherwise you'll start tying yourself in knots – and that's not a pretty sight, I can assure you."
The Doctor pulled out a crumpled handkerchief, blowing his nose with as much dignity as he could muster. "I'm sorry, Bernice. You're right. I'm just a sad old Time Lord who shouldn't be allowed out of his TARDIS."
"Nonsense." She was determined not to let him fall into a state of apathy. "You've just lost your way a bit, that's all. Happens to the best of us. What you need is to relax a bit, before we go tearing off into whatever's waiting for us next." She pulled a flask from her jacket pocket. "Here, have a swig."
The Doctor had recovered much of his composure as he eyed the flask suspiciously. "Is that alcohol?"
Bernice sighed. "For such a know-it-all git, you do ask some daft questions. Of course it's alcohol."
"Just checking." He raised the flask to his lips and drank. He coughed as the liquid caught the back of his throat. "It's very… warming." He took another sip before handing the flask back.
Bernice took a drink herself. "Goddess, that's good stuff. Better than the rubbish they sell on Rigus IV."
But the Doctor was still troubled. "I've been very lax, Benny. I've let you and Ace down, all because I lost sight of what really matters. I need to start thinking more about those around me and how what I do affects them, instead of blocking it all out." He sighed deeply. "'Times' Champion'. It's not a title I wanted, but it seems I'm stuck with it - hanging around my neck, dragging me down."
"You just need to take a step back once in a while," Bernice suggested.
"I suppose so." He looked in the direction of the sleeping quarters, where Ace would be.
Bernice followed his gaze. "Talk to her, Doctor. And be straight with her."
"Yes." He turned and began making his way toward Ace's room. "And thank you, Bernice."
"Anytime. Oh, Doctor?" He looked back at her, quizzically. Bernice smiled at him. "You're still a git, but you'll do."