A/N: I'd never have believed it if you told me a year ago, but I'm now writing the 4th story in a series! And this from a guy who never finished one to completion before now (except the odd one-shot). The series so far has garnered so much positive attention and I'm very pleased with the result. The entire arc is starting to come together in my head and I think I have a good idea where we're going to end up by the time we're done. If you want to read the whole thing, start with "Harmony", move on to "The Harvesting Darkness" and "Long Goodbyes", and finally read this one, "The Point of Mercy"
Several of you expressed... I'll call it 'surprise' at the end of the last story, because some things happened that should have been impossible according to the canon of the series. You wondered if there was going to be a continuation in this next story that's starting today. Well, yes and no. My goal at the outset of this project was to write a whole new series of Dr Who with my favorite character from Glee as the companion. And just like any series, there's an overall arc developing independent of the individual adventures, like "Bad Wolf" and "Torchwood" and Cracks in the Universe in years past. I'll probably do about 10 stories in total, including a Doctor Lite episode (Like Blink, Turn Left, Love and Monsters) and a Christmas Special. Despite this one starting on Christmas Day, this isn't it... I just knew I wouldn't get around to writing a lot during the shopping season, so I'm giving you this chapter as a Christmas gift, then another one this weekend. Weekly releases will continue from there.
Anyway, the cliffhanger will be resolved, but not right away. There are already a lot of clues and more are coming, so try to figure it out along the way! I'd be really interested to know if anyone has any theories so far.
Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and I hope you all enjoy tonight's episode "The Snowmen"... I'm certainly looking forward to it!
The Doctor closed his eyes and took a deep sniff of the plate that had been set before him. The sweet scent of strawberries and cream was almost too much to bear. "Oh, ho, ho, that's delicious," the Doctor said, biting into a crepe and smiling maniacally. "You have got to try one of these." He offered his plate to Quinn, who looked at it sadly.
"No thanks," she said. "Too rich. Morning sickness. You understand."
He frowned as he sprinkled a dusting of cinnamon over the top of his breakfast. She'd been like this for a couple of days now, moping around the TARDIS and, by extension, everywhere they'd gone. He'd tried everything he could think of to make her happy again, up to and including bringing her here, to Paris, for breakfast, in a small cafe overlooking the Eiffel tower's construction. Nothing seemed to be capable of shattering her melancholy, however. Not the flowers taller than either of them on the solar platform orbiting the first extra-galactic human colony, not the planet that had been forced into an elliptical shape under the pull of two opposite neutron stars, not even the trip to the cinema that only showed adorable kitten videos all day long. It was sickeningly joy-inducing, and she hadn't so much as cracked a smile.
She had reason enough to be upset, he thought as he watched her rest her chin on her palms and sigh. It still hurt to see her stuck in her old patterns, unable to realize that she didn't need anyone else. Not that it wasn't nice to have people around once in awhile, but she had yet to realize that she could find happiness and purpose on her own instead of getting it from other people. It was like she didn't know for sure who she was if she wasn't the head cheerleader, the devoted daughter, or even just... kind of a bitch. Young humans tried on personalities like anyone else tried on pants, true, but none of the personas she'd adopted were anywhere near as vibrant as the real her. The Doctor liked the person she was when she wasn't posturing for anyone else. He wondered if she did as well.
Still, she'd suffered a lot of tragedies lately, not the least of which was losing someone she'd grown attached to recently. The Doctor thought the whole thing had moved a bit too fast, and if truth were to be told he wasn't sure he and Daniel would have hit it off famously anyway. Whether they were too dissimilar or too alike he couldn't say with certainly. It was a load off his mind, actually, but he'd never tell her that. He wanted to see her back to her cheerful self again, more than anything else, and so he'd taken her to all these places, avoiding trouble as much as possible, just to cheer her up. It wasn't working.
The Doctor wasn't just doing all that for her benefit either. He wasn't any better off when they left the Fragaria colony than she was. He was just better at suppressing it. If he stopped, even for a moment, memories of Gallifrey flooded back to him, the latest victims in an endless war with the Daleks. He hated them, more than he'd ever hated anyone or anything. More than he hated himself, he despised the Daleks, and not because of the genocide or the vengeful murders. No, tyrrany was something he could stand proudly against. But the Daleks handn't murdered the Time Lords, or wiped their planet from existence. That would have been bearable. But rather, the Daleks had turned a race of stodgy, old, non-interfering senators into a race that would willingly destroy time itself and every living thing just to live a bit longer.
Locking them away was to save the universe, he told himself over and over again. But it didn't change the fact that his home was gone, forever out of reach. It wasn't the Time Lock that had done it, though; the Gallifrey he knew died a long time back. Looking back was just too hard; looking forward, well... at least whatever pain may come was unknowable, and therefore impossible to dwell upon.
Quinn poked disinterestedly at a scrambled egg, while he took a long sip of his coffee - which was superb, by the way - and sighed. He looked out across the water at the tower, halfway through its construction. By 1889 it would stand majestically over the city, but now, a year earlier, it lacked the iconic sweep of the second tier that it would soon acquire. He turned back to his companion and gave her a long, appraising look.
She looked confused and a little put off by his scrutiny, then seemed to consider it an opportunity. "I need a doctor," she said.
He smiled a goofy grin. "At your service, ma'am," he said.
She rolled her eyes, then shook her head. "Not you," she said. "Not a planet-saving, injustice-fighting doctor. A doctordoctor." She looked at the watch she was wearing, still running on Lima, Ohio time. "I've been with you for three weeks now. I'm overdue for a prenatal appointment."
"Oh," he said, some of his excitement deflating at the thought of this ordinary, pedestrian task. "I suppose I could try to find you a place. 'Where' is the question."
"You mean to tell me you know the top 1000 burger joints in the universe, but not one single OB/GYN?"
"It's never really come up before," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "Which is actually... well, shocking, really."
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Well, whatever. The point is, it needs to be done. So get a phone book or Google it or do whatever you need to do. Just find one. You promised to help me." She put her fork down on the table forcefully, and crossed her arms over her chest. His first inclination was a flare of frustration, possibly anger, but he squelched it. Anyone could have a bad day, and she'd recently had a very bad one. Of course he didn't exactly appreciate being spoken to in that way, but he could forgive her the odd outburst. He'd had his fair share of those himself over the centuries.
"Are you alright?" he asked her, sensing something else was going on.
"I'm fine," she snapped. "Just... let's go."
He sighed. "Okay," he said quietly. He dug a few coins out of his pocket and left them on the table, picked his coat up from where it lay draped across the back of the adjacent chair, and shrugged it on. Quinn was already gone, arms still crossed and head tucked against a chilled wind that blew across the water. He sighed and followed her back to the TARDIS, closing the door behind them.
"I'll be in the back," she said. "Let me know when we get there."
"I will," he said, but she was already through the door. It took considerable restraint not to run back there, grab her by the shoulders and demand she snap out of it, but he knew that wouldn't be helping. Not that long ago it had been himself, albeit in a leather jacket and with short-cropped hair, who would be wandering the TARDIS looking for some space, while Rose stepped back and gave it to him. He could offer her the same thing without sulking about it. She wanted a doctor, and so he would find her one. So be it. Whether that was really what she was looking for or not was immaterial, and he had to admit it was probably a good idea anyway.
He'd never traveled with a companion in her condition before… not in the long term, anyway. He promised himself he'd look out for her, make sure he didn't take her anywhere too dangerous. But then again, that was always the plan, wasn't it? He never set out to get anyone hurt or killed but… it sure did seem to turn out that way from time to time. What was he even doing with her? If he were smart, if he were acting sensibly and rationally, he would drop her off at the nearest planet and never look back. To be responsible for one person was enough of a worry, but to be responsible for her and her child…
Then again, if he were acting sensibly and rationally, she wouldn't be here to begin with. If he were acting sensibly and rationally he would have left McKinley high school without a glee club, minus six bright, young, talented kids who had vanished without a trace. Quinn would have gone on without them, mourned their loss, maybe have stayed with that Puckerman kid. Would it have hurt? Sure. But she'd also be at home, safe and sound on her own planet, not running around out here with him.
He shook his head to clear it, telling the TARDIS to find a medical facility somewhere. The central column rose and fell as the Police Box forced its way into the time vortex in search of a doctor. He had to stop thinking this way. The last thing she needed - the last thing she would want - was someone else fussing over her like she was going to fall apart. As she would be the first to point out, she could take care of herself. Both Finn and Puck had played the part of the overprotective defender and she'd been annoyed at both of them for it. The last thing he wanted was to provoke her ire.
The TARDIS found a facility that seemed suitable, in New York in the year 2135, so he set a course and went to the back to find her and let her know they'd be there shortly. She wasn't in the kitchen or the library, and as she'd made plainly clear to him there were only a few things left in the wardrobe that would fit her, so it wasn't likely she was there either. That left the living quarters, and he went there to find her.
In just a moment he was outside her room - Rose's room. He should have insisted she have a new one and left this one untouched, as has always been his intention. But she'd thanked him so profusely after that first night, when he let her sleep here, about how perfectly firm the mattress had been and how soothing the silk sheets were, and how she'd been truly comfortable for the first time in months, and he couldn't bear to make her switch to another. But those had been Rose's sheets, a gift he bought for her on some alien bazaar when she complained that the originals had been scratchy. He told her that the high craftsmen on Gallifrey had woven them by hand with only silkworms for company and assistance. She said the high craftsmen could learn a thing or two about thread counts. He smiled at the memory. It seemed like a betrayal to let someone else use them - or the room in general - but he didn't say so.
That first night, back at McKinley, seemed so long ago now, even though it had only been a few weeks. Quinn could probably tell him exactly how long it had been, though. Usually the days all ran together, as they skipped from morning to night and back again, melting into weeks and months and years. Pretty soon it was impossible to say with any certainty how long he'd been traveling with someone.
But not Quinn. Quinn measured time meticulously. Just before she started traveling with him she'd taken to wearing a wristwatch, even though it had never been part of her attire before, and she was insistent that it not be tampered with. The hours and days ticked by in perfect sync with Lima, Ohio, a whole time stream away. Whenever he asked her she cited some logical, rational reason - keeping up with her vitamins, making sure she didn't miss morning prayers, keeping track of prenatal visits and her due date, etcetera - but he suspected a more sentimental reason. Once, he'd noticed her take a glance at the device and smile wistfully, even though they had been in the middle of directing a legion of soldiers to drop EMP grenades on an army of Cybermen from a helicopter at the time. It was just a fraction of a second, a few fleeting moments, but something had made her happy.
He shook his head, forcing himself back to the present. He was leaning against the wall, one sneaker up on the surface, staring at the doorknob and unsure about knocking to let her know he was here. It seemed like she didn't want to see him (or anyone) just at the moment, and he considered leaving, waiting until she ventured out to find him. But running away wasn't the Doctor's style. It wasn't the way to deal with Daleks, and it wasn't the way to deal with a hormonal young woman in the throes of a few mood swings, either. He'd only ever run from one place, and it was long gone now.
He stepped forward and knocked on the door softly. There was only silence from the other side, so he knocked again, slightly more loudly this time. "Come in," she whispered from inside the room.
He pushed the door open and stepped gingerly inside. "I found us a hospital," he said, leaning just inside the doorframe. "Just about, ooh, a hundred years after you left. There's a free clinic so I thought that'd work." She was sitting on the bed with her back to him, but she nodded slowly. "New York in the 22nd century is pretty marvelous," he said. "Oh, you ought to see it after sunset. Times Square has really changed since-"
"Can we just go?" She asked, cutting him off.
"Yeah. 'Course we can." She wiped her eyes with a tissue she'd been holding. "Quinn, have you been crying?"
"I'm fine," she said, sniffling as she stood up and grabbed a sweater from the back of the chair by the vanity. "Let's go."
For the second time today he followed her as she marched determinedly towards the TARDIS' doors, this time heading out instead of in. He picked up his own coat from the coral formation just inside the door and put it on.
DAVID TENNANT
DIANNA AGRON
DOCTOR WHO
THE POINT OF MERCY
