Winterbloom
I
felt her presence, by its spell of might,
Stoop
o'er me from above;
The calm, majestic presence of the Night,
As
of the one I love.
I
heard the sounds of sorrow and delight,
The
manifold, soft chimes,
That fill the haunted chambers of the Night,
Like
some old poets rhymes.
~Henry
Wadsworth Longfellow,
Hymn to the Night
It wasn't as if
he'd never seen this room before. He'd been in it more times than he could
remember. So many people had passed through its doors of one form or another.
All gone, now. He was in the dark, quite alone. It had never bothered him
before.
So
why did it strike terror in his hearts now?
His whole body
trembled, and he felt his hearts start to race. The Doctor was terribly
frightened. Yet there seemed no great reason behind it. It was as if there was
some spirit pressing against his chest, forcing all the air out of his lungs.
He held his head up for one moment, trying to keep it at bay. Unfortunately,
there was no success. He bolted out of the room, smashing the great doors
against the long-suffering TARDIS walls with a cry of anguish. A cold breath of
air, faint as a whisper, blew across the back of his neck. It lifted the long,
honey-brown curls from the back of his neck with the gentle touch of a caress.
Shivering once more, he firmly shut the doors against the darkness of that
room.
"Tea.
Yes...that's all I need. A nice cup of hot tea with milk and sugar...and why am
I talking to myself?" It wasn't so much that question that bothered him.
The Doctor had always talked to himself, often with great frequency. It was the
question that lay behind it: Why am I alone? There was no-one for him to be
brave for when he was alone. Ace had once asked him what frightened him. He
remembered it so well....
"C'mon,
professor. There has to be something," she insisted when he replied there
wasn't a thing that frightened him anymore.
"Why
is that?" He was being ambiguous on purpose, not really wanting to answer
her question. To be honest, he did not want to think about it.
"Everyone
is scared of something. You know what I'm scared of." He nodded, looking
at her. Ace wasn't as tough as she pretended to be. Granted, she could stand
just about anything, and not let anyone know she was frightened. But it was
what happened in her mind that gave the Doctor cause to be concerned sometimes.
"Yes."
"So...tell
me." Her face was eager, honest, almost searching. It was like a quest to
Ace. She needed to know he was frightened, too, sometimes. Just so he would be
real to her. He could be this enigma with bad diction, and seem as far away as
the end of time. The Doctor was aware of it, too, and did it consciously at
times. It had its uses, just as most things did. Sighing, he set down the thick
tome he was attempting to read when she had come in.
"You
really want to know, don't you?" Ace nodded enthusiastically. "I
don't even know why I'm telling you this. It's rather hard to explain. I'm
afraid of being alone. Not just by myself for a while, but truly alone. Dying
alone. The Universe is a huge place to wander, and Time a huge responsibility
to have in isolation. There's no reason to be brave when there's no-one to be
brave for." His voice was sad, almost wistful. Ace looked at him again,
and he seemed to have changed. He wasn't an omnipresent creature, or an enigma
with bad diction. He was her friend, a friend who needed her. And it was true.
He did need her around; anyone to fill the void being a renegade was at times.
"It's
okay, Doctor. And, well...thanks."....
Her
voice faded as the Doctor was brought back to the present. He had walked to the
kitchen, or what could pass for one, while he was lost in thought. It was
bright and cheery, filled with copper pots that gleamed in the light, and sky
blue walls. They were like the sky on a brilliant summers day on Earth. The
kind when you are standing on a beach, and you look out over the water that
seems to extend forever to the distant horizon, and your gaze takes it all in.
The kind when you can still smell the salt air and hear the gulls and the
waves. The kind when you knew you were really happy for once, and there were no
troubles bearing down on you. The Doctor had experienced so few of those days
recently. How he missed them. It wasn't so much the sea or the sun or the sky
he missed, but the people who were always with him. He never went to the beach
alone. Picnics and tide pools are no fun if you are by yourself. He had taken
Susan to the beach long ago, Zoe and Jamie once, too. Jo went with him in
Bessie, laughing in her charming fashion. Convincing Romana to go wading was a
feat, but once completed, it was one of his fondest memories of her. He had
played a makeshift game of cricket with Nyssa, Adric and Tegan, and went
swimming with Peri. Even Ace built sand castles with him. What affairs those
were, all full of Gothic towers and flags of driftwood and handkerchiefs. So
many happy memories. He had quite a few happy memories, actually. They just did
not want to show up most of the time.
He set the kettle
on to boil, humming snatches of Puccini's Madama Butterfly, which would
always belong to Grace, as far as he was concerned. How he wished Grace had
come with him. But the Doctor respected her decision, and that would never
change. He didn't regret it, for there was no time for regrets. He had even
said it once. I am a Time Lord. I walk in eternity. And that means no going
back, no regrets... He fished around in cupboards for some china, along
with tea, milk and sugar. Upon catching sight of the empty sugar jar, which he
had been meaning to refill for a while, he opted for honey instead. He hadn't
used that sugar jar for...oh, ages. After Romana, who only liked milk when she
took tea, it seemed to become a trend not to like sugar all that much. Hadn't
he disliked sweet tea just a few weeks ago...? It didn't matter, anyway.
Regenerations had a way of playing tricks on his mind. Being forgetful didn't
matter so much, either, at that moment. There was no-one to be brave for. He
could be frightened, and let his mind wander through the dark corridors that
existed without worrying if anyone would be hurt. He anchored the TARDIS in the
Vortex, and planned on staying there. There was no reason why he couldn't.
The
whistle of the kettle blew and brought him back once more. He set down the
china cup, and noticed that the edge was chipped ever so slightly. He made a
little noise of disappointment, for it really was his favourite, but proceeded
to make tea in it anyway. It was such a pretty little object that the hated to
throw it away. All white, with delicate gold stars and borders around the
edges. He knew he could get another if he really looked for it, but he was so
fond of that one. A trivial matter, anyway.
He
headed towards the library, as far from the source of his fear as he could get.
It wasn't the physical distance so much as the mental one. The Doctor knew he
could loose himself in a book if he wanted to. Put on some jazz, read a bit,
drink his tea...yes, it would all be forgotten. Maybe even sleep a little. He
very rarely slept now, and if he did, it was for short bursts of extremely deep
sleep. It was close to being in a coma, perhaps too close. But it did keep him
from having dreams. Wretched dreams that played with his mind and stayed in the
corner until the moment was right and haunt him all over again. It was a moment
of venerability. He did not let his companions see him sleep. No, that was not
true. Nyssa did, once. After Adric's death....
The
Doctor went into Adric's room one last time. There was no real reason behind
it, but he did it all the same. He was physically and mentally exhausted. Emotionally,
he was a train wreck. He had looked around at all the objects and books the boy
had collected, and started to weep silently. Such guilt he felt then. For
arguing with him, and not being as attentive as he should have been. For
letting him stay on the freighter. For being on the freighter in the first
place. Tears ran down his cheeks as he saw Adric in everything there. The
Doctor sat on the bed, permanently unmade, and let his mind go. Let himself
drift. He was asleep within moments. When he awoke, there was no more guilt. It
was as if Adric himself had forgiven the Doctor in his dreams. Perhaps he had.
The Doctor was then aware of someone stroking his forehead very gently, pushing
his hair away from his still closed eyes. He opened his eyes to see Nyssa
sitting beside him.
"I
was worried about you. Tegan and I...we both...after everything..." Her
voice trailed off, not really wanting to mention Adric, and not really knowing what
to say. She wasn't sure why she knew she would find the Time Lord in Adric's
room. She wasn't sure why she sat with him as he slept for hours. All she knew
was that she was terribly concerned. She just looked so charming in that
moment, and the Doctor felt better knowing she was there.
"I
know. Sorry for disappearing like that." He spoke quietly, and rolled over
on to his back to look at her more clearly.
"You
need your rest. I'll leave you now."
Gently,
he took her hand, as if it were a bird that he might crush in his fingers. "No. Please stay. I don't really want
to...to be alone."
She
nodded and squeezed his hand tenderly. He did not go back to sleep, or at least
he did not intend to. They talked for a while about everything and nothing at
all. After a while, he dozed off again. Nyssa only smiled and covered him with
a blanket. He needed someone to care for him so desperately sometimes. Someone
to fetch him some tea and keep him warm. To stay with him when everything was
too much. To comfort him. Nyssa wished she could do it forever. How she cared
for him....
The
Doctor settled in a chair, setting his tea down. He did not want to read, nor
listen to music. He just wanted some rest. Actually, he wanted someone to tell
him he needed rest, but telling himself would just have to do. He curled up,
and stopped.
"I
can actually curl up in this chair? Hmmm..." He couldn't a few weeks ago.
He did not want to a few weeks ago. It didn't really matter, anyway. His
eyelids started to droop over his intense green eyes, letting his body relax.
He was dreaming within minutes, and somehow he did not mind so much that he
was. It was almost as if he could deal with it. That feeling did not last for
long.
With a whispered
curse, his eyes shot open, full of fear. He took a deep breath and let it out
slowly, trying to regain discipline. It wasn't happening. His breath came in
short bursts, and he whimpered slightly. He couldn't even remember what the
dream was, but it was terribly frightening. It had to do with that room again...there
was no choice. He had to go in there again. Face his fear. He did not want to,
but the Doctor knew he couldn't keep fleeing from it for long. Running his
fingers through his hair, he sat up. He was shaken, physically and emotionally.
Gulping down the last few swallows of his now luke-warm tea, he stopped
trembling. He stood up and straightened the forest green velvet jacket. He was
becoming rather fond of it, actually. Not bad for another stolen set of
clothes.
The
Doctor walked quickly, quietly down the TARDIS corridors. It was as if he was
watching the entire thing on television or something, for he was no more in the
midst of it than Ho Chi Minh was. Not that he watched much television at all,
but it seemed an appropriate metaphor. It wasn't quite big enough for a motion
picture, after all. He was only one man. One man who tended to be rather
important to the continued existence of the universe and Time, but one man
nonetheless. It was only a short walk, when speaking in terms of physical distance,
but mentally, it was endless. His steps lost their steady, measured beat the
closer he came to the doors, and became a slow drag. A funeral march that
echoed all around him.
"I am not
afraid." His voice was little more than a whisper, and he clenched his
fists into balls. "I am not afraid." He repeated it, a little louder,
pronouncing every consonant carefully. It was almost a mantra. Reaching out, he
opened the doors carefully, and peered in the darkness that lay beyond them.
Nothing had changed since last he saw it, of course. If things had changed, the
Doctor would have been rather put out, and probably never would have entered it
again. But, as it stood, things were as they should be. Empty, dark and
foreboding. Hesitantly, he set foot past the door frame. Everything was fine,
except for the cold sweat that broke out on his forehead. Ignoring that, he
took another uncertain step. He had cleared the doors. He was inside. Alone.
And nothing had happened. Not yet.
"I
am not afraid..." The words died on his lips as the doors swung shut,
leaving the room in total darkness. He shivered, feeling the fear welling up
inside him, threatening to overflow into something he could not control. The
Doctor always was in control. He constantly was plotting something, invariably
ready. Ceaselessly. But not at that moment.
In
the depths of the inky darkness before his eyes, he could perceive a faint
glow. It was like a firefly metres away. Bright enough to know it's there, but
dim enough that it's uncertain. He strained to discern the source of the light.
As he did, it grew steadily brighter, coming closer. The Doctor took a step
backwards, then another. His back was against the doors. There was nowhere to
go. He was trapped in the room, with something coming towards him from the
gloom. The something drew closer and closer still, brightening. The fear had
solidified into a lump of granite in his throat, threatening to choke him. His
hands flew up to his neck, and his breath came in short, ragged bursts. There
was no escaping what was coming closer and closer still to him, no where to
run.
"Doctor..."
It was a voice carried to his ear on a breeze, faint and delicate. It hovered
in mid-air until entering his ear and sending chills down his spine. Wistful and
ghostly, it made what little air he had in his lungs catch in his throat. His
body shut down entirely, soon followed by his panic-stricken mind. The Doctor's
limp form hit the floor with a soft thump, devoid of life. Moments later, his
systems began to work again, his hearts beating and lungs pulling in oxygen.
But he did not stir.
The
light settled next to him, and then surrounded him in its glow. The Doctor's
long fingers twitched slightly, and soon afterward his eyelids fluttered. The
light pulled back from him, and then started to create a definite form for
itself. The light brightened and dimmed, brightened and dimmed again as its
shape became distinct. Feminine, and familiar to the Doctor. Short blonde hair,
a bright and sunny expression. Sitting on the floor by his side, legs curled up
underneath her, she waited. The Doctor came around a few moments later, groggy
and disoriented. The normal TARDIS hum was not audible here, and it threw him.
But not as much as what he saw when he opened his eyes.
"Jo...?
But how...?" His voice was barely a whisper as he tried to sit up. Jo took
his arm and helped him a little.
"Steady
now, Doctor. Everything's just fine."
He
looked at her intently, studied her green dress, her blue eyes, everything
about her. He hadn't seen her in so long... "No...no, it's not. You can't be here."
Jo
flashed a sweet smile at him. "Of
course I can. I've been in this room before. Don't you remember?"
The
Doctor shook his head. "That's not
what I meant. You cannot be here now with me. It's impossible."
"Anything
is possible, Doctor."
"This is my
seventh regeneration. You travelled with my second. I'm in the Vortex, and
nothing can get in or out of my TARDIS without my landing. Therefore, you
cannot be here."
Jo's smile faded
a little. Why did the Doctor always have to be so difficult? "I'm not really here. Not in the
physical sense. I wish I was."
He rubbed his
brow, slightly confused. "Come
again?"
"I'm
still with my Doctor and UNIT in reality. But a part of me is always here. I
was in this room once with you, and although I left, the essence of me never
did. I have been here, waiting for you." She stood up, and extended her
small hand, indicating for him to take it. "And now you're here," she
said cheerfully. He did as she wished, and slowly got to his feet.
"I
don't understand."
"I
would call it magic, but you went out of your way to show me that there is no
such thing. Science accomplishes everything. So perhaps this is a feat of
science even you do not understand." They started to walk, the area about
them lit dimly, but the darkness still encroached upon them. He shivered a
little. Jo pulled on his hand a little, encouraging to venture deeper into the
room. The Doctor balked.
"Jo,
please..."
She
looked at him curiously. "I'm only
here to comfort you, Doctor. You have to do this yourself." He let go of
her hand and backed up a few steps. His face wore an expression of pure horror
at going any further. "I see," she said, dispirited.
"I
can't. Please, can't you understand...?" he implored.
Jo
walked backwards into the gloom, eyes never leaving him. "I'm sorry, Doctor. But I'm always with
you. You're never alone. Trust in that." She was quickly swallowed by the
darkness. The Doctor reached out for her.
"Jo?
Jo?!" There was no reply. He looked around him, eyes piercing the dim
light. There was no sign of anyone. "What the devil is going on here?"
he whispered. Deciding that he truly did not want the answer to that question,
he backed up a little more and peered into the inky depths that engulfed Jo.
"Are
you runnin' off now, Doctor?"
The
Doctor froze. He knew that voice, that soft Scottish burr.
"Running
off...? Jamie, you know me better than that."
The
Highlander materialised before his eyes in a flash of golden light. Young and smiling,
clad in his kilt and plaid, he was just as the Doctor knew him. "Aye, I do. That's why I can't
understand what you're doin' now." Confidently, Jamie strode towards the
Doctor.
"Whatever
do you mean?"
Jamie
looked to Doctor up and down. His voice took on a chill like the wind that
swept across the Highlands in January. "You
wouldn't let your fears control you before, Doctor. And you wouldn't let our
fears control us. What happened to your strength, your heart?"
The
Doctor looked down, suddenly ashamed. He made a hopeless gesture with his
hands. "I don't know."
"And
do you know that there's nothin' to be frightened of in this wee room?"
"It's
not all that little, actually," the Doctor protested weakly.
Jamie
frowned. "C'mon, Doctor. This
isn't like you."
"Things
change. People change." He looked at the young Scot. How long had it been
since Jamie had been with him and Zoe? How long ago since the Time Lords sent
him back to Scotland with no memories of the Doctor, Zoe, Victoria or the
TARDIS? It seemed like ages and ages ago, and he could acutely remember the
events, people and losses that had changed him since he was last with Jamie.
"Aye...aye,
they do. But not like this."
The
Doctor smiled sadly. "Why are you
here, James Robert McCrimmon? Why have I called your ghost now?"
Jamie
shrugged, and paused a moment before answering. "Because you needed a reminder. A reminder of your strength, how
brave you were, can be and still are. And that's what I am. I was here once,
and I'm always here. And so is the strength within you. You just have to find
it and use it."
The
Doctor nodded. "I don't know if I
can."
Jamie
made a tsking noise, and reached for the Doctors shoulder. He clapped his
large, rough hand upon it, a hand that coaxed music from bagpipes, fought the
British army for his homeland, nursed his fallen Laird, protected Zoe from
dangers real and imagined, comforted Victoria in times of sorrow. "Of course you can. I know it. You just
have to find that strength in you again. Now, c'mon Doctor. Let's go. You can't
cower on the edge any longer." With a little pressure on his shoulder,
Jamie pulled the Doctor a step closer. Panic welled up in him, but the Doctor
fought it down.
"No,
I suppose not." He pulled in a deep breath and started to walk. Jamie took
a few steps, the vanished as quickly as he had come. "Jamie?" There
was no reply, and the Doctor didn't really expect one. He straightened his
shoulders, and kept going. The blackness was almost tangible. He hated it. One
never knew what or who was lurking in the gloom. But he was the Bringer of
Darkness. The Daleks called him that, and for good reason. When was the last
time he fought the Daleks? He remembered. During his seventh incarnation,
with...
"Professor!"
With
Ace. He whirled around to see her behind him. One never did know what was
lurking in the darkness. Wearing her black bomber jacket covered in badges,
baseball bat in hand, Ace flashed him a grin that disappeared as quickly as it
lit up her face.
"Hello,
Ace."
Quickly,
she walked over to him. "Hey,
Professor. Aren't you going to say that I can't be here, too?"
He
stopped walking and smiled. "Who
am I to say where Time's Vigilante can and cannot be?"
"Good
question. Now here's one for you: what are you frightened of?"
A
look of surprise crossed the Doctor's features. "I've answered that question before."
Ace
shook her head. "I don't see
anything in this room that would suggest dying alone, Doctor."
Suddenly
ashamed, the Doctor looked down. "It's
not so much that...and that was a long time ago...a lifetime ago."
She
looked him up and down. "Yeah. I
can tell. My Doctor wouldn't be doing this."
The
Doctor's head shot up. "Yes,
because I'm not your Doctor anymore. I'm different. I don't know who I am, but
that's not me anymore. I'm not dark and manipulative. I'm not cold and
calculating. I'm not who I was."
Ace
grinned again. "Now you're getting
it. That's past, and no matter how much you hate to do it, you have to let go
of it."
"What
do you mean, let go?"
"I
mean that my Doctor is not you anymore. You can't be expected to act like him,
to have the same fears. You've been trying to. You aren't scared of this room.
He was. I know that. I watched his face when we went in here. This is the heart
of your TARDIS, and your heart as well. This is where your history is. He was
frightened of his history, ran from it. You can't run from it anymore."
The
Doctor nodded. "No, I can't. That's
what I've been doing, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"And
that's why my phantoms keep coming back to me, isn't it?"
"Yes.
But we are the people you loved, Doctor. We want to help. We trusted you enough
to come in here. Trust us enough to go to the centre, to overcome your
fear." Ace patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. She smiled at him once
more, and then ran off into the darkness she came from. He watched the darkness
where she vanished for a moment, then trudged on again.
"To
the centre, eh?" There was no choice but to continue. It didn't seem so
dark anymore, and wasn't as bad. Perhaps Ace was right. Maybe the fear of this
room wasn't his anymore. Maybe that belonged to the self who died in San
Francisco. Maybe he wasn't afraid anymore.
There was a faint
light ahead, and he moved steadily towards it. Any light seemed preferable to
his current condition. The Doctor could vaguely make out the stone benches he
knew so well. But there was something else there...no, not something. Someone
else. Sitting on the bench. A small girl, with long curly hair.
"Nyssa?"
he asked, his voice almost a whisper. She stood, and the Doctor could make out
her features more clearly as he continued to move towards her.
"Yes,
Doctor. It's me."
How
he loved to hear her voice! His astonishment gone, his face lit up in a smile
of pure joy. There she was, just as he remembered her. He swept her up in a
strong embrace, and she laughed.
"It's
so wonderful to see you." They parted, and sat down.
"I've
been here for a while, waiting."
He
looked at her curiously. "Waiting?"
She
nodded. "Waiting for you to come
back. You always did. It just took you a little longer this time."
The
Doctor thought about that for a moment. "Yes...yes I suppose it did."
"I
never really wanted to leave you, Doctor. You were...like a father to me, and I
cared for you very much. I still do. That's why I'm here."
"I
cared for you, too, Nyssa. Very much so. But why did you leave?" He hated
to ask the question; it seemed so blunt and callous. Yet he blurted it out
before common sense could do anything to stop him.
"Because
it was the right thing to do. They needed me on Terminus. Somehow, I always
hoped you would come back for me, even though I knew you wouldn't. What did you
tell me? 'I'm a Time Lord. I walk in eternity. And that means no going back, no
regrets...' I knew what that meant, and I hated it."
The
Doctor felt confused, for not the first time that day. "But how do you know all this? You
haven't been here in ages...lifetimes..."
Nyssa
smiled, almost like an angel. "I'm not really here. The me you see before
you, who is speaking to you now, is a creation of your TARDIS and your own
will, as well as mine. You didn't want me to leave, I didn't want to leave, so
the TARDIS made it so a part of me never did. As soon as my mild telepathic
link was severed with you and the TARDIS, my memories stop. And I shall always
remain this way until Nyssa, the real Nyssa, enters the TARDIS again, if ever.
I never grow old, never die. I'm always here, in this room, for you."
He
looked around. It wasn't so oppressively dark, and he could see the walls
again. The ivy clinging to them was visible, and the faint sound of trickling
water was audible. It was how he knew it to be, how he remembered it to be. The
Cloister Room. The heart of the TARDIS.
"Amazing.
I never knew..."
She
took his hand. "You never needed
to. You were frightened, unsure and alone. You needed your companions, people
you knew and trusted. To give you someone to be brave for. So Jo and Jamie and
Ace appeared for just that reason."
"And
you," he added.
"Yes,
and me. And there's nothing to be afraid of in your past."
"No.
Not anymore." He hugged her to him gently.
"I'm
always here, with you. Trust in that."
"I
do."
"Then
you have nothing left to fear. Goodbye, Doctor." A flash of light, then
she was gone, leaving the Doctor clutching nothing but air. But, oddly enough,
he didn't feel alone anymore. And he knew he never really would be. Smiling, he
stood up and looked around.
"No,
nothing left to fear at all." With that, the Doctor left the Cloister
Room, and headed into the future.
The End
