(A/N) My first multi-chapter Doctor Who fic – still no beta, sorry. Constructive criticism and suggestions are always welcomed and encouraged.
Note:
First story in the What Could Have Been series. Takes place sometime after The Wedding of River Song and before The Angels Take Manhattan.
Warnings:
Fake Science, Angst, Fluff, Sex, Deliberate Sexism ('cause, well, 11), 11/Rose Shipping, and a tiny little bit of 11/River (I am trying very hard to be fair with her, even though I am not a fan).
Disclaimer:
Sadly, I don't own Doctor Who. But that doesn't mean I can't play with my OTP.
If there is one thing the Doctor has learned throughout his travels, it is that mad men (and women, and…others) exist everywhere and every when. There is quite the range to them too, from 'unintentionally destructive' all the way to 'let it burn.' On a good day, these mad ... people, are similar to himself – eccentric, potentially dangerous, but generally looking to help. On a good day, these people can be reasoned with.
This is not a good day.
No, today is one of those days where he's encountered one of the 'I hate everything, so it should all be annihilated' crowd. Luckily, he's managed to deal with Jah'knal, a quite insane other individual, hell-bent on destroying, well, everything. Unfortunately, at the time, the Doctor hadn't quite realized how far gone the situation was.
Long story short: the universe is hanging in the balance – again – and, as always, the Doctor is the only one who can save it. That really isn't the issue, though. The problem is, the odds of him being able to save the M'nbila Solar System and its fifteen billion or so inhabitants, is absolutely miniscule; to say nothing of his own chances of survival.
Typical Thursday. And Companions always wonder why he tries to avoid them.
"Sweetie," the curly blond behind him calls with a strained smile, "tell me you have a plan."
Oh, he has a plan, alright. He's knows she'll never agree to it, though. Not without a fight, at least; something they have no time for.
A lie it is, then.
Twisting around to face her, and the couple beside her, he declares with a flourish, "Of course I have a plan."
"Oh, good," the brunet man, a part of the couple, exhales - visibly relieved.
"See, Rory," the Scottish redhead beside him says, lightly punching him in the arm, "I told you the Doctor would get us out of this."
"Ow, Amy," Rory whines, rubbing his arm.
"Oh, don't be such a baby."
The curly blond is still looking expectant.
"You three," the Doctor gestures at his Companions, "are going to Minbila, Manbila, and Menbila to alert their governments to the situation. Tell them, they need to enact their Emergency Planetary Destruction Protocols. They will get as many people out of the system as they can." Nodding to himself, "I will stay here and attempt to stop this." A quick gesture over his shoulder, indicating the gargantuan machine behind him.
The instant he sees the blonde's face harden, he knows the word 'attempt' had not been the right choice. That look is never a good thing.
"River," he barks at her, "we do not have time to argue. The lives of everyone in this system are at stake, and the universe doesn't have much better chances." Gripping her shoulders, "You need to warn those planets. I will stop this."
"If you're going to stop it, why do we need to go?" Amy demands, stepping up to them, arms crossed and mouth pinched as she eyes the Doctor.
"That's right, gang up on me. Like mother, like daughter." Raising his hands, "If only the two of you could have shared a talent for baking instead;" point a deciding finger at them, "there would be a lot less arguing and lot more tasty biscuits. Mhnmm, biscuits." Eyes glazing over, he contemplates the taste of warm, gooey, biscuit melting in his mouth.
Two resounding slaps, one each from the two cross women, serve to shock him out of his food induced tangent. "Thanks." Staggering in astonishment. A deep breath, shaking himself. "Now, where was I? Oh, right."
"Because, Amy, there are only two ways to stop this thing from imploding the universe," turning to her, two fingers wiggling in her face, "Either I shut the program down before it has the chance to finish initializing, or I blow it up."
"So? Blow it up then!" Voice sharp.
"This machine," exasperated, waving wildly towards the contraption, "is directly hooked into the power of a sun, Amy. I blow it up and the feedback will take the sun with it!" Pantomiming the explosion, he continues, "M'nbila goes supernova millennia before its time, roasting every planet in the system instantly." He catches her eyes, speaking quietly, earnestly, "Fifteen billion people will be sacrificed, if I don't at least try to stop it."
"What about you?" River stubbornly draws back his attention.
He draws his hand down his face, needing to come up with something to appease her. Snapping his fingers, he points at her wrist, "Vortex Manipulator." Infusing his voice with confidence, "If I can't stop it, I'll set the system to overload and get out before it goes."
She stares at him for a moment before asking, "Vega Seven?" and Amy's eyes light up.
"Vega Seven," he confirms. She nods, removing the device from around her wrist and handing it to him. "You can go back thirty two minutes, no more. Make it count."
She nods again, giving him a quick kiss before turning around and walking towards the big blue police box sitting in the corner of the room. "Come on, Amy, Rory," she calls.
"Um, what's Vega Seven?" Rory asks as he follows the two women into the box.
"It's our meeting place for when we're separated." River tells him over her shoulder, as he closes the door. The Doctor watches as the box disappears.
"Well," he says to himself, "that went better than I thought." He really is too good of a liar.
With a huff, pulling out his sonic screwdriver, he turns around to face the deadly machine. A few steps bring him to main control panel of the device. Time is short and he works as quick as he can, adjusting wires, typing code, flipping levers, and repurposing equipment. He's used up more than half his time, but it's ready – the machine will trigger an overload before it can start the implosion.
If all has gone to plan, the system's governments are evacuating, some of the people are getting to safety. At least then, he won't be responsible for wiping out another race. He hopes River has done the right thing, gotten herself and her parents to the Vega system and out of harm's way. They won't see him again; he can't survive this, but he has to try. Maybe he'll get lucky, this time. The universe though, is rarely so kind.
He steps up to the Systems Command Helmet that Jah'knal used to activate the machine; it's the only way to shut it down. It's right in front of the inflection point for the implosion – a large mechanical archway that will trigger a universal collapse. Only someone infinitely insane and intelligent puts the off switch in the danger zone; less chance of interference that way.
"Well then," flippant, as he puts on the helmet, "Geronimo!" He flips the switch and is brought to his knees. The room is lost to him, his mind consumed in trying to stop the machine, but it was not built without defenses. It will kill him, if it can.
He runs.
Mind racing, he does his best to doge the codes that will execute him, calculating desperately, trying to find the right sequence to shut down Jah'knal's contraption.
The machine's engines open, draining power from the sun, and the universe hold its breath.
The Doctor's failsafe engages, ready to trigger the explosion when the implosion sequence commences. The universe breaths again, even as the M'nbila system cringes.
He's almost there, but his time is nearly up.
Crying out, he's found the code and pushes his mind faster. Mental fingers grasp it, twisting it into the right shape – the key to shut the contraption down – hurling it at the locked disengagement sequence.
The arch sparks, the machine and its ship shuddering violently, throwing the Doctor through the inflection point.
And the system sighs.
0000000000000000000000000
The Doctor groans.
Head and body heavy. Clearly, not dead then. Death doesn't hurt. Escaping death, on the other hand.
"You know you deserve a slap, yeah?" Female, irritated, but relieved and oh, so familiar.
He jolts upright, eyes snapping open. The pain in his head and the sudden influx of light, blind him briefly. He sees her none the less, and what a sight it is; stealing all the air from him, but the little he needs to utter a long unspoken prayer.
"Rose." Shaken awe and disbelief.
Perhaps, he hadn't survived after all.
0000000000000000000000000
The Doctor groans.
Head and body heavy. Clearly, not dead. Death doesn't hurt. Dying, on the other hand, now that hurts. Though, a quick internal assessment tells him he's going to be fine.
"I ought to slap you." Female, in a barely contained rage, "You lied."
His eyes snap open. The pain in his head and the sudden influx of light, momentarily blind him. He sees her none the less.
The curly blondes' expression is thunderous, the slap clearly going to see follow through. Not that he'll put up with that from her.
"Who the hell are you?" he demands, sitting up, "And how did you get into my TARDIS?!"
Her eyes widen, "Doctor?" Shaken and uncertain as his expression darkens, "Sweetie, it's me, River." When he does not react and she tries again, "Your wife."
His incredulous expression tells her, he has absolutely no idea who she is.
(To be continued…)