NO MORE HIDING
She stood over the basin full of water, rinsing her face, as if the memory of the horrors she had seen could be washed away. All it did was to reduce the puffiness in her eyes, so that it wasn't so obvious she had been crying.
Ace ought to have been hardened to it by now. But when things got personal - when you had got to know those people as friends, only to see them cut down - that was when it really hit home.
If only the Doctor had been honest about it from the start. But that wasn't his style. He'd been manipulating things since she'd known him – maybe before then, if she thought about it. But she had chosen not to. It was easier that way. But in recent times he'd upped the stakes. Once, she could have made him tell her the truth before too many people got hurt. But even that avenue was now closed to her. It felt as though she were flying blind, carrying out orders without knowing the full consequences until after the fact.
Her combat clothes lay in a corner. Now, she was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. She looked up at the leather jacket hanging on the door. Another time, she thought. When things were a lot simpler.
The knock at her door startled her. "Ace, can I come in?"
Oh, it would have to be him. "Just a minute." She slipped on her dark glasses. "Okay."
He didn't look directly at her as he entered, which didn't surprise her. There hadn't been many face-to-face conversations of late. "What's this then? Come to apologise for stitching us up for the umpteenth time?"
"Ace, this isn't easy for me…"
"Too right it isn't!" Ace rounded on him. "You put me and Benny through a lot these past months, but this… how could you let it happen? Those people were depending on you. You promised them a better life, but they died before they had a chance to achieve it."
"I'm trying to apologise for my actions," he insisted. "I never meant for any of this to happen."
"You never do," she ranted, "but that didn't stop the massacre. I saw them all die. I'll have to live with that memory every day of my life!"
"And you think that I won't?" The Doctor's strangled reply forced Ace to step back. "Do you think you have the monopoly on suffering, Ace? Too many times I've had to stare death in the face – if not mine, then someone else's. And no, it doesn't get any easier. And do you know the worst thing of all? It'll never stop. No matter how hard I try, there will always be pain and tragedy to deal with.
His whole body was shaking. "Y-you think you've suffered – that you've seen more than any one person has the right to endure in a lifetime. Well, I've had seven lifetimes so far –how much more death and destruction will I have to go through before my life is over? Will I never have peace?"
Ace was stunned into silence. The two of them had faced many trials together, but this was the first time she had ever known the Doctor to bare his soul so openly. Having been so caught up in her own heartache, she'd given no thought to how the Doctor must have felt. And now, for perhaps the first time, she was beginning to understand.
"I got it wrong, Ace," he continued. "Those are the facts, plain and simple. But facts don't take note of how we feel, how we hide our emotions and force ourselves to go on." He looked at her with a sad smile. "I've been too wrapped up in things instead of people. Not an ideal situation. Bernice put it most succinctly – apparently I'm a know-it-all git."
"Sounds about right." Ace was still angry with him for letting everyone down. "Don't think you'll be let off the hook that easily. You're still the Doctor. That'll never change. You'll still end up in the thick of things."
"Yes, I know. But it's what I do. What I've always done." He eyes were troubled. "I'm getting old, Ace. I can't afford to play with people's lives anymore. Not when the price is too heavy to pay."
The implications of what he said were not lost on Ace. "You're thinking of giving up?"
"Why not?" The Doctor let out a heavy sigh. "I've been hiding behind a mask for too long. Maybe it's time to let the mask slip, let the tears fall once in a while."
Ace's hand involuntarily went to her glasses without thinking. If this had been one of his challenges to her, his eyes would have been watching. But this time there was no trickery. Ace let herself relax, and slowly removed her glasses. No more hiding, she decided, as she moved to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. "It's okay to cry, Professor. Doesn't make you any less of a person."
Ace almost found herself smiling. She hadn't called him 'Professor' in a while. The anger had kept her from doing so. Except that much of that anger no longer seemed justified. "You can't just let everything go," she found herself saying. "You're the original trouble-shooter."
"You think so?" He sounded doubtful. "I never used to go looking for trouble, not in the beginning. Most of the time, it used to find me."
Ace looked up to the ceiling. "Either that, or the TARDIS has a nose for danger."
"Perhaps." He followed her gaze. "It's strange. I left Gallifrey all those years ago because it was too stifling and boring. I couldn't breathe for all the rhetoric surrounding me, so I left. In those days, I had no control over where the TARDIS landed, but it always seemed to be in the middle of some conflict or dispute."
"Headed up by some power mad villain or psychopath," Ace added. Was there a trace of ironic humour in her voice?
"The point is," the Doctor went on, "is that maybe you're right, Ace. Perhaps the TARDIS recognised my need to experience life outside the Capitol, and was more in control than I realised."
Ace took all of this in. "So what you're saying is that the TARDIS started manipulating things long before you did? That's weird."
"It's a sobering thought, isn't it? I've supposedly been the Great Manipulator, but I'm still in the nursery compared to what the TARDIS is capable of. She's been my friend and protector all this time, and I've never really gave her the credit she deserved."
"You make it sound as though she was doing you a favour."
The Doctor considered. "I suppose she was, in a way. I had to get away from the stuffiness and lethargy of the Time Lords, but I never had any real plan beyond finding a means to escape. I only chose this TARDIS because it was convenient – but what if it was the other way around? What if she chose me?"
The Doctor had constantly referred to the TARDIS as 'she'. In any other instance, it would be a term of endearment, like with a car. But the TARDIS was much more than just a machine. To Ace, it had always felt alive, adjusting to the moods of its occupants, or guiding her when she had felt lost within its winding corridors. So was it too much of a leap to believe that the TARDIS had chosen the Doctor as her travelling companion? Was it part of a need on the part of the TARDIS to satisfy its own desire for adventure? Had she been guarding the Doctor's back long before Ace had taken on the role? The possibilities of that made her head spin.
"This is getting a bit too deep for me, Professor," she decided. "All you need to know is that you're one of the good guys. You might get things wrong, but that's not your fault – well, not all of the time." And this time she did smile. Then she sniffed the air. "Hey, do I smell alcohol on you?"
The Doctor seemed a trifle embarrassed. "Ah, yes. Bernice all but forced me to 'have a swig', as she put it. I have to admit, it was rather warming."
"Strewth," she said. "If you're not careful, you'll end up being drunk in charge of the TARDIS."
"Perish the thought." He reached out his hand, and she took it. A simple act of friendship that meant so much. As the two friends began the short walk back to the console room, the Time Lord turned to the girl from Perivale. "I'll try to be good, Ace. I promise."
She squeezed his hand. "Don't just be good, be better." As they walked on, Ace wondered if she and Bernice could steer the Doctor back onto the straight and narrow.
It wouldn't be easy – but then, life with the Doctor had never been that.