First Who-fic! I'm rather nervous about writing for this fandom, but I like this story, so I'm posting it.
Set during "The God Complex," so SPOILERS for Season 6. I'm sure plenty of people wrote about this, but I just watched "The God Complex" for the first time yesterday, and this story tumbled out.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. I own nothing.
He notices it the second it appears: the door with the number "11" on it. It's obviously for him; he can already feel its irresistible lure and a morbid but overwhelming curiosity to just see. He slowly walks towards it until his hand rests on the doorknob.
What did he tell the others? Don't open the doors. If you do, then the Minotaur will be able to trace your fear and find you. But when did he ever listen to his own advice?
You can stop, he says to himself. You can still walk away. Just turn around, walk away, and lie to yourself that you don't want to know what's behind that door. That you don't know what your own worst fear is.
"Rule number one," whispers a voice in his head. It might be River's, it might be his own. He smiles wryly.
The Doctor lies, but not this time. He turns the knob and pushes.
Standing in the middle of the room, with his back to the door and hands clasped behind his back, is the Doctor.
The real Doctor gazes at his fake counterpart as the cloister bell echoes faintly in the room. "Of course," he breathes. "Who else?"
Who else can the Oncoming Storm fear the most, but another Storm that's darker, wilder, and threatens to swallow all of time and space?
The not-Doctor turns and locks eyes with the Doctor at the door. His hair is combed back and he is impeccably dressed in a crisp black tuxedo. The bowtie and tweed jacket are nowhere to be seen. The not-Doctor smiles and the air seems to chill.
In that cold smile and those merciless eyes, the real Doctor sees a man who has blown up worlds, destroyed whole civilizations, and doesn't feel an iota of the guilt that has been eating the Doctor alive since the moment he saw the red fields of Gallifrey start to burn. He sees the Mighty Warrior of the Gamma people, the Time Lord Victorious, a nigh-unstoppable being who bends reality to his will and doesn't care about the consequences.
The Doctor smiles sadly although his insides are churning. I am not you, he thinks furiously, a desperate plea and a defiant promise. I will never, ever become you. He gently closes the door.
The not-Doctor's grin only grows wider, more predatory. Do you really think so? his eyes seem to ask as the door swings shut.
"Do not disturb," says the sign. Please, please do not disturb. You would not want the monster inside to be unleashed into the universe, even if he did not become one by choice.
The Doctor studies the main computer as the Minotaur lies dying on the floor. He can't get the not-Doctor out of his mind. He isn't real, the Doctor tells himself. It takes more self-convincing than he's willing to admit.
Amy sidles up to him. She can sense his unease and guesses that he found his door. Which must mean the Doctor must have faith in something, too. "What do Time Lords pray to?" she askes.
The Doctor turns to look at her. Amelia Pond, he wants to say. The girl who still has faith in me in spite of all that happened today, in spite of all that I said to break that faith. Time Lords don't pray. But we do have faith. And I have faith in you. I believe in every single one of you, in all my precious, beautiful companions. I don't save you. You save me.
He doesn't say it. He wants to. Instead, he pastes a smile on his face and changes the subject, not caring that Amy can see through his façade. The Minotaur suddenly starts speaking. As the Doctor translates, his pity for the creature grows. Drenched in the blood of the innocent, yes, but it's so old and so, so tired. Death would be kind. "Then accept it, and sleep well," he says, hoping the Minotaur takes comfort in his understanding.
He feels his stomach twist and hearts plummet when he hears the Minotaur's last words: I wasn't talking about myself.