Disclaimer: Doctor Who and its assorted characters, creatures, etc. belong
to the BBC. I do not intend to make any profit from this story, and do not
wish to infringe upon the BBC's rights. This is solely to show my
appreciation for the show, derive enjoyment from writing it and having others
read it.
Dedication: This is dedicated to Christy, the first person I've ever met who
became a Doctor Who fan as a result of watching the television movie.
"Lost Time"
by Dave Ziegler
Most people would have thought it to be a television, an aging one
at that. A dull, scuffed metal box supporting an ancient black and white
monitor. Then, of course, there were a few knobs and switches thrown in for
their limited functional value. Across the static laden screen the words
"Destination: Earth. Humanian Era. Local Dateline: January 20, 2020"
were obscured. Yes, most anyone would have thought it appeared deceptively
like a television, not realizing its real function or power, but then a
TARDIS was a deceptive machine.
"Its absolutely perfect." The Doctor grinned inanely to himself.
"Good girl," he enthused whilst giving the oak and brass surface of the
console an affectionate pat. "And here I thought that this little trip might
take us awhile to get right. What a doubting Thomas I've been."
The Doctor lingered near the console for a moment, his fingers gently
playing over the curve of his lips in a thoughtful manner. "Now, where was I?
Ah yes! Mr. Wells!" He nimbly hopped off the dais on which the console was
positioned and began to weave through the assorted ornamentations that had
collected in the room over the past several centuries. The Doctor ceased his
lithe dance as he reached an ornately carved armchair lined back and seat with
plush velvet cushions.
"Hmm. It was so kind of Victoria to have bestowed this upon me. She
need not have rewarded me for flushing the Master out of parliament." The
Doctor suddenly frowned. "Or was it Elizabeth? Ah well, its rather academic
at the moment." He slid neatly out his dark green coat, threw it onto a
nearby hat stand, and dropped into the armchair with a satisfied thud. With
one hand he produced a mug of tea, while the other seized a battered copy of
"The War of the Worlds."
"Here we are." The Doctor sipped his tea, noting the sour taste of
the brew for later rectification, and began to read the novel in earnest.
Christine Holloway stood in front of the mirror and frowned. It
wasn't that she was dissatisfied with her features, she had managed to garner
many a date with just their presence, or the clothing she had decided to
wear. The pale cream blouse and baby blue pants were the perfect ensemble.
It was just that... well,... she was nervous.
She inhaled deeply, and let the air slowly trickle from a pin hole
formed between her lips. Some of the tension locked in her stomach and
shoulders dissipated, but Christine could still feel the clenching and
releasing of random muscles.
Nerves couldn't get the best of her today. Her appearance needed to
be dignified, refined even. She would be in the presence of the most
proficient, competent, and regarded doctors in the world. And they were all
gathering to celebrate the accomplishments of her mother, Doctor Grace
Holloway.
Today, in the Meyer Conference Center of Saint Laurence General
Hospital, Christine's mother would be presented with the Samir R. Shaw
Lifetime Achievement Award in the field of medical research. Doctor
Grace Holloway, now senior director of cardiology at the aforementioned
medical institution would become one of the first people not to achieve this
honor posthumously, and would have the distinction of being the first woman
to receive it.
Christine was proud, she was elated, she was nervous... Oh hell. She
was late.
The speedometer read upwards of sixty miles per hour as Christine
increased the pressure her foot exerted on the pedal. How could she have
been so careless as to leave herself only thirty minutes of travel time. It
was a fifty minute commute, and she knew it! Christine pushed the pedal even
nearer to the floor.
The Doctor sprang from his chair as the timerotor ceased the perpetual
clashing that indicated the TARDIS was in flight. He flicked a few switches,
turned a few dials, not quite believing that his temperamental time machine
had arrived at the proper destination in time and space for once. Finally
satisfied that everything was in order, and he had indeed arrived at Earth
during the proper period, the Doctor threw a great brass lever and proceeded
towards the now gaping double doors.
A small, beige, Japanese compact flew around the corner of Maple Drive
and Westchester with a stunning lack of concern for what might be ahead or
behind it. Fortunately Maple Drive was an older roadway, unused and out of
the way. It attracted hardly any traffic or ambitious police officers
looking for an easy ticket write up. It also had the privilege of being the
most direct route from the home of one Christine Holloway to the Saint
Laurence General Hospital.
Christine glanced anxiously at the small gold hands of her watch.
The second hand seemed to leave the bold numerals in a wash of fine crystal
and ebony as it sped by them. There were only five minutes left to the
start of the ceremony, and by her reckoning it was still at least a fourteen
minute drive to the hospital. Christine swore, looked away from her watch,
and screamed.
In the midst of the road, directly in her path, was a tall blue box
with a startled looking man standing just before it. Christine swung the
steering wheel as fast and far to the left as she could manage. Its brakes
screeching, the car swerved just to the left of the box, clipping it with the
passenger side mirror. The plastic cracked with little protest and the
mirror was spat back in the opposite direction. Safely past the box, the car
swung about in a great arc finally coming to rest horizontally across the
lane.
Christine could feel her heart pulsing, as if a great hand had reached
inside her chest and was squeezing the muscle. She couldn't be sure what a
heart attack felt like, but this had to be close. She had almost died for
God's sake. "No," Christine told herself firmly. "I didn't almost die.
That fool almost killed me!"
A flood of rage washed over her. It seemed as if all the reservoirs
of pent up anger, hatred, and frustration were suddenly given leave to burst
from their constraints and into her being. Christine threw the door open and
stalked toward the young man and his battered box.
"I believe this is yours," he said, offering Christine the decapitated
mirror, smiling affably.
"You almost killed me," she hissed. How could this fool be smiling
after what had just happened. He had had as much a chance of dying as she.
"I did? I was rather under the impression that you almost killed me."
"Me! Almost kill you!" Christine felt her face flush a deeper shade
of crimson.
"Yes, in that sedan over there. You were traveling quite quickly and
did not seem to have much control. But you threw yourself out of the way
just in the nick of time." He slapped her affectionately on the back.
"Jolly good driving I'd say."
Christine couldn't form a reply. She tried, she really, truly tried
to formulate some venomous response, but this man's incredible good humor
about the entire episode had completely thrown her.
The man peered concernedly at her for a moment, then deposited the
damaged mirror in Christine's suddenly outstretched palm. She didn't
remember even unclasping her fists, but sure enough her hand was out there
holding a cracked, plastic and glass automotive appendage.
"This seems to have been a rather trying experience for you. Here,"
the man shoved a hand into his pocket and withdrew a bag of confections,
"have a jellybaby. It might make you feel a bit better." When Christine
made no move to take the sweet herself, the man reached into the bag and
popped a candy into her mouth himself. Completely at odds with how she felt,
Christine found herself enjoying the treat. "There you are. I'm sorry I
can't stay and chat, but I've somewhere I need to be. In fact I'm ten years
late already, but... well, you know how time flies." With a broad grin and
a wave of his hand, the young man disappeared into wooded area alongside the
roadway, coattails flapping behind him.
Only when the deep green of the man's absurd coat finally faded from
view did Christine find voice. "He... he just left! How could he just
leave!"
Christine threw the mirror in disgust. There was something odd about
that man. Aside from the fact that he had almost been the cause of her
premature death. What had he been doing hanging about in the middle of the
road with an oblong box anyway? Of course, she couldn't be sure it was his
box, but it seemed to fit with the comic absurdness of the man himself. He
dressed like he was trying to relive the glory of Victorian England, and
brushed off almost getting run down like it was a common occurrence.
Christine walked up to the box and examined it. It was old, the
pitted surface and flaky blue paint confirmed that. Other than that the only
distinguishing thing about it was the legend printed across the top.
"Police Box. Well, I'll just chalk this up to the ineptness of
our esteemed police force." Christine gave the box a sarcastic slap.
"Thanks for noth..."
Christine gaped. The box, it was humming. The pulse felt as if it
was channeling itself through the box and into her. Images began to flash
in her mind.
"Why did you do that?"
"Liven things up! Come on!"
Christine snatched her hand away as if scalded. What was going on
here? Those voices, they seemed eerily familiar. Then there were the
images. They weren't clear, more fuzzy, hazy, as if you saw them through a
fugue. Christine laid her palm back on the surface of the box.
"Yes!"
"What?"
"These shoes! They fit perfectly."
There was a woman. One of good height and build. She bore the same
fiery red hair as Christine herself. Beside her was a man, his image still
clouded. Yet, Christine felt his youth and great age at the same time.
Two forces waging a war for domination.
"Remember Grace! Remember!"
"Reroute the power?"
"In the console room! Go!"
"But you'll die if I leave you!"
"We'll all die if you don't! Run! Run Grace!"
The images began to pile one on another until Christine could no
longer focus on any one of them. They blurred into a soft grey mist. At the
center a small eye coalesced. Its lids fluttered slowly at first, then
blossomed open dragging Christine into the pool of heavy darkness. She tried
to scream but no voice issued from her throat. A great spotlight ignited,
cutting through the claustrophobic blackness. Enveloped in the bright, white
light stood both the man and the woman from the images.
The man now she could recognize. He wore the same dark velvet coat,
tan trousers, and broad grin. His ice blue eyes sparkled with life and
mischief. Her anger subsiding, Christine realized that he appeared as if he
were a child, locked in the constraints of adulthood; no longer an incredibly
polite lunatic who had been responsible for her first brush with death. He
was now someone, and Christine found herself smiling, you just couldn't help
but like.
As for the woman, there was something about her. Something her youth
was hiding from Christine. Then it came to her. "Oh my God," she uttered,
and fell away from the box.
The Doctor strolled cheerfully through the woods and down to the
desolate road, whistling a jaunty tune while swinging the TARDIS key from
his finger. All in all it had been quite a splendid day. Grace had received
her award, as was due. He had told her she'd do great things, hadn't he?
Unfortunately, he had not been able to speak with her. Even if the Doctor
desperately wanted to he had to wait first. For what? Serendipity of course.
"You." The voice halted the Doctor straight in his tracks. He spun
slowly around until he faced his accuser.
"Still hanging about are you? While I must admit its a beautiful
day..."
Christine eyed him warily. "You are him, aren't you?"
"Who," the Doctor replied, all innocence.
"When I was five, I never slept well. I always dreamt of terrifying
monsters and horrible creatures that lived under my bed and in my closet.
They were just waiting for the chance to snap me up for their dinner.
"My mother tried everything she could to provide restful sleep for
me. Nothing seemed to work. Finally, one night after I crawled into her
empty bed, seeking comfort from the latest bought of nightmares, she told me
a story.
"In her strong, soothing voice she spoke to me of a man who looked
just like you or me on the surface. Beneath the polished exterior though
lurked power, cunning, and intelligence. He never abused his abilities
though. She said he could travel to all times and all places, and throughout
his travels he fought for the weak, the downtrodden, the terrified, those
with no one left to save them from a vicious tyranny. He fought and won
all these battles, and many others. Once even, he had visited San
Francisco and saved my mother from just such a creature. From the kind I
feared were lurking, waiting for me.
"Mother said not to be afraid any more. That if a monster should
ever come after me, this man would arrive and protect me, just as he had
her. He's the one the monsters fear, she said."
The Doctor clapped his hands together excitedly. "Of course!
Grace's daughter!" He strode up to her and wrapped Christine in a fierce
embrace. "I'm so pleased to meet you," he enthused. "Although I recall I'm
not supposed to be meeting you for quite a few years yet." He released her
and shrugged helplessly. "Just another of time's little quirks I guess."
"I always thought you were a myth, a figment of my mother's
imagination," Christine ventured, having recovered from the shock of having
a complete stranger hug her like that.
"No, no, no, no, no. I'm quite real. You see, I'm the Doctor and you
must be Christine Holloway."
Christine groaned. "Christy please. Only mother calls me Christine."
The Doctor seized one of her hands and began to shake it vigorously.
"Christy it is then."
"Is that it," she asked indicating the TARDIS.
"The TARDIS you mean? Yes that's her."
"Hmm. Mother always did say it looked like a cabinet."
The Doctor blanched. "A cabinet! Pay no attention to her old girl,"
the Doctor soothed, patting the TARDIS lightly. "She knows not what she
says." His grin suddenly returned. "You don't fancy a quick trip round the
cosmos do you? I can have you back in time for tea."
Christine found she couldn't help but grin in return. The Doctor's
enthusiasm was highly infectious. "I did miss my mother's presentation,
while your ship here took me on trip down memory lane."
"Perfect! Though I won't be able to join you considering I was just
there. Wouldn't want to run into myself. But you can attend nonetheless."
"One thing though," Christine said as she followed the Doctor into
the TARDIS. "I don't drink tea."
The Doctor harrumphed. "Don't drink tea? Well, we'll soon see to
that." The door swung shut, and the TARDIS faded from existence.
Epilogue:
Doctor Grace Holloway was now one of the most widely renowned
cardiologists in the world. People hundreds of thousands of miles away would
contact her, and ask for her consultation on their cases. Grace had discovered
at least one way to hold back death. It didn't matter now though. What was
the point of being able to fend off death if life had lost all its joy.
Christine had been at the ceremony, Grace had seen her. She'd given
her a little wave, and Christine in turn had given Grace a thumbs up. That
had been nine months ago though. Later that day they found Christine's car
abandoned on Maple Drive. There was minimal damage to the vehicle, but they
had been unable to find any trace of Christine herself. The police had
continued to search for the next three months. Finally they came and told
Grace that until any further evidence came to light, she would be labeled as
missing, presumed dead.
Grace had not handled it well. She had attacked the officer,
screaming at him about how he dare say that her daughter was dead. The other
officers had pried her away, and Grace had just broke down weeping. Six
months later there was still no sign of her. Grace did little aside from
work and search for Christine on her own.
A noise startled Grace. It hadn't been overly loud, but she had
heard it. Coming from the back door. Grace moved to pick up the telephone,
when a person appeared in the doorway to the den. Grace froze. She had the
same red hair, it was just cropped shorter. She was rounder of the hip and
breast and her features, as well as her bearing, seemed to have matured.
Grace couldn't speak but mouthed her daughter's name. Christine swept in to
the room and embraced her mother.
"I've missed you so much," Christine whispered. She could feel her
mother's tears falling onto her back.
"What happened to you? Where did you go? Why didn't you contact
me," Grace wept.
"Mother, I..."
"Perhaps, I should explain." Grace released her daughter and opened
her eyes. The voice, that voice, yet it couldn't be. That had been more
than twenty years ago. It was though. He stood there, smiling, looking just
as he had those many years ago. Time had not quite been as kind to her.
"Hello Grace," the Doctor said. "I really must apologize to you. I
told Christy I could have her back the moment she left. Unfortunately the
TARDIS has been acting up again lately, and without chancing a random landing
on Skaro or some other clime, this was closest I could get. I'm sorry Grace."
Suddenly Grace understood. The changes in her daughter. The
inexplicable disappearance. The lack of any evidence of her anywhere.
"How long have you been away? You're a woman now," Grace asked. Christine
looked toward the Doctor, as it was easy to lose track of time whilst inside
the TARDIS.
"Oh, as your calendar goes, and the length of time we've been traveling
together according to mine... I'd say roughly three Earth years."
"I've missed three years of your life?"
"Ah," the Doctor interrupted. He took Grace by the hand and began to
lead her to the door. "I think I can help you there. Did I ever explain to
you about the TARDIS telepathic circuits and something called the Matrix."
The Doctor continued to outline his plan to the two women as he made his way
to the TARDIS.
That night a strange groaning sound woke the neighbors of Doctor
Grace Holloway. Some say it sounded like an animal, others thought it was
a tank or other such military vehicle. All that was certain though was that
in the morning, Doctor Grace Holloway had disappeared without a trace.
A Second Epilogue
They watched the TARDIS dematerialize. "They're off. Do you realize
what we have done? The laws we have transgressed." The elderly man, swathed
in a luminescent white, turned to his companion. "Do you?"
Where as the older man was the essence of illumination, his companion
was clouded in shadows, his face indiscernible in the dim street lights.
The little man pushed the brim of his hat away from his craggy features.
"Yes, I do. But it was you yourself who said the darkness must be fought.
It cannot be allowed to gain a foothold in Gallifrey. If the Timelords fall
then all hope for the rest of the universe dies with it. The woman is the
key, we both know that. That is why you came to me, and not him."
The elderly man frowned. "There must be some other way."
"There isn't. We are making up for lost time as is. No more moves
to be made, you need only watch as everything plays out and there is finally
resolution." The little man began to move away.
"Where are you going?"
"I can't stay. There are other horrors out there. We must maintain
the balance between good and evil, so the line is clearly drawn for this
event. That is my responsibility." With that said the little man walked
away into the night.
[End]
to the BBC. I do not intend to make any profit from this story, and do not
wish to infringe upon the BBC's rights. This is solely to show my
appreciation for the show, derive enjoyment from writing it and having others
read it.
Dedication: This is dedicated to Christy, the first person I've ever met who
became a Doctor Who fan as a result of watching the television movie.
"Lost Time"
by Dave Ziegler
Most people would have thought it to be a television, an aging one
at that. A dull, scuffed metal box supporting an ancient black and white
monitor. Then, of course, there were a few knobs and switches thrown in for
their limited functional value. Across the static laden screen the words
"Destination: Earth. Humanian Era. Local Dateline: January 20, 2020"
were obscured. Yes, most anyone would have thought it appeared deceptively
like a television, not realizing its real function or power, but then a
TARDIS was a deceptive machine.
"Its absolutely perfect." The Doctor grinned inanely to himself.
"Good girl," he enthused whilst giving the oak and brass surface of the
console an affectionate pat. "And here I thought that this little trip might
take us awhile to get right. What a doubting Thomas I've been."
The Doctor lingered near the console for a moment, his fingers gently
playing over the curve of his lips in a thoughtful manner. "Now, where was I?
Ah yes! Mr. Wells!" He nimbly hopped off the dais on which the console was
positioned and began to weave through the assorted ornamentations that had
collected in the room over the past several centuries. The Doctor ceased his
lithe dance as he reached an ornately carved armchair lined back and seat with
plush velvet cushions.
"Hmm. It was so kind of Victoria to have bestowed this upon me. She
need not have rewarded me for flushing the Master out of parliament." The
Doctor suddenly frowned. "Or was it Elizabeth? Ah well, its rather academic
at the moment." He slid neatly out his dark green coat, threw it onto a
nearby hat stand, and dropped into the armchair with a satisfied thud. With
one hand he produced a mug of tea, while the other seized a battered copy of
"The War of the Worlds."
"Here we are." The Doctor sipped his tea, noting the sour taste of
the brew for later rectification, and began to read the novel in earnest.
Christine Holloway stood in front of the mirror and frowned. It
wasn't that she was dissatisfied with her features, she had managed to garner
many a date with just their presence, or the clothing she had decided to
wear. The pale cream blouse and baby blue pants were the perfect ensemble.
It was just that... well,... she was nervous.
She inhaled deeply, and let the air slowly trickle from a pin hole
formed between her lips. Some of the tension locked in her stomach and
shoulders dissipated, but Christine could still feel the clenching and
releasing of random muscles.
Nerves couldn't get the best of her today. Her appearance needed to
be dignified, refined even. She would be in the presence of the most
proficient, competent, and regarded doctors in the world. And they were all
gathering to celebrate the accomplishments of her mother, Doctor Grace
Holloway.
Today, in the Meyer Conference Center of Saint Laurence General
Hospital, Christine's mother would be presented with the Samir R. Shaw
Lifetime Achievement Award in the field of medical research. Doctor
Grace Holloway, now senior director of cardiology at the aforementioned
medical institution would become one of the first people not to achieve this
honor posthumously, and would have the distinction of being the first woman
to receive it.
Christine was proud, she was elated, she was nervous... Oh hell. She
was late.
The speedometer read upwards of sixty miles per hour as Christine
increased the pressure her foot exerted on the pedal. How could she have
been so careless as to leave herself only thirty minutes of travel time. It
was a fifty minute commute, and she knew it! Christine pushed the pedal even
nearer to the floor.
The Doctor sprang from his chair as the timerotor ceased the perpetual
clashing that indicated the TARDIS was in flight. He flicked a few switches,
turned a few dials, not quite believing that his temperamental time machine
had arrived at the proper destination in time and space for once. Finally
satisfied that everything was in order, and he had indeed arrived at Earth
during the proper period, the Doctor threw a great brass lever and proceeded
towards the now gaping double doors.
A small, beige, Japanese compact flew around the corner of Maple Drive
and Westchester with a stunning lack of concern for what might be ahead or
behind it. Fortunately Maple Drive was an older roadway, unused and out of
the way. It attracted hardly any traffic or ambitious police officers
looking for an easy ticket write up. It also had the privilege of being the
most direct route from the home of one Christine Holloway to the Saint
Laurence General Hospital.
Christine glanced anxiously at the small gold hands of her watch.
The second hand seemed to leave the bold numerals in a wash of fine crystal
and ebony as it sped by them. There were only five minutes left to the
start of the ceremony, and by her reckoning it was still at least a fourteen
minute drive to the hospital. Christine swore, looked away from her watch,
and screamed.
In the midst of the road, directly in her path, was a tall blue box
with a startled looking man standing just before it. Christine swung the
steering wheel as fast and far to the left as she could manage. Its brakes
screeching, the car swerved just to the left of the box, clipping it with the
passenger side mirror. The plastic cracked with little protest and the
mirror was spat back in the opposite direction. Safely past the box, the car
swung about in a great arc finally coming to rest horizontally across the
lane.
Christine could feel her heart pulsing, as if a great hand had reached
inside her chest and was squeezing the muscle. She couldn't be sure what a
heart attack felt like, but this had to be close. She had almost died for
God's sake. "No," Christine told herself firmly. "I didn't almost die.
That fool almost killed me!"
A flood of rage washed over her. It seemed as if all the reservoirs
of pent up anger, hatred, and frustration were suddenly given leave to burst
from their constraints and into her being. Christine threw the door open and
stalked toward the young man and his battered box.
"I believe this is yours," he said, offering Christine the decapitated
mirror, smiling affably.
"You almost killed me," she hissed. How could this fool be smiling
after what had just happened. He had had as much a chance of dying as she.
"I did? I was rather under the impression that you almost killed me."
"Me! Almost kill you!" Christine felt her face flush a deeper shade
of crimson.
"Yes, in that sedan over there. You were traveling quite quickly and
did not seem to have much control. But you threw yourself out of the way
just in the nick of time." He slapped her affectionately on the back.
"Jolly good driving I'd say."
Christine couldn't form a reply. She tried, she really, truly tried
to formulate some venomous response, but this man's incredible good humor
about the entire episode had completely thrown her.
The man peered concernedly at her for a moment, then deposited the
damaged mirror in Christine's suddenly outstretched palm. She didn't
remember even unclasping her fists, but sure enough her hand was out there
holding a cracked, plastic and glass automotive appendage.
"This seems to have been a rather trying experience for you. Here,"
the man shoved a hand into his pocket and withdrew a bag of confections,
"have a jellybaby. It might make you feel a bit better." When Christine
made no move to take the sweet herself, the man reached into the bag and
popped a candy into her mouth himself. Completely at odds with how she felt,
Christine found herself enjoying the treat. "There you are. I'm sorry I
can't stay and chat, but I've somewhere I need to be. In fact I'm ten years
late already, but... well, you know how time flies." With a broad grin and
a wave of his hand, the young man disappeared into wooded area alongside the
roadway, coattails flapping behind him.
Only when the deep green of the man's absurd coat finally faded from
view did Christine find voice. "He... he just left! How could he just
leave!"
Christine threw the mirror in disgust. There was something odd about
that man. Aside from the fact that he had almost been the cause of her
premature death. What had he been doing hanging about in the middle of the
road with an oblong box anyway? Of course, she couldn't be sure it was his
box, but it seemed to fit with the comic absurdness of the man himself. He
dressed like he was trying to relive the glory of Victorian England, and
brushed off almost getting run down like it was a common occurrence.
Christine walked up to the box and examined it. It was old, the
pitted surface and flaky blue paint confirmed that. Other than that the only
distinguishing thing about it was the legend printed across the top.
"Police Box. Well, I'll just chalk this up to the ineptness of
our esteemed police force." Christine gave the box a sarcastic slap.
"Thanks for noth..."
Christine gaped. The box, it was humming. The pulse felt as if it
was channeling itself through the box and into her. Images began to flash
in her mind.
"Why did you do that?"
"Liven things up! Come on!"
Christine snatched her hand away as if scalded. What was going on
here? Those voices, they seemed eerily familiar. Then there were the
images. They weren't clear, more fuzzy, hazy, as if you saw them through a
fugue. Christine laid her palm back on the surface of the box.
"Yes!"
"What?"
"These shoes! They fit perfectly."
There was a woman. One of good height and build. She bore the same
fiery red hair as Christine herself. Beside her was a man, his image still
clouded. Yet, Christine felt his youth and great age at the same time.
Two forces waging a war for domination.
"Remember Grace! Remember!"
"Reroute the power?"
"In the console room! Go!"
"But you'll die if I leave you!"
"We'll all die if you don't! Run! Run Grace!"
The images began to pile one on another until Christine could no
longer focus on any one of them. They blurred into a soft grey mist. At the
center a small eye coalesced. Its lids fluttered slowly at first, then
blossomed open dragging Christine into the pool of heavy darkness. She tried
to scream but no voice issued from her throat. A great spotlight ignited,
cutting through the claustrophobic blackness. Enveloped in the bright, white
light stood both the man and the woman from the images.
The man now she could recognize. He wore the same dark velvet coat,
tan trousers, and broad grin. His ice blue eyes sparkled with life and
mischief. Her anger subsiding, Christine realized that he appeared as if he
were a child, locked in the constraints of adulthood; no longer an incredibly
polite lunatic who had been responsible for her first brush with death. He
was now someone, and Christine found herself smiling, you just couldn't help
but like.
As for the woman, there was something about her. Something her youth
was hiding from Christine. Then it came to her. "Oh my God," she uttered,
and fell away from the box.
The Doctor strolled cheerfully through the woods and down to the
desolate road, whistling a jaunty tune while swinging the TARDIS key from
his finger. All in all it had been quite a splendid day. Grace had received
her award, as was due. He had told her she'd do great things, hadn't he?
Unfortunately, he had not been able to speak with her. Even if the Doctor
desperately wanted to he had to wait first. For what? Serendipity of course.
"You." The voice halted the Doctor straight in his tracks. He spun
slowly around until he faced his accuser.
"Still hanging about are you? While I must admit its a beautiful
day..."
Christine eyed him warily. "You are him, aren't you?"
"Who," the Doctor replied, all innocence.
"When I was five, I never slept well. I always dreamt of terrifying
monsters and horrible creatures that lived under my bed and in my closet.
They were just waiting for the chance to snap me up for their dinner.
"My mother tried everything she could to provide restful sleep for
me. Nothing seemed to work. Finally, one night after I crawled into her
empty bed, seeking comfort from the latest bought of nightmares, she told me
a story.
"In her strong, soothing voice she spoke to me of a man who looked
just like you or me on the surface. Beneath the polished exterior though
lurked power, cunning, and intelligence. He never abused his abilities
though. She said he could travel to all times and all places, and throughout
his travels he fought for the weak, the downtrodden, the terrified, those
with no one left to save them from a vicious tyranny. He fought and won
all these battles, and many others. Once even, he had visited San
Francisco and saved my mother from just such a creature. From the kind I
feared were lurking, waiting for me.
"Mother said not to be afraid any more. That if a monster should
ever come after me, this man would arrive and protect me, just as he had
her. He's the one the monsters fear, she said."
The Doctor clapped his hands together excitedly. "Of course!
Grace's daughter!" He strode up to her and wrapped Christine in a fierce
embrace. "I'm so pleased to meet you," he enthused. "Although I recall I'm
not supposed to be meeting you for quite a few years yet." He released her
and shrugged helplessly. "Just another of time's little quirks I guess."
"I always thought you were a myth, a figment of my mother's
imagination," Christine ventured, having recovered from the shock of having
a complete stranger hug her like that.
"No, no, no, no, no. I'm quite real. You see, I'm the Doctor and you
must be Christine Holloway."
Christine groaned. "Christy please. Only mother calls me Christine."
The Doctor seized one of her hands and began to shake it vigorously.
"Christy it is then."
"Is that it," she asked indicating the TARDIS.
"The TARDIS you mean? Yes that's her."
"Hmm. Mother always did say it looked like a cabinet."
The Doctor blanched. "A cabinet! Pay no attention to her old girl,"
the Doctor soothed, patting the TARDIS lightly. "She knows not what she
says." His grin suddenly returned. "You don't fancy a quick trip round the
cosmos do you? I can have you back in time for tea."
Christine found she couldn't help but grin in return. The Doctor's
enthusiasm was highly infectious. "I did miss my mother's presentation,
while your ship here took me on trip down memory lane."
"Perfect! Though I won't be able to join you considering I was just
there. Wouldn't want to run into myself. But you can attend nonetheless."
"One thing though," Christine said as she followed the Doctor into
the TARDIS. "I don't drink tea."
The Doctor harrumphed. "Don't drink tea? Well, we'll soon see to
that." The door swung shut, and the TARDIS faded from existence.
Epilogue:
Doctor Grace Holloway was now one of the most widely renowned
cardiologists in the world. People hundreds of thousands of miles away would
contact her, and ask for her consultation on their cases. Grace had discovered
at least one way to hold back death. It didn't matter now though. What was
the point of being able to fend off death if life had lost all its joy.
Christine had been at the ceremony, Grace had seen her. She'd given
her a little wave, and Christine in turn had given Grace a thumbs up. That
had been nine months ago though. Later that day they found Christine's car
abandoned on Maple Drive. There was minimal damage to the vehicle, but they
had been unable to find any trace of Christine herself. The police had
continued to search for the next three months. Finally they came and told
Grace that until any further evidence came to light, she would be labeled as
missing, presumed dead.
Grace had not handled it well. She had attacked the officer,
screaming at him about how he dare say that her daughter was dead. The other
officers had pried her away, and Grace had just broke down weeping. Six
months later there was still no sign of her. Grace did little aside from
work and search for Christine on her own.
A noise startled Grace. It hadn't been overly loud, but she had
heard it. Coming from the back door. Grace moved to pick up the telephone,
when a person appeared in the doorway to the den. Grace froze. She had the
same red hair, it was just cropped shorter. She was rounder of the hip and
breast and her features, as well as her bearing, seemed to have matured.
Grace couldn't speak but mouthed her daughter's name. Christine swept in to
the room and embraced her mother.
"I've missed you so much," Christine whispered. She could feel her
mother's tears falling onto her back.
"What happened to you? Where did you go? Why didn't you contact
me," Grace wept.
"Mother, I..."
"Perhaps, I should explain." Grace released her daughter and opened
her eyes. The voice, that voice, yet it couldn't be. That had been more
than twenty years ago. It was though. He stood there, smiling, looking just
as he had those many years ago. Time had not quite been as kind to her.
"Hello Grace," the Doctor said. "I really must apologize to you. I
told Christy I could have her back the moment she left. Unfortunately the
TARDIS has been acting up again lately, and without chancing a random landing
on Skaro or some other clime, this was closest I could get. I'm sorry Grace."
Suddenly Grace understood. The changes in her daughter. The
inexplicable disappearance. The lack of any evidence of her anywhere.
"How long have you been away? You're a woman now," Grace asked. Christine
looked toward the Doctor, as it was easy to lose track of time whilst inside
the TARDIS.
"Oh, as your calendar goes, and the length of time we've been traveling
together according to mine... I'd say roughly three Earth years."
"I've missed three years of your life?"
"Ah," the Doctor interrupted. He took Grace by the hand and began to
lead her to the door. "I think I can help you there. Did I ever explain to
you about the TARDIS telepathic circuits and something called the Matrix."
The Doctor continued to outline his plan to the two women as he made his way
to the TARDIS.
That night a strange groaning sound woke the neighbors of Doctor
Grace Holloway. Some say it sounded like an animal, others thought it was
a tank or other such military vehicle. All that was certain though was that
in the morning, Doctor Grace Holloway had disappeared without a trace.
A Second Epilogue
They watched the TARDIS dematerialize. "They're off. Do you realize
what we have done? The laws we have transgressed." The elderly man, swathed
in a luminescent white, turned to his companion. "Do you?"
Where as the older man was the essence of illumination, his companion
was clouded in shadows, his face indiscernible in the dim street lights.
The little man pushed the brim of his hat away from his craggy features.
"Yes, I do. But it was you yourself who said the darkness must be fought.
It cannot be allowed to gain a foothold in Gallifrey. If the Timelords fall
then all hope for the rest of the universe dies with it. The woman is the
key, we both know that. That is why you came to me, and not him."
The elderly man frowned. "There must be some other way."
"There isn't. We are making up for lost time as is. No more moves
to be made, you need only watch as everything plays out and there is finally
resolution." The little man began to move away.
"Where are you going?"
"I can't stay. There are other horrors out there. We must maintain
the balance between good and evil, so the line is clearly drawn for this
event. That is my responsibility." With that said the little man walked
away into the night.
[End]