SIXTEEN
Bronnin pushed the Doctor into the room and hardly waited for her sister to slip in behind her before she slammed the door. She turned, studied the door handle, and then bent over to whip the lock round quickly.
She straightened and turned, putting her hands on her hips and pinning the Doctor with a gaze that could have turned butter to vapour.
"Now you explain what you were doing, going back for that machine," she said, unexpectedly calmly.
"I had to know more about it," he said easily, letting his hands slide into his pockets and watching her.
"And why did you have to know more about it?" she demanded coolly.
"Because there's something not right about this whole thing," he said. His eyes turned large and severe, and she almost hesitated. "The whole two machines thing, and one of them not working, and the whole idea of using it for producing energy – it's all wrong. It's all fake. Something fake about the entire Krimmanhellanian Dominion of Solidarity and Unity," he said.
"It's not the only thing around here that's fake, is it?" she snapped, ignoring her sister's look of confusion. "You're the biggest fake of all, aren't you, Doctor Campbell? Is that even your real name? Or will it disappear the same way as that charming accent of yours?"
He opened his mouth to answer, but she advanced on him, standing close enough to poke him in the chest stiffly.
"You need to understand why I'm so angry," she snapped. "After Father died I thought all the light had gone out of the universe – there was nothing out there, there were no amazing places to see, all my hopes had burst like a child's balloon. And then you turned up," she snapped, jabbing harder at his shirt. "And you made me think there was magic behind every star again, that there could be beauty in watching atmospheres ignite waking suns, every morning above far away planets. You were the greatest, most amazing, most special thing I'd ever found in my life. I believed you. I loved you."
"It's still me," he said quietly. She paused, watching him.
"Is it? I wonder," she whispered. She cleared her throat. "It is entertaining to watch the smaller, more dense aliens around you? Is this why poor Fergus is here? To amuse you? To give you something to feel superior to!" she demanded, but her voice was hoarse.
The Doctor's face simply melted into a sympathetic half-smile, bending up at one side. He took a deep breath, then looked around the room slowly, rocking back on his heels.
He looked back at her, and his face was nothing but sad.
"He's here because without someone to show it to, it means nothing," he said patiently. "I've seen the most beautiful, incredible things in several universes." He peeled her finger away from his shirt, closing his fingers round hers tightly. "I've seen pulsars setting off new forms of life on infantile planets. I've seen the rings of Saturn on fire after a meteor storm. I was there when the first amoeba split by accident on Gertarli Prime," he said, his voice quiet but urgent.
She let out a breath, unable to look away from his omnipotent gaze.
"I've seen a sun boil into a black hole, wiping out an entire system, only to be replaced several million years later by a larger, brighter star. But so what?" he breathed sadly. "So what? Who cares what I've seen? I have no-one, Bronnin, no-one, and nothing. Everyone I knew, everyone I cared about, everything connected to my home and my system is gone." He lifted his eyebrows resignedly as he continued. "And it's never coming back," he added, shaking his head sadly. "All I've got is a ship, a faint reminder of a time when I had family and I had a real home under my feet. Of academies and universities, of birthday parties and musical bands, of tin dogs and McCrimmons, of replacement screwdrivers and friends from my own world who knew and understood."
He paused and she swallowed, not trusting herself to speak.
"He's here because it amuses him to be here. Because there's nothing more important, more precious, than Time itself. And he decided to put his Time in my hands. There's nothing I won't do for him, or show him, because he's give me his Time. And that's all I'll ever have – snap-shots of how they see the Universe as scary, or fun, or this big awesome thing we can play in, instead of how I see it. I get pieces of other people's lives, chunks of someone else's Time, spent on me. It's all I've got, and I can't even see it or touch it or smell it or bottle it, or even measure how it disappears. But it's all I've got."
Bronnin stared up at him, then put a shaky hand over her mouth. It was quiet for a long moment.
"I'm so sorry… I didn't – didn't…" she whispered.
He smiled kindly, letting his head shake but making sure his eyes stayed with hers.
"There's no need," he said quietly, letting go of her hand to take her other one from her face. "You had no idea. No-one ever does. Just me."
"It is still you," she said, closing her eyes and putting her arms round him. She felt his arms round her shoulders tightly and squeezed him. She let out a long, steadying breath.
"There you are, you see?" he asked cheerfully. "Everyone feels better for a hug." He paused, and she sniffed back her tears, determined not to cry. "And tea, actually," he added suddenly.
He looked over and found Kickick sitting down slowly on the chairs provided at the side of the room. She had leaned forward and her head was in her hands.
"Kickick?" he asked quickly, and Bronnin pulled away from him to turn and look at her.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, not moving her hands. "But… Fergus is going to die, isn't he?"
"No," he said firmly. "He's not. There are only three people I trust to perform the kind of surgery needed on him, and Martha Jones is one of them," he said confidently. "He'll be fine."
"Don't humour me," she grumbled.
"Do you want the gory details?" he snapped. "A shot like that will kill a human – after about fourteen hours of bleeding and water loss. The guard was aiming low cos he didn't realise Fergus is human – so he actually hit him in completely the wrong place to do any lasting damage. Martha Jones will patch up the holes, and he'll be hobbling round in a few days."
Bronnin looked back at him.
"Next time, you could think about smoothing that with a little sugar on top," she said calmly, but her gaze was unamused.
"Just trying to put things in perspective," he shrugged.
"So if you're not who you say you are, what is Fergus?" Kickick asked, raising her head. Bronnin walked over and sat slowly next to her, taking her hand.
"Oh, trust me, Mister Campbell is exactly what he says he is. He is from a city – on this planet, actually – called Glasgow. He has been travelling with me for… ooh, just over an Earth year now, I think. And he is a very, very good friend. But he's not my son." He paused, watching her face.
"I knew that," she sighed. "I don't know why. But I knew that. So… when are you going to explain that… that big ship? The one inside the small box?" she asked vaguely.
"It's just a big one inside a small one, that's all," he said cheerfully. "Anything else?"
"Are you… are you really a Time Lord?" Bronnin asked suddenly. Kickick looked at her, shocked.
"A what?" she demanded. The two girls looked at him.
"Yep. That's me. The Time Lord," he said simply.
"But… we've heard of the Time Lords. A long, long time ago," Bronnin said quietly. "They say… they say they did so many amazing things. They protected Time itself," she whispered.
The Doctor shrugged. "They also argued a lot and then got plastered in local pubs," he said dryly, pulling on his ear.
"Where did they go?" she dared. "Where did they hide all that knowledge about Time, and space, and… and all the amazing machines and breakthroughs and –"
"They didn't," he said abruptly. "They're gone. All of them. It's just me."
"You're the only one?" Bronnin asked.
"Yep. Just me. Well, me and the TARDIS – the old girl you met before. She's really tall and really wide – and blue," he smiled pleasantly.
"But–" Bronnin began. The door rattled and they looked over, before Kickick got up and skittered over quickly, unlocking it and pulling it open.
It was a nurse.
"Which one of you is Kickick?" she asked politely. She raised her hand lamely and stepped forward. "Then please come with me," she said abruptly.
Bronnin reached out and squeezed her arm before Kickick turned and looked at the Doctor accusingly. Then she followed the nurse.
The door swung shut and Bronnin blew out a long breath, wandering back to the seats and lowering herself into one unceremoniously.
She leaned forward, put her elbows on her knees, and then her chin in her hands.
"He'll be alright," the Doctor said comfortably.
"Will he, though?" she asked pointedly, looking up at him. "How long have you been doing this? How many friends have you had?"
"Enough to know that, whatever happens to Mister Campbell, I have to go back and get that machine," he said.
"What?" she demanded.
"I left it behind." He looked momentarily annoyed with himself. "It's probably still lying on the floor of that station, next to the guard you whacked over the head."
"I still don't believe I did that," she moaned, rubbing her face in her hands.
"I should watch out for you – you're a crack shot with a shovel," he said honestly, and she stopped rubbing and just looked at him.
"Oh stop it," she managed, almost smiling. "So this ship of yours, this big box in a small one – could it tell us about this machine?"
"Everything," he said firmly. She nodded.
"Right then. We should get going, get back for it right now," she said, getting to her feet.
"I think we should wait to see Martha Jones first," he said wisely.
"Why?"
"She knows more than she's letting on," he said thoughtfully. "She told me to let him pick, and I let him pick. She asked me if I had 'it', and I didn't – I think she meant the machine, looking back. Strange how she didn't ask me–"
She watched his face look surprised.
"Oh! What's the date?" he asked, crossing to the side table and the magazines on it. He picked one up, spying the name and the month. "2007? Is this an old magazine or –"
The door opened again and Kickick and the nurse appeared.
"He's going to be alright," she said, relieved, and Bronnin crossed the room to her, hugging her tightly.
"Told you," the Doctor said smugly. The nurse looked at him.
"You're the Doctor?" she guessed. He nodded. "Then you must stay here to talk to Doctor Jones before you leave," she said.
"Will do," he grinned.
-------------------------------------------------
Martha walked out of the operating theatre, pulling off her green hair cap and wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. She paused to stretch, then took a deep breath and headed to the waiting room.
She pushed the door open quietly, looking in to find two dark-skinned, gold-lined girls asleep on each other on the chairs. They had pushed them together, and were now draped over them very comfortably indeed. She wondered idly which planet they were from.
She looked over at the Doctor. He was sitting bent over, staring at the carpet, his hands round a small plastic cup of standard-issue tea.
"Hey," she said warmly, walking in and letting the door close behind her.
He looked up quickly and now he did grin, very widely, in fact.
"Hey yourself," he said cheerfully, watching her walk over and sit next to him. She watched him sit up and look at her expectantly.
"He's fine," she said quietly. "He'll need a lot of rest, but actually those guns you talked about cauterise most of the damage they do. He was lucky."
"Yeah," he allowed, looking away suddenly.
"What happened?" she asked carefully.
"He was stupid," he said dismissively. She raised her eyebrows at him.
"That's charming, mister," she tutted. "You're supposed to say 'he nearly died and I would have really missed him'," she pointed out.
"He wouldn't have died," he said confidently, putting his left hand out and slapping it down on both of hers brightly, shaking them happily. "I knew you'd see to him."
"Really?" she asked. She leaned against his side and reached over, taking the plastic cup from his hand. "Then why has your tea gone cold?"
"Uhhm… It was cold to begin with?" he hazarded, and she smiled.
"So tell me what's going on. From the beginning," she said.
