The Last Ones
Author's Note: Sorry this one's a little shorter than the past couple chapters have been.
An aside: A certain scene in this chapter is inspired by a beautiful piece of fanart, called Distress Signal, by a friend of mine on deviantART, *JohannesVIII, and is used with permission, something which I am most grateful for. It can be found on her profile page or in her gallery.
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Chapter Three: Unexpected Hope
The Doctor was exhausted.
Thoroughly, properly exhausted. After pushing Elodie on the swings until his arms grew sore, the children had insisted on spending another full hour in the park until even they grew tired. Still they wanted to explore and walk around London some more. He agreed, for they did have every right to, but now his legs were tired, and the Doctor was trying his patience. The twins wanted to point out every single little thing they passed, sometimes dragged him over to get a closer look. By the time they wanted to go back to the TARDIS, the Doctor was on the verge of collapsing in the street.
He had no intention of trying to cook again today, so he decided to keep the TARDIS here for a few days, take the kids out for some fish and chips. If they'd liked the orange, wait until they tried the deliciously greasy English snack food. Now, though, he thought he'd give them some time to rest. The twins had violently protested to the idea of a nap ("Naps are for babies!") but they were sporting in the name of relaxing about for a few hours. The Doctor had just relaxed into the jump chair when the twins burst into the console room from the corridors, shirtless and laughing. Somehow Ethan had gotten his hands on a plastic water gun and was gleefully shooting Elodie with it, who shrieked and held up her stuffed lion as a shield. He pounced on her, casting the water gun aside, and she laughed while trying to wriggle out of his grip. A moment's struggle and she was free, diving onto the water gun and pointing it at her brother, her eyes twinkling. "Put your hands in the air! You're under arrest!" she proclaimed, her own childish mimic of the deep, growly voice of a man.
Ethan bolted, and she chased him. They ran in circles, shouting. After a few minutes, the Doctor felt an impending headache. Still, he let it go. But when Elodie shot her water gun at Ethan, missed, and hit the console instead, sparks flew from the metal and the entire TARDIS shook. The little girl paid this no mind, went on running. Perhaps if she'd apologised he would have said nothing. But Elodie didn't seem even to notice as she went on running and laughing. Sparks were still bursting from the TARDIS' console. The TARDIS, all he had left, his last link to his home planet. The Doctor could take it no more, and spoke up. "Oi!"
The children froze in place, their heads swivelling to look at him and their eyes wide. Elodie put down the water gun. "We were just playing," the seven-year-old girl uttered in a small voice. "Just — "
"Whatever you were doing, you might've damaged the TARDIS. Look at her! And you two, just running around carelessly … what's the matter with you? And why the hell aren't you wearing your shirts?" he snapped. The words poured out of him angrily, harshly, and he didn't realise it. "Just go and play quietly in your rooms or something."
Elodie turned away, pressing her lips together, tearful. She backed away from the Doctor and sought Ethan's comfort. Her brother wrapped his arms around his sister protectively, but he looked just as frightened and startled as she did. Ethan had always felt a need to protect his sister, though they were the same age, using the defense that he was the taller of the two siblings. But there was no hiding the hurt expression on his face. And taller though he might be, he was still a little boy.
It took the Doctor a moment to realise what he'd done, that he'd hurt them. His children were still watching him with wide eyes, not letting go of each other for a moment. He understood they were still afraid of him. Somehow, it was this thought that caused him to soften. The Doctor knew what it was to be feared. Many alien races feared him. But he had never thought he would be feared by humans, and certainly not children. Certainly not his own children. He took in the sight of them , the twins, his twins, gripping each other tightly, and winced.
"Hey," he said, trying to soften his voice. He slid out of the jump chair and bent down to their height. "Hey. Sorry. I shouldn't've gotten cross like that. Er, that was wrong of me … it's okay. C'mon here ... " The Doctor reached for them, but they didn't come. They just stayed there, though slowly and hesitantly they released each other and stood watching him, wary looks still in their eyes.
The Doctor sighed. He stood up and stated awkwardly, "I'm gonna go and have a bath or something, I haven't in a few days, okay? You two can keep playing if you want. The TARDIS will be okay." The twins were still looking at him, but Ethan slowly nodded. The Doctor tried for that forced grin again, then hurried from the room, taking the steps down to the corridors two at a time. He could feel the children's eyes on him as he walked away, even when he ducked into the bathroom.
She'd redecorated in the hours they'd been out. The floor and walls were now made up on new tiles, these ones an ivory green. They were also etched in Gallifreyan symbols – mostly the names of planets and alien races, but it was another link to home, a language he thought he'd never see again, and the Doctor's fingers brushed against the characters, almost hesitantly, as if afraid they might disappear. A small plastic cup by the sink now held two brightly coloured, child-size toothbrushes and a tube of mint toothpaste. There was also a shower stall now instead of a bathtub. Good, he'd never been as fond of baths as he was of showers.
The Doctor undressed, stepped into the shower, and turned the water to an ice-cold temperature. He did not use soap or wash his body, just stood there with his eyes closed as the icy water hit his body with enough force to keep him alert. Only when he could scarcely stand the cold did he change the water, now to a scalding temperature. As it hit his body and ran in streams down his back, he could feel it burning, but he remained there, uncaring. After a while, the water changed in calefaction to something more comfortable, something he could not torture himself with, and this time he remained under the warm, not boiling, water for a while. When he finally turned it off and stepped out, it struck him he'd forgotten to find himself a towel. The Doctor dug through the cupboard under the sink and eventually found one for himself folded and placed underneath a large bucket filled with cleaning rags towards the back of the cupboard. He dried off and changed into the same clothes, though she'd left him a new shirt, this one a thermal dark green top with long sleeves. Once dressed, he sat and rested his head against the wall. "Thanks, old girl," he breathed out. "For everything."
When he exited the bathroom he could still hear the children laughing. This time he was glad of the noise, realised he needed it. In those countless, horrible days he'd spent alone, there'd only been silence, nothing more than silence to keep him company. No longer any sense of his people's presence in his head, that psychic he'd gotten used to in his nine hundred years. Just an emptiness. Now, at least, there was something, even the faintest buzzing sense of his children in his head.
A long time ago, when he'd travelled with his friends, companions, their presence another warm part of him residing in his memories. He'd lost them too, in all sorts of painful ways. And eventually, he'd told himself it was best he travel alone so he wouldn't hurt anyone else. He had taken in his children was because they needed him, and they were his children, for no other reason than that. And right now, he was glad he had them, both physically and in his mind. He was quickly starting to get attached to them, he realised with alarm, despite his best efforts not to allow himself to become anchored to anyone or anything, because in the end, someone got hurt. But his children were not like his companions, because he would raise them right here in the TARDIS, hell, maybe even keep her parked here in this very alleyway, where they'd always be safe. He would no longer visit other worlds and protect those alien planets, because he'd caused enough damage, was terrified of doing so again. Those worlds would be better off without him, didn't deserve him, and he didn't deserve them.
Of course, his children didn't deserve him either. But at least he could try.
He climbed up the steps and entered the console room. The children, who'd put their shirts back on at some point, stopped their playing and looked at him a moment, watching his every movement. When he simply settled down in the jump chair and smiled, Ethan began to return to his play. Elodie, however, approached the Doctor. She climbed into his lap, put her arms around his neck, and rested her little head against his broad shoulder. His breath caught and carefully, his hand reached for her head, stroked her hair. The little girl said nothing, just remained there with her head against his shoulder as he stroked her blonde locks. Ethan joined in on this moment of bonding, sitting at the Doctor's feet and resting his head against his knees, and the Doctor stroked his son's hair with his other hand. The little family — though he wondered if, with this twisted and broken relationship only just starting to develop, they could really call themselves that — remained that way for a while.
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The moment was interrupted by Elodie sitting up at last, squirming and tugging on the sleeve of his jacket. His eyes slid in her direction, that little face with the blue eyes and scraggly blonde hair. For a moment, he could see how she took after him — his fifth body, anyway. "Can we get something to eat now?" she was asking, head cocked to one side.
"It's been a while since we ate," Ethan put in, nodding. "And you didn't have anything at all."
"Okay. Yeah. Sure." The Doctor's words were straining to sound gentle and reassuring, the way a father's might. The way a father's should. He motioned for Elodie to climb from his lap, and she scuttled off with a small smile. Her brother crawled back as well, as if to give the Doctor much-needed room.
The Doctor got to his feet and fumbled around in the pockets of his leather jacket in the hopes of finding some money. He'd not put anything in the pockets himself of course, but the clothing in the TARDIS usually tended to be well stocked with all sorts of knick-knacks. Many of them were useful, others not. Indeed, as he dug through the many jacket pockets (and the twins looked on curiously) he found some takeout bags from a Prêt a Manger in London (had he worn this jacket before and forgotten?), the remote control for a Wii, a little plastic bag filled with seeds for a rare plant from the planet Sto, omnifarious coins and notes for various planet's currencies (including, thankfully, from Earth), and to his surprised delight, a new sonic screwdriver. He'd broken the other one after the war, by banging it repeatedly against the console in a fit of rage, and until now the TARDIS hadn't bothered replacing it. He felt the rare tiniest pull of a smile on his lips; he'd missed the old thing.
He turned to the children. "Ready?" The words weren't as forced this time as they had been last time he'd said them.
Elodie nodded seriously. "Yes." Ethan nodded too, so the Doctor pushed open the doors to the TARDIS and they stepped outside.
Evening had fallen since they'd been in the park, and the sky was tinted with the light purples and oranges of twilight, pastel shades blended together in the sky like a watercolour painting. The city was cast in an illusion of promises and hope, that tomorrow would be kind, all of it illuminated by a setting sun.
They got their dinner at a fish and chips shop called Poppies, on Hanbury Street, and ate on a park bench not far away. And the children were delighted with it all. The orange had been one thing, but they'd never tasted anything like deep-fried halibut, like crispy and warm chips. The Doctor watched, bemused, as they devoured the food, little fingers covered in grease. When they finished and were wiping the oil off on their pants legs, Elodie noticed that the Doctor had left his food untouched in his lap, still wrapped in paper and warm. "Aren't you hungry, Daddy?" Against her own will, her stomach growled. She was still hungry.
The Doctor shook his head. "Nah. Not really. You two can have mine if you like."
Elodie hesitated briefly, wondering which would win: her hunger or her compassion. In the end, she shook her head no. "We already ate something though." She nodded at the food. "You should have something too."
It had been a long time since he'd eaten. He wasn't hungry, never was anymore, but he knew he needed something. But the children were hungry too, and they'd never had this kind of food before. Didn't they deserve more, after all they'd been through? The Doctor hesitated, then looked at Elodie's serious expression, seriousness not found in the eyes of a seven-year-old, and Ethan wore the same expression. He was sceptical, but after a moment, the Doctor nodded. He unwrapped his food, and for the first time in forever, he ate.
And it was fantastic.
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Later, when the Doctor was putting the children to bed back in the TARDIS, it occurred to him. He'd forced the kids to brush their teeth and to put on their pyjamas, and now he was tucking them into bed in the room the TARDIS had made, her soft humming a soundtrack in the background.
"Sorry I keep getting cross with you two," he said slowly. "It's just … well, let's say sometimes I get cross without meaning to. You don't deserve it."
Elodie shrugged. "It's okay, Daddy," she said, not meeting his gaze. She still blamed him, he could tell. She did not elaborate further, just laid down and tucked the blankets around her small frame herself.
Ethan, who'd already been tucked in, sat up from the bed opposite and eyed his father and sleeping sister cautiously before nodding in agreement to Elodie's statement. "Yeah, it's okay," he echoed. The young boy drew his knees to his chest, rested his chin there. "Auntie Sakura used to get cross too, sometimes. I think she was sad after Mummy died." A beat. "Did someone you loved die, too, Daddy?"
The Doctor's breath caught. "What makes you say that?"
Ethan's reply was simple, but mumbled sleepily as he rubbed at his eyes and lay back down. "You seem so sad." The little boy yawned, then rolled over and tucked the stuffed lion under his arm.
The Doctor moved from Elodie's bed to Ethan's and started to tuck the blankets around his seven-year-old son, but the little boy squirmed away and held the sheets tightly in one fist. Ethan mumbled something, the Doctor didn't catch the words, but perhaps he didn't want to know. He was grateful when his son stopped murmuring into the pillow and eventually fell asleep, his nose buried in the lion's fur and one small hand still gripping the sheets tightly. The Doctor stroked his overlong blond hair; Ethan twitched but didn't wake. Eventually, the weary traveller got to his feet and exited the room, clicking the light out behind him and shutting the door.
He wasn't tired yet, didn't want to go to sleep. Besides, he only needed an hour's sleep a night, and while he wasn't sure how many hours he'd slept the night before, it was certainly well over one. He'd needed it of course, but now he decided to do something he'd not done in a long time, and that was try to fix the TARDIS. While he hadn't brought it up, her console was still bursting with the occasional spark.
The Doctor whipped his sonic screwdriver from his jacket's pocket and bent down by the console, sticking his head underneath. He could have removed a portion of the metal grating floor and tinkered with the jumble of wires underneath, but he couldn't be bothered to, and besides, the problem was with the console, that was all. He'd been fumbling for a while when he heard a voice coming from behind him. "Daddy? What're you doing?"
It was Elodie, standing there barefoot and in her pyjamas, rubbing at her eyes sleepily. The seven-year-old hesitated a moment, then approached her father and crouched down next to him. "Is something wrong with it? Is it 'cause of me and Ethan and the water gun?"
The Doctor wasn't sure whether to answer honestly or not, but in the end, he chose to lie. He didn't want her to feel guilty, even though he was still privately irked about it, so he lied. "What, this? Nah, 'course it's not about that. It's just, the TARDIS can be a little fussy sometimes. It's nothing." He smiled at her, and this time, it felt real.
Elodie looked relieved. She sat down in the jump chair, and without her brother sharing it with her, the seat dwarfed her little seven-year-old body. The pyjamas and the stuffed toy snuggled close to her chest only added to the image. She curled up against the back of the chair. "I'm really happy we found you, Daddy," she said, words still thick with sleep. "Really happy." She was smiling into her stuffed lion.
The Doctor, who'd returned to his tinkering, looked up and gave her yet another smile. "Y'know, I'm happy too."
Elodie nodded. "When Auntie Sakura started to get really sick, she almost sent out a distress signal. But then we found out about you. I'm glad she didn't send out that distress signal."
Her words made his hearts skip a beat. Something that hadn't occurred to him before began to form in his mind, hope began to blossom in his chest. The Doctor shot to his feet, hitting his head on the console as he went. He grinned, a real one this time. "Elodie! Yes! That's a fantastic idea!"
His daughter seemed perplexed. "What is?"
"A distress signal, of course!" The Doctor picked Elodie up by her underarms and spinning her around in a circle in a moment of euphoria.
The startled child let out an exclamation that mounted into a laugh as he spun her around again, and again, until at last she had to shriek out between giggles, "Daddy, stop, I'm dizzy! Daddy!"
He spun her round once more before setting her down. "Oh, Elodie," he said, though the words were spoken more to himself than to his daughter. "You little genius. Now, let's get you back to bed, yeah? Daddy has some business to take care of." Elodie began to protest, but he ushered her off by swatting lightly at her back and leading her by the shoulders to her bedroom, where he hastily tucked her in and kissed her forehead before dashing out into the corridor and checking several rooms. Eventually, he found a crate full of distress signals, blank and ready to be used.
A distress signal. Such a simple little thing. The key to any hopes of salvation he might have. His hands held the small box gingerly as he hurried to the console room. Setting the box back down again, and recorded his message: "If you are receiving this message," he said, his voice trembling with excitement, "please make yourself known. I am the Doctor and I am looking for survivors of the Last Great Time War."
After saying the words, he replayed it time and time again. When at last he was ready, the Doctor flew the TARDIS up into space, where he opened the doors and sent the distress signal out and among the stars. It floated away from him, that tiny beacon of hope, growing smaller and smaller until it couldn't be seen at all.
