Title: Falls the Shadow

Author: Nemo the Everbeing

oOo oOo Chapter 4: A Trip in Time oOo oOo

The Doctor had insisted they not take the lift, so Ace had followed him to the stairs and tried her best not to give voice to her complaints. Taking the stairs did make sense. With power fluctuations like the one they'd just experienced, relying on anything electronic was a very bad idea.

But her legs hurt. Badly. Felt like she'd been electrocuted. Without the being-dead part, of course. She'd come close on a few occasions; she was no stranger to a few thousand stray volts. Each time she swore it would be the last, but it never was. Same as it'd never be the last time her legs ached like buggery. Each step down caused them to nearly buckle. She clung to the rail and gritted her teeth. She was Ace, dammit. She was better than this.

So she made her way behind a maddeningly steady-footed Doctor without a word of protest. Down they went. And down and down, past doorways to other floors illuminated under bare glow balls which continued to flicker erratically. The lift had been so fast and efficient she hadn't quite realized how bloody far they were from the ground floor. Even with the view out her window she hadn't realized. With this sort of thing constantly happening to them, they should really book lower rooms.

At least her head was clearer. She had felt better since the Doctor'd done whatever he had to her head (and he really shouldn't think she hadn't noticed), but the images were still there. She hadn't figured seeing her own dead body would creep her out as much as it had. That, however, was comforting compared to the one thing she couldn't help but notice was glaringly absent in every possible vision of her future: an intimate relationship.

Maybe she'd missed it. Maybe, in that brief moment of omniscience, death and fighting and all the huge stuff had overwhelmed it. She hadn't seen them drinking tea either, but she was sure that wherever there was a Doctor, tea wouldn't be far behind. It was just frustrating not to have seen it. She'd have figured there would be at least one reality in which the Doctor and Ace were, well, the Doctor and Ace. Together.

Maybe all those universes were trying to tell her something. Maybe they were whispering that this thing between the Doctor and her was crazy. Maybe it was even what had broken up so many Doctors and Aces. Maybe—

"You shouldn't dwell on it," the Doctor said.

Ace felt a moment of panic. "Were you listening in on my thoughts?" she snapped, sounding angrier than she'd intended.

Her tone stopped him and he turned, his expression shuttered and almost hurt. In past years, when she'd been younger and they hadn't trusted one another as much as they did now, she would have suspected a con in that look. Now she knew him well enough to discern between real and put-on. This was genuine. "I wouldn't do that without your permission, and you know it," he said. The Doctor retraced his steps back up several stairs to stand closer to her. "Your silence was, to borrow a phrase, speaking volumes."

"Yeah, well, maybe my silence was speaking volumes about my aching legs."

"It could have been. But it wasn't."

She didn't really have a comeback for that.

He sighed. "The problem with catching a glimpse of the multiverse is that you suddenly think you've seen fate. An image here, an image there, and your mind picks up on the patterns. You end up thinking that if it's happened in some realities—especially if it's happened in many realities—then it's bound to happen here. But you have to understand that anything is possible. That's the only real pattern the multiverse can show you. No two realities are alike. Our existence is dictated only by ourselves; by the choices we make." He gave her a quirk of a smile. "So stop thinking about dying. That's a very long way off, and we've got work to do."

Ace smiled, though probably not for the reasons he thought she did. For a genius, he could be so wrong sometimes. Then again, being misunderstood was infinitely preferable to being let down gently, so she wasn't about to complain.

The Doctor turned and continued on his way though, she noted, at a slower pace than before. Amazing. She'd said that her legs ached as more of a quip than something she'd thought he would take into account, but he'd listened.

They continued down the stairs, past floor after floor, and Ace got the strangest feeling that they were the only guests at this hotel. Where were the others? Why wasn't this stairwell packed with people wanting to know why their electricity was having a seizure?

She voiced her concerns to the Doctor, her voice ringing odd and flat in the stairwell.

"Yes, I'd noticed that," he said, continuing down. "Maybe it's just off-season."

"Didn't look much like off-season when we checked in," Ace said.

"Hmm. It's possible we get a floor each."

"Yeah, about as possible as free room-service. But say that's true. We've gone past half a dozen floors now."

The Doctor tossed a glance at her over his shoulder. "They're all heavy sleepers?"

Ace rolled her eyes. "You don't believe in coincidence," she reminded him. For some reason, the comment made him hesitate briefly before he continued on his way.

"No, I don't, at that," he acceded. "You're right. It's very curious." He veered abruptly, making for the doorway to the third floor. The light above it was flickering wildly; even more so than the other floors they'd passed. "Shall we see if anyone's about?"

What he was really saying was that he was going to explore, and she was welcome to come along. Like she had any choice in the matter. She caught his arm before he opened the door and said, "Let me go first, all right?"

He frowned but didn't object. Ace palmed the access panel and the door slid open. Beyond was a hallway identical to theirs except for a few variations in artwork. It boasted the same champagne-colored marble, the same tannish-rose walls, the same intricate gold sconces. Ace tried not to feel creeped out.

"You ever seen The Shining, Professor?" she asked.

"Can't say that I have. Why?"

"Just really wishing I hadn't."

"Ah." He rapped on the first door they came to. No response. He moved on to the next.

"What are we supposed to say if we find anyone?" Ace asked as she decided to make this quick by tackling her own side of the hall.

She heard the Doctor's voice behind her. "The logical thing to ask in a situation like this: if they're having power trouble."

She rapped on her second door. "Right," she whispered. While she was waiting for a reply she knew wasn't going to come, she glanced down at her outfit. "Then we can be mistaken for maintenance. Love this job."

She moved along to the next door, wondering if they could convince the other guests that it was casual-clothes-Friday. Assuming this planet had Fridays.

She rapped. The door slid open. She stepped back, expecting to be greeted by some irate client. Or maybe just a worried client. Some form of client. But there was no one there. Just a room with the lights off and a door that opened when she knocked. Nothing suspicious about that, oh no. Whatever they were dealing with here, it didn't have a very finely honed sense of subtlety.

Of course, even knowing that this was probably a trap didn't stop her going in. She took a small step inside and winced as she was hit by the smell of something like overripe fruit. Something rotting where it pressed the plastic bag. Peaches or nectarines, maybe. She fumbled at the wall for a light-switch. She felt more than saw the Doctor by her side.

Then the lights came on and the room was thrown into stark relief. The smell was explained, and Ace really wished it had been fruit. Instead, clinging to one another in the center of the room was a huddle of partially-mummified bodies. She inhaled with a hiss, automatically gave the shock a few seconds to settle, and then breathed, "Holy shit." She stared at their sad remains clutching together like they were cold. She swallowed hard and stepped closer, forcing herself to analyze rather than freak out. There was no obvious cause of death. "How'd they get here?" she asked, more to order the questions in her head than in anticipation of an answer. "Wouldn't someone know? Management, or whatever? Do they know?" She didn't understand. First the toga patrol, then the experience in the hall, and now this. "How is it all connected?"

She turned to the Doctor, expecting him to know. This was what he did. He connected the dots. But in this instance, there was no glitter of comprehension in his eyes, no smug grin. His expression was clouded. He didn't understand what was going on any more than she did. He might have some theories, but none in good enough shape to share yet.

Looked like it was down to good old-fashioned detective work, then. She drew closer, trying to ignore the way the smell coated her tongue and the back of her throat like a paste. She hated this part of the job.

She knelt next to the knot of people, inspecting them all. The first thing she noticed was the grit of sand under her knees. She wondered how it had got there, but was sidetracked from any further musings by the dead bodies. They were humanoid, no doubt. The dry hairs that still clung to their heads were mostly the bright hues of blue belonging to the locals, but there were one or two others mixed into this group.

"Looks like they've been freeze-dried," she said. "Like they got chucked out an air-lock without a space-suit."

The Doctor was suddenly across from her, kneeling down and inspecting the group as well. "Hmm . . ." he said.

"Yeah?"

"It does rather look like the effects of explosive decompression, doesn't it?" he asked.

"But you're not buying it," she supplied, willing to string him along if it got his whole theory out.

"There are certain physiological symptoms missing. The bursting of blood vessels, the cracking of expanding skin. In fact, every symptom which would indicate exposure to vacuum." He leaned back on his heels.

Ace inspected the nearest corpse more closely. "You're right," she muttered. "It's only the extreme cold showing up. The mummification could just be time." She looked at him again, and he was troubled. She could tell he had something on his mind, and it was her job to fish it out of him. "Space without vacuum. Got any ideas?"

His jaw was set. "The Void."

"Come again?"

"Imagine nothing. Not outer space, because even in space there is form and function. There are pockets of gas and life. There's energy in space, but in the Void? Nothing. Nothing for all eternity. Everything within the Void would be at a constant temperature of absolute zero if it existed at all. That's the paradox, you see: you fall into the Void, and it's as though that action never happened. Because you were never in the Void. You just cease to be. Swallowed up by all that nothingness."

Ace looked back at the corpses in dismay. Touched by the Void? "But if they were touched by something like that, shouldn't what you just said happen? Shouldn't they get swallowed?"

He shook himself. "Of course," he said. "You're right. There's no possible way they could have come in contact with the Void and still exist here. Clearly there's—" His breath stuttered out of him. Ace looked to see him staring at the huddle of bodies, his eyes round and distant with horror. She moved awkwardly on her knees to his side and followed his gaze.

And there they were. Ace and the Doctor, laying a short distance from the others. Something cold gripped Ace about the chest, and she didn't know whether it was the horror of what she was looking at, or the hollow sense of inevitability that accompanied it. It was more than 'this is what's going to happen'. It was 'this is what I've been expecting to see since the door slid open'.

She heard a sound and realized she'd let out a whimper of fear. The humiliation of making such a noise steadied her sufficiently to move past the shock. She studied the remains of what looked like the Doctor, because looking at herself was too much for the time being. He was in some of the worst condition of the lot. His skull was stripped bare of anything but bone, and it was facing up as though he'd been staring at the ceiling when he died, lying on his side. His jawbone gaped open, but that could be down to gravity as much as anything. Didn't mean he'd died screaming.

Oh God. Don't let him die screaming. Anything but that.

But she was sure it was the Doctor because he was still wearing that ridiculous pullover. It was slashed across the chest and speckled, though not soaked, with blood. The blood was brown and old, and the colors of the yarn were faded.

Ace's doppelganger was huddled against him, also on its side, clinging. Her head was twisted the same way his was, looking up. She well may have been following his gaze, but there was no way to tell. Her eyes were just wrinkled bits of mummified tissue. Her dried hair was loose and fell about her face.

Ace—the one who was alive and real and scared to her marrow—scrambled to her feet and backed away from the sight. She was flashing back on those million ways she could have died. She hadn't seen this one. This was new. Like the Doctor had said before: anything was possible. Even getting frozen and mummified in the middle of a lump of strangers in an otherwise empty hotel room. She felt the slightest bit hysterical.

Then the Doctor was grabbing her shoulders and pulling her from the room. They staggered to the door, and as they did, Ace looked back.

There was nothing there. The bodies were gone.

They stumbled out into the hallway and Ace rounded on the Doctor. "What the hell is going on here, Professor? I'm trying to put the pieces together, but it's like a jigsaw where none of the bits even fit!"

He looked up at her, his expression shadowed. "I can't be sure, you understand—"

"I don't care!"

"It was a trip in time."

Ace exhaled. "We take trips in time all the time!"

"Not like that, a trip. Like a reactor trip or a stumble. Time has stumbled."

She took a deep breath. She was no good if she was panicking. She focused on the Doctor's words. "Like we were . . . what? Looking at another moment in time? Falling over it?"

"More like a momentary glimpse of something in either the past or the future. You don't exist in that time, but you get a flash of it. And if it's the future, you must remember that it's only one possible path."

She nodded, running her hands through her hair. "Okay. A possible future. I can run with that."

He was thinking now. "This might not be the first time this has happened," he said.

"What?"

He started back for the stairwell and she hurried to stay at his side. "Before we went to the ball, I looked in the mirror and I was certain that I saw my next incarnation standing behind me. I brushed it off, of course. This sort of thing does tend to happen to a Time Lord more often than most other people, but . . ."

"But it could be connected. Everything could: the toga guys, the time trips, what happened in the hallway upstairs. It could all be happening for the same reason." She poked him in the arm. "I know this look on you, Professor. You've got an idea and you don't like where it's taking you."

He waved a hand. "Less of an idea and more of an impression. There's been a feeling in the air ever since the incident in the hallway, and I know I've felt it before. I just can't place it!"

The power took another nose-dive, and they were plunged into blackness. Ace grabbed the Doctor's arm to be sure he didn't wander off or, worse yet, get dragged off while she couldn't see.

The lights came back on, and they weren't alone.