Chapter Four: Round the Half-Twist

Rose gazed up at the dead remains of her home. Had her other Doctor felt this way once? In truth, she couldn't feel anything; she was numb. None of it seemed real.

"I'm a menace." The Doctor's whole aspect crumpled. "A danger to the universe. You should have left me on Shada."

All around her, his despair seemed to swirl, nearly palpable. Perhaps more able to respond to his feelings than acknowledge her own, Rose turned to him. "You didn't do this. How is this your fault?"

"How...how is it my fault?" he said, haltingly. "I will tell you. I owe you that. The Void opened up and let the Daleks in because of Rip effects--Dark Energy, that's what fractured the Web of Time. The Kaleds must have continued to develop the Dark Energy technology--meaning, I failed to stop them. I also gave them the formulae for Graviton theory, which allows for travel through time. Ergo, armed with an unlimited source of destructive energy and the power of time travel..." His shoulders slumped; he shook his head. "I think you can work out the rest."

"The Kaleds fought wars...through time." Rose felt suddenly cold, as an icy wave of horror washed over her. "Doctor--"

"How can you speak to me? How can you even look at me? I've destroyed your planet. I've murdered your people."

Rose was speechless for a moment. "But...but...you didn't mean to--"

"No, of course I didn't mean to! But that's not the point, is it? I thought I could save the universe, restore the future, undo my past mistakes." He sighed heavily, bitterly. "I fear your planet is just the first in a long string of casualties." He clutched at the Time Rotor lever, and pulled it down.

"Where are we going?"

"To Gallifrey, if it's still standing," he called, over the TARDIS dematerialisation scream. "And if it is, well...I've done enough damage for several lifetimes, I think. I'll surrender my TARDIS, turn myself in. Try to keep out of trouble, although at this point it's the proverbial barn door after the horse--"

The TARDIS began to pitch and roll. A lit candelabra toppled over, setting alight several of the books strewn across the floor. Rose reflexively leapt towards the fire and stamped it out. "Doctor, no! Don't say that!"

But the Doctor didn't respond. He stood frozen, apparently oblivious to the growing chaos, his eyes fixed upon the console. "That's...that's not possible," he said, in tones of great disbelief. Tentatively, hesitantly, almost fearfully, he reached out and dragged his fingers along one of the dials. After raptly gazing at the dial for a few moments, he produced a mallet from beneath the console and rapped it sharply. Then he bent down close to the dial, examining it intensely, turning it back and forth between his fingers. "Amazing," he murmured. "Remarkable... marvelous!"

Rose, meanwhile, had taken up the fire extinguisher again, only barely keeping pace with the flames from the candles falling all around. "Doctor, what's going on? The TARDIS! We're out of control!" She grabbed his shoulder, pulling him from the console, turning him around to face her.

His face, reflecting the blue glow of the Time Rotor, seemed lit also from within. His eyes burned with a sort of crackling, maniacal joy. "Mobius revolution, Rose! One traverse, multiple time streams!" Amidst the crash of glass, the thud of falling books, and the crackle of flame, the Doctor scooped Rose up into his arms and spun her about.

In other circumstances, Rose might not have minded this; but in these, she was dismayed. He seemed almost deranged. "Doctor! Stop it!"

"Terribly dangerous, but it's the best possible news! The chronotons--in the Time Vortex--they're orbiting 'round in a half-twist. A half-twist, do you understand?

"No!" cried Rose, wresting from his grasp.

"I'll spell it out then," he said, beaming. He dashed over to the bookshelf and scrabbled in it for a moment. Then he pulled a dark, flat, grooved disk from its paper sleeve and set it upon his record player.

A voice sang forth, skipping as the TARDIS pitched:

When you had left our pirate fold,


We tried to raise our spirits faint,


According to our custom old,


With quip and quibble quaint.


But all in vain the quips we heard,


We lay and sobbed upon the rocks,


Until to somebody occurred


A startling paradox…

A sliver of TARDIS interior hung in the air and widened. The Doctor jumped out, then held the door for his companion.

"A paradox?" she asked.

"A paradox," he replied, brightly. "A most ingenious paradox!"

Squinting against the brilliant sunshine, Rose stepped hesitantly out onto a grassy lawn. "Doctor...I don't know how to say this, but...look, you seem a little--"

"Mad? Yes, paradoxes can sometimes send one 'round the half-twist. But I'm not mad, Rose, not mad at all. I'm happy!" By way of illustrating his sentiments, he flung his arms into the air and spun about.

"And," said Rose, attempting to speak slowly and calmly, "why are you happy?"

"Because it's a paradox!" said the Doctor, as if that explained everything. "I set the TARDIS to follow it back to its inflection point. Now, the most salient question is—when have we landed? I can't be entirely sure, but I suspect we've gone back several thousand years."

Rose glanced about, taking in their unfamiliar surroundings. "Where do you think we are?"

"Where? That's easy." He licked his finger and held it in the air. "We're in the Emerald City."