Chapter 7: We'll Always Have Yervanos
There was a saying that seemed oddly appropriate right about now. 'Always expect the unexpected'. Well, she certainly hadn't expected to hear the sound of a body hitting the floor just after they'd entered the TARDIS. She spun around and rushed to the Doctor's side, immediately checking him for injury. There wasn't anything that she could see.
No sign of blood. No sign of a knock on the head. Nothing.
That was when she realised that the ship's normal background hum had changed. It sounded almost…contrite? "What did you do?" she asked the ship, though she doubted she'd be able to understand any sort of answer the TARDIS might be able to give.
The sound deepened and she noticed that the console's monitor was flashing. However, she was loath to leave the Doctor's side to check it out. She pressed two fingers against his carotid artery and breathed a sigh of relief when she found that his pulses were normal, if a bit slow. He was merely unconscious.
She was torn between trying to drag him across the metal grating to the captain's chair and letting him be. Her only fear was that she might cause him injury for the sake of trying to make him comfortable. So, she chose to leave him where he was. She carefully adjusted his arms and legs into a more relaxed position. And, shrugging off the leather jacket, she folded it carefully and placed it underneath his head as a makeshift pillow.
Once satisfied that he was as comfortable as she could make him, she turned her attention to the console. The Doctor's memories were providing her with some help with how to operate the TARDIS, but she had no desire to move them. Not yet, at least. Her concern was more for how to get the memories back where they belonged.
The viewscreen was covered with incomprehensible geometric patterns, something that her memories - or, rather, the Doctor's - told her was Gallifreyan. Even drawing on the memories, she couldn't translate what was displayed. From what she could tell, the language itself was based both on the graphic used, the order it was put in, and its angle. An 'a' could become a 'zed' could become a 'theta'.
"Thank god I'm British," she muttered. At least English wasn't as mucked up as Gallifreyan. Well, if she wasn't a native speaker she might think it was. She shook her head. This wasn't getting her any closer to finding a solution. Nor was the Doctor showing any signs of waking up.
The screen flared for a moment before settling into a new configuration. Frowning, she examined the reconfigured symbols, finally realising that one particular one was flashing in the corner. Figuring that she had nothing to lose, she lightly touched the graphic on the screen and, once again, the image changed.
It was a man. Well, a picture of one. And she knew him immediately. It was - her - the Doctor. Rather, a previous incarnation. Seventh, if she recalled correctly. Complete with red question-mark-handled brolly, a panama hat, and a mischievous expression.
"What's that supposed to…" she began before a memory overwhelmed her.
"I'm so sorry, Ace," she said sadly, staring deeply into the girl's eyes. Just the touch of a finger against her companion's forehead, the command to 'sleep and forget', and it was done. "No one's meant to know their own future."
"Not even me," she continued, leaving Ace to return her attention to the console. Such decisions always weighed heavily on her. To erase a memory was to erase a piece of one's self. But, in this case, the Web of Time demanded it. Too much foreknowledge was a terrible burden.
She wouldn't wish that upon anyone. Least of all Ace.
"I'm so sorry," she repeated and waited for her friend to awaken from her induced slumber.
She blinked and slowly the console room returned to brilliant focus. It was a clue. Had to be. The Doctor had removed someone's memories by touching their forehead. Could he do the same to get them back?
No, wait. That was a stupid idea. He didn't know who he was beyond a name. He didn't have any of his knowledge. How could he be expected to play the telepath when he didn't even know he had that ability? At least, she assumed he didn't, and it was rather hard to ask him since he was still unconscious.
The TARDIS's hum deepened again and she frowned. "You can help?" she asked, wondering how she knew that.
A treble entered into the ship's sound. An agreement?
"Hope you know what you're doing," she replied.
"I always know what I'm doing," a familiar voice responded. "Except when I don't."
There was something about her expression when she turned that made him want to embrace her. It was a hint of vulnerability - when she'd shown him nothing but competence and conviction - and a glimmer of relief and happiness. Then he noticed what she was wearing. Or, rather, what she wasn't.
Only bits of strategically-placed cloth and jewellery covered her body - an outfit that didn't fit everything that he'd seen of her. It was clothing specifically designed to tempt - and it did, but not as much as Rose herself.
"Rose?" he asked, nodding at her garments.
She glanced down at herself and flushed. "Oh, right. Forgot about that. Nothing to worry about, Doctor. Jus' a little costume-play." She flashed him a brilliant grin that held a false note that set a pang through his hearts. "Not enough time to change, y'know. Too much to do."
He didn't believe her. There was more to it than that. He could see the faded greenish-yellow tinge of bruising on her skin. "You're hurt."
"Nah," she replied with a shrug. "'S nothing. Just a little bump. Think I figured out how to get your memories back, though. Might be a bit difficult." It was an obvious tactic to change the subject, but he indulged her. The pleading look in her eyes told him that she wasn't ready to talk about it. He just hoped he'd remember this moment when she was.
"Oh?" Not the most eloquent of responses, admittedly, yet it worked.
"Yeah. Ever seen…no," she corrected herself. "'Course you haven't seen it. Right. Anyway." Rose crossed the short distance between them, stopping just short of coming what would've been too close for comfort. The dress - if he could call it that - was far too distracting. "You need to touch me."
He blinked and searched for something to say before utterly failing.
Her eyes brimmed with what he assumed was understanding and something else as she reached out to touch his hand. The feel of skin-on-skin was enough to startle him, but he took her hand willingly enough. "Like this," she said and brought his fingers to her face, indicating where he should touch her.
Swallowing nervously, though he knew there was no reason for it, he moved his fingers to her temple and…
There was nothing but him staring into her deep brown eyes, the feel of his fingers against her skin, and the sudden awareness of an indescribable something that flared to life at the back of his mind.
And then everything went white.
It was flashes of memory…
There was comfort in knowledge. The TARDIS library was a favourite haunt no matter the regeneration. Admittedly, his tastes would vary from incarnation to incarnation - though he'd never been able to explain the copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone - but the library remained.
It was here that he allowed himself to mourn the deaths and departures of his companions, sheltered amongst the books that were as much as part of him as the TARDIS. It was here that he sought guidance as much as the Cloisters when he needed a good think. And it was here that he'd first learned about the War.
A summons home had overwhelmed him and, when he'd arrived, he'd known that something was terribly wrong. It had been. War had come to Gallifrey after all this time and he was required to fight.
So he had. At Betrallix Minor, he'd had to watch friend after friend fall before the Daleks but the battle resulted in a draw. At Arcadia, where only dust and ashes remained of a lush and vibrant civilisation that had given their lives to bring the war to its ultimate turning point.
On Gallifrey…
He closed his eyes against the recollection and let the comforting smell of leather and paper fill his senses. Now, he was here for a different purpose. He was here to examine his mind. Intimately. Deeply. To determine just why he'd let Rose Tyler see her dad. Not once, but twice, violating every rule of Time that he'd ever known.
Stupidity? Oh, it was monumental stupidity, but that wasn't it. Regret for almost killing her time and again? The desire to put things right by letting her have her dearest wish? No. No, it was something deeper still.
It was...
Snippets. Words and thoughts and deeds and emotions and knowledge.
It was masks and labels. It was Ka Faraq Gatri. The Oncoming Storm. The Bringer of Darkness. Time's Champion.
He was a rebel, a musician, a dandy, a bohemian, a cricketer, a clown, a manipulator, a poet.
And he became aware of where he was. It was the TARDIS console room and his hands… Rose.
She leaned into his touch, the furrow between her eyebrows hinting at a measure of pain. Oh, Rassilon, what had he done? "Rose?"
She blinked at him and she slowly focused upon his face, his soft smile. "Doctor?" His name carried a thousand questions. Was it really him? Did he know who he was?
He knew. And, now, so did she. She knew everything, provided she still remembered it. His hurts, his pains, his silent torture. The knowledge that he'd destroyed his own planet. Not just his deeds, but who he was. He'd never wished that upon anyone, least of all her. His Rose. Who'd saved him again without question, despite not knowing what he'd done. It'd just taken a farewell touch, a farewell hug, and it'd been done. He'd given her his memories without her permission and he'd gone through the Ka Ra Nor.
And left her in Hell.
Guilt howled through his psyche as he tried his best to muster a shadow of his usual manic grin. "Hello!"
Her chin trembled, but she didn't cry. Nor did she close the distance between them, despite the time they'd spent apart. He couldn't blame her, though. After everything he'd done and lost, this was what hurt the most.
She looked at him with far-too-wise eyes - an expression that he knew far too well as it was one he saw every day in the mirror - and smiled. "'Bout time you got back. Was getting' a bit crowded up here." She tapped the side of her head and he winced reflexively.
How do you tell someone 'thank you' when they've gone further than anyone was meant to go? When they saved you every day, just by being there? When they came to rescue you, even when you didn't know who you were, and brought you home? He remembered every moment from the instant he'd lost his memories up until regaining them. And it painted a picture that astounded and amazed him.
He'd underestimated her. And he vowed to never do so again.
His look softened as he moved his fingers just enough so his palms rested against her cheeks. Cradling her face between his hands he smiled gently at her. "You, Rose Tyler, are fantastic," he said, meaning every word and more. There were thousands of things that he wanted to say, needed to say, but he couldn't.
That was as much of a curse as his memories.
Which brought him back full circle to the beginning. He released her and practically bounded to the console, his fingers dancing across the controls. "Right. Technology that shouldn't be here. Wrong type of society for this time period. Know what that means? Someone's been muckin' about with low-tech civilisations again."
Rose came to his side and he refrained from looking at her, mostly because her lack of clo… "Wait a mo'. I remember." He spun towards her, gripping her shoulders lightly. "Rose, what happened after I was sent through the Ka Ra Nor?"
She wouldn't meet his gaze. That alone was telling. "Nothin' much. Got a nice tour of the palace. Made a friend an' an enemy. Got thrown in jail, got out of jail, got sent to the King…" Rose winced and, if anything, withdrew into herself. She obviously hadn't meant to tell him that.
She was in the palace and got sent to the King. And, if he didn't miss his guess, the outfit she was wearing was because of that. She must've been in the… Oh, no. Rose. The harem. She must've been in the harem, and if the King had done anything to her, not a stone would be standing in that palace when he was done with it.
Anger coursed through him. "Rose, were you in the harem?" He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her.
She nodded slightly. "The King fancied me. Guess I'm a bit exotic. Has a thing for blondes, apparently." She still wasn't looking at him and he'd had enough of that. He gently touched her chin, lifting her face so he could look into her eyes.
Along with everything he'd seen before, he could also see a core of hurt and shame that she couldn't hide. "I should get changed," she said softly, trying to pull away from him.
"Rose. Did they hurt you?" he asked her, searching her gaze for a hint of what might've happened.
She shook her head. "Nah. Ended up hurting a few of them, though. Never knew Venusian Aikido could come in handy."
He rocked back on his heels, stunned. "Venusian Aikido?" he repeated.
"Yeah. Came in handy, that," she replied, smiling. And he knew that look. She was hiding the truth again, but how could he fault her that desire? He'd tried for so long to hide who he was and what he'd done from her; how could he deny her the same? No. He could, because that wasn't who she was.
But she could be now, a traitorous part of his mind reminded him. You think she hasn't been changed because of what she had inside her? Because of your memories? You think any human could hold all that knowledge and not be changed?
What had he done?
Yet she'd survived. Survived with his memories inside her. She'd even used them to escape and to restore him to the way he was. He was whole because of her. All because Rose Tyler had been able to withstand something she shouldn't've been able to.
She really was fantastic.
"Good," he finally replied after one last searching glance. He wasn't dropping this topic by any means, but he could defer it for a while. Until Yervanos was sorted, this would wait. Giving her shoulders a fond squeeze, he let her go and returned his attention to the console. "Right. Best thing is to sort what we know. Yervanos' civilisation isn't how it's supposed to be. And the Ka Ra Nor is..."
"Sontaran technology, yeah?" Rose interrupted, startling him enough that he blinked at her in shock. "The Ka Ra Nor. It's Sontaran, isn't it? Identical Mister Potato-head-looking guys with nasty tempers?"
How would she know…oh, right. His memories. He nodded. "Yeah. That's right." A sudden thought struck him and he eyed her carefully. "How much can you remember?"
"From 'aving your memories in my head?" She shrugged once he nodded in response. "A bit, at least. Think I might be able to pull off more Venusian Aikido if I need to. I remember the Sontarans, an' something about Ace and her memories. There's a bit about the Brigadier an'…" She paused, looking at him regretfully. "I remember what I told you in response to your question about if you were a killer."
She did remember the War. What he'd done. Maybe not the specifics, but enough. "I'm sorry," he said, unable to think of how else to respond.
"I'm not," she replied fiercely. "Listen, Doctor. I'm glad I was able to save your memories. 'Cause, even though without 'em you're still you, I happen to like you as you are. I'm glad that you trusted me enough to let me carry them, even though you didn't have enough time to tell me what you were doing. And I'm glad that I was able to do something to help. So don't apologise. There's no reason for it."
"Rose." He whispered her name. "There is. You shouldn't have to…"
"To what? Know who you are? Doctor, I've always known who you are. What you are. You're my best friend. An' you shouldn't have to keep those things to yourself. I'm here, yeah? What was it that…oh, yeah. A burden shared is a burden halved, or somethin' like that."
He shook his head, once again amazed by her. She should run. She should want to get as far away from him as possible. She knew him. Knew exactly what he'd done. And, instead of doing the right thing, she stayed.
A moment later, he felt her arms slide around his torso and she hugged him from behind. "It'll be all right."
He wished he believed her, but he decided to try his best to maintain the illusion. "Yeah. So, right. Where were we?"
"Sontarans," Rose prompted.
"Ah, yes. Sontarans. Nasty lot. Question is why'd they leave their tech on this planet? Doesn't make sense, that. Unless…"
"Invasion?" she suggested.
"Too simple." He frowned as he scanned the readout on the viewscreen. "We're 'bout ninety or so light-years from the closest Rutan-Sontaran battleground. Doesn't make sense for them to try and invade here. 'S not even near the major trading routes and it's certainly not of any strategic importance. Just another planet."
"Except for their 'fantastic pasta'," she said, reminding him of the reason they'd come to Yervanos in the first place.
He felt rather sheepish about that particular reminder. "Oh, they do. Just wasn't my fault we arrived about fifty years too late."
"Uh-huh."
"Oi! Don't argue with the designated driver!" he replied, but even the humour struck him as false. He'd had his memories stolen. Rose had been in a harem. And now they had to sort it.
He grinned as a thought occurred to him. "Oh, what if the Sontaran-Rutan lines are going to move? Tended to fluctuate rather wildly some years, an' ninety light years isn't that great of a distance knowin' them." He hit another few controls and watched as the battle-lines rippled and expanded.
Sure enough, Yervanos would end up in the new heart of Rutan territory - some sixty years from now. It was meant to be a foothold planet. The Rutan wouldn't care about the Yervanosians. They'd be left alone provided they didn't interfere in the war. But, if the Sontarans won the planet, the people were as good as dead or enslaved.
The Ka Ra Nor was just the start of a far-reaching plan to eventually bring Yervanos to its knees all for the sake of another world's war. Though this also meant that there was a time-travelling Sontaran about. Only way for them to know where the Rutan lines would move, actually. The Sontarans weren't known for being an imaginative and creative lot, even when it came to tactics.
Having Yervanos as a secret base behind Rutan lines would give the Sontarans an advantage that could - he quickly ran the calculations in his mind and corrected himself - would cause them to win the war. Without the Rutan to fight, the Sontarans would turn on the rest of the universe.
"But why the Ka Ra Nor?" Rose asked. "Doesn't make sense, does it? Why give this place the technology to wipe memories?"
Suddenly, it made complete sense. The village. The wiped memories. The village council. The people who were sent there and then returned to society. "It's the people. Should've guessed this before. I know why the Sontarans gave the King the Ka Ra Nor," he said, turning from the console to meet her gaze.
"Why?" she asked softly, apparently realising this was something of great import.
"Simple," he replied. "The Sontarans want slaves. Who better to have as a slave than someone who doesn't even know who they are? They're the perfect brain-washed victims who'll just roll over for them when they invade."
That was unacceptable.
And he and Rose were going to stop it.
To be continued...
