Chapter 8
Unsure of what to do with himself, the Doctor found his legs taking him to the science building where he'd been spending so much of his time these days. It was still early enough that people wandered the city streets, laughing and talking, going on about their lives. Rose was right; these people had made Corazón Perdido their home.
He sighed as he came to a halt just outside the building, looking up at the modified transmitter on the roof, glittering in the night, softly illuminated by the city's ever present aurora. He frowned as the shifting green and blue tinged light revealed the silhouette of a lone figure perched on the roof. Who could that be at this hour?
Curious, he slipped inside and took the staircase leading to the top of the building. When he emerged on the roof, he approached cautiously, not wishing to startle the man seated with his legs dangling over the edge. A fall from this height would have rather unpleasant consequences. Once he was certain that the man was unlikely to plummet should he announce himself, he called out, "hello there!"
The man turned and revealed himself to be an inebriated Richard Strahm. "Doctor? Is that you?" he inquired, squinting in the semi-darkness. He motioned for the Doctor to join him, producing a glass bottle from a pack that had lain hidden at his side. "I scarcely recognized you without that suit on, my boy. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?"
The Doctor accepted the drink politely and took a seat next to Richard, crossing his legs beneath him. "Needed a walk to do some thinking and I saw you up here," was his reply.
"Good spot for thinking, this," Richard said, waving his own bottle vaguely at the view of the city and night sky. "I come here when I want to remember."
The two men sat in companionable silence for a while, watching as the flow of residents below them slowed to a trickle. The Doctor closed his eyes for a moment and found he could still feel the turn of the planet beneath them if he focused hard enough. It was comforting to know that not all of his senses had been numbed by this place.
"Where's home?" he finally asked, taking a tentative sip of his drink. It wasn't half bad as far as those sorts of things went. Some of his regenerations handled alcohol better than others; this was nowhere near as strong as the wine and banana daiquiris he'd inadvertently overindulged in several months ago in France. He'd had to metabolize the lot of it in a hurry when he'd returned to the ship to find Rose and Mickey in the clutches of those clockwork marvels. He suspected Richard had been sitting up here drinking for quite some time before he arrived.
"Home?" Richard snorted, "my home is long gone. I was born on Ellohem; its name likely means nothing to you. It was destroyed in the Last Great Time War, not that anyone really remembers that either."
The Doctor stiffened at the name but held his tongue. Richard was far too intoxicated at this point to notice; he carried on, describing the wonders of his planet and how he'd been off-world, studying at university, when the tragic news came. The Doctor barely listened; he'd been to Ellohem. It was one in a long line of worlds they'd had to abandon to the Daleks in the long dreadful advance towards the utter devastation at the Fall of Arcadia. Countless innocent worlds were lost in the war and the Doctor couldn't even recall the details of their final fates, having seen so many different timelines reversed and reinstated as the time battles raged. Guilt swirled sickeningly in his gut.
Richard finally realised that the Doctor hadn't said anything for a few minutes. He looked at him and asked, "where's your home then?"
"Lost as well. My ship has been my home for nearly as long as I can remember now," the Doctor said, pressing his lips together in a grim line, "I'm the last of my... family. They're all gone."
Richard nodded, understanding. "Shame we mere mortals don't get to change the past isn't it?" Then, perhaps sensing that they'd dwelled far too long on painful memories, he tried to lighten the mood. "Listen to me, going on about old wounds. We've got enough to worry about trying to work our way out of this damn gilded cage." He stood, wobbling only slightly and waving off the Doctor's move to help steady him. "It's getting late. What you're doing out here, letting an old man talk your ear off is beyond me. I certainly wouldn't hang around this long if I had a pretty lass waiting for me back at my flat like you have." He gave the Doctor a teasing wink and nearly toppled over.
"Whoa! Easy there." The Doctor took his arm despite his protests and guided him off the roof and back down the stairwell, trying not to think about Rose waiting for him back at the flat.
He left Richard sprawled out and snoring loudly on a cot in his office in the science building. He'd obviously spent more than a few nights there before. It was just as well, as the Doctor had no idea where Richard actually lived and superior Time Lord biology or no, he wasn't likely to get very far trying to move a man twice his weight.
When he got back to the flat, Rose was already asleep, curled up around his pillow on the bed. Coward that he was, he breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn't have to face their earlier conversation again tonight. Closing the bedroom door gently, he crept back to his work in the spare room. The best thing he could do now would be to try and get them both out of here as fast as possible.
