Chapter 9

The days had passed slowly for the Doctor as he waited for his strength to return.

The worst effects of the anti toxin were fading now, no more pain flickered through his body even though it had only been a day since Carla took him off the pain relief.

He was also off the machines that tracked his vital signs and the needle in his arm was finally out.

But he felt exhausted.

Carla had said he ought to expect it; he had just come through the hardest fight of his current life. He knew she was right, because he tired easily and felt unsteady and when he drew in a deep breath it didn't seem to reach the bottom of his lungs, the air felt thin and his head felt light. Carla wanted him to stay for a few more days to rest, but his mind was made up:

It had been eight long days, far too long to be away from Ace – he was going home now, and when he thought of home he thought of that place as being anywhere in the universe where she was, and right now, she was on earth waiting for him...

The Doctor had just buttoned up his shirt when Carla walked into the room.

"Are you sure you're ready to leave?" she asked him, "You don't have to leave now, you could wait a few more days, get some more strength back -"

"No," he told her and sounded very sure about it, "I need to be with Ace. And I can get plenty of rest when I'm on earth."

Carla paused for thought, and then she carefully explained something he wasn't yet aware of: "I spoke to Lexi. I asked her if we could come back here and use the facility again – if we needed to – and she said we could, she's planning to sell up but not yet, so we could use this place again if the need arises."

The Doctor blinked.

"Why would I want to come back here after everything I've been through? This room will always remind me of pain, Carla! I'm through with that now. It's over, I'm going home to Ace."

She paused again. This was a difficult subject to bring up so soon, especially in light of the decision he had made to refuse further treatment if an antidote was not found...

"The time may never come," she said hopefully, "Perhaps I'll find an antidote and you won't need to think about this ever again, but if I still haven't found a cure, and you are faced with the toxin levels rising again, you may not feel like giving up."

"I don't consider it giving up, more like knowing when enough is enough. The chemicals used to fight the toxin are highly volatile, even for a Timelord. How many times can I realistically go through that treatment? Once, twice? Sooner or later the anti toxin will kill me with repeated dosage, it's obvious."

"But as things stand now it's your only option."

"No," he replied, "The other option is to do nothing and accept my fate. At least that way I have no more pain and I get to fade out slowly and stop fighting."

Then he continued to get dressed, putting on his question mark jumper.

"But you might not fade away quietly," she said, "The toxin was designed to attack your central nervous system – once it gets in there I can't predict what will happen. You could be slowly crippled by it – or rapidly. You could wake up blind one morning, you could be paralysed. It won't be the easy way out you think it is."

"I've never found dying easy," he replied, "I've done it many times before, I'm on my Seventh regeneration now – at least I've had a lot of practise for the last goodbye if it turns out that way."

"But the anti toxin therapy gives you a chance, don't you see that? You've been through hell, I know – but now you have more time with Ace. You could have this time all over again if you needed a repeat of the therapy."

He briefly smiled as he slipped his tie beneath his collar.

"I can have this time or any time over and over if I feel like playing with the time controls, I have a Tardis, remember?"

She gave a sigh.

"I'm not going to argue about this, I just want you to keep in mind the fact that we can come back here if we need to. And the anti toxin is there for you if you need it again. You may feel differently if the levels suddenly rise and you think hard about what you're gambling with."

"It's not a gamble," he said as he walked over to the mirror and straightened his tie, "I know what to expect. Either I take the antidote, or I don't. I all depends how time chooses to allow it to turn out."

Then as he looked into the mirror, he looked again – and saw a changed man, one who had very much been ravaged by the effects of the anti toxin:

His jacket had been a perfect fit before but now seemed a size too big. Visible puncture wounds were healing on the side of his neck where an implant had been removed, and his face was pale and that pallor seemed more noticeable due to the deep shadows beneath his tired eyes. He looked weak and pale and tired and had lost weight, and couldn't hide any of this. He hoped Ace wouldn't cry too much when she saw him again...

Then he leaned closer to the mirror and ran a hand over short dark hair that had thinned out noticeably. There was a small area on the side of his head that had been shaved when Carla had been left with no other choice but to open up the wound and clean out the toxin.

Now all that remained of that wound was a thin line, a neat scar that was healing rapidly as the stitches pulled it tight.

"I look a mess!" he said to his reflection.

Then he went over to the trolley that contained the scissors and reached past them, picking up the barbers clippers. He set the razor on to number two and then handed it to Carla.

"Are you sure?" she asked him.

The Doctor pulled out a chair and grabbed a hand towel and draped it around his shoulders as he sat down in front of the mirror.

"There's no other way to sort it out," he told her.

Carla plugged in the razor and then stood behind him, but hesitated once more.

"Are you really sure you want me to do this?"

"I can't look any worse for it," he replied.

She switched on the razor and it snapped sharply to life and filled the room with a low hum. Through the glass the Doctor saw reflected the one item he was yet to put on, it was next to his question mark umbrella on top of the bed.

"I can always wear my hat," he replied, "It's no big deal..."


Rebel was in his Tardis.

He was somewhere in deep space where few stars shone, and he was unsure of his exact location and couldn't be bothered to check on the console to find out.

He had felt no need for another T bomb just yet, but a few shots of vodka had eased the sadness in his twin hearts as he recalled the way he had walked away from the planet of Sabra. Then he thought of all the times others had walked away from him; getting to know him had been enough.

They had all left.

Everyone left in the end...

But it had been different this time – he had been the one who chose to leave.

He had been so close to sharing the truth, perhaps too close...

He didn't know who he was or what his purpose was in this regeneration.

Rebel thought about it as he looked into the darkness of space:

Who was he this time around?

Perhaps the polite, gentlemanly fellow played by the rules and believed in fairness.

No. He had been there and done that in his Fifth life.

Or maybe he was the handsome ladies man.

Yes, he liked that idea.

But that had been back in his Tenth regeneration.

Now he was number Fourteen, the only ladies who paid him attention were ladies of the night who expected payment for services rendered – apparently all other women did not feel drawn to him when he was drunk, nor were they lured by the tell-tale smell of burnt volcanic rock that always seemed to cling to his clothing...

He still didn't know who he was, he was no closer to finding an answer no matter how hard he thought about it. All he knew for sure was that in this life he was the lost one, the failure, the man with no purpose who lived out his days in a haze of blue mist to block out the pain and the cries for help that seemed to come not only from a past that haunted him, but from all around him, too...

He didn't feel proud of the fact that he had come so close to telling Carla Bailey everything, and then lost his nerve and walked away.

Perhaps he had not walked.

It felt more like he had turned and ran...

And then he remembered again that Carla Bailey was destined to die at the hands of the Master, and he gave a weary sigh as he knew in a single beat of his twin hearts that he could not allow that to happen, although he wasn't quite sure why, when any kind of activity involving bravery or fighting in the name of good was something he usually closed his eyes to. But he had to save her, he knew it for certain.

With that thought in mind he turned his Tardis around and set off on a course for earth, following instinct, but not quite knowing the reason why.


After eight long and difficult days, the Doctor had finally left the planet of Sabra.

He had wanted to leave alone and come back later to pick up Carla, because all he really wanted to do now his ordeal was over, was to go home to Ace and rest in her arms, and forget for a while about the loose ends that needed tying up.

But Carla had insisted on coming with him, and not because her lab equipment was already packed – she knew he was weak and felt concerned at the thought of him flying the Tardis alone.

And she had been right to worry.

The walk from the facility to the Tardis had been difficult; he had been forced to stop several times to catch his breath and to fight off waves of weakness and sudden spells of dizziness, but now they were on their way...

As the Tardis travelled towards earth the Doctor leaned heavily on the console, drawing in a slow breath.

"Are you okay?" Carla asked him.

And he looked up at her and then straightened his hat.

"It fitted me so much better before," he remarked, and then he answered her question, "I thought the floor was shaking but then I realised it was me. I just want to see Ace, I want to hold her and then sleep for a very long time. I feel exhausted."

"The weakness will fade," she promised him, "Probably within the next few days, that's when you'll notice the most improvement. But the general tiredness will take much longer, probably a couple of months."

He looked at her across the console and smiled, and in that moment his eyes lit up in such a way it seemed to defy his weakness.

"Hand me the phone, the one I fixed for long distance calls."

She took the mobile phone from her pocket and gave it to him.

"I'm going to surprise Ace," he said fondly.


Ace was alone in the house.

She had finally persuaded her mother to go out and visit friends – a big step to take, considering it had only been three days since she had been confronted by the Master in her kitchen.

As Ace sat alone in the front room she looked at the clock. It was almost noon, yet there was no sign of the Professor. She thought back to all the other Doctor had told her about what was to come and felt certain she hadn't got any of it wrong – she had been distraught at the time he had explained everything to her, but she was certain he had said the Professor would be back in eight days...

And then the phone rang.

She picked it up quickly.

"Hello?"

"Hello sweet heart," said the Doctor, "Have you missed me?"

Her heart started to race as she fought back tears. Had she missed him? What sort of a question was that, of course she had, she'd missed him like crazy!

"You know I have!" she exclaimed, "Every day, every night, when are you coming back? I just want to put my arms around you, I want to do that so bad my arms are hurting, Professor!"

"Then you'd better open the front door," he said, "I'm outside."


As the Doctor ended the call, he leaned against the porch and waited for Ace to open the door. He never thought he would miss Carla at a moment like this, but he just wanted someone to help him stand up straight, and she wasn't there because he had given her some cash and told her to find somewhere to stay nearby, and the porch was not comfortable to lean against, because he was leaning on the arm that had taken the IV line and the anti toxin, and it still ached.

He felt weary and exhausted and he hoped Ace would not be too upset when she saw him again, because the treatment had certainly taken its toll...

And then he had no more time to think about anything, because she opened the door.

"Professor!" she exclaimed, and threw her arms around him.

"I've missed you so much, I've missed you..." she was kissing him now, hugging him again and kissing his cheek, and then his lips, and then she gave him another hug, as he clung to her weakly and hoped she would soon work out too much of these big hugs would probably knock him over in his current physical state.

"Ace, I need to sit down."

She took him by the hand and led him inside, closing the door behind them.

"I'm so glad you're home!"

"Me too," he replied, "And as you can see I'm not quite the same as I was the last time you saw me."

"It was only eight days ago -"

Ace fell silent.

Now she had noticed, she saw how pale he looked, how shadows hung beneath his tired eyes, and how his jacket suddenly seemed a size too big.

"I need to lie down," he told her, and she heard it in his voice at once – he wasn't over the treatment yet, he was exhausted and fragile and suddenly she wished she could wrap him in a blanket and then wrap her arms around him and keep him safe forever, in her arms where nothing and no one could ever cause him harm again.

"Come on Professor," she said as she put her arm around him, "I'll help you upstairs."


As Ace helped the Doctor to climb the stairs, he paused twice to catch his breath. The climb was slow and he leaned against her all the way. When they reached the top of the stairs she steered him towards her bedroom.

"I bet Audrey got a shock when she saw your wedding ring. And she won't like me staying here. We're better off going back to the Tardis soon – I left it around the corner."

Ace said nothing in reply as he took in another weak breath and sat down heavily on her bed, and she sat down beside him.

Then he turned to her and smiled playfully and she saw a brief flash of the man he used to be, in the days before the toxin had destroyed his health.

"So, how is life in Perivale, have I missed much?"

Ace shook her head, remembering she had her bat and cans of nitro nine and if the Master came back, he would have to contend with her – the Doctor was far too fragile to stand up to a fight with anyone. She would tell him later, when he was stronger...

"It's been quiet here," she said to him.

"That's what I like to hear," he replied, placing his umbrella next to the bed and then slipping off his jacket, "It's always good to know there's no trouble on this planet for once!"

And Ace felt a prickle of guilt, but remembered that right now, in his current weakened state, it was more important to protect him than give him news that would prevent him from resting and delay his chances of a rapid recovery.

"You need a lie down," she said gently.

"Good idea," he agreed, "And I hope you're coming with me, I've missed waking up next to you!"

And then he kicked off his shoes and got comfortable on top of the covers, still sitting up as he met with her gaze, and then he fell silent for a moment as he paused, gathering his thoughts.

"I need to explain something," he said, "It's not permanent, but I had to go for a slight change...just believe me when I say it looks better now than it did before!"

And he took off his hat and placed it on top of his jacket, before looking back at her.

Ace noticed the scar first of all, stitches still held together a healing wound to the side of his head. Then it hit her that his hair had been shaved down to dark stubble.

Tears filled her eyes as she recalled how she used to run her fingers through the dark curls at the back of his neck.

"It's not that bad, is it?" he wondered, sounding a little worried.

Ace recalled all the other Doctor had said to her and managed to smile as she reached out and ran her hand over his cropped hair.

"No, it's fine," she promised, "And it won't take long to grow back."

"But you look like you want to cry."

"Only because I'm so happy to have you back home with me," she told him, and she put her arms around him and held him tightly.

"I've missed you so much, I love you so much and I'm so glad you're back, Professor."

"I love you too," he told her, and as he settled back against a soft pillow that carried the scent of her hair, she lay down beside him and held him gently in her arms.

"Oh this feels like bliss!" he exclaimed as he closed his eyes, "I've missed your closeness so much, the warmth of you, the scent of your skin... I've missed you. This is home to me, being in your arms."

And he gave a contented sigh.

"I never want to be away from you again," Ace told him, "I've decided, I can't be so far away from you again, not ever, no matter what happens, I want to face it with you. And don't worry about my mum – she's really changed her mind about you...Professor?"

Then Ace smiled as she realised why he had fallen silent. He was unable to reply because he had slipped into a deep and restful sleep.

"That's better," she said softly, "You sleep, Professor. You need to rest."

And then she kissed his cheek and settled down next to him, holding him gently as he rested. And the Doctor slept on deeply and easily, comforted by the closeness of the woman he loved.


The Master had used a tissue restorative as soon as he had gone back to his Tardis. The burns had been deep and had taken several days to fade.

He had not attempted to return to the home of Ace and her mother, because he had concluded the Doctor was not there. She had said, Find him yourself. That suggested that perhaps the woman did not know where the Doctor was...

He wondered where Ace was. Surely where ever the Doctor was, the woman would be with him? He had said on board the Cassandra-Aurora, that Ace was now his wife.

Was she still his wife, or was she now his widow?

That thought was still nagging at him, the question would not stop revolving around in his mind. And he was not quite sure why he did not like the finality of knowing his long standing mortal enemy was now gone...

It spelled the end of battles, the end of having a meddling Timelord putting a stop to his plans for power. Perhaps it had been fun, up to a point...

He walked around his console, thinking carefully about his destination.

Earth or Sabra?

He had to know for sure.

He was still thinking on the decision when a light blinked on his console.

Surprise registered in his eyes.

"An incoming message from a Tardis?" he said aloud, and he turned a dial and opened up a channel.

The screen cleared.

He saw a background that displayed the view of a wide console room, but the monitor was cracked. And then a man peered into the camera. His hair was a mess, his eyes were glazed and as he blinked and then looked at him with a wild stare, eyes burning bright blue and pupils like pinpricks.

"Who are you?" The Master demanded.

The man started to smile.

"Well Hello to you, Master. Why do they call you that, Master? That would imply you are a dominant male who likes...Oh that could be a plan!"

And he smiled excitedly, before shaking his head and cancelling the thought.

"No no...forget it. I'm into girls only in this regeneration. But don't say anything to anyone else about me and, you know...the S and M thing... "

Then he blinked a couple of times, and looked intently into the screen again.

"Where was I? Oh yes, that's it...I was about to tell you I'm the Doctor, one of them, at least. And you're the biggest power hungry, self important prick the entire universe has ever known. Have a seat on this!"

And he stuck his middle finger up to the camera as he laughed.

The Master's face contorted into a mask of pure rage.

"You would insult me, after regenerating into..what? A washed up, burnt out excuse for a Timelord?"

Rebel chuckled.

"I know...And it's great fun sometimes! I'm Fourteen, the black sheep, the outcast, the knob who no one wants at parties. So, are you up for some more abuse, or do you want to come and kill me?"

And then he stepped back from the camera to pause to swig from a vodka bottle.

"I'm totally wasted," he added, "I'm so pissed I don't think I'll be able to fly my own Tardis...Oh, you look really angry...I hope I've got weapons...I can't remember if I have or not..."

The Master glared at him.

"I am going to destroy you!" he thundered, and Rebel stared into the camera.

"Oh dear.." he said, "I thought you might say that. You'll have to catch me first!"

And then he shut off the screen, laughing as he put down the vodka bottle. There was no vodka in it because he had already finished it off eight hours before, but through a monitor, water looked convincing... It had been a pure stroke of luck as he travelled in his Tardis that he had, at the speed he was going, almost literally run into the Master. He didn't usually get involved in the lives of any of the Doctors, but after meeting his Seventh incarnation, there was absolutely no way he was going to let the Master get away with what he had done to him...

He watched on the viewing screen as the Master's Tardis began to power up ready to give chase. Then he hung on to the console and slammed down the lever with his foot, keeping it on the lever because it was loose.

Then the Tardis shot away from the scene and the Master's ship gave chase.

And as he hurtled through time and space, Rebel laughed manically as he sped on towards a place most ships steered clear of, but one that he often liked to fly in when he was wasted.

"Let's play bumper cars!" he exclaimed excitedly, and the Tardis rushed onwards with the Master's ship in pursuit, as Rebel lured him between planets towards a rather volatile asteroid belt...