The final chapter! A slightly bizarre, but hopefully also somewhat heart-warming ending to an incredibly weird story.

I had a lot of balls in the air: chaos vs. order, time made linear, the Coven of makeshift maenads (and the ideas/concepts they conjure), Parangelia the madman, the Doctor and Martha's relationship, issues of love in general, questions about regeneration/the Ninth Doctor/Rose/the Doctor thinking Martha was himself from the future, the sonic screwdriver lodged in the Doctor's brain, etc. etc. etc. It's nigh on impossible to end a story in a satisfying way that incorporates all of that as metaphor or symbol or even as literal spelled-out concepts. But I tried.

In the previous chapter, I tried to resolve the sonic screwdriver, and hopefully the questions of what happens to relationships when the Doctor regenerates (or at least put them on the back burner). I also introduced (perhaps clarified?) the idea that carnal love (romance, whatever you want to call it) equals chaos. - all those conflicting emotions, the upheaval within the body. And it is this very thing that Parangelia finds so offensive. The Doctor and Martha have been trying to preserve that chaos... well, why? I mean, yeah, it saved the universe, but why else? ;-) The Coven of Chtenes tried to do the same thing, as did the Maenads of Ancient Greece, and Mitera in particular tried to help the Doctor realise what he was looking at when he regarded Martha... so to me, it stood to reason that Parangelia, this man with enormous power, would stand alone on this planet that has long-since come to its senses. What better reason than a broken heart? I mean, with all those kids and grandkids around, you know he had a chaotic life, in a matter of speaking, at some point.

This chapter seeks to wrap up the Rose issues, which I try to do in a lot of my stories. Especially if Rose has been a character in the story! I also bring Parangelia back into the realm of the "living," and try to assure the reader that the universe is safe from him. :-)Enjoy!

CHAPTER 20

They walked away from the Compound in contemplative silence. This time, they hadn't parked the TARDIS quite so far away, so there wasn't the long hike to completely overtake their thoughts.

Martha was the one who broke the quiet. "So tragic."

The Doctor shrugged. "Yeah, but it's nothing new. Some people, when love is lost, they are never whole again. It's the oldest love story in existence."

"Cheerful," Martha commented.

"And the man who would rather destroy everything and everyone rather than suffer any longer... that's older than old. End his own suffering and take everyone else down in flames. The universe is rife with it - history, stories... histories that have become nothing but stories. Everyone can relate to it. It's just, not everyone has the means or opportunity to end the universe. Or, frankly, the deeply-seated desire." he said.

She let a contemplative pause lapse, then she asked, "Is that how you feel? Never whole again?"

He looked down at her earnestly as they walked, and she forced herself to meet his eye. "No, it's not," he answered.

"It's just..."

"I know," he interrupted. "I know what you think, and... well, maybe a few months ago my answer would have been different. But I'm very, very old Martha."

"And you've learned how to just get the hell over things?"

"Partly," he said. "And part of me will never learn that. The point is, with my people gone... well, life is short. Not so much my life, but everyone else's. You may have as few as sixty years left, so I reckon I just have to seize the day."

And with that, he seized her hand.

"Is that what this is all about? Seizing the day?" she wondered.

"Not exclusively, but..." he sighed, and stopped, turning to face her. "Do you really want to analyse this, Martha? Or do you want to enjoy it, and just let the chips fall where they may?"

"Sorry... I'm..."

"I know you don't want to get hurt," he interrupted again. "I understand that. I don't either, frankly. But I'm sorry - I can't guarantee it. Who can?"

She chuckled. "Touché."

They walked again.

He sighed again. "I'm over nine hundred years old. I have lived a lot, and loved a lot. Every moment of my life has coloured my existence, coloured the man I am today. Does an imprint of everyone I've loved, including Rose, remain on me? Yes, absolutely. And at the end of the day, am I really that much different from a human with a similar - though perhaps shorter - story?"

"No," she admitted with a little smile.

"So, relax," he said. "Let go of Rose."

"Let go of her, knowing that you never can?"

He smiled. "That's right. But also knowing that I can't let go of you either. And you're right here. She's not."

She was quiet, but uneasy. The Doctor could tell that she wanted to say something, but knew that he hadn't exactly given her free reign to air her fears. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's nothing... just some immature paranoid crap," she said. Then she changed her mind. "No, it's not. Doctor, how do I know you wouldn't rather be with her? I mean, I get that I'm here, and she's trapped in some alternate world so you can't be with her anyway, but..."

He stopped again and faced her once more. "Martha, something has become clear to me in the last twenty-four-or-so hours. I'm a Time Lord... sometimes I just start to know things, or they ring true somehow."

"What? What are you on about?"

"That rendezvous with myself, in the other TARDIS... it needed to happen."

"Needed to happen?"

"Yes," he said. "Needed to, and was always going to. I mean, I wouldn't say it was a fixed point in the strictest sense, but so much hinged on that meeting, that whole incident. And not just the saving-the-universe bit. It was like a probe that pushed a bunch of rubbish through a bottleneck in my own life."

"Okay, Doctor, I have no idea what you're saying."

"You just asked me how you can be sure I wouldn't rather be with Rose. I'm telling you. Before crossing myself that day, I was in a rut. Hung up on the past, not ready to embrace the present, still not quite sure about you and how you fit into my life and the grand scheme of things. But the events of that day helped me get past all of that. I saw Rose again. And you, Martha Jones, your identity became, at last, transparent to me. And given those two things, I was able to see how I really feel about you. It's like all the excess buildup got stripped away, and I was left with... well, just clarity."

"Aspects of your life, pivoting round me, talking to another you, pretending to be yet another you. How very elegant."

"Indeed. I'd been wondering who the hell you were for months. Suddenly, I could see."

"You're avoiding the question."

"No, I'm not."

"Doctor, what about Rose?" she asked, point-blank.

"My time with her has passed," he said he said, insistently with a big, exaggerated shrug. "And I needed to see her again to realise it. When we were with the two of them in the other TARDIS, I saw it: that was another place and time. A different life for me. It felt primitive somehow. And seeing her hurt me. I felt the loss all over again, like a punch to the gut. I don't have any desire to feel that anymore. She's closed. Sealed. It's like Rose is a concept inside of a burning cage and I just can't get too close, even if it meant rescuing her. The pain opens raw every time every time I go there, and I would rather just heal, instead of letting it burn. I don't know if any of that makes sense."

"It's starting to."

"What happened between me and her... it was no-one's fault. But it effectively closed off a chapter of my life. It's kind of the opposite of baptism by fire... it's like apocalypse by fire, and there's no going back. I'm not that guy anymore. Now I'm... something else. I'm the guy who travels with you."

"Are you sure?"

He looked at her with deadly serious dark eyes. "Martha, when I think about Rose, I just feel depressed. Even when I think of the prospect of being with her again. Her entire space in my soul is tainted with pain - there is no other way for me to describe it. But when I look at you..." His features melted into a smile.

"Yeah?" she insisted. "You're not just going to leave it there."

"When I look at you, I see light. A future. All question and uncertainty shaken off, left behind. I see the cleverest woman I've ever known. I see a person who does not need rescuing or protecting. I see love coming back at me, unfettered, unabashed, in spite of our history. I see someone with finesse and wisdom. And perhaps you don't actually have your thumb on the pulse of the universe as I may have originally thought, but you certainly have it on mine, Martha Jones."

"Well, I've spent a lot of time studying," she joked.

"When I look at you, I see... just staggering possibilities. That first day in the hospital, there were other things at work, of course, but the fact that I felt a connection with you cannot be denied. And I don't feel a taint, or any pain, or any questions arising. You are beautiful, and so strong. You're exactly what I need, Martha. I look at what you've done for me, for us, for the universe, and I am humbled. I just want to..." he smiled big.

She matched the smile. "What?"

"I want to do this." He took her by the arms and kissed her hard, then let his arms curl over her back. Hers reached around his back as well, and they seemed to be attempting to meld together, to let not even air come between them.

When they pulled away from one another, both felt rather warm.

"You okay?" he asked. "Shall we take advantage of our freedom and drum up some chaos?"

She chuckled. "Definitely."

They walked toward the TARDIS with possibilities in their hearts, a kind of euphoria surrounding them.

But as time lapsed, their brains dug in further, they walked further toward the TARDIS, and a malaise set in.

"He's still out there," Martha sighed.

"What?"

"He's still out there," she repeated. "Parangelia."

"He's in his lair," he reminded her.

"I mean figuratively. He's still a threat," she said. "He's still despondent, still lonely, still pissed off... now, even more so. He's got all the equations he needs, and now he knows what not to do. And he's got nearly unlimited resources..."

"I disagree."

"About what?"

"I don't think he has nearly unlimited resources," he said. "I think he's out of energy."

She walked alongside him frowning for a few moments. "You think?"

"I do." The Doctor was quiet again, then, "I think, given his disposition, it must have taken Herculean strength to find the wherewithal to do what he did. Personally, I doubt he'll ever find that kind of oomph again."

"Do you think he'll just stay in that room and rot?"

"If left to his own devices," I suppose.

"So... Doctor..." she sputtered.

"Actually I was rather hoping that talking to someone about it would help him begin to heal," he admitted.

"We're banking the safety of the universe on our counseling skills?"

"Well, when you put it like that..."

"Doctor, he needs something more," she insisted. "We have each other now. What has he got?"

The Doctor groaned and said, "Ugh. Okay. In honour of Parangelia, we shall not renounce, but delay chaos just a bit longer."

They materialised the TARDIS, this time, just outside the main entrance to the Parangelia Compound. They stepped out of the box and began making their way, arm-in-arm, confidently toward the front door. Martha wore a knee-length, emerald green satin dress with black lace accents that tied behind her neck, strappy black sandals and a tumbling up-do. The Doctor wore a tux, with the brand-new pair of black trainers Martha had bought for him in London. They used the psychic paper to convince the doorman that they had been invited, then proceeded toward the ballroom

As before, most of the guests were paired off - some dancing, some snogging, some feeding each other off small forks, some stumbling through side doors desperately, in search of a small measure of privacy.

Although, once in a great while, a singleton could be seen approaching the champagne bar or the chocolate fountain, and this is how the Doctor was able to speak to a young man whom he took for a grandson.

"Wonderful party," said the Doctor. "Who organised this?"

The young man shrugged, then turned to face him with a champagne flute in each hand. "Beats me. Who are you?"

"Oh... I'm... I'm a friend of Calase," the Doctor riffed, remembering hearing the name spoken by one of the staff earlier.

"Oh, that's my brother. Funny I've never seen you around before..."

"Well, we just met. At the, erm, Kenjingen-tron-gen Club. Last week. Ish." He winced on the inside. This was truly horrible, as improve went.

"Okay," said the man, frowning. "Well, I'm Bruder. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Listen, how come your granddad doesn't come to his own party? Doesn't he like a good time?"

"Who the hell knows what he likes?" asked Bruder. "No-one's even seen him in over a decade."

The Doctor's eyebrows shot up. " A decade?"

"Yeah," said Bruder. "A couple of my cousins think he's been dead for years and the lawyers are just keeping it under wraps. Personally, I think he's around somewhere. Maybe he lost his mind and wandered into the cellar and forgot how to get out."

"Well, if you knew where he was, would someone go get him?" the Doctor asked, trying to sound matter-of-fact, or just passing curious.

"Sure," Bruder said. "He's our granddad. Some of the younger kids have never even met him, and I know our mum really misses her dad."

"Ah," the Doctor said. "Well, nice meeting you."

"And you... Mr?"

But the Doctor was sauntering away by then, headed for Martha, who was parked against a railing, watching the proceedings.

"I've been watching that guy," she said, pointing to a middle-aged bloke, dancing naughtily with a beautiful woman his own age, though surrounded by a herd of much younger women. He occupied the middle of the dance floor, and there seemed to be couples standing about watching him, perhaps waiting to talk to him.

"How could you not?"

"I know, right? I think he's the de-facto patriarch," she said. "In the absence of Araxia, he's the one they all seem to look to. I've seen staff ask him questions, and he directs traffic. I've seen some of the kids try to talk to him, and he generally deflects them. I wonder what he would think about bringing the real Patriarch back into the fold."

"Only one way to find out," said the Doctor. He plowed his way out to the middle of the dance floor. He grabbed the man's attention, pulled him aside and showed him the psychic paper, discussing something with him. The man seemed shocked to the core... suspicious at first, and then frantic. Within a minute, he was moving about the room, talking to different women and men, forming a group.

The Doctor wandered back to where Martha was standing. "What did you show him?" she asked.

"A floor plan of the Compound," he said. "In particular, the wing where Parangelia's lab is. And living quarters. He didn't even know it existed."

"They're going to go drag him out of hiding?"

"Looks like."

They watched the group leave the room in a busy fit, and they both separately assumed that the man had gathered his siblings: Parangelia's children.

Around them, the party continued to thrum.

"The children and grandchildren will bring chaos to his life," said the Doctor. "It's a kind of chaos that he's been without for too long. The rhythm of life, of the body, the heart, the soul. The grandchildren and their spoiled dancing, and their amourous activities... he needs to be around all of that. Drama and lust and general disorder. I think he can believe in it all again - he just needs to be welcomed back."

"He needs love back in his life."

"Desperately. The universe needs him to have it."

Martha smiled, and the Doctor glanced around the room.

He said, "You see that big bad bloke at the door? He's watching me. He will keep me from leaving."

"Why?"

"Because Parangelia's son said that if I was lying, he'd have my head."

"So you volunteered to stay?"

"Yep. Just until they find him and know that I'm on the up-and-up."

"Well, then, if we can't leave, then we might as well have a dance," she suggested, taking his hand.

"Might as well."

They moved to the edge of the dance floor, swayed to the music which had slowed down to a sensual, leisurely pace. And just because they wanted to, they kissed.

Martha sighed. "So glad he's coming back to this."

"Me too," he agreed.

"Because, if I understand correctly, as long as there's this, the universe is safe."

"You understand correctly," he conceded.

And they kissed again.

Thank you for reading! And even if you've never, ever left a review before, why not leave one now? :-)