21—A Dream Fulfilled By Half

The Doctor proudly held the twins while Adora packed up the last of her things. It had been four months since they had been born, and already they were crawling and exploring their world. They slept three hours a night, were eating like baby whales and were doted on by staff and other patients alike. The only small cloud in the Doctor's sky was Adora and her reaction when he came to visit. She was brilliant with the twins, but there was something strange in her dealings with him, something sad and secretive and held back. Adora had completed her program and was now at a healthy weight, but there was something not quite right. He was worried she might be developing postpartum depression or relapsing, but all the doctors and staff were unconcerned when he brought it up. He tried to ignore it, but it ate at the back of his mind.

Lunnie too, seemed changed. Their relationship had started off rocky and had progressed well, but now she was going out of her way to cater to him and encourage him to spend time with the twins constantly, no matter how busy everything was. She even let him stay at the Bubble a few nights a week and put in a comfortable chair for him. He would have taken more advantage of that liberty but he was spending his time working like mad on his TARDIS. He had resigned his position as an instructor the week before; the college had begged him to stay for another semester but he was a family man now and he had obligations. He wanted to get Adora back to Earth as soon as possible so they could decide what to do with two TARDIS-es. He wouldn't want to let his go of course, but Adora would insist that her craft would be safer for a family than his worn-out but trusty companion. It would hurt, oh how it would hurt, but he had to put Adora and the twins first. Part of him was whispering that he didn't want to lose his TARDIS, didn't want be tied down, that a family would complicate who he had always known himself to be, but he kicked that voice into a corner whenever he heard it too loudly.

They loaded up the baby supplies into a trans-dimensional box for easy transport, got all of Adora's artwork situated on top somehow and headed out for the last time. Adora held her head up high as she said goodbye to everyone, twins in her arms, and the Doctor felt very proud of her. She had done a lot of work to get to this stage, to true recovery. As Adora said goodbye to Lunnie, the octopus gave her a huge hug and said quietly, "You can be strong, Adora. You can do anything, especially when you know what's right. Do what's right, Adora, and let no one stop you."

She then turned to the Doctor and told him, "The same goes for you, Doctor. Do what's right, but don't hang on to what you have no business reaching for. For example, avoid short-circuiting the Maternity Bubble's auto-nurse on your way out."

"I will restrain myself," the Doctor promised, grinning. "Ready, Adora?"

"I'm ready," Adora replied, and walked out the door with the babies, the Doctor a step behind with their cargo.

They got to the Doctor's TARDIS, which was all ready for travel. They put Adora's paintings next to the jump seat, with the trans-dimensional box nearby. He pulled out the playpen for the twins while Adora sat down on the jump seat looking weepy. He looked over at her and said cheerfully, "No need to worry Adora, she'll get us safely back to Earth and we can use your TARDIS; I'm willing to make the sacrifice if it's what you need."

Adora didn't answer. She went over to the playpen and sat down with the twins, talking to them quietly. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but didn't worry about it. He set the coordinates and then went over to Adora's side and stroked her hair as she manipulated some toys and held them out for the twins to grab. "We'll be there soon," he told her, "and then we can sit down and plan things out."

"There's something I want to give you," Adora said suddenly. She walked over to her suitcase, got out a small box and handed it to him. "It's pictures, tons of them. Some are of the boys alone, some with me and the boys, and even some with all of us, just so you can remember. I have a box too, so I can remember . . ."

The Doctor was pleased. "I won't need reminders, not with us all together, but we can make a scrapbook so the boys know how it all started. Now isn't that clever of you, Thalmidor! You're doing a good job standing up . . . and even a step—brilliant! Now don't go tripping over Kenarn; he's not quite ready for walking yet, but maybe in a few days. And Kenarn, you shouldn't fret; late bloomers bloom brightest. You'll get there . . ."

Just then his TARDIS landed with a little bump. The babies squealed in surprise, but didn't seem frightened. Adora calmed them and took them out of the playpen so she could put it away. The Doctor asked, "Do you want them in the stroller? That grating's hard on little legs . . ."

"Yes," Adora agreed, "if you can get it out . . ."

The Doctor got out the stroller and deposited the twins in it, first Kenarn, then Thalmidor. They didn't seem happy but they didn't fuss so the Doctor left it at that. He helped Adora fold up the playpen and put it in the trans-dimensional box with the other supplies. He opened the door for Adora and she wheeled the twins out.

Once they were in the open air he realized how chilly it was. It was fine for Adora and himself; they could control their metabolisms to stay warm, but the twins couldn't yet. He asked Adora, "Do you remember where your TARDIS is?"

She told him quietly, "It's this shed right here."

"Then put the boys inside while I grab some things; it's too cold for them out here. They'll be all right on their own for a few minutes while we get everything in."

Adora wheeled Thalmidor and Kenarn into her TARDIS, then came out and helped the Doctor move everything into Adora's craft. Adora then set the playpen up for the twins and had the Doctor put them in it, insisting that he take some time to play with them and hold them close. He played with Kenarn and Thalmidor and chatted with them in Gallifreyan while Adora stood back and watched. She didn't join in though the Doctor invited her; she took a few pictures but didn't get involved. "Is there anything else we need?" she asked after an hour.

"There's some things I want to get from my TARDIS, but it won't take long."

The Doctor hurried into his TARDIS and grabbed a few changes of clothing, then rushed to his room and took a picture of Susan that he had always loved. He left everything else knowing if he took too much time he'd want every little thing and it would take forever. He gave the console a pat and told his TARDIS, "I'll miss you, old girl; you've been absolutely brilliant. We've been together for a long time and I'll miss you terribly, oh so much, but I have to go. It's Adora and the boys, you see. I can't leave them, not now, and you're just not what you used to be. Maybe once the boys are grown we can come back and I can teach them how to fly you. I won't forget you and I'll try to make it back, but it's the boys and Adora now; they need me. I hope you can forgive me . . ."

He swallowed a big lump in his throat and left quickly.

When he came out, Adora was standing in front of her TARDIS with the door closed. She was very still, tears flowing down her face. He came over to her and asked, "What's wrong, Adora? It's all right that we take your TARDIS, it'll be much safer for the boys and—"

Adora spoke faintly but steadily, "You're not coming with us."

The Doctor felt his hearts drop straight into his toes. "What? What!?"

"You can't come with us, Doctor. I'm going away and I'm taking the boys and you can stay here or go wherever you want to go, but you can't come with us."

"What are you doing, Adora? How can you do this? We're going to be a family; we're—"

Adora spoke with a little more strength. "You're trying to do what everyone's always tried to do—run my life for me and take my choices away; you're just nicer about it. You want us to be a happy family traveling through the stars, but it just won't work. I don't want to be dragged through the Universe as your sidekick and I won't let you do it to my children. You're the Oncoming Storm and that won't change, not with who you are. I want stability and quiet and safety and you can't give me that and it's not fair for me to ask. You're meant to be a wanderer, not stuck on a planet pining your life away."

The Doctor felt as though someone had taken a spear and twisted it into his core. "I just did it! I did it for almost two years, Adora! I stayed on Yamexibon and had a job and helped you . . . didn't I help you? Didn't my sacrifice mean anything?"

"That's just it, Doctor—sacrifice. You would have to sacrifice your life and dreams if you stayed with me to make me happy and I'd have to sacrifice my life and the lives of my children to stay with you and make you happy. It won't work; the cost is too great for both of us and the boys too. I want my children to know the Universe is a safe, predictable, stable place where they stay on one planet in one town and grow up away from all the things that make you who you are. I won't stay here; it would be too cruel to lock you out of the planet you adore so much. I'll find a place out of the way somewhere, one where the boys can grow into whatever they want to be. I won't let them forget you, I promise . . . I'll talk about you all the time and tell them how wonderful you are, explain that I sent you away, that it wasn't that you didn't love them . . ."

"I'm their father!" the Doctor objected, tears falling fast. "How can you take that away from them? They have the right to know me, to—"

"Here is what we shall do. In a hundred years, I'll come back here and they can choose for themselves if they want your way of life. They won't even have regenerated yet. Maybe you'll even forgive me by then, but right here and right now we are leaving and doing it without you. The thing is, I do love you. I know you don't believe it right now, but it's true, and I know you love me and would give it all up for us, but it would be wrong. I talked with Lunnie about it—she said I had to do what I thought was best. That's why she let you stay overnight and spend all your time with the boys; she knew what I was going to do."

The Doctor was astonished and crushed. "You knew all along? You planned this!?"

Adora told him earnestly, "Honestly, no. I decided right after they were born; I swear I didn't think of it until then. I saw them and thought about what you would want, who you would want us to be . . . and I couldn't do it."

"Adora, please . . ." the Doctor begged, falling at her feet

"Goodbye, Doctor. Remember, only a hundred years. I'll be back in a hundred years, this very spot and we'll see who I've become, who you've become. The boys will know all about you, I'll make sure. They'll know how much you love them."

Adora turned and stepped into her TARDIS. The Doctor wanted to run after her, to stop her from leaving, but he couldn't. He heard the Hensua's voice, and her prediction. He could hear Lunnie's voice telling him not to grab what he had no business reaching for. He could hear the little voice in his head saying it was all for the best, that Adora was doing the right thing, that he would have sacrificed too much. He could hear when Adora's TARDIS fired up and dematerialized, and finally he heard nothing but the wind whispering in the trees.

Devastated, he got up on shaky legs, opened the door of his TARDIS, stumbled to the jump seat and sobbed.

***** Sequel to follow: Hundred Years' War *****