Chapter 20
He jerked awake, his eyes flying open wide as he sat up straight.
The first thing he noticed was the TARDIS, his TARDIS! He had been lying on the bed of one of the guest rooms, and the soft whispering of his beloved ship greeted him, calmed him down.
The second thing he noticed was that he was ...alright. He was himself. He had survived.
Suddenly he felt very much like crying with relief, but then he remembered the Master and the Phoenix and everything that had happened, and it crashed down onto him like a weight trying to pull him back down.
"You are awake, I see. Finally."
The Doctor's head turned around to find Sherlock sitting in one of the armchairs next to the bed. The detective had his hands folded together underneath his chin, his watchful eyes resting on the Doctor. He looked fine, his eyes bright and alive, and his clothes neat and free of any blood.
It was difficult to tell what the detective was thinking about, or what he felt at the moment, because the face of the dark haired man was as blank as white paper, no emotional visible, and for a second the Doctor feared that Sherlock had become the cold detective once more.
But then a small smile made its way towards his eyes and his body relaxed visibly. Had he been waiting here for the Doctor to wake up?
"Yes, yes yes, I am fine, I am good." The Doctor nodded hastily, for it was real. The bullet wound was gone, but there was a small scar. A reminder that the things had happened for real, even if the future would never really happen.
A strand of hair had fallen into the Time Lord's eye and he tried to push it behind his ear, but it was stubbornly refusing to stay in place, so eventually he gave up and clasped his hands in his lap.
Sherlock's smile widened. He was visible amused, but didn't say a word.
"For how long have you been waiting here?"
Sherlock's eyes moved upwards as he thought about the question. "I can hardly tell." His eyes returned to the Doctor's face. "Time has no meaning here."
The Doctor grinned and looked around. "Yes. Yes, that is true, of course."
Just, there was one thing...
"I see, you are not surprised by the TARDIS, aren't you?"
Sherlock grinned, really grinned, and leaned his head back against the backrest of the armchair. "Oh, well, I was a bit too busy being concerned about your well-being." He paused. "Though, I have to admit, I was a bit shocked when I finally realized where I was. Even I wouldn't have thought that the blue box would be so big inside."
However, of course Sherlock could explain why. For sure. The Doctor didn't even ask, because he was sure Sherlock wouldn't stop talking once he was in his element.
But, who would have thought that he would take it that well?
Well...
The Time Lord stood up and Sherlock leaned forward, almost as if he was expecting the Doctor to keel over.
"I am fine." The Doctor said, again, as he walked towards the big mirror at the wall. He wanted to make sure that he was in one piece. "Really, I feel good. Much better than before."
Now, that I am not on the verge of dying, now that I am back in my ship, now that-
"What is this!" The Time Lord shrieked as he leaned forward, his wide eyes looking back at him.
He hadn't changed much. Not really. Well, actually he looked like he had been looking since the beginning of this regeneration, expect for his left eye...
It was dark brown now.
And, now that he focused, he noticed that he couldn't see quite as well as before. Everything was a bit blurry around the edges...
"Oh no, really?! Of all things that could have stayed, of all things that could have been replaced, of all things it's a few freckles and one of those stupid eyes?!" And now that he thought about it, his hair seemed to be a bit wilder than before...
He grabbed said hair in frustration, but he let go of it again so that it stood up to all sides; better one of those eyes with bad sight than no eye at all, right? Imagine having just one eye...
"Urgh, well, it could have been worse. At least I am alive and well,right? Right? Yes, right." He nodded to himself and turned around.
Sherlock was still watching him, now with a frown upon his face, and the Doctor, who had his arms outstretched to his sides to show Sherlock that he was almost himself again, let his arms drop again. "What is the matter?" He asked, worried now.
Was something not alright?
"It's just..." Sherlock's brow furrowed even more. "Is it just your appearance that has changed?...Or...has something else changes as well...?" The detective trailed off, lost in thoughts.
The Doctor stood there, not knowing what Sherlock was talking about, until it hit him; of course, of course! The Phoenix, he was talking about the Phoenix!
And now, now that Sherlock had mentioned it...
"I don't know..." The Doctor answered, slowly. He tried to find it, the spark, the darkness inside, but there was...nothing. "I think it is gone now."
Sherlock nodded, though his lips were still pressed together into a thin line. His brown locks framed his pale face and made him even paler.
"I can't remember!" The Time Lord tried to excuse himself. "I mean, my old me doesn't remember how it felt, and I just remember the pain so..." The Doctor shrugged his shoulders, feeling a bit helpless because he really couldn't tell if it was gone or not.
All he could remember was that everything had happened like it should have happened. His regeneration, Ten to Eleven, had happened exactly like it should have...
However, he, Eleven, had a different view on Ten's regeneration than Ten, and everything was so confusing, and why couldn't he remember?
"Let us hope that it is gone." Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes. He seemed tired.
The Doctor nodded, but then remembered that Sherlock couldn't see that with his eyes closed. "Yes." He rasped.
They were quiet for a few minutes, the soft humming of the engines of the TARDIS the only sound around them. She was so glad that he was back, he could feel her relief and joy as if it was his own, but still...
There was this confusion inside him, this sadness, and he couldn't place it.
The Time Lord cleared his throat, his hands fumbling with the sleeves of his torn and bloody shirt. Sam's sweater was gone, as well as Sam.
He should probably change his clothes. Yes, yes that was a good idea.
It was really confusing, and time and space are difficult to explain.
Sometimes even the Doctor was confused.
The future never happened, would never happen, but that didn't mean that the things that had happened there weren't real.
It was different, though, with all things.
Sam, the future Sam, was gone now because the future, including future Sam, would change as soon as the TARDIS was back in the right time stream.
However, the happenings in said future had happened for them, for the Doctor and his current companions, they had lived the future.
Maybe you could call it an echo.
Remnants, or splinters of the shattered future which had survived the destruction of said future, and were now floating through time and space.
Confusing, right?
"Are you glad?" The Doctor asked, as he moved along the wall in search for the door to the closet. To his closet, the one that was everywhere in the TARDIS since the TARDIS could let it appear everywhere...
That was quite handy.
Well, the whole ship was handy and lovely.
Yes, yes! I love you, too.
"Glad?" Sherlock asked, and the Doctor was sure that one of his eyebrows was raised. "Glad about what exactly?"
The Doctor rolled his eyes but smiled as his fingers finally found the handle to the closet. "Seeing John again, of course! Being back! I am sure you can't wait to see him again!" He opened the door and grabbed the first shirt in the line, which happened to be too blue for his red tie, but better blue than green, because green was really not his color.
Sherlock was oddly silent as the Doctor changed his clothes, and he didn't answer, so the Doctor turned around, his head tilted. "Sherlock?"
Sherlock was looking down at his hands, a sad expression on his face.
"I can't...I can't see John again."
The Doctor snorted and stopped buttoning up his shirt. "Excuse me, but what are you talking about?"
Sherlock sighed and looked up, his eyes full of grief. "I am from the future, Doctor. Yes, technically this future never happened, but I have lived there, for three years, which means-"
"- that, basically, you are three years from the future now, yes, I see..."
Well, technically he was three years from the future...
Sherlock sighed deeply, his fingers tightening around each other.
"That doesn't mean that you can't see him again!" The Doctor shook his head in disbelief. How long had Sherlock been thinking about this?
For how long had he been suffering?
Did he really think that he wouldn't be able to see John again?
"This is a time machine, remember? This gorgeous girl will be able to drop you off in the right time and the right place!" The Doctor smiled widely, trying to give Sherlock new hope, but the detective just sighed again.
"No. Because he will have moved on. He thinks I am dead. I don't know what he will do if I suddenly appear right in front of his, our, door, and who knows if he will still live there?"
Excuses.
Those words were cheap excuses.
Sherlock's shoulders slumped forward. "Who knows if he will still remember me..."
That was enough now! The Doctor walked up to Sherlock and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him violently. "Don't you say that, Sherlock Holmes! If there is one thing that John Watson won't do then it is forgetting you! You should know that!" The Doctor let go of Sherlock, who looked rather shocked now, his pale eyes wide and his hair ruffled. "I will drop you off, right were we left in time, and you will tell him! You will tell him that you will come home!" The Doctor leaned back. "You'll tell him to wait, three years, or so help me I'll tell him if you don't!"
You don't even need to wait three years, Sherlock.
Those three years, they didn't affect your body, your age, only your soul.
You could return.
You know that, don't you?
...
Of course you do.
Sherlock just stared up at him, and he seemed surprise, was surprised, and the Doctor was sure that he would agree, that he would come to his sense now.
"No."
Now it was the Doctor who was baffled.
"No?" He asked, slowly, sitting down onto the bed, his eyes on Sherlock. What did he mean, no?...
"No." Sherlock said, again. His voice was strong. "I don't want him to wait for me. I want him to live his life. A life that I took from him by getting him involved into all...this." He gestured with his hands in the air.
He probably meant the whole situation they were in.
"He won't recover if he's waiting for me, not knowing if I will come back. I don't want him to end like Sam, the future Sam, and believe me, I know how he did end up." The detective paused. "Sam was broken. Because he had been waiting for his brother to return." Sherlock smiled as he added, "And John will find someone. A nice woman, someone to talk to."
"I was jealous and always in the way...I looked at him as a kind of property, a friend that was only meant for me... And I think that the three years without me will do him good."
Maybe that was right, but one thing was for sure; this was breaking Sherlock's heart, and the Doctor couldn't have that. "Are you sure, Sherlock?" He asked, leaning his elbows onto his legs. "If you would want I could drop you off where we left. Okay, you wouldn't even be from the future, not really, and-"
Sherlock shook his head, his face grim. "No. No Doctor, it is alright. I think the world had enough Sherlock Holmes for now. Three years, maybe, and I will be back."
No.
No, that was not true.
"Sherlock, you have done-"
"- more than enough for now."
And that was when the Doctor realized that Sherlock was tired.
Tired of the people judging him, tired of the expectations they had, tired of the man they had labeled him, tired of his name.
Yes, Sherlock could go back to John.
He could.
The 3 years he had lived in the future had never happened, not really.
Yes, he did remember them, yes, he had lived them ,but no, technically they never happened, and that was why Sherlock hadn't been gone, not for real.
Sherlock knew that. He was smart.
He had figured it out already.
But, he didn't want to go back.
He could go - but he didn't.
The Doctor sighed and shook his head slightly. "You are incredible stupid for being so smart..."
Sherlock just smiled in return, though he was everything else than happy.
"You will end up alone, all on your own, you know that, don't you?" The Doctor eyed Sherlock, urging him to change his mind, but the detective stayed stubborn. "I know how it feels to be alone." The Doctor continued. "It's not good, never good, not for too long. You need someone, friends-"
"I don't have friends." Sherlock answered, and his gaze was cold again as he glanced down at his hands. "I don't need them. Alone is all I have, and it's enough for now."
Ah, stubborn, so stubborn.
Maybe he would change his mind.
Maybe.
"No." The Doctor agreed. "You don't need friends. You are capable to survive on your own, I am sure, but it's not about needing them. It's about letting them in."
Sherlock looked up, a frown upon his face, and the Doctor smiled gently.
"Maybe you don't necessarily need friends." He took a deep breath and stood up, smoothing his shirt down. "But what would we, you, be without friends? Without people who care about you."
Sherlock was silent.
The Doctor continued, "And even you have friends, Sherlock, yes, yes you do, don't look at me like that! We are you friends, and we won't let you down, though-" The Doctor raised his hand to stop Sherlock from interrupting him. "I accept your decision. If that's what you want, then that's what you want. Just..." The Time Lord's mismatched eyes met the pale blue one's of the detective. "Just remember that we are here. You just have to let us in, okay?"
Sherlock swallowed hard, and for a split second the Doctor could see the gratefulness flickering across the pale face.
"If you say so."
The Doctor didn't ask him about John again.
Didn't ask if he should tell John that Sherlock was alive.
Didn't ask anything.
And, Sherlock didn't say anything.
The TARDIS whispered softly, telling him to go and look for the Master, who was playing with the console.
He is so annoying! She mumbled. l don't like him.
Of course she didn't. Who would, after what he had done?
"You should get some sleep." The Doctor nodded towards the bed. "I have to ..."
"I know." Sherlock rolled his eyes, but he wasn't annoyed. It was more because he had already figured out what the Doctor was about to do.
"Good luck."
Good luck? What for?
The Doctor walked towards the door but stopped in the doorway, his hand on the frame.
"You can travell with me." He offered, his voice low and meaningful.
Sherlock didn't answer, and the Doctor sighed.
The TARDIS was humming, ranting about the Master all the while during the short walk upstairs. The poor old girl was really upset, and the Doctor apologized for the Master's rude behavior. Luckily his girl wasn't too angry.
His shoes were clacking with every step he took on the glass.
The engine was louder here, mostly because of the tube in the middle of the console. The Doctor noticed some loose cables underneath the stairs, and made a mental note for himself to repair the mess as soon as he had time for it.
Anyway, he was sure the TARDIS would remind him of doing his task.
The Doctor arrived at the top of the stairs, on the platform, and he immediately saw the Master's blond hair behind the tube. The other Time Lord was busy playing around with the different buttons and controllers, but the Doctor was sure that he had noticed him.
The TARDIS hissed, telling the Doctor to tell the Master that he should stop, because no, he wasn't listening to her.
The Doctor sighed, running his hand through his wild hair as he slowly approached the Master.
"I see that you have fun."
The Master didn't look up, but the Doctor could see his expression becoming harder, colder. His whole body seemed to turn into a defensive posture, clearly telling the Doctor that he wasn't welcome around the Master.
The Doctor noticed that the blond Time Lord wore his old clothes again, and his hair was dirty. The Master didn't seem to mind that, though.
If he missed the suit? And his house? And everything?
For sure he did.
"And I see that you are alive." The Master uttered bitterly, without looking up. He switched one handle and the TARDIS began to make a rattling sound.
"Stop that, will you!" The Doctor couldn't help but to snap. He rushed to the Master's side and pushed him away from the console to set things right again.
"She already suffered enough, thanks to you! Also, she's utterly angry at you."
The Doctor was sure that the Master rolled his eyes behind his back.
"Who cares? Ah, right-" He paused, and his voice became darker. "You do, oh great Doctor! I am so sorry for trying to fly that stupid ship!"
The TARDIS shrieked in outrage, and the Master gasped in shock as the railing underneath his hands buzzed with electricity.
"Don't anger her, stupid! She's already mad, don't make it worse!"
He turned around; the Master had his arms crossed in front of his chest, his lips pressed together into a thin line as he looked everywhere else but the Doctor.
"Can't get any worse." He murmured.
A sudden pang of regret hit the Doctor as he saw the Master standing there, his shoulders slouched forward and his eyes cold, and he sighed deeply.
This was the Master's fault, it really was, had been.
But still...
"You could have destroyed the Universe..."
The Master huffed in annoyance, still not looking at the Doctor. He looked pale, the Doctor noticed, even in the warm light of the console room, and his brown eyes seemed darker than usually.
"Didn't happen, though, didn't it?"
The Doctor smiled slightly, but stopped again because the Master still refused to look at him. "Why did you help us?" He asked and walked right up in front of the Master. Maybe now he would look at him, but the Master didn't. Instead he looked at something behind the Doctor, somewhere over is right shoulder.
"Because I had to!" The Master spat, anger in his voice, but the Doctor had the feeling that this was not real anger...
It also wasn't the real answer.
"Because I had no other choice, that's why!"
"It was your fault." The Doctor replied, and the Master laughed bitterly.
"Oh, was it? Right, now that you mentioned it..." He paused and his eyes darkened even further. "Don't rub it into my face, alright?! I know I've messed things up a bit, no need to cry over spilled milk."
His eyes shifted to focus on the Doctor's face.
Their eyes met, and first the Master was all angry and full of rage and regret and bitterness, but then his expression changed, the look of surprise flying across his face.
"Your eyes." He said, and the Doctor could see it, the surprise, the longing...
He could see it, and he knew why the Master was so bitter.
How could he forget?
Ah,right...
Because he had to forget. For the sake of the Universe.
The Master noticed the sad glance that Doctor gave him, and immediately all emotions vanished from his face.
"Well, that means you have to wear glasses from now."
The Doctor laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, nodding to himself.
"Yes, it does..." He grinned and leaned against the railing next to the Master. "But, hey! Glasses are cool,right?" He beamed and turned his head to look at the Master.
The Master, though, looked everything else than amused. He stared ahead, deep in thoughts while his jaw was clenched.
You are not him, you are not him, you are not!
"I am sorry."
The Master furrowed his brow. "What for?" He asked, seemingly bored while staring ahead.
For dying. For regenerating. For not being able to remember. For not being who I once was.
The Doctor shrugged his shoulders instead of saying anything that was on his mind.
"I know that you loved him. You still do - No, don't deny it, I can read your face like an open book." He took a deep breath, his gaze directed at the ceiling while the Master stared at him. "I am not him. Won't be, ever again. You don't like me, I know. You probably can't put up with that stupid personality that I am right now. And I bet you don't even like my face. I am sorry for that. I would try to change, I would, but it is pointless. He's gone, I am here, and you have to live with that."
The Master stared at the Doctor, his brown eyes wide as looked at the other man.
The Doctor straightened his back, his hands tightening around the railing behind himself.
His hearts were pounding in his chest as he held the intense gaze of the Master.
"You are unbelievable." The Master spat, and it was not what the Doctor had expected. Maybe he should have, but he didn't. "You think I need this!?"
The Doctor blinked in surprise. "Need what? I only tried to-"
"Stop pitying me!" The blond Time Lord leaned back, away from the Doctor, his angry eyes on the hurt face of the Doctor. "I don't need your pity, or your damn sympathy, don't you get it!? Your face alone makes me sick and I hate your attitude, I hate the way you are the most childish old man I have ever seen and I hate everything you are!" He took a deep breath and turned around, kicking the console of the TARDIS while doing so. The ship hissed and rattled, hurt by the behavior of the Time Lord. "So stop bloody worrying about me-" He spun around to face the Doctor again "- and put yourself together for once! You are so embarrassing!"
Those words hit home, and the Doctor bit back a gasp. His hands tightened even further around the cold steel of the railing as he raised his head high.
He felt like crying, maybe, but he was too proud to show it now, not now, not right now. He was not afraid of crying, but he knew that,right now, it would lead to nothing, besides the Master laughing at him.
There was a sudden coldness, spreading inside him, and he realized that is was anger.
And, there were many things that he could say now, things which had been running through his head for years after years, things that would hurt the Master just as he had hurt the Doctor, but no, he wouldn't say anything. He was not like the Master, would never be, at least that was what he told himself.
But,than again, it wasn't the Master's fault that he was who he was now.
"Stop yelling." He just said, and his voice sounded cold to his own ears. "I can hear you quite well." It was steady, his voice, and it surprised himself. He had the urge to look away, to grab his hands and look at the floor, but he didn't. He didn't move.
The Master laughed and grabbed his blond hair, his face a pained grimace, a thing between a grin and a desperate frown. As if he was close to crying, too.
"I am so sick of you! Of this!"
The light of the control room made the shadows underneath his eyes even darker, and his blond hair glowed almost white. Like a halo made of light.
The Doctor pressed his lips together as he watched the Master ranting about him.
It would be a lie to say that he didn't mind, but the fact that he Master appeared to be close to a mental breakdown lessened the hardness of his words.
He didn't mean them the way he said them.
He didn't know what he just said.
He was just desperate and didn't know how to handle it.
That was all.
"I hate it! I hate all of it, everything!"
The Doctor ignored the words, ignored the rage, and walked up to the Master, who was clutching the console with his hands now, his head bowed while he whispered something in Gallifreyan. His shoulders were shaking, with anger or silent sobs wasn't clear.
"I just want it to end!"
The Doctor stopped, standing close to the Master now, right beside him, looking down upon his bowed head.
He tried to find words.
He couldn't find them.
No language could describe the feelings he had now, the words he wanted to say. And so he leaned closer, his arms outstretched, and hugged the Master.
Carefully, carefully, so he wouldn't be pushed away.
"Let fucking go of me! Don't touch me!" The Master hissed, and tried to wriggle free, but the Doctor just tightened his arms around him.
"No." He said, calmly, not letting go.
"What, no!?" The Master nearly yelled into the Doctor's ear, his hands trying to push him away. "I said let go!"
"I know." The Doctor replied calmly.
The TARDIS hummed softly. She was wondering, but not asking questions.
She was watching.
"Then why won't you let go?!"
The Doctor smiled slightly, even if the Master couldn't see it.
"Because I let go of you often enough."
The Master stopped struggling, and the Doctor could hear a sharp gasp. However, the Master didn't say anything else, something that surprised the Doctor.
They stood there for quiet some time, silently, until the Master broke the embrace.
"That doesn't change a thing!" He grumbled. "Not a single one! You hear me!?"
The Doctor smiled.
"Yes, sure. Of course."
And then it was over, just like that, and everything was back to normal.
He paused, then he clapped his hands, a grin spreading over his lips.
"Would you like some tea? I think that is a brilliant idea, isn't it? Tea?"
Wasn't it?