oOoOo
(Amy and Rory)
The Matrix
"This is useless! How do we even know if the Valeyard knows where the door is?" Amy exclaimed, swaying slightly. The walk had been a long one, and it didn't look as though they'd find the end of it any time soon.
Rory remained silent, but Amy could tell that he was wondering exactly the same thing. His grim expression implied he had accepted defeat, but she knew that he hadn't – not yet. If he had been alone, then he would have stopped miles back, but with Amy there, things were different. She didn't know whether it was because she spurred him on, or simply because he felt responsible for her safety. Suddenly, the silence was blasted out of existence by a monumental explosion.
"What on earth was that?!" Rory cried, tightening his grip on his wife's arm. He looked up and saw the sky ablaze, screaming and burning in a thousand shades of red. Daleks swarmed like flies towards a towering dome caving in to ruthless bombardment. A deep canyon had been smashed into its side, and the metal monsters flooded in like microbes through a wound. Blood-curdling screams racked the smoke-filled air.
"This is the Citadel on Gallifrey!" Rory exclaimed in horror, his wide eyes gleaming white, in contrast to the surrounding crimson. "This is the end of the Time War!"
"It's just another memory," Amy murmured, her eyes clamped shut. She stuttered as she spoke, uttering simple, reassuring sentences like prayers. "Nothing c-can hurt us. Nothing is real."
A Dalek laser bolt churned up the ground near where they stood, sending them flying into a patch of blood-red grass. Rory winced, as a small rock had sliced his skin under his right eye. He wiped the blood away. "If this isn't real, then we'd be like phantoms. It's a memory, but it's a simulated reality. We can't interact; we can't interfere; but we can get hurt. We're not safe here, Amy! We've got to go!"
"This is the destruction of Gallifrey, yeah? The end of the Time War… In that case, where's…?"
"ROMANA!"
"Romana?" Amy turned round to see a war-hardened man – showing age and anger beyond his years – struggling against a woman, who was desperately dragging him away from the Citadel. Both were clad in leather. The man's hair was muddy brown and was what remained of soft ringlets, which had been severed for battle. The woman, however, looked like she had been a warrior from birth. The Ponds watched the struggle unfold…
…
"Leela, let me go! I have to save Romana!" He tried to pull away, despair and battle scars etched into his face.
She defiantly kept her arms wrapped round his waist. "You can't go back in there! You'll get yourself killed!"
"PLEASE!" he begged. Another explosion shattered the side of the Citadel. The dome fell apart, cascading down onto the populace like a glass waterfall. He stopped struggling and his legs gave in; he fell to his knees shaking; his voice descended to a frightened whisper. "Please."
"She'll be fine, Doctor. She learnt under your guidance, after all."
He just shook his head sadly and sobbed into his blood-stained hands.
…
"That's the Doctor," Amy said to herself, as if to convince herself of what she saw. "He… he looks like a soldier…"
Another round of Dalek fire shot through the air, piercing the smoke like deadly strobe lighting. The grass caught light, and fire savagely roared like a lion, rearing up to nearly engulf Amy and Rory from all sides. Through the searing heat and light, Amy could see the Doctor and Leela running from the flames.
"If this is a simulated reality, then our thoughts can change the world," Amy said determinedly. "I deny this reality!" she screamed. "I DENY THIS REALITY!"
"Amy, this is a memory!" Rory cried back. "We can't change anything!"
She turned back to her husband, her eyes streaked with tears (from both the billowing smoke and genuine fear and grief). She wrapped her arms around him tightly and buried her head in the crook of his neck. "I love you."
"I love you too."
They stood together, entwined as one, as the fire closed in to devour them.
.
oOoOo
(Seven and the Dream Lord)
Corridor 6B, Space Station Zenobia, 2,000,000,000
The Doctor ran, clutching the cable once again in the palm of his hand. He silently thanked the universe for being there. If he and the Dream Lord had done battle in one of his contorted dreamscapes, things would no doubt have ended very differently. With a quick gasp, he skidded to a halt at the sight of his adversary in front of him again, and he slipped slightly on the smooth floor. He drove the tip of his umbrella into it to regain his balance. The Dream had flickered into view like a phantom virus, and their eyes now locked in a resounding yet silent thunderclap.
The Dream Lord didn't know what the Doctor's intentions were. What he did know was that that information wasn't about to be shared willingly. He tried to stretch out the tendrils of his mind to grasp whatever fragment of knowledge he could find, but the gap between universes, as well as the mental barriers the Doctor had in place, proved impenetrable. Instead of conveying his frustration, the Dream Lord cocked his head in curiousness.
"What I fail to understand, Doctor…" That was a lie in itself. He understood the Doctor perfectly. All he wanted was to hear an answer first-hand. "…Is why you swim in your own self-loathing."
The Doctor blinked. That wasn't what he'd expected to hear at all. Knowing the Dream Lord's style, his statement wasn't nearly insulting enough. He covered up his surprise with a defensive remark. "Self-loathing? I have no self-loathing," he said flatly. He tried to push past the Dream Lord, staring at the floor. "And I certainly don't swim."
The Dream Lord raised his eyebrows. "Oh really?" He put out an arm in front of the Doctor to block him. "Who'd have thought someone with such a notorious poker face such as yours would be able to tell such an unconvincing lie?"
The Doctor merely sighed. "When the truth hurts, sometimes lies can ease the pain."
"Is that your excuse? I'm not sure if young Dorothy will accept that after you've made her watch you and her doppelganger fall to your deaths from a balcony – I'm still not happy about that, by the way."
"It's all for the…"
"All for the best? All for the greater good? Oh, Doctor, you do make me chuckle." He lowered his head and laughed softly to himself in order to stress his point. "All the universe is a chess board to you. You don't just want to be the white king either. You want to be the chessmaster, transcending the laws of time and space just to control your little pawns." He waved his right arm in front of him, and a chess board flickered into vision, floating in the space between them. Ghostlike, it hovered similar to a projection – as if it was trying to tear through the fabric of this universe, but only managing to stretch it.
"Of course, the best chessmasters need to be ruthless," he continued. He flicked his wrist, adding emphasis to the final word. The chess board spun in response, so that the white army were facing the same way as the Doctor. "If the black queen needs capturing-" The black and white pieces shuffled at shutter-speed to act out the scenario, merging for a second as a blur of grey before they stopped, splitting once again into their two distinct colours. "-then pawns must be sacrificed, but you know that, don't you." He shot the Doctor a challenging stare, the corners of his mouth curled upwards into a sly smile.
The Doctor remained silent, but the expression on his face implied that he did. His opponent nodded in recognition. "Of course you do, but what happens when I do this?" The Dream Lord waved his hand over the board and, like a puppeteer, guided the black bishop to a new square. "Check."
The Doctor's eyes surveyed the black and white battlefield. His hearts sank a little, but he didn't let his face show it.
The Dream Lord's smile broadened. "Your king is in check; my bishop can be taken by your queen, which would then in turn be taken by my knight. Any other attempt to un-check yourself would still ultimately result in checkmate. Make your move."
The Doctor frowned. There was no other way out of this. "If your bishop is taken, I could defeat you in no more than three moves, the only sacrifice being my queen." The pace of his voice quickened as the cogs in his brain went into overdrive. "To move my rook –" The flourish on the 'r' rolled like a livid drumroll. He mapped out the sequence of events in his head. "-would ultimately result in checkmate. You were right." He sighed, but kept his eyes on the game. "There's only one option." He looked up at the Dream Lord and raised his hand above the phantom board. The Dream Lord nodded, and the Doctor guided his queen towards the black bishop, which turned to dust and drifted silently away.
The smile worn by the Dream Lord broadened and he snapped his fingers. The Doctor's queen whirled round and round, becoming a miniature version of Ace, wearing a long white robe.
The Doctor winced. He'd seen this coming. Tiny Ace suddenly became animated. She looked round, taken aback by the full-size chess pieces. "Where am I? Professor? Professor, are you there? Where am I?" Her voice was one of alarm, only made worse when the black knight edged towards her, square by square…
"Doctor! Doctor, help!" She tried to run, but found herself unable to leave her square, as though it were surrounded by an invisible forcefield. She released a cry of desperation as she turned back to face the advancing shadow. It burst through into her four-sided prison. A torturous scream racked the air as her pale skin and white robe burst into ash.
All was silent, but the sound still lingered in the Doctor's ears as he stared horrified at the board.
"You sacrificed your queen, Doctor. It's only so long before you'll do so in real life, too. Funny isn't it? You're more like the Valeyard than you think."
.
Forgive me for any inaccuracies in the Time War section (I haven't listened to the audios), and also for the long wait. I'll try and get the next chapter up by the weekend, and the whole story wrapped up by the end of next week.