Back in the Tomb of Rassilon, the Doctor(s) had managed a rough translation of the writing on the obelisk.
"So that's what it's all about," his second incarnation said. "I never dreamed -"
"It changes nothing," the First Doctor interrupted. "Absolutely nothing. We lower the force field, get the young fellow back from Gallifrey, and all go home. This doesn't concern us. It mustn't!"
His tone attracted the attention of the companions. "What does the inscription say?" Tegan asked.
"Yes, I'd quite like to know as well," the Brigadier insisted.
"Yes, we've all been through a great deal to get here," Sarah said with more than a bit of frustration.
The First Doctor pointed to his successor. "You, tell them."
"It's old high Gallifreyan," the Second Doctor said, wandering over to where they were standing, "the ancient language of the Time Lords. Not many people understand it these days, but -"
"Fortunately I do," all three Doctors said in unison. They then proceeded to give each other disdainful looks.
"All very interesting, Doctors," the Brigadier said, his patience wearing thin, "but what does it say?"
The Third Doctor began reading before either of his other selves could jump in. "This is the tomb of Rassilon, where Rassilon lies in eternal sleep."
His predecessor continued. "It also says that anyone who's gotten this far has passed a number of dangers and shown great courage and determination," he said proudly. "What does this bit mean?"
"To lose is to win," the Third Doctor read, "and he who wins shall lose."
"I know what it SAYS," the second Doctor snapped, "what does it MEAN?"
The First Doctor ignored them both. "It also promises that whoever takes the ring from Rassilon's hand and puts it on shall get the reward he seeks."
"What reward," Sarah asked.
"Immortality," he answered.
The Brigadier furrowed his brow. "What, live forever? Never die?"
"That is what the word means, young man," the First Doctor said.
"But that's impossible," Sarah said.
"Apparently not," the Third Doctor said pensively. Oh, he knew that this was a bad idea. But for a moment, just a fleeting moment, he thought about what it would mean if he could have that for Sarah - for her to live forever, to never die.
The Second Doctor explained, "It seems Rassilon possesses it now, and is willing to share it with whoever takes the ring."
"Thank you, Gentlemen, that is exactly what I needed to know," the Master said, emerging from the shadows holding the Tissue Compression Eliminator, his deadly weapon of choice. "I came here to help you. A little unwillingly, but I came. My services were scorned, my help refused. Now I shall help myself … to immortality."
John tried to take his mind off the dream, still feeling fingers clawing at him. Instead he forced himself to concentrate on the almost completed sensor, painstakingly soldering wires and attaching jumpers. Finally, he sat, or rather fell, back on the couch. "Done," he said.
"Great," Jack said. "Now what is it?"
"I told you," he said. "It detects temporal fluctuations so that we can know whether we're getting close to the source of all this. Anything that alters the sort of 'distance' between our universe and -" Suddenly it beeped, a high-pitched squeal, then a steady "pip-pip-pip". "Something's happened," he said.
Jack nodded, a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. "That reminds me," he said, "I wanted to listen to the radio, it could be very important to our future." He got up and turned the radio on, then tuned around until he found the right station.
"...receive further information. Again," a voice said. "For those of you who are just tuning in, today's Domestic Policy speech in Picadilly Square, said to have contained new movement and residency restrictions, has been cancelled. We have no official word yet, but it's been reported that shots were fired a short while ago. Please stay tuned for updates as the situation unfolds."
Jack frowned. "I don't like this John, I don't like it at all. Do you feel well enough to stand? I think we may have to leave here very quickly."
"But Harry was very clear that we should stay here, Jack," John said, putting his shoes back on.
"Harry may need us right now, John. Look, if you need help I've got a shoulder just waiting for you, feel free to lean on it." Jack bent down slightly in front of the couch.
"Need us? Why? Is Harry in trouble?" He leaned on Jack as he stood, waiting for just a moment for the room to stop spinning as his blood pressure equalized and trying to push back the image of Harry dead on the living room floor. "What's going on, anyway? Wait a minute, they said shots were fired. Jack, you don't think Harry's been shot, do you?"
"Probably not," Jack said. "Hopefully he wasn't anywhere near it." He weighed how much to tell John. He was still a little fragile, and Jack didn't want to scare him. On the other hand, he needed to understand the urgency with which they needed to move. If Harry had been compromised, he wasn't the only one in danger. "But he was on his way there and he may not be aware of what's going on right now. We have to go warn him, OK?"
"Um, sure, OK. But there's going to be police everywhere." John pulled on his coat and watched as Jack checked to see if the coast was clear. "I don't like this," he said, dark images still swirling in his mind like sharks just waiting for a scrap of food to drop into the water.
"Don't worry, I'm going to leave you in the car while I take care of it. I can handle myself, but you need to stay still and rest as much as possible."
John slammed the car door as he sat down and waited for Jack to get in. "I'm not an invalid," he said irritably.
Jack looked over at John in surprise. The mouse finally found his voice and he was making himself very clear about his feelings. "Relax John, I never said you were. It's just that you've been drugged and it's going to take a few hours before you don't feel groggy anymore."
John nodded. It was true that he just didn't feel like … himself. There was something nagging at him, like sandpaper in his shoes, and he didn't like it, not one bit. "So we're just going to go down to Picadilly, where there's been a shooting, and wander up to the Deputy Director of MI-5 without anybody noticing us, is that the plan?" He rubbed his eyes, trying to make the feeling go away. After his dream, the idea of being in crowd of people was the absolute last thing he wanted to do.
"Man," Jack laughed, "wouldn't it be great if it were just that simple? As it happens, I have papers that will get me past security without a problem. Once I'm there I'll have to locate Harry and the two of us can talk and decide what to do next. After that, I'll come back to you."
"If they don't arrest you the minute they see your papers," John said morosely, and turned on the radio.
"We now have new information," the announcer was saying, "that Director Dewhurst has, in fact, died as a result of gunshot wounds, and the shooter has been identified as 58 year old Lavinia Smith..."
"Jack, did you -"
"Quiet," Jack snapped.
"... and we have further word that Harold Sullivan, Deputy Director of MI-5, has been arrested on suspicion of treason."
"Jack, we have to help them!"
Jack pursed his lips and nodded. "I believe that we're on our way to do just that, John."
"I don't understand," John said, "why would they arrest Lavinia for something like this? Jack," he said, turning to face him, "you don't think she actually... I mean, she's running an underground, but … I mean, Lavinia?"
"She did what she had to do John. Action had to be taken to stop Dewhurst. They couldn't let him gain any more power, he was growing more and more dangerous by the day. No one knows what can happen next in this crazy mixed up version of life."
"So you think she did it."
"No, I know she did it. Harry told me about it and I thought it was a great idea. Look, all I ask is that you trust Harry and me, John, especially when you don't think you can or when we do something you don't approve of. All of our lives depend on it."
"Wait a minute," John said, "you knew that she was going to do that, and you let her? And you let Harry walk right into that?" In the back of his head, he wanted to ask, 'Whose side are you on?' but the implications were too much to deal with. Again he felt like the world was beginning to close in on him, as though Jack were driving him back into hell. "Why did you do that, Jack," he asked quietly, trying not to shake.
"First of all, I couldn't stop Lavinia if I wanted to, secondly I approve wholeheartedly of what she did. You have no idea how much power Dewhurst was going after. As for Harry, he's doing what he has to and he needs this. It's his moment to prove himself and I'm not standing in his way."
"Prove himself?" John exploded, using his worry for Harry as a way of distracting himself. "He's going to get himself killed! And if you're not going to stand in his way, then I certainly am!"
"No you're not, John, and I'll tell you why. This world has become a very dangerous place and it needs people like Lavinia and Harry right now. They're standing up for what they believe in and that's the only thing that's going to stop the power mongers like Dewhurst who are taking advantage of people's fears and weakness.
"Lavinia and Harry aren't afraid to fight, they know they have to set an example so others will follow them. I know it's heroics, but they are heroes. What do you want to do, John, have everyone stand around and wait for the Doctor to rush in and save the day while the world falls apart? I'm not willing to take a chance like that, even if you are."
John listened to what he was saying, his own fear and weakness soaking him like a blanket of sweat. The Doctor wasn't going to come and solve their problems; that much was clear.
He thought about the Doctor, about what it must be like for people to always look to him to solve their problems. How horrible it must be to face that kind of pressure, day in, day out, to be responsible for whether people live or die, to know that if you fail, all of those lives would be lost.
But John knew that something needed to be done, and if the Doctor wasn't going to do it, then Jack was right, everyday heroes needed to step up. But why did those heroes have to be the people that he cared about, the people that he loved? Why couldn't this whole mess be about other people? Why couldn't it have nothing to do with him?
He squeezed his eyes shut but couldn't shake the image of all of the dead pointing at him. No, like it or not this was the world he found himself in. "Well, if they're going to be heroes," he finally said, "we'd better get down there and help them."
But even as Jack gunned the engine, John sat, and thought, and trembled inside.