Doctor Who, Special Series; Episode 11: The Fall

A/N: I swear there was something that was supposed to go here… Bugger it.

Thanks to: Paul, Ptroxsora, Stellarsong, Maggie, Izzy Jizzy, Ashlee Pond, JoojooBrother, Wonderbee31, FlyingLovegood123, Iamthe42, SilverLiningofACloud, and LilyLunaPotter142.

Fun Fact of the Day: The BBC was unaware that they were burning the only copies of the Doctor Who episodes until 1978. Burning had been going on since 1972. Previously, they had thought there was a master roll of all of the episodes, and what they were burning were the spare copies. (Spoiler: they were wrong.)


Voldemort lowered his wand; the Doctor took the opportunity to reactivate his nerves. "I could torture your friends. I doubt they have the same defences you do."

"No," he agreed placidly, forcibly relaxing the muscles in his back, "but the instant you hurt them, you lose the opportunity to find out what I know."

Practically smiling, Voldemort sat back on his throne. "How long could you stand to watch them being hurt? How long would it take you to break, if the alternative was for me to shatter your friends?"

The Daleks had termed him 'The Oncoming Storm' the first time they saw this face. Standing far more gracefully than he had sat, the Doctor smirked at Voldemort. "You would not make it that far."

The two equally calm, cold men stared at each other, smirking. "Are you threatening me?" Voldemort asked finally.

"No," the Doctor responded, stepping forward. "A threat implies the possibility of failure to carry it out."

There was another long pause. "Luciusss," Voldemort hissed in a carrying whisper. "Bring in the girl."

The Doctor turned sharply, staring at a now-open door and the blond quickly moving in the other direction. "Don't," he spat, glaring openly at Voldemort. "You will regret it."

"Your choice is simple, Doctor. You can either tell me what I wish to know now, and no one gets hurt, or I can torture your friend, and then you will tell me regardless."

The Doctor panted, weighing the options. He had no leverage, no way out - no. That wasn't strictly true. He'd eaten the magic in Azkaban, couldn't he do the same to his bonds? But there wasn't anywhere for it to go… But letting Tonks be tortured wasn't an option, for obvious reasons, and neither was just giving Voldemort the information. It would show weakness, and it would cost him ground. The Dark Lord would think that he could just interrogate the Doctor, without giving anything in return, and that was - bad.

So he had to eat the magic. Reaching out with his senses again, he mentally traced the spells around his wrists. Lucius had cast them, but his attention had drifted - without the spellcaster in the room, Charms weakened and decayed very quickly. It would still take this one hours to fall apart on its own, but better than warring against another's mind directly.

What are you doing?

He ignored the Corsair, focusing on the spell. It was strong, but he was stronger, and he thought he saw a solution for the energy. It was a mental twist, and the spell snapped. His wrists fell to his sides, tingling - they'd fallen asleep long before. The energy rushed through him, making his hair stand on end and his eyes glow. Breathing rapidly, he shoved it down, searching for -

There! His link with his TARDIS. She was in range, and not behind spelled doors like she had been in the Ministry. She took the energy eagerly, sending back a soft caress - she missed him, but there wasn't anything he could do about that right now. There were more important things at hand.

Shaking his arms out, he returned his attention to Voldemort. The whole process had taken 4.29 seconds. "Your move."

Voldemort stood sharply, frowning. "How did you do that?" he spat, beginning to hiss faintly again. "What did you do?"

"Oh, just a simple mental manipulation. Nothing too hard for a Time Lord like me to figure out," the Doctor said airily, waving a hand. "So I would recommend that you send Lucius to take Tonks back to her cell and leave her be." There was no need to voice a threat.

Stepping down off the dais, Voldemort gathered his robes around him. "Sshe will remain in thiss room but will not be harmed if you cooperate."

The Doctor grinned fiercely, beginning to pace. "See, but here's the problem, Mouldy-shorts - I can call you that, can't I? Doesn't matter, I will anyway. So here's the problem: you have no leverage on me. You can't hurt me, and I won't let you hurt my friends. Meanwhile, you've got men disappearing, four prisoners you can't hold onto, and a traitor in your ranks."

That last caught Voldemort's attention. "What wass that?"

Lucius stepped into the room, dragging a bound and gagged Tonks behind him. "Milord - the prisoner."

It took everything the Doctor had not to grab the magic in the room and burn this building to the ground. Tonks had a fresh bruise on one cheek, visible underneath the cloth gag, and her eyes were wild. Striding over to her, he knocked Lucius out of the way. "Tonks, are you alright?" His voice was quiet and intense; he couldn't bring himself to hold back any longer.

She nodded shakily, spreading her feet decisively.

"Good girl." He placed a hand on her shoulder, pleased to note that she had stopped flinching at his touch, and turned to Lucius. "And you - torturing your niece. How dare you!"

Lucius' eyes flicked rapidly between the Doctor and Tonks. He finally settled for taking a step back, glancing at Voldemort as well. "I didn't - she was already bruised." It sounded pleading.

Voldemort sighed. "You are dismisssed, Luciuss."

No less shakily than Tonks, Lucius bowed, and left the room as quickly as possible.

The Doctor turned to face Voldemort, keeping Tonks behind him. "You'll only get answers out of me if you quit threatening her."

"Tell me about thiss traitor," Voldemort commanded.

Raising a sceptical eyebrow, the Doctor shook his head. "You really don't listen, do you? Quit threatening my friends!"

Voldemort looked at him coolly. "Then ansswer my quesstion."

"Why?" The Doctor turned insolently and untied Tonks' gag. "There you go," he said, much quieter. She smiled faintly at him, rubbing her cheek.

Voldemort made an undignified strangled noise. The Doctor fought the insane urge to laugh. "I can offer you rewards."

Good. Good progression there.

Again, the Doctor ignored the Corsair, even though the other Time Lord was perfectly correct. "I need more information on your disappearances."

"Tell me about the traitor!" Voldemort spat.

The Doctor rolled his eyes, turning back to face the Dark Lord. "I was asking about the disappearances. Your workplace squabbles can wait. These missing people could be a sign of something much larger."

With a dark glare promising vile punishments - the Doctor ignored it - Voldemort returned to his throne. "I am missing several Death Eaters. They have vanished at all times of the day, both alone and in company. The others report that the missing did nothing odd before their disappearance and did not have the opportunity to cast any such spells."

The information was concise and neatly ordered - the Doctor approved. It was one more piece of evidence that Voldemort had been badly misinterpreted in the books - of course he had been. Anyone as ineffectual as he appeared to be would have never had a chance to take over Britain. "These witnesses," the Doctor said, pondering the problem. "Did they report anything around the missing? Warps in the air, strange lights, that sort of thing?" He waved a hand around absently.

Voldemort gave him a steady gaze, red eyes unblinking. "Is thiss important?"

"If it wasn't, I wouldn't be asking."

Yes you would.

Will you shut up?

No.

Sighing, Voldemort stood, waving his wand at a door. It flew open, revealing an once-attractive older woman with tightly curled black hair. "Bellatrix. Come here."

The Doctor tried not to twitch too obviously. He hadn't met the woman, but everything the Corsair had said matched with the books. She had done unforgivable things, and there was little human left in her, according to his memories. Still - she was alive, and where there was life, there was hope. She could still change. He would reserve judgement.

Bellatrix Lestrange entered the room, eyes scanning it. She didn't move like a soldier, more like a government official, of all things, full of officiousness and authority and an overinflated ego. Her eyes met the Doctor's briefly and widened, but she broke eye contact quickly. Crossing the room, she knelt in front of Voldemort. "My Lord, you asked for me?"

Her tone of voice raised goose bumps on the Doctor's neck. No human over the age of five should sound that simpering.

Voldemort, for his part, ignored it. "When Avery was taken, did you see anything odd around him?"

Bellatrix didn't move, but somehow her entire posture radiated confusion. "That, my Lord? You ask about that?"

"Anssswer the quesstion, Bella," Voldemort hissed, smiling cruelly, "and you might be allowed to play with my new prisoners."

Tonks made a small whimper, and the Doctor took an angry step forward. He was working with these humans only because he had no other choice - the disappearances were too dangerous to leave be, and Voldemort knew more about them than anyone. It didn't mean he liked it, though, any of it.

Bellatrix smirked, straightening. "There was something, my Lord. When I was discussing our latest results, the air around him turned purple. My apologies, My Lord, I was distracted by the latest tests and I did not think to report it to you." She - the Doctor grimaced, repulsed. She literally batted her eyelashes at Voldemort.

But as nauseating as that was, what was worse was her information. Because what looked like purple to humans was actually the Time Vortex ripping through universes – tearing them apart. People were getting pulled out of Harry's universe and into someplace he didn't know and he had no plans to deal with it.

He paled, and took an involuntary step backward. The last time universes had collided -

Rose.

"Doctor?" Tonks whispered, chin not quite reaching his shoulder.

The Doctor took a hasty step forward, out of her personal space. "Just - just a minute." Collecting his scattered wits - he did not need another problem, he did not need to deal with a collapsing universe on top of everything else - he returned his attention to Voldemort. "There's nothing I can do about the disappearances. They'll keep happening, they won't be predictable, they won't be stoppable. I'm sorry. I'm so -"

"Crucio!"

The bolt struck him; he was quicker at fighting it down this time. Out of numb lips, he spat, "Haven't you learned that that doesn't work?" As Voldemort dropped the curse, the Doctor took another step forward, hands in pockets. "You have another problem, Mouldy-shorts, one that you're not aware of." He was causing chaos, deliberately sowing destruction behind him, and why? Because less people would die this way, or so he hoped.

You hope. You. Who are you to make these decisions?

I am the only one who knows! The dead, they'll be the ones who don't matter this way. Otherwise - we'll lose Harry and Tonks and the ones who matter.

Who decides they're so unimportant? You?

He flinched mentally away from Adelaide's voice, not wanting that reminder that what he was doing was, fundamentally, wrong. Not wanting that reminder that he was violating his policy of save everything because he couldn't see another way out.

Voldemort shoved Bellatrix away, glaring down at the Doctor. "What? Tell me!"

The Doctor clenched his teeth, shoving roiling emotions down. "Your traitor. There is a dissenter in your ranks, Voldemort, and he is working to bring you down right now!"

Turn them, get them fighting amongst themselves. Give him time to get to his TARDIS, to try and pull these worlds together or apart, whichever one would save the most lives. He didn't know anymore. He was so old, so tired - the body was young, but the mind was old, and he didn't know anymore how much longer he could continue a losing fight. Every time he saved someone, others died, sometimes more than he saved, and there was no longer a point.

Still, he stood against the dark, fighting for no more reason than because he always had, struggling because there was no one else to do it.

"Tell me his name," Voldemort spat.

Bellatrix stood, moving lazily. Drawing her wand, she pointed it at the Doctor. "How dare you imply that the Death Eaters are not loyal to My Lord," she hissed. "There is not a one of them who would not leap at the chance to die for him –"

"Bella," Voldemort said lazily, smirking again. "You may leave now."

Smirking, Bellatrix tucked her wand back into its holster. "Yes, My Lord. Is there anything else you require?"

Voldemort gave her a veiled glare. "Go."

With a nod that was three inches from being insolent, she stood and left the room.

"Who iss my traitor?" Voldemort hissed quietly.

The Doctor grinned, hands in his pockets and rocking from one foot to the other. "Oh, oh, oh, what was his name?" He pulled a hand out, waving it madly. "That's it! Pius Thicknesse. He's the traitor. Good ol' Pius."

Voldemort's eyes widened and he leaned back slightly. "Thicknesssse would not do that."

Rolling his shoulders, the Doctor tried – and failed – not to laugh. "You really don't know much about him. Were you aware that his mental barriers are so strong you probably can't even sense them?"

"I require proof, Doctor." Voldemort pulled out his wand, twirling it absently.

"Why did he bring us here?"