"Pause memory." A voice rang out. The dust in the air ground to a halt, the Skaro winds freezing. The two men stood still, gazes locked. Nearby, and just out of view, the body of a dead soldier lay. She was as still as she was when the memory was playing. She was unchanging. A constant. A man emerged from the cloud, walking through it without touching it. It was a projection of his mind, after all.
The man wore a tattered leather jacket. Cracks ran across the dark brown exterior. Over it, an empty bandolier. His brown waistcoat was tattered. His pants, boot coverings, even his little brown scarf; all tattered. The word embodied the man. The skin on his face, cracked like his jacket. His face was spotted with the tiny beginnings of a beard, little spots of black resting all over his face. His hair was black and wiry, but altogether short and manageable.
The Doctor examined the scene. However it was not his fourth incarnation and Valyestriandriluma he was focusing on. The Doctor was focused on the dead soldier. He walked past himself over to her, and kneeled down.
"If I had only looked over..." The Doctor muttered to himself, "Perhaps... perhaps you would've had a chance."
The Doctor wondered about her for a long time, sitting there, bygone days frozen around him. Did she have a family? Did they miss her? What was she fighting for? He made a habit of this on occasion; tirelessly going over past events, wondering what he could've done differently. This was the first time, in all the times he had gone over this memory, that he noticed her. Another ghost. Another face in a crowd of the dead.
"I'm sorry."
A new voice spoke up, having just entered the room.
"Resume memory." The newcomer said.
The dust once again began its eternal dance. The Doctor's fourth incarnation began speaking again, his voice filled with piqued curiosity.
My fourth life, he thought to himself, a naive romantic. Soft. Easily malleable with talk of the greater good, or the promise of a revolution.
What was once associated with so many happy memories was now nothing but nearly unbearable regret.
"Daleks? Tell me more."
The Doctor did not turn to watch himself speak, nor to meet the eyes of the newcomer in the room. This new element was all he had, at the moment. He was intent on experiencing it; losing himself in it.
"We foresee a time when they will have destroyed all other life forms and became the dominant creature in the universe."
The Doctor stared intently at Wessler, her hair being blown around by the winds. It was longer than you'd expect a solider to wear. Was this significant? Some last expression of self in a war that burned the self away?
The newcomer finally entered the projection proper. "Valyes was such a fool," she said. "The Chancellor of the High Council. How could he have been so short-sighted?"
The Doctor considered this for a moment. He stood up, turning to face his friend. Her face was sharp. Sharper than it had ever been in their time together. This wasn't a face he had not seen before, but he still needed time to get used to it. Straight brown hair, tied back in a ponytail was draped along her left shoulder. Neat and even bangs sat over her eyebrows. Underneath were deep blue eyes, a sharp nose, and thin lips. She was a stern-looking woman, now. Made so by her time in office.
"The same could be asked of all of us, Romana."
It was true, as much as they both hated to admit it. They believed there were countless times this could've been averted.
"Why are you watching this again?" she asked. They both knew the answer, but she felt the need to ask, regardless. It was not the first time she had asked, and it was far from the first time either of them had caught the other lost in the past.
"I don't know. I come back to this moment, always. Looking, perhaps? Trying to figure out if there was something I'd missed. Some tiny detail that could unravel the web we find ourselves in."
The Doctor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was tired.
"Doctor..." Romana started to speak, but was cut off buy the projection of Valyes. The Doctor too, about to scold her, found himself interrupted. He was a picture of their past refusing to leave them be. A specter hanging over their heads.
"...affect their genetic development so that they evolve..."
Romana sighed. She had no love for Valyes. The fact that his projection was interrupting her, mirroring their time in congress, did not help his rather low standing with her.
"This is set in stone. It always was. This is where it began, and I don't believe you'll get anything from these two. But you have found something new, haven't you?"
Romana's finger came up, guiding the Doctor's gaze to Wessler's body. The Doctor again seemed to lose himself as he stared at her. Romana didn't know what to do. Times were different, now. The playfulness that may have once defined their relationship was all but gone. She decided to take a risk, edging closer to him in measured steps. She reached out, and lay a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.
The Doctor quickly whipped around, her hand being torn away from his shoulder. He looked at her, with a sort of shock in his eyes. Was it shock? She considered this for a moment. Shock, punctuated by a deep-seated worry, perhaps. He looked outwardly frightened, as if afraid of physical contact. He moved as one would expect a soldier under fire; quickly, and reflexively. The Doctor too, realized what he had done. During any other life, he would have welcomed the comforting embrace of familiar company. Especially now that he and Romana mirrored each other, so. New faces. Long, tired ones. Once chipper, upbeat personalities beaten and worn down to the bone.
"You're here," Valyes once again spoke, a tone of mocking indignation evident. "This is Skaro."
"Cease playback." The Doctor said quietly.
The memory began to fade, much like one would expect a TARDIS would. The process was slower, with the horizon vanishing first. As it did, the Gallifreyan memory chamber faded back into view. The dust of Skaro vanished, the four walls flanking The Doctor and Romana now fully visible.
A staircase appeared, leading down and away from the platform. Below, a long hallway leading out of the chamber, large ornate pillars on either side. Monuments to the decadence of this place. As Wessler faded from view, The Doctor offered her one last mournful glance.
The last part of the memory to vanish was The Doctor himself. Romana once again stood at The Doctor's side, both their eyes falling on his Fourth, fading life.
"What happened to us?" Romana asked.
Curiously, she seemed to be regarding the projection, instead of the genuine article standing next to her. As the smiling face of the man with the hat and scarf vanished, the gruff, almost angry voice of the current Doctor rang out.
"We became old." Romana wanted to say she missed them. She wanted to tell him the truth. She missed him, those times they shared, everything. She could not bring herself to, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly why. The Doctor too, found himself in the same position.
There they stood, two strangers. Neither had the will, or perhaps the desire to grasp at the flickering embers of happiness fading away before them.
"Why are you here, Romana?" The Doctor finally asked, looking away from the spot where Wessler once lay.
"The council has requested my presence. Quite out of the blue, actually. I was hoping you could join me." She tilted her head, a dry smile creeping up on her face.
The Doctor did not return it. "They'd let you bring me of all people sit in on their congress?"
Romana's brow furrowed. Her back straightened, taking a stance more in line with her current station.
"I am the Lady President. I can do what I damn well please."
At this, The Doctor laughed, taking an exaggerated curtsey. The action seemed to surprise him and Romana equally. Perhaps the past wasn't so far off, after all. The Doctor, not backing down, as he was already in too deep at this point, spoke.
"I would be honored to accompany you, Lady President."
"Respect for authority, Doctor? That is certainly a first." Romana playfully countered. The Doctor's face grew weary, his eyes seeming to glaze over slightly.
"That's not my name anymore."
The Doctor made his way off the memory projection platform by way of the stairs, heading down into the hallway towards the exit. Romana did not move, her habit of calling him by that name all those years still seemed to bite her every now and again. She opted to fix her robes instead of following. As The Doctor made his way down towards the exit, he turned around.
"Well?" He asked, some of the light that Romana had loved having returned. "We're going to be late."
No matter the face, no matter the life, the light that The Doctor seemed to exude was infectious. He lifted his arm in offering to her.
Romana, having fixed the supposed problems with her robe, rushed down to greet him. She linked her arm with his, and off they went. Romana closed her eyes for a moment. In her mind's eye, they were back in Paris on Earth, walking through the Louvre. In another instance, they walked along the translucent steps of the Starbrand staircase, wreathed in the blessed light of infinite possibility. She was happy for the briefest of moments, the door of the memory chamber opening and snapping her out of it.
"I miss your scarf." She said. "That old thing?" The Doctor scoffed. "What I have now is so much more sensible."
The Doctor adjusted his scarf, as if he was soothing it, trying to reassure it despite Romana's words.
"Boring is the word I'd use." She said, blankly. The Doctor smiled, but said nothing else. The two of them silently walked on, the Panoptican awaiting.