F/O: Featuring Doctor!angst, memories of 8, discussions of the Time War, and the Brigadier. Hope the wait wasn't too long... sheepishg
Chapter 10.
The Doctor shrugged off his jacket and left it hanging on the coat stand, where it dripped rainwater steadily onto the floor. He stepped up to the console with one bound, absently running through the usual, long-entrenched dematerialisation routine. As the engines whirred into action, he pondered briefly, sadly, on the reactions of his two companions left behind, before closing his eyes and walking off quickly to the wardrobe.
Once there, he pulled the sodden jumper over his head with a disgusted wince. Grabbing a towel and a clean green jumper from a rack, and tossing the damp, ruined garment to the floor, he noted the change in the engines that signified the differing speeds in the vortex.
This was done quickly enough that when he returned to the control room, he already felt lonely without Rose's bright laughter and comforting presence. He was able to stop the engines in automatic, and plotted the familiar co-ordinates.
He waited, not even tapping impatiently at the controls or even moving to check his course. Just waited, until the second change in sound told him he had arrived. Then, walking slowly, he approached the monitor, complete with post-it notes reminding him to switch off the monitor before tampering with the wiring. Tapping a few keys, the monitor was coaxed into life, and he glanced into the expected empty nothingness. The now-empty corner of space where his planet had been.
The Doctor crawled across the floor of the TARDIS, bleeding from several places, including a long, nasty gash on his forehead that reached right into his brown curls. His clothes were singed and torn, even missing in some places where they had burnt right off. His green frock coat had been a lesser victim, and his cravat was still loosely hanging around his neck by some small miracle.
Only iron will and determination drove him on, forcing his battered, dying body forwards to the console. It all depended on him now – nothing else mattered. He couldn't even allow himself to die trying. Not yet.
Hauling himself up with trembling, bloodstained fingers, he blinked away the graininess that edged onto his vision and ran his hands over the familiar switches and levers. This switch, that dial, those two levers in succession, wait a second, then those two switches. As he heard the engines build and whir into life, he sighed, and coughed absently onto his hand, wincing at the sight of thick crimson blood splattered all over his fingers. Not long now, and he could rest. For once and for all if he was lucky.
The Doctor barely even felt it as he slipped to his knees heavily, his whole body going numb from the pain and oncoming unconsciousness. His one last thought as he felt the entire ship shudder and whine underneath him, before he fell into inky darkness, was contemplative.
'Now I know how Oppenheimer felt.'
The Time Lord shivered, the taste of coppery blood once again thick on his tongue. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. His hand ached for the comforting grip of Rose's – the way everything could be all right when she was there. The way he was all right when she was there.
"Why?" he asked himself, before feeling slightly daft. 'Talking to yourself, Doctor. Not a good habit', a voice that sounded suspiciously like his last incarnation noted. He snorted. Since when had been into good habits?
With one last glance at the empty monitor, he turned suddenly, keying in different co-ordinates. Earth, 1980's. Britain. A little house in the country…
In the TARDIS, at an indefinable moment in time, the lights flickered softly over the pathetic figure lying limp on the floor. Blood was pooling underneath him, but the flow was slowing, as he had already died.
It had been a long time. Too long. Minutes ticked by, as the universe decided the fate of its saviour. Let him die and find solace, or give him life anew.
Seconds stretched out to minutes.
Then, eventually, the decision was made. Soft light curled around the body, and sank in, blurring everything until he was so out of focus that even if you were watching, blinking against the light, that you couldn't make him out.
Features moulded. Hair shrank. Light faded.
Taking in a deep, gasping breath, the Doctor opened his eyes.
And sobbed.
He was rereading a favourite novel of his, when he heard the engines. Smiling to himself, he walked to the window in time to see the blue box appear in his garden, and then winced as it landed directly in the rose garden. Doris would be annoyed.
Walking to the door, novel replaced on the coffee table, he heard the doorbell ring and answered it, slightly taken aback at the person he was confronted with.
"Really Doctor, this switching bodies of yours has become a bad habit." The Brigadier greeted warmly, and the Time Lord couldn't help but smile in return as he was welcomed in.
"Hello Brigadier. It's been a long time."
Alistair's eyebrow rose. "For you maybe. You just left about a week ago, according to our time. Doris will be most upset you messed up her flowers."
"I just left?" the Doctor frowned. "Which me?"
By now used to the Doctor's odd questions, he walked them through to the kitchen as he explained.
"Seventh, I think – shortish, dark hair, umbrella. Scottish accent."
"Right, I'd better be careful then."
The Brigadier sighed. "You mean you're coming back, again?"
The Doctor grinned sheepishly, pushing his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, eighth me. But he'll be OK, and you can't tell him anything." He added, turning serious. "Not a word – I mean it Brigadier."
Alistair nodded, recognising the need to guard his own timeline. "How many sugars?"
"None, just plain and hot." The Doctor said, turning to the window and glancing out at the beautiful sunshine. He grinned when he was passed a mug of plain hot tea, and cradled it in his hands, the now elderly ex-Brigadier coming to stand by his old friend.
"You seem different, Doctor." He commented.
"I am different." The Doctor sighed. "And not just the ears."
The Brigadier's lips quirked into a small smile, before turning solemn.
"I have only ever seen you like this a few times, and they were never good. Is it Gallifrey?"
"You know me too well. Yeah, it's Gallifrey." He paused, staring at his tea for a moment. "It's gone."
The Brigadier frowned. "I don't think I understand you Doctor, what do you mean?"
"It's gone. Destroyed." The Doctor turned away, and it struck the Brigadier at that moment exactly how much this man he had thought he had known, had changed.
"There was a war. We lost. Everyone lost."
"A war?"
"A Time War – the last Great Time War, between the Time Lords and the Daleks." The Doctor turned to face him, and the pain in his eyes struck him to the core.
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
"I destroyed them, I had to. I was under orders. Romana – you remember her? I brought her here to meet Doris once, blonde hair at that time – she was made President of Gallifrey. She tried to reason with the Daleks." The Doctor snorted. It was not a pleasant sound. "Needless to say, it didn't work. So they attacked, and we fought back."
"You'll never see a time war, and be thankful. Entire armies never being born. Fleets of ships that were never created, because their designer's parents had never met. Planets, solar systems swallowed up without a trace – worlds destroyed in the blink of an eye." The Doctor's reflective tone sent chills down the Brigadier's back. He knew the Doctor, but he didn't know this side. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to.
"Then they arrived at Gallifrey. The council put their foot down – enough was enough. I'd got caught up in this by then - Romana thought she needed me. I never could resist her." He smiled sadly before continuing. "They set up a last resort, in case the Daleks ever got through to the inner defence systems."
Suddenly, the Doctor's voice turned thick, but he continued on, and the Brigadier listened, caught up in the horrific story.
"It wasn't too hard for them in the end. We'd agreed to put the controls on my TARDIS – the last place they'd expect. They stormed right in – I can still remember the screams, the burning, the blood." He paused for a long moment to regain his composure.
"The Daleks had created whole new horrific ways of killing people in mass numbers, and somehow, they'd made it so that everyone they killed couldn't regenerate. The guard managed to hold them off for a while at the outer gate, long enough for me and Romana to key in the codes for the last attempt. I asked her, pleaded with her to come with me. We both knew it was suicide. But she stayed. Said her place was with the capital, as the President."
For the first time he had known him in many different incarnations, Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart saw the Doctor cry. It was silent, and tears streaked his face, but it was more painful to see than anything he had ever been faced with in his life.
"They got in to the main compound. Oh, we fought them off for a while, just enough time to get back to the TARDIS. It's the first time I have ever wished for death instead of regeneration. I'm surprised it worked, after all those who died. Gallifrey's gone. The Daleks are gone. I'm all that's left."
There was a long pause, and the Brigadier carefully approached the unfamiliar man, before placing a comforting hand on his leather-clad shoulder.
"You are not alone, Doctor." He said quietly in his usual, calm way. Now the Doctor knew what he had been looking for all along – the chance to talk to someone who knew him, properly him, from before. Oh, Rose knew him better than any, and he was close to her in a way that was rather new to him, but she hadn't known him before Gallifrey. Before he changed.
"Thanks Alistair." He replied, when he had been returned control of his voice.
"Not at all Doctor, you know you are always welcome here."
The Doctor nodded, wiping his face clear, and checking himself in a handy mirror. Shame about the red eyes, but other than that (which he couldn't help), he looked OK.
"So, found a new companion yet, or are you on the look about?" the Brigadier started, and the Time Lord felt immensely grateful for the change in subject onto lighter matters.
"Yeah, I left them for a holiday, while I got sorted out. I'll bring them to meet you sometime." He replied with a trace of his usual grin.
"Then you can get them to help you sort out the rose garden when you return," he sighed. "Doris is not going to like that."
The Doctor grinned sheepishly. "Sorry about that."
"Not at all. At least I can blame you this time," the Brigadier replied, waving away his concern.
"This time?" the Doctor's eyebrows rose. "I'll have to get that story when I return as well."
"Not staying then?" Alistair asked, slightly sad. The Doctor nodded, and set his empty cup down on the coffee table.
"Yes, sorry Brig. Got to go, you know, save the universe, that sort of thing."
The Brigadier stood too, and showed his old friend to the door, glancing at the flattened prize flowers with exasperation.
"Don't be a stranger, Doctor." He said eventually, shaking the new incarnation's hand. "Though, the rate you visit us, I'll be seeing you in five minutes anyway."
"Nope," the Doctor said, checking his watch. "I don't think I'm due again for at least a couple of days. Anyway, thank you Brigadier. Look after yourself."
And with that, he walked across the well-mown lawn and into the TARDIS. A few minutes later, the familiar police box disappeared, leaving Doris' crumpled roses his only memento. The Brigadier sighed, shook his head, and returned inside to spend some time thinking about life, the universe, and the Doctor.
Note: Oppenheimer was the creator of the first Atom Bomb. He is also known for quoting the words – I am become death, destroyer of worlds. Apologies if this is slightly wrong though.