Epilogue

Several hours later the Doctor, Tegan, and Turlough trooped through the jungle once again. The Time Lord held a small object in his hand. He had evaded his companions' questions about it, merely saying that they would see what its use was shortly.

They took a different path from the village, and neither Tegan nor Turlough realized that they were heading for the stream until they stepped out of the brush and saw the water reflected in the moonlight. The rock formation stood a few meters away.

"That's where they came from, then," Turlough said, moving toward the rock. He felt a strong sense of resentment when he thought of what the creatures had done to him, but he was oddly drawn to the rock just the same.

"Yes," the Doctor acknowledged. "That's been their home for centuries. Initially they thrived from the gases of the volcanic eruptions, but since the local activity ceased, they have slowly become poisoned by the planet's natural conditions."

"How did you figure it out?" asked Tegan. She had been uncharacteristically quiet during the walk, and even now her tone was slightly hostile.

The Doctor knelt before the rock and pointed at one of the fissures. "Do you see this very faint glow?" he asked.

The two humans bent to study the minute opening. Indeed there was a slight hint of light that could easily have been mistaken for a reflection from the water or moonlight. Tegan reached out to touch the rock, but Turlough grabbed her hand.

"Are you trying to invite them in?" he snapped.

She pulled her hand back to her chest. "No, I—"

"It's all right," the Doctor said. "They can't enter through unbroken skin. That glow is from their waste products. As they biodegrade, they produce minute amounts of phosphorus. That's what alerted me to their presence."

"But how did you know what they were?" Turlough asked. "It could have been anything—moss or some tiny insect."

"I could sense them," he replied softly. "Their sentience was quite strong. There was a distinct intelligence and desperation coming from them—the ones who'd remained behind. And when I recalled that you had cut your hand right here, I put it all together."

As he spoke, he fiddled with the container, removing the top to reveal a very small slit in a rubber-like covering. He tilted the container up and held it over the fissure, pulling open the slit with his fingertips. It made a faint sucking sound.

"What are you doing?" Tegan asked, leaning forward. "Rabbits! You're putting them inside!"

"Doctor, you can't—" Turlough began, but he stopped, eyes drawn to the rock.

The Doctor looked up at him and saw an odd calm in his face.

"You remember how desperate they were, don't you?" the Time Lord asked gently. "You could feel that much from them."

Turlough nodded.

"What are you going to do with them?" asked Tegan.

"We'll take them to a more suitable planet where they can thrive again." The Doctor carefully sealed the lid around the top of the container then stood, holding it up before his face. "You're almost home."

The villagers had wanted to host a feast for their guests, but the visitors declined, instead saying a few good-byes then returning quietly to the TARDIS. Once inside, the Doctor had quickly set the coordinates for a planet called Salbalta-7; he felt it would be an ideal environment for his tiny passengers.

Tegan opted to remain inside while the Doctor and Turlough took the container out onto the surface of the bleak, cold world. When they returned a few minutes later she had disappeared from the console room.

Turlough went off to take a shower, and the Time Lord lingered over the control panel for several minutes. However, he could not concentrate on the keys or the screen. Finally, with a rather dramatic sigh, he walked down the hall.

He found Tegan sitting on a bench in the rose garden. Her back was toward him when he entered, but he could see her shoulders shaking. He almost backed out of the garden, knowing that he could move without making a sound…

"I forgot to get the soil," he finally said, walking toward her.

Her head was bent, and as he neared her he saw that a deep yellow rose lay across her lap. He rested his hand tentatively upon her shoulder.

"Stupid thorns," she muttered, and he saw that she was gripping the ring finger of her right hand with her left thumb and forefinger.

He sat down beside her and took her hand. "Let me see," he said softly.

A drop of blood welled from her finger. He dabbed at it with his handkerchief. "You picked a beautiful one," he commented, glancing at the gorgeous rose in her lap.

She did not reply, so he continued. "Traditionally, on Earth, yellow roses represent friendship."

She turned her head to face him. Tears still streaked her cheeks. "Friendship?" she repeated. "I wouldn't know."

"Tegan, I—" he began, but she shook her head.

"Don't."

"No, I…" He looked away from her, focusing his gaze instead on the neat rows of rose bushes that stretched before him. "All right."

He heard her sniff then take a breath. "That's it then? That's all you're going to say?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want to know why you thought that about me. Why you automatically assumed that I was the one doing all those things. Even after you hypnotized me and I couldn't tell you anything, you still thought it was me."

"It was a mistake. I regret it."

She shook her head. "You regret it? That's nice." Her voice was flinty. "And what Cabar did to me—that he nearly killed me, that it hurt so badly I wished I was dead? Do you regret that, too?"

He thought that fresh tears would accompany her words, but her eyes were dry now as he met her intransigent stare. He looked away before responding.

"Of course I do. I tried to prevent it, you know, but he'd arranged for the men to take you away while he and I were talking." He forced himself to look back at her. "But I did come for you. I did stop him, at the end…"

"But if you'd just believed me in the first place—"

He granted her a curt nod. "I should have looked into things more carefully."

She ran her fingers over the soft rose petals, waiting for him to continue. Finally he touched her hand, brushing his fingertips over the burn.

"Turlough did this," he said. "He put a combination of herbs in the oil lamp in your room that night—I checked the lamp and found the residue. As they burned down and you were exposed to more of the smoke, you became slightly disoriented. For a few moments, I imagine right as you entered the jungle, you probably lost consciousness. That's when he did it."

"So he knew all along what he was doing."

The Time Lord shook his head. "No, not consciously. They began controlling him as soon as they reached his brain."

Tegan took a breath. "And you never suspected that it was him."

"No, not until the end."

He stood and extended his hand to her. She looked up, a measure of resentment still clouding her expression. He reached out further to grasp her hand gently and pull her up.

Still, she balked.

"Come on," he said, a hint of cheer creeping into his voice.

"Where?"

He smiled at her, though the movements were slightly strained. "I'm going to make you a cup of tea."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, but she did not resist. Setting the rose carefully upon the bench, she allowed him to lead her out of the garden.