Chapter 3: Nostalgia

She scowled at the passing landscape. Outside the city, the Sontaran reign of terror and death seemed distant and dream-like. Lush green foliage stretched from horizon to horizon, marred only by evidence of fires and holes from bombs. In the country, she felt resentment. The people who sheltered outside of the city didn't suffer as she did. As the commune did.

Out here there was food. Out here there was water and safety and whatever fictional peace they could delude themselves with. She didn't even have that luxury. Day-to-day life consisted of survival. Nothing more.

She wanted to go home.

In the country, she felt as if she were the fictitious element. A heroine of an old movie, perhaps, extracted from the theatre, tossed into real life, and expected to survive. However, all she knew were the monsters. All she knew was that Godzilla would destroy the city and there was nothing that she could do to stop it.

"It'll be all right, miss." Lt. Colonel Yates' words startled her out of her reverie.

She wanted to object. Nothing could ever be all right. Not on this world. Not now. Not ever. Her dad was a traitor. The Sontarans were winning. She was under UNIT's protective custody. Nothing was all right.

She settled for a sigh.

"Honestly, it will. The Brigadier'll sort it. You're safe now." The Colonel ran his hand over his balding scalp and offered her a smile.

"Right." She spoke the word with as much disbelief as possible. Faith in authority figures, telling her it'd be 'all right,' and his insistence could've been endearing. Not today.

"We're almost there," Yates said, apparently choosing to ignore her scepticism.

She didn't know how he could tell. The countryside looked the same as she stared out the back of the canvas-covered truck. Everything looked the same, almost as if the Sontarans had never invaded. Except, of course, for the scars on her hands and the dead look in most of the soldiers' eyes.

This was war.

This was just another aspect of her life.

Nothing would or could be all right ever again.

She could hear the pitch of the truck's engine change as they rumbled to a stop. They had been travelling for at least a few hours and she was thoroughly lost. She was in the country. London was almost a dream. She was a 'guest' of UNIT.

She might never get to go home.

"Come on, miss." Yates had moved during her musings and offered her his hand to help her off the truck. "The Brigadier'll see you in a bit. First off, we'll show you to some quarters. Things 're a little tight around here. Bunking space is limited, but I think we've got at least one room open near the barn. You might have to share, but you understand."

She climbed off the truck without Yates' help, pointedly ignoring his offer. "Go on, then. Show me to these quarters. An' then you can tell your Brigadier that I want to talk to 'im. 'Bout how you lot carried me out here without letting me get back home. 'Bout how you lot might've caused my friends an' family to starve. 'Bout how you..."

"Rose?"

No.

Not here. He couldn't be here.

"Rose! It is you!"

She turned toward the voice and felt her mouth drop in shock. It was her dad. But she had just left him. In the city. With the Sontarans.

She looked at Yates suspiciously. No. It couldn't be. What if she wasn't really with UNIT? What if this was another elaborate trap and she had fallen right into it? She slowly backed away, shaking her head. "No."

"Oi! Who're you, then?" Lt. Colonel Yates aimed his rifle at her dad.

Wisely, Pete Tyler slowed to a stop. Holding up his hands in a gesture of submission, he replied, "Pete Tyler. I'm her dad."

"My father's dead," she snarled and turned away.

"Yates! What's going on here?" Colonel Benton asked once he apparently surveyed the situation.

"Domestic spat, I think, sir," Yates replied.

"And another unauthorised visitor, I take it? Right. Well, take them inside. We'll deal with them both later. Yeager brought in two intruders earlier today. Obviously he missed one."

"Sir," Yates replied. "You heard the man. C'mon, inside." He gestured pointedly with his weapon, though he didn't aim it at her.

And they were going to just let her father – the traitor – waltz inside UNIT headquarters? Just like that? The idiots. "He's a traitor. Joined the Sontarans. Decided to be their lackey. An' you're gonna just let him walk into your headquarters? Smart men, you lot. I'm impressed."

Both soldiers stilled. "That true?" Benton asked.

Pete shrugged.

What were the soldiers expecting? Her dad to admit it? If this was the last great hope of the human race, God help the human race. "Like he'd admit it? With a weapon aimed at 'im?" She shook her head in disbelief.

Benton's voice dropped to a threatening growl as he replied. "That's enough, miss. I don't care who's telling the truth and who isn't. You two are under arrest. The Brigadier'll sort it later."

Yates' sympathy for her seemed to have evaporated, as had Benton's. Of course, she had contributed to that. She had acted like a spoiled child. She had been stupid. She shouldn't have insulted them. There would've been other ways of convincing them of the truth. Now she was under arrest. Protective custody had gained another notch.

This time the custody wasn't for her protection, but for theirs.

Great. Wonderful. Fantastic.

And it had started out as a good day.

"Move." Yates ordered.

She moved.

Their journey inside was spent in silence. She wondered about her father's muteness. She would've expected him to protest against their treatment, but he kept shooting her strange, almost wounded, looks instead. What did he want from her? Forgiveness? Acceptance? Death?

She had better things to worry about than what was on her dad's mind. Like how to escape, what to do now, and how to avoid getting herself into more trouble than she was already in. The commune would starve. Sure, Shareen or one of the others could go scouting for food, but she was better at it than they were. She was needed there.

Here, she was nothing but a prisoner.

A hallway, around a corner, and a set of double-doors later, they apparently arrived at their destination. Two soldiers – grunts, she suspected – stood guard in front of an inconspicuous door. One of them turned toward them and did a double-take as his eyes rested upon her.

"What? How'd she get out? Only the man was escorted to see the Brigadier, not her. Impossible!"

"You've seen her before?" Yates asked from behind her. She could feel his eyes boring into the back of her neck. What was going on?

"Yeah. I mean, yes sir. In there." The soldier gestured toward the door he was guarding with a flick of his wrist. "With the man we caught earlier. Claimed he was the Doctor."

"The Doctor?" Benton seemed to latch onto the name, as if it meant something important to him. Something that he had dared not hope for or believe to be true.

She had never been more confused.

"I dunno, sir. That's what he said. Bambera'll deal with him." The soldier shot her another confused look. "How'd she escape? I haven't been off duty since getting assigned this post."

"She was in London," Benton said.

"London? She doesn't have a twin sister, does she?"

"She can talk for herself, y'know. An' no. I'm an only child." She glared at the officers, pointedly ignoring her father. "An' that's a good thing."

"Uncanny resemblance." The soldier shook his head. "Assume you want these two held until Bambera'll see them, too, sir?"

"That's correct, Corporal."

"Right." The Corporal opened the door, and someone – Benton, she assumed – gave her a helpful push inside.

She stumbled into the room, barely catching herself against the bed frame before she fell. Bloody idiots. Thinking she had a twin sister? Stupid.

That was when she heard the startled gasp of another woman. A gasp that sounded strangely familiar.

She couldn't help herself.

She lifted her head and turned toward the sound.

And stared into a reflection-that-was-not-a-reflection.

If she were a movie heroine, this would be the part where her reflection tried to kill her.

Instead, her reflection gaped at her and spoke.

"Oh god. I don't think I was supposed to see you - the Doctor'll kill me!"

Nostalgia was an interesting emotion, he decided. If he closed his eyes, he could just about imagine old friends walking down the hallway. The Brigadier, Jo, Liz, Benton, Yates, Sarah Jane...

There were quite a few memories associated with the old headquarters. Then again, he had spent most of one life and the beginning of another here. Vaguely he wondered who was in charge of this operation. Alistair? Bambera?

The thought of seeing Alistair again, even if the timeline was mucked up, caused an immediate grin to cross his face. He could even imagine his old friend's reaction – provided, of course, that his alternate self wasn't lurking about. However, he had yet to sense the presence of another Time Lord. Bit worrying, that.

"Go on, then." The soldier's words startled him from his recollections and he realised that he must've been standing in front of the door for at least a minute without moving. "The Brigadier's waiting for you."

"Oh good. Hate to disappoint, me. Better say hello." He favoured the soldier with a cheeky grin before he opened the door and stepped inside.

He scanned the room automatically, cataloguing the minor differences between when he had last been within the office and now. The computer was new, as was the large situation map that was tacked onto the wall. From the map, he could tell that the war was not going well for the humans. The 'red' Sontaran territory overwhelmed the 'blue,' and in months – if not weeks – they would be overrun.

Well, that was what he was for. The Doctor: sorting messes a specialty. Though, in this case, he'd be fixing the timeline. No more Sontarans, no more war. Simple. Easy. Provided, of course, he could find out where Time went pear-shaped.

He continued looking about the room, pausing when he spotted a form half-hidden by the shadow of the bookcase.

Brigadier Winifred Bambera stepped into the light. He well remembered that she had always been a hard woman, but now she seemed even harder. She looked at him without any sense of recognition. Instead, her expression was sceptical. "Strange. You certainly don't look like the Doctor."

"I don't?" he asked. "What do I look like?" It might explain it if a younger him was traipsing about, but no. That wouldn't be the case. If there were another version of him here, he'd know it. He'd sense it. There was nothing. Nothing at all.

Bambera looked strangely smug, as if she had caught him in a lie. "Dead."

Well, at least that explained where the other version of himself had got to. The other him was dead. Wasn't that just fantastic? "How?"

The Brigadier shook her head. "Not so fast, whoever you are. If you can convince me that you're who you say you are I'll tell you. So start talking."

He wasn't used to having to defend his identity. He was the Doctor. The definite article. However, he could see her point. She thought he was dead – ah, he hated warped timelines. Right. "How much has Alistair told you about me? About who I've been and what I've done with him around?"

"Enough."

She was rather helpful, wasn't she? He shot her an exasperated look. "Yetis, Autons, Daleks, Cybermen, and Silurians. Could go into internal protocols for UNIT, but that could be a bit trying. Or I could go into financials - I never did cash a paycheque. Imagine the back pay owed me now. Already showed you my badge – at least, I handed it over but haven't seen it since. It's the genuine article. Like me."

She still looked sceptical. "You could've discovered those names through research."

"Then talk to Alistair. Or let me talk to him," he suggested. His old friend could sort the identity problem and then he could get about sorting the rest.

Bambera's expression changed to one of grief. "I can't. Alistair's dead."

It felt as if the world's spin had faltered – or was that just him? Oh, he knew his friend would die. All things did. "When?"

"Three years ago. The Sontarans attacked his estate as he was evacuating Doris." She looked away from him and sighed.

"Damn," he breathed. This wasn't getting his identity determined, much as he'd like to grieve for his friend. That could come later. After all, once this timeline was fixed, Alistair would still be alive. Or so he hoped. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "That's war."

"How about Benton or Yates? They know me. Or knew me."

Winifred Bambera looked at him intently for a moment before nodding. "Very well, Doctor-if-that's-who-you-are. I'll call in Yates. Then, we can see if you really are who you say you are."

"Oh, I am," he replied with a grin.

She did not bother to answer. Instead, she picked up the phone and asked for Yates to be sent to her office.

He could well remember the bounce that had always been in Yates' step, the wide grin he had for anyone he met in the halls, and his penchant for borrowing items from his lab without asking. It would be good to see him again.

A few minutes later, the door opened again to admit a familiar face. Older, yes, but that was only to be expected. However, he still had that same bounce in his step. That same grin.

"Brigadier? You asked for me?" Yates' voice was deeper than he remembered, but it was still unmistakably him.

"I did, Colonel. This man says he's the Doctor and that you'd be able to help identify him." Bambera gestured toward him.

Cap – Colonel, he corrected himself – Yates scrutinized his appearance, however there was no flicker of recognition.

Well, he could sort that. He smiled disarmingly. "Still terrorizing the scientific advisor's lab? Making cocoa over the Bunsen burner?"

The soldier's jaw dropped with an audible snap. "Doctor?"

He grinned. "Hello."

"How're you here? I mean...you're dead." Yates' brow furrowed in confusion.

"That seems to be a theme going around. Everyone thinks I'm dead, but no one tells me why they think that. Or how."

"Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart found you. Well, your body. In a sewer by the London Eye in '05. Assumed it was you because of the TARDIS. The Brigadier didn't want to leave the body, so we dragged it with us. That was right before we blew up the place," the Colonel replied. "Autopsy found your hearts later."

The London Eye? Ah. The Nestene Consciousness. Which probably meant that Rose wasn't with him, this him. So the Autons got the upper hand and killed him. Five times. Wasn't that just fantastic? Poor bloke didn't even get to enjoy himself. See the sights, kiss complete strangers, and travel the universe with one Rose Tyler. Would it be considered selfish to pity himself? Well, the other him. Semantics would give him a headache yet.

"You're buried in Alistair's garden," Bambera said. Her hard expression had softened now. Finally she had accepted him. Finally he could get work done.

That was when her words registered. "I'm buried in Alistair's garden? Rather, the other me?"

Yates nodded. "The Brigadier insisted. That's where he and Doris are, too."

He wasn't certain how to react. The Brigadier would do that for him? No. No time to get sentimental. He had work to do. He needed to sort this mess. "So, now that you know that I'm me, let's get on with it. Fact is Time's mucked up. Seriously mucked up. The Sontarans shouldn't be here and I shouldn't be dead. Which means something's changed. And I need your help to figure out what that is."

"But, Doctor, how can you be here? If you're dead?"

"I'm not me. Well, I am me, just not the me from here. This universe. I'm the Doctor from an alternate universe. At least, I'm assumin' it's an alternate universe to this one, 'cause if it isn't then we're in more trouble than I thought." He all but collapsed onto one of the chairs in the office and regarded the others thoughtfully.

"So, why don't we start from the beginning? Right now I know of three, no four, things that are not true in my universe in 2009. One, Pete Tyler is alive. Two, I'm dead. Three, the Sontarans invaded. Four, Alistair's dead." He ticked off each on his fingers. "That's not how it's supposed to go. Which means the time change's from sometime before or during 1987. 'Cause that's when Pete Tyler was supposed to die."

"Who's Pete Tyler?" Bambera asked.

"Rose's father. My companion. Though it seems she wasn't..."

Yates interrupted him. "Rose? Rose Tyler? Brigadier, I just brought in a Rose Tyler from London."

His hearts began to sink. Knowing his luck, and Murphy's ongoing vendetta against him, he knew exactly where the alternate Rose was. One touch and the problem with time would be a whole lot worse. "Where'd you put her, Yates?"

"With the other prisoners..."

He muttered a colourful Gallifreyan curse. Figured. "They need to be separated. The alternate Rose and my Rose. They can't touch…Oh, hell with this." He stood and headed for the door. "I'll be right back."

"Doctor!" Bambera protested.

He did the only thing he could do. He ignored her and all but ran out of the office.

To be continued...