Chapter 7: Groundhog Day
She shivered as she stepped out of the TARDIS, though she suspected that the chill air had little to do with her reaction. She was in too many places at once this day. Coming, going, and here all at the same time. This was where the world had changed. Something they'd done, perhaps. A person they'd influenced or something they'd said had altered history.
They just had to find out what.
Silence stretched between them as the Doctor led the way around the corner. Everything looked the same as before. Same lamps, same street, same alleyway. Same people on the streets, same paperboy, same snow.
Nothing had changed. Not yet, at least.
They hid themselves as best they could, tucked away in a dark corner with a decent view of the alleyway where the TARDIS — and their past selves — would arrive. The Doctor kept his hand on her shoulder and, despite the difference between their body temperatures, his skin burned where it touched her.
That was when she heard it — that familiar grinding noise that announced the arrival of the time ship. She felt herself tense as she watched the TARDIS materialise. If she recalled correctly, it would take a few minutes for their past selves to emerge.
"Doctor, wha-" Her words were cut off as his hand tightened on her shoulder.
"Oi! You two! For shame, sir, and on Christmas Eve, too." A new voice interrupted them and she turned to see a constable staring at the two of them with a disapproving look. "It's indecent. I should take both of you in. And this far from the brothel, too!"
Anger burned within her and she opened her mouth to protest, but the Doctor beat her to it. "She's my wife, Constable. An' I take exception to your implyin' that she's a lady of easy virtue."
The officer was immediately apologetic. "My apologies, sir, but there are standards and what decent people expect..."
"I know your rules, Constable, but m' wife's in a delicate condition. The cold was a bit much, so I brought her out of the wind. Home's jus' around the corner, but she needed to rest. You understand, Constable." The Doctor pushed her behind him and, with one of his hands, he gestured toward the alleyway.
She couldn't believe what he'd said, but she knew he had his reasons. That he claimed her as his wife without pause didn't surprise her. What did was his claim that she was pregnant. But that could also be because he knew how she'd react to the officer's implication. That she was a whore. If she could get away with it, she'd lay him out on the ground with one good punch. Yet she couldn't. Best let the Doctor get on with it and tease him later.
He could take care of the officer. All that she needed to do was watch the alleyway. See what might've happened to change history. And then they could get on with saving it.
She edged surreptitiously to one side to get a better view of the alleyway. There. Now she could see beyond the Doctor and the constable whose conversation she resolutely ignored. She had to concentrate.
Ah. There she was. Well, the past her. It was strange, really. She was here, with the Doctor. But she was there, too. She could remember what had happened. She'd stepped out of the TARDIS and the Doctor had followed. Then they'd got the paper, found out they were in Cardiff 1869, and heard the first screams from the theatre. But where they'd gone wasn't important.
They needed to know what had happened after they'd left the TARDIS behind. She ignored her past self and the past Doctor as they crossed the street, making certain that she kept to the shadows as much as possible. The Doctor was still occupied with the constable, so that should provide him with enough cover. She certainly didn't remember seeing herself and she would if it'd happened — right?
Sometimes time travel was rather confusing. She kept her eyes on the alleyway and refused to be distracted when she heard the screams. The Gelth were attacking in the theatre and she heard the constable quickly make his goodbyes and rush toward the commotion.
Good.
"So, jus' when did you knock me up, then?" she asked absently once he returned to her side.
"Oi!" he protested. "That was jus' to get rid of the Keystone Cop."
"Right." She started to laugh at his protest but that was when it happened.
She saw a cat pass in front of the TARDIS, intently chasing a mouse.
The cat skidded on something, startled, and ran into the street.
The cat ran in front of a carriage that was passing just in front of them.
The horses swerved out of the animal's way, eyes wild with sudden fear, and the driver lost control.
The carriage tilted to the side from the sudden movement, sending both it and the horses to the ground. The team fell in a tangle of legs, desperately trying to kick themselves free of the harness and shafts. However, it was a useless effort. The animals and the carriage hit the ground with a sickening thud.
In a second it was over.
Her hand drifted to her mouth in shock as passers-by alternately screamed or tried to help those trapped inside the carriage. However, she knew the truth.
It was too late.
This was how Frederic Harrison had died.
Now, somehow, they had to prevent it.
She felt the Doctor take her hand and pull her across the street, avoiding the commotion around the accident scene. The sounds of the street outside were muted when they entered the alley, almost as if they were treading some sort of sacred ground. The TARDIS stood as a silent sentinel over them as the Doctor traced the cat's tracks to just in front of the ship's double doors.
He dropped her hand and knelt, pointing out the animal's path up to the point where it had skidded. He rummaged through the snow, dusting off the soft white flakes that covered the object that had apparently been the cause of the cat's slide.
The Doctor picked it up and turned it in his hand, a frown etched deeply into his face. He held it out to her and she felt astonishment and dawning horror course through her as she realised what it was.
A pebble.
Now she remembered. When she'd stepped out of the TARDIS that first time, she'd stepped twice. The first to see her footprint. The second to leave. That second time, she'd felt something shift under her boot.
She knew without a doubt just what that something was.
It was that pebble.
She'd caused it.
She'd done it.
She'd changed history.
"Oh god," she whispered. "Doctor, I stepped on that pebble. I remember now. God, what've I done?"
He looked grim as he dropped the pebble into the snow. "'S not your fault. C'mon. Time to get this sorted."
What had she done?
A pebble. It had to be a bloody stone that caused this mess, didn't it? Nice bit of irony, that. One of the first lessons every Time Lord learned was one of causality. A stone dropped into a calm pool of water caused ripples — they started small, then grew larger and more defined. Then, when the ripples reached the edge of the pool, they were reflected. They interacted with the original ripples and diffused.
That was the simplest explanation for the web of time. A tiny ripple caused by a pebble. And here he was, living out a perfect case in point.
Fantastic.
It took longer than he liked to get back to their TARDIS, but he was willing to begrudge the time. Wouldn't matter for too long, after all. Just one short hop in his time ship, and this would be sorted once and for all.
Simple.
He slid the key into the lock and opened the door, ushering Rose in before him. She'd been strangely silent on their way back to the TARDIS, but he figured it was just urgency. She knew that they had to fix this particular mess.
"Doctor, how could a pebble cause the Sontarans to invade in a hundred years?"
Ah. Thoughts about temporal mechanics. That'd be enough to cause anyone to go silent. Or mad.
"Have you heard 'bout the butterfly effect?" he asked as he crossed to the console and flipped the switches. If they just removed the pebble from the equation, just picked it up right after the past Rose kicked it and put it back to where it was, that should fix the problem nicely. If they completely removed the pebble, took it with them, it might cause another ripple effect. Enough messes had been created because of that bloody stone. He wasn't about to start another.
"Butterfly flaps its wings in New York an' a typhoon hits Hong Kong, right?" Rose replied as she settled into the captain's chair next to the console.
"Bit simplistic, but yeah. That pebble's jus' like the butterfly's wings. It caused a tiny disturbance in the fabric of time. It's all 'bout causality. Action: pebble moved. Reaction: Cat skidded on the pebble. Reaction: Cat darts out into the street. Reaction: Carriage accident. Reaction: Harrison's death. Reaction: Trade Union Act of 1871 never happens, etc, etc."
"So we jus' need to take away that pebble..." Her brow furrowed as she seemed to think through the problem. "No. We can't completely take it away, right? 'Cause if we do, an' it's not there at some later time when it was supposed to be, it could cause another one of these altered timelines?"
He grinned, immensely proud. "You 'ave been listenin'. Very good. And yes, exactly. So we'll have to put it back exactly where it was 'fore your past self stepped on it."
"But won't that be changin' things? 'Cause I stepped on it, an' it moved, but if we move it back it'd be like it never 'appened but it did... I think I'm getting' a headache." She pressed her hand against her forehead.
He couldn't help but feel sympathetic. "Yeah. Causality does that to ya. Be thankful that's jus' the Quick Notes version. I had 100 years' worth of it."
She winced. "100 years?"
"Yup." He activated the controls and the TARDIS groaned to life. A few seconds later, the frantic movement of the time rotor slowed to a stop. "There we go. Back to the beginning. We're a few streets away, this time. Can't risk running into ourselves twice, y'know."
"So, we move the pebble, won't we see it? I mean, wouldn't I 'ave seen me move it?"
Ah. That was a good point. Time was already weakened here. There was the pebble and there would end up being three of him in the same time period. "Nope. 'Cause you're not comin' with me." Before she could do more than open her mouth in protest, he lifted his hand. "I can move faster, an' there's less chance of me causin' a paradox. Done this before, me. You can stay here, keep the TARDIS company. Won't be more than a few minutes. Fifteen tops. Jus' gotta make sure the timeline's fixed."
"But, Doctor, you need me." She looked rather lost and he smiled faintly.
"Yeah, I do. But not here. Not now. Best you stay here. Back soon, 'kay?" Without bothering to let her answer, he strode toward the doors and slipped out into the winter night.
No. He wasn't allowed to swan off without her. He needed her. Didn't he think she knew what might happen? Didn't understand the consequences? Hell, she'd screwed up all of history. It was only her right to be there when it got fixed.
Wasn't it?
She shook her head as she walked to the doors, opening them so she could watch for his return. No. She couldn't risk it. She'd done enough already.
She'd changed history. Destroyed it. And for what? A bloody pebble. It wasn't like she'd knocked her dad out of the way of the car that'd killed him. Wasn't like she'd done it on purpose. But she'd changed the timeline all the same.
Maybe she should go back home. The Doctor had trusted her. Trusted her with this fabulous gift of time travel and she'd squandered it. She'd screwed up so drastically that she'd caused the Sontarans to invade. She'd killed the Doctor. Not with her own hands, but it might as well have been.
She'd done it all. It was all her fault. Maybe she wasn't cut out for this. Maybe it was time.
It was all her fault.
Before, she'd wanted to go with the Doctor, accompany him. But he'd told her to stay behind. What if he really left her behind because he was mad at her, hated her for what she'd done? He knew it was her fault. He had to condemn her, right? He held others up to such high standards — her, too. And she'd failed him. Failed all of history and time. And for what? What the hell was it all for?
She'd kicked a pebble and changed the world. What an epitaph to the life of one Rose Tyler, former shop-girl and Time Lord's companion.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Her fault, yes. But stupid, too. She should've noticed that she'd moved that stone. Should've, but didn't. She'd just gone on thinking that she was invincible. Couldn't change time. Sure, she could be born in 1987 and die in 1869, but that wouldn't change much. Not time. Not really.
Was this what it was like? Being him? Knowing the possibilities and consequences and what ifs of every situation? Knowing that a pebble could change history? Knowing that a blundering mistake by an incompetent companion could destroy everything?
She choked back a sob. It was her fault. All of it. Killed the Doctor, saved her Dad, and watched a different future unfold before her.
He was right to leave her behind this time. Who knew what else she might've screwed up if she'd followed him.
And, suddenly, she felt a shift in reality. It might've been her imagination, but she knew time was running its rightful course. They'd done it.
They'd succeeded.
But she'd still failed.
To be concluded...