Chapter CI
Doctor
He was alone again. This time for real. He had no illusions about that, with the Master dead and Mira knowing what he had done. They hadn't talk yet – but was there really anything to talk about? Nothing he could say or do would make up for this. And, for the first time ever, he had no idea what he should do now. Sure, back to the TARIDS, but then?
After one last look at the pyre he lowered his head and turned around, his hands shoved in his pockets. As he walked away he got the feeling as if someone was watching him. And indeed, as he looked up, there was a figure, a few feed away. Hands in her pockets just like him, her long hair flowing softly in the wind. So she had come to tell him what she thought of him? Well, he deserved it.
"You came back?" he asked when he had reached her, his voice thin and insecure.
"Why wouldn't I?" she replied. "And...," she paused and turned her head to the funeral pyre, then back to him, sighed and continued, "I'm sorry for your loss."
He could hear how much effort it took her to say that, to make it sound sincere and honest, and he didn't blame her. After all what the Master had done to humanity, to her and to him, he just couldn't blame her. She most likely didn't even care for the Master's death, but she seemed to acknowledge that he had lost someone with whom he shared a rather long history with.
I don't deserve her.
Had he told her the truth from the beginning, it might have gone different. But he hadn't.
"I thought... After I told you what I've done, you-," he started but then was lost for words.
"That was bad timing if I've ever seen one," she said. "Why then? Why not earlier, in the TARDIS, or...," she shook her head and shrugged, trying to catch his eyes, but he looked away.
"I just had to," he replied. "I didn't want you to hear it from someone else, and... And I wasn't sure he wouldn't kill me. So I thought... I don't know, maybe it'll be easier for you if you can hate me."
"Seriously? So I could hate you? I don't even know what exactly happened. I think you owe me at least an explanation, " she said, with so much honesty and openness in her face that it made him angry.
How could she not see him for the monster he was, not even now that she realised he had killed an entire species? His own people?
"You better should hate me," he replied and tried to walk past her, but she grabbed his hand.
"What happened?" she said and tried to pull him close, but he turned his body away from her. "Don't you dare walk away now. I had a whole year to think about it, about what would have led you, of all people, to do that and- and even if that year essentially never happened, it felt pretty damn real to me. You just dropped this bomb at me, and I spent a whole year worrying and brooding about it, without knowing if I'll even see you again! Well, not the whole year, a lot of the time I was sort of.. busy with surviving and things like that, and even before I knew that there was something you weren't telling me, and I was fine with you taking your time, but... I think you owe me at least that much now. What happened?"
He looked around, sighing, and then walked over to some boulders.
He sat down on one of them, his head in his hands, searching for the right words, whilst she sat down next to him.
"At the end of the Last Great Time War," he started, "after over four-hundred years of fighting, there was nothing left. They- We had thrown everything we had against the Daleks. Arcania had fallen. I- I could have never imagined that. It was deemed to be impregnable. But they broke through, it was..." He stopped as the pictures of Gallifrey in flames flooded his mind, trying to push them aside. "We had lost. Well, almost. There was one last thing, but I'd never thought they would really consider it. It was suicide. But Rassilon, mad as he was, thought he had found a way out of it." He shook his head. Even after all this time he still failed to understand this last act of... Yes, of what? Despair? Ignorance? Selfishness? Rassilon had planned to do.
"What was it?" Mira asked as he didn't continue.
"It was called the Ultimate Sanction. A paradox so severe that it would destroy everything. Everything. The whole of creation. The Daleks, the Time Lords, everything. Not just destroy it, but completely wipe it from history by destroying the Time Vortex itself."
"Just to be clear," she said, "They had lost, and they wanted to take the Daleks down with them – and not only them, but the whole universe?"
"As I said, Rassilon had figured out a way to prevent them from committing suicide. They would have to give up their physical existence, becoming creatures of pure consciousness. It was their final and last resort to win the war. I couldn't let that happen. They were fighting for so long, and so many innocent had died. I couldn't stand it any more. I couldn't let them kill any more innocent lives. So I ended it. I killed them all. My people, the Daleks... I am the killer of my own kind. All of them – children, and-" He couldn't continue.
There was a long moment of silence between them. He expected her to stand up any moment and just walk away, as soon as she had grasped the full meaning of his words. But it didn't happen. Instead, the silence grew longer and longer. Sure, she needed time to process it, but he wished she would just do something, say something – though he didn't dare looking at her. How could he ever again look her in the eyes? And yet, a part of him hoped that she would say something, do something, to magically make it all disappear, to lift it off of his conscience. But he knew that that wasn't going to happen.
Finally she drew a heavy breath and then started, "I..."
"What?" he said as she didn't continue and risked a glance at her, quickly looking down at his shoes as he found her eyes on him.
"I'm just lost for words," she said and he quickly pulled his hand away as he felt the soft touch of her fingers on it.
It was enough to hear what she had to say, he didn't have to see it in her mind; whatever it was she had to tell him.
"Fine," she said. "You know... Once, I would have hated you for this. No, maybe not hated, but blamed. I would have accused you of not looking for an alternative, a way to save everyone. I would have insisted that there must have been a way, and that you just hadn't tried hard enough. I was thinking here is always something, always a way out if you just look hard enough."
"But?" he said as she didn't continue.
Maybe she was right, he hadn't tried hard enough. Not that there had been a moment ever since he hadn't asked himself just this.
"That was a long time ago," she said quietly. "Now I know better."
"That still doesn't justify what I did."
"I don't think that's a matter of justifying it, do you?"
"What is it then?" he asked, still staring down.
"Tragic," she said quietly.
"Tragic? There's nothing tragic about it. I chose to end it by killing them. I-"
"I said I don't know how to put it into words," she interrupted him, sudden anger in her voice. "You didn't ask the Daleks to attack, did you? You didn't ask this Rassilon to come up with this plan, did you? And I'm sure there a thousand other things playing a part in it you didn't ask for or couldn't influence. And at some point in all this you had to make a choice. And even if you'd done nothing, just stepped away, or agreed with this plan, you would have made a choice. I'm not even beginning to go as far as trying to decide which side was more important, your people or the rest of the universe. And yes, I find that tragic. That's not a justification or an excuse or anything like it. That's just what it is. Just incredibly, cruelly tragic."
"That's not true, and you know it," he said gravely and shook his head.
Even if that was true, it didn't change the fact that he had killed them.
"Do I? Maybe that's the privilege of us small people, trapped in one time stream, without even a tenth of the grasp of the universe as you have. We have to believe that that's true. That sometimes things are happening, chains of events and coincidences with so many parameters and variables that there's nothing left to explain them with than fate. And no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, they end just as tragically as the outcome is catastrophic. And sometimes you're not even the one to blame, but just another cog in the wheel of the grand scheme of things, and even though you thought you had a choice, you really didn't, because no matter what you did, someone will have to suffer."
The sound of her voice, which had gotten quieter and quieter whilst she had been talking, sounding increasingly helpless, was still echoing in his mind. If it had been anyone else but her saying this it would probably have sounded incredibly naïve – anyone else without her background, anyone else he didn't know like he knew her. He had been in her mind, he had felt her sense and understanding for the universe, and also her wisdom and ability to understand. He wanted to believe her, more than anything else. But then something else crept up, tainting the dim spark of belief and trust he had just began to feel.
"You can stay in the TARDIS if you want," he said and the words just came out before he could stop it. "I know you have no place to go and of course you can stay. I- I'll leave you in peace and you don't have to pretend you're staying because of me."
"What?!" she yelled, genuinely shocked. "How can you say that? You can't believe that, do you? I mean, I got it, you hate yourself. But just stop projecting your feelings onto me! I'm staying with you because I want to, and- could you just look at me?"
But he couldn't. He just couldn't face her right now, but then she got up, crouched in front of him and grabbed his hands so tight he didn't dare to free himself.
"I know you," she said intently. "I've seen who you are, I've seen you with all your kindness and rage and anger and love for everything alive – and your incredible ability to forgive. Hell, I don't think I could ever forgive him," she nodded over to the funeral pyre, "Even though the last year basically never happened. And yes, it is tragic. Just that. Maybe there was another way, but not one for you to find back then. I... I trust you with that, even though you're probably not trusting yourself. You saved the whole universe. You could have just looked away and went with them, but you didn't."
He felt tears in his eyes, still looking down, seeing her small hands clutching his. He had never talked to anyone about this before, and he had intended to leave it like that. He probably would have told the Master, but that was an entirely different story.
"See for yourself if you don't believe me," she said softly. "Please, just- I don't know why and when it happened, and I don't say that often, but- I trust you. Why don't you have just a little faith in me now?"
And for the first time since he had started to tell her he looked up. Her face was white in the cold moonlight, tears glimmering in her eyes, running down her cheeks. He could feel her hands shaking. And then he suddenly realised. There was no way back. They had started something together and now his actions were no longer just his business, but hers as well. For what it was worth, he would have gone back to his old self, and just dealt with this alone, pushing her away – or, even more likely, keeping her at distance from the very beginning. But now it was too late for that. They were not just in it together, they were together. And whatever he chose to do now would influence her, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt her more than he already had. He hesitated but finally lowered the shields he had built around his mind, reaching out for her. And there it was. Not a trace of hate, not even judgement. Just sadness and grief, for the dead of billions of his people, the destruction of his home-world, pain about the madness and senselessness of a war lasting for centuries, and all the innocent lives lost. Her struggle to grasp the full implications of losing so much in such a way.
Feelings he had never allowed himself to have, as it was his fault, and his alone: but yet they had always been there, pushed aside, turned into punishment for his deeds.
And there was acceptance. Acceptance for not only all these feelings, but for himself and what he had done. She had been right – it was not about guilt or blame or justifying it. She was trying to accept it for what it was. She didn't even try to put him on a pedestal for saving the whole universe, sacrificing his own people, nor did she blame him. She had tried to put it into words, one word – tragic. And indeed, it sounded so much less meaningful when spoken out loud, but now, seeing it in her mind, he suddenly understood. He had been thrown into it, and from this point on there was no way of not getting involved, one way or the other. This was not about good or evil, about being murderer or saviour or victim. There was just one thing for sure: Despite what he had done, he had lost so much. Suddenly he realised what she had tried to tell him. Blaming himself, hating himself had actually been the easiest thing to do. Admitting that there was nothing he could have done to save everyone was hard – and it was even harder to accept the inevitable. She might call it fate, but whatever name one would come up with, it certainly wasn't the easy way out – even it might sound like it.
He felt her warm body next to him and she pulled him in her arms. There he was, his face buried at her neck in her hair, and they were both crying the tears he had so long forbidden himself to cry.
Thanks to you all for your congratulations – I'd never thought it will be 100+ chapters one day, and that people would actually read it, even though my English was – and is, even though it definitely improved since living in Scotland – far from perfect. And I was worried I could write a character like the Doctor in the right way. Thanks for everyone sticking with my story for so long and all the feedback. I really do appreciate it. :-)
OneWhoReadsTooMuch, heroherondaletotherescue, Arashi – IV of VI, djmegamouth, E-man-dy-S, MiaEther, ronnieangell, VileG, bored411: Thanks for leaving a review :-)
