CHAPTER 38

"And you will weep,
When you face the end alone.
You are lost,
You can never go home
You are lost,
You can never go home."

- Gollum's Song

Tejana had never experienced light like this before. For a few heartbeats, dazzled by the brightness of it, she just stood just inside the doorway of the Pandorica and soaked it in. The Time-fire inside the cracks had been cold and had burnt like ice. But this light was warm, washing over her skin like a soothing bath, leaving a glorious tingle wherever it touched. To her amazement, she could already see the wasted, ravaged flesh on her hands and arms repairing itself, losing that dull, paper-like transparency, the wrinkles smoothing themselves out, the unsightly blue veins retreating. Already, her bent back was beginning subtly to straighten, and strands of beautiful copper shone amongst the snarled nest of grey rat-tails that tumbled around her shoulders.

There was no pain. It wasn't an explosive process like a regeneration, it was much more gentle than that. In fact, apart from the tingling sensation, and the feeling that she was growing physically stronger, she wouldn't even have known it was happening. A wild, irrepressible hope surged inside Tejana. The Pandorica was all that legend had claimed and more. It could save her, restoring all the life that had been so inexplicably drained from her. It could save her father, heal him of his mortal wound. It could... it could...

As suddenly as it had come, her flash of joy faded away, the dire reality of their situation reasserting itself. Quite simply, they didn't have time. The universe was unravelling at such a rate that in a few minutes, there would be nothing left. Perhaps, outside, River and Amy were already gone. Perhaps the warm, lighted interior of this cube was the only thing left, out of the once boundless and beautiful universe. All the hope that was left rested in the Doctor's mad plan. If they'd had a little more time, they could have rigged up some sort of auto-pilot, designed to fly the Pandorica into the heart of the exploding TARDIS. But they didn't have that luxury. There was no choice, except to do it manually.

She looked over at her father, still slumped in one of the chairs. He still looked like a mess, but not as much as he had when she had last seen him. Evidently, the restoration field had already begun its healing work. The blood had ceased to drip from his mouth and his breathing was easier. Even more significantly, he was conscious. His blue-green eyes were alert, watching her with a steady, penetrating gaze, making her feel exposed, like a bug under a microscope. All at once, something in his face reminded her poignantly of Theta, that long ago boy, and she felt like she wanted to cry.

"Tejana." His voice, as he greeted her, was still weak, but audible and clear.

"Hello, Doctor." She bit her lip, determined not to let her emotion get the better of her. "River... River said that you needed to speak to me."

His eyes fell to her hands, clenched tightly by her side, and his expression softened, a rueful light in his gaze. "I wish it didn't have to be like this. I wish we had more time. There's so much I need to tell you. Things I should have said long ago."

"It's all right, you don't have to..." she broke in, not sure she could bear what she knew he was going to say. He'd tell her it was all going to be all right. He'd say that it was all for the best, that she'd have a good life, even without him. He'd ask her to make sure Amy was all right... and then, he'd say goodbye, just as he had centuries ago, when she was less than eight years old. Circles within circles, history repeating itself over and over, only for her hearts to break all over again.

"Yes, I do," he answered gruffly. "Because... I need to apologise."

Tejana choked back her tears in surprise. "Apologise?"

"Yes." He stirred painfully, trying to sit up straighter. "I made a mistake. Lots of mistakes, really. I haven't been a good father, I know that. But the first one was the worst. I should never have left you on Gallifrey, all those years ago. I should have done what my hearts told me to... and not listened to my head."

Stepping forward, the young Time Lady dropped to her knees beside him and leaned her forehead against his leg, her shoulders shaking. She felt his hand stroke gently through her hair. "You were... the light of my hearts, from the first moment you were born, Tejana. I didn't love your mother. And I hated the dull, constricted life I was being forced to lead. But you... the instant I first held you, and looked down into your beautiful little face... I loved you more than I've ever loved anything, before or since."

Sobs tore from Tejana's throat at these words, and she had no hope of holding them back. She couldn't remember him ever admitting to making a mistake before. And although, back on the Isle of Avalon, he'd told her that he was sorry for all the times he hadn't been there for her, he'd never expressed how deeply he regretted leaving her behind on Gallifrey. Memories of a tousle-headed boy filled her mind, leaning his head against the Great Dome in despair, watching a storm sweeping in from the sea. Theta, she thought, anguished. Oh, Theta...

The Doctor's hand slipped beneath her chin and tilted her head up, looking earnestly into her eyes. "You'll always be my little girl, Tejana." There was an unguarded tenderness in his voice she'd never heard before. "No matter how many centuries go past, no matter how many arguments we have, no matter where we both end up. I just needed you to know that... and hopefully, to understand why I need to leave you again."

"No!" She jerked her chin away from his hand, her back stiff with her old fierce pride, her green eyes bright with tears. "No, I don't understand that, any more than I did back then. But I'm not a child any more, Doctor. And you don't get to make decisions for me."

Rising to her feet, she stepped back from him and settled herself on the second seat. Reaching up, she pulled the padded yoke firmly down over her head, fixing it into place. Whatever transpired here, wherever this adventure took them, she knew it was going to be one hell of a bumpy ride.

"This time, I'm going with you. Whatever it is that needs to be done, we'll face it together."

The Doctor slowly shook his head, and Tejana could see his eyes were wet with tears. "You're right, Tejana. I don't get to make decisions for you any more. And I couldn't be more proud of your courage and determination. But I can't let you make the same mistake I did. You have your own responsibilities now... to your child."

"My... what?" All the blood drained from her face. "What are you talking about?"

"You're pregnant, Tejana," her father said gently. "You've just forgotten."

Her hand shot to her belly, feeling - to her shock - the soft almost imperceptible swell there, sensing the tiny spark of life steadily growing inside. "My...son." The words seemed alien on her tongue, as if they belonged to someone else.

"He's a good, strong boy," the Doctor continued. "He's like his father. Tenacious and very hard to kill. Despite everything that's happened, all that you've gone through, he's still clinging on to life, Tejana. A tiny miracle, a gift from the Universe."

"His father?" she murmured, dazed at this further evidence of the terrible gaps in her memories. "I can't even... who is his father?"

The Doctor hesitated briefly, and she could see a variety of conflicting emotions warring in his eyes. Why was the answer so hard for him to give, she wondered. What had she forgotten, that was so very important?

"He was a man who loved you very much," he said at last, his tone bleak. "More than his own life, in the end. And believe me, for him, that was saying something."

Desperately, she searched her mind for some clue as to what he was talking about – the shadow of a face, the echo of a voice – but all she could find were holes. So many holes, she thought in panic, the tapestry of her life nothing but a ragged patchwork.

"He's gone now," the Doctor told her. "And that's why you can't remember him. But you need... you need to make his sacrifice worth something. You need to walk out the door of the Pandorica and to leave me to rebuild a life for you and my grandson."

"No," she burst out. "You can't ask that of me. It isn't fair! None of this is fair."

A slight smile creased his lips. "Since when was the universe ever fair? But you're going to be a mother, Tejana. A wonderful, beautiful mother. Your first priority has to be your child. Please, just listen to me, and do as I ask."

She stared at him helplessly, indecision written across her face. Her father or her child? Her child or her father? What kind of a dreadful choice was that? Who could ever be expected to make it?

Before she could gather herself enough to answer, an enormous shudder tore through the Pandorica. From outside the entrance, River's voice rang out, tense and urgent, as the ground quaked and rumbled beneath their feet. "Doctor! It's speeding up!"

"We're out of time, Tejana," he said. "Please, give me this. Let me know that this time, I really am keeping you safe."

"I can't... I can't do this! I can't just leave you!"

Even as she spoke, another tremor rattled through the Pandorica, even more violent than the one before. Painfully, the Doctor reached up and lowered the padded yoke down over his own shoulders

"You can. And you must. You've always trusted me, Tejana. Through all the good times and the bad, no matter what. You need to trust me one more time."

Tears streamed down her face. All those times her father had never understood her, all those times she had felt she was silently screaming for him to look at her and truly see her, to truly know who she was... and now, here at the very end, he understood her far too well. She could not kill her child. For the sake of the unknown, tiny life growing inside her, she was going to have to let him go.

Hands shaking, she unlatched the yoke from her shoulders and raised it. Her eyes caught his and held them, drinking him in, one last time. "I love you," she said simply.

"I know," he nodded. "I've never doubted it."

"We've fought so hard, you and I, to get here. How can I let you go into the darkness alone?"

The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled. "Don't worry. I won't be alone."

Before she could ask him what he meant, the room shuddered again, the shocks ripping through the ground beneath the Pandorica with escalating ferocity.

"Go, Tejana!" he shouted. "Go now! We're out of time!"

Blindly, she hurled herself to her feet and stumbled to the door. "Doctor..."

"GO!" he roared again, as he reached for the controls of the vortex manipulator, strapped securely to his wrist.

She tried to look back, but the world around her was shaking so much that she could hardly stand upright. Before she knew what was happening, she was outside again, sprawled on the ground and held fast in River's arms. Inexorably, the doors of the Pandorica sealed themselves shut behind her.

The light in the museum was blood red, the walls crumbling, the air filled with a roaring sound as the building began to tear itself apart at the seams.

"GET BACK!" River screamed, dragging both Tejana and Amy away from the Pandorica. Together, the three women hunkered against the wall, trying to shield themselves from the choking rain of dust and debris.

The Pandorica seemed to vibrate, waves of intense energy pouring out of it, before it convulsed, smashing back and forth across the floor. Bright lightning coruscated madly around the room, and then the enormous cube shot straight up upwards, spinning like a corkscrew, erupting through the glass dome above them and blasting into the scarlet sky.

At the same moment, River's communicator beeped. Glancing down at it, she saw a message scrolling across the screen in emphatic capital letters.

"It's from the Doctor," she gasped.

"What does it say?" Tejana demanded, turning to look at the other woman, her face filthy with mingled tears and dirt.

"It says..." River shook her head in disbelief. "GERONIMO!"

Time whirled and spun. Tejana felt the impact as soon as it happened, the Pandorica cannoning into the burning TARDIS, with her father at the very centre of the terrible maelstrom. It struck at her soul like a silent scream - the Song of the Universe turning itself inside out, the Web of Time shredding itself into frayed wisps of fragile gossamer, twisting and re-twisting into eternity, before slowly beginning to reform, knitting the threads back together into a whole.

A whole that was something old, and yet something new.

And then...

everything...

went...

black.