I own no part of the Doctor Whoniverse, not even a rental property, I just tell people I do so I'll get invited to the better sort of parties.
"It hasn't been three years, or twenty, either... for me, it's been a lot longer than that."
Karena stood at the counter with her back to him, fidgeting with the teapot and lukewarm water from the tap. The Doctor had refused another cup for himself, he'd drunk enough bitter brew that day: Carmen Ortiz alive and twenty years older - or more than twenty years. Carmen Ortiz living in 1930s Spain. It was impossible. Had he left her there?
He was glad she had her back to him. When he looked into her middle-aged face now, all he could see was the young red-head, her face framed by the yellow fire of Dr. Kuri's magnetic time-energy field. When the Doctor had ordered Andrew Chen to pull the plug, the time-bubble had popped and she should have been sucked into the vortex and killed, her mind should have been trapped in the gap between worlds, the space between the words on the page. No human mind could have survived that, but here she was, safe and whole as far as he could tell, and at the same time, the other Carmen... the real Carmen... was still floating unconscious in the Zero Room of the Tardis.
He remembered: a different body, a leather coat, standing on the cold cobblestones in the courtyard outside Gateway while the orderlies wheeled up Carmen's body on a gurney. He remembered the sound of the blood rushing in his ears and the deadweight of her in his arms as he'd carried her out of the cold and into the Tardis. He remembered the echo of is own lonely footsteps on the steel walkway that led down into the bowels of the ship, down to the Zero Room where he'd laid her to rest, turned his back on her and shut the door.
And then, he had forgotten all about her.
It was hard to admit, but he didn't have to. She had seen it in his eyes when she looked at him. He had forgotten her as soon as he'd shut the door. for three years - his three years - he hadn't once gone down to check on his passenger. How many times had he run through the diagnostics on the Tardis console, checking for faults and repairs, but the stats coming out of the Zero Room hadn't been important enough to note. Was her heart still beating? Was her brain still active and repairing the vortex damage? Was she in pain? Afraid? Was she lonely down there? He never bothered to check.
The Doctor had chosen Rose, knowing that it could mean Carmen's death. And Carmen knew that, too: he hadn't just forgotten her. He had tried to forget.
"You sure you don't want another cup?" Karena asked, turning around, her own luke-warm tea in her hands.
He shook his head. "How long has it been? You know me pretty well, it seems. We must have travelled together at some point...?"
"At some point," she agreed, sitting down again. "The Tardis told me about you, too, and... other places... I won't tell you your future, Doctor. Would you tell me mine if you knew it?"
He wouldn't, he knew, but he was the Time Lord. He was supposed to keep that sort of thing to himself. "How many years has it been since you left Gateway, then?"
"Since you abducted me, you mean? I didn't bother to count." She smiled, and thin, angry lines creased the corners of her mouth. "I've crossed a dozen galaxies since then. What's a year out there? Do I count the years I spent in stasis? In a cryogenic freeze? Or the years in your Zero Room, do they even count?" She shook her head. "I spent a decade on a planet where a day is twelve hours and a year is twelve times twelve days, and now I'm back on Earth, almost a hundred years before I'm due to be born. You tell me how old am I, Doctor, and then I'll tell you how many "years" it's been since you stole me away from my home!"
He could have told her, he realized. A quick scan with the sonic screwdriver would tell him exactly how many objective "years" she'd been alive, but he hesitated to do that. Her hands were balled up in white-knuckled fists, and he felt sorry for her. He felt sorry for what he had done to her. Not just for taking her from Earth, but for whatever else had happened to create such anger in her.
They sat in awkward silence for several moments until he realized something else and laughed quietly to himself. "Genesis Nine," he said.
"What?"
"A planet where a day is twelve hours and a year is twelve times twelve days. It was Genesis Nine, wasn't it?"
She nodded, surprised that he had guessed it, but she knew that she shouldn't have been surprised. The Doctor knew everything, didn't he? "I crashed on a couch in the Temple of Nadir-dal, with the monks of Kadju."
"Ah, right. Very nice temples there, very… purple. And over ten thousand years old, if you believe the brochures."
"You're a time traveler, you don't know if it's true?"
"I never bothered to check," he said, tapping his finger to the tip of his nose. "Sometimes the story is better than the truth."
She smiled and her gaze grew distant. "Every night, for ten years, I walked in the Kirkali at sunset, looking for trader ships. I saw the lamp lighting ceremony on the Avenue of Sorrows… Three moons eclipsed over an emerald sea…" She sighed. "It wasn't all bad, I suppose, but there's no place like home, with the ground under your feet, the stars you grew up... and the gravity! I've been on more planets and space stations and ships with their own artificial gravity than I ever thought could exist, but nothing feels exactly like home, does it?"
"No, it doesn't," the Doctor said, feeling a pang of sadness. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what? You haven't done anything yet." She looked away.
"No," he agreed, "but I know what it means to lose your home."
She scoffed. "Yes, well... you're not so sorry that you won't do it again when the time comes," she said. "I am angry, and I have a right to be. You abandoned me. I thought I'd moved on, but when I saw you again… this you, wearing that face again…" She gestured to him as if he were a beat-up old overcoat that she thought she'd got rid of only to find it stored up in the attic years later. "After all this time, I've finally found my way back home - a bit early, I'll admit, but still it's… it's Earth, right? Home. And then, of course, you show up here, too, and ruin everything." She looked around at the dingy kitchen and dusty corners, at the dismal house that she'd stolen from a dead man.
He watched her carefully, now that she'd looked away from him. He hadn't missed what she'd said: this face, this version of himself. She wasn't talking about the big-eared, northern incarnation that he'd been when he first saw her at Gateway. When he'd seen her she was trapped in a time vortex, running on a completely different space-time continuum. She shouldn't have been able to see him...?
Of course, she had lied to him before, she might be lying to him now. She was subtle and clever, and he knew nothing about her. She knew a lot about him. What she'd said about missing her home… he had no doubt that she knew exactly which old wound she was poking on him with that remark. But could he ever be sure? She wouldn't tell him his future, and he knew nothing about hers. Not yet.
"So you've been travelling the universe and ended up in Spain," he said casually. "I would have thought you'd aim for North America."
"It wasn't my choice." She leaned back in her chair, watching him as closely as he was watching her. "I suppose I can tell you that much. Since, it has nothing to do with you…"
Of course, the story she told him wasn't entirely the truth. It wasn't even half of it, but she still didn't trust him, and the truth was embarrassing. It was difficult, because she really was proud of the way she had gotten herself home, and she missed being around people for whom space travel was as natural as hopping into the car and driving downtown to do the shopping. On Earth, in this era, even cars were considered new and exciting, and women weren't supposed to be scientists or engineers. Her hard-won technical skills were wasted here, and she still had a hundred years to wait for her pop-culture knowledge to be relevant.
It wasn't a very long or very complicated story that she told him, the beginning was the truth, at any rate. She had met an EITC captain at a space port where her ship was being held under suspicion of being stolen - it wasn't stolen, exactly, but until she could pay her holding fees, she couldn't exactly explain that to Station Security. Captain Lujean had been willing to overlook her legal difficulties and sign her on for a two month stint as his ship mechanic. Officially, EITC used only galactic union labor, but in practice, they often hired hobo workers from distant space ports who would trade work for a quick ride outta town, no questions asked.
Lujean had agreed to get Carmen's ship out of hawk and cargo it. The second-hand, rust-bucket of a ship was small and only carried enough fuel for short trips, a billion miles or so at the most, hauling supplies between planets and satellite moons, but she had modified the fusion system and Lujean's route took his ship as close to Sol, and Earth, as the EITC usually flew. It was a calculated risk, but she'd been stuck on the station for six months already and the last thing she needed was a run-in with the Judoon while she was still, technically, being held under warrant.
"So, you hitched a ride and this captain of yours dropped you off near to Earth," the Doctor said, nodding.
"Yes, well..." That wasn't exactly how it had happened, but it was close enough. "I left them just this side of Pluto," she said, "and set my sights on home."
"And hid your ship in the mountains somewhere?"
"Hm?"
"Your ship," he said. "I expect you've hidden it somewhere. Where is it?"
"It, ah... I flew it into the sun," she muttered, her cheeks flush red with embarrassment. "The engines failed just past Saturn. Momentum carried me close enough to Jupiter, and I used the gravitational pull to slingshot around it and pick up enough thrust to get me to Earth. Lucky, really. If I'd been a week sooner or later, I would have died." She laughed. He didn't. She cleared her throat and went on.
"I steered it as close to Earth as I could, set the autopilot and ejected in the escape pod. The ship crashed into the sun - it was junk, anyway - and I piloted the pod down just north of here. I bandaged my wounds, hid the pod, and hitched a ride into the city to start my new life here as Karena Andalucía de Santa Cruz." She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "That was ten years ago. It took seven for me to save up enough money to hire a wagon and horses to bring the pod out of the forest and into the city so that I could repair the engines. The life-support shielding was damaged in the crash, but I've been able to convert the fuel cells to run on kerosene. There should be just enough juice left for one more trip."
"One more trip where? Where will you go without life support? You can't fly above the atmosphere." The Doctor marveled at the woman who used to be a twenty-three year-old intern from Gateway and was now talking about slingshot maneuvers and flying a space ship as easily as her younger self would drive a car.
"To America, of course," she said. "Where else would a girl go in this day and age? The pod won't fly above the atmosphere, but I don't need it to. It's only a couple hours across the Atlantic. I was going to wait a few more years until I could pass for a war refugee, but things are different now… You're here."
She stood up, smoothing her skirt with her hands. She smiled at him. "It was good to see you, Doctor. I never thought I'd say that again." She held out her hand, but he refused to take it.
"You're leaving now," he said, pushing back his chair and standing up, "with the Sempry is still out there? What about Antonio, and Angél? What about Paola, your friend?"
She winced but shook her head. "You're here now. You'll take care of them," she said with unwavering confidence. "It's what you do. You've shown up in the nick of time. You'll save the world. You don't need my help." She put the dishes in the sink and turned to go.
The Doctor opened his mouth and then closed it again. She knew him better than he thought. She was right and he didn't need her help. The Sempry would be simple enough to take care of, just a few traps in their nesting places and relocate them to a distant world. The bigger creature would be more difficult, but no worse than an invasion of Cybermen or an invasion of Living Plastic murder mannequins... but that wasn't the point. He didn't want to take care of it on his own.
"You can't go," he said quickly, stopping her. "It's... it's still my turn, isn't it?" He didn't know what it meant, but he hoped it would keep her here.
She shook her head, sadly. "Those were your rules, Doctor, your game. At least, you let me think that they were your rules. I guess not, if you're just hearing about it now." She sighed and squeezed his hand. "I'll see you around, Doctor."
He followed her to the door, the old loneliness creeping up on him. He'd lost Rose and Jack. Donna had refused to travel with him, and now Carmen was leaving him behind. "Why don't I just take a look at your ship before you go," he said quickly, grasping at straws. "I don't want the engines giving out on you halfway across the Atlantic…"
"I've already had a look at them," she said, picking up her carpet bag from beside the door. "What would you know about an obsolete stardust drive, anyway?"
"I know quite a lot about quite a lot of things, actually," he said, smiling, but deep down, he was worried. She had just confirmed that it was her stardust drive that he'd seen connected to the Sempry's appearance in Zaragoza. That was information that he'd keep in his pocket for awhile, a card that he hoped he wouldn't have to play. Before he could think of something else to say, a telephone rang from behind the closed door beside them. Carmen gave a start and shot a glance at him.
"You have a telephone here?" the Doctor said, looking toward the sound. A phone was unlikely in this old house, especially in this era, but it wasn't unheard of and he wouldn't have given a second thought if she hadn't looked so terrified. The phone rang again.
"Someone seems pretty eager to get ahold of you," he said.
"They'll call back. It's nothing for you to worry about," she said quickly. Too quickly.
"Why don't I take a message?" he said, reaching for the door.
"No! You can't…!"
But he had already gone through to the next room. The Doctor switched on the lights in the darkened library and stared at the mess of radio equipment on the table. He had expected parts of her ship, maybe stolen or smuggled alien artifacts, but not this. Near the side of the table was a square, black, rotary telephone – or the rough equivalent of one – with a bundle of wires plugged into the back of it. The technology was advanced for the era, but not anachronistic… unless you recognized the very crude, blinking field-interface stabilizer plugged into one side.
The phone rang again. Carmen stood motionless in the doorway, watching as the Doctor picked up the receiver and held it to his ear.
"Hello?"
Carmen strained to hear through the crunch of static on the phone, but she couldn't make out the voice. The Doctor listened for a moment and then turned and held out the receiver to her. "He's asking for you, for Carmen Ortiz," he said, his face was white as a sheet.
She took the phone and expected the Doctor to stay close and listen to what was said, but he stepped away and leaned back against the farthest wall, his eyes on the floor, his forehead pinched in thought. She turned her back to him and lifted the phone to her ear.
"¿Bueno? This is Carmen," she said. "You? How did you get this number…?" She glanced at the Doctor. "Oh. Of course…" She frowned and listened for a moment. "She did? When? Are you sure?… of course. No, I'm so sorry for your loss… Well, what do you want me to say? This isn't a good time... Y-yes…" She glanced at the Doctor again. "It's alright, I'll see you soon… Yes, I can know that. You'll be fine… You're just upset right now. Don't worry. You'll see me again soon. I promise… Goodbye, and… Goodbye." She hung up the phone and leaned heavily against the table.
"A friend of yours," the Doctor asked, casually, but he was watching her through narrowed eyes.
"I suppose he has been. Sometimes," she said. She looked down at the Frankenstein-phone on the table. She wrapped her hand around the thick rope of wires that connected it to the field-interface stabilizer and yanked them free. There was a metallic chime from the rotary base and the pale light of the stabilizer flared and died out. "Telemarketers always call at the worst time, don't you think?"
She turned back to him with a too-wide smile. "Well, are you ready to go?"
"Go? Go where?"
"You wanted to take a look at my ship, didn't you? See me off, safe and sound? No time like the present." She walked past him into the front hall again, leaving the battered telephone behind.
The Doctor wasn't about to protest, but he stopped long enough to snatch up the primitive field-interface stabilizer and slip it into his pocket, then he followed her out of the library. You couldn't leave that sort of technology just laying around. Someone could be hurt. Clearly, someone already had been.
So, yep, re-post, sorry if you got excited. I've finally gotten back to writing this and had to make a few changes, update a few new ideas. No worries, a new chapter will be posted in the next day or two :) Happy weekend!
-Paint
