This story has been rewritten. Please see chapter 1 for details.
Chapter 11
As he left her to retire for the night, he couldn't shake the ominous sensation trickling along his time sense. Something was coming, and soon. He stopped mid-way down the corridor.
What in the name of Davros had his ship gone and done now?
Flecks of teal and green emanated from mini roundels lining the dome of the control room which was much lower than he remembered and several shades darker. Six florescent tubes of light had replaced the old crystal time rotor, extending into a metal pump encased in glass. Wrapped around the center column was a hexagonal dashboard, all random buttons and knobs and wire.
He inched toward the console, the floor vibrating under his shoes. Metal grating, how quaint. Altering major settings without a pilot's consent used to be unheard of. Apparently it was the norm now. He trailed his hand across the notches of the inertial dampers on the dash and spotted the make-shift lab through the open railing on the lower level.
He walked back toward the entrance, then veered to the side and down the steps toward the workstation. Seven mini reactors waited atop the table just as he left them, the cooling unit purring off to the side. He tugged the cooler door open. Days of work and this was all they had. Rose said the darkness would be there in less than a week four nights ago.
They didn't have enough.
Prickles of numbness spread along his fingers and he realized was still gripping the plastic handle. He let go. With just this, they could send one person. Leave Rose here to dissolve into nothing, or consign himself to the ghastly fate instead?
Either choice was unacceptable.
But what could he do? It wasn't like he could accelerate the process. Half the amount, half the distance, that would get them a one-way ticket to the middle of nothingness. Unless …
He hurried back up the ramp toward the console. It better be there. While crouched beneath the diagnostic panel, he lifted the grate from the floor to reveal a trim box. Good, his TARDIS hadn't lost it. He plucked the container from its snug niche and opened the lid. Pieces of dismembered dimension cannon and a small flip phone rolled to the side.
He picked up the primitive communicator and hunted for the entry which he knew lurked somewhere in the phone's memory. Then he saw it, two words which incited equal parts curiosity and spite: The Doctor.
He scanned the mobile phone's log with his screwdriver. No successful calls to that number in four years. No surprise there—Rose was lucky she could contact her mysterious control center at all. Inter-reality communication required precise time-space coordinates and synchronization. She could call them as they were fixed in space and time, but they couldn't call her. Which also meant she couldn't call the Doctor.
But he could.
He circled around to the opposite end of the time rotor and pecked at the controls. If he could just siphon off the energy of a quasar or supernova, he could supplement the power reserves and boost the signal. Then he could link his own TARDIS signal broadcast frequency to the Doctor's number.
He plugged in the phone to the communication panel but paused with his hand on the lever. Opening communication with this man also opened the door to a new threat; this was the man Rose crossed countless parallels to pursue, the man she'd give anything to reunite with. One little chat between the two of them and he could lose her before he even had a proper chance.
If he didn't act, he'd lose her for sure. He yanked down the time throttle. The ship trembled under the strain of the nearby pulsing energy. It'd be a wonder if Rose didn't wake and storm in to demand what mischief he was up to. With one hand on the dash rail, he locked the ship onto the quasar and twisted the gravatic stabilizers. The shuddering reduced to a slight tremor.
He typed in the parameters. A circular glyph flashed on the screen as he drummed his fingers against the dash. "Come on, pick up you sorry excuse for a—"
The screen switched to a man in a pale blue button-up shirt slouched in front of the monitor. A mop of wet brown hair hung at odd angles along his forehead, drips running down his skin and onto clothes. His dark eyes flitted to the screen, unfocused and red.
What a mess.
The Doctor blinked and sat up in surprise, then his face fell. "You." The bulge in his throat bobbed. "Why did you contact me? Isn't she enough?"
"I think our timestreams are getting a bit mixed up—"
"Wait a minute." A pair of familiar glasses found the man's long nose. "What rubbish are you wearing?"
He straightened his tie scarf. "I hardly think you're one to scold someone for fashion sense." Not to be outdone, he donned his own pair of spectacles.
The Doctor stretched his neck forward, his angular face thrown into the sharp contrast of teal and orange lights. "But that's a type Type 101 Mark 10 TARDIS. How did you get your hands on— Wait a minute, you're not … Who are you?"
"That's not important," he said with a wave of his hand. "What is important is that I warn you. I'm from a parallel world. You're in danger. We all are."
"The darkness," the man said.
"If you know about it, you must be farther along in the time stream. I take it we were successful, then?"
The Doctor cocked his head to the side. "We?"
"Rose and I."
The muscles around the Doctor's eyes tightened as he looked past him. "Rose Tyler? Is she with you?"
A cold chill settled inside him. "If our time streams don't match then it's best we don't—"
"That's only on your end," the Doctor said. "I've seen how things play out. It won't disturb the timeline if you answer my question."
Great. The man had the clear advantage. "This conversation is pointless," he said as he lifted his hand to disconnect the call. "I'll have to go back further."
"No," the Doctor called out. "I was never contacted by you until now. Try and you'll alter the course of events."
He glowered at the man, then slowly lowered his hand. Seemed he had no choice. "Fine. Rose arrived in my reality four days ago. I destroyed her dimension cannon before I knew of its significance. She's stranded and the darkness is closing in."
His doppelganger's expression morphed into concern. "What'd you do that for?"
"It was dangerous. Don't tell me you would just have let her swan off if the same happened to you."
The Doctor tilted his head to the side and considered for a moment. "Fair enough."
"We're in the process of synthesizing trinium," he continued, "but we're out of time. We have enough to get us halfway to your reality. We need you to open the breech on your end. Together I think we can punch through."
"No, the fissures are closing as we speak and I won't risk breaking them open again."
"But … you condemn us all."
The Doctor raised his left brow to an impressive height. "I don't think I am. You said you can get halfway here. That means you could send one person all the way." The man dipped his glasses. "You just don't want to."
He bristled. "Let me cross. I can help."
"I don't need your help," the Doctor said. "Obviously the darkness is gone and we did it without you."
We—as in the two of them, together. The image left a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. "And if I leave her behind and come alone?" He'd never do it, but the threat was the only leverage he had.
"Rose's arrival is integral to our success. You have to let her come back to me."
Right. Send her back to him. Might as well offer a concession speech while he was at it. "I don't have to do anything if you don't need my help," he said in a rush, "and you best stop talking before you cause a paradox."
"No, I'm preventing one. If Rose doesn't get back, the events that stopped the darkness won't happen." His counterpart angled his head downward, his expression grave. "You know I can't say more."
"Then time will be rewritten."
"Not this," The Doctor said as he shook his head. "No, you can't. The fate of everything is at stake. Whatever steps she takes to try and return to me, you mustn't impede. And she must return alone."
The thought of being left behind made his stomach writhe. "I'm just as clever as you, and I can fix this just as well as she can. Let the timelines adjust to one more person."
"It's not about whose more clever. It's about Rose being at the right place and the right time for events to unfold as they were foretold. Change it and everything could be consumed."
"But time is in flux. I can sense it."
"For you perhaps, but I've experienced fixed points—things that can't be undone." The Doctor's voice cracked, a suspicious sheen misting over his eyes.
"I'll find a way," he said through gritted teeth.
"You have no right."
He pounded a fist on the dash. "I have every right. I'm the Time Lord Victorious!"
The man's mouth parted in surprise. His penetrating gaze roamed over him. "What's your name?"
They both knew he wasn't just asking for a title. For a Time Lord, that one word would divulge more about his character than any superfluous dialogue could. He squared his shoulders. "To many, I'm called the destroyer, to others, the black judgment. But I prefer Victor."
He wouldn't have thought it possible for the Doctor's face to grow paler, but it did. "And you've got Rose."
Neither dared to blink as the TARDIS jostled.
"Where is she?" the Doctor asked in a sharp tone. "This is her signal."
"Never mind that. We have to hurry."
"Where—is—she?"
"She'll be nothing and nowhere if you don't act."
The Doctor leaped back and a blue light flickered across the screen.
"Stop that. You'll destabilize the conn—"
Suddenly he stood face to face with a holographic projection of himself. The TARDIS groaned, wires swaying above his head. He could see every bit of stubble, every pore, every imperfection on the man's face. The man's blackened glare shone with a fury only one like himself could truly admire.
The Doctor took a step forward, so close he half-expected to feel the man's breath. "Where is she?"
"Safe."
"She better be," the Doctor said. "And if she isn't returned to me in one piece—"
"You'll what? Glare me to death?"
The ship pitched and the console blared in warning. Power couplings clanged against the time column. Sparks sprayed, hissing and popping in brilliant flares of blue.
"Stop this," he said to man in brown. "You're burning the energy up and we haven't got much time."
"Then listen to me," the Doctor shouted. "Your reality will be reset the moment she leaves. The darkness will never have happened so your fate won't be permanent. And even if it was, your life isn't more important than every life that ever existed."
He curled his lip. "You think this is about self-preservation? I don't fear death."
The Doctor's forehead scrunched up as though he'd just solved a puzzle. "No, you don't, do you? You fear life—a life without her."
He opened his mouth, but shut it again.
Spoken from experience. It was written in the man's frown, the sunken shoulders, the tired expression of one who'd seen too many losses.
The Doctor's voice rounded into softer tones. "Sometimes we have to sacrifice what we want for the good of others."
He shook his head. "I can't do that."
"You would risk everything for your own selfish desires?"
"There is no reward without risk."
The Doctor pinched the bridge of his nose. "Victor—"
"I will fight for her."
"—we both know how this plays out. It will happen. You can't change it without catastrophic repercussions."
Cocky bastard, declaring victory before the battle had even begun. "Help me get across!"
"No."
Crimson crowded his vision. The tendons in his next flexed and he could feel the throb of his pulse—feel the bloodlust boiling to the surface. If he weren't a hologram he'd reach out and strangle the man.
The Doctor tapped at button on his phantom console. "The connection is fading. Don't tell her about this. No one should know too much about their future."
His shoulders heaved with the strain of each breath, the rims of his fingernails cutting into his palms.
"Look," the Doctor said as he took off his glasses, "if you really care about Rose, do what's right for her."
With another jerk of his ship, he was alone.
He slammed the lever downward and the TARDIS began to dematerialize. "No. I will not accept defeat."
He'd bend all of time and space to be with her, tear a thousand realities into nothing if that's what it took. Whatever the cost, he'd pay it.
And so would everyone else.
He snapped the two pieces of the outer shell of the newly minted dimension cannon together and shook it. By his calculations, he had two out of three options remaining. Option one was the simplest, but it seemed his counterpart was less gracious than his title suggested.
That left the next option—going back on his own timeline and starting the synthesis process earlier. Ordinarily, time adjusted to change with ease by resolving paradoxes along the path of least resistance, but if the Doctor was right and all of creation relied on specific actions by Rose and Rose alone, changing even one minute detail could prove much more difficult. He just hoped Rose could look past her 'rules' when the time came because the option three was far more vague.
He twisted the knob at the top. Almost ready. With the old chip from the other dimension hopper installed, it'd be indistinguishable from her other device.
"Whoa."
He jumped as Rose's voice echoed in the low dome behind him.
"You've redecorated," she said as the sound footfall pattered along the ramp.
"Wasn't my doing," he said with feigned nonchalance, "but I suppose that's what I get for having a sentient ship. Never know what she'll get up to next."
"Whatcha got there?"
"This," he said as he turned and held up the flattened disc, "is your new dimension cannon. It can withstand temperatures up to five thousand degrees, it's impervious to crushing, and the interior hull is coated with dwarf star alloy to allow for a charging cycle of approximately twenty-eight minutes. Infinitely better than that mockery you had before. "
"Thanks," she said as she snatched it from him. "That thing was only my life's work."
He tugged on his earlobe. "Yes, well it was very impressive."
"For being created by human, you mean."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." She turned it over and traced the groves of the yellow power cell in the center. "Very 1950s space-age, innit?"
"Had to try out my new tool." He aimed his sonic screwdriver at her face, the tip whirring to life.
She stumbled back. "What on earth are you doing?"
"Scanning you with my new scanner, of course." He raked his tool down her midsection and back up again.
Rose squinted under the onslaught of blue light. "I see that, thanks."
"Did you know I can intercept signals from 2.4 million parsecs away with this thing?"
She nudged his arm to the side. "Whatcha scanning me for?"
"Option three," he muttered too low for her to hear. This woman once had the time vortex swirling inside her; who knew what she really was or what she was capable of. Could her power be harnessed, and would it be enough to get them across?
Rose glared at him.
"All right, fine," he said. "I'm trying to figure what you are, and more specifically, how you walk through everything unscathed, like the time vortex and the battle with 'Thet. And well, dealing with me." He waved a hand between them as if the gesture would help her better comprehend. "It's like you've got some external force protecting your timeline."
"And you think some number on that thing is gonna tell you all that?" She nodded toward his screwdriver. "I know you think I'm some sort of time goddess, but it's got nothing to do with mysterious forces. I don't think about things. I just go out there and do what needs doing."
He raised his brow high enough to rival his parallel counterpart.
"No, really though," she added. "I used to think that I couldn't do anything significant or dangerous, but then the Doctor showed me that sometimes we have to get out of our comfort zone and just do it, 'cause no one else will."
"Bravery wouldn't save you from the vortex, Rose." He turned to the diagnostic panel and plugged in his screwdriver. "You're a complicated event in time and space. There's got to be more to it than that."
Rose peered over his shoulder as the results flashed on screen. "Well what's it say then?"
He sighed. "Normal, all of it—blood pressure, heart rate, biological functions. Everything is within range. It says you're completely human."
"'Cause I am."
"I'm not so sure." He yanked his screwdriver from the input port and tinkered with the settings. "Tell me about that day you became Bad Wolf. What do you remember?"
"Not much. It's like it's locked away from my memories. What's it matter anyhow?"
"Because any normal human would be aged into dust in an instant under the power of the vortex, yet here you stand."
"Blimey."
"My point exactly." With the sonic pressed to his ear, he slowly swiveled the ring around the upper shaft until he heard a click. "You didn't just create an alter ego, Rose. You literally set up the creation of your own existence. You created Bad Wolf; Bad Wolf created Rose Tyler. It's all an impossible paradox." And if they were lucky, a paradox that might just be strong enough to pull of another impossible feat.
Rose crossed her arms along her chest. "Wouldn't I know something like that though? I mean, if I were created by some all-knowing entity? I'm just an average girl who was above average for a short time. I feel completely normal now."
He slapped his screwdriver and the light blinked back on, raking across her leather jacket. "Let me put it another way. You said you've been striding through parallel after parallel. Have you run into yourself in any other reality?"
"Well, no but …" She scratched at her chin. "Huh. Never thought about it before, but you're right. I haven't."
"See? You're dimensionally-centric, exclusive to one reality. Not just anyone is dimensionally-centric. It goes against the laws of quantum multiplicity."
Rose leaned back against the dash and folded her arms. "Where's all this coming from?"
His gaze dropped to his polished shoes. "The compounds, we don't have enough."
"But, I thought you said—"
"Yes, I started particle fusion while you were asleep, even programmed the TARDIS to run the molecular bombardments around the clock, but it won't matter. We'll only have enough for one." He slipped his sonic into his inner breast pocket.
"Bad Wolf can't help us, you know," Rose said softly. "It almost killed me. He regenerated for goodness' sake. I couldn't bear to see that happened to you too."
"I'll be careful, I promise." He stepped toward her. "Just let me look in your mind. There's a chance I could communicate telepathically."
Rose raised her chin in a manner that preemptively ended any further argument. "No, it's too big of a risk, for both of us."
Wonderful. Option three was out, unless …
He turned back to the console. "Forget I mentioned it," he said as he keyed in new coordinates into the spacial location input. "What do you say to a new destination while we wait for those particles?"
"Victor …" The intonation in her voice raised in pitch. "What are you planning? Anything to do with Bad Wolf is bad news, and you promised you wouldn't challenge the laws of time."
He pulled down the time lever. "Funny, I don't actually recall making that promise. That was an assumption on your part." And a rather naive one at that.
Rose reached out and clasped his wrist. "Then promise now." Her voice cut above the noise of the pumping rotor, clear and strong. "Promise me you won't do anything rash."
He stared into her dark, wide eyes. "The only thing I will promise you is that I will do everything in my power to keep you in my life, Rose."
She jerked back her hand as though she'd been shocked. "This isn't just about us, Victor. There's so much more at stake."
It was like listening to the Doctor all over again. "You think I don't know that?" he said with more sharpness than he intended.
"Then why risk it?"
"Rose, you assume I care about everything else and that's a dangerous assumption." He closed the space between them. "I only care about one thing."
The rotor stilled. Rose looked away. "You know, this isn't gonna work if you don't at least try to be a better person."
He rubbed at his eyes and let his arms fall to his sides. "Well, it's not like there's a switch I can just flip."
"I thought you were different."
"I am." He raked his hand through his hair. "Look I'm trying. It's just—"
An alert emanated from the console. Now what? He circled around to the communications panel.
Rose leaned on her hand to get a better view of the monitor. "What is it?"
"Just what we need—solar anomalies galore. Looks like Junnis Clave is about to be hit by a massive solar flare and coronal mass ejection."
"Well," said Rose as she glanced up at him, "now's your chance to care."