Smog and Faith
Author's Note: Well, Series 3 has come and gone, but 'Reflections' will still continue; I'll probably catch up with the Sci-Fi run of the Series! Anyway, I don't think anyone read 'A Winter's Tale', but looking back over it now that I have seen the finale…boy, parts of the soliloquies just seem to match perfectly! Well, as to the title of this story to 'Gridlock'…I know, I know, but I couldn't think of anything else. So, on with the story, and please read and review!
"The sky is burnt orange with a Citadel enclosed in a mighty glass dome…shining under twin suns…beyond that, the mountains go on forever…slopes of deep red grass capped with snow."
Gallifrey…gone forever. The Doctor could never go back, so why linger on the memory? So he lied to Martha as they landed in New New York, thinking that she would still be impressed by this dazzling city and forget all about her inquiry of his home planet…yet things just went downhill from there. It was as if the sky had caught him in his lie, when they stepped out into the rain in that horrid little alley, but he tried to reassure himself that things were getting better when the rain stopped, though then Martha had caught his remark about having been here before…and correctly guessed that it had been with Rose.
The Doctor had not understood what was the problem with that, really, there was no reason why Martha should have gotten so annoyed by that, should have gone so far as to call this a 'rebound'…then those terrible, parasitic Pharmacists had popped open their stalls like Venus flytraps. A girl had come, drawn to them…he had tried to stop her, tried to stop her from taking that dose of 'Forget' when he needed to know more about this 'Motorway', but she placed that patch on her neck and she gazed up at him, bewilderingly polite, dismissing his query of her parents as she drifted away into the smoke of the smoke. The Doctor glanced after her, disturbed in spite of himself, for even with the pain of all that he had lost, he did not want to forget…why would anyone want to forget?
Martha spoke behind him, uttering some remark about the future of the human race, but then she screamed and he turned around, shocked to see a pair-the man was clutching her, with a gun to her head, while the other woman was pointing another gun at him. The Doctor approached them as they backed away with their hostage, reaching out towards them as the stalls banged shut, he yelled at them to let her go, then he tried to reason with them, he could help them, but even a Time Lord could only stand so much as he became furious. There was a delay as the door had locked behind them, but the Doctor soon had that open in a jiffy and rushed after them, yet he arrived too late as their van took off, hovering and zooming away, as he could only helplessly scream out her name- "MARTHA!"
"What if there's just the Motorway? With cars going round and round, never stopping, forever?"
For the Doctor, it was a nightmare, a familiar one of a whole world, of a great city, ruined by neglect from the powerful and complacency from the people below, not able to see that everything had gone wrong. Now Martha Jones was stuck in the middle of this mess, heading down to the Fast Lane where so many had vanished…Thomas Kincade Brannigan, cross as he was, reproached him, insisting that they were not abandoned, not while they had each other. The Doctor was uncertain, unwilling to trust in that, just as he heard the voices in the distance…upraised in song, now joined by Brannigan and his wife Valerie, uttering the words to an old religious song with so much tenderness for each other. He listened, for the words could not come to him, he listened as he had listened to Mozart not so long ago in another time and place…and it was a marvel in its own way, that all of these people on the Motorway, sealed up in their cars with hardly any access to each other, could still be so in harmony to each other. Helpless as they were, yet when they poured forth all of their sorrow and hope into this song, they gave it a power of its own, uplifted to the closed roof of this smoggy space; the Doctor did not know what to believe in now, but at that moment, he knew that Brannigan was right.
"If you won't take me, I'll go on my own."
He knew it was insane, to jump down from car to car, so much could go wrong…he could miss and fall, he could choke to death, the passengers inside might be killers, but he had to go…for Martha, who he barely knew because he had not given her a chance, because he had been trying to amaze her, because he still couldn't let go of Rose, and because he had lied. The Doctor hated lying…a fib every now and then, fine enough, but a lie to her straight-forward question about Gallifrey…he did not want that to be some of the last words he had ever spoken to her. Well, onward and downward, using his sonic screwdriver to unseal bottom hatches and then roof hatches, through one car and then another…it went on forever, one big blur.
The Doctor rambled his excuses to an eclectic assortment of people, he had expected some strange things in some of these cars, but some of it was a little odd…a man and his interior splattered with white, then another with red, some nudists, and…well, he found himself interrupting some odd acts and dealings, yet he moved right on along, just coming and going. Coming and going, coming and going, the bandana wrapped over his nose and mouth, yet the smog kept slithering into his body, he went faster and faster, but the pace never seemed quick enough, the darkness and fear of time running out for her. At last, the Doctor reached the bottom, run ragged as he sagged against the driver's seat of a spiffy businessman.
"Have you got any water?"
"Never let it be said that I have lost my manners," The businessman remarked, handing over a cone-shaped plastic cup full of water…sweet, cool, refreshing water. The Doctor gulped it all down at once, satiated his thirst, trying to drown out the smog from his system…and then it was back to the trouble at hand, finding a way to reach Martha down below. Yet the businessman wouldn't comply, no way to cheat the automated Motorway, so he went off to glance down the hatch, down and down into the brownish, brackish smog with a roar from its depths…a grating, rousing, rumbling roar.
Unable to see, and yet he had to, so the Doctor made quick work of the car's systems to give better visibility down below…the glaring, bright eyes and snapping claws…the Macara. The remnants of a once powerful, cunning Empire that had once been the scourge of the galaxy as it enslaved humans, now devolved into this parasitical state, sheltered in the depths of the Motorway and feeding off of its gas and inhabitants…oh, how the mighty hath fallen, degraded and deposed, seeking a recourse in bare resources. At least Gallifrey had never degenerated so much into such beasts, even during the Time War, and now that he was the last of the Time Lords…he would not allow himself to embarrass the memory of his people, even if they had not always been perfect.
"Oh, it's like New Times Square in here!" cried the businessman as an old Cat, dressed in black robes and clutching a gun, clambered into the car…none other than Novice Hame, who remarked that time had been less kind to her, probably something she deserved with the 'Flesh' incident of that hospital. Yet forgiveness…she swore to it, telling him that she had been guided and that perhaps now she might redeem herself, but when the Doctor told her that they had to go to the Fast Lane, she insisted otherwise, the old Cat nun just as fierce as ever…and then he was gone.
A teleport…with enough power for one trip only, and why him? How could Novice Hame have known that he would be here, in New New York, but…the Senate. The horror of so many skeletons, seated high above as he stood in the center with the old Cat nun, the sun shining down upon him as he listened to her tale of 'Bliss' and New Earth decimated, with only those in the Motorway…saved from such death, saved to lurk in the smog and threatened by Macra, yet still saved by…the Face of Boe.
The wise, old face gazed out at him from the smoke of his vat…he had protected his nurse, despite her sin, shrouding her in his smoke when 'Bliss' had ravaged everything, and then he had closed off the Undercity and wired himself into the mainframe, giving his life to keep the city alive. The Doctor, crouched beside the vat, had his hand pressed up against the glass…it was cool and moist, the smoke condensing in droplets with the energy given off; this was not the smog of the Motorway or the smoke that had vanished the Forgetful girl, this was a kinder cloud that shaded the worn, wrinkled skin of this strange creature. He was solid, a fact, but the Doctor expected that from such a legend as the Face of Boe was, who had been rumored to have lived for millions of years and yet was still so kind, especially when he had sacrificed so much of himself to New New York. He was confused, uncertain of this creature that stared so adamantly at him, as he slowly stood.
"So you two stayed here…on your own for all of these years."
The Doctor respected Novice Hame then, to have been so loyal for so long and despite what sorrow or pain she might have suffered, and then the Face of Boe made his plea to the Doctor, as he turned to stare at the furrowed face, to save them…and the old creature inhaled, so painfully.
"That friend of mine, he may think of something," Martha murmured, her breath gasping when the air was wasting away.
As Milo and Cheen listened, she told them of the Doctor, what little she could, of the Time Lord that she had just followed, perhaps on little more than a whim after the wonders that she had seen. Martha, now honest with herself as she faced death, confessed that she did not know him, not when there was so much that he never said. Still, even when she had resented his old feelings for another named Rose, yet she knew that he needed her with him and when Cheen insisted that it was hopeless, trusting a complete stranger to save them, Martha defended him.
"You haven't seen the things he can do, honestly, just trust me. Both of you. You've got your faith, you've got your songs and your hymns, and I've got the Doctor."
The Doctor rushed, circuits, wire, flipping switches as the screens flickered, distracted once more with the chance to fully devote himself to this project, just what he needed to fix things, always fixing things-why redeem himself when he could work as hard as ever before, brilliant as he was with computers? Out with the sonic screwdriver, give it a good bang, come to life, old city, let the people go; yet with the lever thrown, it failed…this had been his only chance, it couldn't die like this, not after all of his effort, he had trusted his work and now…Gallifrey had failed, just like this. The Doctor scurried and hurried, trying to figure out what had gone wrong, he wouldn't allow himself to give up even if he couldn't get through…the Face of Boe called his name, but the Doctor did not pay heed to him, absorbed in his task to save all and sundry, he had to succeed…the power surged on then. The Face of Boe had given it one last surge with what remained of his life.
"Don't you die on me, you big old face!" the Doctor called, "You've got to see this!"
He pulled the lever for the open road, the open Motorway…its roof, its sky, split asunder with the glorious sun shining down upon all of those souls, if only he could see it…at least he could be a part of the event, he thought to himself as he transmitted his message to everyone, to Martha-'Drive up.' Oh, but the Doctor could see them rising as he went to the window, gazing out with a smile on his face…he was responsible for this, as he had made new humans here on New Earth, now he had granted them new life and new light with access to the surface and sky, and now Martha Jones was heading straight for him. Yet he had almost forgotten…he turned his face away from the window, looked away from the light, to the cracking vat that housed the Face of Boe, so fragile after all of the effort and power that he had granted to the city of New New York…new life had risen at the sacrifice of an older, wiser life-force…and the vat broke.
A few minutes later, the Doctor heard Martha's voice utter his name and he called her over as he turned to face her, to see how she might react…she realized the solemnity of the scene, not frightened by the Face of Boe, who stared across at her. Nevertheless, the Doctor reassured her and told her that it was all right to approach, speaking to her like a child for he almost felt as old as this other creature…and he told her that the Face of Boe had truly saved her, not him, for he would not claim responsibility for what he hadn't done. He wouldn't lie to her about something as important as this, not anymore…Novice Hame spoke of the Face of Boe dying and the Doctor denied it, a child who would not believe that someone as important as…he did not even know the Face of Boe, and yet he trusted him, felt his pain and his wisdom as well, of a sort even far beyond his own…how could something so old surrender, after all that he had done?
"I have seen so much, perhaps too much," the Face of Boe communicated. "I am the last of my kind…as you are the last of yours, Doctor."
The Doctor stared at him, into those adamant eyes…so piercing, even now, as he felt an odd déjà vu that he could not place, but in any case, he knew what the creature had meant by having seen too much…so many years ago, he would never have believed that he would have seen Gallifrey burn. Martha Jones, so close to him, had surely understood what the Face of Boe meant by 'the last of your kind'…at least she knew the truth now, the truth that could not be denied, so brazen as it was, that he was alone.
"That's why we have to survive," the Doctor told him. "Both of us. Don't go."
"I must, but know this, Time Lord…You Are Not Alone." The Face of Boe so uttered and the eyes closed; he was gone.
Novice Hame cried, but the Doctor barely heard her, staring in disbelief at the still Face…what could he have meant? How could he believe in those words, even with what power they might have…yet there was a power in them, even if he might try to deny them, 'You Are Not Alone' seeped its way into his mind, heart, and soul. He stood and gazed down at the Face of Boe…whatever else, he had been a force for good, and that could not be denied at least.
Soon after, the Doctor and Martha Jones left the Senate, returning once more to that horrid alley, and yet things were truly better now…though when she asked if the Face of Boe had meant for those words to be about her, he could not lie and so told her that it was not so, even though it pained her…so he tried to say that the words did not matter. He turned away, but heard a clank as she pulled up a chair, firmly planted in its seat as she insisted that he tell her everything, just as fierce as a Cat…he might not lie to her anymore, but he could still fib a little, put off the inevitable. Yet the song…high above, they sang in joy, all sorrows forgotten or perhaps remembered still now that they had a chance to fulfill their hopes…it was indeed the city, New New York, and the song had such power, enough to make him confess his own sorrow, that the Face of Boe had to be wrong when he was indeed the last of the Time Lords. So the Doctor pulled up a chair and spoke to her of the war.
"Oh, you should have seen that old planet…the second sun would rise in the south and the mountains would shine. The leaves on the trees were silver…"
Well, that's it for Gridlock! This really took a bit of effort, I'll admit, but I think I captured the mood of it…in a way, it's nice to have some foresight, get more of a perspective with retrospection now that we've seen the whole series.