The Doctor That Came In From The Cold (2/2)

By ~ Sharma Stancil aka Snow'sLuckCat aka jsl

See Part One for Header, Disclaimer, et. al.

A/N: I began writing this, the story's concluding part, almost a week before
Christmas Day 2009, then saw "The End of Time, Part One," on that day, but
have completed it without having first seen the latter half of that episode
(aka "The End of Time, Part Two") at all.

A/N 2: Many thanks to you for all your wonderful reviews! Weimlady, smalld1171,
converse universe, bluedragon1836, and Aqua Mage, this means you! :) *huggles*

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Well, it's morning.

It's morning.

And I'm stuck.

And I still don't know where that bloody Time Lord of mine is either.

I told him not to go out, but did he listen to me? Does he ever listen to me?

Bloody, blasted, brilliant Doctor!

Hold on a tick...I think I hear slowly approaching sounds.

Footsteps, maybe?

Doctor?

XXXXX

It's morning, all right.

It's morning.

And I'm cold.

I shouldn't be cold though. And I wouldn't be either, if not
for my already being tethered to Nixen the Nitwit. Why in
this planet did George make him leader this time? My back
isn't that bad off. I'm still hitched up and way out here,
aren't I? I'm not safe at home playing the invalid like
Randolph is...even though he really is quite sick.

I cannot fathom the answer to George's last minute move at
all. That ol' elf knows that Nixen only has a nose for foodstuffs,
but does not also possess a brain to lead. Ergo, he should be
led at all times, and NOT be the one doing the leading. Any
other in our group would've make a better leader than him.
Heck, even a non-deer probably would've.

But, here we unlucky seven are, stuck with the eighth wonder
of the Neanderthal age, as he continues to graze by what he,
and only he, had first thought was home: a large, half-buried-
in-the-snow, rectangular blue box, one with a black lantern
affixed to its top.

When will he ever learn? And when will he get through so we
can leave? He's far too heavy for the rest of us to pull or drag;
in fact, we already tried that. He just whined about how we
should stay in one place and that Kris would find us, and then
dug his hooves even deeper into the hilly bank of snowy ice
beneath us. All because we were apparently, supposedly "lost."

...It's times like these I wish Randolph was here with us. But,
he lucked out and got deer flu. So, he's at home, warm and
safe and recovering. Which is where I should be.

Home, recovering from being in the company of Nixen's stupidity
for far too long to be considered healthy, otherwise known as
eighteen long hours...and counting.

Sometimes it sucks to be Kris's new number four flying reindeer,
and that's what I, former co-lead deer, Lancer, currently am.

XXXXX

I do believe it's morning.

...If the sun simultaneously hitting me in the right eye and making
me want to toss my cookies is any accurate indication, that is...

I feel like I have a hangover. Funny thing, that. Time Lords don't
ever get them. At least, I've never had one. Not one that I can
outright remember now anyway, although...there was this one
time...on Referdia...when I...

The past doesn't matter. Only why I now have one matters.

A creaking noise. A door opening, I realize belatedly. Oh, hel-lo...

It's the woman again. The one from before. Unless she's got
a clone, that is.

Did I tell her anything when last we saw each other? Gibberish?
Or did I really let the cat out of the bag and let her have it with
both barrels of untempered truth? From her newly more cautious
ways, I bet it's the latter.

I'm not crazy; just a Time Lord. No need to be frightened. Not yet.
No Oncoming Storm to rain down upon you yet. And there's no
reason that it should appear in the near future either, is there?

"I'm here to check your bandages," she says a bit coolly, upon
initially viewing my conscious awareness.

"Oh, why, thank you very much. Don't think I'll be needing them too
much longer. Been in a healing coma, I have. Not a long one, mind you,
as I still feel a bit 'meh,' but 'meh' is still loads better than I probably
was feeling," I say quickly, letting my gob take on its friendliest tones.

"Oh, did you now? A coma to heal? You sure you weren't just sleeping hard?"

Martha, if that's the girl's real name, and I'm beginning to think it is, is very
placating with her words. Good, she thinks I'm a bit full of rubbish then. Just
the way I like it these days.

What kind of man does she take me to be? A savior, a liar, the village idiot,
a bit of all three? I wonder...

She comes over to me. I try not to squirm under her touch. It's hard though.
I still don't really know what happened. And since when do you need bandages
for a hangover? I think I've been a bit roughed up too though. Because the
bandages come away from my forehead, still sticky with drying blood.

What!?!

"Och! That looks rather messy, m'dear. Looks like your 'healing coma' didn't
work any miracles for ya last night. Eh?"

At her words, I frown. Maybe I'd just passed out then? I could've sworn I'd
entered into the healing process...

Eerily, the image of the silent Ood that I'd seen just after Adelaide...did what
she did...starts to again reflect in my mind and in front of my eyes. Your song
is ending, he'd said, long before even that, when I was still happily traveling
with Donna. Did he mean today, only one day before Christmas Eve? Would
I not even make it until Christmastime this year?

Then, there was Carmen's creepy and very similar riddle of a proclamation,
another verbal harbingerof potential doom. "You be careful, because your
song is ending, sir. It is returning, it is returning through the dark. And then
Doctor... oh, but then...he will knock four times," she'd said all those months ago.

So, did the similarities mean that they were both right? They couldn't simply
both be batty loonies, could they? I'm just not that lucky anymore, am I? Oh,
how I wish I were though...

A soft pat against my forehead brings me from these dour thoughts
and back to the present time and place.

"What are you doing?" I wince as another, more significantly forceful...
or maybe just generous?...pat hits nearly the same place as before.

"Salve for your gash."

"Oh."

The "salve" reeks of something I can't quite discern. And whatever
it is, it's foul. Like, exceedingly foul. And at first it feels like it's burning
my skin off. But, no, it's not doing that. I sense that the skin underneath
the layer of goop is still intact, and is, in fact, not as inflamed as before,
although I now think it has more to do with the Martha goop than me.

Another sobering thought.

I need help to heal.

I used to not need help from anyone...

Hopefully, it's just the temporary way of things though...

"Ow," I say, miffed at the second hardened touch against
my brow that succeeds in breaking my inner struggle.

"Hold still, then. I'm almost done applying the new bandage,"
she scolds, as she lightly rests her hand upon my right shoulder,
to stabilize my squirming.

She must've felt something there too, if only for a split second,
before she abruptly pulls her hand away as if scalded. Had she
heard it? My second heart beating like a hammer against my chest?

Was she scared?

And where is the TARDIS? I can't sense her anywhere near.
It's as if I never parked her in the exact place where we
wound up. Or she wound up someplace else...

Which means...I must have been exploring and then something
happened. I rack my brain...but all the things surrounding my
missing time...how I got my injury...and my journey ending here
(and under the dubious care of these strange people with pointy
ears), are once more shrouded by thick fog and vast curtains of
frozen-white marble.

"I'll...be...back in just one minute, sir. One minute."

She backs her way out of the room, and for some reason, I can't
help but think that she'd done something rather similar since I've
been here, but maybe for a different reason.

She doesn't go far, and, presently, I hear a raised voice filtering
through the walls. Not only hers either, I soon realize. A man's -
her husband's? - has joined the fray. And neither initially sounds
very happy.

Skittering out from underneath the warmth of nearly a half-dozen
different coverlets, even though my legs are still a bit wobbly, I try
to focus on the words and what's being said, rather than my own
residual dull aches.

Stiffly, I approach the now closed - though still unlocked, I notice -
door. So, that settles that then; I was never a captive prisoner,
after all.

This new truth still doesn't give me any clue as to how I'd arrived
here, or, even more importantly, the current, wayward location
of my ship, as yet. But, maybe they know. Maybe they know and
they're not telling me. Maybe they'd already seen her, but had
not known what she really was. Besides her being an object that
was quite incongruous with the overtly rural landscape, that is...

With my left ear now practically glued to the door's wooden paneling,
I listen in further...

XXXXX

"Kristuff James Hamilton Scrooge McKringle, did you know that
"boy" you rescued yesterday seems like he has two hearts and
isn't human at all? He's a Time Lord or something or other. And his
name's The Doctor. That's what he told me late last night, anyway."

I think about lying, for all of one second, but then I notice her body
language. My wife doesn't get angry. But, her current akimbo pose
and pointed look tells me it's not because she's at all incapable of
such a strong negative emotion.

"The two hearts, I knew. I'd thought it was a defect or something.
The other? Not a clue. 'sides, the boy was delirious. His obvious
concussion was the part of him talking to you, and it was speaking
without his cognizance to correctly shift and steer between much
of anything. So, I doubt he's really a Time Lord, if that's whatever
he said he was..."

"Well, after you nodded off, he told me that...wait a minute...
you knew about his two hearts and you didn't see fit to tell
me about them?!"

"It didn't come up in our conversation before bed, did it? Only his physical
well-being did. And I found out when I was getting him changed into dry
clothes, and YOU were busy cleaning. Martha, I honestly thought I was
hearing things...Sounded like you could dance to it though..." I josh,
a small smile gracing my face and aiming in her general direction.

Nothing, not even a grin, in return.

Bad timing for jokes too, I bet.

"You thought you were hearing a dance beat? Well,
unceremoniously finding out that our guest HAS his
own internal samba beat nearly gave me a stroke!"

"Samba? Really? I was thinking they had more of a cha-cha-cha tempo going..."

"Honestly, Kristuff, why do I bother?" comes the exasperated response.

She sighs, her glare softening, then turns back to the counter and the
chicken-and-vegetable broth she'd begun preparing for our guest.

I knew humor would eventually soften her verbal blows.

"Would you have believed me, if I'd told you?" I ask.

The muted harrumph tells me 'no.' It also tells me I am right. She
would've thought me daft, or that I was playing a trick on her.

I tell her as much. "You would've thought me senile or having the
ideas and ideals of a trickster. Am I wrong?"

Another harrumph.

I guess I hit the ball out of the stadium with that statement too.

"But," she protests, to my continued silence, "That's not the point.
You still should have told me. As it was, I probably scared him with
my sudden retreat. I hope this soup will make it better between us..."

I'm barely listening to my wife prattle on about her making apologies
to our mystery tenant anymore, for an idea has struck me. I break
through the stream of my wife's pedantic twittering, with my own
haphazard musing.

"...I bet he could help me find my reindeer. He's not human, if what he
told you is true. So, maybe he has better senses than we do as well."

"You can't be serious. That man was just grievously injured
yesterday. Not to mention thoroughly concussed. He should
not be going anywhere, not for a while yet. Besides, there's
that TARDIS thing that's still out there. And you need to get
everything else ready for tomorrow night too. Don't forget
that. I'm sure those deer of yours will turn up on their own;
they always do..."

"What if they can't? What if they're stuck somewhere?"

"They will. They wouldn't let you down. And in case you forgot, they
can fly. So, they can get away from danger far easier than you, or I,
or probably even this Doctor fellow that we're currently housing."

"It still can't hurt to ask him, can it, Martha?"

"Fine. You never listen to me. Always swanning off. Doing what you
want. Damned be anyone else's feelings or limited capabilities."

Taking this to be grudging assent, I get up from the table and softly
slip from the room and into the hallway, before Martha has an extra
moment to change her mind and bar me from seeing the man until
he's finished recovering.

"Doctor? I want to ask you if..." I start, before fully reopening his door.

Upon viewing the contents of said room, I stop cold and stare around
at its rumpled disorder. Covers are strewn all about the floor and bed.
As are mounds of both bloody and clean bandages. The neat stack of
dried and pressed suit, shirts, tie, coat, and socks is gone from the
cabinet shelf we'd stored them on. And, worst of all, no longer is
a tall, skinny, bandaged man in residence.

"Martha!" I shout, "Martha, he's gone!"

"What do you mean by gone? He has a concussion! How far can he
have gone?" she replies, rushing to my side and viewing the mess
settling within the room.

"You don't suppose he heard us talking, do you?" I ask.

"I...I don't know. When I went in there, he was still in some pain, and
probably as physically weak as a kitten. His voice was stronger though,
not as thin or reedy as before. I just don't know..."

"I better alert the others," I tell her, turning on my heel and getting well
on my way to George and the barn, leaving a shell-shocked Martha Anne
McKringle in my wake.

XXXXX

I wonder if I'll be stuck like this forever.

The Doctor isn't here.

He called me to him once, but I couldn't go.

I'd already gotten stuck in the snow. REAL snow. Which is something
I usually don't mind seeing. Especially since real snow is so rare these
days. But being stuck in place by it? Weeellll, that's wholly different and
not very much fun at all.

My Time Lord doesn't usually call me to him, unless there's a real emergency
or he's been seriously hurt and physically can't make it back on his own.

Oh, Rasilion, he better not be hurt. Or dying somewhere. I knew I should've
not ever let him out of my sight. And I'll have to be extremely hard-pressed
before I do so again...

XXXXX

A new, decidedly non-animal arrival.

It's about damned time!

Only...

It sure doesn't look like Kris. Not unless he dropped a hundred
pounds in weight and picked up about four inches in height all
in one night. Something I consider to be a highly unlikely feat.
Even for the King of Winter Magic.

I wonder if Kris sent him for us then?

The man's hobbling along precariously though, hands stuck
in pockets, like he's unused to the snow. Or maybe it's just
his shoes that are unused to snow. They're white canvas
ones, with rubber soles, yet no real traction, I'd suspect.

Typical.

The one man who can save us isn't even wearing weather-
appropriate gear. And it seems very possibly that I've at last
met Nixen's human counterpart. I never thought such a person
one existed.

As he gets closer, I notice not only is his footwear wrong,
but that his entire outfit is just as odd and misplaced as
well. A pinstriped suit with only a trench coat over it and
a white dress shirt and purple-speckled tie underneath?

Is he crazy?!

At first, I think he's just walking along, but then he
smiles, a grin of "hello there!" that is quickly followed
up by a grimace. He frowns slightly at the buried blue
box, then starts purposely stalking towards us.

And it appears his frown has been replaced by
a look of contemplation...

I look up in acknowledgement as he speaks, though
it looks as though he's talking to the box at first and
not to us. Yep, definitely Nixen in human form. 'Cuz,
up until this moment, only he would've been silly enough
to strike up a conversation with an inanimate box, much
in the way that this person is currently having.

That's it. We're doomed...

XXXXX

Officially, I sense him before I hear him. Which is
a small feat, as usually, it's just the opposite.

The Doctor...He's back.

About bloody time too!

Hang on a tic. His footfalls are haltingly off and echo
throughout my recesses in an inconsistent, clumsy
pattern. With all the running that man does, particularly
in his current incarnation, he shouldn't seem this uneven
and staggered by simple snow.

Something else must be wrong.

I reach out and caress his mind lightly.

Uh-oh.

Dogged determination.

A wavering, flickering time sense.

Exhibiting these traits are what only an unhealthy,
injured, or only just healing Time Lord would do.

His mind itself contains a mess of images, both past
and present, and he doesn't seem to be aware of my
presence at all. Another abnormality.

And then he starts speaking. And my fears are belayed,
somewhat. He sounds loopy, to say the least, but he
knows who I am. So, I suppose that's something...

XXXXX

"Ah! There you are! And looks like you've made
some new furry friends while I was away! And...
Hel-looo! That's some hole you've gone and dug
yourself into, Ol' Girl!"

Apparently, it's snowed somewhat recently, since
it's pretty clear that when I landed, there was no
blockage that I had to dig through. Or else there
would be visible signs of displaced snow, right?

Now, I'm miffed.

There's no way I can get inside with the door
jammed closed as it is, although those furry
animals DO possess antlers. Hmmm..."Martha"
said that I was at the North Pole, which means
I'm on Earth. Which means maybe these aren't
normal deer at all?

North pole equates to flying reindeer. Isn't that
how the old equation goes? Or is that just a myth?
Couldn't hurt to find out, could it? Oh, look, there
are eight of them...AND they ARE just standin'
'round. Let's give these gents something to do,
shall we?

XXXXX

Well, I'm convinced.

This man is even more Nixen than Nixen will ever be.

He's attached the end of our tethers to what has
got to be his weird box. And that box is definitely
no sleigh! It's HUGE!

And you know what's worse?

Nixen is just letting this odd stranger corral us all
into a line of two-by-two.

Who does this skinny joker think he is?

Santa Clause!?!

Newsflash, buddy!

We don't got any presents. Nor a sleigh. Nor
a jolly ol' driver with beard of white and suit
of red and white.

Ergo, we are not your ride.

And yet, only seconds later - far sooner and
easier than I expected - and with a yank and
a half and a tug and a sharp, shouted "YAAAAH!"
from the strange stranger - out pops the blue box.

And then, seconds after that, we're all fully airborne.
So much for going home my own way... *sigh*

XXXXX

"Whoooooooooa! Oooooooo!" I yell to no one in
particular, as we hit the open sky and promptly
get very nearly inverted.

I didn't think this would actually work. I thought
I'd just wind up looking really very silly.

Currently, however, the TARDIS is horizontal and
I'm sitting on her right side, and she's probably not
too happy about either spatial position. To be fair
though, I couldn't have dug her out. That would've
taken HOURS...

...And what's more? We have a unique view of the winter
lands of the north from dozens of feet up in mid-air, while
lagging behind a set of magical furry things.

In fact, it looks like we're going higher still. I grip the
reigns tighter, as we start our ascent. Only to have
everything, including me, turn upside down as we're
tugged and tucked into another unexpected, inverted
loop, only this time we're headed in the opposite direction.

"Woo! Hooo! HOOOOOO! Ha! Ha! Ha! HA!!!" I yell and
laugh jubilantly, as we level out again and speed up.

Oddly, we're higher up now.

Well above the treetops.

And I'm dizzy and punch-drunk with adrenaline.

Well, dizzy also maybe from a slight pressure building up within
my head. I had, after all, ditched the bandage and salve "Martha"
gave me on the way, almost as soon as I was no longer in sight
of the home of Martha and Kris.

A Time Lord needs no help to heal. An old adage, that.

At least, I could repay them for their care, such as it was, by
bringing back their deer to them, for I'm sure that that's where
and with who they belong. Unless, that is, there is a second
group of eight little reindeer out there and who are still waiting
for rescue.

Thinking about that gives me a head-rush, like I've had too
much sugar, even though I've not eaten since the day before.
A hard, malnourished crash is sure to follow.

Thankfully, just up ahead, I see the clearing where the now-familiar
barn and house stand, white and dark brown monoliths pushing up
against the clear blue sky. And out in front scurry two people, Martha
and Kris, no doubt, to greet me with looks of both shock and awe.

Hail, the returning Time Lord! And with big and furry presents too...

XXXXX

As he peers down at us from his blue chariot of wood, grinning
from ear to ear, I wonder about exactly how wrong I've been.
I was thinking him to be a simple crackpot, gone back out in to
the winter weather and northern wilds, for no other reason than
to escape. From what or whom? I do not know.

But, here he was, back again, and with nine additions too.

All by himself, this man has found my deer and saved Christmas.

I am stunned silent.

My wife? Not so much.

"Well, I'll be dipped in dishwater and painted with mud, you
are a miracle worker, aren't you, dear?" she comments, leaving
my side to approach the line and our saving grace.

Her whole demeanor has changed. She too realizes then, that this
is a man...or Time Lord...to be honored, not reviled or questioned.

At last, he nods, ducks his head, and says in response, "They
seemed to know they way all boy themselves, once they got
airborne, that is. I was just along for the ride. And what a ride
they give me!"

He virtually ignores his role in things, but I think he did way
more than he's letting on.

At last, he slides down from his unusual perch. The exhilarated
smile has fallen from his face. An exhausted grimace has taken
up residence instead.

My wife hasn't noticed it yet.

"So, this is the TARDIS then? It's a bit odd and small, isn't it?"

"Oh, you should see the insides. You'd be surprised."

A tiny, wistful smile.

Then, without a real warning, except for his face paling slightly,
his legs buckle and he deflates to the ground. Martha grabs
his arms and is able to control the fall though, and he winds
up sitting, leaning back, against the side of the TARDIS.

"Just gotta rest here for a second. A bit dizzy," he mutely
breathes into the air, puffs forming in front of his lips.

"When's the last time you've had anything to eat, Doctor?"

At the mention of his name, The Doctor glances up. "So, you
believe me then? Time Lord, two hearts, miracle worker, and
all of that?"

My wife nods, genuine. "Yes. Yes, I do."

I nod as well from behind her.

XXXXX

I'd say about three and a half more hours have passed being in
the company of my new friends. Only, I wasn't aware for most of it.

After I'd been helped back inside and had my ship righted by
Kris and Martha, I quickly sucked down five large bowls of their
delicious leek and turkey stew and also had more than my fair
share of hot tea, I had at last been able to trust myself and my
surroundings enough, so that I could sink into the positive aura
of a true healing coma for as long as it took to repair both the
visible and internal damage to my skull.

Which, thankfully, didn't take all that long, relatively speaking.

Upon coming to the surface again, I feel 1000% better. And I
already know, even without looking or physically feeling, no
gaping cut remains on my forehead. Within, my mind is clear
of confusion. And I just bet that a spring will back in my step
as well.

Good.

A knock on my door comes. Feminine. "Come on in, Martha!
I'm awake!" I call.

"Ready for some more stew?" she asks, upon entering.

"No, no, but I think, at last, I'm ready to go. I can hear her
in my mind again and she's calling to me. She's ready."

"Who? Your ship?"

I nod and expect her to leave. She doesn't though, not this time.

"Tell me about her?" she stays instead, sitting on the
edge of the bed that I was just about to get up from.

"Well, she's a living ship, she's bigger on the inside - you'll
see - and she's the last thing that exists of my home planet,
Gallifrey. Besides me, that is..." I start to tell her about
everything, well, the short version of everything.

It all comes tumbling out, anyway. And this time it's not to
thin air or even a companion. This time, it's to Martha, wife
of Father Christmas.

Can I pick 'em or what?

XXXXX

"Weeeelllll, I best be going now - yep, I AM already aware
that I said that before, Ol' Girl - Got an Ood to see about
a possible song ending though, you two."

"A what?" Kris asks.

"An Ood. Tentacle-faced aliens that...erm...ahhhh...long
story. Sorry, gotta dash. Maybe, one day, I'll come back
and tell you the rest though. Good luck tomorrow, you
two. You'll be brilliant!"

With that, I vanish within the recesses I had just shown
them, run to the console, and bring the TARDIS back to
life and us back to being well on our way again.

XXXXXXXXXX

The bright blue box whirs merrily, then fades in and
out, once, twice, thrice, gone. All that's left behind is
the shallow imprint of its outer, squared shape in the
snow, leaving in its wake eight, brown-nosed, flying
deer and two happy, yet flustered, bipeds.

"That Doctor fellow might be a miracle worker, but he
is also completely insane," Martha Kringle states to
her husband once the box, that really WAS bigger-on-
the-inside, has vanished right in front of them from
view and taken its Time Lord with it.

"That, and a bit magnificent! Now, come on and let's
go check up on our deer. I'm sure they've had quite
the adventure as well. And we have a lot of work yet
to be done! After all, we have to actually work harder
and quicker tonight to fully fulfill the Doctor's assessment.
Won't we, boys?"

A chorus of distant mewls answer him happily and
affirmatively from within the nearby barn. George
had led them directly to nice beds of dry hay and
warm blankets and given warm milk to all them...
yes, even Nixen.

Together, Martha and Kris walk the path and enter
the barn, leaving in their wake a silent twilight, a
single imprint, and the soft echo of an ancient and
unique ship gearing up.

And, far above, spins the Doctor and his TARDIS,
once more safely back within the Time Vortex,
and back on the road towards their ultimate
mutual destiny, whatever it was to be and
wherever it was to take them next...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
THE END
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ending Author's Note:
Just in case you all were wondering, this fic is and was
intended to run directly into the beginning of "The End of Time, Part One," thus
making this an in-canon trip, NOT an AU story. So, think of this as a side trip
that Ten simply did not impart to the Ood, upon his arrival on the Oodsphere,
near the start of that episode. I chalk THAT glaring omission up to the after-
effects of his concussion... ;c )

Also? Reviews are totally still wanted, loved, and cherished as well. :)
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