Chapter IX: "Doctor Who?"

The Doctor led the group to a very, very, VERY large tree, dead in the center of the forest. Its branches billowed with lush, turquoise-toned leaves into the skies above. Its bark was as black as ebony with dribbles of purple sap running and sticking across it at various points. An enormous hole—in the shape of a doorway—was cut into the tree, which was covered by a curtain of thorny vines. So thick and dark were the vines that shrouded the entrance, that the interior could not be seen, even by the Cheshire Cat's keen, yellow eyes.

"And here we all are, at last!" sighed the Doctor, stopping abruptly. So abruptly, in fact, that Ace nearly bumped into him, and the White Rabbit DID bump into her.

"OI! Watch what you're doin'!"

"S-sorry, it was an accident," apologized the Rabbit.

"I certainly hope you know what you're doing, Doctor," Cheshire grumbled.

"Come, dearest," the King of Hearts whispered, patting his wife's hand gently as he brought her to sit down with him on a half-rotted log nearby. "Let's rest a moment while Time takes care of his business..."

"One, two, three, four...let the blood cover the floor..." crooned the Queen.

The White Rabbit shuddered, which drew a short chuckle from the Cheshire Cat.

"What are we doing here anyway, Professor?" Ace asked the Doctor, who had been inspecting the immense tree before them with acute interest.

"Hm? Oh, I told you already, didn't I? I came to see a friend," he replied, then called out aloud, "Hello, hello! Are there any sentient life forms around here?"

There was a pause, then, the thorny curtain parted. A curious bird, with a large beak and exceptionally large eyes, poked its feathery head out. Its plumage was a dull gray, and its eyes were a dark amber tone. It let out a short squawking sound as it blinked up at the Doctor and exited the tree. As the bird stepped out, its fat, round body became visible, as well as a feathered hand carrying a bamboo cane, but it otherwise bore no other decorations.

"Oh...visitors! How da-da-darling! Hello there!" the bird said. "May I ask who is calling, please?"

"What in the name of Gordon Bennett are you?" Ace asked.

"Silly girl! I happen to be a Do-Do-Dodo bird!"

"...Aren't you supposed to be extinct?"

The bird ignored her, looking back up at the Doctor.

"And you are, de-de-dear sir?"

"Time."

The Dodo's already vastly wide eyes widened even further.

"Oh...oh! De-de-dear me! Sorry about that, Do-Do-Doctor! My master di-di-did say you would be arriving soon...what de-de-delightful timing! I shall announce you at once!"

"Splendid! Did you hear that?" the Doctor grinned. "He'll announce us at once!"

"Oh, no, just you," the Dodo said. "The others of your party are not permitted to di-di-discuss with him."

"With who?" Ace thought to herself. She then froze still in place, with her eyes widening as a voice in her head whispered three words:

With me, child.

"...Professor?"

"Hm?"

"Can...can whatever is here...read minds?"

"More than that," the Doctor replied, as the Dodo reentered the tree.

A shrill beep stung everyone's ears, and the Cheshire Cat pulled up his cloaking device. He growled impatiently.

"Haste makes waste, Time, so they say" he purred, "But, for once, it could be useful. My battery is nearly dead as a dodo..."

"What?!" snapped the Dodo, head poking out from the thorny curtain in horror.

"Oop! No offense. So sorry!"

The Dodo snorted, and turned to the Doctor.

"My master says you may speak with him now, Do-Do-Doctor."

"Thank you," said the Doctor...

The Doctor then moved to a nearby rock, sat down, cool as a cucumber, and fell silent, staring off into space.

Everyone just stared at him.

"...Er...what is he doing?" the White Rabbit asked the Dodo, the latter of whom rolled his eyes, as if the answer was obvious.

"My de-de-dear lad, he's di-di-discussing with my master."

"But...isn't your master...inside the tree?"

"Yes and no."

"I don't get it," Ace piped up.

"Could you all be quiet for a moment?" the Doctor interrupted. "I'm trying to have a conversation with the creature behind that curtain."

The Doctor turned back again.

"Hello again, old friend," he intoned, seemingly into thin air, and then fell silent.

"...Uh...Time?" the Cheshire Cat broke in after a moment. He waved a gloved hand in front of the mesmerized Doctor's face. "My friend...are you talking to yourself now? Hearing voices in your head?"

No reply came. The Doctor seemed in a trance.

"You know, I believe that's a sign of true and pure madness," Cheshire went on. "At least, many say so. Isn't that right, David?" he then asked, turning his head so that he may seemingly address a bush.

The King of Hearts raised an eyebrow.

"We hate to ask, but...who, exactly, is David?"

"Never mind," Cheshire said, airily. With a sigh, Cheshire then reclined on a low branch, removing his gloves and placing them over his lap. He procured a file from his jacket and began to sharpen his claws.

Ace rolled her eyes irritably at the cat-man's antics, and then moved towards the Doctor, crouching beside him.

"Professor?" Ace whispered.

But the Doctor didn't hear her, for he wasn't really there…

Far off, yet right before them, in a space somewhere between the realms of dreams and reality, of tortuous thought and mindless action, the Doctor stood in a cavern. The caves were dimly lit by a series of glass jars, filled with fluttering fireflies, hung from a stalactite-littered ceiling. Bright red and blue mushrooms surrounded him, some as large as himself. A strange, soothing odor filled the air, along with thin, vaporous clouds of multi-colored smoke that shone in every color imaginable that seemed to permeate the cavern. This smog, to the common human nose, unaccustomed to such foreign scents, carried a veiled aroma of rose blossoms, fresh peaches, chocolate-coated strawberries, and sweet vanilla. Shades of ruby reds, golden yellows, ocean blues, grassy greens, sunset oranges, deep violets, and midnight indigo assaulted the Doctor's mental eyes.

Seated against a fungus-and-thorn studded wall, in a throne made of twisting, gnarled, and decidedly dead vines—covered in dry black roses and ghostly white toadstools—was a bizarre figure. The upper portion of this creature was chiefly humanoid, save for its green-blue skin and the three red eyes upon its face, resembling the eyes of an ancient Buddha, with two in their usual place, and one set into the forehead. All three were insectoid, and glowed with a faint, eerie light. The creature was thin and dressed in threadbare clothes. Once, they may have been elegant, regal robes, but age and weather had worn them into tatters. The bottom of this creature was far less familiar in that it resembled the body of a large, green-blue caterpillar, segmented, wrinkled, and translucent. It bore stubby, claw-tipped legs that, presumably, had no function anymore, as it sat, coiled like a snake, in the throne's seat. Strange ripples along its skin and twitches from its legs issued forth every so often. Beside it, on the ground, was an ornate, gem-encrusted hookah pipe, undoubtedly the source of the vivid, technicolor smoke.

The sight was altogether bizarre, frightening, and horrible to see. Yet, to the Doctor, it carried no menace. It was discordant and depraved, yet carried a surreal sort of harmony, all at once.

"Good day, Terrpillac," the Time Lord said, his avatar enveloped in the psychic field, reacting and communicating as he would physically. Particles flashed and buzzed as he spoke, like thoughts flitting between the two in a curious projection of electrical impulses made tangible in this odd realm.

"Greetings," the caterpillar-man said, in a voice that was deep and dark, filled with wisdom, sorrow, and just a touch of dementia. "It has been a while now, hasn't it?"

"Indeed, but let's not be strangers; refer to me by my name."

"I could...for I know it. So, the Doctor, eh? That is what you call yourself, nowadays?"

"Indeed. However, most of the inhabitants here prefer to call me Time."

"Neither title was the one I was referring to, my old comrade. I meant the other."

Silence fell between the two, a lack of sound ever so pronounced considering the instantaneous mental nature of their communication.

"How do you feel?"

Terrpillac paused, taking a deep breath of his hookah.

"Tolerably insane."

"Good. I was just making sure I could still trust you."

"You can't really trust anybody, Time. Your kitten, just outside, would gladly devour you if the situation was extreme enough. Humans, by their natures, tend to be a narrow and treacherous lot, especially towards that which they do not, will not, or cannot understand. You have seen the corruptible nature of your own race many times over your numerous lives. Even I, were it not for this...'treatment,'" he said carefully, indicating the pipe, "Could be dangerous. It is this alone that keeps me lucid...removes the thoughts and voices of all the world—the sounds from of Heaven and Hell itself—from infiltrating my mind, and driving me to bedlam. Were I to allow them passage again, I would become more great and terrible than perhaps even you could ever imagine. The two of us are far more than we seem, even amongst others like us. That is the curse we bear...that, and I smoke too much, as you see," he shrugged, and took another deep drag from the pipe, blowing a ring of purple smoke into the air.

"You were one of the few to come here willingly," the Doctor recalled.

"I stand by my decision; I will not help the Hatter, but I cannot do much for you, either. To me, this is not a prison; it is a sanctum."

"Tell me what I want to know," spoke the Doctor in a tone that was demanding, yet calm.

"Again, I could...but you would probably be happier with what you NEED to know, wouldn't you?"

"Well?"

Terrpillac took another deep breath, his expressionless, bug-like eyes blinking through translucent flesh.

"I think," the caterpillar-man said at length, "That you already know, Doctor."

The Doctor sighed.

"You always gave good advice," he murmered. "I very seldom followed it before, I'll rrreadily admit...but I need it now."

Terrpillac chuckled deeply.

"Lives hang in the balance, Doctor," he said. "The choice you make must be done carefully; never think those around you are immune to the consequences."

"I don't need a lecture!" the Doctor snapped, suddenly. "I have long known the risks, sir, having seen so many lives so pointlessly lost. I've travelled spacetime itself for rrroughly 950 years now, and I will never cease to be amazed by the so-called 'wonders' I would see. I've seen good creatures lose their families, their friends, their minds, their lives...sometimes more than one. I've seen justice executed in the manner of a poorly delivered joke, phenomenal cosmic powers in the hands of the most impotent beings imaginable. I saw the birth of a race of pure-bred killers, the procreation of a cybernetic death squad, warriors forged in hate, and combatants playing with lives like mere pawns in their perverted game, creating deaths and destruction by the millions. I've lost friends...and more than that...myself."

"And?"

"I cannot allow this to go on. I cannot allow the spread of this disease across more than twelve realties and the destruction of all life as we know it. I have to try and stop what I can..."

"...But?"

The Doctor sighed, turning away slightly.

"...But, every time I make a move, I think: 'what am I really doing?' When I sacrifice a white pawn, how different am I from the red?"

He turned back again.

"This game requires careful strrrategy, Terrpillac. I can't afford to lose...but is my battle plan the best? Am I really doing right, or am I just ensuring the spread of more mayhem in the future...specifically, my future? Imagine the weight my decision will carry, and in the end, what choice do I have, old friend?"

Terrpillac paused, took another breath, and blew a brilliant, gold smoke ring into the air; it wrapped around a stalactite like a coiled snake, then disappeared.

"The way I see it," he said, rather morosely, "Your options now are limited to one...the one you already know of, and have set into motion. Think of what you are saying, Doctor: many lives have been lost, and more will end. Everything has its time, everything must fade...every rose must leave for another to bloom."

Terrpillac chuckled wearily, and gazed down at one of his hands.

"...I will, too. I'm dying already. My metamorphosis draws ever nearer...if and when we meet again, I may very well not remember you, a new life begun."

"Perhaps that's the real tragedy: memory. Maybe it is better to forget..."

"If we forget, we cease to be," the caterpillar-man returned. "If you failed to remember all you learned over the past centuries, you would not be who you are...and, really, Doctor...who are you?"

The Doctor sighed, removing his hat and running his hand through his hair.

"I am no longer certain; so many regenerations...so much horror...the universe itself has made me weary, wary, and utterly 'wiped out,' to quote a phrase..."

"If it rains, it pours, and we carry on."

The Doctor nodded, and, abruptly, maniacally, laughed from deep inside his chest.

"Sorry," he then apologized, still chuckling, "But...I think I truly might be mad..."

"You know what Cheshire says. It's very true, and not just here."

There was a pause.

"...Doctor Who?"

"Sorry?"

"You did not answer me earlier. Who are you? Every Doctor has a name; what is yours? Healer? Warrior? Madman? Murderer? Soothsayer? Soldier? Traveler? Genius? Fool? Who?"

The Doctor bit his lip, shook his head, and replaced his hat.

"I'm quite certain that I have no idea," he admitted. "But I know 'what' I am, 'where' I am, and 'when' I am, although not always. However this time I am certain...and I certainly hope I'm doing the rrright thing."

The caterpillar-man sighed dismally.

"I do not understand you, Doctor, any more than you understand yourself. I cannot envy your decisions any more than you envy my mind. But I can offer one thing..."

"What is that?"

"Sympathy. Useless, but eternal."

The Doctor smirked.

"Thank you."

"Return to your companion, and your party; the hour of the Jabberwock dawns now."

"DOCTOR!"

The Doctor blinked rapidly, and looked around, as if dazed.

His eyes caught those of his companion's, and he sighed, as if relieved.

"Oh, Ace...don't do that. The psy-scape is not my most familiar realm here-"

"That's not the problem, Professor!"

"Well, what is?"

"This," interrupted Cheshire, holding up his device. "My battery has less than five minutes left of power; the Cards are likely on the way."

The Queen giggled, causing all heads to turn towards her.

"Five, six, seven, eight...it's too late...yes, it's too late..."