Chapter Two: By the Statue of Fallen Foes
Rose suppressed a shiver. The forest stretched on and on. In this silent dreamlike world, Rose could almost imagine that this was all her life had ever been. One foot in front of the other, over and over again since time began. She could almost imagine that London, Earth, and all the myriad of worlds she had seen were all delusions, and this motionless everlasting forest was the universe. The forest was getting under her skin and crawling deep inside. She felt an unnatural urge to turn and run, run as fast as she could and escape, but perhaps it was a natural impulse. After all even the Doctor had wanted to run away and leave the mystery unsolved. Unfortunately his earlier self hadn't felt the same. Rose idly wondered how often the Doctor had to rescue himself.
This line of thought brought up another disturbing thought. Somewhere on this planet there was another Doctor, a Doctor who hadn't met her yet. What would he be like? Short, tall, funny, moody, serious? More importantly, would he like her? She shrugged that away as silly, but it still bothered her. If the Doctor had so many lives, so many different personalities, then was there a time when he wouldn't have liked her? When he would have found her annoying or silly, or stupid? Rose's stomach did something that would have made a gymnast proud. She wasn't helped by her certainty that the Doctor, her Doctor, the one in front of her marching purposefully through the fog, had no idea where he was going. Yet up ahead the forest was opening into a clearing, and the fog was thinning ever so slightly. She could see a tower rising up into the fog above, and its great metal gates were open.
They entered the courtyard cautiously. Again Rose couldn't help noticing that there was something vaguely feline about the way Ace moved, something almost inhuman. Her eyes moved swiftly and her body seemed coiled as though to pounce. But there was no one there. The courtyard seemed normal, though Rose had never seen one look this new. They were alone here; it was empty, except for the statue. Ace gasped. There in the center, atop a pedestal stood a short man intricately carved of stone. The detail was incredible, every laugh line, every strand of hair, were all perfectly rendered. While Ace and the Doctor stared up in shock, Rose looked down to read the plaque.
"The Doctor," Rose read. "President-Elect of the High Council of Timelords, Defender of the Laws of Time, the Oncoming Storm, here rendered into Fallen Foe. May such a fate befall all enemies of the Enchantress." Rose looked up with new understanding. "So that's you then. I don't get it why build a statue?"
"A warning, message, celebration…to gloat," The Doctor shrugged. "I'm more interested in who the message was for. You don't see many enemies running around out there," he gestured to the forest.
"There's us," Rose suggested.
"That's a disturbing thought, cause then she'd have known we were coming, and I don't like it when people know I'm coming, especially since I didn't know I was coming." The Doctor ran a hand through his hair. "Something doesn't make sense. Ace," He spun on her. "when did you say you last saw me…him" He nodded up at the statue.
"Don't know, maybe a day."
"A day, 24 hours, 86400 seconds…so in that time, my earlier self disappears into the fog, is beaten by this Enchantress, who feels so good about herself that she builds a statue to commemorate the event."
"Maybe they have fast masons," Rose said.
"And maybe there aren't any masons. Maybe that isn't a statue, maybe it's me."
"What you mean like petra…pentri…"
"Pentrifold Regression, no not like that at all."
"Then what?"
"Magic," the doctor said.
"Oh come on," Rose said.
"Magic is as good a word as any. It has as much meaning as 'science.' They're both just labels, meaningless words we use to categorize and label what can't be labeled," he pulled out his sonic screwdriver and focused it on his other self. "Take telepathy for example," the Doctor continued as he worked. " a central tenant of magic, and a scientifically named phenomena, but do either of them know why it works? Ah," he grinned and put the screwdriver away. "I've isolated the frequency of his brainwave patterns."
"So now what," Rose asked.
"Telepathy," the Doctor closed his eyes. "Contact," he whispered and was still.
Rose glanced from her Doctor up to the statue. "So what's your Doctor like?"
"The Professor? I don't know. He's a lot less open then yours seems to be. Though I'm still not sure how they can be the same."
Rose sighed. "Sorry," she said.
"No I get it. He can't explain because he already will have explained…or something. This always makes my head hurt. At least he's not running around writing notes to himself."
"Eh? Notes to himself."
"That's right. I mean it's a time machine ain't it?"
"Yea but…" Rose trailed off.
"Mind you, the Professor and me are going to talk when this is over. I've got a few questions to put to him."
"Be sure to ask him about regeneration."
"Regeneration?"
"That's right. So Ace, what's with all this 'Professor'?"
"It's a nickname, like Goldilocks."
"Oi, my names Rose."
"Rose? I guess I could call you Lily or I don't know, Petunia."
"I'm not from Harry Potter!"
"Harry what?"
"Harry Potter, skinny little wizard with scar and glasses…" Ace looked blank. "One of the most book series of the 20th century." Ace still looked blank. "What year are you from," Rose asked.
"1987."
"Oh, I guess that explains the jacket." " Rose glance nervously at her Doctor. He was standing so still that he could have been a statue too." "What do you think he's doing then?"
Ace shrugged. "Telepathy," she suggested.
Rose rolled her eyes, but her retort was interrupted by a groan. The Doctor opened his eyes and smiled. "I've reawakened his frozen mind and destabilized the outer petrified shell. The rest is up to me…him."
"You make it sound easy."
"Not really, I feel like I've gone one on one with a Sontaran."
"Now what?"
"Now we watch," he gestured up, where the stone seemed to be cracking. Light peeked out from the cracks. The statue was splintering, crumbling apart, and underneath was a figure of flesh and blood. Pure mental force pushed out destroying the stone from within, until at last there was a blinding flash of light and the last fragments of the statue fell to the ground. The little man swayed slightly, then tumbled off the pedestal into Ace's arms.
"Professor," Ace cried. She sagged a little under his weight, and lowered him gently to the ground. She shook him gently.
"Ace," he said groggily and opened his eyes. He took a deep cleansing breath and smiled. But even as he smiled at Ace, his eyes fixed themselves on his pinstriped future. "What am I doing here," he asked.