CHAPTER 5: Eternally Yours
"Your… own… granddaughter."
Rory and Amy looked at each other, their mouths open in disbelief. That word, that revelation. Was it true? Amy turned to the Doctor, seeking some form of clarification, but his expression said it all. Dumbfounded shock. Bewilderment.
And somehow, beneath it all, a hint of disappointment.
The woman, Susan, didn't hear the voice - couldn't hear it - over her own screaming. She continued to writhe in pain, struggling desperately against her bonds. An eternal prisoner in eternal torment.
Rory turned to Amy. "Is that... is she really..."
"Whoever she is," said Amy, "we need to get her out of there."
"You'll do no such thing," said the voice, a sharper tone. "The subject needs to continue to attract parallel TARDISes. Her link to the Doctor is the only thing that is preventing time and space from eternal implosion."
"But look at her!" said Amy. "You're hurting her."
"We are doing what is necessary. If you remove her, you remove all hope of maintaining the existence of reality. And we will not accept that."
As if on cue, a distant shuffling drew ever closer as dozens of footsteps ascended the worn rock stairs. Emerging up and out onto the stone platform was a large group - about twenty or thirty men, each looking wildly different to the next. One appeared to be wearing a stovepipe hat and purple silk cravat; next to him, a man outfitted in a plaid safari suit; and to his side, a man in a striped T-shirt and a loose black necktie. One was tall and lean; the next round in the face; the next sporting a big nose and jug ears. Black hair, blonde hair, red hair. Long, short, cropped, bald. Different outfits, different appearances. And all stood passive, each wearing a distant, glazed expression on their faces.
"Stranger," said the voice. "Your earlier statement. There are indeed Doctors from parallel universes. And here they remain."
Then they noticed it: the group's eyes. They were white. No colour. Just pair after pair of plain white eyes that stared soullessly ahead.
"Universes upon universes of infinite possibilities," said the voice, barely bothering to hide its wicked laughter. "Each one has its own version of you, Doctor, yet each one is nothing like you. The variables, the decisions, the things left to pure chance... everything has resulted in a version of you that is totally and completely unique. Completely unique, and completely under my control. Behold, the Doctors of the multiverse!"
As one united front, the group slowly began to move forward towards the four, slowly backing together into a huddle. They weren't given much room to move; Amy looked behind her to see her feet inching uncomfortably closer to the edge of the stone platform, moments away from a sheer drop into distant black and blue. She looked desperately around for an idea, a way forth. She looked towards the Doctor — his expression was still one of stunned wonder.
Susan.
His granddaughter.
"Oy! Doctor!"
Amy called for his attention, firm and sharp. Snapped out of his thoughts, he looked towards her and immediately regained his focus. He appeared determined now, and turned his attention to the oncoming mass. "Such incredible power," he said. "And for what? To use your army of indoctrinated puppets as a means of intimidation?" He raised his voice as he spoke into the air. "You're a cheap sideshow act."
The voice chuckled. "'Indoctrination'. How curious it is that you use that word. Would you like to know where it comes from?"
The Doctor didn't answer.
"It comes from the control of you."
Immediately, the Doctor's body became rigid. His arms became bolt stiff, his back arched tight by an unseen force. Every muscle in his body was stretched taught, immobile, as he clenched his eyes tightly shut. At the same time, a furious stream of white lightning crackled around the array restraining Susan in place. She screamed in unbearable pain.
Through gritted teeth, through a jaw clenched shut, the Doctor managed to speak two muffled words:
"Help... me..."
And he opened his eyes. They were lit with a fiery white light.
Miranda looked at the Doctor, then at Susan. The white light continued to crackle around her confines. The Doctor appeared to be resisting the power surging through him, but despite his best efforts, despite how much he fought it, he began to move jerkily forward, as though controlled by an unseen hand. His eyes, white and glowing with a brilliant light, stared ahead as he slowly, through jagged movements, approached the group of similarly controlled Doctor incarnations.
Miranda turned to Rory and Amy and pointed to Susan, still shackled to the array. "Get her-her out of there. She's being used to control them. Break the link and-and get her out."
"What about you?" said Amy. "What are you going to do?"
Miranda took a deep breath. "What I need to do."
Rory pulled Amy by the shirtsleeve. "Come on," he said, and the two raced towards Susan.
Miranda shifted her feet on the stone surface. Her gaze flicked from one approaching threat — from one Doctor — to the next. She tightened her lips and bent her knees. Preparing. Bracing herself.
It didn't take long. One Doctor took a meaty swing at her head; instinct took over as she quickly, nimbly, arched her back away from its reach, feeling the whoosh of air pass over her face. Like a coiled spring, she snapped back upright and twirled on a heel, sending a powerful foot right into that Doctor's head. The impact was loud, the effect immediate - he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, limp. A second Doctor approached her from the side and made a clumsy punch to her midsection; she deftly intercepted the blow by clenching her hand around the wrist and, tightening her grip, made a swift jarring motion that caused the bones inside to crack as though they were made of brittle clay. The Doctor howled in pain, but his cries turned to a strained gargle by a direct punch to the throat. He dropped to his knees, clenching his neck with his remaining good hand, but to no avail - his windpipe smashed, the Doctor fell face first to the stone surface.
Miranda bobbed on her legs, readying herself for more. She didn't see the three Doctors that approached her from behind, one hooking his arm around her neck in a tight headlock, while the others grabbed an arm each, preventing further movement. She struggled against them, trying to work herself free, but as she did so, she saw the two crumpled bodies on the ground.
She noticed the light.
One of the bodies had started to shine, as though from the inside, with a distinct orange energy that wrapped throughout its entire form. A mist, almost, that seemed to gather in strength and vibrance. The second body began to display similar activity - a strong orange light emanating from the very core of the body and filtering down into wisps that escaped through the extremities — the head and the hands. A very faint hum, high in pitch, resonated throughout each body, and from the first it hit a crescendo - the orange light exploded, a blinding light that cast outwards in vibrant streams. The second body soon followed suit, the combined light so bright that Miranda couldn't help but squint her eyes in reflex. Yet she never looked away. Couldn't look away.
The bodies. They were changing.
As she continued to struggle against her captors, Miranda's heart dropped in her chest. She'd read about this, she realised. She heard the legend. She knew what the Doctor, a native Gallifreyan, was capable of. What, it seemed, he was capable of across every parallel universe. She'd just never witnessed it until now.
Regeneration.
"Amy! Rory! You need-need to hurry!"
Standing at the exposed stone bulb, at the array that held Susan within its tight restraints, they looked for a means to free the woman. It seemed impossible: wires connected to wires in a tangled mess of copper, while Susan's restraints held her in the chair with unreserved force. The restraints pressed against her skin, allowing no room for movement whatsoever. Susan continued to scream; she barely registered the presence of Rory and Amy by her side, and they looked at her with equal amounts of concern and alarm.
"How do we get her out?" said Amy. "There's no switch or lock or anything."
"We make like Venice," said Rory. And he grabbed a handful of copper wiring and gave it a firm pull, disconnecting it from its housing and sending sparks flying out of the exposed mechanism.
Amy reeled back from the sudden shower, and smiled. She followed suit — she leaned over to grip the nearest bundle of wires and pulled back, hard. More sparks exploded forth, and the light emanating from the bulb started to gradually fade. They continued their efforts, pulling and disrupting as much of the mechanism as they could, until the whole array shuddered and spluttered into darkness, and as Susan stopped screaming, the restraints clicked open.
Among the fighting horde, amid the dozens of bodies clamouring to subdue Miranda, the Doctor stopped. He blinked, shook his head. The white glow from his eyes had vanished, and he looked around as though he was using them for the first time. He allowed himself a moment to refocus, then snapped to attention — he rushed over to Rory and Amy and proceeded to help them uncouple Susan from her restraints.
"This thing," he gasped, motioning to the structure. "That voice. Such power. I've never felt anything like it. I was lucky — it only had me for a moment, but it's had them for far longer. Even with this thing disabled, they're still under control. Their minds have been lost too long."
Susan's lungs heaved in desperate breaths as she looked around her, then at Amy and Rory. And the Doctor.
"What... what's happening? Who are you?"
"We're friends," said Amy. "And we're getting you out of here."
Rory and the Doctor gently lifted Susan to her feet, each hoisting an arm over their shoulders and supporting her frail body between them. Ahead, the fighting mass continued its battle against Miranda. She had freed herself from her captors and was in the throes of combat, effortlessly flowing from one opponent to the next, every punch and kick linked together in a constant stream of motion. She didn't stop. She couldn't stop. The throng was relentless, and each time one of its members fell, it wasn't long before the telltale orange energy enveloped it, and exploded outwards in a brilliant display of light as it picked itself up with a brand new face and body. Regeneration after regeneration. An infinite supply of regenerating Doctors.
And all of them against Miranda.
The Doctor looked at her. One woman fighting off a swarm of regenerating foes. She practically glided from one to the next, chaining together move after fluid move. A gap in the combat gave Miranda enough time to see the Doctor beckon Amy forth, and he traded places so that she and Rory supported Susan between them. Miranda jerked her head towards the open hole where the stairs descended into the depths of the stone structure. "Take her!" she shouted. "Go!"
One by one, they slowly made their way down. They disappeared into the blackness, and once she saw they were gone, Miranda stared right at the Doctor, locking her eyes onto his. She fended off an approaching attacker, struggling against his grip as she spoke loudly, firmly. She made sure he heard her words.
"You know what you need-need to do! Now do it!"
The Doctor's his expression said it all. There was no misunderstanding. He held Miranda's gaze for a moment, then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.
"I'll never forget you," he said.
The Doctor began to make his way down the stairs as Miranda turned her full attention back to the fighting horde. As he descended, his eyes never left her. He continued to watch Miranda until the stairs dropped him below the level of the upper platform, down into the stone spiral.
That woman, he thought. That wonderful woman. Destined to fight for eternity.
The Doctor descended the stairs, one by one, then two, three at a time as his pace increased. The tight confines of each opposing wall seemed closer than he remembered. He kept up the pace, rushing down the spiral, when a thick stone block at head height suddenly jutted out from one of the walls, the movement sending a spray of thick dust into the air. The Doctor barely had enough time to react; he ducked down and moved underneath the block's new position, and as he did so, a second larger block moved out from the opposing wall, this one at his feet. He deftly skipped over it, but his brow began to furrow — he wouldn't be leaving without a fight.
"You can't stop us, Doctor," said the voice. Its crackled tone echoed from within the stone itself. "You can't run from fate!"
Faster now, more blocks were pushed into the Doctor's path, and desperately, frantically, he scrambled to avoid them. At chest height, one particularly large block pushed out in such a way that he was forced to shimmy past sideways, his back pressed right against the wall. From left and right, they continued to assault him, continued to impede his progress, but eventually he neared the bottom of the staircase, making a final, dramatic leap over a large stone that pushed out at waist height.
"The burden is on your shoulders! You, and you alone, have condemned existence to death! May you forever wear the consequences..."
The voice practically spat out its final words with palatable distaste.
"...Time Lord."
With an almighty shout, The Doctor vaulted over the block, landing with a clumsy thud into the room where the TARDIS stood, its doors open. He scuttled into the craft; the others were already inside, and he headed straight to the console. Deft fingers danced across a range of buttons and levers, and with a quick flick of a wrist, he set the rotor into motion, its signature wheezing sound indication enough that the TARDIS was on the move.
The Doctor rested his weight on the panel, gathering heaves of breath deep into his lungs, when he realised: save for the TARDIS and his own breathless gasps, the cabin was completely silent. He looked up to see Amy and Rory standing in place, their eyes trained on Susan. They watched her; she was looking at her surroundings in pure fascination.
"This place..." she said. She eyed the time rotor, the six-sided console. "This is... but it can't be..." She turned to Rory and Amy. "Who are you really?"
Amy turned to the Doctor. "What happened to Miranda? You're not going to just leave her there."
The Doctor didn't respond. His silence said it all.
"But why?"
"She made her decision," said the Doctor, his voice perilously close to an angry snap. "She had her reasons. Don't let her sacrifice be undone by petty arguing."
"I'm not arguing, I'm just after an explanation. Like why you get to decide who stays and who goes; that'd be a good place to start. Oh, but an even better place would be that time when I called you granddad, and when you didn't bother to tell us that you actually were a grandfather. Why don't we start there?"
Susan looked up. "Grandfather?" She looked at the Doctor, puzzled. A moment passed, and her eyes gradually widened. Her expression was one of pure astonishment, incredulity. She peered at the Doctor.
"Grandfather? Is it you?"
The Doctor made no effort to answer. He didn't need to. Susan didn't need him to. She could see the answer before her, and her face dawned into wonder.
"Goodness! But why did you... you look so young!"
"A lot has changed," said the Doctor. His voice was monotone; clearly, he was unsure as to how he should be reacting to this woman's presence.
"I should say." Susan continued to stare at the Doctor, but broke her gaze long enough to better take in her surroundings. "Why, this is like no TARDIS I've ever seen!"
"It's no TARDIS you should ever see," he said, busying himself with the console controls. "All this, all of us, me… it's all from a time that you should never have had anything to do with. You being here... it's not how this is supposed to work. You grow up, you move on. You settle into a new life. You don't..."
He thumped the console and shook his head. "You don't get dragged back into it."
Rory put a hand on Susan's shoulder. "How did you come to that place, anyway?"
She looked at him, gave his question considerable thought. "Why, I don't know. It feels like I've always been there, and yet... it feels like I've only been there for the briefest of moments."
Amy stepped closer. "What do you remember that wasn't anything to do with being locked in that chair?"
"Lots of things. I remember my old school teachers. I remember Morphoton, the Aztecs, being shrunk..." She turned to the Doctor. "And I remember you leaving."
"You know I had to," he said.
"You decided to. You didn't have to leave at all." Susan sighed in exasperation. "Do you know how much I missed you, grandfather? How much I yearned to see you again? It's all I could ever think about — that one day you would come back, and the TARDIS doors would open, and things would continue once more. But they didn't. Weeks turned into months, and years, and they didn't. You asked me to believe that was the right decision, but..."
Her voice stumbled, and she began to cry.
The Doctor stood there, impassive. A brief moment passed where he simply watched her tears. "And it's that yearning," he said, "that powerful feeling of hope and need and desire, that was harnessed and used across time and space. You were weak."
"Doctor!" said Amy, aghast. "She's your own flesh and blood."
"You were weak," he said again. He approached Susan slowly, weighed up his reaction. "You put your emotions first. Throughout the years you held onto those hopes and dreams, living for the future but never forgetting the past. You never dared to stop believing. Never dared to stop hoping."
He gradually opened his arms and pulled her body close to his chest. He put his cheek against hers, skin to skin. "You should know better than that." He pulled back so he could address her directly, eyes looking directly into hers.
"You truly are my granddaughter."
There it was. The acknowledgement. Through the tears, Susan smiled. She sniffed. "It's so strange," she said. "To see you this way."
Rory smirked. "What's stranger is to imagine this guy as a grandfather."
"Oh, I've had a bit of work done over the years," said the Doctor. "Don't let the renovations fool you. There's decent mileage here."
Amy shook her head, not buying the Doctor's light-hearted explanation. "All this time," she said. "You never mentioned anything."
The Doctor released his embrace and turned his attention back to the TARDIS console. "Too much to tell. But anyway, the abridged version is standing right there."
Susan looked between Rory and Amy. "And are they... are you my brother and sister?"
Rory burst out with a snort of laughter, and Amy couldn't help but to follow; the nervous energy fed into laughs big and long. "No, no, no, no," said Rory, gasping. "I'm her husband. Rory."
"And I'm Amy." She pointed to the Doctor. "I'm his... we're travel buddies. Strictly."
"You're humans?"
"Last time we checked, yeah."
The Doctor stood away from the array of controls. "They're a good people, Susan. You should know. And right now every single one of them, and their infinite parallel selves, are on the edge of non-existence. Every planet. Every species. Every star system. Every thought that has ever and will ever be conjured will never—"
"The universe is imploding into other universes," said Rory, partially for Susan's benefit. "Stuff's collapsing. Long story."
"The question is, what do we do about it?" said Amy.
"The only thing we can do," said the Doctor. "Move things back to where they belong. Parallel universes are overlapping; it's up to us to de-lap them."
"But how? You said that would take a force of unimaginable power, and I'm not sure your screwdriver's got enough juice for this one."
The Doctor shook his head. A serious air overcame him. "No. Not my screwdriver. A paradox."
The group sensed the sudden change in tone, and waited for him to continue.
"I was wrong," the Doctor said. "Back in that cell. I did say we'd need a force massive enough to move universes. I said we wouldn't find it in there. But wouldn't you know it, it was in there all along. And don't worry about the whole splitting-off-into-another-parallel-universe thing that goes with this sort of territory. Give me two bits of string and a piece of copper wire, and we can work around that little road bump."
Amy's heart skipped a beat. "Wait, rewind a bit. What are you—"
"A paradox. Not just any old paradox, but a paradox of immeasurable scope. One that has seen the stars from end to end. One that has filtered through past, present, and future events. The one thing that has intertwined itself through time so much for so long that its removal would be cataclysmic." He looked at Amy. "It could only ever be one thing."
Amy's eyes went wide. "No..."
"We need to go back," he said. "Back to a time when a foolish old man was preparing to steal a mysterious box. Before the stars were ever tainted by his stupid whims and ideas. We need to go back to that time. And we need to prevent it."
The Doctor turned to the group. "The ultimate paradox. We need to kill my first incarnation."
CHAPTER SIX COMING SOON!