The Other Doctor

Part 2

Tacitus followed hard on Rory's heels as the pair speed-walked down the corridor.

"We need scabs," Rory was saying. "Therefore, we need patients who are in the later stages of the disease. Which is difficult, as most victims are long dead before reaching that stage. Your son was lucky," he noted as the pair burst into Petrus' room.

"Good to hear," said Tacitus. "But, where is he? I thought he'd be here."

"So did I. Maybe he strolled off to stretch his legs."

"Perhaps, but Celia also agreed to meet us here. Where's she?"

A figure strode by the door. "Galen?" called Rory. The doctor poked his head around the doorframe. "Have you seen Petrus or Celia?" Rory asked.

"No. Petrus isn't in bed?"

"No."

"Well, there's only one way out of the building, and my assistant's been watching it. Nobody's left that way. And a sick man's not going to be climbing out of windows."

"But Petrus isn't here," said Rory.

"Obviously not. So, where'd he go?"

Rory began feeling the bedsheets. His brows furrowed as his fingers closed around something lumpy beneath the linen. "Over here!" he called, flipping back the sheets to reveal a crumpled washcloth. And, on the cloth—

"It's a note," said Rory, indicating the charcoal scratches on the fabric.

"What's it say?" asked Tacitus, leaning closer.

"Just 'the garden'. Which garden is that?"

Silence.

"Tacitus? D'you know which garden Petrus was talking about?"

Tacitus stared blankly into space, but nodded. "Several years ago. My wife and I were at a dinner party. We were having a fine evening; jokes, stories, and food…you know. We were reminiscing and sharing a laugh when…well, she keeled over. Dead. She still had a smile on her face."

"I'm sorry," said Rory.

"It's all right," said Tacitus. "It was her time. We were growing old. I still am. Soon enough, I'll join her."

Rory put a hand on Tacitus' shoulder. "Can you take us there? To the garden?"

Tacitus nodded, ducking through the door. "This way."

"Galen, you ought to come too."

"Why?" asked Galen.

"Not sure," said Rory as the trio headed onto the street. "I just have a feeling, you know?"

"Fine by me," said Galen.

As Tacitus led the way, Galen leaned closer. "What happened to the cure?" he whispered into Rory's ear.

"I told you," said Rory, "it's not a cure. It's a vaccine. Prevents the disease, not cures it. And…it's gone. Don't know how it disappeared, but it did. I can make more once we find Petrus."

"You lost it?" asked Galen.

"Don't lash out. Tacitus gave me enough trouble already."

"I wasn't going to," said Galen. "But, last time I checked, the gods don't often misplace things."

"You're a man of science," said Rory. "You never thought I was a god, did you?"

"Well, I didn't jump to that conclusion," conceded Galen. "But you did know things I never told a soul. Like my father's vision. He said he saw a god, who commanded him to make me into a physician. Was that a delusion? Did you orchestrate that?"

Rory didn't make eye contact. "Galen, it's not my place to shatter faith, either your father's or your own. Does it really matter whether what he saw was the gods' work or not? All that matters is that his vision led you here, shaped your life. Was it for the better?"

"Yes," said Galen. "Definitely for the better."

The trio trudged on in silence for some time. Finally Galen opened his mouth. "Thank you," he whispered. "I see how Tacitus looks at you. He's angry, but there's some grudging admiration in his eyes as well. Whatever doubts you may have about your abilities, I know you're a capable and good man. A very good man, Aesculapius."

The corners of Rory's mouth turned up in a faint smile.

"We're here," interrupted Tacitus, his hand on an ivied gate. "The garden of the Hortensii. Where my wife died. Do you think Petrus'll be here?"

"Let's find out," said Rory.

The gate swung open at Rory's touch, and the three men strode along the stone-paved path into an alcove of flowers.

"He's not here," said Galen. "Not unless he's hiding among the lilacs."

"Let's look around anyway. You never know," said Rory, poking around the bushes.

Tacitus advanced slowly through the garden, approaching a marble bench half-shaded by an olive tree. Something on his face betrayed the depths of his emotion. If Rory had to hazard a guess, he'd say that the bench was the last place Tacitus had seen his wife alive. The old man ran a finger along the stone and then sat gingerly upon a corner.

"Tacitus, don't move," said Rory.

"Why not?" asked Tacitus worriedly.

Rory pointed to the ground near the man's feet. "Whatever you did, it's unlocked something." As they watched, a section of cobblestone silently slid backwards, uncovering a man-sized hole enveloped in darkness.

Rory leaned over the hole. "All right, me first."

"You're going down there?" asked Galen. "Is that a good idea?"

"No," echoed Rory's voice from the depths of the hole.

Galen rolled his eyes. "I'm coming."

"I am as well!" Tacitus hopped off the bench with uncharacteristic agility.

"Watch your step," said Rory. "There's an outcropping."

"Ow!"

"Sorry, Galen. Told you."

"Perhaps a little more advance warning next time," grumbled Galen.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"And perhaps a light?"

"Sure!" said Rory. "Hold on."

Galen failed to see what exactly Rory did, but less than five seconds later a shred of Rory's tunic was wrapped around a stick and glowing orange with flame.

"Come on," said Rory. "The tunnel gets wider up here."

The flickering light bounced off the cave—no, cavern—walls. The ceiling, once brushing Galen's thinning hair, now loomed overhead, far beyond the reach of the torchlight.

"Wow," Rory's sentiment echoed through the chamber. "I'd say we just stumbled on something important."

"I agree," said Galen. "Tacitus, do you happen to know what this place might be?"

Silence.

"Tacitus?" called Rory, spinning around. "You there?"

"He was right behind me," said Galen.

"Oh, this is very, very not good," said Rory. "The note, the tunnel, the theft of the cure…it smells like a trap to me."

"Who'd want to trap us? Why?"

"Well, there are loads of reasons people would want to trap me. I've had more than enough time to make enemies, even inadvertently. But, specifically, no, I don't know why."

"Wait, what's here?" interjected Galen. "Bring the light closer."

Rory obliged.

"Do you see that?" asked Galen. "This is a cave set in bedrock. Smooth walls, right?"

"Very smooth," agreed Rory.

"Too smooth," said Galen. "Too perfect to be natural. This cave was carved. But there aren't any tool marks. The walls seem almost…polished. Almost as if they weren't made by humans."

Rory was quiet.

"I know, that sounds utterly ludicrous."

"No, no," said Rory. "That's the sanest explanation for all this. It's the only explanation. The question is, who? Could be the Silurians. The last time I saw them, quite a few tried to kill me. One of them succeeded. But why would they be active here? No, the motive just doesn't fit. Who else? The fish vampires? The giant eyeball-policey-things?"

"Rory, do you need to sit down?" Galen sounded a bit nervous.

"What?"

"Are you having some sort of fit?"

"Wha-? No, of course not. But I wish the Doctor were here. He'd solve everything."

"I'm a doctor," huffed Galen.

"No, not that sort of doctor. I'm talking about the Doctor. The definite article. But he's not here, of course, and I can't afford to engage in wishful thinking. Think, Rory, think!" Rory began pacing the floor. "Atraxi, no. Prisoner Zero, no. Vampire-fish-y things…definitely not." He stopped and shrugged. "Well, that does it. I'm lost."

"Ah, but we never lose track of you, Rory Williams," said a familiar voice.

Rory swiveled around to find two eyes a foot away from his own.

"Sleep," whispered the voice, and a pair of hands grasped Rory's neck. "Sleep."

As apathetic Tacitus choked the breath from Rory's body, the only thought that ran through the nurse's head was simple: I wish the Doctor were here.

The sheets were warm, the pillows soft. Rory drew them closer to his body, lost in the fetal comfort that made him feel secure. Here, in his own bed, he was safe from the terrors of the outside world, like the horrors of—

He bolted upright.

–last night.

"Tacitus," Rory growled, and grabbed his tunic.

The nurse-turned-soldier was still fumbling with his clothes as he burst into Tacitus' villa. "WHERE'S TACITUS?" he bellowed. A servant put a hand out to stop him, but Rory barreled past into the bedroom.

"What the heck did you do to me?" he yelled. And then he stopped and surveyed the room.

Petrus stood to one side, stone-faced. Celia was equally ashen, and a silent tear ran down her cheek. And, laid on his bed, face paler than his sheets, was Tacitus.

Rory didn't need his extensive medical training to know that Tacitus was on his deathbed.

"Mr. Rory?" Tacitus croaked.

"I don't understand," said Rory. "What happened?"

"I was wondering the same thing."

"The last I remember, you were trying to strangle me," said Rory. "Then I just woke up here."

"Me?" even as weak as Tacitus was, Rory could sense the indignation in his voice. "Why in heaven's name would I do that? I blacked out right after you disappeared down the hole. I don't remember a thing."

Few things were as honest as a man on his deathbed, so Rory let go of his anger and believed him.

"Show me your hands," Rory commanded.

Tacitus obliged.

"Your wrists are swollen. Indicative of a recent strenuous physical exertion. Like throttling. So, you did try to kill me, but you don't remember. And neither do I. Who else was with us? Galen? What did he say?"

"The doctor stopped by earlier," said Celia. "He doesn't remember anything that happened after entering the tunnel."

"And Petrus? What about you?"

"I don't remember a thing."

"All right, then," said Rory. "Four of us have amnesia. What happened that we don't remember? This rings of something sinister. There's a mystery here that needs to be solved."

"A mystery, I regret to say, you must unravel without me," wheezed Tacitus. "We've had many adventures, old man, and I haven't always agreed with you. But you've a good soul, Mr. Rory."

"It's all right, you know," said Rory. "No pain. It's really quite peaceful, like a deep sleep."

Tacitus closed his eyes. "And I'll see my love again."

"Yes, you will," agreed Rory.

"So will you," whispered Tacitus. "Soon enough. But…in quite a different manner, I think."

Rory edged onto the bed and held his hand. It was cool to the touch. He forced a small smile. "Aren't you too young to be moving on?"

Tacitus's mouth twitched into a limp smile at the mention of their old joke. "Deep down, my friend, I think everyone is."

Rory closed the door as he left. If he strained he could just make out the continued whispers of Celia and Petrus and the fading wheezes of their father.

"Paid your respects?" came Galen's voice from the end of the corridor.

Rory nodded.

"So did I. I'm sorry."

Another nod.

"But I have good news," continued Galen. "The child has recovered."

Rory instantly brightened up. "Gallus? He's all right?"

"Quite. But he's asking for his parents. What should I tell him?"

Rory was quiet for some time. "He'll have a caretaker. I promise him that. But…I'd make a terrible father."

"So, what's your plan?"

Fate chose that moment to open the door, and Celia's wet eyes emerged from the bedroom. "I heard what you said," she whispered. "A child that needs a family. And I have a family that needs a child. Gallus will be safe with me, and"—she patted her round belly—"he'll have a sibling soon enough."

And she ducked back into the quiet room and shut the door behind her.

"You know, Rory, I think you'd make an excellent father."

Rory shook his head. "I can't even keep a firm hold on my girlfriend. A child…well, my offspring'd go running off throughout time and space."

"Give it time."

"One last thing," said Rory. "Do you remember how to make the smallpox vaccine?"

Galen nodded. "Crushed scabs, yes."

"OK, good. Inoculate people. The bakers, the children, the midwives. The ordinary people. Save lives."

"I'm a doctor, Rory. That's what I do best."

Deep down, Rory agreed.

Author's Note:

Yipee! Another story done! Sorry I've been so long. I've been marooned on an isolated island with spotty wi-fi and carnivorous gulls (no, really, I'm not kidding.) Thanks to all of you who've been reading my stories! I love reading your comments. So, there's obviously more to come, and this strange amnesia will be explained, I promise. In the meantime, I hope I've given you a small something to stave off the boredom induced by the lack of new Doctor Who episodes!

Allons-y!