TURLOUGH'S TALE
Chapter Three
"What happened!" Tegan is beside herself at the sight of the Doctor's pallor and matted hair.
"I fell," says the Doctor, truthfully, neglecting, of course, to mention that he fell because some idiot thwacked him with a great big stick. Tegan fusses over him and, despite his protestation that he's fine, she gets him to his quarters and, as far as I know, tucks him in. Maybe she reads him a bedtime story. I don't know and I don't care. I'm glad I don't have to answer her questions, at least yet. My head is aflame with all the possibilities, foremost among them that the Black Guardian is going to appear, wrathful and vengeful, and either torture me or kill me outright.
Then it occurs to me that the Doctor shouldn't sleep, as he probably has a concussion. I say nothing. I do nothing.
The Doctor sleeps until noon the next day, about 20 hours. I stay in my room, avoiding Tegan, but I don't sleep a wink in all that time. When I can't stand it anymore, I go to the console room, intending to go outside and stare at the stream a bit, but I don't get as far as the door; we're in motion. The Doctor is there, rushing around the console operating buttons, dials and switches, checking monitors and meters, murmuring wordlessly to himself, looking for all the world, I mean all the universe, like a child making an extravagant sand castle. The rotor is pumping away.
"Where are we going?" I ask. The Doctor holds up a finger for me to wait and continues his frenetic machinations. Then he straightens up and says,
"Earth."
This is his plan? Is he taking me back to school, where I might be bored to death before the Black Guardian can kill me? I should have slit his throat while I could! I am too shocked and angry to speak. Tegan comes into the console room and nods at me, without smiling, then goes to the Doctor, ignoring that finger he holds up to postpone her attentions, and puts her hand on his forehead, then on the back of his head. He tolerates this but winces slightly. "He's fine," I say, controlling my anger. She continues to ignore me.
"Doctor, what happened to you? You have slept for almost a whole day. You never do that!"
"I'm fine," the Doctor smiles.
"You have an egg on your head the size of E-space. Don't tell me you're fine! Tell me what happened!"
"I don't know," says the Doctor, simply. "One minute I was fine, the next thing I knew I was waking up with a pretty big headache and Turlough helping me make it back to the TARDIS."
Tegan looks at me and I nod, maybe more vigorously than necessary, since now I am shocked that the Doctor has lied at all, much less on my behalf. The Doctor's face is a portrait of pure innocence. Tegan seems to buy his story.
"Okay, well I see we're moving. Where are we going, Doctor?"
"Earth."
"Again?"
"Earth ten thousand years in your future."
"Oh, we're still there?" Tegan looks hopeful.
"Well," admits the Doctor, "maybe."
"You mean," asks Tegan, horrified, "we might land on a bit of burnt-out rock?"
"I hope not. I am trying to remember…."
"Remember what, Doctor?" I take a step toward him without knowing why.
The Doctor stops fidgeting with the console and looks, for a moment, like a lost child – a disconcerting image but that moment lasts for about three seconds, after which he is himself and declares, again simply, "I don't know because I can't remember." He adds, "I expect I'll remember when I need to. It usually works out that way."