The Possibility of Ways
Dec. 2nd, 2006 02:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teleidoplexTitle: The Possibility of Ways, Chapter 7 -- Zanak Ahoy!
Rating: NC17 (eventually)
Media: Doctor Who (Season 2 AU)
Characters: Nine/Rose
Summary: In an infinite Universe nothing is set and everything is possible, but in choosing an alternate route there are always repercussions.
Spoilers: Doctor Who, New Seasons 1 & 2, Old Season 16
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, but I wouldn't mind ten minutes alone in the TARDIS
Archive: At A Teaspoon and an Open Mind. If you want it, check with me first.
“That’s it. I’m done waiting for you, pokey. We’re landing and you can just catch up when you feel like it,” the Doctor’s tone as it rang down the TARDIS’ corridor was playfully patient, despite his words. Rose finished off a last bite of toast and washed it down with a gulp of tea before hurrying out to join him. She didn’t think he was serious about leaving her, but just in case…
Yawning despite being fully rested – the lack of a diurnal cycle really played havoc with her sleep schedule – Rose entered the console room. She was clad in jeans and a t-shirt and was zipping up her customary hoodie, pink this time. She grabbed onto the railing to steady herself as the TARDIS began its materialization sequence with customary turbulence. Once the shuddering had ceased, Rose released her grip on the railing and followed the Doctor, who was already striding purposefully down the ramp towards the door. She noticed that this time he cautiously poked his head out before fully exiting, probably still embarrassed about getting caught off-guard by Queen Victoria’s troops. She followed him out, eyes widening as she took in the breathtaking beauty of their landing spot.
They were in a vaulted cavern of striated limestone lit from the ground by small clusters of glowing crystalline mushrooms. Above the natural lights the walls exploded into a swirling riot of earthy reds, golds and greens before being consumed again by the deep shadows beyond the lights’ reach. It reminded her of the time she went to Cheddar Caves on a school outing, except this place was entirely devoid of tourists. It was amazing the difference that a complete absence of humanity could make in a place like this. It was silent save for the sound of dripping water and the echo of her and the Doctor’s shuffled steps. Rose’s breath caught in appreciation at the natural splendour, and she could sense the Doctor watching her with an indulgent grin.
“Where are we, then?” she whispered, unwilling to break the stillness, but intensely curious about this beautiful place. She thought she remembered him saying that it was a miserable place and that she wouldn’t like it.
“Zanak,” he replied softly. He had moved close to her so she could hear his low whisper. She held back a shiver as his breath stirred the hair near her ear, “It’s a hollow planet. We’re in the middle levels of the mines.”
“Mines?” she resisted glancing back at him. He was too close for such a look to be comfortable. Instead she gestured at the twisting rock formations around them, “So, this isn’t natural?”
“Nothing about this place is natural,” he bit out. She did turn then, stepping away to put a little more space between them. Her brow furrowed at the sudden anger in his tone.
“Doctor?”
“This place? It’s a…an abattoir for other planets. Like I said, it’s hollow. They have great transmat machines that let them literally teleport around other planets, then they pulverize the other planets, extracting all their mineral resources. Nevermind the lives of the people on those planets or the destruction that’s left in their wake. They’ve killed dozens of worlds, billions of inhabitants, all to fuel one madwoman’s desire to live forever.”
Rose remained silent, taken aback by his quiet rant. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were wide, as if even he hadn’t expected to be overcome by such fury. After a moment’s hesitation, Rose approached him and put her hand on his leather-clad arm.
“Hey. We’re here to take the readings on this key thing, right?” he nodded, hanging on her words as if she could draw him from the dark place he’d momentarily fallen to. “Well, there’s nothing to say we can’t foil their plans. Break their machines, toss that woman down one of her own mine-shafts, whatever. I’m always up for a little world-saving. How about you?”
“No point,” his sigh sounded resigned, “It’s already been…will be done. It’s being done right now. In a few hours the machines will be destroyed and the hollow planet will be filled. No more popping around the Universe for them.” he began walking towards a wide opening that led to an upward sloping corridor. She followed, shoulders slumping slightly.
“Oh. Kinda disappointing that. Feels like we’re being left out of the loop a bit.”
“We can’t interfere,” he cautioned.
“I know, I know. S’just…world saving going on, and we’re not involved. Makes my fingers a bit twitchy. Doesn’t it make yours?”
“Yeah, a bit,” his slight smile told her that she’d managed to chase his anger away, “but if you’re really hard up, we can always find you something to save. Maybe a canary.”
“Don’t think this is canary country down here. Maybe bat country, but definitely not canaries, ” Rose looked around. The corridor had narrowed and there was a track above their heads, with burned out lamps set into the walls. She found herself wistfully thinking of the natural beauty of the glowing mushroom clusters. This entire area seemed long abandoned, despite the presence of the man-made objects. Echoing from side corridors she could hear the distant sounds of industry, “I thought you said this was a mine. Where are all the miners?”
They had come to an open elevator shaft. The Doctor fiddled with his sonic screwdriver near the controls, and they heard a mechanical whir as the lift was activated. She looked askance at the lift when it arrived. It was an open-air basket affair. It didn’t look too sturdy, but as she boarded it she figured it was leaps and bounds better than a rope ladder,
“It’s automated,” he replied as the lift began to move, “all the machinery is run by operators from a central facility aboveground.”
“Must be nice for the owners, saving money like that,” she commented absently, “but I bet they don’t have anything like RECHAR for the displaced workers or the affected communities,” at his incredulous look, she became suddenly defensive, “What? I can’t know anything about the world sometimes? We spend enough time in Cardiff, I feel like an honorary Welshman as it is,” he just raised his eyebrows and shook his head. She took a breath to defend herself again when the lift crested the surface. The Doctor stiffened and spoke before she could launch a further defense.
“I don’t think you need to worry about displaced workers, Rose,” he nodded towards the open area beyond the lift grate, “I think we just found them.”
Rose turned to see that they were in an abandoned-looking warehouse of corrugated tin. Holes in the roof let in dim sunlight, and strewn throughout the large area were broken-down mining carts and other mining paraphernalia. A group of men in boilersuits were gathered around a large and much newer-looking piece of equipment, what Rose assumed to be the automated operations. What concerned Rose more were the four helmeted guards in black and silver that were marshalling near the lift, advanced-looking weaponry pointed directly at her and the Doctor.
“Hello,” the Doctor waved cheerfully.
“Who are you? What were you doing in the mines?” One of the guards demanded.
“Oh, right,” the Doctor fumbled in his coat pocked and pulled out the leather fold that Rose knew contained the psychic paper. She braced herself to playact whatever role he was going to cast her in, “I’m Special Mine Inspector John Smith, and this is my associate Rose Tyler of the National Union of Mineworkers. We’re here to check on mine conditions in preparation for the new golden age.”
“We weren’t informed of any inspection,” said a rather burly-looking man in a rumpled gray boilersuit. He muscled between the guards and carefully inspected the psychic paper. Rose was starting to worry that he’d seen some flaw, but eventually he handed the folder back to the Doctor. Her relief was short-lived, however, as the man fixed her with a baleful glare, “And I never heard of no National Mineworkers Union.”
“National Union of Mineworkers,” replied the Doctor. Rose refrained from rolling her eyes at his need to correct minutiae, “the NMU is a corrupt organization only out to steal your dues. The NUM works for miner benefits and interests—”
“Foreman Ozlack,” the head guard interrupted, removing his helmet to reveal a hard-faced man with the look of career military, “there’s no other access to the mines, and we haven’t let anyone down this way. These are obviously Mentiads like the ones my men encountered earlier. They’re controlling our minds to make us think they’re inspectors.”
Rose saw the Doctor opening his mouth to protest, when the foreman rounded on the guard and did it for him.
“Nonsense, Sergeant Greig. This man has authorization from Mr. Fibuli himself. Unless you’re going to tell me that the Mentiads can falsify documents now, too.”
“But…” the guard began to protest.
“Enough. I’ve orders to increase our mining to full capacity, but with the slurry output pump blocked, we’re down to 30% of capacity. That’s probably why the Inspector has been sent here,” he shot Rose a suspicious look and muttered under his breath, “though I don’t know about the other one.”
“Quite right,” said the Doctor, taking his cue from the unwitting foreman, “And now that I know the trouble, Sergeant Greig can just pop us up to the Bridge to make our report to Mr. Fibuli. Don’t worry,” he assured the foreman, who had started to look nervous, “I’ll be sure to stress that the blockage isn’t your fault, and that you’re doing everything in your power to fix it. Shall we go?” He started to lead Rose forward, but Sergeant Grieg’s words stopped him.
“She stays here.”
“What?”
“Your associate. She stays here. You may have papers,” the guard’s face still showed his doubts over the document’s authenticity, “but she doesn’t. Unauthorized people are not allowed on the Bridge, especially with the current Mentiad threat.”
The Doctor opened his mouth to argue, then apparently thought better of it, “If I could just have a word with my associate?” He led Rose to one side before the guard could reply.
“Doctor, don’t you dare leave me…”
“Now, look Rose,” he leaned close so they couldn’t be overheard, “This is fantastic. Best chance we have to get on the Bridge where the key is. It’s a madhouse up there right now, too much potential for…well…let’s just say it’ll be a lot easier to avoid trouble if it’s just me. You’ll be safe down here. No planet-saving on the agenda for you today. Just cool your heels and keep out of the miners’ way. I’ll be back in no time.”
“Cool my heels?” she hissed. Sometimes she was overcome by the urge to smack him one, “Is that what I’m supposed to do?”
“Or, you could always unionize them, honorary Welshman that you are,” he grinned at her, “The NUW needs all the support it can get.” She started to voice a further protest, but he was already walking towards the guard, all smiles and cheer.
“Well, what are you waiting for Sergeant. The next Golden Age of Prosperity won’t come by itself.”
Rose glared at the Doctor’s retreating back as he and the guard left. Sometimes she just…. She sighed and her shoulders slumped. He was probably right. As much as she hated being left behind, what they were doing was far too important and far too dangerous for her to make a fuss. She knew the Doctor well enough to know that he wouldn’t leave her behind unless he thought it was necessary – well, that or to keep her safe, but she rather got the idea that it was the former this time.
Bucking up a little with that thought, she turned her attention to the miners. Most of them were sitting off to one side. Obviously whatever measures they had attempted to clear the pump blockage had failed, and they were now in a hurry-up-and-wait pattern until some new measure could be tried. Squaring her shoulders and pasting a bright smile on her face, Rose headed over to them.
“So,” she began nonchalantly as they looked up at her approach, “ever heard the phrase ‘Workers of the World, Unite’?”
*************************
The Doctor regaled Sergeant Grieg with the technical details of the mining processes of a dozen civilizations as the air skiff took them to the Bridge. He focused particularly on the kinds of environmental damage caused by various forms of mining, and the low cost/benefit ratio once factors like quality of life were taken into account. He thought he had done quite well at boring Grieg into letting his guard down, but as they were getting out of the skiff, the Sergeant turned to him with renewed suspicion.
“Wait a moment. Mountaintop removal? What’s that?” he said in response to the Doctor’s most recent topic, “There’s no such thing. All mining on Zanak is subsurface.”
“Really? Is it?” The Doctor began edging towards a nearby door. Grieg was rounding the nose of the skiff, stalking towards him, “Are you sure? No pesky mountaintops getting in the way of somebody’s lovely view? Well, my mistake.” He lunged for the door, yanking it open to find a small maintenance closet. Behind him, Grieg laughed. The Doctor turned to face the guard.
“You won’t find any escape that way, Mentiad traitor. You’re trapped.”
“Oh, it isn’t for me,” the Doctor said nonchalantly, folding his arms. He saw Grieg’s muscles tense. The guard charged and The Doctor nimbly stepped to one side. Grieg’s momentum sent him crashing into the closet, arms wheeling. The Doctor quickly slammed the door closed, whipping out his sonic screwdriver to seal the closet shut.
“It’s for you,” he finished. It really was like shooting fish in a barrel, just as he remembered. He took an amused satisfaction from the muffled pounding and shouting coming from the closet. Pocketing his screwdriver, he jogged down an empty corridor, searching for the engine room, and the service lift that would lead him to Queen Xanxia’s stasis chamber.
It took a wrong turn or two, but he eventually found his way to the narrow hatch. Climbing in, he used the sonic screwdriver to pop the electronic lock that blocked the lift from going to Xanxia’s chambers unless called. The tiny cubicle lurched as it rose and he braced himself against the smooth metal walls. The timing on this next bit would be tricky, he knew. Leave it just a few minutes late and he didn’t want to contemplate the potential for disaster. When it stopped, he put his ear to the door and listened. The room on the other side was quiet, causing him to breathe a sigh of relief. He was just about to open the hatch when he heard voices, footsteps approaching. He only had time to squeeze himself into the furthest corner when the hatch opened and he found himself staring at a man with wild blue eyes, a mop of curly hair, and (he cursed Rose for being right) a rather ridiculously long scarf. His Fourth iteration. Himself.
*********************
Rose was appalled at the circumstances her conversation with the miners had revealed.
“Wait a moment,” she halted the latest miner, a skinny, bright-eyed boy about her age, midway through his list of grievances, “Narell, what you’re telling me is that you’re all basically slaves. You don’t get paid or nothing? None of you?”
“No, miss,” he replied. She thought he might be trying to wheedle some pity out of her, but the nodding of the other miners verified his claim.
“But then, why do you do it?” she had given up any pretense of being from this place or knowing its ways. Foreman Ozlack was otherwise occupied with the machinery, and none of the loitering miners seemed to care about her obvious ignorance. All of them were eager to bend the sympathetic ear of a pretty girl, “I mean, if the conditions are as strenuous and dangerous as you say, why do it? There’s only a few guards, and they don’t seem to be watching you lot too closely.”
“You don’t understand the way of it, miss,” one of the older miners – she wanted to say his name was Pisser, but she was pretty sure she must have misheard it – cut in. Narell looked put out that the old man had diverted her attention, “Zanak’s rich. The whole planet is littered with precious stones. We’re bowing under the weight of our own prosperity. The Golden Ages of Prosperity just keep coming and coming. Nobody needs to work, so nobody does. But the Captain needs operators and mechanics, and miners sometimes for when the machines break down. And there’s always people who disagree with the Captain’s policies.”
“Or have family members who did,” cut in another miner.
“Or have family members who were taken by the Mentiads,” muttered another.
“And so, there you go,” Pisser concluded, “Technically we’re all volunteers, but only because it beats being shot by the Captain’s guards.”
“That’s why this Union thing you’re talking about, it doesn’t sound possible,” Narell said softly, wistfully, “It’s a nice dream and all, but we’d be killed for sure. Captain’s got no reason to listen to us. We got no power, united or not.”
“So you’re not workers. You’re like, whatsit…indentured prisoners or something?” Rose clarified, still appalled, “What about the Foreman? Is he…”
“Naw,” said Pisser, “he’s the Captain’s man. But he’s a good Foreman. I’ve worked at other mines in other places where the Foremen weren’t nearly so careful of the men or sympathetic to our situation.”
Rose was about to ask more questions when Foreman Ozlack appeared at her side. Despite Pisser’s assurances that he was a conscientious boss, she couldn’t help glaring at him just a little.
“Alright, men. We just got the all-clear on this lode. Looks like it’s mined-out, but we’ve also been informed there’s a new Golden Age of Prosperity on its way. We’ll need to clear the pump, and it looks like there’s no hope for doing it remotely. Time to stop flirting with the young lady and get to work. You,” he pointed at Pisser, “take the lads down the tunnel and see what you can do from that end. You, boy, what’s your name?”
Rose’s new friend’s eyes widened at being singled out and his adam’s apple bobbed, “Narell,” he croaked.
“Right,” said the Foreman, looking the boy up and down, “You look skinny enough. Ever been down a well before?” Ozlack didn’t seem too perturbed when Narell shook his head, “Well, no matter. Might do, might do. Come with me.”
The Foreman walked away towards the automated equipment, Narell trailing in his wake. Rose saw several of the miners giving Narell pitying looks, and Pisser looked downright…well…pissed.
“What’s going on? Where are you blokes going?” Rose asked as the other miners began gathering their gear and moving away.
“Down into the Hollow, Miss. Didn’t you hear the Foreman? New Golden Age is coming, and the Hollow’s gonna fill up again. We need to clear the pump before that happens or we’ll fall further behind on our output.”
“So, it’s safe, then?” Rose pressed.
“Safe as houses, Miss. Long as we’re out of there before the Hollow fills. But that’ll be days yet.”
“Days?” she was confused. She was certain the Doctor had said—
“Sorry, miss. Best be getting to work,” Pisser set his cap more firmly on his head and began herding the miners to the lift. Rose hurried after him.
“Wait? What about Narell? Why isn’t he going with you?”
Pisser paused to let the other miners pile onto the lift, glancing over to make sure Foreman Ozlack was otherwise occupied, “He’s going to be lowered down the well to check the intervals of the casing column and see if he can clear the slurry blockage from inside.”
“But, he’ll be safe, right?” Rose pressed.
“Should do, miss. Narell’s skinny enough he won’t get stuck, and the chances of the column bursting and drowning him aren’t too high.”
“Not too high? What does that mean?” but Pissel had boarded the lift and it was lowering into the darkness of the shaft below. He looked up at her and tugged his cap as he disappeared from sight.
Incensed, Rose turned and stalked towards the Foreman. She saw that Narell had already been fitted with a harness and was standing on the lip of what she assumed was the well. The space between the casing and the rock wall looked pretty narrow to her, and she wondered if even Narell’s thin frame would be able to fit. She opened her mouth, intending to make as much of a stink as she needed to in order to stop the Foreman from sending Narell down, but the boy looked at her with a grimly steady gaze and her protest died on her lips.
“It’s alright, Miss. It’s my job. Just give us a kiss for luck.”
But it’s not, she wanted to shout, It’s not your job. You’re being forced to do this. You’re not even getting paid! Instead she leaned forward and gave him a quick buss on the cheek. His bright smile was the last thing to fade from view as he was lowered into the darkness of the well.
Rose waited anxiously as the minutes ticked by. Foreman Ozlack glared at her a few times, but seemed resigned to her presence. Nails drumming nervously on the railing around the platform, Rose eventually broke the silence with a question that had been niggling at the back of her brain.
“Foreman, one of the miners told me they were safe in the Hollow as long as they got out before it filled again.”
“That’s right miss. Right now’s the only time it’s safe to go in the Hollow.”
“But he said it would be safe for a few days. How do you know when this…Golden Age thing is supposed to arrive? How can you make sure the miners are out in time.”
“We get a call from the Bridge,” he seemed to relax, seemed willing to indulge her questions even though they marked her as an outsider, “The Captain’s scientists always know when the omens are going to come. They warn us and we make sure everyone’s out.”
“But you haven’t received any warning about it happening today?” Now Rose knew something was wrong. She clearly recalled the Doctor telling her as they exited the TARDIS that in a few hours the transmat engines would be destroyed and the hollow planet filled.
“No, Miss. We just finished mining the previous bounty. We’ll have a few days before it refills, I’m sure of it.”
He might be, but Rose wasn’t. She dithered for a moment over what to do. On the one hand, if she warned the Foreman she would be using knowledge of the future. The Doctor would throw a fit if she did something to muck up the timeline. On the other hand, she couldn’t just let those men die, and it wasn’t like she was crossing her own timeline, like with her dad. She didn’t think saving the miners would mess anything up.
Reaching a decision, Rose turned to Ozlack and fixed him with her most deadly serious gaze, “Foreman. Something’s going to go wrong. The Hollow is going to be filled sooner than you think, like in the next hour. You’ve got to get your men out of there, or they’ll all die.”
******************************
Temporal quantum physics in action was a rather disconcerting thing to experience, even if one was a Time Lord and had some familiarity with the phenomenon. The Doctor raised a finger to his lips to warn his Fourth self not to react or call attention to him, at the same moment he recalled being his Fourth self, opening the service lift hatchway to see a future regeneration of himself hidden inside and raising a finger to his lips. The memories, which had only been potential until the moment of occurrence brought them into actuality, assaulted him with a peculiar double-vision. He blinked against the disorientation.
Luckily, whatever else he may have been in his many regenerations, he’d never been slow-witted. The look of surprise that flashed over his Fourth self’s features was gone as quickly as it arrived. The hatch closed and the Doctor heard footsteps as his Fourth self herded the lad Kimus away from the door. He heard K-9 enter and recollected that this was when he had…or rather would…or rather was cannily turning Kimus so that the boy’s back was to the hatch. Not much time, he recalled. He quietly opened the hatch, slipping out of the service lift and into the shadows of the time-dampeners that served to keep Queen Xanxia’s old body suspended in the last moments of her life, just as his Fourth self shoed Kimus and K-9 onto the service lift and away. He knew it was probable that the robot dog had seen or sensed him, but K-9 had been developed to travel with a Time Lord. He would know better than to mention the anomaly of two Masters in one place and time.
The Doctor waited until his Fourth self exited the room to confront Xanxia with the cellular projection device that she was using to create her new body, then emerged from the shadows, sighing in relief. That had been too close, too great a risk. If it weren’t for the nearby presence of a portion of the Key, and the associated temporal dampening field, it might have been much worse. He took several deep breaths as he assimilated the new memories of the confusion and anger his Fourth incarnation had felt at seeing himself. Then he chuckled ruefully at the gratitude both he and his Fourth self felt that Romana hadn’t been present for that particular kerfuffle.
Recalling the matter at hand, he let himself into the Captain’s trophy hall. Lining the walls along either side of the hall were clear display cases. Each one was labeled – Granados, Bandraginus V, Lowiteliom, Calufrax, and so on. In each case hung a shining sphere. They looked ordinary enough, even plain considering the elegance of the display, but the Doctor knew that each sphere represented a planet destroyed, the death of billions of souls. He felt his previous fury returning. A masterpiece of gravitic geometry, he’d once called it, and so it was. Balancing the condensed mass of the planets against each other so that their gravitic pulls were cancelled out was a work of genius that he didn’t think even he could equal. But then, he would never turn his genius to genocide.
But hadn’t he?
That thought stopped him. His fury dissipated into the despair that always loomed like a shadow in his mind. He bowed his head, resting it against the case housing Calufrax, the ‘planet’ that Zanak had just finished mining, but in reality the segment to the key that he’d come to take readings on. He looked down the row of cases, each of them a planet. Each of them destroyed like Gallifrey. He thought of his Fourth self, taking the Captain to task in this very room, less than a half-hour ago relatively speaking, for so much wanton destruction. Only later had he discovered that the Captain’s plan was to use the gravitic mass of the planets to destroy Queen Xanxia, to end her reign and her life once and for all. Now he was left wondering if there was any difference between what the Captain had done in his attempt to end Xanxia, and what he himself had done to end the Daleks and the Time War.
He shook his head. He didn’t have time for these thoughts. Fishing out his sonic screwdriver he began taking the readings he would need. Unfortunately, the process was easier than he’d indicated to Rose on Ribos, leaving his sometimes too-active mind to gnaw over his troubled thoughts.
‘It’s different, but it’s only by degrees, innit?…What makes what I did right and what Harriet Jones did wrong?’ Rose’s words echoed in his mind. He had dismissed her worries before, but now he wondered if her question was wiser than he’d given her credit for. If the real reason he’d waved her question off was because it hit too close to home. He wasn’t perfect. He knew he made mistakes. He prided himself on never making the same mistake twice, but he knew that this was only possible because of the deep introspection he put into all his actions. He might make a mistake, out of anger or fear, but he was good at recognizing it almost immediately. When fate offered him second chances, he tried to be wise enough to take them…even if that wisdom did sometimes look like cowardice from the outside. He knew better, and that was what mattered.
He should have taken Rose’s question more seriously. He should have talked to her about what had happened on Satellite Five, rather than just giving her the bare details and shunting her off before she asked anything too uncomfortable, or remembered details he knew he would never reveal. He wondered if she had nightmares about atomizing the Dalek fleet. It didn’t matter if she didn’t remember doing it. Sometimes, he knew, not remembering was worse. The imagination could supply horrific images in a way that actual experience had no way of competing against. His involvement in Gallifrey’s destruction had been a distant, remote thing. The imagined screams that often haunted him seemed worse than any real memories could have been.
“Rose,” he whispered. His free hand reached for hers out of habit, but closed on empty air. His fingers clenched tightly, nails biting into his palms. He wished she were here at his side, despite the danger and the difficulty they would have had in navigating the Bridge together. Despite the mess that would have resulted if she’d been in the lift with him. He was glad she was safe with the miners, but he wished she were with him so he could touch her, hold her, anchor himself to reality through her. He sometimes worried how dependant he had come to be on her. It seemed to him that if he went too long without physically reassuring himself of her presence that he went a little mad.
Before Satellite Five, before he’d kissed her, it had been easy to convince himself that his need was platonic. Before New Earth, he was sure that she had convinced herself similarly. The few days after New Earth had been hellish for him, not knowing how to return them to the uncharged friendship of before, not daring to touch her for fear that it would lead to something more.
There were a multitude of reasons why he could never go there, shouldn’t ever think about going there, from ancient Gallifreyan custom to more clearly defined Time Lord restrictions to his own personal code of honor. Searching for the Key was more than just a solution to their long-term problem, more than just a way to save the Universe. It was a welcome distraction from the more confusing morass of unspoken emotions and desires that lay between them. He knew he should try harder to push her away, for both their sakes, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her hand.
A slight change in the whine of the sonic screwdriver, so insignificant that most people wouldn’t sense it, brought him out of his musings. He concentrated on the instrument, checking to make sure the reading was as complete as it could be. It was.
Right. Time to stop moping about Rose and Gallifrey and get a move on. He repocketed the sonic screwdriver and made his way back to the service lift. His Fourth self and Romana should be on their way back to the TARDIS to stall the Captain and Xanxia from moving Zanak. Hopefully, he could get back to the mines before the planetary transmat was engaged. He recalled that the entire planet had quaked terribly during the failed transmatting. Even the TARDIS had been damaged. Hopefully he could get himself and Rose out of there before that happened, but whatever the case, he didn’t want to leave Rose alone during the violent tremors that were about to come.
Rassilon, he was glad she was safe with the miners.
Rating: NC17 (eventually)
Media: Doctor Who (Season 2 AU)
Characters: Nine/Rose
Summary: In an infinite Universe nothing is set and everything is possible, but in choosing an alternate route there are always repercussions.
Spoilers: Doctor Who, New Seasons 1 & 2, Old Season 16
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, but I wouldn't mind ten minutes alone in the TARDIS
Archive: At A Teaspoon and an Open Mind. If you want it, check with me first.
“That’s it. I’m done waiting for you, pokey. We’re landing and you can just catch up when you feel like it,” the Doctor’s tone as it rang down the TARDIS’ corridor was playfully patient, despite his words. Rose finished off a last bite of toast and washed it down with a gulp of tea before hurrying out to join him. She didn’t think he was serious about leaving her, but just in case…
Yawning despite being fully rested – the lack of a diurnal cycle really played havoc with her sleep schedule – Rose entered the console room. She was clad in jeans and a t-shirt and was zipping up her customary hoodie, pink this time. She grabbed onto the railing to steady herself as the TARDIS began its materialization sequence with customary turbulence. Once the shuddering had ceased, Rose released her grip on the railing and followed the Doctor, who was already striding purposefully down the ramp towards the door. She noticed that this time he cautiously poked his head out before fully exiting, probably still embarrassed about getting caught off-guard by Queen Victoria’s troops. She followed him out, eyes widening as she took in the breathtaking beauty of their landing spot.
They were in a vaulted cavern of striated limestone lit from the ground by small clusters of glowing crystalline mushrooms. Above the natural lights the walls exploded into a swirling riot of earthy reds, golds and greens before being consumed again by the deep shadows beyond the lights’ reach. It reminded her of the time she went to Cheddar Caves on a school outing, except this place was entirely devoid of tourists. It was amazing the difference that a complete absence of humanity could make in a place like this. It was silent save for the sound of dripping water and the echo of her and the Doctor’s shuffled steps. Rose’s breath caught in appreciation at the natural splendour, and she could sense the Doctor watching her with an indulgent grin.
“Where are we, then?” she whispered, unwilling to break the stillness, but intensely curious about this beautiful place. She thought she remembered him saying that it was a miserable place and that she wouldn’t like it.
“Zanak,” he replied softly. He had moved close to her so she could hear his low whisper. She held back a shiver as his breath stirred the hair near her ear, “It’s a hollow planet. We’re in the middle levels of the mines.”
“Mines?” she resisted glancing back at him. He was too close for such a look to be comfortable. Instead she gestured at the twisting rock formations around them, “So, this isn’t natural?”
“Nothing about this place is natural,” he bit out. She did turn then, stepping away to put a little more space between them. Her brow furrowed at the sudden anger in his tone.
“Doctor?”
“This place? It’s a…an abattoir for other planets. Like I said, it’s hollow. They have great transmat machines that let them literally teleport around other planets, then they pulverize the other planets, extracting all their mineral resources. Nevermind the lives of the people on those planets or the destruction that’s left in their wake. They’ve killed dozens of worlds, billions of inhabitants, all to fuel one madwoman’s desire to live forever.”
Rose remained silent, taken aback by his quiet rant. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were wide, as if even he hadn’t expected to be overcome by such fury. After a moment’s hesitation, Rose approached him and put her hand on his leather-clad arm.
“Hey. We’re here to take the readings on this key thing, right?” he nodded, hanging on her words as if she could draw him from the dark place he’d momentarily fallen to. “Well, there’s nothing to say we can’t foil their plans. Break their machines, toss that woman down one of her own mine-shafts, whatever. I’m always up for a little world-saving. How about you?”
“No point,” his sigh sounded resigned, “It’s already been…will be done. It’s being done right now. In a few hours the machines will be destroyed and the hollow planet will be filled. No more popping around the Universe for them.” he began walking towards a wide opening that led to an upward sloping corridor. She followed, shoulders slumping slightly.
“Oh. Kinda disappointing that. Feels like we’re being left out of the loop a bit.”
“We can’t interfere,” he cautioned.
“I know, I know. S’just…world saving going on, and we’re not involved. Makes my fingers a bit twitchy. Doesn’t it make yours?”
“Yeah, a bit,” his slight smile told her that she’d managed to chase his anger away, “but if you’re really hard up, we can always find you something to save. Maybe a canary.”
“Don’t think this is canary country down here. Maybe bat country, but definitely not canaries, ” Rose looked around. The corridor had narrowed and there was a track above their heads, with burned out lamps set into the walls. She found herself wistfully thinking of the natural beauty of the glowing mushroom clusters. This entire area seemed long abandoned, despite the presence of the man-made objects. Echoing from side corridors she could hear the distant sounds of industry, “I thought you said this was a mine. Where are all the miners?”
They had come to an open elevator shaft. The Doctor fiddled with his sonic screwdriver near the controls, and they heard a mechanical whir as the lift was activated. She looked askance at the lift when it arrived. It was an open-air basket affair. It didn’t look too sturdy, but as she boarded it she figured it was leaps and bounds better than a rope ladder,
“It’s automated,” he replied as the lift began to move, “all the machinery is run by operators from a central facility aboveground.”
“Must be nice for the owners, saving money like that,” she commented absently, “but I bet they don’t have anything like RECHAR for the displaced workers or the affected communities,” at his incredulous look, she became suddenly defensive, “What? I can’t know anything about the world sometimes? We spend enough time in Cardiff, I feel like an honorary Welshman as it is,” he just raised his eyebrows and shook his head. She took a breath to defend herself again when the lift crested the surface. The Doctor stiffened and spoke before she could launch a further defense.
“I don’t think you need to worry about displaced workers, Rose,” he nodded towards the open area beyond the lift grate, “I think we just found them.”
Rose turned to see that they were in an abandoned-looking warehouse of corrugated tin. Holes in the roof let in dim sunlight, and strewn throughout the large area were broken-down mining carts and other mining paraphernalia. A group of men in boilersuits were gathered around a large and much newer-looking piece of equipment, what Rose assumed to be the automated operations. What concerned Rose more were the four helmeted guards in black and silver that were marshalling near the lift, advanced-looking weaponry pointed directly at her and the Doctor.
“Hello,” the Doctor waved cheerfully.
“Who are you? What were you doing in the mines?” One of the guards demanded.
“Oh, right,” the Doctor fumbled in his coat pocked and pulled out the leather fold that Rose knew contained the psychic paper. She braced herself to playact whatever role he was going to cast her in, “I’m Special Mine Inspector John Smith, and this is my associate Rose Tyler of the National Union of Mineworkers. We’re here to check on mine conditions in preparation for the new golden age.”
“We weren’t informed of any inspection,” said a rather burly-looking man in a rumpled gray boilersuit. He muscled between the guards and carefully inspected the psychic paper. Rose was starting to worry that he’d seen some flaw, but eventually he handed the folder back to the Doctor. Her relief was short-lived, however, as the man fixed her with a baleful glare, “And I never heard of no National Mineworkers Union.”
“National Union of Mineworkers,” replied the Doctor. Rose refrained from rolling her eyes at his need to correct minutiae, “the NMU is a corrupt organization only out to steal your dues. The NUM works for miner benefits and interests—”
“Foreman Ozlack,” the head guard interrupted, removing his helmet to reveal a hard-faced man with the look of career military, “there’s no other access to the mines, and we haven’t let anyone down this way. These are obviously Mentiads like the ones my men encountered earlier. They’re controlling our minds to make us think they’re inspectors.”
Rose saw the Doctor opening his mouth to protest, when the foreman rounded on the guard and did it for him.
“Nonsense, Sergeant Greig. This man has authorization from Mr. Fibuli himself. Unless you’re going to tell me that the Mentiads can falsify documents now, too.”
“But…” the guard began to protest.
“Enough. I’ve orders to increase our mining to full capacity, but with the slurry output pump blocked, we’re down to 30% of capacity. That’s probably why the Inspector has been sent here,” he shot Rose a suspicious look and muttered under his breath, “though I don’t know about the other one.”
“Quite right,” said the Doctor, taking his cue from the unwitting foreman, “And now that I know the trouble, Sergeant Greig can just pop us up to the Bridge to make our report to Mr. Fibuli. Don’t worry,” he assured the foreman, who had started to look nervous, “I’ll be sure to stress that the blockage isn’t your fault, and that you’re doing everything in your power to fix it. Shall we go?” He started to lead Rose forward, but Sergeant Grieg’s words stopped him.
“She stays here.”
“What?”
“Your associate. She stays here. You may have papers,” the guard’s face still showed his doubts over the document’s authenticity, “but she doesn’t. Unauthorized people are not allowed on the Bridge, especially with the current Mentiad threat.”
The Doctor opened his mouth to argue, then apparently thought better of it, “If I could just have a word with my associate?” He led Rose to one side before the guard could reply.
“Doctor, don’t you dare leave me…”
“Now, look Rose,” he leaned close so they couldn’t be overheard, “This is fantastic. Best chance we have to get on the Bridge where the key is. It’s a madhouse up there right now, too much potential for…well…let’s just say it’ll be a lot easier to avoid trouble if it’s just me. You’ll be safe down here. No planet-saving on the agenda for you today. Just cool your heels and keep out of the miners’ way. I’ll be back in no time.”
“Cool my heels?” she hissed. Sometimes she was overcome by the urge to smack him one, “Is that what I’m supposed to do?”
“Or, you could always unionize them, honorary Welshman that you are,” he grinned at her, “The NUW needs all the support it can get.” She started to voice a further protest, but he was already walking towards the guard, all smiles and cheer.
“Well, what are you waiting for Sergeant. The next Golden Age of Prosperity won’t come by itself.”
Rose glared at the Doctor’s retreating back as he and the guard left. Sometimes she just…. She sighed and her shoulders slumped. He was probably right. As much as she hated being left behind, what they were doing was far too important and far too dangerous for her to make a fuss. She knew the Doctor well enough to know that he wouldn’t leave her behind unless he thought it was necessary – well, that or to keep her safe, but she rather got the idea that it was the former this time.
Bucking up a little with that thought, she turned her attention to the miners. Most of them were sitting off to one side. Obviously whatever measures they had attempted to clear the pump blockage had failed, and they were now in a hurry-up-and-wait pattern until some new measure could be tried. Squaring her shoulders and pasting a bright smile on her face, Rose headed over to them.
“So,” she began nonchalantly as they looked up at her approach, “ever heard the phrase ‘Workers of the World, Unite’?”
*************************
The Doctor regaled Sergeant Grieg with the technical details of the mining processes of a dozen civilizations as the air skiff took them to the Bridge. He focused particularly on the kinds of environmental damage caused by various forms of mining, and the low cost/benefit ratio once factors like quality of life were taken into account. He thought he had done quite well at boring Grieg into letting his guard down, but as they were getting out of the skiff, the Sergeant turned to him with renewed suspicion.
“Wait a moment. Mountaintop removal? What’s that?” he said in response to the Doctor’s most recent topic, “There’s no such thing. All mining on Zanak is subsurface.”
“Really? Is it?” The Doctor began edging towards a nearby door. Grieg was rounding the nose of the skiff, stalking towards him, “Are you sure? No pesky mountaintops getting in the way of somebody’s lovely view? Well, my mistake.” He lunged for the door, yanking it open to find a small maintenance closet. Behind him, Grieg laughed. The Doctor turned to face the guard.
“You won’t find any escape that way, Mentiad traitor. You’re trapped.”
“Oh, it isn’t for me,” the Doctor said nonchalantly, folding his arms. He saw Grieg’s muscles tense. The guard charged and The Doctor nimbly stepped to one side. Grieg’s momentum sent him crashing into the closet, arms wheeling. The Doctor quickly slammed the door closed, whipping out his sonic screwdriver to seal the closet shut.
“It’s for you,” he finished. It really was like shooting fish in a barrel, just as he remembered. He took an amused satisfaction from the muffled pounding and shouting coming from the closet. Pocketing his screwdriver, he jogged down an empty corridor, searching for the engine room, and the service lift that would lead him to Queen Xanxia’s stasis chamber.
It took a wrong turn or two, but he eventually found his way to the narrow hatch. Climbing in, he used the sonic screwdriver to pop the electronic lock that blocked the lift from going to Xanxia’s chambers unless called. The tiny cubicle lurched as it rose and he braced himself against the smooth metal walls. The timing on this next bit would be tricky, he knew. Leave it just a few minutes late and he didn’t want to contemplate the potential for disaster. When it stopped, he put his ear to the door and listened. The room on the other side was quiet, causing him to breathe a sigh of relief. He was just about to open the hatch when he heard voices, footsteps approaching. He only had time to squeeze himself into the furthest corner when the hatch opened and he found himself staring at a man with wild blue eyes, a mop of curly hair, and (he cursed Rose for being right) a rather ridiculously long scarf. His Fourth iteration. Himself.
*********************
Rose was appalled at the circumstances her conversation with the miners had revealed.
“Wait a moment,” she halted the latest miner, a skinny, bright-eyed boy about her age, midway through his list of grievances, “Narell, what you’re telling me is that you’re all basically slaves. You don’t get paid or nothing? None of you?”
“No, miss,” he replied. She thought he might be trying to wheedle some pity out of her, but the nodding of the other miners verified his claim.
“But then, why do you do it?” she had given up any pretense of being from this place or knowing its ways. Foreman Ozlack was otherwise occupied with the machinery, and none of the loitering miners seemed to care about her obvious ignorance. All of them were eager to bend the sympathetic ear of a pretty girl, “I mean, if the conditions are as strenuous and dangerous as you say, why do it? There’s only a few guards, and they don’t seem to be watching you lot too closely.”
“You don’t understand the way of it, miss,” one of the older miners – she wanted to say his name was Pisser, but she was pretty sure she must have misheard it – cut in. Narell looked put out that the old man had diverted her attention, “Zanak’s rich. The whole planet is littered with precious stones. We’re bowing under the weight of our own prosperity. The Golden Ages of Prosperity just keep coming and coming. Nobody needs to work, so nobody does. But the Captain needs operators and mechanics, and miners sometimes for when the machines break down. And there’s always people who disagree with the Captain’s policies.”
“Or have family members who did,” cut in another miner.
“Or have family members who were taken by the Mentiads,” muttered another.
“And so, there you go,” Pisser concluded, “Technically we’re all volunteers, but only because it beats being shot by the Captain’s guards.”
“That’s why this Union thing you’re talking about, it doesn’t sound possible,” Narell said softly, wistfully, “It’s a nice dream and all, but we’d be killed for sure. Captain’s got no reason to listen to us. We got no power, united or not.”
“So you’re not workers. You’re like, whatsit…indentured prisoners or something?” Rose clarified, still appalled, “What about the Foreman? Is he…”
“Naw,” said Pisser, “he’s the Captain’s man. But he’s a good Foreman. I’ve worked at other mines in other places where the Foremen weren’t nearly so careful of the men or sympathetic to our situation.”
Rose was about to ask more questions when Foreman Ozlack appeared at her side. Despite Pisser’s assurances that he was a conscientious boss, she couldn’t help glaring at him just a little.
“Alright, men. We just got the all-clear on this lode. Looks like it’s mined-out, but we’ve also been informed there’s a new Golden Age of Prosperity on its way. We’ll need to clear the pump, and it looks like there’s no hope for doing it remotely. Time to stop flirting with the young lady and get to work. You,” he pointed at Pisser, “take the lads down the tunnel and see what you can do from that end. You, boy, what’s your name?”
Rose’s new friend’s eyes widened at being singled out and his adam’s apple bobbed, “Narell,” he croaked.
“Right,” said the Foreman, looking the boy up and down, “You look skinny enough. Ever been down a well before?” Ozlack didn’t seem too perturbed when Narell shook his head, “Well, no matter. Might do, might do. Come with me.”
The Foreman walked away towards the automated equipment, Narell trailing in his wake. Rose saw several of the miners giving Narell pitying looks, and Pisser looked downright…well…pissed.
“What’s going on? Where are you blokes going?” Rose asked as the other miners began gathering their gear and moving away.
“Down into the Hollow, Miss. Didn’t you hear the Foreman? New Golden Age is coming, and the Hollow’s gonna fill up again. We need to clear the pump before that happens or we’ll fall further behind on our output.”
“So, it’s safe, then?” Rose pressed.
“Safe as houses, Miss. Long as we’re out of there before the Hollow fills. But that’ll be days yet.”
“Days?” she was confused. She was certain the Doctor had said—
“Sorry, miss. Best be getting to work,” Pisser set his cap more firmly on his head and began herding the miners to the lift. Rose hurried after him.
“Wait? What about Narell? Why isn’t he going with you?”
Pisser paused to let the other miners pile onto the lift, glancing over to make sure Foreman Ozlack was otherwise occupied, “He’s going to be lowered down the well to check the intervals of the casing column and see if he can clear the slurry blockage from inside.”
“But, he’ll be safe, right?” Rose pressed.
“Should do, miss. Narell’s skinny enough he won’t get stuck, and the chances of the column bursting and drowning him aren’t too high.”
“Not too high? What does that mean?” but Pissel had boarded the lift and it was lowering into the darkness of the shaft below. He looked up at her and tugged his cap as he disappeared from sight.
Incensed, Rose turned and stalked towards the Foreman. She saw that Narell had already been fitted with a harness and was standing on the lip of what she assumed was the well. The space between the casing and the rock wall looked pretty narrow to her, and she wondered if even Narell’s thin frame would be able to fit. She opened her mouth, intending to make as much of a stink as she needed to in order to stop the Foreman from sending Narell down, but the boy looked at her with a grimly steady gaze and her protest died on her lips.
“It’s alright, Miss. It’s my job. Just give us a kiss for luck.”
But it’s not, she wanted to shout, It’s not your job. You’re being forced to do this. You’re not even getting paid! Instead she leaned forward and gave him a quick buss on the cheek. His bright smile was the last thing to fade from view as he was lowered into the darkness of the well.
Rose waited anxiously as the minutes ticked by. Foreman Ozlack glared at her a few times, but seemed resigned to her presence. Nails drumming nervously on the railing around the platform, Rose eventually broke the silence with a question that had been niggling at the back of her brain.
“Foreman, one of the miners told me they were safe in the Hollow as long as they got out before it filled again.”
“That’s right miss. Right now’s the only time it’s safe to go in the Hollow.”
“But he said it would be safe for a few days. How do you know when this…Golden Age thing is supposed to arrive? How can you make sure the miners are out in time.”
“We get a call from the Bridge,” he seemed to relax, seemed willing to indulge her questions even though they marked her as an outsider, “The Captain’s scientists always know when the omens are going to come. They warn us and we make sure everyone’s out.”
“But you haven’t received any warning about it happening today?” Now Rose knew something was wrong. She clearly recalled the Doctor telling her as they exited the TARDIS that in a few hours the transmat engines would be destroyed and the hollow planet filled.
“No, Miss. We just finished mining the previous bounty. We’ll have a few days before it refills, I’m sure of it.”
He might be, but Rose wasn’t. She dithered for a moment over what to do. On the one hand, if she warned the Foreman she would be using knowledge of the future. The Doctor would throw a fit if she did something to muck up the timeline. On the other hand, she couldn’t just let those men die, and it wasn’t like she was crossing her own timeline, like with her dad. She didn’t think saving the miners would mess anything up.
Reaching a decision, Rose turned to Ozlack and fixed him with her most deadly serious gaze, “Foreman. Something’s going to go wrong. The Hollow is going to be filled sooner than you think, like in the next hour. You’ve got to get your men out of there, or they’ll all die.”
******************************
Temporal quantum physics in action was a rather disconcerting thing to experience, even if one was a Time Lord and had some familiarity with the phenomenon. The Doctor raised a finger to his lips to warn his Fourth self not to react or call attention to him, at the same moment he recalled being his Fourth self, opening the service lift hatchway to see a future regeneration of himself hidden inside and raising a finger to his lips. The memories, which had only been potential until the moment of occurrence brought them into actuality, assaulted him with a peculiar double-vision. He blinked against the disorientation.
Luckily, whatever else he may have been in his many regenerations, he’d never been slow-witted. The look of surprise that flashed over his Fourth self’s features was gone as quickly as it arrived. The hatch closed and the Doctor heard footsteps as his Fourth self herded the lad Kimus away from the door. He heard K-9 enter and recollected that this was when he had…or rather would…or rather was cannily turning Kimus so that the boy’s back was to the hatch. Not much time, he recalled. He quietly opened the hatch, slipping out of the service lift and into the shadows of the time-dampeners that served to keep Queen Xanxia’s old body suspended in the last moments of her life, just as his Fourth self shoed Kimus and K-9 onto the service lift and away. He knew it was probable that the robot dog had seen or sensed him, but K-9 had been developed to travel with a Time Lord. He would know better than to mention the anomaly of two Masters in one place and time.
The Doctor waited until his Fourth self exited the room to confront Xanxia with the cellular projection device that she was using to create her new body, then emerged from the shadows, sighing in relief. That had been too close, too great a risk. If it weren’t for the nearby presence of a portion of the Key, and the associated temporal dampening field, it might have been much worse. He took several deep breaths as he assimilated the new memories of the confusion and anger his Fourth incarnation had felt at seeing himself. Then he chuckled ruefully at the gratitude both he and his Fourth self felt that Romana hadn’t been present for that particular kerfuffle.
Recalling the matter at hand, he let himself into the Captain’s trophy hall. Lining the walls along either side of the hall were clear display cases. Each one was labeled – Granados, Bandraginus V, Lowiteliom, Calufrax, and so on. In each case hung a shining sphere. They looked ordinary enough, even plain considering the elegance of the display, but the Doctor knew that each sphere represented a planet destroyed, the death of billions of souls. He felt his previous fury returning. A masterpiece of gravitic geometry, he’d once called it, and so it was. Balancing the condensed mass of the planets against each other so that their gravitic pulls were cancelled out was a work of genius that he didn’t think even he could equal. But then, he would never turn his genius to genocide.
But hadn’t he?
That thought stopped him. His fury dissipated into the despair that always loomed like a shadow in his mind. He bowed his head, resting it against the case housing Calufrax, the ‘planet’ that Zanak had just finished mining, but in reality the segment to the key that he’d come to take readings on. He looked down the row of cases, each of them a planet. Each of them destroyed like Gallifrey. He thought of his Fourth self, taking the Captain to task in this very room, less than a half-hour ago relatively speaking, for so much wanton destruction. Only later had he discovered that the Captain’s plan was to use the gravitic mass of the planets to destroy Queen Xanxia, to end her reign and her life once and for all. Now he was left wondering if there was any difference between what the Captain had done in his attempt to end Xanxia, and what he himself had done to end the Daleks and the Time War.
He shook his head. He didn’t have time for these thoughts. Fishing out his sonic screwdriver he began taking the readings he would need. Unfortunately, the process was easier than he’d indicated to Rose on Ribos, leaving his sometimes too-active mind to gnaw over his troubled thoughts.
‘It’s different, but it’s only by degrees, innit?…What makes what I did right and what Harriet Jones did wrong?’ Rose’s words echoed in his mind. He had dismissed her worries before, but now he wondered if her question was wiser than he’d given her credit for. If the real reason he’d waved her question off was because it hit too close to home. He wasn’t perfect. He knew he made mistakes. He prided himself on never making the same mistake twice, but he knew that this was only possible because of the deep introspection he put into all his actions. He might make a mistake, out of anger or fear, but he was good at recognizing it almost immediately. When fate offered him second chances, he tried to be wise enough to take them…even if that wisdom did sometimes look like cowardice from the outside. He knew better, and that was what mattered.
He should have taken Rose’s question more seriously. He should have talked to her about what had happened on Satellite Five, rather than just giving her the bare details and shunting her off before she asked anything too uncomfortable, or remembered details he knew he would never reveal. He wondered if she had nightmares about atomizing the Dalek fleet. It didn’t matter if she didn’t remember doing it. Sometimes, he knew, not remembering was worse. The imagination could supply horrific images in a way that actual experience had no way of competing against. His involvement in Gallifrey’s destruction had been a distant, remote thing. The imagined screams that often haunted him seemed worse than any real memories could have been.
“Rose,” he whispered. His free hand reached for hers out of habit, but closed on empty air. His fingers clenched tightly, nails biting into his palms. He wished she were here at his side, despite the danger and the difficulty they would have had in navigating the Bridge together. Despite the mess that would have resulted if she’d been in the lift with him. He was glad she was safe with the miners, but he wished she were with him so he could touch her, hold her, anchor himself to reality through her. He sometimes worried how dependant he had come to be on her. It seemed to him that if he went too long without physically reassuring himself of her presence that he went a little mad.
Before Satellite Five, before he’d kissed her, it had been easy to convince himself that his need was platonic. Before New Earth, he was sure that she had convinced herself similarly. The few days after New Earth had been hellish for him, not knowing how to return them to the uncharged friendship of before, not daring to touch her for fear that it would lead to something more.
There were a multitude of reasons why he could never go there, shouldn’t ever think about going there, from ancient Gallifreyan custom to more clearly defined Time Lord restrictions to his own personal code of honor. Searching for the Key was more than just a solution to their long-term problem, more than just a way to save the Universe. It was a welcome distraction from the more confusing morass of unspoken emotions and desires that lay between them. He knew he should try harder to push her away, for both their sakes, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her hand.
A slight change in the whine of the sonic screwdriver, so insignificant that most people wouldn’t sense it, brought him out of his musings. He concentrated on the instrument, checking to make sure the reading was as complete as it could be. It was.
Right. Time to stop moping about Rose and Gallifrey and get a move on. He repocketed the sonic screwdriver and made his way back to the service lift. His Fourth self and Romana should be on their way back to the TARDIS to stall the Captain and Xanxia from moving Zanak. Hopefully, he could get back to the mines before the planetary transmat was engaged. He recalled that the entire planet had quaked terribly during the failed transmatting. Even the TARDIS had been damaged. Hopefully he could get himself and Rose out of there before that happened, but whatever the case, he didn’t want to leave Rose alone during the violent tremors that were about to come.
Rassilon, he was glad she was safe with the miners.
