Trenzalore - Series 2
Episode 4/6
I'll be Home For Christmas
Previously:
The Doctor has been sent to a town called Christmas on the planet Trenzalore, where the Time Lords are calling out his name through a crack in the wall. Clara Oswald and the TARDIS are gone, and for company the Doctor has the townspeople. The Doctor meets Archie Sawyer, the old Sheriff of Christmas, and April, his adventurous teenage daughter. Over fifty years later...
Archie Sawyer has been dead many years, and the Doctor has parted ways with his now sixty year-old daughter, April, allowing her to travel the universe in her own ship. Now, generations have passed, after a long and complex battle with the Weeping Angels, and his main companion is young Barnable Hope, grandson of one of the town's bravest men, raised by his two mothers, Loretta and Alma. But even he cannot quite replace the hole left by the two most important women in the Doctor's life - April Sawyer and Clara Oswald...
The Doctor has been sent to a town called Christmas on the planet Trenzalore, where the Time Lords are calling out his name through a crack in the wall. Clara Oswald and the TARDIS are gone, and for company the Doctor has the townspeople. The Doctor meets Archie Sawyer, the old Sheriff of Christmas, and April, his adventurous teenage daughter. Over fifty years later...
Archie Sawyer has been dead many years, and the Doctor has parted ways with his now sixty year-old daughter, April, allowing her to travel the universe in her own ship. Now, generations have passed, after a long and complex battle with the Weeping Angels, and his main companion is young Barnable Hope, grandson of one of the town's bravest men, raised by his two mothers, Loretta and Alma. But even he cannot quite replace the hole left by the two most important women in the Doctor's life - April Sawyer and Clara Oswald...
Prologue
“Are you there? Hello? Am I getting warm?”
Barnable heard the sound of timbers creaking and slowly slid off his blindfold. It took him a moment to process the dull, brown shape in front of him as what the Doctor had described to them as a Cyberman. His heart raced, but from drill after drill – and incursion after incursion – the conditioned response manifested itself, as he cried out, over and over again, running:
“There’s another one!”
Barnable ran the alarm bell, just missing the Cyberman’s flame-thrower as it stood motionless before them. It was a strange sight; a sort of festive terrorism. The old townspeople would have remembered the Cyberman who stood watching the Doctor, forming a deal with Archie Sawyer, but those days were a long time ago.
“There’s another one! Doctor, Doctor! There’s another one!”
“Incinerate,” spoke the Cyberman in its deep, rumbling tones, almost shaking the whole town. “Incinerate.”
And then, in one instant, everyone in the town went back to normal, as the Doctor emerged from the clock-tower. Barnable’s initial response was to reach out, preparing to catch the wooden rifle the Doctor had fixed for him. This was no longer an attack – it was business as usual.
“The Doctor is required,” said the Cyberman.
The Doctor ignored him, noticing Barnable’s joy at getting his toy back. “There you go Barnable.”
“Thanks.”
“Working fine. Nice action. Don’t leave it out in the rain again.” He then took out a wheeled toy, tossing it to another child. “Fixed the wheels and the anti-grav.”
“The anti-what?”
“Yeah, may have gone a bit far. Now then,” started the Doctor, drawing his attention to the Cyberman, “what do we have today? Don’t you move one step further. Wooden Cyberman. Nice, like it.” He limped over to the wooden attacker. “Low tech, doesn’t set off the alarms upstairs.”
The Doctor paused, staring intently at his enemy. It looked back, vacant. The Doctor tried not to let the eyes fool him. The only thing they were vacant of was emotion: in that Cybernetic brain, a thousand calculations were being carried out, several hundred ways of killing the Doctor being ruled out by the second. A part of it, perhaps – the Doctor thought – knew that the Time Lord was even smarter, even quicker-
And before the Cyberman could register it, the Doctor had pulled out his sonic screwdriver. As an immediate response, it raised its arm with a creak.
“Only bit of tech allowed in,” explained the Doctor. “Got in before the truce. Now, I just sent an instruction to your firearm to reverse the polarity and fire out the back end. Now, as we're standing in a truth field, you will understand I cannot be lying. If you like, you can scan my screwdriver, verify that's the signal I sent.”
The Cyberman checked. “Signal verified.” After another couple of thousand calculations, its arm weapon turned around and fired a hole in its chest, and the Cyberman stood in its final moments, experiencing an alien concept only accessible within long-buried emotions: death.
“Yes,” joked the Doctor. “I probably should have mentioned this doesn't work on wood.” He turned serious, addressing the last few circuits ticking over past the death of everything that ever made the Cyberman human. “You send your friends up there a message from the Doctor. You tell them the Doctor stays.” He prodded the Cybermen with its cane and it fell backwards into the snow. “Next…”
Barnable heard the sound of timbers creaking and slowly slid off his blindfold. It took him a moment to process the dull, brown shape in front of him as what the Doctor had described to them as a Cyberman. His heart raced, but from drill after drill – and incursion after incursion – the conditioned response manifested itself, as he cried out, over and over again, running:
“There’s another one!”
Barnable ran the alarm bell, just missing the Cyberman’s flame-thrower as it stood motionless before them. It was a strange sight; a sort of festive terrorism. The old townspeople would have remembered the Cyberman who stood watching the Doctor, forming a deal with Archie Sawyer, but those days were a long time ago.
“There’s another one! Doctor, Doctor! There’s another one!”
“Incinerate,” spoke the Cyberman in its deep, rumbling tones, almost shaking the whole town. “Incinerate.”
And then, in one instant, everyone in the town went back to normal, as the Doctor emerged from the clock-tower. Barnable’s initial response was to reach out, preparing to catch the wooden rifle the Doctor had fixed for him. This was no longer an attack – it was business as usual.
“The Doctor is required,” said the Cyberman.
The Doctor ignored him, noticing Barnable’s joy at getting his toy back. “There you go Barnable.”
“Thanks.”
“Working fine. Nice action. Don’t leave it out in the rain again.” He then took out a wheeled toy, tossing it to another child. “Fixed the wheels and the anti-grav.”
“The anti-what?”
“Yeah, may have gone a bit far. Now then,” started the Doctor, drawing his attention to the Cyberman, “what do we have today? Don’t you move one step further. Wooden Cyberman. Nice, like it.” He limped over to the wooden attacker. “Low tech, doesn’t set off the alarms upstairs.”
The Doctor paused, staring intently at his enemy. It looked back, vacant. The Doctor tried not to let the eyes fool him. The only thing they were vacant of was emotion: in that Cybernetic brain, a thousand calculations were being carried out, several hundred ways of killing the Doctor being ruled out by the second. A part of it, perhaps – the Doctor thought – knew that the Time Lord was even smarter, even quicker-
And before the Cyberman could register it, the Doctor had pulled out his sonic screwdriver. As an immediate response, it raised its arm with a creak.
“Only bit of tech allowed in,” explained the Doctor. “Got in before the truce. Now, I just sent an instruction to your firearm to reverse the polarity and fire out the back end. Now, as we're standing in a truth field, you will understand I cannot be lying. If you like, you can scan my screwdriver, verify that's the signal I sent.”
The Cyberman checked. “Signal verified.” After another couple of thousand calculations, its arm weapon turned around and fired a hole in its chest, and the Cyberman stood in its final moments, experiencing an alien concept only accessible within long-buried emotions: death.
“Yes,” joked the Doctor. “I probably should have mentioned this doesn't work on wood.” He turned serious, addressing the last few circuits ticking over past the death of everything that ever made the Cyberman human. “You send your friends up there a message from the Doctor. You tell them the Doctor stays.” He prodded the Cybermen with its cane and it fell backwards into the snow. “Next…”
I'LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS
CO-Written by THE GENIE AND JACK HUDSON
"VESSEL DOCKING. SUPREME DALEK ENTERING THE COMMAND SHIP." The simple, gold Dalek spun around from the monitor, and looked up to its superior, the black Command Dalek of Trenzalore. It was located on a raised platform, going from one length of the cavernous room to the other. On either side of the Command Dalek were the blue and orange Strategist and Scientist. They were like a reception committee. At the other end of the platform a door began to rise up inwards and the gleaming white Supreme Dalek rolled in.
"ALL HAIL THE DALEK SUPREME. ALL HAIL THE DALEK SUPREME." The gold and red drone Daleks on the floor below began to chant.
The Command Dalek glided forwards before coming to an abrupt, and perhaps nervous, stop. The Supreme Dalek spoke first:
"REE-PORT!"
"THE TIME LORDS REMAIN UNDER THE PROTECTION OF THE DOCTOR AND THE PAPAL MAINFRAME. ANY ATTEMPT AT INTERFERENCE MAY LEAD TO THE RESURRECTION OF THE TIME LORDS. WE CAN DO NOTHING."
"NOTHING?" It spoke with threat in its voice, "THE PRIME MINISTER OF THE DALEKS IS UNSATISFIED BY THE SITUATION ON TRENZALORE. UNTIL THE MISSION HERE IS COMPLETE FULL PRIORITY CANNOT BE ALLOCATED TO THE REBUILDING OF THE HOME WORLD. DIRECT ACTION IS REQUIRED."
"WHAT ACTION IS REQUIRED?"
"UNDER MY PERSONAL SUPERVISION, WE WILL INVADE THE PAPAL MAINFRAME AND ENTRAP AND KILL THE DOCTOR. TONIGHT WILL MARK THE FINAL END OF THE TIME LORDS!"
"THE FINAL END, FINAL END, FINAL END!" The Daleks chanted until it merged into a meaningless sound. The Command Dalek did not chant.
***
“You’ve got to be the drunk giraffe!” cried the Doctor, acting out his signature dance, a group of children gathered around him. “You’ve got to commit! Don’t be cool guys. Cool, is not cool!”
“Cool is not cool!” echoed the group.
“And what’s the dance we’re doing?”
“The drunk giraffe!”
“The drunk giraffe!” agreed the Doctor. “Yeah, it is. Merry Christmas. Give me a hug. Bring it in.”
The parents watched the Doctor contemplatively, some wishing they could keep his optimism themselves, others sharing it. To the Doctor, they were just another generation, a part of a longer life. A few of them had thought about what Christmas meant to do the Doctor – how great a part it played in the wider narrative of a Time Lord’s life.
The answer was that, over time, the Doctor forgot he had lived any other life. He was the man who had stayed for Christmas. There were flashes of his old life – stories, they became, as the memories started to fade – but everything he was he put into Christmas. He never indicated a future beyond it. He never indicated that he would leave, or even that he desired to.
“How’s your father’s barn?” the Doctor asked Barnable, once the crowd had dissipated.
“You’ve fixed the leak alright, but he says it’s bigger on the inside now.”
Barnable seemed to say ‘bigger on the inside’ with an air of disbelief. That was a memory the Doctor hadn’t lost.
“Shush,” said the Doctor, gesturing for Barnable to keep it a secret. “They’ll all want one.” Barnable smiled.
Another sound emerged, taking a while for the townspeople to distinguish from the wind. The sound of…
The Doctor looked on, wondering. It can’t be.
“What is it?” asked Barnable. “What’s that noise?”
The shape confirmed it, and the Doctor became suddenly piqued.
“Well… where have you been for three hundred years? Ha!”
“What’s that?” repeated Barnable.
“It’s my ship!”
“Your what?”
“It’s my TARDIS. That’s how I got here in the first place.”
“Does this mean you’re leaving?” asked Barnable. The Doctor stopped.
It was the question everybody in the town at that moment was wondering. The most terrifying thing about the TARDIS’s arrival was how relieved the Doctor was to see it. People asked themselves questions. Why is he relieved? Does he want to leave? Has he always wanted to leave? What if Christmas really was only a small part of his life?
The TARDIS was now fully materialised, and a woman stood on the outside, holding her key in the lock, frozen. The Doctor tapped her on the back with his cane. She turned.
Clara.
She stared on at the Doctor. She’d only seen his face a minute ago, as young as it always was, yet here an old man gazed back at her. An old man in a new home.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was in space,” whispered Clara, shivering.
“Well, you were in the time vortex. She must have extended the force-field. No wonder… no wonder she’s late, dragging you around!”
“You tricked me…”
“I saved you!” declared the Doctor, standing by his decision.
“You didn’t even say goodbye!”
“I’m furious with you!” shouted the Doctor, almost wishing he believed what he was saying.
“Well I’m not even talking to you!”
Both sensing the other’s reaction, the pair laughed and embraced, and the town watched on, entranced, as the woman from the drawings of those who had died so many years ago became real in front of them.
***
Tasha Lem was at prayer when the cleric burst in and disturbed her peace.
"Mother Superious..."
She jumped up, making a sound somewhere between a shout and a hiss at the intrusion.
"I apologise, your holiness. But it's the Daleks."
"The Daleks?"
"Yes. Their ships are on the move, and I think they've got reinforcements. They've knocked the Martian ship out of the sky, sent it tumbling into the forcefield. They'll reach us in... Well, now."
Suddenly a voice burst into the room:
"THE PAPAL MAINFRAME WILL SURRENDER TO DALEKS."
"Prepare for battle, within the mainframe. Non-military chapters should seal their churches, and they might have a chance of survival. I'm going to talk to them."
***
“Ha.”
Clara wrapped herself up in a blanket, studying the Doctor’s workbench and the drawings around it closely. It was like reading a book. A story.
“Oh, Doctor. Fixing toys and fighting monsters.” It wasn’t difficult to picture the promise in the back of the Doctor’s mind throughout these decades of his life: never cruel or cowardly; never give up, never give in. She imagined he’d also added a few for good measure. Always have fun, and when you’re not, pretend you are. Never knowingly be serious. And… always move on. She wondered how many children the Doctor had watched grow up, eventually sitting by them at their bedsides, never looking himself a day older.
Except… this time he did.
“The turkey isn’t done yet,” remarked the Doctor.
Clara gestured to the crack. “Is it still asking the question.”
“Oh, never stops. Come upstairs. It’s almost time.”
“What for?”
“Dawn. The light here only lasts a few minutes. You don’t want to miss it.”
“Who’s this?” asked Barnable, standing at the door.
“Who’s the town badass?” asked the Doctor.
“My mum,” replied Barnable, completely seriously.
“Apart from your mum?”
“My gran.”
The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Me! Me, I’m the town badass.” The Doctor gestured to Clara. “Well, meet Clara Oswald. New badass in town.” Clara smiled and did a little badass hand motion, then realised how stupid she looked.
“That’s Clara? The person you’re always going on about?”
Clara raised an eyebrow. The Doctor prayed that Barnable would stop there.
“You did all those drawings of her… and there was a time you got sick and started crying, and you were all…”
The Doctor scoffed and sent the boy away, while Clara went a little red, concealing her laughter.
***
The Papal Mainframe hung in space, adjacent to a fleet of Daleks saucers, who were creeping closer and closer. The face of Tasha Lem appeared on the Church.
“Halt, Daleks! This is the Church of the silence. You will not pass our force field. Trenzalore is ours.”
“YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED”
“Listen to the sound… can’t you hear it, still? Doesn’t it make you afraid? You should fear it, even more than I do. It’s the Time Lords, and if you break this stalemate they will return. And your reign of terror over the galaxies will end, to be replaced by theirs. You cannot act against us.”
“DALEKS DO NOT WAIT, WILL NOT WAIT. THE DOCTOR WILL DIE.”
A weapon came out of the front of the mothership and shot a wide beam into Tasha’s projection and the church behind it.
She woke in the main chamber.
“We are at war.”
***
“Well,” explained the Doctor, thoroughly enjoying his marshmallows, “it’s a standoff. They can’t attack in case I unleash the Time Lords, and I can’t run away, because they’ll burn this planet to stop the Time Lords.” He finished his marshmallow and looked down, solemnly. “I’ve buried a lot of people here. Here and everywhere, over the years. Nothing ever lasts. Everything just ends. I stole a time machine once – ran round the universe, trying to put it all back together. But however fast you run, it just keeps falling apart.”
Clara smiled sadly.
“Hey.” The Doctor looked up. “After all these years, I’ve finally found somewhere that needs me to stick around. A town called Christmas. Could’ve been worse. Right, there you go, buddy.” The Doctor moved Handles around in his seat. “Comfy?”
“Comfort is irrelevant.”
The Doctor adjusted the position. “How’s that, is that better?”
“Affirmative.”
“You just take it easy, buddy.” The Doctor looked to Clara. “He’s getting old. I do my best for him, but I just can’t get the parts, you know. Hey, I know the feeling.” He stretched out and roasted another marshmallow on the open fire.
“Where did you get those?”
“I have a supplier. The pink ones are best.”
“I have developed a fault,” said Handles.
“Hey, don’t you worry, Handles. You’re just dreaming. The sun’s coming up very soon. You just hang on in there.”
“I have developed a fault,” insisted Handles, his robotic voice faltering. “I, I have developed a fault.”
“Hey, Handles. Come on.” The Doctor lifted Handles and looked at him; at his jagged, imperfect face. Not a Cyberman – a friend. Helpful. Flawed. “Come on. One more dawn, you can do it. You’ve got in you.” The Doctor was pleading. “Come on, just hang on in there.”
“Attention. Emergency. Attention.”
“Handles, what is it?” Clara noticed a look of genuine concern on the Doctor’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“Urgent action required. You must patch the telephone device back through the… console… unit…”
And with that last reminder – that memory, suddenly bringing the Doctor back to a night so many years ago when his new home was just Planet Boring floating in the sky – Handles’ lights went out.
“Come back. Handles? Handles.” The Doctor sighed, calmly accepting another one. It was the longest anyone or anything on Christmas had lasted apart from him and the town itself. “Oh. Thank you, Handles, and well done.” The Doctor bit his lip. He couldn’t cry in front of Clara. Not over a daft metal head. That would be…
“Well done, mate.”
***
Daleks swarmed around the mainframe, breaking their way through to the main chamber. Whole chapels were destroyed by their exterminations. The clerics’ weaponry was useless against the Dalek armour, and most were exterminated before they fired a shot anyway. The confessional priests were more successful, destroying the Daleks’ elevation circuits with their electricity, sending them spiraling down into the depths of the mainframe. Some groups of priests were able to corner Daleks and rip through their casings to electrify the weak and feeble mutants hidden inside. However, when the clerics were focusing on their own battle they had no idea that the priests were there, so it did not do much for morale. The battle was clearly being lost, as Tasha always knew it would. However, she stood with her men until the last moment possible before retreating to her chapel. She entered and apporahced the communication circuits.
“Doctor, the church has been attacked by the Daleks. Many are dead and we will lose all control soon. Doctor? Doctor! Doctor!”
The doors blew off the chapel and a red drone Dalek entered.
“EXTERMINATE.”
“Doctor!!!”
***
The sun had risen between the mountains, with birds singing to greet its arrival. The Doctor looked to Clara, and saw the town through her eyes; saw how new and fresh it looked, admired the snow, and wished he could stay just a bit longer.
“What do you think of my new place?” asked the Doctor. “I come up here once a day for a few minutes, just to remind myself of what it is I’m protecting.”
“It’s beautiful. Why did you send me away?”
“Because if I hadn’t, I’d have buried you a long time ago.”
“No, you wouldn’t. I would never have let you get stuck here.”
“Ha! Everyone gets stuck somewhere eventually, Clara. Everything ends.”
“Except you.”
The Doctor chuckled. “Have you been paying attention? I’m an old man now.
“But you don’t die. You change. You pop right back up with a new face.” The way Clara said it made it all seem so simple.
“No. Not forever. I can change twelve times. Thirteen versions of me. Thirteen silly Doctors.”
“Okay, you’re number eleven, so-“
“Ha. Are we forgetting Captain Grumpy, eh? I didn’t call myself the Doctor during the Time War, but it was still a regeneration.”
“Okay, so you’re number twelve.”
“Well,” added the Doctor, “number ten once regenerated and kept the same face. I had vanity issues at the time.” He stopped fooling around. “Twelve regenerations, Clara. I can’t ever do it again. This is where I end up, this face, this version of me. We saw this planet in the future, remember? All those graves, one of them mine.” The Doctor looked on to the place his grave might be, though the horizon was nothing like the one he’d seen all those years ago with Clara.
The sun was starting to set.
“Change the future,” urged Clara.
“I can’t.”
“You’ve got your TARDIS back.”
“Ha! You think I’m just going to fly away, abandon everyone?”
“Of course not. But you’ve been protecting this town for over three hundred years. Do you not think it’s anybody else’s go yet?”
“There is no one else to protect it.”
“It’s not going to be you forever.” Clara turned down her optimism and tried to persuade the Doctor with uncompromising truths. “It’ll end the same way, whatever you do.”
“Every life I save is a victory,” stated the Doctor. “Every single one.”
“What about your life? Just for once, after all this time, have you not earned the right to think about that?” Clara stopped. “Sorry. Wrong thing to say. We shouldn’t be having an argument.”
“Clara,” admitted the Doctor, “I’ve been having that argument for the last three hundred years, all my myself.”
“But you didn’t have your TARDIS.”
“Ah. Yes, well that made it easier to stay. True…”
The Doctor looked away from Clara so she didn’t have to see him tear up. He had had that argument on his own. But this brought back the memory of something else – standing up and looking over Christmas at the same time every day with somebody else. The last time the Doctor had had company up here, it was with April Sawyer. And for a few days, she hadn’t even crossed his mind.
He’d let her go. Saved her. She had the ending she deserved. But he missed her. The longer it got, the greater the assurance of her no longer being alive was, the more it hurt.
April.
A rumble of thunder in the darkening sky distracted the Doctor, and Tasha Lem’s holographic face called out his name.
“Ah. Look who’s woken up.”
“The Church of the Silence requests parlay. Your rights and safety are sanctified.”
“I’ll be right up.”
“I’m sending you a transporter.”
“Nah, don’t bother. I’ve got me motor back!”
“It’s gone dark,” observed Clara.
“Yeah, well, the sun’s gone down.”
“Already?”
“Everything ends, Clara,” said the Doctor, casting the image of April aside. “And sooner than you think.”
***
On his way to the TARDIS, the Doctor spotted a tiny hand behind it, and calmly walked around the outside to see the boy he always jokingly called his companion.
“Hmm… are you guarding my TARDIS, Barnable?”
“Are you coming back?” asked the boy, staring up at him with wide, awestruck eyes.
“Oh, come on. You know me.”
The Doctor realised that could have known anything. He meant that he always walked off, ran away, went somewhere new. Except here, he didn’t. Here he was the man who stayed for Christmas. ‘You know me’, to Barnable, was a promise: I’ll come back.
This was what the Doctor perceived Barnable was thinking, but his little mind was escaping off into a million different stories, using everything it had learnt about the Doctor to predict his next move, almost like a Cyberman. But through his innocence, his hope and his desperation, all of Barnable’s worries and thoughts were articulated as one simple promise: “I’ll wait.”
The Doctor smiled, reminded of something. He tried to place what it was, but gave up. After a millennia and a half of travelling the universe, one should come to expect déjà vu.
***
“She hasn’t aged much,” remarked Clara, slowly approaching Tasha Lem, a little intimidated that she might spontaneously decide to eat her or something.
“No. She’s against ageing.”
“Approach,” ordered Tasha.
Confess…
“What are those things?” inquired Clara.
“Ever watched the Apollo Moon Landing?” asked the Doctor.
“Not into space stuff,” replied Clara. The Doctor gave her a funny look.
Confess…
“Confessional priests,” elaborated the Doctor. “Very popular.” Clara looked away. She-
Clara slowly approached Tasha Lem, a little intimidated that she might spontaneously decide to eat her or something.
“Genetically engineered so you forget everything you told them.”
“Told who?” questioned Clara, without a clue about what the Doctor was referring to.
“There you go.”
***
“Hey.” Loretta sat down beside her son, who she had found sitting in the snow in the middle of the square, “What are you doing?”
“Waiting.”
“Waiting? For what?”
Barnable did not answer.
“The Doctor?” She smiled, “You do spend a lot of time around him now. I’ve never seen him take anybody under his wing like this. I must have a very special boy.”
“Do you think he’ll come back?”
“I think so. But I don’t know. The Doctor isn’t someone you can rely on. He’s a great man, and if you want to be his… I won’t stop you. But he’s different from us, you have to know that. He’s not your Grandad.”
Barnable looked at her.
“I know you miss him, but the Doctor isn’t the person who can take that role, me and Mum are. And I know the Doctor will keep you safe, but it’s still dangerous. You could get hurt in so many ways…”
“I’m… happy.” Barnable said, and Loretta beamed as it was not something she had heard from him before.
“Oh, come here,” they hugged, “if you’re happy, then I am too. You wait for the Doctor. And if he doesn’t come, he’ll have me to answer to.”
***
“Satisfactory?” asked Tasha, watching the Doctor toss white marshmallows right, left and centre.
“Where are the pink ones?”
“E numbers. You’re hyper enough as it is.”
“So, this is sweet,” joked Clara. “Middle of a siege and you two have little chats?”
“She’s right,” agreed Tasha. “The situation cannot continue.”
“It can’t end, either,” added the Doctor.
“Why did you ever come to Trenzalore?” asked Tasha.
“Well, I did come to Trenzalore, and nothing can change that now,” said the Doctor, almost snapping. “Didn’t stop you trying though, did it?”
“Not me. The Kovarian Chapter broke away.” The events seemed like yesterday. Katherine… “They travelled back along your timeline and tried to prevent you ever reaching Trenzalore.”
“So that’s who blew up my TARDIS.” The Doctor seemed mildly satisfied. “I thought I’d left the bath running.”
“They blew up your time capsule, created the very cracks in the universe through which the Time Lords are now calling.”
“The destiny trap,” recited the Doctor. “You can’t change history if you’re part of it.”
“They engineered a psychopath to kill you.”
“Totally married her. I’d never have made it here alive without River Song.”
“I’m not interested in changing history, Doctor,” said Tasha, moving the subject on. “I want to change the future.” Clara crossed her fingers – Tasha wasn’t the only one. “The Daleks send for reinforcements daily. They are massing for war. Three days ago, they attacked the Mainframe itself.”
“They attacked here?”
Clara leaned in. “How did you stop them?”
“Stop them?” retorted Tasha. “It was slaughter.”
“Why didn’t you call me? I could have helped.”
“I tried. I died in this room, screaming your name.”
“No! No, no, no. Tasha, no, please,” pleaded the Doctor, “not Tasha. No. Fight it. Tasha, fight it!”
The penny dropped – Tasha sat back and realised, trying to link events together in her mind. The Doctor, on the other hand, already knew.
“No…”
“Oh. I died. It’s funny the things that slip your mind.”
Three Daleks entered – the old bronze models; gliding killing machines. Suddenly there was no time for joking, or flirting, or even marshmallows.
“STEP AWAY FROM THE DALEK UNIT, DOCTOR.”
“You shouldn’t even know who I am,” pointed out the Doctor.
“INFORMATION CONCERNING THE DOCTOR WAS HARVESTED FROM THE CADAVER OF TASHA LEM!”
“Bet she never told you how to break through the Trenzalore force-field, though. She’d have died first.”
“SEVERAL TIMES.”
“Well…” the Doctor’s mind worked away, trying to find a way out of this situation. “You’d better kill me, then. Go on. But before you do…” he pulled out his sonic and the Question sounded throughout the room: “Doctor who? Doctor who? Doctor who?”
“I’m a tough old bird. I’ll be ages dying. Way time enough to answer a question. And,” the Doctor continued, taunting the Daleks, “oh dear, what happens then, boys?”
Energy sizzled over Tasha’s hands as she grabbed Clara’s neck from behind, freezing her to the spot.
“YOU WILL DIE IN SILENCE, DOCTOR, OR YOUR ASSOCIATE WILL DIE!”
“Fine, go on, kill her. Kill her!” The Doctor avoided looking at Clara. “See if I care. But tell me, what are you going to do next?”
“SEE HOW THE TIME LORD BETRAYS!”
“You’ll kill me anyway,” stated Clara. The Doctor shared a smile with her. Well done. “What difference does it make? I’m not afraid. I’ll leave that to you.”
“You see, Tasha?” The Doctor turned to the Mother Superiour. “That’s what I’m talking about. That is a woman! I always knew you were a bit spineless, you and your pointless church. Why did I ever rely on you? Never trust a nun to do a Doctor’s work.”
Tasha turned on the Doctor, releasing Clara in the process, and slapped him in the face, quickly turning again to blast the Daleks into flames.
“And she’s back!” exclaimed the Doctor, kissing Tasha, as her eyestalk went back into her forehead, leaving a scar. “You never could resist a row.”
“Kiss my when I ask.”
“Well, you’d better ask nicely.”
“In your dreams!”
“Right, get us back to the TARDIS. Can you do that?”
“Yeah, but quickly, the Dalek inside me is waking.”
The Doctor paced across the room. “Fight it.”
“I can’t.”
“Listen to me. You have been fighting the psychopath inside you all your life. Shut up and win. That is an order, Tasha Lem.” The Doctor stepped into his confessional teleport booth, Clara following suit.
“The force-field will hold for a while, but it will decay, and there are breaches already.”
“Then this isn’t a siege anymore, it’s a war. It’s all up to you now.” The Doctor fixed his eyes on Tasha. “Fight the Daleks, inside and out. You can do it, I know you can.”
“Oh, I see. You’ve got your TARDIS back, haven’t you? Time to fly away.”
“Tasha, please,” uttered the Doctor. “Please. Thank you.”
“None of this was for you, you fatuous egotist,” called Tasha from the controls, glad she wasn’t within the truth field. “It was for the peace. Fly away, Doctor!”
***
“Did you talk to him?” Alma asked as Loretta entered their kitchen.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And I told him that he should wait for the Doctor.”
“What?” Alma asked, shocked, “It was you who thought it was getting out of hand!”
“Well, I was wrong. He’s happy. He told me he was happy, and he’s safe. It’s the Doctor. The closer Barnable is to him the safer he is.”
“But what if he’s not? What if something happens? The Doctor’s not… he’s just a man. Anything could happen to Barnable, running around behind the man who runs into danger.”
“You’re being silly. He’s not a man, he’s the Doctor. Barnable will always be safe with him.”
***
“It’s done.”
“What is?”
“Your turkey. Either that or it’s woken up.”
“Do you want some?”
“Go on, then.”
“Got any plates?”
“Do you know, I’ve even got Christmas crackers.”
“One thing.” Clara stood opposite the Doctor, looking right at him. “Give me those big sad eyes, look at me so I know you’re not lying, and tell me you will never send me away ever again.”
The Doctor considered. “Clara Oswald,” he promised, smiling, “I will never send you away again.”
Clara kissed his cheek, beaming, and ran down the stairs to take the turkey out. “Turkey smells good!” she called up.
“Yeah, smells great…” the Doctor drifted off as he looked at the scanner. Barnable was still waiting by the TARDIS, as promised. The Doctor plugged the device into the charger. And then the memory came back.
Amelia. Amelia Pond. He smacked himself. She had waited for him, all night. He never came back. And she told stories. He became her imaginary friend. And that was okay – she lived in Leadworth.
But they’re in the middle of a war. An imaginary friend was never enough. He knew that. And he knew, even in Leadworth, it wasn’t quite enough. He was never going to leave. Never going to make the same mistake twice. Amelia Pond would never wait again – that was what he had vowed.
The truth field was a strange thing. The only thing one could do within it was tell the truth. You didn’t have to think about telling the truth – it just articulated itself. And so the Doctor didn’t think about lying. He made a promise after years of being used to the truth and for one second believed it himself. The truth was that as soon as he escaped, he started lying again.
That was his choice. Stay here, and die a liar, feeling guilty that you let them down again. Or leave Clara Oswald.
***
It was night on Christmas, and everyone else was asleep, a few lights left on.
The TARDIS materialised again and Barnable’s eyes lit up. The snow changed direction, blowing into his face, and pulled his scarf over it for a second. The TARDIS landed, and the door swung open. Barnable guarded his eyes from the light that shone out, but looked on, almost blinded, to see the silhouette of the old man and his walking stick. The Doctor: Father Christmas. He stepped out and closed the door, looking down proudly to Barnable.
“You waited.”
“You came back.”
“I did.” The Doctor ruffled Barnable’s hair and breathed in. Back in the truth field. “I would never, ever leave you, Barnable Hope.”
“If you’re not leaving, why did you bring it back?” asked Barnable.
“It’s a reminder. Besides, I might leave tomorrow.” The Doctor began walking back to the clock-tower. “Or the next day…” The truth field kept bugging him in his mind. There was something wrong with what he was saying, as if he didn’t quite believe it. That happened, sometimes. The truth field couldn’t quite stop you when you were lying to yourself, but it let you know something was wrong. Maybe, the Doctor thought, he would never-
“Or the day after that…”
"ALL HAIL THE DALEK SUPREME. ALL HAIL THE DALEK SUPREME." The gold and red drone Daleks on the floor below began to chant.
The Command Dalek glided forwards before coming to an abrupt, and perhaps nervous, stop. The Supreme Dalek spoke first:
"REE-PORT!"
"THE TIME LORDS REMAIN UNDER THE PROTECTION OF THE DOCTOR AND THE PAPAL MAINFRAME. ANY ATTEMPT AT INTERFERENCE MAY LEAD TO THE RESURRECTION OF THE TIME LORDS. WE CAN DO NOTHING."
"NOTHING?" It spoke with threat in its voice, "THE PRIME MINISTER OF THE DALEKS IS UNSATISFIED BY THE SITUATION ON TRENZALORE. UNTIL THE MISSION HERE IS COMPLETE FULL PRIORITY CANNOT BE ALLOCATED TO THE REBUILDING OF THE HOME WORLD. DIRECT ACTION IS REQUIRED."
"WHAT ACTION IS REQUIRED?"
"UNDER MY PERSONAL SUPERVISION, WE WILL INVADE THE PAPAL MAINFRAME AND ENTRAP AND KILL THE DOCTOR. TONIGHT WILL MARK THE FINAL END OF THE TIME LORDS!"
"THE FINAL END, FINAL END, FINAL END!" The Daleks chanted until it merged into a meaningless sound. The Command Dalek did not chant.
***
“You’ve got to be the drunk giraffe!” cried the Doctor, acting out his signature dance, a group of children gathered around him. “You’ve got to commit! Don’t be cool guys. Cool, is not cool!”
“Cool is not cool!” echoed the group.
“And what’s the dance we’re doing?”
“The drunk giraffe!”
“The drunk giraffe!” agreed the Doctor. “Yeah, it is. Merry Christmas. Give me a hug. Bring it in.”
The parents watched the Doctor contemplatively, some wishing they could keep his optimism themselves, others sharing it. To the Doctor, they were just another generation, a part of a longer life. A few of them had thought about what Christmas meant to do the Doctor – how great a part it played in the wider narrative of a Time Lord’s life.
The answer was that, over time, the Doctor forgot he had lived any other life. He was the man who had stayed for Christmas. There were flashes of his old life – stories, they became, as the memories started to fade – but everything he was he put into Christmas. He never indicated a future beyond it. He never indicated that he would leave, or even that he desired to.
“How’s your father’s barn?” the Doctor asked Barnable, once the crowd had dissipated.
“You’ve fixed the leak alright, but he says it’s bigger on the inside now.”
Barnable seemed to say ‘bigger on the inside’ with an air of disbelief. That was a memory the Doctor hadn’t lost.
“Shush,” said the Doctor, gesturing for Barnable to keep it a secret. “They’ll all want one.” Barnable smiled.
Another sound emerged, taking a while for the townspeople to distinguish from the wind. The sound of…
The Doctor looked on, wondering. It can’t be.
“What is it?” asked Barnable. “What’s that noise?”
The shape confirmed it, and the Doctor became suddenly piqued.
“Well… where have you been for three hundred years? Ha!”
“What’s that?” repeated Barnable.
“It’s my ship!”
“Your what?”
“It’s my TARDIS. That’s how I got here in the first place.”
“Does this mean you’re leaving?” asked Barnable. The Doctor stopped.
It was the question everybody in the town at that moment was wondering. The most terrifying thing about the TARDIS’s arrival was how relieved the Doctor was to see it. People asked themselves questions. Why is he relieved? Does he want to leave? Has he always wanted to leave? What if Christmas really was only a small part of his life?
The TARDIS was now fully materialised, and a woman stood on the outside, holding her key in the lock, frozen. The Doctor tapped her on the back with his cane. She turned.
Clara.
She stared on at the Doctor. She’d only seen his face a minute ago, as young as it always was, yet here an old man gazed back at her. An old man in a new home.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was in space,” whispered Clara, shivering.
“Well, you were in the time vortex. She must have extended the force-field. No wonder… no wonder she’s late, dragging you around!”
“You tricked me…”
“I saved you!” declared the Doctor, standing by his decision.
“You didn’t even say goodbye!”
“I’m furious with you!” shouted the Doctor, almost wishing he believed what he was saying.
“Well I’m not even talking to you!”
Both sensing the other’s reaction, the pair laughed and embraced, and the town watched on, entranced, as the woman from the drawings of those who had died so many years ago became real in front of them.
***
Tasha Lem was at prayer when the cleric burst in and disturbed her peace.
"Mother Superious..."
She jumped up, making a sound somewhere between a shout and a hiss at the intrusion.
"I apologise, your holiness. But it's the Daleks."
"The Daleks?"
"Yes. Their ships are on the move, and I think they've got reinforcements. They've knocked the Martian ship out of the sky, sent it tumbling into the forcefield. They'll reach us in... Well, now."
Suddenly a voice burst into the room:
"THE PAPAL MAINFRAME WILL SURRENDER TO DALEKS."
"Prepare for battle, within the mainframe. Non-military chapters should seal their churches, and they might have a chance of survival. I'm going to talk to them."
***
“Ha.”
Clara wrapped herself up in a blanket, studying the Doctor’s workbench and the drawings around it closely. It was like reading a book. A story.
“Oh, Doctor. Fixing toys and fighting monsters.” It wasn’t difficult to picture the promise in the back of the Doctor’s mind throughout these decades of his life: never cruel or cowardly; never give up, never give in. She imagined he’d also added a few for good measure. Always have fun, and when you’re not, pretend you are. Never knowingly be serious. And… always move on. She wondered how many children the Doctor had watched grow up, eventually sitting by them at their bedsides, never looking himself a day older.
Except… this time he did.
“The turkey isn’t done yet,” remarked the Doctor.
Clara gestured to the crack. “Is it still asking the question.”
“Oh, never stops. Come upstairs. It’s almost time.”
“What for?”
“Dawn. The light here only lasts a few minutes. You don’t want to miss it.”
“Who’s this?” asked Barnable, standing at the door.
“Who’s the town badass?” asked the Doctor.
“My mum,” replied Barnable, completely seriously.
“Apart from your mum?”
“My gran.”
The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Me! Me, I’m the town badass.” The Doctor gestured to Clara. “Well, meet Clara Oswald. New badass in town.” Clara smiled and did a little badass hand motion, then realised how stupid she looked.
“That’s Clara? The person you’re always going on about?”
Clara raised an eyebrow. The Doctor prayed that Barnable would stop there.
“You did all those drawings of her… and there was a time you got sick and started crying, and you were all…”
The Doctor scoffed and sent the boy away, while Clara went a little red, concealing her laughter.
***
The Papal Mainframe hung in space, adjacent to a fleet of Daleks saucers, who were creeping closer and closer. The face of Tasha Lem appeared on the Church.
“Halt, Daleks! This is the Church of the silence. You will not pass our force field. Trenzalore is ours.”
“YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED”
“Listen to the sound… can’t you hear it, still? Doesn’t it make you afraid? You should fear it, even more than I do. It’s the Time Lords, and if you break this stalemate they will return. And your reign of terror over the galaxies will end, to be replaced by theirs. You cannot act against us.”
“DALEKS DO NOT WAIT, WILL NOT WAIT. THE DOCTOR WILL DIE.”
A weapon came out of the front of the mothership and shot a wide beam into Tasha’s projection and the church behind it.
She woke in the main chamber.
“We are at war.”
***
“Well,” explained the Doctor, thoroughly enjoying his marshmallows, “it’s a standoff. They can’t attack in case I unleash the Time Lords, and I can’t run away, because they’ll burn this planet to stop the Time Lords.” He finished his marshmallow and looked down, solemnly. “I’ve buried a lot of people here. Here and everywhere, over the years. Nothing ever lasts. Everything just ends. I stole a time machine once – ran round the universe, trying to put it all back together. But however fast you run, it just keeps falling apart.”
Clara smiled sadly.
“Hey.” The Doctor looked up. “After all these years, I’ve finally found somewhere that needs me to stick around. A town called Christmas. Could’ve been worse. Right, there you go, buddy.” The Doctor moved Handles around in his seat. “Comfy?”
“Comfort is irrelevant.”
The Doctor adjusted the position. “How’s that, is that better?”
“Affirmative.”
“You just take it easy, buddy.” The Doctor looked to Clara. “He’s getting old. I do my best for him, but I just can’t get the parts, you know. Hey, I know the feeling.” He stretched out and roasted another marshmallow on the open fire.
“Where did you get those?”
“I have a supplier. The pink ones are best.”
“I have developed a fault,” said Handles.
“Hey, don’t you worry, Handles. You’re just dreaming. The sun’s coming up very soon. You just hang on in there.”
“I have developed a fault,” insisted Handles, his robotic voice faltering. “I, I have developed a fault.”
“Hey, Handles. Come on.” The Doctor lifted Handles and looked at him; at his jagged, imperfect face. Not a Cyberman – a friend. Helpful. Flawed. “Come on. One more dawn, you can do it. You’ve got in you.” The Doctor was pleading. “Come on, just hang on in there.”
“Attention. Emergency. Attention.”
“Handles, what is it?” Clara noticed a look of genuine concern on the Doctor’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“Urgent action required. You must patch the telephone device back through the… console… unit…”
And with that last reminder – that memory, suddenly bringing the Doctor back to a night so many years ago when his new home was just Planet Boring floating in the sky – Handles’ lights went out.
“Come back. Handles? Handles.” The Doctor sighed, calmly accepting another one. It was the longest anyone or anything on Christmas had lasted apart from him and the town itself. “Oh. Thank you, Handles, and well done.” The Doctor bit his lip. He couldn’t cry in front of Clara. Not over a daft metal head. That would be…
“Well done, mate.”
***
Daleks swarmed around the mainframe, breaking their way through to the main chamber. Whole chapels were destroyed by their exterminations. The clerics’ weaponry was useless against the Dalek armour, and most were exterminated before they fired a shot anyway. The confessional priests were more successful, destroying the Daleks’ elevation circuits with their electricity, sending them spiraling down into the depths of the mainframe. Some groups of priests were able to corner Daleks and rip through their casings to electrify the weak and feeble mutants hidden inside. However, when the clerics were focusing on their own battle they had no idea that the priests were there, so it did not do much for morale. The battle was clearly being lost, as Tasha always knew it would. However, she stood with her men until the last moment possible before retreating to her chapel. She entered and apporahced the communication circuits.
“Doctor, the church has been attacked by the Daleks. Many are dead and we will lose all control soon. Doctor? Doctor! Doctor!”
The doors blew off the chapel and a red drone Dalek entered.
“EXTERMINATE.”
“Doctor!!!”
***
The sun had risen between the mountains, with birds singing to greet its arrival. The Doctor looked to Clara, and saw the town through her eyes; saw how new and fresh it looked, admired the snow, and wished he could stay just a bit longer.
“What do you think of my new place?” asked the Doctor. “I come up here once a day for a few minutes, just to remind myself of what it is I’m protecting.”
“It’s beautiful. Why did you send me away?”
“Because if I hadn’t, I’d have buried you a long time ago.”
“No, you wouldn’t. I would never have let you get stuck here.”
“Ha! Everyone gets stuck somewhere eventually, Clara. Everything ends.”
“Except you.”
The Doctor chuckled. “Have you been paying attention? I’m an old man now.
“But you don’t die. You change. You pop right back up with a new face.” The way Clara said it made it all seem so simple.
“No. Not forever. I can change twelve times. Thirteen versions of me. Thirteen silly Doctors.”
“Okay, you’re number eleven, so-“
“Ha. Are we forgetting Captain Grumpy, eh? I didn’t call myself the Doctor during the Time War, but it was still a regeneration.”
“Okay, so you’re number twelve.”
“Well,” added the Doctor, “number ten once regenerated and kept the same face. I had vanity issues at the time.” He stopped fooling around. “Twelve regenerations, Clara. I can’t ever do it again. This is where I end up, this face, this version of me. We saw this planet in the future, remember? All those graves, one of them mine.” The Doctor looked on to the place his grave might be, though the horizon was nothing like the one he’d seen all those years ago with Clara.
The sun was starting to set.
“Change the future,” urged Clara.
“I can’t.”
“You’ve got your TARDIS back.”
“Ha! You think I’m just going to fly away, abandon everyone?”
“Of course not. But you’ve been protecting this town for over three hundred years. Do you not think it’s anybody else’s go yet?”
“There is no one else to protect it.”
“It’s not going to be you forever.” Clara turned down her optimism and tried to persuade the Doctor with uncompromising truths. “It’ll end the same way, whatever you do.”
“Every life I save is a victory,” stated the Doctor. “Every single one.”
“What about your life? Just for once, after all this time, have you not earned the right to think about that?” Clara stopped. “Sorry. Wrong thing to say. We shouldn’t be having an argument.”
“Clara,” admitted the Doctor, “I’ve been having that argument for the last three hundred years, all my myself.”
“But you didn’t have your TARDIS.”
“Ah. Yes, well that made it easier to stay. True…”
The Doctor looked away from Clara so she didn’t have to see him tear up. He had had that argument on his own. But this brought back the memory of something else – standing up and looking over Christmas at the same time every day with somebody else. The last time the Doctor had had company up here, it was with April Sawyer. And for a few days, she hadn’t even crossed his mind.
He’d let her go. Saved her. She had the ending she deserved. But he missed her. The longer it got, the greater the assurance of her no longer being alive was, the more it hurt.
April.
A rumble of thunder in the darkening sky distracted the Doctor, and Tasha Lem’s holographic face called out his name.
“Ah. Look who’s woken up.”
“The Church of the Silence requests parlay. Your rights and safety are sanctified.”
“I’ll be right up.”
“I’m sending you a transporter.”
“Nah, don’t bother. I’ve got me motor back!”
“It’s gone dark,” observed Clara.
“Yeah, well, the sun’s gone down.”
“Already?”
“Everything ends, Clara,” said the Doctor, casting the image of April aside. “And sooner than you think.”
***
On his way to the TARDIS, the Doctor spotted a tiny hand behind it, and calmly walked around the outside to see the boy he always jokingly called his companion.
“Hmm… are you guarding my TARDIS, Barnable?”
“Are you coming back?” asked the boy, staring up at him with wide, awestruck eyes.
“Oh, come on. You know me.”
The Doctor realised that could have known anything. He meant that he always walked off, ran away, went somewhere new. Except here, he didn’t. Here he was the man who stayed for Christmas. ‘You know me’, to Barnable, was a promise: I’ll come back.
This was what the Doctor perceived Barnable was thinking, but his little mind was escaping off into a million different stories, using everything it had learnt about the Doctor to predict his next move, almost like a Cyberman. But through his innocence, his hope and his desperation, all of Barnable’s worries and thoughts were articulated as one simple promise: “I’ll wait.”
The Doctor smiled, reminded of something. He tried to place what it was, but gave up. After a millennia and a half of travelling the universe, one should come to expect déjà vu.
***
“She hasn’t aged much,” remarked Clara, slowly approaching Tasha Lem, a little intimidated that she might spontaneously decide to eat her or something.
“No. She’s against ageing.”
“Approach,” ordered Tasha.
Confess…
“What are those things?” inquired Clara.
“Ever watched the Apollo Moon Landing?” asked the Doctor.
“Not into space stuff,” replied Clara. The Doctor gave her a funny look.
Confess…
“Confessional priests,” elaborated the Doctor. “Very popular.” Clara looked away. She-
Clara slowly approached Tasha Lem, a little intimidated that she might spontaneously decide to eat her or something.
“Genetically engineered so you forget everything you told them.”
“Told who?” questioned Clara, without a clue about what the Doctor was referring to.
“There you go.”
***
“Hey.” Loretta sat down beside her son, who she had found sitting in the snow in the middle of the square, “What are you doing?”
“Waiting.”
“Waiting? For what?”
Barnable did not answer.
“The Doctor?” She smiled, “You do spend a lot of time around him now. I’ve never seen him take anybody under his wing like this. I must have a very special boy.”
“Do you think he’ll come back?”
“I think so. But I don’t know. The Doctor isn’t someone you can rely on. He’s a great man, and if you want to be his… I won’t stop you. But he’s different from us, you have to know that. He’s not your Grandad.”
Barnable looked at her.
“I know you miss him, but the Doctor isn’t the person who can take that role, me and Mum are. And I know the Doctor will keep you safe, but it’s still dangerous. You could get hurt in so many ways…”
“I’m… happy.” Barnable said, and Loretta beamed as it was not something she had heard from him before.
“Oh, come here,” they hugged, “if you’re happy, then I am too. You wait for the Doctor. And if he doesn’t come, he’ll have me to answer to.”
***
“Satisfactory?” asked Tasha, watching the Doctor toss white marshmallows right, left and centre.
“Where are the pink ones?”
“E numbers. You’re hyper enough as it is.”
“So, this is sweet,” joked Clara. “Middle of a siege and you two have little chats?”
“She’s right,” agreed Tasha. “The situation cannot continue.”
“It can’t end, either,” added the Doctor.
“Why did you ever come to Trenzalore?” asked Tasha.
“Well, I did come to Trenzalore, and nothing can change that now,” said the Doctor, almost snapping. “Didn’t stop you trying though, did it?”
“Not me. The Kovarian Chapter broke away.” The events seemed like yesterday. Katherine… “They travelled back along your timeline and tried to prevent you ever reaching Trenzalore.”
“So that’s who blew up my TARDIS.” The Doctor seemed mildly satisfied. “I thought I’d left the bath running.”
“They blew up your time capsule, created the very cracks in the universe through which the Time Lords are now calling.”
“The destiny trap,” recited the Doctor. “You can’t change history if you’re part of it.”
“They engineered a psychopath to kill you.”
“Totally married her. I’d never have made it here alive without River Song.”
“I’m not interested in changing history, Doctor,” said Tasha, moving the subject on. “I want to change the future.” Clara crossed her fingers – Tasha wasn’t the only one. “The Daleks send for reinforcements daily. They are massing for war. Three days ago, they attacked the Mainframe itself.”
“They attacked here?”
Clara leaned in. “How did you stop them?”
“Stop them?” retorted Tasha. “It was slaughter.”
“Why didn’t you call me? I could have helped.”
“I tried. I died in this room, screaming your name.”
“No! No, no, no. Tasha, no, please,” pleaded the Doctor, “not Tasha. No. Fight it. Tasha, fight it!”
The penny dropped – Tasha sat back and realised, trying to link events together in her mind. The Doctor, on the other hand, already knew.
“No…”
“Oh. I died. It’s funny the things that slip your mind.”
Three Daleks entered – the old bronze models; gliding killing machines. Suddenly there was no time for joking, or flirting, or even marshmallows.
“STEP AWAY FROM THE DALEK UNIT, DOCTOR.”
“You shouldn’t even know who I am,” pointed out the Doctor.
“INFORMATION CONCERNING THE DOCTOR WAS HARVESTED FROM THE CADAVER OF TASHA LEM!”
“Bet she never told you how to break through the Trenzalore force-field, though. She’d have died first.”
“SEVERAL TIMES.”
“Well…” the Doctor’s mind worked away, trying to find a way out of this situation. “You’d better kill me, then. Go on. But before you do…” he pulled out his sonic and the Question sounded throughout the room: “Doctor who? Doctor who? Doctor who?”
“I’m a tough old bird. I’ll be ages dying. Way time enough to answer a question. And,” the Doctor continued, taunting the Daleks, “oh dear, what happens then, boys?”
Energy sizzled over Tasha’s hands as she grabbed Clara’s neck from behind, freezing her to the spot.
“YOU WILL DIE IN SILENCE, DOCTOR, OR YOUR ASSOCIATE WILL DIE!”
“Fine, go on, kill her. Kill her!” The Doctor avoided looking at Clara. “See if I care. But tell me, what are you going to do next?”
“SEE HOW THE TIME LORD BETRAYS!”
“You’ll kill me anyway,” stated Clara. The Doctor shared a smile with her. Well done. “What difference does it make? I’m not afraid. I’ll leave that to you.”
“You see, Tasha?” The Doctor turned to the Mother Superiour. “That’s what I’m talking about. That is a woman! I always knew you were a bit spineless, you and your pointless church. Why did I ever rely on you? Never trust a nun to do a Doctor’s work.”
Tasha turned on the Doctor, releasing Clara in the process, and slapped him in the face, quickly turning again to blast the Daleks into flames.
“And she’s back!” exclaimed the Doctor, kissing Tasha, as her eyestalk went back into her forehead, leaving a scar. “You never could resist a row.”
“Kiss my when I ask.”
“Well, you’d better ask nicely.”
“In your dreams!”
“Right, get us back to the TARDIS. Can you do that?”
“Yeah, but quickly, the Dalek inside me is waking.”
The Doctor paced across the room. “Fight it.”
“I can’t.”
“Listen to me. You have been fighting the psychopath inside you all your life. Shut up and win. That is an order, Tasha Lem.” The Doctor stepped into his confessional teleport booth, Clara following suit.
“The force-field will hold for a while, but it will decay, and there are breaches already.”
“Then this isn’t a siege anymore, it’s a war. It’s all up to you now.” The Doctor fixed his eyes on Tasha. “Fight the Daleks, inside and out. You can do it, I know you can.”
“Oh, I see. You’ve got your TARDIS back, haven’t you? Time to fly away.”
“Tasha, please,” uttered the Doctor. “Please. Thank you.”
“None of this was for you, you fatuous egotist,” called Tasha from the controls, glad she wasn’t within the truth field. “It was for the peace. Fly away, Doctor!”
***
“Did you talk to him?” Alma asked as Loretta entered their kitchen.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And I told him that he should wait for the Doctor.”
“What?” Alma asked, shocked, “It was you who thought it was getting out of hand!”
“Well, I was wrong. He’s happy. He told me he was happy, and he’s safe. It’s the Doctor. The closer Barnable is to him the safer he is.”
“But what if he’s not? What if something happens? The Doctor’s not… he’s just a man. Anything could happen to Barnable, running around behind the man who runs into danger.”
“You’re being silly. He’s not a man, he’s the Doctor. Barnable will always be safe with him.”
***
“It’s done.”
“What is?”
“Your turkey. Either that or it’s woken up.”
“Do you want some?”
“Go on, then.”
“Got any plates?”
“Do you know, I’ve even got Christmas crackers.”
“One thing.” Clara stood opposite the Doctor, looking right at him. “Give me those big sad eyes, look at me so I know you’re not lying, and tell me you will never send me away ever again.”
The Doctor considered. “Clara Oswald,” he promised, smiling, “I will never send you away again.”
Clara kissed his cheek, beaming, and ran down the stairs to take the turkey out. “Turkey smells good!” she called up.
“Yeah, smells great…” the Doctor drifted off as he looked at the scanner. Barnable was still waiting by the TARDIS, as promised. The Doctor plugged the device into the charger. And then the memory came back.
Amelia. Amelia Pond. He smacked himself. She had waited for him, all night. He never came back. And she told stories. He became her imaginary friend. And that was okay – she lived in Leadworth.
But they’re in the middle of a war. An imaginary friend was never enough. He knew that. And he knew, even in Leadworth, it wasn’t quite enough. He was never going to leave. Never going to make the same mistake twice. Amelia Pond would never wait again – that was what he had vowed.
The truth field was a strange thing. The only thing one could do within it was tell the truth. You didn’t have to think about telling the truth – it just articulated itself. And so the Doctor didn’t think about lying. He made a promise after years of being used to the truth and for one second believed it himself. The truth was that as soon as he escaped, he started lying again.
That was his choice. Stay here, and die a liar, feeling guilty that you let them down again. Or leave Clara Oswald.
***
It was night on Christmas, and everyone else was asleep, a few lights left on.
The TARDIS materialised again and Barnable’s eyes lit up. The snow changed direction, blowing into his face, and pulled his scarf over it for a second. The TARDIS landed, and the door swung open. Barnable guarded his eyes from the light that shone out, but looked on, almost blinded, to see the silhouette of the old man and his walking stick. The Doctor: Father Christmas. He stepped out and closed the door, looking down proudly to Barnable.
“You waited.”
“You came back.”
“I did.” The Doctor ruffled Barnable’s hair and breathed in. Back in the truth field. “I would never, ever leave you, Barnable Hope.”
“If you’re not leaving, why did you bring it back?” asked Barnable.
“It’s a reminder. Besides, I might leave tomorrow.” The Doctor began walking back to the clock-tower. “Or the next day…” The truth field kept bugging him in his mind. There was something wrong with what he was saying, as if he didn’t quite believe it. That happened, sometimes. The truth field couldn’t quite stop you when you were lying to yourself, but it let you know something was wrong. Maybe, the Doctor thought, he would never-
“Or the day after that…”
NEXT TIME: THE POWER OF LOVE(Co-written by the Genie and Jack Hudson)
There is no monster, no invasion. No threat. No enemy. Instead, the Doctor is faced with something far, far worse. Madame Kovarian has returned to Trenzalore - and she wants to talk. |
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