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Not The Last. (6/6)
And here's the last part. Except - over the weekend this story suddenly sprouted the most fabulous epilogue. I always felt that the ending was more like a beginning, and I was right! I'll post the epilogue (with notes) tomorrow. :)
For now, I hope you enjoy this. Previous chapters here.
Setting: AU-post 'Sound of Drums'. (8 years later now...)
Spoilers: S3! (Also won't make sense if you haven't seen S3.)
Rating: PG.
Characters (in this part): The Doctor, the Master, Lucy, OC.
Thank you's: To![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathyh for the look-through.
Feedback: Pretty please?
Part 6
April 2015
It was one of those evenings where Lucy could almost fool herself into thinking that her life was normal.
Almost.
Her son was asleep upstairs, and Harry and the Doctor were having a cup of tea after a nice dinner, chatting amicably, as though they were ordinary friends, and the Doctor had just come round for a pleasant evening. As though her husband wasn’t a prisoner, and wouldn’t leave her house again tomorrow morning, not returning for another month. But for a few hours she could pretend...
And then normal evaporated.
The Master shot the Doctor one of those looks, and said: “He’s almost eight.”
The Doctor appeared unconcerned. “Oh yes, he wants one of those 3D Wii games and a trip to Betelgeuse. Tried to explain that he won’t be seeing Ford or Zaphod there, but...”
The Master didn’t reply.
There was a pause as the Doctor shifted uncomfortably. “Earth years are shorter...”
“He will be eight!”
“And it’s gone! The Schism is no longer, and good riddance!” The Doctor was suddenly impassioned.
The Master didn’t even flinch. “Make a new one!”
Another pause as the Doctor’s eyes widened. “What? You - you want me to create a gap in the fabric of reality for the sake of scarring one little boy for the rest of his life? After what it did to you, how can you possibly ask for that?”
The Master’s face was like flint, not a hint of the sarcasm or slippery wit that he usually hid behind. “He is a Timelord! The vortex is his right!”
The Doctor got up, furious. “No. Not even if I could.”
When he was by the door, the Master spoke again, voice more quiet than Lucy could ever remember.
“Please.”
The Doctor stopped and turned. A long silence followed, as the Timelords looked at each other, and Lucy didn’t know what to think. She just knew that suddenly she feared for her son. Feared for what these aliens would do to him. Feared who he was - and what he might become.
*
‘I can’t believe I’m doing this.’
It was dark. The purple-blue grass of the field shone orange in the flickering golden light from the torches, and the sensory memories were almost immobilising the Doctor. The way the stiff, tall collar cut out half his vision didn't help - the Master had insisted on official robes, knowing full well that the Doctor had several in his wardrobe, hidden away right at the back... Yes, the Master really did love the classics, if it was countdown clocks or wearing appropriate costumes. Although of course the Doctor had had to have Alex's outfit specially made...
As they slowly made their way toward the Schism, the Doctor wondered if he'd ever forgive himself for what he was doing - just looking at the boy's slim little form brought home yet again what a traitor he was.
He glanced sideways at the Master, but his face was unreadable. Did he know what this had cost the Doctor? Quite probably, but he would never acknowledge it. And again the Doctor tried to work out why he was doing this...
For nearly eight years the Master had been his prisoner, and not once in those years had he asked for anything. The Master complained, the Master demanded, the Master let his wishes be known - but only once had he used the word 'please' - only once shown any vulnerability at all.
And... there was the fact that they were both at a loss as how to teach the boy about who - what - he was. Their ancestry, their home, was so deeply ingrained in them that they had both rebelled against it, wanting something different from life. But now there was only a void, and no story or lesson could ever encapsulate what Gallifrey had been.
And this - this ritual, as barbaric in its own way as any other initiation rite of any of the peoples in the galaxies, was the only thread that had not been severed completely. So the Doctor had taken it, despite everything; because he knew that there was probably a reason, now lost in the mists of time, why the Timelords had settled for this particular ceremony. So he put his trust in the home now gone, in ancestors he had once shunned. Held out his hand to them and hoped against hope that they would not fail his charge.
They came to a halt, and Alex looked from one to the other, unsure.
"Go on son," the Master said gently, and the boy swallowed and stepped forward.
Silence followed as he slowly walked up to the Schism. The Doctor wasn't aware of holding his breath, but he almost gasped for air as Alexander finally turned.
"I saw it all..."
There was wonder and awe in his voice, and he slowly lifted his head, looking from the Master to the Doctor.
"I... I can see it still... all of time and space... everything that was, everything that will ever be - the vortex - it's in my head!"
He stared ahead, eyes unseeing, before his face suddenly split in a wide grin.
"This is so cool!"
The Doctor blinked; reeling. "Cool?"
"Yeah! It's totally amazing! There's so much there... so much to see and find and discover and understand..."
He was almost bouncing, excitement radiating off his entire body. Then he took a deep breath.
"My name will be... the Seeker. Yes, that is who I am." Running to the Master he laughed. "Do you like it Daddy? Do you like my name?"
"I love it!" the Master replied, lifting him up and swinging him round, a wide grin on his face. "Let's go tell your mother!"
The Master walked back to the TARDIS, happily listening to the endless stream of ideas his son was reeling off, as the Doctor extinguished the torches.
And all he could think was, “I didn’t destroy him. He’s OK. He didn’t turn into his father.”
*
The little house looked as cosy and welcoming as an advert for Werther's Originals, but the Doctor knew Lucy had been waiting, terrified. The relief on her face when her son rushed into her arms, beaming, did much to calm the Doctor's residual guilt.
"Mummy! It was brilliant! I saw everything - like everything ever - and I decided that my name is the Seeker! Because I'm going to seek out the truth of things, see? I'm going to find all the answers to everything, and discover lots and lots of new things. Being a Timelord is the best thing ever!"
The Doctor smiled, seeing Lucy's overwhelmed face. "Now, now, Seeker, you don't have to do it all today you know!"
"Doctor..." The boy bit his lip, thinking hard. "My next project is cellular mutations, isn't it? Can I study cancer? That's what grandad died of, isn't it Mummy? I'm sure I could invent a cure, and then other people's grandparents wouldn't die, and that'd be brilliant! If I could borrow-”
The Doctor shook his head vehemently. "Oh no no no! No interfering in the development of humans. Especially not medicine or technology!"
"Oh..."
The boy's face fell, before brightening again a second later.
"What about making my own Millenium Falcon? Daddy said he'd help me, and I think I could work out how to make a real hyperdrive. And I wouldn't show it to anyone, honestly!" Then, seeing the look on the Doctor’s face, he sighed. "Oh but I wouldn't be allowed to fly it, would I?"
Suddenly his eyes grew wide. "Can I make a flying horse? That's possible, right? And I know how to ride already, so I'd just need to work out how to connect the wing muscles properly - oh and I’ll need to make sure the wings are strong enough, maybe I can make the bones like a pterodactyl’s..."
The Doctor dragged a hand across his face. He was suddenly remembering with vivid clarity all of the Rani's single-minded experiments and research, and wondered briefly if she and the Master had been related.
‘He couldn’t have been one of those who ran away?’ he thought to himself, tiredly. Holding the boy back had been fraught and difficult so far - now it would be nigh on impossible...
When he looked up, he found the Master studying him, a small superior smile on his face and a strangely triumphant look in his eyes.
"The one thing you can't do - Doctor - is stop him thinking!"
*****
(There are always consequences. The first ones are told in this story: Big Brother.)
For now, I hope you enjoy this. Previous chapters here.
Setting: AU-post 'Sound of Drums'. (8 years later now...)
Spoilers: S3! (Also won't make sense if you haven't seen S3.)
Rating: PG.
Characters (in this part): The Doctor, the Master, Lucy, OC.
Thank you's: To
kathyh for the look-through.Feedback: Pretty please?
April 2015
It was one of those evenings where Lucy could almost fool herself into thinking that her life was normal.
Almost.
Her son was asleep upstairs, and Harry and the Doctor were having a cup of tea after a nice dinner, chatting amicably, as though they were ordinary friends, and the Doctor had just come round for a pleasant evening. As though her husband wasn’t a prisoner, and wouldn’t leave her house again tomorrow morning, not returning for another month. But for a few hours she could pretend...
And then normal evaporated.
The Master shot the Doctor one of those looks, and said: “He’s almost eight.”
The Doctor appeared unconcerned. “Oh yes, he wants one of those 3D Wii games and a trip to Betelgeuse. Tried to explain that he won’t be seeing Ford or Zaphod there, but...”
The Master didn’t reply.
There was a pause as the Doctor shifted uncomfortably. “Earth years are shorter...”
“He will be eight!”
“And it’s gone! The Schism is no longer, and good riddance!” The Doctor was suddenly impassioned.
The Master didn’t even flinch. “Make a new one!”
Another pause as the Doctor’s eyes widened. “What? You - you want me to create a gap in the fabric of reality for the sake of scarring one little boy for the rest of his life? After what it did to you, how can you possibly ask for that?”
The Master’s face was like flint, not a hint of the sarcasm or slippery wit that he usually hid behind. “He is a Timelord! The vortex is his right!”
The Doctor got up, furious. “No. Not even if I could.”
When he was by the door, the Master spoke again, voice more quiet than Lucy could ever remember.
“Please.”
The Doctor stopped and turned. A long silence followed, as the Timelords looked at each other, and Lucy didn’t know what to think. She just knew that suddenly she feared for her son. Feared for what these aliens would do to him. Feared who he was - and what he might become.
‘I can’t believe I’m doing this.’
It was dark. The purple-blue grass of the field shone orange in the flickering golden light from the torches, and the sensory memories were almost immobilising the Doctor. The way the stiff, tall collar cut out half his vision didn't help - the Master had insisted on official robes, knowing full well that the Doctor had several in his wardrobe, hidden away right at the back... Yes, the Master really did love the classics, if it was countdown clocks or wearing appropriate costumes. Although of course the Doctor had had to have Alex's outfit specially made...
As they slowly made their way toward the Schism, the Doctor wondered if he'd ever forgive himself for what he was doing - just looking at the boy's slim little form brought home yet again what a traitor he was.
He glanced sideways at the Master, but his face was unreadable. Did he know what this had cost the Doctor? Quite probably, but he would never acknowledge it. And again the Doctor tried to work out why he was doing this...
For nearly eight years the Master had been his prisoner, and not once in those years had he asked for anything. The Master complained, the Master demanded, the Master let his wishes be known - but only once had he used the word 'please' - only once shown any vulnerability at all.
And... there was the fact that they were both at a loss as how to teach the boy about who - what - he was. Their ancestry, their home, was so deeply ingrained in them that they had both rebelled against it, wanting something different from life. But now there was only a void, and no story or lesson could ever encapsulate what Gallifrey had been.
And this - this ritual, as barbaric in its own way as any other initiation rite of any of the peoples in the galaxies, was the only thread that had not been severed completely. So the Doctor had taken it, despite everything; because he knew that there was probably a reason, now lost in the mists of time, why the Timelords had settled for this particular ceremony. So he put his trust in the home now gone, in ancestors he had once shunned. Held out his hand to them and hoped against hope that they would not fail his charge.
They came to a halt, and Alex looked from one to the other, unsure.
"Go on son," the Master said gently, and the boy swallowed and stepped forward.
Silence followed as he slowly walked up to the Schism. The Doctor wasn't aware of holding his breath, but he almost gasped for air as Alexander finally turned.
"I saw it all..."
There was wonder and awe in his voice, and he slowly lifted his head, looking from the Master to the Doctor.
"I... I can see it still... all of time and space... everything that was, everything that will ever be - the vortex - it's in my head!"
He stared ahead, eyes unseeing, before his face suddenly split in a wide grin.
"This is so cool!"
The Doctor blinked; reeling. "Cool?"
"Yeah! It's totally amazing! There's so much there... so much to see and find and discover and understand..."
He was almost bouncing, excitement radiating off his entire body. Then he took a deep breath.
"My name will be... the Seeker. Yes, that is who I am." Running to the Master he laughed. "Do you like it Daddy? Do you like my name?"
"I love it!" the Master replied, lifting him up and swinging him round, a wide grin on his face. "Let's go tell your mother!"
The Master walked back to the TARDIS, happily listening to the endless stream of ideas his son was reeling off, as the Doctor extinguished the torches.
And all he could think was, “I didn’t destroy him. He’s OK. He didn’t turn into his father.”
The little house looked as cosy and welcoming as an advert for Werther's Originals, but the Doctor knew Lucy had been waiting, terrified. The relief on her face when her son rushed into her arms, beaming, did much to calm the Doctor's residual guilt.
"Mummy! It was brilliant! I saw everything - like everything ever - and I decided that my name is the Seeker! Because I'm going to seek out the truth of things, see? I'm going to find all the answers to everything, and discover lots and lots of new things. Being a Timelord is the best thing ever!"
The Doctor smiled, seeing Lucy's overwhelmed face. "Now, now, Seeker, you don't have to do it all today you know!"
"Doctor..." The boy bit his lip, thinking hard. "My next project is cellular mutations, isn't it? Can I study cancer? That's what grandad died of, isn't it Mummy? I'm sure I could invent a cure, and then other people's grandparents wouldn't die, and that'd be brilliant! If I could borrow-”
The Doctor shook his head vehemently. "Oh no no no! No interfering in the development of humans. Especially not medicine or technology!"
"Oh..."
The boy's face fell, before brightening again a second later.
"What about making my own Millenium Falcon? Daddy said he'd help me, and I think I could work out how to make a real hyperdrive. And I wouldn't show it to anyone, honestly!" Then, seeing the look on the Doctor’s face, he sighed. "Oh but I wouldn't be allowed to fly it, would I?"
Suddenly his eyes grew wide. "Can I make a flying horse? That's possible, right? And I know how to ride already, so I'd just need to work out how to connect the wing muscles properly - oh and I’ll need to make sure the wings are strong enough, maybe I can make the bones like a pterodactyl’s..."
The Doctor dragged a hand across his face. He was suddenly remembering with vivid clarity all of the Rani's single-minded experiments and research, and wondered briefly if she and the Master had been related.
‘He couldn’t have been one of those who ran away?’ he thought to himself, tiredly. Holding the boy back had been fraught and difficult so far - now it would be nigh on impossible...
When he looked up, he found the Master studying him, a small superior smile on his face and a strangely triumphant look in his eyes.
"The one thing you can't do - Doctor - is stop him thinking!"
(There are always consequences. The first ones are told in this story: Big Brother.)
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Yes, exactly. :) Although he had to actually beg, which cost him a awful lot! (And I loved having him throw The Doctor's words back at him! *g* I'm evil that way.)
I thought you'd enjoy this part especially, after I read your post - and I love the idea of The Doctor almost being overwhelmed by the futility of life when looking in the Schism.
Thank you muchly for finishing this.
My pleasure - although, there's more!!! (The epilogue is hugely, vastly different though. I hope you'll like!)
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Was that Rose as Bad Wolf at the end protecting his young mind ?
And will he be able to control fire as well like the in the book His Dark Materials, with the other seeker ?
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You'll find out tomorrow! ;)
Was that Rose as Bad Wolf at the end protecting his young mind ?
Huh? It was this (from SoD): The Doctor: You stand there, eight years old, staring at the raw power of time and space; just a child. Some would be inspired, some would run away, and some would go mad. Alex was inspired. (And it struck me as incredibly neat to have 'one of each' kind of Timelord. *g*)
And will he be able to control fire as well like the in the book His Dark Materials, with the other seeker ?
Oh I've not read those! And I'm not sure how good he'd be at catching a Golden Snitch either... (Lots of Seekers in lots of different fantasy works, I know. Alex might have been somewhat subconsciously influenced in his choice of name by his reading...)
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His friends will (later) tease him about it though... *g*
And I'm pleased Alex turned out okay - nice kid like that deserved a happy ending.
I thought it appropriate to have a Timelord that got inspired. :)
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Not that I'm saying I have skill, it's... a hobbyno subject
*blinks*
I don't think anyone's ever called me parental before. (Other than my children, naturally.) But - I shall happily encourage you!
And it probably won't be half a year, but if I say 'asap' it'll inevitably be forever before I get a chance.
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