Chapter Text
Trawker's plan was simple.
Listen and watch as the Doctor's explained how to repair his spaceship over the cameras. Impersonate the Doctor, take his ship, escape this planet. He never should have been left here, not with the common scum. This was his chance to rectify matters. Defiance in the face of abandonment.
The humans, the Doctor's friends, were a complication. But he needed to go to the lab to get the reactor for the ship. He wouldn't be able to build one himself-even his vast intelligence had limits. The humans were nothing he couldn't handle. They were bright and dumb and eager and ready to follow the Doctor's every move. He could command them as easily as he commanded his platoon, simply with a softer touch. When the time came, when they'd arrived at the TARDIS, the twin laser guns holstered inside the environmental suit would be more than sufficient to take care of them. Better yet, sacrifice them to the Joams if they ran into any. He was armed to the teeth. Grenades in his trousers. Knives sheathed in his uniform shirt. Nothing was standing between him and freedom.
Trawker looked over the surprised humans, giving them a moment to take him in.
He noticed a trace of disbelief in their manner, a slight scowl from the young man-Ryan-he reminded himself-arms akimbo on the woman. He needed to win them over, just as the Doctor had. As all of the Doctors had. " Ryan, Graham, Yaz, it's me. I've got the oxygen-15 canister right here, and we are ready to go. Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long." He added a goofy smile, trying to endear them.
"You changed again." Yaz didn't move. She studied him up and down, performing a careful inspection. "What happened?"
"Had an accidental radiation exposure when I was preparing the oxygen-15. Enough to cause a radiation burn, triggering another change. Good thing you didn't come with."
"Was Pasha exposed? Is she okay?"
"She's fine," Trawker said, feeling a sliver of remorse for the corpse he'd left in the command base. He shoved it away.
"Where's Norven?" asked Graham. "He said he was coming back."
"No need to. Captain wanted to talk to them further." He tried to copy the quick speech of the last two Doctors. "Captain and I, we had a nice talk, straightened out everything. But he wants us to leave at once." He reached for the reactor. He needed to get them off the base before they started getting suspicious. "Ryan and Graham, carry this. Everyone ready?"
Ryan and Graham moved to pick up the reactor, but Yaz kept watching the Doctor. This one was smaller, less imposing than his three predecessors. He had all the grandiosity she'd come to expect, but his eyes lacked their usual warmth. She felt herself holding back, unwilling to follow him. She thought of her disbelief when he'd first changed and his dejection at their distance from them. She glanced at Ryan and Graham, who regarded the Doctor with reserved acceptance.
What was the worst that could happen, she thought? She wouldn't be able to get off this planet without him. Besides, none of the Doctors they'd met had been dangerous-well, not dangerous to them, specifically.
"Yaz, are you coming?" the Doctor asked. The lab door was open, and he stood at the threshold, waiting impatiently. He smiled at her, and it felt like a chill through her soul. There was something she couldn't place in that smile that felt almost sinister. But Ryan and Graham were looking at her expectantly, and she didn't know how to explain her reluctance.
"Sure, just want to get something." She ran to the workbench and grabbed one of the spare electrospears. "We need all the defense we can get against the Joams."
"Very good," the Doctor said but the slight dismay in her expression at her grabbing a weapon did not go unnoticed. She tried to assure herself it would be fine but found herself unable to shake off her discomfort.
--
In the command center, pain throbbed at the Doctor's temples, a steady pulse of agony. He opened his eyes to a grey blur, then blinked to refocus. A tiled metal ceiling several meters in front of him. What was a ceiling doing there? That's not where it belonged.
Right. He was laying on the floor. It came back to him; he'd been shot. By the Captain. Incredibly rude, shooting him in greeting. He noticed the crawling on his skin was no more than a low hum. Had he changed again?
"Only one way to find out," he spoke aloud. A Northern accent, confirming his suspicions. Straining with effort, he slowly pushed himself upright, propping himself by leaning back on his arms. He was still in the command center. The bodies of Pasha and Norven were strewn out ahead of him. Twisting his head around there, was no sign of Trawker. He tried to stand up, but his legs refused to obey him, and he slumped to the floor. The de-aging sickness was getting exponentially worse. Not only that, but Trawker had also changed him into some kind of short trousers that only came to his knees.
No. These were his trousers. Her trousers. The ones he'd been wearing when he came in. Trawker had taken his environmental suit. Alarm bells rang through his mind. What else had he taken?
He patted his pockets. No sonic screwdriver. The reactor was gone too. The psychic paper was still there, not that it would do him any good.
His head was still swimming from the change, but the realization came through like a ship in a fog: Trawker was going to try stealing the TARDIS. He'd never get past the front door, let alone take off. But Trawker didn't seem like the sort of man that would let a few details get in his way. Or a few bodies, judging by the corpses on the floor. His friends were in danger. There was no time to waste. He tried standing up, only to collapse to the floor again.
Right. Another strategy. He crawled to the front door, pushing himself with his arms, the lower half of his body dead weight. His upper arms burned with pain by the time he got to the front door. Pressing the buttons on the left side, the access light turned red. He tried again without further success.
That wanker had locked him in here. What did he do now? He reached into his pocket for the sonic screwdriver. Blast, he'd forgotten Trawker had it!
He looked back at the console. It seemed light-years away. And even if he could get there, find a way to override the code, it would take him an eternity to catch up with Trawker. He couldn't tell how long he'd been out. The backwardness of this universe interfered with his ability to tell how much time had passed. There was very little chance of stopping him.
But he had to take it. No matter what happened, he had to stop Trawker from harming his friends.
He began the agonizing half crawl back to the control panel. With a loud grunt, he hoisted himself up onto a chair, hoping his legs would get some function back soon. He rested his hands head in his hands for a moment, willing his brain to calm, to work, to focus. Typing a few commands, he reviewed the display. The TARDIS had translated everything into a language he could use, but his brain was still reeling, trying to make sense of it. There had to be an override for the doors somewhere. He checked other options, trying to work through the murk of his mind.
There it was! Mass evacuation used to open all the doors in this sector. The downside was fewer barriers between him and any remaining Joams. But he couldn't think of another solution, and he was running out of time. In his current state, he was defenseless against the Joams. His best defense, besides running, was running his mouth and keeping the enemy distracted, which he doubted would work on giant space cockroaches. He looked around the command center, using a rolling chair to propel himself around. He found grenades, four globes the size of an orange, stashing them in his pocket. One should have enough kaboom to take out a wall. He'd use them as a last resort. As the door whooshed open, he rolled out of the command center. He'd regained a shred of control in his legs, and could move, in tiny bits, down the corridor. Finally, something was working out.
Until one of the wheels broke, sending the offending wheel went flying off towards the wall and stopping the chair with a squeal of metal against the floor.
Letting out a string of Gallifreyan curse words, the Doctor pushed himself off the chair. He could stand, at least, though his legs were weak and shaky. If he stood long enough without moving, he would recover quickly. But long enough was not an option. He forged ahead, putting a hand to the wall for support, and occasionally stumbling.
--
Yaz kept a close eye on the Doctor as they headed towards the base entrance. His speech was clipped, almost cross. A single-minded arrow to their departure, he had not stopped once to investigate anything. She told herself he was in a hurry to get off the base, per the Captain's instructions, but since when did the Doctor listen to authority figures about anything?
"Does something seem off about the Doctor to you?" She whispered to Ryan.
"No more so than usual," he replied in a low voice, grunting a bit as he carried the reactor. Despite its size, the reactor was quite heavy. "They've all got their own personalities. Why should this one be any different?"
"I don't know, but this one gives me the creeps." Yaz kept one eye on him, not to attract his attention.
"Think you've been shaken up a little," Graham said. "With the big bugs and the soldiers being killed and all that. We're almost done here. We'll be safe soon." He gave her a reassuring smile.
Yaz tried to smile back, but it faltered.
At the entrance to the base, the Doctor commanded the humans to quickly put on their helmets. He looked impatient, but in a way that suggested they were an inconvenience, rather than his eagerly awaiting the next adventure.
Yaz held her helmet, feeling the smooth surface in her hands. She didn't know if she trusted this Doctor with her life. She had to remind herself she hadn't trusted her Doctor at first either, but she couldn't bring herself to put on the helmet. In her brief career as a cop, the most important thing she learned (besides not pissing off her precinct captain) was to trust her gut. And her gut was headed in the opposite direction of this man.
"Yaz, helmet on." The Doctor's tone was sharp. "We need to get out there, and soon. We don't know when the Joams will be back."
"I know. I just worry. What if your nuclear reactor doesn't work? Then what do we do?"
The Doctor gave her another smile, flashing enough teeth to look predatory. "Don't worry about a thing. When we get to the TARDIS, I'll have it up and running in no time."
Yaz let the words wash over her for a moment. In a low voice, she said to Ryan and Graham. "The Doctor never calls the TARDIS 'it'."
"You're right," Graham said. He flashed back to what she'd told him before: Don't call her a thing, Graham.
"So?" Ryan said. "Maybe he just slipped. Or this Doctor does call the TARDIS 'it'." He'd already clipped on his helmet.
"It's not just that. There's something about him that's almost...malicious" She moved closer to them." "He was so abrupt about the Captain and Pasha and Norven. He's barely spoken of them, and the Doctor likes to talk about everyone."
"Our Doctor doesn't." Graham pointed out. "There's a lot of questions she won't answer."
Although she had to admit that was true, Yaz was undeterred. "What if this is some kind of evil incarnation of the Doctor? Or because he changed so much in a short amount of time, he turned evil?"
Ryan looked doubtful, but Graham's expression softened. "Then what do we do? We can't get off this planet without the Doc."
Just then, the Doctor strode over, shaking his head. "We should have left already. What are you all standing here for?"
Yaz caught Graham's eye as she spoke. "Well, Doctor, we were just talking, and um, you've changed. I know. You've changed a lot. And we noticed when you change, your brain gets scrambled and you forget things. So maybe we should wait here a few minutes and make sure you're okay, to fly the TARDIS and all that." She didn't know what waiting would accomplish, but it would give her time to stall and think of something else. Graham, getting the gist of what she was trying to do, nodded in agreement.
The Doctor, however, did not agree. "What nonsense is this? I'm perfectly fine to fly the TARDIS." he scoffed, chin in the air.
"Maybe we should ask you some questions. Sometimes you forget things." Graham used his best congenial tone. He'd had years of practice with drunks on late night routes. "Like how big is the TARDIS?"
"I don't remember the exact length." the Doctor answered. "I'm sure it's in the specs."
He and Yaz exchanged a look. They didn't think the TARDIS even had specs. "How many seats in the console room?" They'd asked her about seats once, and she'd waved them off saying she had no control over the configuration.
"It's adjustable," he replied, but he looked flustered. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead.
"Are you even the Doctor?" Yaz stepped forward, emboldened. Something was not right with this man.
"Of course I am!" he cried. "I know all of you, I know the TARDIS. Look, I've got the sonic!" He whipped it out, making it buzz.
"Do you remember anything about us?" Graham said. He thought of what the previous Doctor had known about him, the older one (he certainly would not think of, let alone refer to, Eyebrows as old). "Seems like you're not yourself, Doctor."
"Does it matter?" the Doctor's face reddened with anger. "You're just along for the ride! Get your helmet on or I"m leaving you here!"
The Doctor-the Doctor she knew-did not say things like that. Yaz stood firm, crossing her arms. "We went to visit my grandmother. What's her name?"
"We don't have time for this trivia! What's the point? She's not important."
"My grandmother's name, Doctor." Yaz dripped the last word in venom. "What is it?"
"Her name is Umbreen." A voice shouted from down the hall.
Everyone turned around to look. A dark-haired man, in a grey coat and navy striped top, was staggering towards them, leaning against the wall as if he were drunk. "Her name is Umbreen. We went to her wedding, August 18th, 1947, the first woman married in Pakistan." Despite his considerable anguish, he grinned at them as he approached.
"Doctor." Yaz felt awash in a mix of relief and vindication. This was the real Doctor. But who was this? "What happened?"
"Him." he glared at the ersatz Doctor. "Trawker, don't even think about taking my ship. She wouldn't even let you in the door, much less fly her!"
The humans whipped back to face him. "The captain?" Graham said. "But...why?"
For a moment, Trawler looked as though he would deny everything. But then he exploded in a ball of rage. "Because I didn't want to be abandoned. Again!" His lips curled in a snarl. "I found the scientists' notes. There is no alternative energy source! They knew it! But rather than telling us, they left in search of another habitable planet, like a bunch of cowards. They left us all here to die! I don't deserve that!"
"No, you don't." Within arm's length now, the Doctor teetered forward, like a baby learning to walk. Ryan put out an arm to support him. A moment of sympathy passed through his face before his features hardened. "But no more than your command deserved to be murdered."
Ignoring the humans' shock, Trawker drew himself up, coming head to head with the Doctor. "They would have only interfered. Besides, they weren't important."
"That's where you're wrong, Trawker," The Doctor said. "They were important. So are my friends. So is Yaz's noni. Everyone is important."
"Good to know," Trawker's lips curled in an evil smile as he reached out and grabbed Yaz. Pulling out a laser gun, he held it to her head. "You're going to take me to your ship and the planet of my choice, or she gets it. Something with a tropical atmosphere, I think. I heard your friends talking, seems like you have your choice of destinations, don't you?"
Yaz stood calm, but there was a tremble in her voice. "Don't do it, Doctor! Don't let this psycho anywhere near the TARDIS!"
The Doctor froze for a moment. An impossible choice. If he made the wrong move, Yaz died. If he tried putting himself in harm's way, Trawker would blast him again, and he'd be out of commission for even longer. But a plan sparked in the back of his mind, and he tried not to smile. He just had to get the man talking.
"Give it up, Doctor. I've won." Trawker gloated. " I've got the reactor and the oxygen canister, and I'm heavily armed. You've got no weapons, no tools, no help, you can't even stand up on your own. What are you going to do?"
'Get away from that Joam bug coming for us!" He let his eyes widen in fright as he took a step back.
"What?! Where?!" Keeping his grip on Yaz, Trawker turned around, only to see an empty space. As he did, the Doctor reached for the back of his neck, putting him in a hold. With a chop to the back, Trakwer let go of Yaz as he fell to the floor in an unconscious heap.
"Vensusian aikido saves the day again," The Doctor stood over Trawker. "Did you lot really think he was me?"
Ryan shook his head. "Trawker didn't have me fooled for a minute."
Yaz gave him a playful slap. "Oi! You were following right after him!"
"I was just goin' along with it," Ryan protested.
"Good to have you back, Doc." Graham smiled. "Are you able to walk?"
"Getting better." The Doctor grinned again. "Let's get my suit off this wanker and out of here before he wakes up."
--
It was a relief to be back in the TARDIS again, the Doctor thought, in more ways than one. The skin crawling stopped the moment he walked in. The TARDIS must be acting as an interrupt to the backward of this universe. Aboard the TARDIS, time still moved forwards. In a way, he hated to leave this behind. It was among the more incredible phenomena he'd witnessed. The four of them would be the only ones who had traveled to a place where time ran backward, and in a few decades, no one else would even have the chance.
After checking the fittings and connections for the reactor one last time, he walked up to the console room. He'd been a little slower than usual on the walk back from the base, but now he was in as good shape as he'd ever been.
The overhead lights gave a single flash in greeting as he entered the console room. His friends were sitting on the console room stairs, chatting with each other. They'd taken off the environmental suits and helmets when they'd come aboard, but the Doctor had kept his on, a suitable cover for rainbows and braces. He didn't feel like himself in that. He had the dark jumpers and the leather jacket stashed away in his personal wardrobe, but it remained to be seen if he'd be needing them again.
He addressed his friends. "Patched in the reactor. Oxygen-15 is loaded. Let's give it a go."
"Are you sure it's going to work?" Ryan said.
"Not completely sure of anything," he said. "Where's the fun in that?" But there was another question, he could tell by their lingering stares.
"If we get back to our universe, are you still going to be...you?" asked Yaz.
He shrugged. "I don't know. There's a possibility through symmetric temporal instability I'll change back to her, but I might be stuck like this. I'll get back to her eventually. The long way around. For once I'll know who's coming. But again, not as much fun that way." He hesitated before he ventured the next question. "Is that all right?"
"Of course we will," Yaz said quickly, and Ryan nodded in agreement. But he could see the doubt in their expressions.
Graham, unable to meet the Doctor's eyes, was more forthcoming. "I miss her. Never thought I'd say that."
A lump formed in the Doctor's throat. So typical of humans. It was hard for them to see past the physical. Some of his companions left when he changed. Most of them stayed, but he found his relationships with them transformed as much as his body.
He surveyed again, one more time, and managed to get out: "No matter what happens, you were all fantastic." He bit his lip, thinking of the last time he'd said those words, or something like them, so many years ago. Without further ceremony, he pulled the console lever.
The console room lit up as the engines came to life. The Doctor felt their hum, every piece of machinery performing its assigned task, working in harmony. It was working. Elation filled him like a helium balloon. The console readings were still displaying gibberish, but he could work it out, reverse engineer it to where he needed to go. Just a few more buttons and…
With a sudden jerk, everyone was knocked to the floor. The lights flashed as the cloister bell rang overhead, filling the air with ominous rings. The ship rocked again, and the humans looked for something to grab, a pillar, or a stair riser. Then a yellow light filled the console room blindingly bright. Ryan closed his eyes and looked away, despite the light being followed by a prolonged, ear-splitting scream. The Doctor. Whatever was happening to him sounded far worse than what he'd experienced with the de-aging. Had the trip back to their universe been too much?
Then, as suddenly as the screaming began, it stopped, a deafening silence filling the air. Smoke rose from the console again, but only on a few select panels. He looked over to Graham and Yaz, who were dusting themselves off, apparently unharmed. But where was the Doctor?
They all gathered around to the other side of the console. Relief flooded them as they saw the blonde woman they knew lying on the floor. Her hair was tousled in every direction and her face smudged with soot, but she was smiling.
"Fam!" she cried.
"Doctor! You're back!" Ryan was elated.
Graham reached out to pull her up. She took his hand, only to be pulled up into a hug, joined by Ryan and Yaz. She stiffened only for a moment before hugging them back.
"Are you all right?" asked Graham. You look like a mess."
"Oi! You try aging 2000 years in five minutes and see how you look." Stepping back, she looked at the displays. "It worked. We're back in our universe. But we're almost out of power." She ran her hands over the console, delight sparkling in her eyes. "But we have just enough to go for a refill."
--
The Doctor parked the TARDIS in the center of 2019 Cardiff, and explained to her friends about the rift in space-time that provided a source of fuel. "It'll take a few hours. If you want to do some sightseeing, or go for tea, you won't be missing anything here." Unzipping her environmental suit, she tossed it on the steps. "Go on then. Won't leave without ya."
Graham perked up and started for the door, but Yaz touched his arm, stopping him. She searched the Doctor's face as if looking for signs of her former selves' scars. "Doctor, the other yous. You mentioned some things about your past."
"Yep. Past mes, like to flap their gums." Her smile remained bright, but her eyes looked haunted. "Nothing you need to worry about. Forget what they said."
"I can't." There was a sharp edge to Yaz's tone. She'd been so close to understanding the Doctor better, only to be pushed back. "We're your friends, Doctor."
The Time Lord's shoulders sagged. She looked down at the console, absent-mindedly fiddling with a knob. "The things they said...it happened a long time ago." She'd tried so hard to protect her friends, spare them her baggage, the blood on her hands, only to be done by her blabbermouth predecessors. She remained frozen in place like a deer in headlights. If she was still enough, they'd move on.
But Yaz wasn't moving. She could see the creases in the Doctor's forehead, her tension manifest. She wanted to ask her about everything. The Time Lords, the war, whoever Bill was. But before she could say anything else, Graham tapped her on the shoulder.
"It's been a long day, Yaz. Nearly got killed a bunch of times. We should eat," he said.
She shot him a glare-could he stop thinking about food for five minutes?!-but he continued, "New body, new start, right Doc?" The blonde gave him a tentative nod. "The way I see it, the Doc's given all of us a new start. Let's return the favor, at least for now."
Despite her frustration with the Doctor, she had to agree with that. She thought of where they'd been, not in the universe, but in life. Ryan, abandoned by his father. Herself, the runaway misfit. Graham beating the odds for life and love even before he faced his first alien. And how they'd all come together to be loved and accepted, no matter who they were.
"Okay," she said. "But Doctor, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here."
"Same goes for me," Ryan added
"That's right," Graham chimed in. "There's no better listener than a bus driver."
Ryan rolled his eyes. "He always says that."
"Thank you so much, fam, I will. But I'll be okay, promise," the Doctor said. "Why don't you go to tea? The TARDIS should be fueled up by the time you get back, and then I can take you home."
The Doctor leaned against the console, watching as the humans filed out. She breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed. Yaz had been unusually insistent this time, wanting to know about the past she'd worked so hard to protect them from. It was a good thing they were going home after this. Next time, she'd whisk them off to another amazing planet, and they'd have too good a time to ask intrusive questions.
She smiled, turning back to the console, plotting out their next adventure. But there was one thought she couldn't get out of her head: regardless of the universe, the past had a way of catching up with her.