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Hold onto hope if you got it
Don't let it go for nobody
And they say that dreaming is free
But I wouldn't care what it cost me
-26 by Paramore
When he started telling me about his plan, I almost didn’t believe he was seriously considering it.
He showed up at my door one morning to tell me about it. Literally. I stepped out of the flat, and there he was, waiting for me.
“Hello, Bill!” he said with a cheery smile.
I jumped out of my skin, but the Doctor didn’t even seem to notice. “How long have you been waiting out here?”
He shrugged. “A little over an hour.” He nodded to the door next to mine. “The woman who lives there is very nice, brought me a cup of tea.”
I shook my head and started walking. The Doctor matched my strides and began telling me about his hopes for Missy, how he wanted to give her a test to see if she had truly changed.
I couldn’t even comprehend how he could imagine letting her loose like that. “That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” I told him. I knew he cared about Missy for some strange reason, but I didn’t want him to be determined to do this, so I didn’t sugarcoat it.
Because when the Doctor is determined to do something, he always gets his way.
He tried to make a point out of my bacon sandwich, but really, it didn’t even compare. These were real people, people who could get hurt because of this.
A couple days passed. He talked about it every chance he got. I didn’t stop telling him how terrible of an idea it was.
Then he finally told me that I had a part in his plan too.
I didn’t understand how he would be so willing to place me right in harm’s way; he was always so anxious to protect me, to make sure I didn’t get hurt. None of this made any sense.
Then I realised that this not only had to do with Missy, but with the Doctor himself. He needed to believe that he could be good, that he could always come back to being good, no matter what happened. Though I couldn’t even begin to understand, I could start to see his point of view. I started to pity him.
I realised then that he wasn’t going to give up.
I told him I would do it. He grinned like a maniac and said that we were going somewhere to celebrate. Dinner in Rio.
“I know a great place,” he said.
It ended up being fast food, of all things; I should’ve known. But it made me laugh. It reminded me that, while I had been arguing with the Doctor for days, these were the reasons why I still hung around him. His silly mission wasn’t going to change that. It was the hope that helped me see past the ridiculous plan: that after all of this was said and done, things would go back to how they used to be.
The Doctor opened up to me a little. He told me about some of his history with Missy, and I could understand a little more. It was interesting; it was the only time he had willingly told me stories of his past, and enjoyed it too. I’d like to think it’s because he knows he can tell me anything, but really I know he was just so eager for me to see his point of view. And I did, I really did. But I was still worried.
“She scares me.”
I couldn’t help but say it. Confessing my fear wasn’t easy, especially since the Doctor had just started pouring his heart (hearts?) out about his childhood friend. But once again, I couldn’t sugarcoat it. This was my life, Nardole’s life, innocent people’s lives on the line for the sake of this experiment.
The Doctor looked disappointed, but he still seemed like he understood. I think that, really, he was scared of her too.
“Just promise you won’t get me killed.”
That was all I wanted to hear: just a confirmation that he would make good on his promise to keep me safe. He didn’t promise. He said he would try. It was something, but not enough.
Even as I laughed and talked with the Doctor on that rooftop, I couldn’t help but think that this was a very bad idea.
In the matter of a few minutes into the Doctor’s experiment, I found myself looking down the barrel of some sort of space gun. I held my hands in the air, knowing that this wouldn’t have happened if the Doctor had been here instead of Missy. I didn’t know how it would have been different, it just would have.
The terror in the man’s eyes was almost tangible, and I had no doubt that he really would shoot me. I didn’t blame him; I had been there before too. But there was someone I did blame.
“You know what, Doctor?” I couldn’t help but saying as I knew my end might be very near. “I said this was a bad idea.”
But the Doctor was not going to be told “I told you so” so easily. He began talking to the man. Seriously, I don’t know how he does it. I don’t know how he grabs people’s attention so easily, makes them believe him when they have no idea who he is.
Slowly, I began to let my guard down. I breathed a deep sigh of relief as the Doctor got closer to the man. I was going to be okay. It had been a narrow one but the Doctor—
Then there was pain.
Doctor.
He was my last conscious thought, a mix of something between anger, frustration, and yes, still love for my best friend.
Wait for me.
It was my waking thought. At first I thought the Doctor was there, and in that moment I forgot all about anger. I wanted him, needed him.
I was dead. I was terrified.
But he was only an illusion; yet, one he must have placed in my mind, surely. Yes, it had to have been the Doctor’s doing.
I felt an unfamiliar weight on my chest. In a moment of panic, I saw the outline of a rectangular box pressing against the fabric of my hospital gown. Was this all a nightmare? Was I still dead?
And yet I knew very well that I wasn’t. How? My heart was gone.
I got up and wandered around. The people covered from head to foot in grey scared me. They were all crying out in pain, every second of their existence. I pitied them, but I knew I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t even know who or what they were.
Then I properly met Mr. Razor. He was really odd, but somehow inviting too. There was something familiar about him, something you trusted in his eyes. He showed me the telly where I could watch the Doctor on the other end of the ship and explained the time difference.
When I had first thought over the Doctor’s message to wait, I had thought it might be a day, maybe a week.
But it was then that I realised it would take a very, very long time.
I couldn’t be angry at the Doctor. The time difference wasn’t his fault, anyway, and I wanted him here now more than hated him. The hospital was just plain creepy, and its matron was no better. I felt a rising sense of suppressed panic the more I saw the people covered in grey.
When Mr. Razor told me I would become one of those things, I almost lost hope in the Doctor.
But the Doctor always told me that hope was dangerous, but necessary.
So I held on to hope. After a year passed, I lost track of time. I watched the Doctor move the tiniest bit every day until I finally realised that he was coming to rescue me.
That’s when I was betrayed.
It hurt. It hurt a lot, especially after all the sweet things Mr. Razor had tried to say. He had been my only friend, and I had trusted him completely.
That was another thing the Doctor had said. Trust no one.
Not even you? I’d asked him at the time, joking.
He had given me a look that was far from jocular. Especially not me.
When I realised that my time was finally up, that I had waited as long as I could, I think that’s when I finally understood what he meant by that.
I couldn’t fight back. They were too strong. All of my hope was dead, my heart was broken, and now I was going to be subjected to a fate worse than death.
I said from the beginning it was a stupid idea.