Chapter Text
“No offence, Doctor,” Rory said from outside, his voice inflected in that way only Rory could manage: a horrible conflation of prudence and weariness. Somehow, the Doctor found himself smiling, despite it being almost everything he hated. Rory just had that power.
“Meaning the opposite-“
“But we could get a bus somewhere like this.”
“Really, but this is-“ The Doctor stepped outside, staring at the sight around him. This was London, definitely. Somewhere around…2007? Maybe a little earlier. His time sense was off. In fact, his time sense was going haywire. Synapses snapping to all the wrong places, desperately trying to find connections that weren’t there.
But his eyes didn’t lie.
“We need to turn around.”
“But I thought you said a child needed us?” Rory said.
“What’s wrong?” Amy immediately asked, taking a step closer, eyebrows furrowed. Now this was her look. The special look. The I know you look. The Doctor hated that look.
“This is the wrong place.”
“But you checked,” Rory said. “You said it was right.”
“It can’t be,” the Doctor breathed.
“What is it?” Amy reiterated, taking a step closer. “Doctor, you can tell us.”
“We can’t stay here.” The Doctor couldn’t move, like his whole body had been hit by a paralysis bomb (unpleasant things, never wanted to experience that again). His eyes scanned his surroundings, taking in the familiar tower blocks. The stench of garbage pervaded the streets, the sound of skateboards against concrete resonating through the alleyway. Just as it always had.
Lights flickered above. Ah, nighttime. Or…evening. The sun had set about, well, about an hour ago by his calculations, if his mind felt like telling the truth.
“Doctor, just tell me!”
“I can’t. Let’s go.”
Suddenly, the sound of skateboards evaporated. Or maybe it didn’t but the Doctor’s senses honed in on one thing. “We’ve got to go, now!”
“Doctor?” A voice called - god, he wanted nothing but to listen to that voice all day. “What are you doing back? You said you’d be a week.”
“Who’s that?” Amy said as the girl rounded the corner.
“Doct- what? Who are you?”
“Rose,” he breathed. “Well,” he said, clapping his hands together and spinning on his heels, taking himself back to the TARDIS, “welcome to the Powell Estate, Ponds. Time to go.”
“No! Wait a minute! Who are you?” Rose demanded.
“Who’s Rose?” Amy demanded at the same time. Oh god, this really wasn’t what he wanted.
“Does, um, does anyone feel like explaining this?” Rory asked, fidgeting in his place, like he was desperate to run towards Amy and was holding back for the sake of his own dignity.
“Let’s just go-“
“No!” Amy demanded. “You never run away. What’s going on?”
The Doctor stared at the blue wood of the TARDIS and let his head clunk against its warmth. Sometimes he wished it was just him and his TARDIS. His TARDIS didn’t create paradoxes and time loops and intervention. At least not normally. And it didn’t complain…usually. And it wasn’t as stubborn! Except, sometimes it was.
Okay maybe the TARDIS was just as bad.
But! At least the TARDIS couldn’t show it as easily.
Women. They’d be the death of him. (And maybe that’s why he loved them so much).
In the intervening silence, the Doctor slowly turned around, straightening out his bowtie. Looking into the eyes of the girl he once loved, he attempted a smile. “Hello, Rose Tyler.”
“Doctor?” She gasped. “But…but you’ve regenerated.”
“I’m not…it’s…the timelines have gone wrong.”
“Like- with my dad?”
“No. Not quite. I’m just not supposed to be here.”
“You don’t want to be here,” Rose said, sadness etching itself into her features. “But you know me. Which means…it’s the future, right? B-but-“ she stopped, swallowing, clearly trying to see past him and into the open doors of the TARDIS. “W-where am I? If this is the future, where am I?”
“You know I can’t tell you.”
“I said forever,” she said, stopping dead in the street. For a few moments, they just stared at each other, Rose’s eyes growing wearier by the second. “Am I dead?”
Amy and Rory were now frantically looking between the pair, Amy’s eyes bright and curious whilst Rory’s anxiety compounded by the second.
“No,” the Doctor sighed. “You’re alive.”
“Oh, so I was right then? With Sarah Jane? You do just leave us behind.”
“It wasn’t like that-“
“Then what was it like!”
“Rose, calm down-“
“Do not tell me to calm down! One minute you say you’ll be back in a week and then next you’ve gone and regenerated and telling me I’m gone!”
“It’s a long story-“ the Doctor tried.
“Stop deflecting! Oh god, it never changes with you, does it? What’s going on?”
“I got a distress call,” the Doctor explained, taking slow steps towards her. His heart pounded against his chest, reaching out to her. “A child. He needs help. Somewhere in this estate.”
“Same as ever then?”
He smiled at her. “Same as ever.”
She sighed. “How long has it been?”
“Centuries.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“What happened to me?” She tried again.
“Rose, I can’t.”
“Just…am I happy? When you go?” She was staring at the floor now, for which the Doctor was desperately glad. He couldn’t lie if she was looking him in the eye.
“Yes.”
“You’re lying.” Maybe not. This body could be rather bad at it. Then again, Rose had always been able to see through him. Just as Amy could.
“Um…sorry, but can someone please explain?” Rory finally interrupted, his hand awkwardly held out like he was asking permission to interrupt from his teacher.
Rose turned quickly, plastering on a fake smile. “I’m Rose Tyler. I used to travel with the Doctor. Still do, I guess. He’s crossed over his own timeline. He’s not supposed to be here.”
“Before? I didn’t know-“ Rory started.
“Oh, yeah, he never mentions us. Don’t worry, there’s been lots,” Rose spat bitterly, turning back to the Doctor. “One day you’ll learn to explain a few things when people first board. Has he told you about regeneration yet?”
“Um…not really,” Amy said, looking at Rory, “but we…well, we kind of saw our daughter do it. It’s confusing.”
Rose choked out a laugh. “It always is with the Doctor.”
“So, where are we?”
“Oh, this is where I live. Powell Estates. 2006.” Ah, just a bit off. “Just visiting home-“ the sudden drone of the TARDIS interrupted whatever they were about to say.
“Oh no,” the Doctor said, “okay, now we’ve got to go.”
“But what about the child-“ before Rory could finish, the second TARDIS had finished materialising, a familiar flop of brown hair peeking out the door.
“Rose, sorry I’m a bit early but-“ The two Doctor’s locked eyes. “Oh, not again.”
The eleventh Doctor himself groaned. “You,” he said (oh god his hands were going flappy again), “why you?”
“Let me guess,” he sighed, “you’re the next one?”
“Yes, I am.”
“What’s with the,” he drew his finger in a small circle before landing on the bowtie.
“It’s a bowtie. Bowties are cool.” All four of them shook their head. Come on! One day someone would agree with him! Bowties were - are! - cool. He’d prove it! “Maybe I should question the…the sand shoes! And the…skinniness.”
“Well you’ve got a babyface.”
“Well- well-” the Doctor floundered, his arms getting more animated by the moment, “you’ve got sideburns!”
“And you’re not ginger.”
“Neither are you!”
“Both of you, stop it!” Rose Tyler shouted. “Oh god, I should have known. Now everyone shut up and explain what is going on.”
“Two timelines,” the tenth Doctor explained, “converging on one point. One time. One place. So why here?”
“We- we got a distress call?” Rory hedged.
“From a little boy,” Amy added. “The Doctor said he was going to help.”
“But if you knew it was this year-“ Ten interrupted.
“I didn’t! I just tracked it with the TARDIS, I didn’t check.”
“Well maybe you should have!”
“Oh, stop it. Like you ever checked!”
And is if it couldn’t get any worse, another TARDIS chorused in, its thick drone slicing through the tension and filling it with icing, only to place a lovely little cherry on top of this debacle. “London,” a Scottish man said, his voice incomprehensibly fearful. “Still a dump.”
“Oh god,” both Doctor’s muttered, staring wide-eyed at the new man rounding the corner.
He was an older man, his hair curling around his head in frizzy grey, yet it was still so obviously the Doctor. It came in the posture, the way he held himself, in the depth of his eyes and the telepathic resonance in the Doctor’s bloody head.
“Caecilius?” Ten muttered.
“Oh no,” the new Doctor said, “just stole his face. Rightfully so. I think its a rather great face.” Then he stopped, looking at the Doctor’s properly for the first time. He sighed, his face falling, his fear a thinly veiled secret. “I should have known,” he said cryptically. Nodding at his companion, his eyes suddenly widened. “And this…this is Clara. Clara, yes, Clara. Clara, Clara, Clara.”
“You can stop saying my name now, Doctor,” she hissed, plastering on a smile. “Hi, everyone.” Her eyes darted to both Eleven and Ten. “I assume something’s gone haywire with time again?”
“Clara,” he said again, “I’m with Clara.”
“Doctor,” she hissed, frowning, “what the hell are you doing?”
“Clara,” he whispered reverently, suddenly stalking in a slow circle around her.
Finally, his face flattened, the frail mask replaced with one as hard as stone. “We’re leaving. I don’t want to do this.” So far, his eyes hadn’t even glimpsed at the three other companions in the vicinity. He’d barely even looked at the Doctors. For all his posturing, he truly seemed terrified.
“No, no! You can’t go!” Eleven shouted. “Who are you? You’re not our past but you can’t be my future, I’m on the last-“
“But you said you were the next-“ Ten interrupted.
“You don’t want to know,” the new Doctor said over them, his back turned, eyes trained on the ground. “You really don’t.”
“Clara, we’re leaving,” the new Doctor repeated, glaring at the bickering idiots on the other side of the road.
“No, we’re not!”
“And why not?” The Doctor span on his heels. Like this, he loomed over Clara, his eyebrows drawn inwards and violent. “What reason do I have to stay?”
“Is this not a chance? To…well, to see them all again.”
“See who?”
“You’d know if you’d just look.”
“Well, the last only travelled with…with the Ponds. The one before, that could be anyone.”
“I- well, she’s blonde?”
“Rose,” he gasped. His perfect mask fractured for just a second before he reconstructed it. “No, we’re leaving.”
“What’s so wrong with Rose!”
“Yeah! Hey!”
“There’s nothing wrong with Rose! Or the Ponds! I just want to-“
“Come on.”
“No, Clara! Don’t you get it? My past? It’s long and it’s dangerous and it’s sad. And if I don’t have to face it then I won’t.”
“But we’re all here for a reason,” Ten interrupted. “The TARDIS’ brought us here. They wouldn’t do that for no reason.”
“She’s done worse things to spite me,” the new Doctor spat. “We shouldn’t stay here. We’re going to create a paradox.”
“And we haven’t already?” Ten asked, finally stepping out of his TARDIS, coat billowing behind him. Funny, how of all of them, the youngest seemed the sanest. Then again, he wasn’t facing anyone he’d lost, only things he’d yet to gain.
“Okay,” Amy interrupted, “if one of you doesn’t explain what’s going on right the hell now, I am going to punch one/all of you! Speak up!”
“Um, well, it seems the TARDIS’ wanted three of our regenerations to convene,” Eleven guessed, “though I still don’t know why.”
If the TARDIS wanted them to work together, she wasn’t going to get very far. Twelve (or so Eleven was going to assume) hadn’t turned around. Ten looked bored (or was that annoyed? It was funny how he couldn’t read his own face sometimes) enough that he might just leave any second now and Eleven himself kept staring at Rose like she was some sort of cruel prize.
“Well, why’s he here? We’ve established you had a message. I’m here for Rose. Why him?”
“Zygons,” Clara explained. “Probably. We think.” She was clutching at Twelve’s arm, standing stalwart as Twelve slowly tried to inch away. “He doesn’t tell me much.”
Twelve stared down at her for a moment too long before his head flew up and he plastered an awkward smile on his face. Honestly, it was kind of terrifying. “There was no time! There’s still no time. Although, we are in the wrong time so I guess it doesn’t matter.” Twelve rolled his eyes and finally turned around, ripping his sleeve out of Clara’s hand and fixing his cuffs. His eyes drifted to the Ponds first but he could barely even glance at them before he was moving to Rose. Clearly, there was something more manageable about her but like Eleven, the guilt in his eyes was inescapable.
“He won’t tell me,” Rose said, pointing to Eleven. “What happened to me? Why do you both stare at me like a ghost?”
“Well,” Twelve hedged, “I guess you are dead by now. Probably.”
“Doctor!” Clara hissed frantically but Twelve didn’t listen.
“You went happily, that’s all that matters,” he sighed.
“Then why do you look at me like someone’s…I don’t know! You’ve got those eyes. The one when you think about the past. The…the guilt eyes! Just tell me what happens!” Rose demanded.
“Rose,” Ten tried, putting his hand on her shoulder but she shrugged him off, walking closer to Twelve.
“Tell me.”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
Together, they were a battle of wills. Even with the height difference, Rose made up for it with sheer frustration. They stared each other down, eye to eye, nose to nose, the tension palpitating and mutating until finally Twelve relented.
“I left you. On a parallel world. With my clone. Human biological meta-crisis if you will.”
“But…why would you do that?”
“So you could have a life,” Eleven interrupted, glaring viciously at himself. “A human partner to spend the rest of your life with.”
“But…a parallel world?”
“Your family was there,” Eleven explained, “you weren’t going to leave.”
“Am…am I stuck there?” When Eleven’s eyes drifted the ground, she span back to Twelve. “Well?”
“Yes,” he answered. “The walls between the worlds are closed.”
Rose’s face fell, like the answer had finally been drilled into her mind and she stumbled back into her own Doctor’s arms before realising her mistake. “I’m going for a walk,” she muttered, “I’ll come back.” And with that, she stalked off into the Estate, in the other direction of her flat.
“Great,” Ten drawled, “thanks.” Though his eyes were just as devastated, the reality of his future settling in.
“And us?” Amy demanded. “If she gets to know, so do I.”
“Amy, no, this is a bad-“
“Weeping Angels got you,” Twelve relayed mercilessly, his eyes exhausted. He truly did look old now, if the wrinkled skin wasn’t enough to drill it in. All that energy, that bounciness, everything that had made the Doctor the Doctor for so long now, replaced by sticky molasses.
Amy reeled back, straight into Rory, who’s arms trapped around her, even with his eyes full of fear. Dependable, Rory, even when terrified.
“I always said,” she whispered into his shoulder. “There was always something- something more important about them.”
“Okay so now that you’ve gone and ruined everything,” Ten drawled, glaring at Twelve, “do we want to figure out what the hell is going on?”
“I’d rather not but I guess I don’t really have a choice,” Twelve scowled. “So, where to?”