Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Doctor永远不会忘记那一秒，那一刻，那一瞬。一双眼睛，貌似全知全能的眼睛。那双和他相同，但包含了他不允许自己拥有的杀意和仇恨的眼睛，还可以找到一点仁慈和怜悯。纯正的人类，他可以确定。

但这个纯正的人类在踏入塔迪斯的那一刻并不像其他人一样感到震撼，甚至没有太大的情绪起伏。Doctor完全不理解，怎么有时间旅行者会对时间机器不感兴趣？真是没天理。

“我不是那种典型的时间旅行者。我在我自己的时间线中穿梭，通过死亡去往下一世。”Gideon倚靠着塔迪斯的栏杆，安静地摆弄死死咬着他手腕的手铐。

Doctor像往常一样拉动了拉杆，塔迪斯去物质化，却又很快地物质化，落在了刚才的位置。他拖着显示屏仔细查看塔迪斯的状态，尝试弄清楚它为什么不肯离开。

“死亡不是你的终点？”

“死亡不是我的终点。”

“你被困在自己的时间线里了。”就像他们现在一样，这里的时间流逝的速率和方向都很不寻常，有些违背了现存的物理理论。

“你可以这么说，但我每次做出的改变都是真的，只是更多的坏事又涌上来了。”Gideon找到一根坚硬的针状物，开始别扭地往锁孔里捅，所幸这不是他第一次尝试撬开手铐。

随着咔哒一声响，Gideon顺利地摆脱了手铐的束缚，他把解下来的手铐留在了栏杆上，继续说：“人们活在当下，我活在永恒里。”

Doctor把视线从操作面板上挪开，朝他那边看了一眼，自然地问道：“永恒有多少秒？”

“有一座山，纯由钻石构成。登上山顶需要一小时，绕山而过需要一小时。每一百年，会有一只小鸟飞来，在钻石山上磨喙。当整座山被消磨殆尽，永恒的第一秒才刚刚过去。”

“我喜欢这个，听起来像童话。”Doctor再一次拉动拉杆，这次他能确保塔迪斯正在向着目的地前进。塔迪斯被启动的光效在内部旋转着，忽明忽暗再配上横冲直撞的感觉让Doctor也有点招架不住。

“真的吗？这只不过是我给弟弟编的睡前故事罢了。”Gideon不得不降低重心并握紧栏杆，防止自己摔倒，塔迪斯逐渐平稳下来，他放开支撑平衡的栏杆朝着中控台靠近。

“我保证在你下一次生命里它就会出现在书上流传于世，原封不动。你想看谁写这个故事？奥斯卡·王尔德？露西·蒙哥马利？”

Gideon耸耸肩，回答道：“我不在乎。”

“好吧，你不在乎。”Doctor的热情又遭遇了迎头的冷水，也许这个人真是个冷血的连环杀人犯，或者典型的人类永生者，他们无法避免地会变得淡漠。他没有介意Gideon的接近，反而主动地让开了主操纵台的那一面，展示所有的奇怪的按钮。

Gideon难以确认这是否称得上一个对方能接受他的标志，毕竟这在他无可计数的人生中也出现得少得可怜。他站定的地方比原先所计划的要远几寸，由于不确定性，他没理由让自己离任何生物和设施更近。

“你可以再走过来一点点。”

“安全距离。”

“操作台不是个威胁，我不是，你也不是。这里没有安全问题。”

“你怎么确定？你看到了未来吗？”

“不，只是我感觉。”Doctor彻底离开了操作台，坐到了那个离得很远的椅子上，以最悠闲的姿态指了指，“你可以再把刚才的拉杆拉回来，这样塔迪斯就会降落——准确来说是物质化，不过没什么区别。”

Gideon仔细打量面前熟悉的面孔，他不知道他能否做到像对方那样对世界如此信任。
Doctor见到了Gideon的犹豫，这是个好迹象，所以他决定暂时转移话题：“你死了多少次？”

“比我能数清的次数还多。”Gideon的脑中闪过了许多画面，都灰蒙蒙的，这些是他能记得的死亡的前一刻：巨大冲击挫伤他的脊椎，肋骨也因此断裂而插进脏器；更多的是他捂着汩汩流淌鲜血的伤口，伴着失血过多的寒冷，视野黯淡下来……实在是太多、太多了。

“当我意识到有些没有来得及、也来不及改变的东西的时候，我就会自杀，然后尝试在下一世纠正。每一次我都尝试让自己走得更远。”

“噢，当然。很好，很好。这么说，你能记住很多事。”

“都是需要被改变的事，是的。每次我都回到的是生命的原点，一切也都复原到了刚开始的样子。说实在的，这一点很折磨。”

“熟能生巧，嗯？你把它们都做了很多遍。”

“我很明白自己在做的事。”一种认同感，袭击，是的，袭击了他的大脑。他的目光又落回操作台，那个拉杆，潜意识帮他做出了决定——他按了下去，“只是Lucy Chambers的遭遇，似乎无法避免。”

Gideon在那些旋转的灯光晃到他的眼睛后才意识到自己刚才做了什么，他希望Doctor对此一句话都不要说。一抬头，Doctor站在门道上看着他，脸上挂着微笑，他在整理他的袖子，并在两个人燃烧目光接触的前一秒，他开门走了出去。

Gideon快步跟上。

——

在这个时刻变换的城堡里，他像身处迷宫的老鼠。Clara Oswald已经死了，没什么能改变这个事实。吗？

只是现在不能。只是需要一个方法。

墙的后面是什么，他早就在第十一亿年时失去了猜测的耐心。他曾经列出过几个答案，只是那些答案不够有说服力，不足以比他的意志更坚硬，而都被磨成了碎末。

他所经历的一切，都是过去，都是现在，都是未来，因为正在发生的，也都是发生过的，也都是即将发生的，他被困在这里了。

受困是可悲的。受困是值得的。

但受困不是迫不得已的。因为他放不下的任何东西，都是能赐予他自由的，他深深明白自己的处境，待在这里，是他不愿意轻易地放下，起码他要尝试过反抗。

轻易？几十亿年仍然算轻易吗？他有很多时间，留给他的时间却并不多，追着他的倒数，逼近的噩梦，这块地方在催促他，急切地渴求他身上的秘密。

他像一只失去翅膀无法飞翔的鸟。

所有关于鸟的意象，并没有让他想起自由，这东西本来现在就不属于他。他想起了Gideon讲过的睡前故事。

他不是来磨喙的鸟，不，他已经有灵巧的口舌了。但那堵坚不可摧的墙在打磨他的拳头，使每一个棱角都尖利，怒火充当着磨料。但他一遍遍地来到这里，像在响应一个召唤，像去完成一个使命，像要逃避一个结局。

Lucy Chambers最终是否得到了好结局，他没有去见证，他也无法见证，这本身就超出了他的范围。但他能确定的是，Clara已经面临了她的死亡结局，而他将倾尽全力去逆转，无论代价，就像他现在正在做的这样。至于他自己的结局，他没有仔细想过，也不值得去想。

他不断回到原点，不断从头再来，不断地改变，尝试到达更远的地方。这让他联想到谁了？他聪明的三颗大脑，都几乎在同一时刻对钻石山的故事产生了更深的理解。

那人真算得上早早地就把他的命运尽数诉说了，不是吗？他在破壁后刺眼的光芒里迎接永恒的第二秒。

——

“我们在——德国！”他的银色卷毛在微风中颤动，非常享受这个暂时未被现代工业污染过的空气。

“德国，我们在这里做什么？”Bill小心翼翼地走出塔迪斯，打量这个异时代的异国，外星球不比它更陌生。

“创造历史。”

“什么历史？你要修改时间线吗？你不应该遵守什么时间法则之类的吗？”她不解地看着他，但这位时间领主只给了她一个“Come on”的眼神，然后转身疾走离开去寻找目的地，她只好跟在后面跑，“嘿！说点什么！”

“童话故事，我们要去给后世创造一些童话故事了。”Doctor的声音很兴奋，但还是好心地放缓了步伐，让Bill赶上他。

Bill跑得气喘吁吁，终于和他走到同一条线上，问：“童话故事？你管创造童话故事为创造历史？”

Doctor耸耸肩，坚决地否认了质疑：“孩子们会读到，也许会影响他们一生，所以我们就是在创造历史。”

“你说了‘也许’，对吧？”

“也许在另一个时间线里，你从来没出生过，但你不还是在这儿吗？这重要吗？”他手舞足蹈地为自己的说法辩护。

“好吧，好吧。”Bill点点头投降了，他们继续往前走，“所以是什么童话故事？”

“不找到他们我是不会剧透的。”

“典型的你。如果我能找到方法撬开你的嘴呢？”

“最高议会的时间领主们试过了，他们24个人72个大脑45亿年都没有成功。”

“我们种族不同，也许我思考方式不同？”

“哈，‘也许’，你也说了。那你就试试吧。”

“从简单的来。‘德国’和‘他们’，我们——我们找的是格林兄弟。”

“不错的开始，但是对内容的猜测没有任何帮助，继续。”

……

他们的身影在落日时分出现在一座木屋前。

Chapter Text

The Doctor will never forget that moment, that second, that tick. The eyes, the eyes seem omniscient and omnipotent. The eyes, the eyes are so similar to him but contains more hatred that he doesn't allow himself to have, while there are still kindness and compassion. A pure human, he can confirm.

But this pure human doesn't act very shocked like others when he enters the TARDIS. You can even tell that his mood has no ups and downs. The Doctor can't believe it, how can a time traveler not be interested in a time machine? It's really really way too unreasonable.

"I'm not a typical time traveler. I travel in my own timeline, go to the next life through death." Gideon leans against the railing of the TARDIS' doorway and quietly fiddles with the handcuffs that bites his wrist.
The Doctor pulls the lever as usual, the TARDIS dematerializes, and strangely rematerializes at once, landing in the same location before. He looks at the monitor, trying to figure out why it wouldn't leave.

"Death is not your end?"

"Death is not everyone's end."

"You're stuck in your own timeline." Like the situation they currently face with. The speed and direction of time passing here are unusual, and some of them violate the existing physical theory.

"You can definitely say that. But every change I made is resl. It's just bad things always flood in, following." Gideon found a needle and begins to poke awkwardly into the keyhole. Fortunately, this is not the first time he tries to pry open the handcuffs.

With a click, Gideon successfully gets rid of the handcuffs. He leaves them on the railing and continues, "People live in the present, and I live in eternity."

The Doctor takes his eyes off the monitor, glancing at him and a question pushes out from his mouth naturally, "How many seconds is eternity?"

"There's this mountain of pure diamond. It takes an hour to climb it, and an hour to go around it. Every hundred years, a little bird comes and sharpens its beak on the diamond mountain. And when the entire mountain is chiselled away, the first second of eternity will have passed."

"Ah! I like it. Sounds like a fairytale." The Doctor pulls the lever once more, this time he is able to make sure the TARDIS was moving towards its destination. The light effects being activated swirled around inside, the flickering light couples with the feeling of bumpiness makes the Doctor a bit overwhelmed as well.

"Really? That's just a bedtime story I made up for my brother Malcolm." Gideon has to lower his body and grip the railing to prevent himself from falling over, and as the Tardis gradually smoothes out, he let go of the railing that is supporting his balance and moves closer towards the console.

"In your next lifetime, I promise you'll read it on a book, with beautiful pictures, and your words remain the same. Who would you like to see write this story? Oscar Wilde? Lucy Montgomery? Consider them as a press, some kind of medium."

Gideon shrugs, plainly says, "I don't care."

"Right, you don't care." Doctor's enthusiasm meets with another headlong blast of cold water; maybe the man really is a cold-blooded serial killer, or a typical human immortal who couldn't avoid becoming apathetic. Instead of minding Gideon's approaching, he offers to step aside to show him all the weird buttons on his side of the main console.

Gideon has trouble confirming whether or not this qualified as a sign of acceptance; after all, it has also appeared far less often in his uncountable life. He stands a few inches farther away than he has originally planned, as due to the uncertainty, he has no reason to get himself any closer to any of the creatures or facilities.

"You can come closer."

"Safe distance."

"The console is not a threat, nor me, nor you. There's no safety problem."

"How can you be so sure? Did the future tell you?"

"No. Just a feeling." The Doctor leaves the console altogether and sits down in the chair that is a good distance away, gesturing in his most leisurely manner, "You can pull that lever back, so that the TARDIS will land - materialise, to be precise, but it doesn't make much difference. "

Gideon stares at the face exactly like himself, wondering if he could trust others as much as the man in front of him.

Doctor catches Gideon's hesitation, which is a good start, so he decides to change the subject for now, "How many times have you died?"

"More than I can remember." Many images flashes through Gideon's mind, all grey, these are what he could remember of the moments before his death arrives: the massive impact that broke his spine and ribs while the broken ribs inserted into his organs; and more as blood covered his gurgling wounds, accompanied by the coldness of the loss of blood, and his vision dimmed ...... It was just too much, too much.

"When I realise there's something I didn't have time for and it's too late to change, I kill myself, and then try to revise it in the next lifetime. Each time I recur, I try to make myself go further."

"Oh, of course. Good, good. You can remember lots of things then. Not much immortal human can do that."
"I'm not immortal, I die like everyone does. It's just I remember all my previous lives when I come back. And every time, I fix things from the very beginning of time."

"Practice makes perfect, hm?"

"I know exactly what I'm doing." A sense of recognition strikes, yes, strikes, his brain. His eyes fall back to the console, the lever, his subconscious mind helping him to make a decision - he pulls it, "It's just that what happened to Lucy Chambers seems unavoidable."

Gideon only realises what he'd just done after those swirling lights daggers his eyes, and he hopes that the Doctor don't say a word about it. As soon as he looks up, Doctor stands in the doorway looking at him with a smile on his face as he straightens his sleeves, opens the door and walks out the second before the two of them made burning eye contact.

——

In the castle that changes every minute, he's like a mouse in a maze. Clara Oswald is dead, nothing can revise the fact. Or can it?

It just won't happen now. It just needs a way.

What is behind the wall is something he had long ago lost the patience to guess at in his eleventh billion years. He has listed a few answers, but those are not convincing enough to out-harden his will, and they have all been ground to pieces.

Everything he's experiencing is the past, the present, also the future. Because what's happening is what's happened, also what's about to happen.

He's stuck here.

Miserable to be hedged in. Worthy to be hemmed in.
But it's not compelled. Anything he couldn't let go of is something that could have granted him liberty, and he deeply understands his situation. Staying here is for he isn't willing to let go of so easily, or at least he's willing to fight back.

So easily? Are billions of years still counted as easy? He has a lot of time, not much left for himself. The looming countdown, the approaching nightmare, the place is urging him on, craving desperately for the secrets he carries long.

He is a bird without the wings to fly.

All the imageries about bird, barely remind him about freedom, as he knows that's something he doesn't own. But they do remind him about Gideon's bedtime story.

He's not here to sharpening his beak, no, he's already got a sharp tougue. However the wall is sharpening his fists, making his fury the sander. He comes down here time after time, like running to a call, like going on a mission, like escaping from an ending.

Whether Lucy Chambers ultimately got the good ending or not, he isn't there to witness, and he couldn't, that in itself was beyond him. What he can be sure of, however, is that Clara has faced her deathly end, and that he will do everything in or even beyond his power to reverse it, no matter what the cost, as he is doing now. As for his own end, he hasn't given it much thought, and it isn't worth thinking about.

He keeps going back to zero, keeps starting over, keeps changing, trying to reach further. Who does this remind him of? All three of his brilliant brains, at almost the same moment, develope a deeper understanding of the story of that diamond hill.

That man is a fortune teller for real, isn't he? The Doctor greets the next second of eternity in the blinding light.

——

"We're in - Germany!" His silver curls flutters in the breeze. He is enjoying the air, which is untainted by modern industry for now, immensely.

"Germany, what are we doing here?" Bill stepped cautiously out of the Tardis, surveying this foreign country in a foreign era, the outer planets no stranger than it.

"Making a history."

"What history? Are you going to revise the timeline? Shouldn't you be obeying some time law or something?" She looks at him in confusion, but this Time Lord only give her a "Come on" look before turning and sprinting away to find his destination, so she has to run after him, "Hey! Say something!"

"Fairy tales, we're off to create some fairy tales for future generations." The Doctor sounds excited, but kindly slowes his pace to allow Bill to catch up with him.

Bill runs out of breath and finally get next to him, asking, "Fairy tales? You call creating fairy tales making history?"

The Doctor shrugs and firmly denies the query, "Kids will read it and it may affect them for the rest of their lives, so we ARE making history."

"You said 'may', right?"

"Maybe in another timeline you were never born, but aren't you still here? Does it matter?" He defends his claim.

"Fine, fine." She nods so that they can continue walking, "So what kind of fairy tale?"

"No spoilers unless we find them."

"Ha, classic you. What if I find way to crack your mouth?"

"The Time Lords in High Command have tried. 24 of them, 72 brains, 4.5 billion years, did it work? No. What's their ending? No idea."

"We are different species. We may think differently."

"There we go, 'may', you said that too. Go on, take your pick."

"Start with easy ones. Germany and 'them', also fairytale, we're looking for Brothers Grimm."

"Oh, nice start, but no use for the content. Carry on."

At sunset, their shadows illuminated by the setting sun appeared in front of a wooden house.