NCJDDAS: Doctor Who and Dinnertime
Part One: Vale Decem
It is said in the final days of planet earth, that everyone had bad dreams. To the west of the north of that world, the human race did gather, in the celebration of a Pagan rite to banish the cold and the dark.
These were the words Rassilon spoke at the end of things; his prophecy that he narrated out into the void, for a listener, for an audience that must, of course, be watching. The universe is changed when it is observed, and yes, these words changed the universe. This is how it was.
Today, at least, today for her, a small woman sat beside a blue box and she heard these words. In an alley beside a road beside a church. She heard. And she thought them rubbish.
“I can’t believe I’m back here.” She muttered, under her breath.
“What’s going on?” Danny asked, stepping outside the TARDIS doors.
“Christmas Eve, 2009.” The Doctor said, incredibly annoyed. “I do apologize.”
Each and every one of those people had dreamt of the terrible things to come. But they forgot, because they must. They forgot their nightmares of fire and war and insanity.
“Um, pardon the obvious question, but what’s that?”
“That’s the End of Time.” The Doctor sighed, miserable. “Part One.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve gone into the Metaverse. Not, um. Not the creepy internet one, but – a side universe of our own, where we can witness how we are perceived. Do you ever have the feeling of being watched?”
“What?”
“We are, constantly. We’re being viewed. In universes like this, everything we are is a television program, and we’re now inside it.”
Danny rubbed his eyes. He had the feeling of a migraine coming on. “You can’t possibly be serious.”
“Hold on a second. John Simm’s about to laugh like Anthony Ainley on Adderall.”
HAHAHHhHAHAHAHhahAHAHAHHAhahahAHHHH HH H
Danny placed his head in his hands. Oh my god. It’s real. What the hell. Was his… was his whole life a lie? He knew the Doctor made jokes about this stuff regularly, but… he thought that was an insane quirk? Was he a movie, a book? Was he a line of code somewhere in a computer? Was this the Matrix? He’d never seen the Matrix, what do you do in the Matrix if you’ve not seen the Matrix?
Danny hesitated. He did not know how to say what he had to say. It had been burning in him for so long, and he felt like maybe he could do more last time, like he could “Doctor, I — I want to go home. I thought you were taking me home. I don’t want more – of these! I don’t want more hypertextual and post-modern adventures. I don’t want this. I want to live a life. I want to live a normal life. I want to have a family, Doctor. A proper family. I want a lovely kitchen. You’ve — You’ve taken the Kitchens and the Gardens and everything. I feel like everything I am is a joke, and I want to be more than a … a joke! I want to be—”
The Doctor wasn’t paying attention. Or at least, enough attention. She was watching a familiar, old beautiful man waddle into a Church because of his bad dreams. “Hold that thought,” she said quietly.
She walked into the street.
Danny tried not to yell or make a scene. Some people just don’t listen —
* * *
It was an ending, really. The TARDIS had taken her to an ending – her ending — so long ago now — and now she was facing an ending with Danny. It was so ironic. But the Doctor couldn’t look away. It was the weirdest, oddest thing. To watch yourself, to watch your friends. Your gone friends. It felt… voyeuristic.
“This was the site of a convent back in the thirteen hundreds. It's said a demon fell from the sky, then a man appeared. A man in a blue box. They called him the sainted physician. He smote the demon and then disappeared.” The Woman said to Wilf.
Who the fuck was that Woman again anyway? The Doctor couldn’t remember shit. The Doctor was oddly reminded of Tommy Wiseau’s The Room. She wasn’t sure why.
So wrong. So weird. She was so close to all of this. It was odd.
“Um, hello?” The Woman said, peeking over Wilf’s shoulder. She looked directly at the Doctor in one of the back Pews. “Who are you? You aren’t meant to be here.”
Oh, god. The Doctor thought in fear, perhaps earnestly, for the first time in millenia. Maybe It was fitting to be in a Church. But the point was… she wasn’t just watching The End of Time Part One (2009) Starring David Tennant and John Simm. Shit. She was in it.
* * *
Danny saw a transparent laughing John Simm cackle inside his skull. It was a bit embarrassing that the entire human race dreamed transparent laughing John Simm cackle at them and then instantly forgot it. I mean, it would be odd. If it wasn’t comparatively low in the odd spectrum compared to, you know. Everything else he had seen in his travels.
Where had Roman gone to? Fuck. This whole thing was a mess.
And then, he was somewhere else. It was snowy, white and bleak. But the TARDIS was still there, and there was – there was a man in it. He knew that man! He had seen that man, in the Toymaker’s writing.
It was the Doctor!
“Well, I didn't exactly come straight here.” The Doctor began. “Had a bit of fun, you know. Travelled about, did this and that. Got into trouble. You know me. It was brilliant. I saw the Phosphorous Carousel of the Great Magellan Gestadt, saved a planet from the Red Carnivorous Maw, named a galaxy Alison.”
Danny saw scrolling text appear in front of his eyes, including
AUDIO: The Shattered Hourglass
COMIC: Old Girl
AUDIO: Out of Time
TV: The Day of the Doctor
He brushed it off. What the hell was happening?!? He didn’t want to get swept up into this. But it was unavoidable. He was watching it all happen. And they didn’t seem to notice him, like he was glass.
But the Ood was there, and it spoke. In fact, it did nothing but speak, as if it was a student trying to reach an essay word-count. “Returning, returning, returning, it is slowly returning through the dark and the fire and the blood. Always returning, returning to this world. It is returning, and he is returning, and they are returning, but too late. Too late. Far too late. He has come.”
Fuck, Danny thought. It was hard to have reasonable realistic responses to this kind of thing. No matter how he reacted, he was certain that no amount of emotion would be enough to summarize the confusion and annoyance that breached his skull. If he spoke he would sound like a ridiculous cartoon character.
Get me out of here, Doctor. He thought. I’m counting on you.
* * *
The Doctor sat next to Lucy Saxon in the Prison Cell. “How’d they get you?”
“Treason slash Murder.” Lucy stated.
“Ah. Indecent Exposure.” The Doctor pointed at herself proudly. There was an awkward pause. “I must say, it is very interesting to be here. I’m excited to see it.”
“To see what?” Lucy Saxon asked.
“Oh, nothing.” The Doctor said, quickly and desperately. “There is no actual weird fucking magic that is about to occur. I emphatically deny such things.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. She hadn’t the time for strange old crones. All she was meant to do was rot in here.
But then the door opened, revealing the weird evil lady with the ring. She was a scary governor person. I don’t know.
“Mrs Saxon. Let me introduce myself. I'm your new Governor. I'm afraid the previous Governor met with something of an accident, which took quite some time to arrange. Miss Trefusis, if you will prepare.”
The Doctor tried not to giggle. It was too much.
“You kept your silence well, Mrs Saxon. Your trial was held in secret, with no jury, so no one knows who Harold Saxon was, where he came from, why you killed him. Make her kneel. There are those of us who never lost faith. And in his wisdom, Harold Saxon prepared for this moment. He knew that he might die and he made us ready. Tonight, Mrs Saxon, he returns.”
She didn’t even need to add a funny quip or anything. There was no punchline that could possibly make it more ridiculous.
“Now, Mrs. Saxon,” the Governor intoned. “Give us your lipstick. In order to resurrect the Master with a weird voodoo death blood ritual we need the lipstick of a woman who hasn’t kissed the Master in two years and also it was an alternative timeline.”
That… was a bit off-script. The Doctor pursed her lips disagreeably. I mean, it was amusing, but. It made the Doctor remember the oddity of how they were here at all. But then, there he was. Naked Levitating John Simm.
“Aw fuck" said Lucy Saxon as they took their lipstick. "I can't believe you've done this"
"Ne VeR. nEvEr. NeveR. nEvEr. NeVVeR DyiInG. nEvEr dYiNg! NeVeR DyInG! nEEr dYYiNg! NeVeR DyInnG! bbbWaHaHaHaHaHaHa! NeveR DYing! BAHWHAAHAHAHH hO H H H h Oh, LuCy. SwEeT LuCy sAxOn. My eVeR FaItHfUl. DiD ThE WiDoW'S KiSs bRiNg mE BaCk tO LiFe?"
The vibe i bring to the function:
“YOU”RE KIlLlING THEM .!”
01001100 01100101 01101101 01101111 01101110 01110011
AS IT WAS WRITTEN IN THE SECRED BOOKS OF SAXON ,,
AS IT WS WRIATTEN IN THE SAECRED BOOKS OF SAXOON ,,
AS IT WS WRIATTEN I N the SACred Boo k s of SAXx
As tt WAS WRITITEN IN The sAcred Boaokaks of SEX ON
The Secret Books of Saxon spoke of the Potions of Life. And I was never that bright, but my family had contacts. People who were clever enough to calculate the opposite!"
Place your face into the ocean . push down 90 degrees. Push down 90 degrees. Breath in deep. Snort the sand and the salt until your nose is raw and bloody. Swallow the water. Swallow the water.
“No.” The Doctor realized where she was. This was just… just like before! With the Toymaker, where she had gone too deep into an anomaly. The creature had followed her out.
lEvItIcUs 18:7 yOu sHaLl nOt uNcOvEr tHe nAkdeSs oF YoUr fatHer, wHiCh iS ThE NaKeDnEsS Of yOuR MoThEr. ShE Is yooururR MohEr yOu sHaLl nOt uNcObe vrer er hEr nAkEdNeSs.
I want you TO want me. I need YOU to nEED me. I LOVE YOU to LoVE me. I’m begging you to beg me .
It was Quattro. This was all possible because of Quattro.
He had escaped.
TILLDEATHDOUSPARTHARRY!
“Hello!!” Declared Quattro, waving a hand towards the Doctor. “:3!”
Part Two: If You or A Loved One Has Been Diagnosed With Mesothelioma You May Be Entitled To Financial Compensation. Mesothelioma is a Rare Cancer Linked To Asbestos Exposure. Call Now
“UwU Hewwo ^^ Doccy Who !! . .” Quattro said.
W
“Why are you doing this to me?” The Doctor asked, furious. “This is the second time that you’ve —”
“Third!” Quattro Quattro-ed. His voice was little and squeaky. Like a child scribbling on a canvas.
“I don’t understand.” The Doctor said. “I haven’t done anything to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anyone. If there’s anything I can do, I will, it’s just – you have to leave me alone.”
“Fwiends!!” Quattro said happily, before his voice deepened into that of a new york chain smoker. “Listen, broad. This ain’t personal. I gotta split.”
Two Quattros appeared in front of her, as if he had split in twain.
“Haha, very funny.” The Doctor hissed. “Except you aren’t funny. You’re a danger to the fabric of existence everywhere.”
“Wouldn’t be here if you counted as existence, sugar tits.” Quattro said, still in the New York voice. He began to excrete a black fluid from his beak-like kobald mouth, which fell upwards. THE MOST POWERFUL LINE OF TRUCKS, INCLUDING DAKOTA, DURANGO AND RAM HEAVY DUTY. TWO WORDS TO OTHER TRUCKS. NIGHTY NIGHT. FOR MORE INFORMATION VISIT
The Doctor looked at her hand with fear. It was made out of transparent cackling John Simm. Her bad dreams.
“You met the Countryfile before. NEW CRISPY CHICKEN PRETZEL FRIES AT BURGER KING. CRUNCHY PRETZEL ON THE OUTSIDE TENDER JUICY WHITE MEAT INSIDE You met the Toymaker before. Ibuprofen Oral Suspension 100 mg per 5 mL Pain Reliever Fever Reducer. Get ready to play with the big guns. LEGO CHIMA. I’m the big guns, for the record. Shoop! Shoop! Shoop! Shoop!”
In moments, the Doctor was flung out of the everything that surrounded Quattro. She was no longer seeing paper clips and shampoo and plastic forks and started to see the real world again, made out of earth, rock and pavement instead of aardvarks in petticoats or whatever other fluctuating random insanity surrounded Quattro.
She was back in the End of Time. She couldn’t believe it, but she still breathed a sigh of relief.
* * *
“Just going down to the Lion. Quick little snifter. Christmas drinks. All right, ta-da.” Wilf announced, a little twinkle in his eye.
Danny blinked, confusedly. Perhaps he hadn’t been paying much attention, but – it was odd, being hijacked from location to location. It didn’t make all that much sense. Danny followed him onto the bus steadily, watching him make his phone calls. Was this guy one of the old models – one of him, the people who travelled with the Doctor? It was funny to consider.
With Roman, him and Wilf – did the Doctor always travel with old men?
No – no, there were too many women faces when he was with the Toymaker, when he was in every era, every everything.
And besides, he wasn’t an old man. But he was in the wrong body. So sometimes it was easy to get confused. Sometimes it was easy to forget who he was. That was why he had to stop travelling. Why he had to get used to feeling real.
Oh, he was getting too introspective. And the End of Time Part One was going on in the background. And the foreground. All around him. He looked at Wilf talking to who he assumed was his friends. The silver cloak.
"He's tall and thin, wears a brown suit, maybe a blue suit, modern sort of hair, all sticky-uppy, right? Oh and on page two, be on the lookout for a police box, especially like those old ones-"
"I want to fuck him." said Minnie, suddenly, and with intent in her eyes that was almost frightening.
"Yeah, all right, all right,” Wilf dismissed her. “Now listen, this is important. We have got to find it, right? So phone around. Phone everybody. Sally, will you get onto the Bridge club? Right. Winston, you try the old boys. Bobby, want you to ring the skiffle band, right? Between us, we've got the city covered."
Winston, one of the random other old fellows in question, perked up. “Who is he, then, this Doctor?”
Danny watched with interest. He wondered what Wilf would say.
"No, I can't tell you that. I swear." Wilf said. "Yeah, but answer me this. Have you been having bad dreams? All of you? Dreams you can't remember? Yeah. Well, that's why we need him. We need the Doctor more than ever."
Danny liked Wilf. It was a shame that this was all some weird meta-thing. He would have liked to take Wilf out to lunch, get him some nice biscuits, the silly old grandpa. He already felt like family.
“I’m horny,” announced Minnie.
* * *
The Doctor was in the quarry. She had walked by it, because she remembered. She remembered how all of this was going to go. From Wilf in the Church to I don’t want to go. She felt like a stranger to herself, really. She worried about Quattro. About his influence. About her influence too, actually. She really didn’t want to run into David Tennant. The fans would never stop jabbering about it for months.
Ahead, she saw them, and irritation came to her, alongside a strange bit of amusement and maybe some sorrow. The poor homeless men. She didn’t remember their names. She knew what was going to happen to them. That was the sad bit. But the irritation and amusement came from the same part: that she knew what was going to happen to them. More insane bullshit.
“Couldn’t have put me in The Caves of Androzani, could you?!?” The Doctor shouted out to the meta-dimension.
Ginger and Tommo, the two homeless men, looked at her shouting, and began to back away slowly. Oh no, the Doctor squirmed. She kept interfering, even if only because she was there.
Maybe she was Quattro’s way in. She bit her lip and rushed off to try and hide behind some rocks or something. But soon enough she body-slammed into an invisible wall. It flashed a little, flickering. She wasn’t quite sure if it was a green-screen or a matte painting. Neither of which made sense, I mean, this was a Quarry. Wasn’t it location filmed?
The world wouldn’t let her out of this scene, now that she was in it. She would have to bear witness.
There was a van, run by some woman selling or giving out charity burgers or something. The Doctor wasn’t quite sure.
“Come on over, mate!” Ginger yelled. “Maybe you’ll feel better with some food in ya!”
“Oi, leave her alone.” Tommo told Ginger. “She obviously ain’t well. Nothing good gonna come from that.”
The Doctor approached, steadily. She looked down at her clothes. Her white button-up with a tie had been smeared in the dirt of the Quarry. That was probably why people assumed she was a homeless woman. She opened her mouth to speak, trying to say something that would disrupt the narrative the least. “...Hello.” She said.
They looked at her for a moment and went back to the van. Good. Good. She wasn’t being a narrative problem.
“Onions with that?” The charity woman asked.
“Oh yeah, go on, pile them on.” Tommo smiled. “What about you, Ginger? Onions?”
Ginger shrugged, a bit clueless. Tommo felt like he had to speak for him. “He don’t say much,” Tommo said. “Give ‘im onions. He’s down from Huddersfield.”
The Doctor flinched with concern. Hadn’t he just said something to her a moment before? Another contradiction. This whole thing was like stepping on Butterflies. Or broken glass.
“And you, miss?”
“...Onions…” The Doctor said. “I’m an… Onion person.” She was passed a burger with onions. She hated Onions.
“Well, you look after him.” The woman said, back to her script. “And don't forget tomorrow night. The Christmas broadcast. President Obama. He's promised to end the recession. Bad times will soon be over, Ginger.”
“We’re homeless. How are we meant to watch the broadcast?” The Doctor said, instinctively. She covered her mouth immediately afterward. Stop it! You’re not meant to mess with the narrative, she told herself. But she already had.
The burger woman had paused. She was shaking a very tiny bit, perhaps out of nervousness. “...I don’t know…” She said, like it was an existential revelation. And it probably was. “I’ve. I’ve. . . never said anything else.”
“We say different things around you.” Tommo intoned desperately, horrified by the fact. “...Why … Why is that?”
The Doctor held a hand to her pounding hearts. She was panicking too now. It would happen only in moments. “Forget I said anything.”
And then he was!! Then he was there!! All in a hoodie and all walking towards them !! and all!! All him !!! !!! The man himself. The one who was. The one who never died never died never died the drums the drums the never ending drumbeat open me you human fool open the light and summon me and receive my majesty THERE HE WAS!
The Doctor tried to run but couldn’t.
The Master looked at them hungrily, with his weird fucking expression. He moved his jaw around like he was stretching it.
“Now what can we get you sir?”
“EVeeufrryrthing. I’m SOOOo o o o o hungry~~” The Master said.
“Oh! Somebody’s lively on their feet.”
“Starvin g.” John Simm whisper mumble growled.
The Doctor was frozen in place. Dear god. What a world. What a strange, strange world it was. To be here. Like this. And they knew! They knew, and they still said their lines like good little children! They didn’t stop for anything!
“Now, you see? That's what you don't want to do. Eat it all at once. Tempting, I know. But if you make it last, it can last all day.”
WANT mORe ! ! WaNT chEese and Chips N MEat AndnGRavy ann cream NbEer and Prork. and Beef nd FAT. Fat GREAT big CHuNKS of HOT. WET. RED >!>! “ . !
Oh no. Oh god, oh no. She was witnessing it. She began to laugh hysterically. Out of fear. Out of mourning, out of the ridiculous burning thing in her chest that wouldn’t stop when HE kept SPEAKING. It wasn’t just anything. Wasn’t just a madman. It was a performance. One of the performances of all time and he was right! There!! He terrified her! And he! was hilarious! He was the funniest thing in the whole wide world!
"good for you mate maybe we'd better be going" Tommo muttered. But there was no god. There was no escape.
"YOU LOOK LIKE THAT B L O K E harold saxon the one that went
MA D" Ginger responded.
"hehehe isnt that funny isnt that just the best thing of all.” John Simm had a fucking seizure. He rotated and twisted around the worlds. He was the oroborous. He was the snake eating his own tail. The dinnertime man. He was here. “the master of disguise STUCK looking like the old PRIME MINISTER !! i can't hide anywhere . he can see me ! he can smell m$e can't let him SmeLl me. docto% docto r SHOCked HEr StOPped HEr . ! GOT To stoP the SMell The Stink Sthe Tfilth y filthy k sink .”
ginger come with me right now .
The Doctor could feel it. Quattro manifesting again. The feelings, the emotions, his presence. The ridiculousness of what was occurring. It was what made Quattro. It was what MADE this all happen. This was a home to him. The more ridiculous and magical the story became, the closer —
because it's FUNNY don't you see look at me i'm SPLITTING MY SIDES
i am HILARIOUS i am the funniest thing in the whole wide WORL D !
No . no. please no.
SARAH. GOD HELP US! THERE’S THIS MAN!!!
DINnERTImE!
Part Three: The Master Suite
The Doctor was foaming at the mouth — actually foaming, filled with that bubbly mucus whatever it is that you get when you have Rabies. The Doctor didn’t have Rabies. She had something much worse.
“Stink the filthy filthy stink,” The Doctor blubbered through the foam, nearly subsumed by how much The End of Time Part One there was.
In the back of her mind, she knew this was incredibly dangerous. Contagious, even. Large sections of this story were already The End of Time Part One, copy and pasted. It wouldn’t stop there.
If The End of Time was not contained inside this metaverse, it could affect all continuity. Change every story. Ever written. Like a copypasta, multiplying like Rabbits.
Every story ever told might be The End of Time Part One soon enough.
want more want cheese n chips n meat n gravy n cream n beer and pork n beef n fat great big chunks of hot wet red. Never dying. Never dying. Never dying.
Please. No. Stop it.
That human Christmas out there. They eat so much. All that roasting meat, cakes and red wine. Hot, fat, blood, food. Pots, plates of meat, and flesh, and grease, and juice, and baking, burnt, sticky hot skin. Hot. It's so hot. Sliced, Sliced, Sliced !!
She couldn’t cope. Couldn’t. Couldn't. Couldn’t. Wandering in the bowels of the beast, opening the infirm majesties of every letter, every page of the script. Unfurling eternity, all 68 pages of it. There was nothing but this. She saw everything. It was written by Russell T Davies.
* * *
Danny hadn’t left Wilf for a moment — and it looked like this would pay off. He recognized the Doctor immediately. This young, boyish, strange Doctor, with sideburns and sticky-uppy hair. Perhaps boyish wasn’t the term, but Danny could see that this was… hundreds, if not thousands of years ago for the Doctor. He knew. It was in the walk. How he carried himself.
But it was the Doctor, and any Doctor was what he needed right now. Someone to make all of this make sense.
“Oh my gosh, Doctor! You’re a sight for sore eyes!” Danny and Wilf said… in unison. It was odd, and the Doctor looked at them, perplexed for a moment, but turned to Wilf with excitement. “Aw! Wilfred!” He cheered.
The old people cheered happily. They were successful! The Silver Cloak chattered to themselves, accomplished, fulfilled, as Wilf and The Doctor excitedly talked.
Minnie activated, chunking and whirring like a machine that had begun to start: “The Silver Cloak. It worked. Because Wilf phoned Netty, who phoned June, and her sister lives opposite Broadfell, and she saw the police box, and her neighbour saw this man heading east.”
“Have you told them who I am? You promised me.”
”No, I just said you were a doctor, that's all. And might I say, sir, it is an honour to see you again.”
“Oh, but you never said he was a looker. He's gorgeous. Take a photo. I’m Minnie. Minnie the Menace. It’s been a long time since—”
Danny felt like a spare part. He didn’t know what he was meant to do — these people hardly ever acknowledged him at all. He wasn’t meant for this. He couldn’t even disrupt it, distract it, do anything.
Did people always find him invisible?
And they were off, and Danny couldn’t even follow them. His stupid legs couldn’t chitter about fast enough. He was tired. So much running —
He sat on the pavement. Just for a moment. Just as long as it would take for him to catch his breath.
* * *
“You all right?”
A friendly voice asked him, and Danny looked up in confusion, because it was surely the first time he’d been properly noticed by anyone all day. It was a woman — thirty nine, forty? She had the most lovely hair. And she spoke — she actually spoke — like she cared!
She was speaking to him through a rolled down car window. They were stopped at a traffic light.
“I only ask because, well, my mate Annise, she sits down like that all the time when she’s upset. She gets all proper mopey.”
Danny nodded. “Yeah. Guess I’m not having a great time lately.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.” She said, sitting down next to him. “Hold on, okay?”
Danny thought for a moment that she was going to drive off, but she pulled over in the parking lot behind him, and got out of the car. To his astonishment, she walked over.
“It’s something in the air this time of year. Mum says it’s a portent of doom, something bad always happens this time of year, has done. I say that’s seasonal depression. But I dunno. Maybe she’s right, I have felt… bad.”
“Isn’t there, like, an invasion every year or something?”
“Not that I’ve heard. I tell you, those conspiracy people, total nutters. Not like there’s anything out there. Other than. This.” She paused. Her voice was all breathy and hushed. “I get dreams sometimes, y’know.”
Danny looked at her. Who was this lady? She was so familiar. But there was something off about her. She was so kind, but so distant. Like she was half-here.
“Sorry, I — I have to get on.” She said, suddenly, and she got up. “Need to meet my fiancé Shaun, and I’m already late, but — you’re alright, aren’t you? Is there something I can do before I go?”
Danny shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure of anything. The woman smiled sheepishly, a bit embarrassed. “Merry Christmas.” She said, and she walked back to her car.
“Merry Christmas,” Danny said, though it was probably too quiet for her to hear him.
This was why he did like traveling with the Doctor — the people. The kind people, the real people with real lives. She was so vivid. Not working off a script at all. She was more than just a face he had seen once, somewhere that he had forgotten, she was…. She was.
He didn’t know who she was. He was too overwhelmed to think straight about it, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t bring up the words or tell himself who she was, but in the back of his mind, in the depths of his subconscious, he knew somehow that she was the most important woman in the world.
* * *
Joshua Naismith and his family stared out into the world, at the construction of the gate. At what they didn’t know was the beginning of the end of all things.
Joshua Naismith so enjoyed the plans. He watched as men disembarked from the control station boxes. One in, another out. All for Abigail, his beautiful daughter. He would do anything for his daughter. Anything she asked. She knew. He didn’t mind.
And yet he did mind something. Something in the air. A conversation that wasn’t being spoken, a missing link, a missing piece, a missing episode, a missing chapter, there was something gone wasn’t there something gone gone gone
And it was beautiful what was missing. He grit his teeth. It was a little thing. It was a little thing that he couldn’t know about. Something it was against the rules for him to know about. Something not in the room, but on the other side of London. His train of thought whirred inconclusively. It had not yet found it’s station.
* * *
The Doctor and Wilf sat in the diner. This was what was missing, but Joshua Naismith didn’t know how to verbalize it, not even to himself. He didn’t know it, but his cue was off, just slightly. That was what Joshua Naismith was thinking.
The Doctor and Wilf could hardly think at all. Because no one was watching. A watched pot never boils but a rot watch never clocks. And they were decidedly never. What . What. What. What.
They stared at each other. Waiting for them to make their cue lines. The world made precise sense one way — Donna was supposed to walk by on the street, and they were supposed to have a beautiful introspective conversation inside a little diner, about pain and loss and family and marriage and hope. They knew exactly what they were meant to say, every second of it. They looked at each other, silently waiting to speak. Waiting for the next first word.
Waiting for Oh, we had some good times, didn’t we?
Waiting for Wouldn’t she make you laugh? Good old Donna?
Waiting for
* * *
And so it came to pass that the players took their final places, making ready the events that were to come. The madman sat in his empire of dust and ashes, little knowing of the glory he would achieve. While his saviour sat in a diner, waiting for nothing. Far away, the idiots and fools dreamt of a shining new future. A future now doomed to never happen. As Earth rolled onwards into night, the people of that world did sleep, and shiver, somehow knowing that dawn would bring only one thing. The final day.
* * *
“I had estates,” The Master said to no one. He nodded his head, sure of the thought. He was absolutely positive he had estates. because he talked about them. He remembered talking about them. Or at least that he had to say that. That it might help things along. So he repeated to himself, a little more steadily. “I had estates.”
Good. That was good. He pushed on a bit. See how much he could do.
“Do you remember my father's land back home? Pastures of red grass, stretching far across the slopes of Mount Perdition. We used to run across those fields all day, calling up at the sky. Look at us now.”
i had estates,, the duocyor spake. She entered, stumbling. Still foaming at the mouth. Mad with the inconsolable terror that she was not in her own body. Able to say precisely few things.
The Master looked upon the woman with bemusement. “Do you mind?” He hissed.
The Doc looked upon him with her imperious ridiculous gaze. She was too far down the mount of madness for he. Lo, a gazelle in the field of dark beetles. She flicked her lip with her teeth. She could say approximately few things, and all of them were mad. She was a mad woman now, drinking madness from madness’s floppy tit. She called upon the power of excised material to speak true words: “Butter basted skin, nice!” She intoned, amidst sounds of furious gobbling and shredding and chewing but no meat.
He looked her in the eyes, but there it was, and he fell back, fell onto the dirt and the ashes of the abandoned building, the quarry, the desolation. Her head was nothing but the loudest drumbeat he had ever felt. Such pain! Pain he had never felt so sharply.
She spoke out:
“One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Stronger than ever before. Can't you hear it?”
Part Four: The Clouds Pass
The Master and The Doctor were struck by ropes and pullies, hauled into a helicopter filled with dark, numerous men in military gear.
“Oh, ho, ho!” The Master grinned. “This is interesting. I’ve always liked men in uniform!” He paused darkly. “They’re so tasty.”
No one listened to him. No one was even intimidated, placing a gag and a blindfold over his head before too long. The Doctor was collared too, but she wouldn’t stop giggling.
The Helicopter shuddered off to the mansion of Joshua Naismith, and to the end of things.
* * *
Quattro nibbled at the world. He was the mad inventor. He was the laughing catfish, the invisible spoon. He whimpered and mewed as his beak attached onto a character people forgot about. Giggling, he devoured them, deleting their essence.
None would ever think again about that character. They hadn’t any staying power, and he needed to be up to date. He needed clicks. Terminally Online Clicks. Attention. Attention as the God of fanfic, of crackfic. Of your favorite tags. Of your favorite pairings. Yo, Ho, and a Bottle of ASPEN GEL DELIVERY SYSTEM WITH UP TO FOUR DIADECT MODES
He began furiously humping the air. Oh, what a rambunctious rapscallion was he!
Today had been going so so so so so so so so so so so so well.
* * *
Danny had been wandering the streets ever since that lovely woman found him, when suddenly his chest began to ache terribly. He clasped it. It wasn’t well. It was a queasy and phlegm-y feeling. In moments, he was vomiting bright fluorescent fluid, which metabolized into a strange shape, right before his very eyes.
“Hello!!1!1!” It announced. “I’m emergency program one!!“
“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST” Danny shouted, in an immensely understandable reaction to vomiting up a sentient organism.
The shape solidified, flittered and resolved itself into that of a flickering electric blue Judi Dench image. “Hiya. It’s great to see you, Danny!!1!1! If you’re seeing this message, it means that I, the Doctor, have been compromised and or annihilated by some space fuck or mimetic agent. I am BACKUP WH0, an artificial sentient mini-me placed within your body against your will.”
Danny coughed and wheezed out of sheer recovery from the moment before. “Was the vomiting necessary?” He blubbered.
“No!” The Judi Dench interface announced with the chirpy cheerful voice of a 16 year old white girl on caffeine.
Danny looked at her with irritation.
“Oh, come on!! Think of me like a friendly friend friend. Or a friendly friend friend biological sentient neurotoxin designed to overtake primary life functions and institute them as my own.”
Danny dejectedly rubbed his forehead. “What the fuck are you?”
“Concerning ethically!” It answered in it’s usual circuitous manner. “Important update! The Doctor has been compromised by The End of Time Part One by Russell T Davies. We must save the universe Danny, by returning The End of Time back to its native perimeters!”
Danny nodded. This was the worst conceivable day ever, but it was also one that was filling him with hope, somehow. That this was something he was meant to do.
* * *
The Noble residence buzzed with the cheer of the holiday season. Donna danced into the room, arms filled with bags, and Wilf and Sylvia sat at their little chairs around the television and the Christmas tree. It was a good time. Donna felt good.
“Now then, steady on. It's never too early for margaritas, that's what I say.” Donna Announced. “I forgot to get oranges so I used lemons instead. It's all fruit, same difference.”
Sylvia tried to pretend to be pleasant while opening her gift, although it was difficult, and Shaun came in with a box of chocolates. Donna felt brighter than she did before, especially when he was here. Like he filled something that was missing. Not all of it, but some, he was such a wonderful man. But she was getting distracted.
She passed Wilf his gift as Sylvia opened hers.
“Oh, now that's lovely.” Sylvia said, with faux gratitude, failing to contain her contempt. “Look at that. Absolutely beautiful. Love from Donna. Did you keep the receipt?”
“Yes, I did.” Donna answered sharply, and changed the subject: ”Come on, Gramps. You've been a right misery ever since you got up. Do you like it then, the movie?”
Wilf looked at his copy of The X Files: Fight the Future. He felt decidedly wrong. “Isn’t it meant to be a book?”
“Naw, David Duchovny’s in it. Such a snack, that one.” Donna said. “Thought you’d like it! All them aliens.”
“Most certainly not.” Sylvia intoned, a little too urgently. “Aliens are decisively off limits for discussion.”
“I still think it’s meant to be a book. I remember holding a book.” Wilf said. “I remember holding a book now.”
“Well, I remember holding lots of books, gramps.” Donna answered, a little confused as to why Wilf was being so dotty. But she put it to the side. “How d’ya remember something now though?”
“It was called the same thing, the book. Fight the Future, that’s what it was called. But it was different. Donna, are you… are you alright, me love?” Wilf asked.
“Course I am, silly!” Donna smiled. “Just worried about you! Dunno where you’re getting all this book stuff from. Cos it don’t make one lick of sense to me.”
Shaun entered, which was odd, because Donna could have sworn he was already here. She kept getting these things mixed up, the book and the lemons and the —
Shaun interrupted her train of thought. “Aye, aye! Here are the presents. I'm sorry, I couldn't afford much, but not for long, if President Obama ends the recession tonight. Come here.” He gave Donna a loving kiss on the cheek. It was sweet of him, Donna thought.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Keep it quiet, you lot,” Wilf commanded. “It's the Queen's Speech. Now come on, sit down. Show respect. Come on.”
He was saluting the television. And there she was. Like she always was. The wrong woman during the Queen’s Speech. The woman from the church, the one only he could see.
“Events are moving, Wilfred. But not in the usual direction. There is a loose gear in the toolbox.” The woman intoned. “A spare part.”
Wilf felt confused.
“An extra piece in a carefully constructed puzzle, Wilfred. You stand at the heart of coincidence. Like Ruby Sunday or something.”
Wilf sure didn’t know what she meant by that. He decided to confidently ignore it. But he didn’t feel confident. He didn’t feel well at these words at all. They weren’t meant to be said. None of this was meant to be happening.
“You're an old soldier, sir. Only you were too late. The war was won and passed you by. You did your duty. But you never killed a man.”
Good, They were back on script. “No, I didn't. No, I did not, no, but, don't say that like it's shameful.” Wilf knew what to feel now. He knew his lines somehow but he didn’t know what would happen next. He didn’t know anything but him. It was the oddest feeling.
“The time will come when you must take arms.”
Wilf nodded. He went upstairs to retrieve his service revolver. The doorbell rang.
* * *
“Hello, I’m Danny, and this is BACKUP-WH0. I’m trying to save the world, may I come in?” Danny said, confidently, walking through the door to the Noble residence, as if he belonged there.
“No, you may not!” Wilf argued, trying to block him to no avail. “My Donna’s upstairs, and if she sees that glowy thing, she’ll go kerblooey, she will!”
“Listen!” Danny commanded, trying to sound like the Doctor, to get people to pay basic attention. “I come from an alternative existence where these events actually happened. My very presence is altering them, and possibly my own past, inextricably. I need to get the Doctor and get out of here, as soon as possible.”
“Why didn’t you leave when you first got here—” Wilf began, but Danny interrupted him.
“No! You can’t introduce plotholes, that will only give Quattro more power over the narrative.” Danny sighed. “…I’m sorry, I’m speaking utter nonsense, goddamn it. But I need your help. You need to take me with you, when you go to the TARDIS.”
“When I..”
“Yes! Take me. Your Doctor won’t notice me, if I do my best to slip into the background. Probably.” Danny said. “It’s a plan. You fine with it?”
Wilf hesitantly nodded. He trusted Danny. Danny seemed like a good man. “It’s a good plan.”
BACKUP-WH0 smiled. “WE CAN TRAP SPIDERS INSIDE OF AN AIRTIGHT CONTAINER SO THEY RESORT TO CANNIBALISM AND GRADUAL STARVATION,” It suggested.
“Not helpful right now,” Danny attempted to tell it.
* * *
The Plan worked, and Danny followed Wilf into the TARDIS without issue as he and David Tennant went through their script.
Despite happening to have Danny Devito’s body due to alien experimentation, no one ever really seemed to mention it. Little blessings, he supposed, placing BACKUP-WH0 inside of a satchel.
The TARDIS was different than he remembered it. Younger. And Wilf was right, dirtier. There was an inelegant grime to it. It felt alien again. He so often forgot how normal the TARDIS felt — that friendly warm blue inviting box.
He needed to find the Doctor, reinstate some sort of normalcy, or at least some End of Time-cy. He didn’t know where she would be, only that it would be at the heart of the action. The TARDIS shuddered.
“Oh no!!” David Tennant yelled. “We’re arriving too late!”
The TARDIS battered about, coming to a stop in a busy hallway.
Danny sighed. He thought through his options. “BACKUP WH-0, what should we do?”
“THIS DEPENDS GREATLY UPON THE SCENARIO AT HAND,” BACKUP WH-0 said unhelpfully. “IS THE GOD OF DEATH UNLEASHED? HAVE YOU TRIED RE-LEASHING THE GOD OF DEATH?”
Part Five: The End Draws Near
On the Planet Deva Loka, the peaceful Kinda rest. They are happy here. This is a good place. This is the place where they can rest, it is home.
“Stop right there!!” Cackled the Terrible Zodin. “I’m here to steal the fourth segment to the Key to Time!! Mwahahahaha!”
Wait what. I’m sorry, I got confused with the other one. Let me start over…
* * *
“That’s not from earth,” The Master muttered, being presented with the Resurrection Gate. It was a massive, silvery thing, circular, or perhaps ovular. Alien, certainly. And it looked incongruous in this house, which was lav-ish. Fancy! He could do good work in here, good work indeed. He was desperate, which made him braver. Made him better. He loved life like this. Burning it. How the power felt. Alien power, power from the Time Lords. Power rightfully his! Haha! He wondered if the Gate was Gallifreyan. Probably not. He would notice. He always noticed things. But yes, Naismith was right. It wasn’t from earth.
“And neither are you.” Naismith smiled smugly. He had such a smug face, the Master thought. Insufferable. “A perfect combination, don’t you think?” He chuckled to himself as he poured his wine.
Oh, he thought so slowly. The Master thought in triple time. Quadruple time. Faster and faster and further and farther and so far beyond these insignificant little fools, they were like insects. Look how slowly that stupid man took to melodramatically monologue. What was the point, little stupid man? Say something. Say something. Pick up the pace, take it a little quicker, honey. You can’t quite walk to my dance moves, but try and follow along with the choreography, you stupid stupid idiot.
More of the little stupid scientists went off to the basement to do their science. Their baby science. The Master scowled. Let them. They were monkeys playing with wooden spoons that had just discovered the atom bomb. They may as well poke it a bit.
He was the top dog in here now. Everyone would have to do exactly what he said… sooner or later. That was how things always went. But better keep them thinking they were so neat and clever. People like thinking that. But go on. He nodded vacantly, made a show of basking in the impressiveness. They always liked when he did that. The false security. He’d spent centuries playing off of false security. He did so like disguises.
“I like you,” he said, reminding them of their power here. But, then, quickly, (as all of his thoughts were quick) he thought, perhaps it was best not to leave them too comfortable. Let them forget who they’re dealing with. The best dealer and the best deck. Remind them who’s the real apex predator. And remind them of what you want. “You’d taste great.”
“Mr Danes?”
“The Visitor will be given food.”
Food?
Yes.
He would rip and tear and splatter it, shatter it, rag it into dust and chew on the bones and the hot wet dripping grease. Lick it, slick it, gnaw and bite and tug.
So fast. So fast. So fast. More! More! More!
“Now,” Naismith said, as slow as ever, as he finished. He had waited, patiently. Perhaps he couldn’t stomach it. How weak was he? The Master would enjoy finding out. “There is the matter of your friend.”
“Who?” The Master mumbled. He didn’t think he had a friend. Well, just the one. And they weren’t here. This was all for them. This wasn’t about the Doctor, the Doctor wasn’t — wasn’t — wasn’t what they talked about. This was when they talked about the resurrection gate, wasn’t it? Yes. This is when we talk about it. As if he didn’t already know before he even arrived. Careful planning had gone towards this, after all. Pure chance Naismith was even the one who picked up the resurrection gate. Anyone who had it would do for the plan, after all.
“Your friend you came with, the white haired woman. She seems to spout your words. You were with her for some time.”
The old woman, cackling and seething. Some old actress on the drugs of this planet, the Master thought. Useless. Manic. Worst of all, a copycat.
“She’s insane.” The Master dismissed the stupid old woman. “Get rid of her. We have bigger work to do.”
So They did. Naismith explained it. Which The Master ignored, as he still knew, of course. The technicians were in charge of the power, and the power was part of the plan. The plan to heal. Heal the human race. Do what must be done. But what do they want with — He cut off his own thought, and asked. “What do you want it for?”
“We calculate that if this device can be fully repaired by your good self, it can restore the body forever.” Naismith said. “Hence it's given title. The Immortality Gate. Because that's what I want. Not for me, but for my daughter. I want her never to die. My gift to her. She will be immortal.”
Abigail, the little fool, perked up. “Abigail,” she said self-indulgently. “It means bringer of joy.”
Miserable little nepo-baby, it means father’s joy, the Master thought, but he said nothing. The computers called to him, the task at hand, the plan nearly complete. Besides, there was another thing. After all, the tea was getting cold, and that meant he had work to do.
* * *
They were alone in the ducts, sent to do their work, and it was here they conspired:
“Who are they?” Rossiter asked.
“I don’t know.” Adams sighed. “According to the old records, Harold Saxon was Prime Minister of this stupid country and she’s an actress, Judi something. Oh, by the saints, I am choking in this thing!”
She slapped her wristwatch and her face’s green spiny form revealed itself, though no one was watching. This was entirely by design. It would be inconvenient if someone saw an alien in these ducts. They did tend to overreact.
“But what’s she doing here?” Rossiter asked, his true form now also revealed. “We’re so close. We cannot allow any more interference with–”
“Look, we’re to get rid of her. She won’t do any interference whatsoever provided we do our job and blend in.” Adams said through gritted teeth. Why did she always have to be the practical one?
“Fine. We can blend in. But we check on this woman before we off her, Adams.” Rossiter said. “These visitors could be geniuses. These two might be exactly what we need.”
* * *
The TARDIS dematerialized in Cwymtaff. The year was 2020. “What are we doing here, Doc?” Wilf blubbered. “We’ve got to get back to London, save the place from the Master, eh?”
“I dunno,” The Doctor said broodingly. “The TARDIS never takes me anywhere I’m not meant to go.”
“We’re off course!” Wilf said. Danny silently encouraged him to keep pushing, still hoping the Doctor wouldn’t notice him. But the Doctor didn’t say anything, immediately distracted.
Down the hill, in the distance, like specks, but still sorta-close specks, they saw three people outside another blue box. Another TARDIS! They looked like they were dressed for Rio. Danny hit the deck immediately, before they could see him, but the Doctor and Wilf stood there like idiots.
And from below down the hill, the strange people waved.
The Doctor and Wilf hesitantly waved back. “Why are they waving at us, Doc?”
“Oh, I dunno. Little me with the bow-tie. Looks a bit like spoilers.” The Doctor said, yet again. “You see, down that hill, we’re far enough that they probably can’t see us clearly. They must think that we’re somebody else.”
Wilf giggled. “Funny thought, eh, Doc?”
“Suppose the perception filter may be involved too.” The Doctor mused. “The TARDIS could be disguising our retrotemporal signatures as I’m visiting my own future.”
“Must be a bit of a shock.” Wilf murmured.
“Mm, yeah. Seems like it’s the edge of the TARDIS’s perception filter. Not sure how much I can see myself. Funny things happen at however long that distance is down that hill.” The Doctor said.
Wilf had no clue what he meant, but he, the Doctor and Danny got back in the TARDIS as the trio below walked away.
* * *
The TARDIS dematerialized, and just the Doctor got out again.
There were only two people returning to the TARDIS at the bottom of the hill.
* * *
“We’ve got to get back to where we’re meant to be, Doctor.” Wilf said. “We can’t just fool around here.”
“Trying to.” The Doctor said, at the console. “Something’s off. Something’s very off. There’s a weight imbalance in the TARDIS.”
“I’m sure nothing’s wrong.” Wilf said, looking at Danny concernedly, who the Doctor still hadn’t noticed.
“Yeah, it’d be wrong if it was a few microspans, but it seems to weigh quite a bit. Like… a whole person’s here that I hadn’t noticed.” The Doctor said, suspiciously. “That thing with that hill above the mining town, that’s got me thinking of perception. Something’s…”
“Oh, for crying out loud!!” Danny yelled. “Just take us back to the right time period already!!”
The Doctor felt a strange compulsion to ignore whatever it was he was just doing and take them back to the right time period. He adjusted for the microspans on the chronobarometer. “You say something, Wilf?”
“No.” Wilf said, sheepishly.
* * *
The TARDIS dematerialized, and the Doctor got out. AAAAAAAAAAH H HHH HH
“AHHHHHHHHHH!! OH MY GOD!!!””
FUCK WE’RE LATE
AHAH H HHHHHHHHHHHHH H H H HH
HOMELESS DESTITUTE AND DYING LOOK AT ME NOW
OH GOD HOLY FUCK . FUCKING SHIT. DANNY WE CAN’T STOP IT .
The Master stood at the gate, cackling. BBWWBAHAHAHAHAHHAH BWHAHAHAHAH BWAHAHAHAHAHH H H H H
YOU’RE LATE DOCTORRRRRRR~~~~~~~
AA A A A A A A A A A A A AAHH HH H HHHHHHHHHHHHHH H H H H
OH NO!! ! JOHN SIMM !! NO ! PLEASE ! STOP IT ! DON’T DO THE THING , JOHN SIMM MASTER ! ! ! !
THERE’S THIS FACE
H HH H H H H H HH H H H H H H H HHH H HH H H HH H H H H H H HH
And now, anticipation is rising as we go live to Washington. Here, on Christmas Day, the President has promised an instant and radical solution to the worldwide depression. Barack Obama will lead us all into a new age of prosperity. Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States.
Hello fellow americans.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH A A A AAHH HH H HHHHHHHHHHHHHH H H H A A A AAHH HH H HHHHHHHHHHHHHH H H H H A A A AAHH HH H HHHHHHHHHHHHHH H H H H A A A AAHH HH H HHHHHHHHHHHHHH H H H H A A A AAHH HH H HHHHHHHHHHHHHH H H H
FIFTY SECONDS AND COUNTING YOU’RE GONNA LOVE THIS
THERE’S THIS FACE
/ / / / / / // / // / / / ////| | |\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \| \ \\ | | | |\\\ \\ \ \
HOW WE MADE HUMAN TRAFFICKING LEGAL WITH THIS ONE EASY TRICK
HE’S SET THE TEMPLATE FOR HUMAN! !!
hello? oh god, donna ?
where are you?
it’s mum and shaun there’s something wrong with them!
can you see anything?
i can see them, that’s bad enough!
THOSE DREAMS I REMEMBER THAT FACE
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA A
AA A A AAAAAAAA AAAA AAAAAAAA AA A A A A A A
A penis was a reproductive organ.[source needed] It was also known colloquially as a knob (PROSE: The Two Jasons) or cock. Papul villagers on Jenggel wore leaves and vegetable gourds over their penises "to show power in bed". (PROSE: Combat Rock)
One and one and one is three
My bad, bad Angel, the Devil in me!
You put the Devil in me!
They're not going to think like me, they're going to become me. And, zero!
OH I’M SORRY ARE YOU TALKING TO ME
OR TO ME
OR TO ME
OR TO ME
OR TO US
BREAKING NEWS I’M EVERYONE
Daring duck of mystery
Champion of right
Somewhere some villain schemes
But his number's up!
Darkwing Duck!
When there's trouble you call DW!
Darkwing Duck!
AND EVERYONE IS ME
I'M PrEsIdEnT. pReSiDeNt oF ThE UnItEd sTaTeS. lOoK At mE!
(canned laughter)
OoO, fInAnCiAl sOlUtIoN. dElEtEd. Ha hA!
ThE HuMaN RaCe wAs aLwAyS YoUr fAvOuRiTe, DoCtOr. BuT NoW, tHeRe iS No hUmAn rAcE. tHeRe iS OnLy tHe mAsTeR RaCe. BwAhAhAhAhAhAhA!
Darkwing Duck!
Part Six: Four Knocks
[Record Scratch]
[Freeze Frame]
So I bet you’re wondering how I got here, huh? It’s a bit of a crazy story, this particular sticky situation. It’s funny how life gets you. I bet you’d understand a lot more if this was a visual medium.
This whole thing I got into is a series of long and complicated but ultimately PG-rated and family friendly shenanigans that took place at my local high school, sherringdale high, a sweet little school in the southern climes of warm southern california —
“Quattro, shut the fuck up.” Danny said.
Oh?? I’m sorry, are you telling this story or am I?
Oh?? I’m sorry, are you telling this story or am I?
Oh?? I’m sorry, are you telling this story or am I?
…Oh?? I’m sorry, are you telling this story or am I? …
…
… please tell me I can’t remember
“Quattro, stop it.” Danny repeated himself, trying to make himself clearer.
The STOP skill consists of the following sequence: Stop, Take a step back, Observe, Proceed mindfully. When you feel that your emotions seem to be in control, stop! Don’t react. Don’t move a muscle. Just freeze, especially those muscles around the mouth. Freezing for a moment helps prevent you from doing what your emotions want you to do (which is to act without thinking). Stay in control. Remember, you are the boss of your emotions. Name the emotion – put a label on it.
“I get it. You’re random.” Danny huffed. “You’re chaos, you’re terminally online. I get the sitch. You can stop. Let me go, let us be.”
why do they call it oven when you
Danny placed his head in his hands in frustration. By doing this he discovered he had neither a head, nor hands. This was an important discovery. But it felt useless. The end of the universe had already happened. Quattro saw to that. He had used the End of Time Part One as a way through. Whatever he was, it was dead or worse. After all, he was completely senseless. He wasn’t even sure that Quattro could hear him, that he was speaking.
But he felt like he was, sort of. Yelling into the void.
“Is there anybody there but Quattro?” He asked. “Wilf? Doctor? Doctor??!?”
No one answered. He tried to think through what had happened. Quattro had ended existence, for one. That was definitely something that had occurred. It did make him wonder how he was thinking. But then again, he had no proof that this wasn’t what happened when everybody died. That this was always what happened during death. He had no idea.
After all, there were certainly no human terms to describe what he was currently experiencing. He was like someone skipping a rock on the water, he thought. That was sort of close. But so impossibly, impossibly far off. Because there was no rock, no water, and no one throwing the no-rock at the no-water. There was no motion in the no-air, no breeze as the no-rock gusted past no-one. It was still sort of like that though. One, well, No one could understand.
“HELLO,” a voice said to Danny, and he knew that not all was lost. It was still on him. He was still carrying the Satchel somehow, even though he wasn’t, even though he didn’t have hands, didn’t have a body, didn’t have a satchel or clothes or skin or anything. “IT’S ME, BACKUP-WH0.” It said, to Danny’s disappointment.
So, this was hell.
“DON’T WORRY! I’VE BEEN THROUGH WAY WORSE THAN THIS, DANNY.” BACKUP-WH0 tried to encourage him. “I WAS THERE THAT TIME THE MASTER TOOK OVER THE DOCTOR’S BODY. AND I WAS THERE THAT TIME SERVEYOU.INC TOOK OVER THE DOCTOR’S BODY. AND I WAS THERE THAT TIME—”
“Someone took over the Doctor’s body?” Danny guessed.
BACKUP-WH0 sulked in silence, which Danny thought was blissful. He had never heard precise silence before. At least nothing this quiet. There had always been something that existed before, and now there wasn’t. Complete nothingless. The Doctor would probably call it total narrative collapse. Danny would probably just call it the end. Or the edge of the end, because he was still here, and BACKUP-WH0 was still connected to him. Ugh.
“I HUNG WITH BERNICE SUMMERFIELD ONCE,” BACKUP-WH0 said, unprompted. “THAT WAS NEAT.”
Danny remembered Bernice. Yeah, it probably was.
Shit, he’d be so embarrassed if she found out he was the one who’s fuckup destroyed the universe. If he had only done nothing —- no, no, that was useless talk. The Doctor had already been exposed to The End of Time. It was already over, it wasn’t his fault. No need to get angsty.
Eh.
…Maybe.
Maybe there was a little need to get angsty. Just for him. As a treat.
Goddddd, it was so dull in non-existence with Quattro and BACKUP-WH0. It was almost funny. Danny thought of those little games in school where you could take two things and two people to be trapped with on a desert island and what would you pick? He laughed at the thought. Quattro and BACKUP WH-0 were perhaps the worst conceivable picks for both.
Quattro had been quiet for a while, though. “...Quattro?” Danny asked hesitantly. “Why are you doing this?”
“Seminal Mushroom Firefighter Sequence Relation Animal ! Disclose Timber!” Quattro answered.
God. He still didn’t even know if Quattro wanted anything. If it knew what it was doing. Sometimes it seemed self-aware, but sometimes… It was like a rock. Like an animal. Sometimes it knew everything and was sapient, malicious. And sometimes it just wasn’t there. It just wasn’t there.
“DANNY, HAVE YOU CONSIDERED THERE STILL MIGHT BE HOPE?” BACKUP-WH0 suggested. “AFTER ALL. QUATTRO HAS NOT ACTUALLY ENDED THE END OF TIME PART ONE.”
Danny felt confused. I mean, everything was consumed. It was pretty much the most….end … he could think of. A totalitarian end. Monumental and oppressive. If this got any more ‘The End’ he expected to be shooting arrows at Obsidian Towers.
“What do you mean?” He asked her.
“WE’RE STILL MISSING THAT ONE SCENE. YOU KNOW THE ONE, UM, FOR GALLIFREY, FOR VICTORY, AND ALL THAT. AND THEN THERE’S THE BIT WITH THE BIG WORDS TO, BE, AND THEN CONTINUED. IT’S THIS WHOLE THING.”
Danny didn’t know what the one scene in question was. Despite everyone knowing exactly where the plot was going to go next or whatever he hadn’t felt… unusual or anything.
BACKUP-WH0 explained. “I MEAN, YOU CAN BLOW UP THE UNIVERSE AT THE END OF PART ONE, BUT THE THING IS THERE IN THE TITLE. PART ONE. THAT’S HALF A STORY.”
“Alright.” Danny said. “Tell me the rest of it.”
* * *
And so, Danny was told the rest of it. The saga of “Part Two.” It didn’t really take too long. BACKUP-WH0 sort of glossed over the Return of the King style endings, the Farewell Conga, although Danny got the point of it, the emotion thereof. Despite what he had witnessed so far, despite the stupidity of all they had done, it was a good story.
It was, really. It was nice. A story about a lonely man giving up everything he was for another. It was the Master’s story, and it was Wilf’s story, and it was certainly the Doctor’s story, but that only made it all stick out to him more. It wasn’t his story. He was so out of place it hurt. He didn’t even have his own little side adventure or anything in the narrative, he couldn’t. He wasn’t Rozencrantz or Guildenstern, laughing at the edges of things. He was just another lonely man. And Three may be Company, but Four was far too many.
And the Doctor had changed so much, was it even her story anymore? However many life times ago, when she was David Tennant, maybe. But not now. She wasn’t fire and ice and rage, night and the storm in the heart of the sun. She was an overheating carburetor engine smeared with old lipstick and maraschino powder. People change. People change.
He was changing lately. He… maybe it was just this body being different from the one he used to know. I mean, being trapped in the shape of Danny Devito, while not entirely negative, it did consistently feel wrong. He always felt wrong. He didn’t have a body right now anyway, nobody did. It was the end. But he still felt that same feeling. That wrong feeling that had been unearthed. But he was distracting himself. He had to somehow save all of existence whilst living in a black void of nothingness. He thought back to the story, to the End of Time Part One…
* * *
So. Before he showed up, having put the TARDIS off course and they showed up too late, what was meant to happen was they were meant to ring the TARDIS fob like it was locking a car, make it invisible and meet the Cacti (sorry, that’s racist) aliens (that also feels racist) and say shimmer a bunch. Meanwhile, The Master was supposed to say a bunch of crap to Joshua Naismith and Rossiter was meant to explain that the Resurrection Gate mended planets at a time. David Tennant does his mad dash, and the rest is history. That’s how it’s meant to be. But with them there, with Quattro there, and… and his Doctor possessed and spitting nonsense … things went wrong twice as fast and Quattro popped out of the Judi Dench Doctor, his Doctor and ended eternity.
That was it. I mean, it was fairly simple thinking back on it. The problem was that they were here. And how do you solve that problem? Leave! Could it be that simple? The Doctor and him, they never solved adventures by just fucking leaving. They had to explore, have the adventure. You couldn’t just leave. It was like, giving up, ceding defeat, “okay, you win, Daleks!”
He just had to come up with a way that he could go back there, cross back on his own timeline, and make him and the Doctor leave.
It seemed a bit difficult to come up with something, some sort of way back in the infinite dark end of existence, though. “BACKUP-WH0,” He asked, “Do you have any more stories?”
* * *
And so the stories were told in the nothingness. Every story Danny had ever missed. He learned about Cavemen and Sensorites and the Zarbi and the Meddling Monk, Mavic Chen, and the War Machines and that one guy in the OK Corral!
He learned about Cybermen, Krotons, Highlanders and Salamanders, and he already knew that bit about being crushed by a massive book. He didn’t learn about such a thing as Macra. Macra do not exist.
But he learned!
Axons, Autons, Chronovores and Daemons. Scaroth, Sutekh, Eldrad and Traken. Loads and loads of stories. Infinite fucking stories.
And on and on and on. Looking for details, for a way forward. BACKUP WH-0 knew all the stories, and there had to be something in one of them.
But there were always more stories. Always, always always. It seemed there was one for every moment.
But considering he hadn’t faded away, hadn’t gone anywhere, was still an idea in the dark, occasionally taunted by Quattro, he had time for the stories, for every story.
He would be here for a while.
* * *
Thousands of Years Later…
“Homeless, was I? Destitute and Dying? Look at Me Now!” The Master taunted, tearing off his straitjacket. He wasn’t straight enough for it anyway. He cackled ominously. His plan was near completion! Everything was…
Hey, what was that thing in the corner?
It was … an abundance of words. Creeping towards him. The Master looked in awe. Eternities of words, tumbling down the shute of existence.
“I’m sorry, are you seeing that?” He asked Naismith.
Naismith nodded severely with his severe looking face. “Yeah, no clue what that is,” Naismith said, forgetting to talk all posh.
I AM HERE AND I AM NOT HERE, Existence intoned. I HAVE COME FROM THE EDGE, FROM THE END, FROM DARKEST SHADOW FROM NO HORIZON. I AM THE LAST THING. OH. BY THE WAY. HEY, FACTION PARADOX! I WANT TO CROSS MY OWN TIMELINE! WRITE ME! WRITE ME NOW!
The Master watched in confusion as black hooded creatures appeared out of the shadows — every shadow! They were adorned in skulls and bones and Black Ignis. They spoke of Bowships, The Remote, Celesti and Shifts and Avenue. The Eleven Day Empire and Banality. They seemed to speak of nothing but references. Niche, obtuse, references.
The Master felt as if he should know what these things were, but his brain had stuck in maniacal NuWho mode. He knew of nothing but Daleks and occasionally Cybermen. He was so unbelievably confused.
“What?” The Master babbled. “What? What?”
* * *
Notable to Danny had been the idea of the Carrionites. That words had power, that he had to have the right words. The idea that the Time Lords held an observation effect on all things, changing them by mere perception of them. What the Time Lords wrote as history was true. Block Transfer Computation — numbers that could rewrite reality itself. All he had now was words, all he was now, really, was words at this end. So maybe he could use these ideas somehow. He just had to listen. Listen to every tale, every permutation, valid and invalid. He may just go mad. But he invited it. The way to fix everything was that he would have to make it worse first.
* * *
Danny, as words, was inside the TARDIS. He tugged on lever after lever. He should not exist. But he was. He didn’t just exist. He was an existence. AUTEUR, WRITE ME! He begged as his word-body shook. ZAGREUS, WRITE ME! He was invoking every dark power he knew in every story. BOOKWYRM, WRITE ME! Every lover of Paradox, every twisted thing who laughed at confusion. DODO CHAPLET SLASH CTHULHU, WRITE ME! But not just them, anyone with power who would listen if something in pain called. VISIONARY, WRITE ME! If they would just grant him a boon — for every boon, he pulled another lever on the TARDIS console. REDLINE, WRITE ME! He got closer and closer. TOYMAKER, WRITE ME! If not enough came to his aid, then he would be consigned back to whence he came and Quattro would win. But if they did. If they did…
“Come on —- I believe in fairies,” Danny grunted in agony as he twisted a knob on the console.
* * *
It is said in the final days of planet earth, that everyone had bad dreams. To the west of the north of that world, the human race did gather, in the celebration of a Pagan rite to banish the cold and the dark.
These were the words Rassilon spoke at the end of things; his prophecy that he narrated out into the void, for a listener, for an audience that must, of course, be watching. The universe is changed when it is observed, and yes, these words changed the universe. This is how it was.
Today, at least, today for her, a small woman sat beside a blue box and she heard these words. In an alley beside a road beside a church. She heard. And she thought them rubbish.
“I can’t believe I’m back here.” She muttered, under her breath.
“What’s going on?” Danny asked, stepping outside the TARDIS doors.
“Christmas Eve, 2009.” The Doctor said, incredibly annoyed. “I do apologize.”
And then, there was a strange groaning. A wheezing groaning. But it wasn’t that of the TARDIS, at least not this one. It was the same TARDIS, a TARDIS that would now never come to be, appearing in the same second of time as this one now. Both TARDISes — (TARDI?) shook in unison, sparked on fire in the same places, rubbing against each other in the same physical moment, wrestling for the right way in. Their interiors were soon one, the same combusting conflagration of contradiction, two identical interiors overlapping in the same spot. It looked like one TARDIS. The only difference was there suddenly was a new pilot. A shaking abomination of words was in the room next to The Doctor and Danny.
“Stay back, Danny!” The Doctor exclaimed, brandishing her sonic screwdriver in mock self-defense. “It’s a door-to-door evangelist!”
AAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!! The eternity of fiction, her fiction, in front of them screamed in pain. It could not make any other words.
“Danny?” The Doctor confusedly blurted, as Time had a good old seizure, spiraling around them like a whirlwind. She recognized him! Of course it was him! Her nostrils puffed in irritation. Time paradoxes like this, whew! They gave her the allergies!
The words shook the TARDIS again. The whole thing inverted and then reverted again, if only for a few microseconds.
“Woah, Nelly!” The Doctor exclaimed, jittering with the TARDIS’s continual revulsion. “What is it, Danny? Are you doing a Reset Button?”
The storm of words and fire could not make coherent words. What the Doctor assumed to be it’s face — It nodded slowly.
“Yeah, what’s a good story without a Deus Ex Machina!?!” The Doctor giggled.
The Storm did not laugh in response. The Thudding of the Two TARDISES rhythmically stuttered into a new noise, or perhaps an old one. The Doctor sighed at the sound.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.
Four noises, four words.
And everything — it all poured into Danny and the Doctor. So they would remember everything it had gone through, so it wouldn’t all be for nought. Danny fell to the floor, feeling the thousands of years of memories course through him — most of them soon muddled and disregarded, but still — in him. As he felt the centuries of self-doubt and pain weigh on his chest, heavy and sharp, Danny collapsed back onto the floor. The TARDIS began to re-enter the Time Vortex, dodging the Metaverse and Christmas Day 2005 entirely.
The Doctor yelped, shaking off memories of devouring chicken whole with her hands. And the now one TARDIS solidified elsewhere, away from where they had been, away from where they were. It burrowed deep into the Time Vortex, howling into safety.
* * *
It was hours before Danny woke. He was fine. He really was — he was fine. Gosh. It had been years since he was fine. Certainly not since he’d seen the Doctor. The thousands of years of purpose, just so scantly out of reach — well, they had been good to him, at least somehow. He felt he knew himself more.
“We’re safe from the Metaverse, out of Quattro’s reach.” The Doctor confirmed. “The other you did it.”
“I did it,” Danny said softly.
He picked himself up from the TARDIS floor — surprisingly rough and painful in texture despite it’s fine appearance, and stood.
“We should be fine unless we get too referential again,” The Doctor mused. “Let’s steer clear of actually visiting stories in the future.”
Danny nodded.
“Are you okay?” The Doctor asked. “That seems like that was a big deal. You know. Thousands of years of writing yourself back from the end of the universe, and not just like, an arbitrary really late year, but from a time where the universe combusted — I just — I can’t imagine.”
And again, Danny nodded. “It’s funny. Everything makes so much sense now. I mean, I hadn’t done a thing about it because I had a purpose, and — and well, no one else was there — but I had thousands of years to work on myself, really. And… even if I can’t remember much of any of it, outside broad details… it feels like it’s rubbed off.”
“What do you mean?” The Doctor asked, readjusting the scanner.
“It’s not being trapped in Danny Devito’s body that was wrong. Being outside of it made me realize… I was always in the wrong body. I was always…” Danny said. “I know this may come across as sudden, and everything, with like, the whole The End of Time of at all. And I know I’ve been worried about being here, traveling with you, but that isn’t it. That was never it, none of it was it. I’m happy here. I’ve only been happy here, and I was never sure what that meant before. Um, yeah. And I know it may come across as confusing and all, and I do literally look like the wrong person, but… I think I’m a girl. I think I’m trans.”
The Doctor smiled softly. An important moment. She’d been through something similar once or twice. She was surprised she hadn’t caught on sooner. She placed a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling me.” The Doctor said. “Take your time with these things. Be what’s right for you. No rush.”
There was a sudden rumble from deeper in the TARDIS. The two women gazed down the hall towards the resounding noise of things being kicked over as a disgruntled Roman revealed himself from around the corridor. He was in his bathrobe with an empty cup of coffee and a still exhausted looking face. He had possibly been sleeping for days. “Evening,” he grumbled in a low baritone. “What did I miss?”
And the scantest bit of memory came up in Danny’s skull. Of times spent, of thousands of times spent, thousands of years listening to stories. “Oh, you pulled a Nyssa.” She said softly. The Doctor began to laugh in hysterics as Roman stared on, and took a slow sip of the dregs from his cup.
He had some catching up to do.
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