Chapter One Hundred: The Day of the Doctor

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We follow together — my Doctor and I in our Tardis, Clara and hers in the other. Beyond the doors, waiting, stands the first of the three, the one that starts and ends it all, the grey-haired Doctor.

He stands in a barn of pale oak and discarded metalwork. Sunlight streams through the rafters, hot and dry. Behind him is a curious white and gold box. At its very top protrudes a giant, red gem.

"Like I said, he hasn't done it yet," Clara warns us.

He glares stubbornly around at us and turns back to the box. "Go away, all of you, now. This is for me."

My Doctor steps forward, warily surveying his surroundings. "These events should be time locked. We shouldn't even be here."

"So something let us through."

He keeps his back to us now. "Go back," he pleads, sadder than I have ever heard him before. "Go back to your lives. Go and be the Doctor that I could never be. Make it worthwhile."

His hand rests on the gem but he doesn't push it. Not yet. And his future speaks. "All those years, burying you in my memory."

"Pretending you didn't exist. Keeping you a secret, even from myself."

"Pretending you weren't the Doctor when you were the Doctor more than anybody else."

They come closer. "You were the Doctor on the day it wasn't possible to get it right."

All three stand at the device, their hands on the button. I hold my breath, waiting for my husband's next words. "But this time..."

"You don't have to do it alone."

Bridging the gap, Clara takes my hand in hers and we watch on, hearing the only response he can possibly form in the face of such kindness, such forgiveness. "Thank you."

"What we do today is not out of fear or hatred. It is done because there is no other way."

"And it is done in the name of the many lives we are failing to save."

But something is wrong. I can sense it in the way Clara's grip tightens. The others look to her, too. "What? What is it?"

She shakes her head as a tear trails down her cheek. "Nothing."

"No. It's something. Tell me," her friend says.

"You told me you wiped out your own people. I just— I never pictured you doing it, that's all."

The sunlight fades. All of a sudden, we stand in the dark, in the ashes of a burning planet.

"What is it?" she asks, looking around in panic.

As always, the grey-haired Doctor remains stoic. "Nothing. It's a projection."

A child runs past them. My Doctor is the only one who watches after her. He sees all of them. He always has.

She gasps. "These are the people you're going to burn?"

Gunfire sounds like thunder a hundred miles off. "There isn't anything we can do," he murmurs.

"He's right. There isn't another way, there never was. Either I destroy my own people or let the universe burn."

My hand falls from hers and I hug myself tightly, relying on the comfort of the smooth fabric of my wedding dress, watching the destruction. Clara looks out at them alone. "Look at you... the three of you — the warrior, the hero... and you."

Her Doctor, her friend, approaches. "And what am I?" he asks her. There is no offence behind his question, no threat, just despair.

"Have you really forgotten?"

"Yes. Maybe, yes."

Smiling in pained sympathy, I look to him through my own tears. "I don't believe that for a second. You've always cared."

"We've got enough warriors," she tells him, "any old idiot can be a hero."

"Then what do I do?"

A despairing chuckle escapes her, her shoulders tensing for a moment. "What you've always done." He doesn't understand. Her gaze softens, pitying. "Be a doctor. You told me the name you chose was a promise. What was the promise?"

It isn't him who answers, but my love, watching me from across the barn and seeing all of the ones he lost before me in my face. "Never cruel or cowardly."

"Never give up," his past recalls, "never give in."

The illusion fades. It is light again, but still, the cloud hangs.

Pouting in the early stages of a dare, the other Doctor looks to himself. Mine takes the bait. "You're not actually suggesting that we change our own personal history?" he whispers almost conspiratorially.

"We change history all the time. I'm suggesting something far worse."

Wrinkled eyes narrowed, the third looks between them. "What, exactly?"

The beginnings of a smirk pull at the corners of his lips. "Gentlemen, I have had four hundred years to think about this. I've changed my mind." With a buzz of his sonic, the box collapses back in on itself, the button disappearing.

"There's still a billion billion Daleks up there, attacking."

"Yes, there is. There is!" he cheerfully replies.

Coming to me, my Doctor whirls me around. "Oh, yes! But there's something those billion billion Daleks don't know."

He points triumphantly to us. "'Cause if they did, they'd probably send for reinforcements."

"What?" Clara huffs, glancing apprehensively back to the box, then to the both of them. "What don't they know?"

"This time, there's three of us."

"Oh!" the grey-haired Doctor cries. He clutches his head. "Oh! Oh, yes, that is good! That is brilliant!"

Mine is the last to catch on. He almost drops me in his excitement. "Oh, oh, oh! I'm getting that too — that is brilliant!" Racing to our Tardis, he jumps, giving her painted surface a high-five before running back to plant a kiss on my cheek. He soon thinks better of it and gives me a proper one.

"I've been thinking about it for centuries."

"She didn't just show me any old future, she showed me exactly the future I needed to see!"

We all hesitate, looking to the grey-haired Doctor. "Eh?"

But he is too lost in his celebration, clasping his hands together and shouting to the heavens, "Oh, Bad Wolf Girl, I could kiss you!"

"Sorry," I stammer in disbelief, "did you just..."

"Did you just say 'Bad Wolf'?"

He doesn't reply. It is Clara who speaks next, "So what are we doing? What's the plan?"

"The Dalek fleets are surrounding Gallifrey, firing on it constantly."

My Doctor strides over to her, lost in the thrill of the revelation. "The Sky Trench is holding, but what if the whole planet just disappeared?"

Sharing her questioning look, I only shrug. She grimaces. "Tiny bit of an ask."

"The Daleks would be firing on each other, they'd destroy themselves in their own crossfire."

"Gallifrey would be gone, the Daleks would be destroyed, and it would look to the rest of the universe as if they'd annihilated each other."

Catching on, I shout, slapping his chest lightly. "Oh my Gods. Oh my Gods!"

Still, she isn't so sure. "But where would Gallifrey be?"

"Frozen. Frozen in an instant of time... safe and hidden away."

"Exactly."

"Like a painting."

——————

So we're off again, each in our Tardises. Powering through the last few checks at the console, I run back around to my Doctor's side. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Then this is it. Saving Gallifrey. Gods know you deserve it." I don't voice my other thoughts, the wishes that I too could have one last chance to save Capitis. This is his moment. I kiss his forehead and hurry out of the way just as the camera comes on, projecting his image straight to Gallifrey's war room.

"Hello, hello. Gallifrey High Command, this is the Doctor speaking," comes the call from another Tardis.

"Hello! Also the Doctor. Can you hear me?"

"Also the Doctor. Standing ready."

Another voice comes, "Dear God, there are three of them. All of my worst nightmares at once."

Ignoring my quiet laugh, he announces, "General, we have a plan."

"We should point out, at this moment, it is a fairly terrible plan."

"And almost certainly won't work."

The other Doctor, displayed on the screen, rolls his eyes. "I was happy with 'fairly terrible'."

"Sorry. Just thinking out loud."

"We're flying our three Tardises into your lower atmosphere."

Helping at the controls on the other side of the pistons, I send him an encouraging smile. He fails to hide his completely. "We're positioned at equidistant intervals round the globe." He mutters under his breath, "'Equidistant' — so grown up."

The grey-haired Doctor speaks next, "We're just about ready to do it."

"'Ready to do' what?"

Their expressions harden, determination powering them through. "We're going to freeze Gallifrey."

For a moment, it seems as though they haven't heard. Then the General scoffs, incredulous at the suggestion, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Using our Tardises, we're gonna freeze Gallifrey in a single moment in time."

"You know, like those Stasis Cubes? A single moment in time held in a parallel pocket universe."

"Except we're going to do it to a whole planet."

He nods, firmly adding, "And all the people on it."

The exasperation in the General's voice is evident. "What?" he scoffs. "Even if that were possible, which it isn't, why would you do such a thing?"

They all tense visibly, too aware of what else would happen. "Because the alternative is burning."

"And I've seen that."

"And I never want to see it again."

My fingers close around the edge of the console to stabilise myself, tightening until my knuckles turn white. I wait for him to give the response we need. "We'd be lost in another universe... frozen in a single moment. We'd have nothing."

But the other Doctor insists, "You would have hope. And right now, that is exactly what you don't have."

He laughs, despairing. "You're delusional. The calculations alone would take hundreds of years."

I can hear it in his voice, something else he shares with my Doctor: the excitement, the growing anticipation as he prepares to share his genius plan. "Oh, hundreds and hundreds."

"But don't worry. I started a very long time ago."

The pistons roar, the ship humming all around us. Another voice speaks from the open channel, one I have not heard before. "Calling the War Council on Gallifrey, this is the Doctor."

"You might say... I've been doing this all my lives."

At the chorus of voices, I rush around, peering over his shoulder at the screen. A dozen windows scatter across it, all of him — old and young, fair and dark-haired, all babbling away to themselves, all indisputably him. My Doctor all across his timeline.

The ship shakes violently. "The Daleks know that something is happening. They're increasing their firepower!" Hearing the cry, I utter a prayer amidst the chaos.

"Do it, Doctor. Just do it. Do it!"

I look to him and offer an encouraging nod. Together, we take a deep breath.

"Okay. Gentlemen, we're ready. Geronimo!"

With one last exhilarated grin, he pushes the throttle all the way up. "Allons-y!"

"Oh, for God's sake. Gallifrey stands!"

——————

"I don't suppose we'll ever know if we actually succeeded." Back in the National Gallery, sat on one of the benches between Clara and I, the grey-haired Doctor drops yet another sugar cube into his tea. "But at worst, we failed doing the right thing, as opposed to succeeding in doing the wrong."

She raises her eyebrows. "Life and soul, you are."

The three Tardises stand in a row beside us. Ours is in the middle, as we are in many ways, I suppose. Its paint is not as fresh and vivid blue as the future version, nor as chipped and dull as the past. It is well lived in, though. Our home.

Stood before us, the others block the view to the painting through which we had come to the Black Archive. "What is it actually called?" my Doctor asks, peering at it through his oblong glasses.

"Well, there's some debate," his future replies, putting on his own. "Either 'No More' or 'Gallifrey Falls'."

The man beside me hums his amusement. "Not very encouraging."

"How did it get here?"

"No idea."

I don't miss the hint of curiosity on his voice. Even with a different face, he is so readable. He still doesn't like the idea of not knowing; not for long, anyway. His life is an endless pursuit of answers, with half of the questions yet unknown.

My new husband sips his tea. He takes it sweet like the others and, as always, I take note of the number of sugar cubes he adds. I keep a mental file of these things so that I can make him smile with the perfect cup or notice when his preferences change. Apparently, this particular liking also does not change with time. "There's always something we don't know, isn't there?" he muses.

"One should certainly hope so." The grey-haired Doctor stands. "Well, gentlemen, it has been an honour... and a privilege."

My husband inclines his head. "Likewise."

The other follows suit. "Doctor."

He returns the gesture. "And if I grow to be half the man that you are, Clara Oswald, I shall be happy indeed."

Choking on her tea, she hurriedly sets her cup down. "That's right, aim high!" she jokes, embracing him and air-kissing each cheek.

Then it's my turn. I hug him — tighter than he expects. He holds his breath just for an instant. Smiling, I press my lips against his forehead. "For a first meeting, I think this went quite well, don't you?"

"I look forward to the next," he says with a chuckle. "And I shall most certainly enjoy getting to know you."

"So will I."

A crease forms across his lined brow. He looks to the others with a glimmer of uncertainty. "I won't remember this, will I?"

The other Doctor grimaces. "The time streams are out of sync. You can't retain it, no."

"So I won't remember that I tried to save Gallifrey rather than burn it. I'll have to live with that," he quietly realises. Then, blinking, he clears it from his mind. "But for now, in this moment... I am the Doctor again. Thank you." His attention shifts towards the Tardises and he hesitates. "Which one is mine?"

I point to the one closest to him. He disappears inside. As his hand leaves the door, closing it behind him, I spot a faint gold aura around it. I suppose this is it, then. The hope in his future is closer than I thought.

The Tardis disappears, leaving the four of us. My Doctor sighs and takes off his glasses. "I won't remember either, so you might as well tell me."

His other self tenses. "Tell you what?" he bluffs.

"Where it is we're going that you don't want to talk about."

He sobers instantly. His eyes dart over to Clara and I, his jaw clenched. "I saw Trenzalore... where we're buried. We die in battle among millions."

Taking a shuddering breath, I slump onto the bench. My focus fixes on the rings sat side by side on my finger; silver and gold, him and me. "That's not how it's supposed to be," I hear him insist.

"That's how the story ends. Nothing we can do about it. Trenzalore is where you're going."

He is quiet for a moment. It doesn't take long for him to form his response, nonchalant as ever. "Oh, never say nothing. Anyway, good to know my future is in safe hands." Coming over to us, he sets down his teacup. "Keep a tight hold on it, Clara."

"On it."

Taking her hand, he gives it a cheeky peck before leading the way to our Tardis. "Trenzalore..." he muses to himself. "We need a new destination because I don't wanna go. Ah, well. We'll figure it out, won't we, Inara?"

I hum, half focused. Feeling his expectant gaze, I pat his cheek. "You go ahead. I just need a moment."

Clara, too, gets the message. She clears her throat and gestures towards their ship. "I'm just gonna... go." She hurries past me, whispering, "Good luck."

Then it's just us, alone. I wander over to his Tardis and push the door open, catching one more glimpse of its silver and blue interior. "It's different," I note.

The other Doctor remains by the painting. He watches me closely, hands at his sides. They curl into fists for just a second. Then he smiles his sheepish smile at me. "I needed a change."

"I like it."

His back turns to me as he sits on the bench, fixing his attention on the painting once more. "You should go. Don't want to keep your new husband waiting."

Arms crossed, I watch him closely. "I'm with him right now, aren't I?"

Unlike me, the Doctor is unaware of his habits, tics and mannerisms. He probably doesn't even notice the way his shoulders tense up the way they always do when he's upset about something. His head lowers. "We're not the same."

Carefully, I approach. There is space enough on the bench littered with abandoned teacups for me to join him. My hands clasp together in my lap. "I've gathered," I quietly reply. "Is that why I'm not with you right now?"

That is enough to catch his attention. His eyes meet mine, wide, green as a forest, older than ever before. "What?" he asks, almost a gasp.

"Well, did I die of old age?"

He immediately diverts his gaze back to the floor, his jaw set once more. "No."

"Did I get left behind? Lost?" This time, I get no answer. I scoff, "Then that's it, isn't it? Some kind of, I don't know, Time Lord divorce. Whatever it was, I lost him."

"'Lost'?" he cautiously echoes.

I shrug helplessly. "There's only one way that we split up, and that's if things go wrong... or if he stops loving me. Because that's not an option for me. Gods know I've tried before."

The moments pass and still, he can't seem to find the right answer. Then, wetting his lips, he seeks reassurance in my gaze. "I never stopped loving you."

Hope rises in my chest, bubbling and warm. A relieved smile brightens my face.

Then I see something in his eyes. Something I wish I hadn't. Sometimes, he is just too readable. I see sadness. A deep, aching sorrow too shadowed in his eyes to ever be forgotten.

My face falls, the light fading from me. A weight forms in my chest and throat. Tears sting my eyes and blur my vision. My first attempts at speech are useless, just forming ragged gasps for air. "H-How long?"

He freezes, panicked. "What do you mean?"

Terror overflows, triggering a surge of anger. My fist slams against the bench, enough to dislodge one of the cups. It smashes on the floor at my feet. "Gods damn it, Doctor! Don't you dare keep this from me now! How long? How long do I have left?"

"I— I don't—"

With another gasp for air, I stand, moving across the room to put distance between us. I keep pacing, fingers pulling at my roots just to distract myself. "Because I'm not leaving him, you hear me? I'm not. Not this soon. We just got married, for Minerva's sake! I pledged my soul to him, I can't just— I can't—" I clap a hand to my mouth, stifling another sob. "Oh Gods."

Arms wrap delicately around me. He pulls me to him, letting me sob into his shoulder. Resting his chin atop my head, he starts to gently sway us in the hopes of soothing my distress. "I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry, Inara."

"I'm s-scared."

"I know."

I only allow myself to stay like that for a moment longer. Hurriedly pushing myself away, I inhale shakily and wipe my eyes. I glance over to the closed Tardis doors and find that crushing weight in my chest again. "Does he know?" Looking to him, my voice quakes with desperation. "Did— D-Did you know... before it happened?"

"No."

He must think it will comfort me. Instead, more tears come pouring down my cheeks. I have no sleeves to dry them with, just my bare hands. My mind searches for an answer that will help me. "Will

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