The Stuff Life is Made Of, 4/5
Donna approached the door with some trepidation, worried about how quickly the Doctor had decided their destination. She’d had her concerns about travelling anywhere in the TARDIS; he’d reassured her that no one would miss them from the back garden in the middle of the night, and they’d be back before the sun rose. She certainly hoped he was right.
“Go on, then, open them!” The Doctor was standing in front of her, bouncing eagerly on the balls of his feet. She sighed, and pulled the door open. She was greeted with a spectacular view, sunlight illuminating the city rising on the far side of a very blue body of water. A suspension bridge arched gracefully on the right side of the vista, while the ground immediately in front of her appeared to be tarmac surrounded by trees.
“Where we at, then?” she asked, turning to the Doctor as he stepped outside to join her.
He pulled the door to behind them, and turned back to her with a grin. “Taronga Zoo. Thought you might like to see some non-dictatorial giraffes.”
“Taronga Zoo? Where’s that, then?”
“Sydney. Australia.”
“You took us to the other side of the planet? Rose is going to have your alien head!”
“She won’t even know we were gone, Donna. C’mon, it’s a lovely day.” He set off down the path with a jaunty skip, his hands in his pockets and a smile gracing his lips. “If you’re very good, we’ll even go to see the platypuses. Platypusi? Oooh, or the echidnas-bit like a hedgehog, those. Echiiiiiid-nah’s.” He drew the name out, enjoying the long vowel in amongst the hard consonants. “Did you know that echidnas and platypuses are the only egg-laying mammals? And they’re found only in Oceania-well, at least in our universe they are. Here, they may well be as common as the rabbit. One never knows. But I’m sure the giraffes at least are harmless. Ooh, look! Koalas!” He veered off wildly, distracted by the large habitat to the left of the path.
“Doctor…aren’t we on a bit of a schedule? Having to get back before sunrise and all?” Donna hurried after him.
“Not to worry-time machine, remember? We’re ten hours ahead of London, anyway. Assuming time zones work the same. Hello, little guy!” He peered intently at the small creature, seated sleepily in a tree. The koala steadfastly ignored him, as it no doubt did every other bipedal mammal with language abilities who walked up and talked to it. The Doctor quickly grew bored with the sedate animal, and returned to the main path of the zoo.
“Dull creatures, koalas, when you get down to it. Not at all nice, either, and a bit smelly.” He chattered happily, taking long strides through the zoo, past mums with small children in prams and clutches of school-aged children. Donna once again hurried to catch up to him, only to run into his back as he came to a sudden halt.
“Now, that’s odd. Wouldn’t have thought that at all.” The Doctor was staring towards the stunning view of the harbour, his head tilted just to the side as he contemplated something.
“What’s that? I don’t see any giraffes there in front of you, you know.”
“No, not the giraffes-they should be just ‘round the bend. I meant the Opera House.”
Donna gazed towards the skyline rising in front of her. She could see nothing unusual, and said so. “It’s a city, same as any other city on Earth I should think.”
“Yessss…but it’s not got the Opera House.”
“How can you tell that, over here? Time Lord cultural sense?”
He turned to her, disbelieving. “Have you no idea what I’m talking about?”
“Not a clue, but I’m not sure that’s unusual. Out with it, so we can see the giraffes and get back to Rose.”
The Doctor moved, standing behind her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her so she was squarely facing the skyline across the harbour. His hand shot out, across her shoulder, and he pointed as he spoke. “Bennelong Point. That is where the Sydney Opera House should be. Or would be, were we home. Designed by a Dane, in the mid-twentieth Century Earth modernist style. Did you know he won a competition, to design it? No, no, of course you wouldn’t. It’s covered with these lovely tiles...Day like today, it would practically glow. Even you would recognize it; it’s very unusual.” He moved, coming to stand next to her. “I wonder what’s there instead…”
“Oh, no. No, you don’t. We’re only here on a jaunt. You want to know what’s there, you do it after we go back and get Rose. Got it? Good.” She turned, beginning to walk in the direction they had been before the Doctor had been distracted.
They made it to the giraffe enclosure without further detour or delay, and stood there contemplating the large creatures for quite some time. Donna felt uneasy every time one of them looked her way, their large eyes and little horns seeming sinister after their brief foray into one of the alternate universes.
“They’re harmless, Donna! They’re like…deer. Sort of.”
“They look evil.”
“They’re not evil.” She could hear him trying not to laugh as he patiently enunciated the words.
“They look it. It’s the little horns.”
“They’re not evil.”
They stood on the overlook of the giraffe enclosure, the stunning view of Sydney serving as a backdrop to the activities of the three giraffes. The giraffes placidly stared back at their human observers.
“They’re plotting,” Donna finally said, unnerved by the giraffe stares.
“They’re not plotting, Donna.”
“How do you know? They could be clever little buggers here.”
The Doctor sighed. “They could be, but they’re not.”
They continued to watch the giraffes as the creatures finally lost interest and moved away from them. Donna watched in fascinated horror as one of the giraffes began to nibble at a tree in the enclosure, his long black tongue snaking out to pull a branch towards him.
“He’s not going to eat you, Donna,” the Doctor said, the corners of his lips twitching as she turned to him.
“Says you. You also told me we’d not be the main course on Yiz. You were wrong then, could be wrong again.”
The Doctor turned to her, his eyes glittering. “Well, then, perhaps we’d best be going before they come after us for a mid-day snack. We’d best be going, at any rate-don’t want to cut it too fine on getting back to London.”
“Finally! Let’s get out of this place.” She turned, prepared to walk onto the path, and froze. “Ah, Doctor?” She tugged on his arm, trying to draw him away from saying goodbye to the giraffes.
“Yes, Donna, I’m coming!” He turned, stepped forward, and came up short. “Ah. Hello!” He waved to the group of men in black, standing menacingly in front of them. “How can we be of service?” He leaned towards Donna. “Look straight out of the Matrix, they do. Or like ‘ogiks’sk mechanics.”
“Doctor? Miss Noble? Please come with us.” A tall man, his hair black as night, stepped forward, gesturing for them to join him.
“Ah…is that an option? Because, really, we have an appointment to keep. And I’d rather not miss it.”
“You’ve already missed it, sir. That’s why we’re here. Now, if you’ll come with us, we’ll explain everything.”
“Famous last words,” muttered Donna as she and the Doctor were led away by the group of men.
The man in charge stopped suddenly, turning to the Doctor. “Oh, sir? If we could please have your sonic screwdriver?” He held his hand out expectantly.
Donna looked at the Doctor, open-mouthed. They knew about that? She watched as he made a great show of riffling through his pockets, finally pulling out what she knew to be a Grold bottle-opener.
The Doctor handed it to the man with a brilliant grin. “Here you are! One screwdriver, fairly sonic.”
The man looked at the object being offered to him, and looked back at the Doctor blankly. “That’s not it. Now, if you please, the screwdriver. We’d really rather not draw more attention than we need to.”
Donna fought back a grin; their circumstances were a bit dire, and this really was no laughing matter. But it was still funny to watch the Doctor grumble to himself as he reached into his inside coat pocket, retrieved the sonic screwdriver, and handed it over to their captors with a dark look.
“Thank you. Now, just this way please.” They set off along the main zoo path, headed to heaven knew where.
-----------------------------------------------
The Doctor was about to go spare. They’d locked him and Donna in what was really quite a nice room, all things considered. Nicer than he’d been in the day before, in London, even. But the simple fact was it was still a prison. The door was solid metal, and locked like a bank vault. The glass-through which was another stunning view of Sydney Harbour (still odd, without the Opera House)-wasn’t glass, but a complex composition that would have been hard to shatter even with the sonic screwdriver. The furniture appeared to be welded to the floor. And their captors had his coat and his jacket.
Donna had taken to their captivity with good grace, although he could tell she was growing worried. They watched the sun set over Sydney, and he knew Donna was smart enough to realize that as the sun set in Sydney, it rose in London. Ten hours, between them: his Saturday evening was Rose’s Saturday morning.
They’d be missed. Very, very soon.
His hearts clenched, the thought of Rose waking up to find him gone tormenting him. She’d think he’d left her; that he couldn’t stand to wait. She’d been terrified, the night before, that he’d leave her, unable to give her the time she needed to make the single most important decision in her life.
And he hadn’t understood, not really. But she needed the time, he could tell-and that was good enough for him.
But now he’d gone and managed to get them imprisoned in a lovely flat in Sydney, held by he didn’t-know-who, without any visible means of escape. And Rose would find him gone, and she would be heartbroken.
He’d almost welcome Jackie killing him for that. The thought of Rose suffering, because he’d gone off to Sydney on a whim...Well, he was fairly sure he’d deserve what Jackie would do to him. Assuming he made it out of wherever they were.
Donna walked over to him, leaned against the wall next to the window. “You reckon she knows you’re gone now?”
“She’ll know soon enough,” he replied tightly.
“You should have stayed.”
“Thank you, yes, I’ve worked that out. Any other brilliant ideas, Miss Noble?” He regretted his temper, but not enough to keep it in check. It was bad enough that he was berating himself; he didn’t need his companion to add into the mix.
“No, not really. Seein’ as this is all your fault, I would imagine you’ll come up with a way to fix it.”
“All my fault?!”
“All your fault.”
“You were the one who said we had to come up with something for me to do! That an idle Time Lord was…” He searched for the words. “Not good!”
“I meant something like Monopoly!” Donna replied tersely. “But no! You couldn’t get out of London fast enough, couldn’t stand to sit and wait and give Rose the time she needed...”
“I was giving her plenty of time!”
“But you couldn’t stand to stay there and wait! No, you had to take us somewhere to while away the time, because heaven forbid a Lord of Time actually wait for something. Wait in one place, that is.”
“I-” His defence died on his lips. She was right, and she certainly wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. If he’d only been able to stay there, to wait in the TARDIS until Rose was ready to give him an answer...
Patience had never been one of his strengths, regardless of regeneration. Why bother with such a trifling thing, when you had the power to bend time and space to your will?
He’d thought he’d be clever, go off and do something with his time while Rose struggled with her decision. He’d cheat having to wait, he’d thought.
For not the first time, where Rose was concerned, he’d thought wrong.
He heard the locks in the door begin to whirr and slide, and braced himself for their first visitor of the day.
It was the man in the suit, who’d greeted them at Taronga. “Doctor, Miss Noble. Would you like some supper?”
He hadn’t quite expected that. He heard Donna’s stomach rumble, and saw the man’s lips twitch as he heard it, too.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then? Any requests?”
“This isn’t some sort of last meal thing, is it?” Donna asked, suspiciously.
“Hardly. We’ve been instructed to take very good care of you.”
“By whom?” the Doctor asked, voice even.
“By our superiors.”
“You know, you lot promised to explain everything. When you invited us along for a walk, that is. Earlier.”
“Hours ago,” Donna muttered.
“No one came to explain?” their captor asked, confused.
“Nooooo.” The Doctor couldn’t keep the frustration from his voice.
“Ah. Let’s get you supper, and then we’ll talk.” The man walked out of the room.
“Promises, promises,” Donna said darkly, as the sound of the locks engaging filled the room.
Their captor was as good as his word, though, returning several minutes later with a rolling tray containing food. The man remained with them this time, even as the door locked behind him, and casually removed his jacket before passing plates to the Doctor and Donna.
The Doctor could smell nothing amiss with the food in front of him, and helped himself to the pasta and light garlic sauce. He happily snatched three pieces of the bread from the basket, and settled on the (immovable) settee, eager to hear what the man in the room with them had to say.
Donna joined him, watching him take a hearty bite of his food before tucking into her own. Their captor sat across from them, in the chair, settling before meeting the Doctor’s gaze.
“Right, well, I do apologize for no one talking to you sooner. I really did think Michael had done. We’d like to welcome you to Torchwood. Should have at Taronga, really, but we were under really rather strict instruction not to. Not there. Anyway, my name is Will Bolson.”
Torchwood? They were being held by Torchwood?
“Oi, Will-we know the Director of Torchwood!” Donna said, crossly. The Doctor watched the man across from them shift uncomfortably.
“Yes, we know. It was...well, it was the Director himself who asked us to find you. Asked everyone, really. Got the orders last night. ”
“That’s...not possible,” the Doctor whispered. He’d left London Friday night-midnight, local. And he’d set the coordinates for Saturday morning at ten, in Sydney-which would have been midnight, Friday, in London.
“But it is. They came over shortly after ten Friday night. We-all of the Torchwood branches-have been looking for you practically non-stop since.”
“What...What time is it? Here? Right now?”
“Six thirty, Saturday evening.”
“And in London? Right now?”
“Ten thirty, Sunday morning.”
The Doctor felt the blood drain from his face. He’d forgotten something very, very important. Time moved differently here. Things had happened differently, as well; he should have thought of the implications of that on the time zones. It had occurred to him, oh so briefly, and he’d dismissed it, oh so arrogantly. How could he have done this?
“Where is the international date line?”
Will gave him an odd look, but answered anyway. “It’s the dividing line between Europe and Asia.” He could practically hear the mental addition of “Everyone knows that.”
Oh, no. Rasillon, no. They were on the wrong side of the date line. London was fourteen hours ahead of Sydney, not ten hours behind.
He’d left Rose, thinking she’d never know he’d gone. And he’d landed in Sydney, twenty-four hours later than he’d meant to.
Oh, Rose.
“What are you to do with us, then?” he finally asked heavily. Donna turned to look at him, realizing she’d missed something important.
“We’re waiting for the London representatives to arrive. They left London...” Will looked at his watch. “They left London at one o’clock this afternoon. Our time, not theirs. Clearly.”
“Five hours ago.”
“Nearly six, yes. Should be here...”
“In about fifteen hours,” the Doctor finished.
Will looked at him, surprised. “Were they taking the zeppelin, certainly. But they’re not. They’re in the jet. I reckon they’ll be here-that is, physically here, not just here in-country-in about three hours.”
“Three hours? How’s that, then? What kind of jet is it?” His curiosity piqued, he couldn’t help but ask the questions.
Will looked at them regretfully. “I’m sorry, I’m not authorised to talk to you about that. My understanding is the Director and Agent Smith will be on the jet, and they’ll be eager to talk with you when they arrive.”
“I bet they will be,” Donna muttered.
Will carried on as though he’d not heard her. “Until then I’m meant to make sure you and Miss Noble are taken care of, and that no harm comes to you.”
The room lapsed into an uncomfortable silence as they tried not to look at each other.
Will stood after a few minutes, glancing at Donna. “There are desserts and coffee, if you’d like. I’m afraid I have to get back to work. But please, ring the buzzer if you need anything. Books? Maybe the paper?”
“A telly?” Donna asked, hopefully.
Will smiled. “I think we can arrange that.” He walked to the door, and rang the buzzer. As the locks disengaged, he turned. “It’s been a pleasure.”
Donna turned to the Doctor as the sound of the locks re-engaging ceased, her expression unyielding. “What the hell is going on?” she asked, a hardness to her voice.
“I made a mistake.”
“You....you made a mistake?”
“I made a mistake.”
“You don’t make mistakes. At least, not according to you.”
“I did this time. A big one.” He dropped his chin, his hands sliding through his hair, grabbing onto it as they came to the back of his head.
“So...explain it to me. How is it that Rose knew we were gone?”
And so he did. Explained that the time zones, apparently, were different in this universe. How, back home, the date line ran through the Pacific, how Sydney was on the far eastern edge of it, making it one of the first cities to see a new day; how London was ten hours behind it. And how, here, it was just enough different to make things a disaster. How the date line ran further west, pushing Sydney to the other side of it, making it almost a day behind London, instead of hours ahead.
“Riiiight,” Donna said, slowly, when he was done explaining. “What you’re saying is you were a day off on everything?”
“Roughly, yes. I thought Saturday morning in Sydney was Friday night in London. But Saturday morning in Sydney is Saturday night in London.” He paused, shook his head. “It’s murder trying to work that out. Arbitrary things, date lines and meridians...I wonder why it’s in Asia?” He’d have to ask Rose about that. Assuming she was still speaking to him.
“So...it’s Saturday night here, which makes it...Sunday morning in London?”
“Yes. Take the time, add two hours, flip from am to pm-or vice-versa-and you’ve got the time in London.”
He felt slightly sick at the thought of how long Rose knew he’d been gone. A whole day.
She’d suffered a whole day, because he’d not known things were different here. And the thing is, he should have known. How many times had he warned her, or Donna, or even Mickey, that parallel universes were similar but nowhere near the same? And yet he’d blithely assumed that certain things-certain important things-would be identical.
Forget Mickey. The Doctor was the idiot in this universe.
The television arrived along with the tray containing dessert and coffee. Donna sensed he wanted to be alone, and so contented herself watching Blue Heelers-which, apparently, had never been cancelled in this universe, but which was of quite the same quality. He paid careful attention to the time, marking the minutes as they dwindled, as his reckoning with Rose’s father and her best friend approached.
He felt his nervousness grow as the clock neared ten (the clock had been helpfully supplied along with the television); according to Will, the Torchwood contingent should be on the ground, should well-nigh be there by this point. What were they going to say? Do? He knew how furious Mickey had been with him after the incident with Versailles; this was far, far worse. A thousand times worse. And he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to make it up to Rose-assuming she’d let him. He’d hardly be able to blame her if she didn’t.
He started pacing at quarter past ten, his nervous anticipation nearly too much to cope with. He needed something to distract him; if he had the sonic screwdriver, he’d at least be able to take the telly apart and see if it was constructed differently, or to figure out the chemical composition of the windows in the room. Instead, he was stuck with his thoughts, with his fears.
Thus it was almost a relief when he heard the locks disengage, saw the door begin to swing open. Donna had moved to stand next to him, providing silent support, and he squared his shoulders. He’d faced down the Dalek Emperor, the Queen of the Rachnoss, and countless others before them; he could handle Mickey and Pete.
Which was why it was such a shock when the door swung open to reveal Rose.
“Go on, then, open them!” The Doctor was standing in front of her, bouncing eagerly on the balls of his feet. She sighed, and pulled the door open. She was greeted with a spectacular view, sunlight illuminating the city rising on the far side of a very blue body of water. A suspension bridge arched gracefully on the right side of the vista, while the ground immediately in front of her appeared to be tarmac surrounded by trees.
“Where we at, then?” she asked, turning to the Doctor as he stepped outside to join her.
He pulled the door to behind them, and turned back to her with a grin. “Taronga Zoo. Thought you might like to see some non-dictatorial giraffes.”
“Taronga Zoo? Where’s that, then?”
“Sydney. Australia.”
“You took us to the other side of the planet? Rose is going to have your alien head!”
“She won’t even know we were gone, Donna. C’mon, it’s a lovely day.” He set off down the path with a jaunty skip, his hands in his pockets and a smile gracing his lips. “If you’re very good, we’ll even go to see the platypuses. Platypusi? Oooh, or the echidnas-bit like a hedgehog, those. Echiiiiiid-nah’s.” He drew the name out, enjoying the long vowel in amongst the hard consonants. “Did you know that echidnas and platypuses are the only egg-laying mammals? And they’re found only in Oceania-well, at least in our universe they are. Here, they may well be as common as the rabbit. One never knows. But I’m sure the giraffes at least are harmless. Ooh, look! Koalas!” He veered off wildly, distracted by the large habitat to the left of the path.
“Doctor…aren’t we on a bit of a schedule? Having to get back before sunrise and all?” Donna hurried after him.
“Not to worry-time machine, remember? We’re ten hours ahead of London, anyway. Assuming time zones work the same. Hello, little guy!” He peered intently at the small creature, seated sleepily in a tree. The koala steadfastly ignored him, as it no doubt did every other bipedal mammal with language abilities who walked up and talked to it. The Doctor quickly grew bored with the sedate animal, and returned to the main path of the zoo.
“Dull creatures, koalas, when you get down to it. Not at all nice, either, and a bit smelly.” He chattered happily, taking long strides through the zoo, past mums with small children in prams and clutches of school-aged children. Donna once again hurried to catch up to him, only to run into his back as he came to a sudden halt.
“Now, that’s odd. Wouldn’t have thought that at all.” The Doctor was staring towards the stunning view of the harbour, his head tilted just to the side as he contemplated something.
“What’s that? I don’t see any giraffes there in front of you, you know.”
“No, not the giraffes-they should be just ‘round the bend. I meant the Opera House.”
Donna gazed towards the skyline rising in front of her. She could see nothing unusual, and said so. “It’s a city, same as any other city on Earth I should think.”
“Yessss…but it’s not got the Opera House.”
“How can you tell that, over here? Time Lord cultural sense?”
He turned to her, disbelieving. “Have you no idea what I’m talking about?”
“Not a clue, but I’m not sure that’s unusual. Out with it, so we can see the giraffes and get back to Rose.”
The Doctor moved, standing behind her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her so she was squarely facing the skyline across the harbour. His hand shot out, across her shoulder, and he pointed as he spoke. “Bennelong Point. That is where the Sydney Opera House should be. Or would be, were we home. Designed by a Dane, in the mid-twentieth Century Earth modernist style. Did you know he won a competition, to design it? No, no, of course you wouldn’t. It’s covered with these lovely tiles...Day like today, it would practically glow. Even you would recognize it; it’s very unusual.” He moved, coming to stand next to her. “I wonder what’s there instead…”
“Oh, no. No, you don’t. We’re only here on a jaunt. You want to know what’s there, you do it after we go back and get Rose. Got it? Good.” She turned, beginning to walk in the direction they had been before the Doctor had been distracted.
They made it to the giraffe enclosure without further detour or delay, and stood there contemplating the large creatures for quite some time. Donna felt uneasy every time one of them looked her way, their large eyes and little horns seeming sinister after their brief foray into one of the alternate universes.
“They’re harmless, Donna! They’re like…deer. Sort of.”
“They look evil.”
“They’re not evil.” She could hear him trying not to laugh as he patiently enunciated the words.
“They look it. It’s the little horns.”
“They’re not evil.”
They stood on the overlook of the giraffe enclosure, the stunning view of Sydney serving as a backdrop to the activities of the three giraffes. The giraffes placidly stared back at their human observers.
“They’re plotting,” Donna finally said, unnerved by the giraffe stares.
“They’re not plotting, Donna.”
“How do you know? They could be clever little buggers here.”
The Doctor sighed. “They could be, but they’re not.”
They continued to watch the giraffes as the creatures finally lost interest and moved away from them. Donna watched in fascinated horror as one of the giraffes began to nibble at a tree in the enclosure, his long black tongue snaking out to pull a branch towards him.
“He’s not going to eat you, Donna,” the Doctor said, the corners of his lips twitching as she turned to him.
“Says you. You also told me we’d not be the main course on Yiz. You were wrong then, could be wrong again.”
The Doctor turned to her, his eyes glittering. “Well, then, perhaps we’d best be going before they come after us for a mid-day snack. We’d best be going, at any rate-don’t want to cut it too fine on getting back to London.”
“Finally! Let’s get out of this place.” She turned, prepared to walk onto the path, and froze. “Ah, Doctor?” She tugged on his arm, trying to draw him away from saying goodbye to the giraffes.
“Yes, Donna, I’m coming!” He turned, stepped forward, and came up short. “Ah. Hello!” He waved to the group of men in black, standing menacingly in front of them. “How can we be of service?” He leaned towards Donna. “Look straight out of the Matrix, they do. Or like ‘ogiks’sk mechanics.”
“Doctor? Miss Noble? Please come with us.” A tall man, his hair black as night, stepped forward, gesturing for them to join him.
“Ah…is that an option? Because, really, we have an appointment to keep. And I’d rather not miss it.”
“You’ve already missed it, sir. That’s why we’re here. Now, if you’ll come with us, we’ll explain everything.”
“Famous last words,” muttered Donna as she and the Doctor were led away by the group of men.
The man in charge stopped suddenly, turning to the Doctor. “Oh, sir? If we could please have your sonic screwdriver?” He held his hand out expectantly.
Donna looked at the Doctor, open-mouthed. They knew about that? She watched as he made a great show of riffling through his pockets, finally pulling out what she knew to be a Grold bottle-opener.
The Doctor handed it to the man with a brilliant grin. “Here you are! One screwdriver, fairly sonic.”
The man looked at the object being offered to him, and looked back at the Doctor blankly. “That’s not it. Now, if you please, the screwdriver. We’d really rather not draw more attention than we need to.”
Donna fought back a grin; their circumstances were a bit dire, and this really was no laughing matter. But it was still funny to watch the Doctor grumble to himself as he reached into his inside coat pocket, retrieved the sonic screwdriver, and handed it over to their captors with a dark look.
“Thank you. Now, just this way please.” They set off along the main zoo path, headed to heaven knew where.
-----------------------------------------------
The Doctor was about to go spare. They’d locked him and Donna in what was really quite a nice room, all things considered. Nicer than he’d been in the day before, in London, even. But the simple fact was it was still a prison. The door was solid metal, and locked like a bank vault. The glass-through which was another stunning view of Sydney Harbour (still odd, without the Opera House)-wasn’t glass, but a complex composition that would have been hard to shatter even with the sonic screwdriver. The furniture appeared to be welded to the floor. And their captors had his coat and his jacket.
Donna had taken to their captivity with good grace, although he could tell she was growing worried. They watched the sun set over Sydney, and he knew Donna was smart enough to realize that as the sun set in Sydney, it rose in London. Ten hours, between them: his Saturday evening was Rose’s Saturday morning.
They’d be missed. Very, very soon.
His hearts clenched, the thought of Rose waking up to find him gone tormenting him. She’d think he’d left her; that he couldn’t stand to wait. She’d been terrified, the night before, that he’d leave her, unable to give her the time she needed to make the single most important decision in her life.
And he hadn’t understood, not really. But she needed the time, he could tell-and that was good enough for him.
But now he’d gone and managed to get them imprisoned in a lovely flat in Sydney, held by he didn’t-know-who, without any visible means of escape. And Rose would find him gone, and she would be heartbroken.
He’d almost welcome Jackie killing him for that. The thought of Rose suffering, because he’d gone off to Sydney on a whim...Well, he was fairly sure he’d deserve what Jackie would do to him. Assuming he made it out of wherever they were.
Donna walked over to him, leaned against the wall next to the window. “You reckon she knows you’re gone now?”
“She’ll know soon enough,” he replied tightly.
“You should have stayed.”
“Thank you, yes, I’ve worked that out. Any other brilliant ideas, Miss Noble?” He regretted his temper, but not enough to keep it in check. It was bad enough that he was berating himself; he didn’t need his companion to add into the mix.
“No, not really. Seein’ as this is all your fault, I would imagine you’ll come up with a way to fix it.”
“All my fault?!”
“All your fault.”
“You were the one who said we had to come up with something for me to do! That an idle Time Lord was…” He searched for the words. “Not good!”
“I meant something like Monopoly!” Donna replied tersely. “But no! You couldn’t get out of London fast enough, couldn’t stand to sit and wait and give Rose the time she needed...”
“I was giving her plenty of time!”
“But you couldn’t stand to stay there and wait! No, you had to take us somewhere to while away the time, because heaven forbid a Lord of Time actually wait for something. Wait in one place, that is.”
“I-” His defence died on his lips. She was right, and she certainly wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. If he’d only been able to stay there, to wait in the TARDIS until Rose was ready to give him an answer...
Patience had never been one of his strengths, regardless of regeneration. Why bother with such a trifling thing, when you had the power to bend time and space to your will?
He’d thought he’d be clever, go off and do something with his time while Rose struggled with her decision. He’d cheat having to wait, he’d thought.
For not the first time, where Rose was concerned, he’d thought wrong.
He heard the locks in the door begin to whirr and slide, and braced himself for their first visitor of the day.
It was the man in the suit, who’d greeted them at Taronga. “Doctor, Miss Noble. Would you like some supper?”
He hadn’t quite expected that. He heard Donna’s stomach rumble, and saw the man’s lips twitch as he heard it, too.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then? Any requests?”
“This isn’t some sort of last meal thing, is it?” Donna asked, suspiciously.
“Hardly. We’ve been instructed to take very good care of you.”
“By whom?” the Doctor asked, voice even.
“By our superiors.”
“You know, you lot promised to explain everything. When you invited us along for a walk, that is. Earlier.”
“Hours ago,” Donna muttered.
“No one came to explain?” their captor asked, confused.
“Nooooo.” The Doctor couldn’t keep the frustration from his voice.
“Ah. Let’s get you supper, and then we’ll talk.” The man walked out of the room.
“Promises, promises,” Donna said darkly, as the sound of the locks engaging filled the room.
Their captor was as good as his word, though, returning several minutes later with a rolling tray containing food. The man remained with them this time, even as the door locked behind him, and casually removed his jacket before passing plates to the Doctor and Donna.
The Doctor could smell nothing amiss with the food in front of him, and helped himself to the pasta and light garlic sauce. He happily snatched three pieces of the bread from the basket, and settled on the (immovable) settee, eager to hear what the man in the room with them had to say.
Donna joined him, watching him take a hearty bite of his food before tucking into her own. Their captor sat across from them, in the chair, settling before meeting the Doctor’s gaze.
“Right, well, I do apologize for no one talking to you sooner. I really did think Michael had done. We’d like to welcome you to Torchwood. Should have at Taronga, really, but we were under really rather strict instruction not to. Not there. Anyway, my name is Will Bolson.”
Torchwood? They were being held by Torchwood?
“Oi, Will-we know the Director of Torchwood!” Donna said, crossly. The Doctor watched the man across from them shift uncomfortably.
“Yes, we know. It was...well, it was the Director himself who asked us to find you. Asked everyone, really. Got the orders last night. ”
“That’s...not possible,” the Doctor whispered. He’d left London Friday night-midnight, local. And he’d set the coordinates for Saturday morning at ten, in Sydney-which would have been midnight, Friday, in London.
“But it is. They came over shortly after ten Friday night. We-all of the Torchwood branches-have been looking for you practically non-stop since.”
“What...What time is it? Here? Right now?”
“Six thirty, Saturday evening.”
“And in London? Right now?”
“Ten thirty, Sunday morning.”
The Doctor felt the blood drain from his face. He’d forgotten something very, very important. Time moved differently here. Things had happened differently, as well; he should have thought of the implications of that on the time zones. It had occurred to him, oh so briefly, and he’d dismissed it, oh so arrogantly. How could he have done this?
“Where is the international date line?”
Will gave him an odd look, but answered anyway. “It’s the dividing line between Europe and Asia.” He could practically hear the mental addition of “Everyone knows that.”
Oh, no. Rasillon, no. They were on the wrong side of the date line. London was fourteen hours ahead of Sydney, not ten hours behind.
He’d left Rose, thinking she’d never know he’d gone. And he’d landed in Sydney, twenty-four hours later than he’d meant to.
Oh, Rose.
“What are you to do with us, then?” he finally asked heavily. Donna turned to look at him, realizing she’d missed something important.
“We’re waiting for the London representatives to arrive. They left London...” Will looked at his watch. “They left London at one o’clock this afternoon. Our time, not theirs. Clearly.”
“Five hours ago.”
“Nearly six, yes. Should be here...”
“In about fifteen hours,” the Doctor finished.
Will looked at him, surprised. “Were they taking the zeppelin, certainly. But they’re not. They’re in the jet. I reckon they’ll be here-that is, physically here, not just here in-country-in about three hours.”
“Three hours? How’s that, then? What kind of jet is it?” His curiosity piqued, he couldn’t help but ask the questions.
Will looked at them regretfully. “I’m sorry, I’m not authorised to talk to you about that. My understanding is the Director and Agent Smith will be on the jet, and they’ll be eager to talk with you when they arrive.”
“I bet they will be,” Donna muttered.
Will carried on as though he’d not heard her. “Until then I’m meant to make sure you and Miss Noble are taken care of, and that no harm comes to you.”
The room lapsed into an uncomfortable silence as they tried not to look at each other.
Will stood after a few minutes, glancing at Donna. “There are desserts and coffee, if you’d like. I’m afraid I have to get back to work. But please, ring the buzzer if you need anything. Books? Maybe the paper?”
“A telly?” Donna asked, hopefully.
Will smiled. “I think we can arrange that.” He walked to the door, and rang the buzzer. As the locks disengaged, he turned. “It’s been a pleasure.”
Donna turned to the Doctor as the sound of the locks re-engaging ceased, her expression unyielding. “What the hell is going on?” she asked, a hardness to her voice.
“I made a mistake.”
“You....you made a mistake?”
“I made a mistake.”
“You don’t make mistakes. At least, not according to you.”
“I did this time. A big one.” He dropped his chin, his hands sliding through his hair, grabbing onto it as they came to the back of his head.
“So...explain it to me. How is it that Rose knew we were gone?”
And so he did. Explained that the time zones, apparently, were different in this universe. How, back home, the date line ran through the Pacific, how Sydney was on the far eastern edge of it, making it one of the first cities to see a new day; how London was ten hours behind it. And how, here, it was just enough different to make things a disaster. How the date line ran further west, pushing Sydney to the other side of it, making it almost a day behind London, instead of hours ahead.
“Riiiight,” Donna said, slowly, when he was done explaining. “What you’re saying is you were a day off on everything?”
“Roughly, yes. I thought Saturday morning in Sydney was Friday night in London. But Saturday morning in Sydney is Saturday night in London.” He paused, shook his head. “It’s murder trying to work that out. Arbitrary things, date lines and meridians...I wonder why it’s in Asia?” He’d have to ask Rose about that. Assuming she was still speaking to him.
“So...it’s Saturday night here, which makes it...Sunday morning in London?”
“Yes. Take the time, add two hours, flip from am to pm-or vice-versa-and you’ve got the time in London.”
He felt slightly sick at the thought of how long Rose knew he’d been gone. A whole day.
She’d suffered a whole day, because he’d not known things were different here. And the thing is, he should have known. How many times had he warned her, or Donna, or even Mickey, that parallel universes were similar but nowhere near the same? And yet he’d blithely assumed that certain things-certain important things-would be identical.
Forget Mickey. The Doctor was the idiot in this universe.
The television arrived along with the tray containing dessert and coffee. Donna sensed he wanted to be alone, and so contented herself watching Blue Heelers-which, apparently, had never been cancelled in this universe, but which was of quite the same quality. He paid careful attention to the time, marking the minutes as they dwindled, as his reckoning with Rose’s father and her best friend approached.
He felt his nervousness grow as the clock neared ten (the clock had been helpfully supplied along with the television); according to Will, the Torchwood contingent should be on the ground, should well-nigh be there by this point. What were they going to say? Do? He knew how furious Mickey had been with him after the incident with Versailles; this was far, far worse. A thousand times worse. And he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to make it up to Rose-assuming she’d let him. He’d hardly be able to blame her if she didn’t.
He started pacing at quarter past ten, his nervous anticipation nearly too much to cope with. He needed something to distract him; if he had the sonic screwdriver, he’d at least be able to take the telly apart and see if it was constructed differently, or to figure out the chemical composition of the windows in the room. Instead, he was stuck with his thoughts, with his fears.
Thus it was almost a relief when he heard the locks disengage, saw the door begin to swing open. Donna had moved to stand next to him, providing silent support, and he squared his shoulders. He’d faced down the Dalek Emperor, the Queen of the Rachnoss, and countless others before them; he could handle Mickey and Pete.
Which was why it was such a shock when the door swung open to reveal Rose.