Chaos Theory in Vortex Orbits in Relative Dimensions in Time and Space (21/27)
Title - Chaos Theory in Vortex Orbits in Relative Dimensions in Time and Space (21/27)
Author --
earlgreytea68
Rating - Teen
Characters -- Ten, Sarah Jane, OCs
Spoilers: Through the end of S2.
Disclaimer: I don't own them and I don't make money off of them, but I don't like to dwell on that, so let's move on. (Except for Brem and Athena. They're all mine.)
Summary - And then there came a day when Rose said she was having a baby. Hijinks ensue from there.
Author’s Notes - The icon was created by
punkinart , commissioned by
aibhinn , who graciously offered it to me for my use.
Many, many thanks to
jlrpuck for being a very patient beta, through all of those tear-jerking chapters. Many thanks also to Kristin-who-won't-get-an-LJ, who brainstormed this fic with me endlessly, and
bouncy_castle79 , who gave it the first major outside-eyes read-through.
Ch.1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6 - Ch. 7 - Ch. 8 - Ch. 9 - Ch. 10 - Ch. 11 - Ch. 12 - Ch. 13 - Ch. 14 - Ch. 15 - Ch. 16 - Ch. 17 - Ch. 18 - Ch. 19 - Ch. 20
Chapter Twenty-One
“Brem.”
Brem was busy trying to add just the right touch of Polished Ivory to the appalling shade of Mosaic Pink that Athena had chosen. He had Juanes blasting in the background, his most recent music discovery, plucked from Dad’s vast collection of music that Dad insisted was all organized alphabetically, although it had to be an alphabet Brem hadn’t been introduced to yet.
“Brem.”
“Brem, your sister’s talking to you,” said Sarah Jane, turning down the blasting Juanes music.
“I’m trying to mix the paint, Athena, what’s the problem?” he asked, impatiently, studying his new concoction and wondering whether it was any more bearable than the Mosaic Pink on its own. Less Polished Ivory? More? He wondered if he could come up with some sort of algorithm to help. An algorithm to determine aesthetic pleasure. The idea intrigued him.
“Dad’s late,” said Athena.
Brem looked up for the first time. Athena was clutching Pinky, and looked terrified. Brem considered his sense of time. “You’re right. He is late. But only by a few minutes.”
“He’s flat,” said Athena, which forced Brem to stop and think, his mind reaching for his father.
She was right. He was flat. Normally, Dad sat in the corner of their minds, there if they needed comforting, soothing, support. But he was…flat. It was the only word for it.
Brem stood, wiping his hands on his jeans and forgetting about the paint project for the time being. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” he said, forcing his voice to be cheerful for Athena’s benefit, although Dad had never been late before, not even a little bit. He looked at Sarah Jane. “We should go to the TARDIS,” he said, hoping he sounded nonchalant and blasé, so that he wouldn’t alarm Athena.
And then he set off purposefully, out of the house and crossing the back garden to where the TARDIS was parked. He dug in his pocket for his key. When he had been a baby, there had always been a TARDIS key pinned somewhere to his person. Now that he was old, he was trusted to carry the key in his pocket, although he’d never had to use it before, and he was secretly excited that Dad had suddenly gone missing, so that he could importantly turn his key in the TARDIS door while Sarah Jane and Athena watched.
Dad was not in the control room, and he called for him, before it dawned on him suddenly what the flatness was. “He’s sleeping,” he realized. It happened so seldom that it had taken him a while to catch it.
Athena seemed determined to find him and make sure for herself. She wandered off into the rest of the TARDIS, calling for him. Brem would have followed after, except that something made him pause by the monitor on the console. There was a small stepping-stool tucked under the console, one he’d never noticed before, and he tugged it over to the controls so he could step up on it and see the monitor.
“Brem?” said Sarah Jane, curiously, as he leaned over the monitor, his eyes running over the Gallifreyan that was dashing across it.
Brem tilted his head at it, ignoring Sarah Jane.
“Oh, there you are,” Sarah Jane said, in relief, and Brem knew his father had entered the control room. “Athena was worried about you.”
Brem turned slowly. Dad had picked Athena up, had her settled against his hip, and his eyes were on Brem. “Why didn’t you tell us?” Brem asked.
“Brem,” his father said, and Brem recognized the tone, the stop-what-you’re-doing-now tone, but ignored it.
“Mum’s been punching holes through from the other universe. You’re through. All you need is someone to hold the breach. All you need to do is call a couple of other Time Lords and we can get Mum. Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because it’s not that simple, Brem.” His tone was tight and clipped, sounding not at all like Dad.
“It is that simple,” Brem insisted, gesturing at the monitor. “I can read, Dad. All you have to do is call someone-”
“I’m not calling anyone-”
“Now is not the time to be too proud to ask for help-”
“It is not a matter of pride-”
“One Time Lord would be enough. I mean, preferably two, but if you can bring yourself to find just one who could help keep the breach open-”
“I am not finding any other Time Lords, Brem-”
“Why not?” Brem demanded, and he felt like he was being reckless.
“Because there aren’t any other Time Lords!” his father shouted. “I killed them all!”
The control room was completely silent, save for their breaths, both of them quick and heaving. Brem backed as far as he could against the console, his hands tight around the railing, as he stared at his father, words turning over in his mind. He was not used to being shouted at it. The words could have been completely innocuous, nothing more than, Do you want cereal for breakfast?, and Brem would have felt cold inside, but Dad’s particular exclamation made him feel like ice had been poured into him. It was an insane thing to say. It couldn’t possibly be true.
And yet he knew, at that moment, it was. He had always assumed he couldn’t feel any other Time Lords because he wasn’t related to them. But he saw now how unlikely that was: no aunts, uncles, cousins, nothing. It was because there were no other Time Lords left. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even think to process the words, just stared, until his father put Athena down, unceremoniously, turned, and stalked out of the control room.
Athena began to cry, but Sarah Jane did not move to pick her up. Brem had the impression she was frozen as well. And Brem forced himself to move, to rouse himself out of this and find his father and mend this, because they were never going to get anywhere if he let himself get stuck in ice. He stepped off the stepping stool, followed his father to his parents’ bedroom, knocked on the door. When he received no answer, he opened it and walked in, which he knew was an indication he was doing the right thing, or the TARDIS would have locked him out.
Dad was slumped deep in the armchair by the fireplace, one hand at his temples. “Oh, Brem, not now,” he said. “Really not now.”
Brem said nothing, walked over to the chair and clambered onto his father’s lap. Dad did not push him away--but he didn’t cuddle him, either.
Brem stared at his face, for the first time thinking that it was entirely impossible he knew nothing about his father. He couldn’t understand why he would have killed everyone. He longed to ask him, to have it be justified, to know that there had been a reason. But he sensed that now was not the time to push for the whole story, that Dad had never had any intention of sharing any of it so soon.
“You didn’t kill all of the Time Lords,” Brem told him.
“Brem.” He sighed. “I know that you want to believe-”
“No, I know you didn’t kill all of the Time Lords. Because there’s me. And there’s Athena. You weren’t really the end. You’re kind of the beginning. We’re not alone. Because we’re us.”
For a moment, there was no reaction. And then his father crushed him into a hug, so tight he momentarily had the wind knocked out of him. But he hugged back, trying to prove his point, and, after a moment, said, into his father’s shoulder, “I can do this, Dad.”
“Can do what?” he asked.
He pushed back, resisting the hug, so he could look his father in the eye. “I can hold the breach open while you fetch Mum.”
“No, you can’t,” his father said, without blinking an eye.
Brem bristled. “Yes, I can.”
“You said it would be preferable to have two Time Lords, but you’d settle for one. And now you think you can do it? You’re four years old.”
“So? I’m a Time Lord, remember? A four-year-old Time Lord isn’t like a four-year-old human. And I can do it. Athena can help me.”
“Athena’s a baby.”
“So it’s a good thing that I’m old, then, isn’t it?”
“You aren’t old. Four is not old. Talk to me in a hundred or so years, and then maybe I’ll consider letting you hold the breach open.”
“I can hold it open now. We don’t have a hundred years. We need to get Mum back now.”
Dad shook his head. “No. No, no, no. The answer is no.”
Brem decided to ignore him. “All we have to do is build me the equipment. The computers and stuff. So I can read it while you take the TARDIS through. The sprolometer, of course. And the digicoil meter, right?”
“Brem, we’re not doing any of this. You’re not holding the breach open for me while I go through.”
“Tell me what other option we have,” Brem demanded. “You know that we don’t.”
His father sighed. “But-”
“I can do this. I know I can. You have to trust me.”
“I trust you, more than I probably should. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re four years old and you want your mother back and you’re willing to-”
Brem pouted. “That’s not fair.”
“What isn’t fair?”
“Accusing me of not thinking clearly. You’re the one who’s not thinking clearly. You didn’t even notice that you had other Time Lords around to help you.”
“I don’t have other Time Lords. I have children.”
“Yes, but we’re your children. You know we’re brilliant. You know we can do this.”
“No, I don’t. If I ‘knew’ it, I’d let you do it.”
“You’ve been doing things on your own so long, you’ve forgotten how to let other people help.”
“I let plenty of people help. Grown, adult people.”
Brem pouted again. “At least help me build the equipment, and then you can quiz me, and I can prove it.”
His father studied him closely, eyes flickering over his features. “Your mother would never forgive me if I let you do this, be responsible for this.”
“I’d rather Mum never forgive you than you never give Mum the chance to get angry about it.”
“I’d rather we get Mum back and not have her be angry with me.”
“Welllllll, sure, that’d be ideal,” shrugged Brem. “But we should take what we can get, don’t you think?”
“I think you’re mad. I think this is the quite possibly the worst idea ever, out of nine hundred years of bad ideas.”
“I think it’s the only thing that even has a chance of working, and you know it. You’ve known it for a while. You can’t find another way. Nobody could. Please. I can’t let us live this life without Mum, knowing that I could have got her back for us but I didn’t.” Brem played his trump card then, making his eyes wide with innocence. “Don’t make me feel guilty about that for the rest of my life.”
His father groaned and dropped his head back against the chair. “Your mother,” he said, “was dead wrong when she thought letting you read every psychology book in the library was a good idea.”
Brem grinned and wriggled off his father’s lap, aware he’d won. “I’ll go gather us some materials.”
“Absolutely, magnificently, fabulously wrong,” Dad shouted, as Brem skipped out of the room.
**********************
The Doctor knew he had to tell Brem that no, absolutely not, no matter how much he blathered on about guilt and loneliness and beginnings and whatever else manipulative tripe he’d seized upon, he was most certainly not going through the breach with Brem the one responsible for holding it open. The problem was that Brem was, well, Brem, and the longer the Doctor sat in the armchair, by the empty fireplace, the more he thought that maybe Brem could do it. He would never have thought this at any previous time in his life, that a four-year-old could successfully hold open a parallel world breach, but the truth was he could never have imagined a creature like Brem, either. Maybe Brem could do it. Maybe this was the way. The only way.
At first, when the first hole was punched through from the other universe, he’d been jubilant. His brilliant, gorgeous, brilliant Rose had figured this out for him! The walls between the universes were solid on his side, because he’d been there to make sure it sealed properly. It made sense that it was weaker on her side, that it would be on her side that the breach should happen. All he had to do now was keep the breach open, long enough to get himself through it, get Rose, and get back. It would have been easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy in the old days. And next to impossible now. Where would he find someone to stay in this universe to keep the breach open? What were his other options? He could think of none. The initial jubilation had faded, back into the same labyrinthine depression he’d been stranded in before.
But now, just like that, there existed the possibility, all of a sudden, that he could find a way out. It was, in a way, kind of the most obvious solution of them all. Brem could do it. It was really true that Brem might actually be able to do it.
He pulled himself out of the armchair. The TARDIS was deserted, save for a heap of scraps he knew Brem had foraged for to make the equipment he insisted he was going to need, and he wandered up to Sarah Jane’s house. He felt better than he had in weeks, he had to admit. It was madness to put all of this on the shoulders of a four-year-old. Complete and utter madness. But it didn’t seem that way at the moment. It seemed like sheer genius, like he’d rather have Brem in charge than any other being in the universe, even if other Time Lords did still exist.
They were painting a room an appalling shade of pink, and the Doctor leaned on the doorjamb and watched them for a second, unnoticed. Athena was seated, carefully running her paintbrush along the edge of the moulding, and the idea amused the Doctor. They let Athena do the detail work? Both Sarah Jane and Brem were working with rollers, Brem on the bottom half of the walls, Sarah Jane on the top half. Brem’s face was puckered with concentration as he painted, as he sang along to the music he was blasting. Juanes, the Doctor realized. How had the kid come up with that? Of all the music in the TARDIS, to grab that to paint by?
“It’s…an interesting colour,” he ventured finally.
Athena looked at him and beamed. “I chose it.”
“You don’t say,” he replied, pretending to be shocked, as he smiled at her. It was astonishing to him how naturally sunny Athena was, how easily she forgave him everything. He knew he’d terrified her by shouting. He knew also she’d never bring it up again. She was the very opposite of Brem. Brem hadn’t pushed the issue, but he knew that, once he’d decided it was time to know, he’d never let the subject drop until he’d laid bare every excruciating detail about the Time War. It was not a conversation the Doctor relished.
Brem was watching him, and he turned his attention to him. “Let’s talk,” he said.
Brem grinned brilliantly, dropping the roller carefully into its tray before following the Doctor. The Doctor led them to Sarah Jane’s kitchen, and sat at the table. Brem took the hint and took the other seat.
“Did you see the stuff I managed to pull together?” he asked, enthusiastically. “We may need to stop at a couple of planets, I think-”
“We are not building you equipment from scratch,” the Doctor interrupted him.
Brem sighed, as if dealing with his father was a tremendous burden for him to bear. “I thought we’d settled this.”
“We didn’t settle anything. I never actually told you that I was going to allow you to do this.”
“You’re very preoccupied with my age,” Brem grumbled.
The Doctor smiled at him. “The reason we’re not building you equipment from scratch is because I know someone who has all this equipment already.”
There was a moment of astonished silence. “You do? You know someone? Who?” And then, after another beat, “You’re really going to let me do it?”
“I am,” he affirmed.
Brem grinned, plainly delighted. “We’ll get Mum back. You’ll see.” There was another pause. “Who has all this equipment I can use?”
The Doctor smiled and stood. “Come on. Let’s go tell Sarah Jane that we’re leaving.”
Athena gifted Sarah Jane with a doll before they left, a token of the highest regard by Athena’s standards. Sarah Jane accepted it with a great solemnity and promised to make sure it was tucked soundly into bed each night, a promise that tickled Athena, whose dolls were like her and never slept.
She hugged Brem good-bye, thanking him for the all the painting, and remarking, “You are both exactly and not at all like your father.”
“We’re complicated and Gallifreyan,” Brem replied, wisely. “We can accomplish that.”
Sarah Jane walked them up to the TARDIS, keeping pace with the Doctor while the kids ran ahead. “When you get Rose back, promise you’ll all come to dinner.”
“Absolutely,” he said.
“You will get Rose back.”
The Doctor smiled. “You know, I think we just might. Brem is so sure. And there is something about his being so sure that’s just…infectious.”
“Even if you don’t get her back, you must bring the kids back to visit. None of this falling out of touch for years at a time.”
“No,” he agreed. “Not anymore.”
“But you’ll get her back,” Sarah Jane finished, hastily.
The kids had run ahead of them into the TARDIS. The Doctor paused by the open door, looking back at Sarah Jane and then swooping her into a hug. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”
And then he stepped into the TARDIS and closed the door behind him. The kids looked at him expectantly from beside the controls, curious as to their next destination.
And so it came to pass that the Doctor went to visit Jack Harkness.
Next Chapter
Author --
earlgreytea68
Rating - Teen
Characters -- Ten, Sarah Jane, OCs
Spoilers: Through the end of S2.
Disclaimer: I don't own them and I don't make money off of them, but I don't like to dwell on that, so let's move on. (Except for Brem and Athena. They're all mine.)
Summary - And then there came a day when Rose said she was having a baby. Hijinks ensue from there.
Author’s Notes - The icon was created by
punkinart , commissioned by
aibhinn , who graciously offered it to me for my use.
Many, many thanks to
jlrpuck for being a very patient beta, through all of those tear-jerking chapters. Many thanks also to Kristin-who-won't-get-an-LJ, who brainstormed this fic with me endlessly, and
bouncy_castle79 , who gave it the first major outside-eyes read-through.
Ch.1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6 - Ch. 7 - Ch. 8 - Ch. 9 - Ch. 10 - Ch. 11 - Ch. 12 - Ch. 13 - Ch. 14 - Ch. 15 - Ch. 16 - Ch. 17 - Ch. 18 - Ch. 19 - Ch. 20
Chapter Twenty-One
“Brem.”
Brem was busy trying to add just the right touch of Polished Ivory to the appalling shade of Mosaic Pink that Athena had chosen. He had Juanes blasting in the background, his most recent music discovery, plucked from Dad’s vast collection of music that Dad insisted was all organized alphabetically, although it had to be an alphabet Brem hadn’t been introduced to yet.
“Brem.”
“Brem, your sister’s talking to you,” said Sarah Jane, turning down the blasting Juanes music.
“I’m trying to mix the paint, Athena, what’s the problem?” he asked, impatiently, studying his new concoction and wondering whether it was any more bearable than the Mosaic Pink on its own. Less Polished Ivory? More? He wondered if he could come up with some sort of algorithm to help. An algorithm to determine aesthetic pleasure. The idea intrigued him.
“Dad’s late,” said Athena.
Brem looked up for the first time. Athena was clutching Pinky, and looked terrified. Brem considered his sense of time. “You’re right. He is late. But only by a few minutes.”
“He’s flat,” said Athena, which forced Brem to stop and think, his mind reaching for his father.
She was right. He was flat. Normally, Dad sat in the corner of their minds, there if they needed comforting, soothing, support. But he was…flat. It was the only word for it.
Brem stood, wiping his hands on his jeans and forgetting about the paint project for the time being. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” he said, forcing his voice to be cheerful for Athena’s benefit, although Dad had never been late before, not even a little bit. He looked at Sarah Jane. “We should go to the TARDIS,” he said, hoping he sounded nonchalant and blasé, so that he wouldn’t alarm Athena.
And then he set off purposefully, out of the house and crossing the back garden to where the TARDIS was parked. He dug in his pocket for his key. When he had been a baby, there had always been a TARDIS key pinned somewhere to his person. Now that he was old, he was trusted to carry the key in his pocket, although he’d never had to use it before, and he was secretly excited that Dad had suddenly gone missing, so that he could importantly turn his key in the TARDIS door while Sarah Jane and Athena watched.
Dad was not in the control room, and he called for him, before it dawned on him suddenly what the flatness was. “He’s sleeping,” he realized. It happened so seldom that it had taken him a while to catch it.
Athena seemed determined to find him and make sure for herself. She wandered off into the rest of the TARDIS, calling for him. Brem would have followed after, except that something made him pause by the monitor on the console. There was a small stepping-stool tucked under the console, one he’d never noticed before, and he tugged it over to the controls so he could step up on it and see the monitor.
“Brem?” said Sarah Jane, curiously, as he leaned over the monitor, his eyes running over the Gallifreyan that was dashing across it.
Brem tilted his head at it, ignoring Sarah Jane.
“Oh, there you are,” Sarah Jane said, in relief, and Brem knew his father had entered the control room. “Athena was worried about you.”
Brem turned slowly. Dad had picked Athena up, had her settled against his hip, and his eyes were on Brem. “Why didn’t you tell us?” Brem asked.
“Brem,” his father said, and Brem recognized the tone, the stop-what-you’re-doing-now tone, but ignored it.
“Mum’s been punching holes through from the other universe. You’re through. All you need is someone to hold the breach. All you need to do is call a couple of other Time Lords and we can get Mum. Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because it’s not that simple, Brem.” His tone was tight and clipped, sounding not at all like Dad.
“It is that simple,” Brem insisted, gesturing at the monitor. “I can read, Dad. All you have to do is call someone-”
“I’m not calling anyone-”
“Now is not the time to be too proud to ask for help-”
“It is not a matter of pride-”
“One Time Lord would be enough. I mean, preferably two, but if you can bring yourself to find just one who could help keep the breach open-”
“I am not finding any other Time Lords, Brem-”
“Why not?” Brem demanded, and he felt like he was being reckless.
“Because there aren’t any other Time Lords!” his father shouted. “I killed them all!”
The control room was completely silent, save for their breaths, both of them quick and heaving. Brem backed as far as he could against the console, his hands tight around the railing, as he stared at his father, words turning over in his mind. He was not used to being shouted at it. The words could have been completely innocuous, nothing more than, Do you want cereal for breakfast?, and Brem would have felt cold inside, but Dad’s particular exclamation made him feel like ice had been poured into him. It was an insane thing to say. It couldn’t possibly be true.
And yet he knew, at that moment, it was. He had always assumed he couldn’t feel any other Time Lords because he wasn’t related to them. But he saw now how unlikely that was: no aunts, uncles, cousins, nothing. It was because there were no other Time Lords left. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even think to process the words, just stared, until his father put Athena down, unceremoniously, turned, and stalked out of the control room.
Athena began to cry, but Sarah Jane did not move to pick her up. Brem had the impression she was frozen as well. And Brem forced himself to move, to rouse himself out of this and find his father and mend this, because they were never going to get anywhere if he let himself get stuck in ice. He stepped off the stepping stool, followed his father to his parents’ bedroom, knocked on the door. When he received no answer, he opened it and walked in, which he knew was an indication he was doing the right thing, or the TARDIS would have locked him out.
Dad was slumped deep in the armchair by the fireplace, one hand at his temples. “Oh, Brem, not now,” he said. “Really not now.”
Brem said nothing, walked over to the chair and clambered onto his father’s lap. Dad did not push him away--but he didn’t cuddle him, either.
Brem stared at his face, for the first time thinking that it was entirely impossible he knew nothing about his father. He couldn’t understand why he would have killed everyone. He longed to ask him, to have it be justified, to know that there had been a reason. But he sensed that now was not the time to push for the whole story, that Dad had never had any intention of sharing any of it so soon.
“You didn’t kill all of the Time Lords,” Brem told him.
“Brem.” He sighed. “I know that you want to believe-”
“No, I know you didn’t kill all of the Time Lords. Because there’s me. And there’s Athena. You weren’t really the end. You’re kind of the beginning. We’re not alone. Because we’re us.”
For a moment, there was no reaction. And then his father crushed him into a hug, so tight he momentarily had the wind knocked out of him. But he hugged back, trying to prove his point, and, after a moment, said, into his father’s shoulder, “I can do this, Dad.”
“Can do what?” he asked.
He pushed back, resisting the hug, so he could look his father in the eye. “I can hold the breach open while you fetch Mum.”
“No, you can’t,” his father said, without blinking an eye.
Brem bristled. “Yes, I can.”
“You said it would be preferable to have two Time Lords, but you’d settle for one. And now you think you can do it? You’re four years old.”
“So? I’m a Time Lord, remember? A four-year-old Time Lord isn’t like a four-year-old human. And I can do it. Athena can help me.”
“Athena’s a baby.”
“So it’s a good thing that I’m old, then, isn’t it?”
“You aren’t old. Four is not old. Talk to me in a hundred or so years, and then maybe I’ll consider letting you hold the breach open.”
“I can hold it open now. We don’t have a hundred years. We need to get Mum back now.”
Dad shook his head. “No. No, no, no. The answer is no.”
Brem decided to ignore him. “All we have to do is build me the equipment. The computers and stuff. So I can read it while you take the TARDIS through. The sprolometer, of course. And the digicoil meter, right?”
“Brem, we’re not doing any of this. You’re not holding the breach open for me while I go through.”
“Tell me what other option we have,” Brem demanded. “You know that we don’t.”
His father sighed. “But-”
“I can do this. I know I can. You have to trust me.”
“I trust you, more than I probably should. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re four years old and you want your mother back and you’re willing to-”
Brem pouted. “That’s not fair.”
“What isn’t fair?”
“Accusing me of not thinking clearly. You’re the one who’s not thinking clearly. You didn’t even notice that you had other Time Lords around to help you.”
“I don’t have other Time Lords. I have children.”
“Yes, but we’re your children. You know we’re brilliant. You know we can do this.”
“No, I don’t. If I ‘knew’ it, I’d let you do it.”
“You’ve been doing things on your own so long, you’ve forgotten how to let other people help.”
“I let plenty of people help. Grown, adult people.”
Brem pouted again. “At least help me build the equipment, and then you can quiz me, and I can prove it.”
His father studied him closely, eyes flickering over his features. “Your mother would never forgive me if I let you do this, be responsible for this.”
“I’d rather Mum never forgive you than you never give Mum the chance to get angry about it.”
“I’d rather we get Mum back and not have her be angry with me.”
“Welllllll, sure, that’d be ideal,” shrugged Brem. “But we should take what we can get, don’t you think?”
“I think you’re mad. I think this is the quite possibly the worst idea ever, out of nine hundred years of bad ideas.”
“I think it’s the only thing that even has a chance of working, and you know it. You’ve known it for a while. You can’t find another way. Nobody could. Please. I can’t let us live this life without Mum, knowing that I could have got her back for us but I didn’t.” Brem played his trump card then, making his eyes wide with innocence. “Don’t make me feel guilty about that for the rest of my life.”
His father groaned and dropped his head back against the chair. “Your mother,” he said, “was dead wrong when she thought letting you read every psychology book in the library was a good idea.”
Brem grinned and wriggled off his father’s lap, aware he’d won. “I’ll go gather us some materials.”
“Absolutely, magnificently, fabulously wrong,” Dad shouted, as Brem skipped out of the room.
**********************
The Doctor knew he had to tell Brem that no, absolutely not, no matter how much he blathered on about guilt and loneliness and beginnings and whatever else manipulative tripe he’d seized upon, he was most certainly not going through the breach with Brem the one responsible for holding it open. The problem was that Brem was, well, Brem, and the longer the Doctor sat in the armchair, by the empty fireplace, the more he thought that maybe Brem could do it. He would never have thought this at any previous time in his life, that a four-year-old could successfully hold open a parallel world breach, but the truth was he could never have imagined a creature like Brem, either. Maybe Brem could do it. Maybe this was the way. The only way.
At first, when the first hole was punched through from the other universe, he’d been jubilant. His brilliant, gorgeous, brilliant Rose had figured this out for him! The walls between the universes were solid on his side, because he’d been there to make sure it sealed properly. It made sense that it was weaker on her side, that it would be on her side that the breach should happen. All he had to do now was keep the breach open, long enough to get himself through it, get Rose, and get back. It would have been easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy in the old days. And next to impossible now. Where would he find someone to stay in this universe to keep the breach open? What were his other options? He could think of none. The initial jubilation had faded, back into the same labyrinthine depression he’d been stranded in before.
But now, just like that, there existed the possibility, all of a sudden, that he could find a way out. It was, in a way, kind of the most obvious solution of them all. Brem could do it. It was really true that Brem might actually be able to do it.
He pulled himself out of the armchair. The TARDIS was deserted, save for a heap of scraps he knew Brem had foraged for to make the equipment he insisted he was going to need, and he wandered up to Sarah Jane’s house. He felt better than he had in weeks, he had to admit. It was madness to put all of this on the shoulders of a four-year-old. Complete and utter madness. But it didn’t seem that way at the moment. It seemed like sheer genius, like he’d rather have Brem in charge than any other being in the universe, even if other Time Lords did still exist.
They were painting a room an appalling shade of pink, and the Doctor leaned on the doorjamb and watched them for a second, unnoticed. Athena was seated, carefully running her paintbrush along the edge of the moulding, and the idea amused the Doctor. They let Athena do the detail work? Both Sarah Jane and Brem were working with rollers, Brem on the bottom half of the walls, Sarah Jane on the top half. Brem’s face was puckered with concentration as he painted, as he sang along to the music he was blasting. Juanes, the Doctor realized. How had the kid come up with that? Of all the music in the TARDIS, to grab that to paint by?
“It’s…an interesting colour,” he ventured finally.
Athena looked at him and beamed. “I chose it.”
“You don’t say,” he replied, pretending to be shocked, as he smiled at her. It was astonishing to him how naturally sunny Athena was, how easily she forgave him everything. He knew he’d terrified her by shouting. He knew also she’d never bring it up again. She was the very opposite of Brem. Brem hadn’t pushed the issue, but he knew that, once he’d decided it was time to know, he’d never let the subject drop until he’d laid bare every excruciating detail about the Time War. It was not a conversation the Doctor relished.
Brem was watching him, and he turned his attention to him. “Let’s talk,” he said.
Brem grinned brilliantly, dropping the roller carefully into its tray before following the Doctor. The Doctor led them to Sarah Jane’s kitchen, and sat at the table. Brem took the hint and took the other seat.
“Did you see the stuff I managed to pull together?” he asked, enthusiastically. “We may need to stop at a couple of planets, I think-”
“We are not building you equipment from scratch,” the Doctor interrupted him.
Brem sighed, as if dealing with his father was a tremendous burden for him to bear. “I thought we’d settled this.”
“We didn’t settle anything. I never actually told you that I was going to allow you to do this.”
“You’re very preoccupied with my age,” Brem grumbled.
The Doctor smiled at him. “The reason we’re not building you equipment from scratch is because I know someone who has all this equipment already.”
There was a moment of astonished silence. “You do? You know someone? Who?” And then, after another beat, “You’re really going to let me do it?”
“I am,” he affirmed.
Brem grinned, plainly delighted. “We’ll get Mum back. You’ll see.” There was another pause. “Who has all this equipment I can use?”
The Doctor smiled and stood. “Come on. Let’s go tell Sarah Jane that we’re leaving.”
Athena gifted Sarah Jane with a doll before they left, a token of the highest regard by Athena’s standards. Sarah Jane accepted it with a great solemnity and promised to make sure it was tucked soundly into bed each night, a promise that tickled Athena, whose dolls were like her and never slept.
She hugged Brem good-bye, thanking him for the all the painting, and remarking, “You are both exactly and not at all like your father.”
“We’re complicated and Gallifreyan,” Brem replied, wisely. “We can accomplish that.”
Sarah Jane walked them up to the TARDIS, keeping pace with the Doctor while the kids ran ahead. “When you get Rose back, promise you’ll all come to dinner.”
“Absolutely,” he said.
“You will get Rose back.”
The Doctor smiled. “You know, I think we just might. Brem is so sure. And there is something about his being so sure that’s just…infectious.”
“Even if you don’t get her back, you must bring the kids back to visit. None of this falling out of touch for years at a time.”
“No,” he agreed. “Not anymore.”
“But you’ll get her back,” Sarah Jane finished, hastily.
The kids had run ahead of them into the TARDIS. The Doctor paused by the open door, looking back at Sarah Jane and then swooping her into a hug. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”
And then he stepped into the TARDIS and closed the door behind him. The kids looked at him expectantly from beside the controls, curious as to their next destination.
And so it came to pass that the Doctor went to visit Jack Harkness.
Next Chapter