Crossroads - A Blue Gravel Path (10/13)
Title: A Blue Gravel Path
Characters: The Doctor, Rose Tyler, among others
Warnings: PG. Oh, and it’s baby!fic.
Spoilers: For the sake of this story, S4 never happens.
Beta: runriggers
Part of the Crossroads series
A now AU and non-S4 compliant story. Ah well.
Part One: Reflections
Part Two: One Day
Part Three: Choices and Chances
Part Four: A Blue Gravel Path - Chapter One ~ Chapter Two ~ Chapter Three ~ Chapter Four ~ Chapter Five ~ Chapter Six ~ Chapter Seven ~ Chapter Eight ~ Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten: Along the Doctor’s Path..... The Doctor takes a solitary walk on an unfamiliar path. Solitary - but not alone.
A/N: Citations are listed at the end of the chapter.
Chapter Ten: Along the Doctor’s Path
The path stretched before him, long and winding. Careening over so many hills and twisting along so many valleys, it was impossible for the Doctor to see very far ahead of him. It didn't seem to matter. The view was pleasant, though barren, and as he strolled, he listened to the musical crunch of the gravel beneath his feet.
The gravel was a familiar shade of blue, but the Doctor couldn't place it. The blank and empty desert was familiar as well, but the Doctor couldn't remember seeing a desert like it before. It stretched out to either side of the path, breathtaking to see, somehow repulsive to explore. The Doctor wanted to step right to the edge of the path and gaze out on the wide expanse, to sniff out any sort of life there worth reaching, but his feet kept moving on the path. This lack of control might have worried him once; it didn't seem to matter just then.
There were so many interesting things to see along the path. The landscape offered no respite for his thoughts, but there were plenty of small pathways veering off the true course, dusty and unused, spinning out at haphazard intervals, smaller tributaries spinning into ever smaller trickles. They intrigued him, those other paths; their blue faded but the gravel inviting. He strained to try one, but his feet kept moving, kept marching, refusing to stray. As the Doctor passed by, he couldn't help but feel regret, brief and sharp, somehow knowing he wouldn't be able to return to that lost path again.
The quiet emptiness of the world soothed him. No sound but those of his own thoughts, and the wind whistling around him, ruffling his hair and caressing the back of his neck. The whistles were less like music than like words the Doctor couldn’t quite catch - every so often he thought that if he listened very closely, he might understand what the wind tried to tell him.
We're nowhere. It's as simple as that.
The words came unbidden, not from his head, or the wind, but as if they were encased in the dust at his feet, kicked up as he walked along, and it was only by chance that they reached his ears at all. They were almost familiar, those words, but he didn’t know who might have said them, or when, or where, or why.
The Doctor supposed he was the only man who existed in the world, but did not feel the least bit lonely. He felt wrapped in comfort and companionship, as if even now, someone walked the path alongside him. He could not see them; he could not talk to them, or touch them, but there was someone there all the same, not always the same person, but someone or even several someones at once, and he did not feel alone, except in brief snatches while the someones traded places.
The gravel crunched beneath his feet; the Doctor wondered how gravel was so blue. It took a supreme act of will to stop moving, and he knelt to run the gravel between his fingers, quickly coated in blue dust. The smooth, small pebbles ran out of his hand in a tinkling stream. The dust circled and twisted in the wind like smoke, and a cacophony of voices flitted in the air, dissipating in the breeze. There were too many voices to discern any one of them, too many words tumbling to catch any single phrase, but some were repeated, over and over.
Mmm, what’s that…butterfingers…reversed polarity…hello-o-o…
Fantastic!
He licked the dust from a finger. The flavors that burst on his tongue made him grin. He tasted the ice creams and jams and bananas and chocolates of a thousand planets. He felt the velvets and leathers and brocades and hands of a thousand moments. He smelled the pine trees, the spiced apples, the seawater, the roses....
"Rose," said the Doctor suddenly, and his voice echoed in the emptiness, the word rising above him to fill the sky. The wind seemed to laugh at him, echoing the name; the dust swirled around him, repeating it in half a dozen voices. The Doctor stood. "I remember Rose. Where is Rose?"
The path began to spin around him, as though he were the pin and it the wheel, faster and faster until the Doctor could see nothing but a blue blur racing before his eyes. The dizziness rushed over him - he wasn't sure he could last another minute. The dust filled his eyes and nose and mouth, but more so, filled his ears.
I'm suffering from post-regeneration amnesia, as far as I can remember.
I've stopped the universe. Still, they'll never notice.
That's a bit undramatic, isn't it? "Belgium"?
We're falling through space, you and me.
Clinging to the skin of this tiny little world,
and if we let go…
"Stop!" he shouted.
The blue spinning vanished, and the Doctor stood on the path again, but no longer stretched before him - in fact, he seemed to be standing on the very end of it, the blue gravel simply running out just inches past his toes. There was nothing ahead of him except the open expanse of space, the barren desert stretching into infinity, and the Doctor, for the first time on his journey, felt the awful loneliness of time ending, a book closing with a final thud.
"Turn around,” whispered the wind in a soft, feminine voice that tickled his memory, and the Doctor did as instructed, to find the pathway which had stretched out behind him - now before him. The empty fear of ending melted away from him, leaving only a trembling anticipation. The world was beginning again; his journey was about to start. Rose was not here; but the Doctor had the sense that he would find her by following the path; Rose was at the end of it.
"Where are you?" he called, answered only by her laughter floating on the wind. His feet were freed, and the Doctor began walking along the path again, following the laughter. He did not stumble, but the dust lifted around him, caking his shoes and coating his trousers, and every so often, a pebble would skip ahead of him, propelled by his shoe, the dust dancing in its wake.
Planets come and go. Stars perish.
Matter disperses, coalesces, forms into other patterns, other worlds.
Nothing can be eternal.
He walked for a thousand years, every step a single day, but he did not grow weary. He saw the untried paths as he passed, but felt no urge to examine them. One in particular was strong - inviting and tempting, and the Doctor paused before it, seeing it stretch to the horizon, just as long and friendly as the one he traveled. He thought he could see faded footprints on it, small indentures nearly washed away by time and patience.
Perhaps I should go home.
Back to my own planet. But I can't... I can't...
In the end, he continued walking, following the laughter, and did not stop again.
He had been going for some time, his thoughts blank save for when the dust gave him words to ponder, when he first saw them: two figures standing in the distance. They appeared to wait for him, and the Doctor picked up his pace. It was as he drew closer that he realized neither figure stood on his path; instead, they waited for him on one of the tributaries. As if in a dream, the Doctor felt he knew them fairly well, but he didn't recognize either of them. He kept his focus on them as he approached, and soon enough was standing opposite them, his hands in his pockets.
They were utterly unlike each other, the two women facing the Doctor. One was younger than the other, but the Doctor would have hesitated to call her young. Despite her smooth face and long black hair, her eyes were as old and ancient as anything else. Her companion was older, her hair gray and thin, the lines on her face giving her a kindly look which her eyes did not match. They were bright and wide, looking around in all directions at once. The two women were equally familiar to him, but even face-to-face, the Doctor could not think of why.
"I know this place," he said, and the younger woman smiled, nodding just a bit. "Rose was here. She described it to me. She walked this path once."
The older woman's eyes lit up. "This is the path Rose took to see me."
The Doctor turned to her, wondering how the woman knew Rose. This was connected to how he knew Rose, and he wasn't even sure yet who Rose was.
"I know you," he said slowly. "Don't I?"
The older woman inhaled sharply and turned to her companion. "He doesn't know me?"
The black-haired woman tapped her chin thoughtfully. "He's forgotten - or at least can't access the memories from here."
"I know you too," said the Doctor. "And you shouldn't be with her - I know that, too. Why do I know that, if I don’t know you?"
"Do you know who you are?"
The Doctor scoffed, flapping his overcoat. "Of course, I'm the Doctor!"
"Then what's my name?" challenged the younger woman, and the Doctor nearly laughed, tossing his head back and flapping his coat even more. The dust kicked up around him.
Yes, that's right, you're going.
You've been gone for ages.
You're already gone.
You're still here.
You've just arrived.
I haven't even met you yet.
It all depends on who you are
and how you look at it.
Strange business, time.
The Doctor blinked; but neither woman made a move. He wondered if he was the only one who could hear the voices. "Your name?"
“Go on - you knew me once. Name me."
The half smile on her face was familiar - the way her eyes danced, her utter and complete assurance that he would call her by name. He found himself mentally working back on the blue gravel path, turning back the years he'd walked over, and the name came to him, as clearly as a penny dropped in water.
"Carissa." His eyes widened. “Carissa?"
Her wide smiled brightened, and the memories flooded into him. The grin spread across his face, and he took a step toward her, suddenly wanting nothing more than to touch her again, to feel her hand in his. But Carissa took a step back, holding up her hand to stop him.
"No, Doctor,” she said quickly. "You can't step off your path."
“My path," echoed the Doctor, and glanced down to where the two paths met, the line where the blue gravel faded into grey. "Is that what this is? Where your path and mine meet?"
"No,” replied Carissa. “My path has long since ended - I died when you ended the Time War, and since then I've walked all the alternate paths available to me. I am here to help Jackie on her path."
The Doctor turned rapidly to the other woman. The name seemed to spark something in his memory, drawing a picture of a woman who might have once been the figure standing before him. "Jackie. Jackie Tyler?"
The woman rolled her eyes. “Ah, remembered me at last, did you?"
"Oi, walking an odd blue path here, not exactly in my element, am I?" countered the Doctor, and Carissa laughed.
"No, you certainly aren't. Funny that, since you pulled Rose Tyler through one thirty years ago."
“Rose,” breathed the Doctor, and those memories began flooding back as well. "But how do you know Rose, she was years after I last saw you-"
Carissa smiled, but her eyes were sad. "Oh, my Theta - do you think I never watched you? Do you think when we last spoke, it was the last time I saw you? I know you haven't given me much thought in the years since we first saw the crossroads, but I regretted it for years after, that we'd lost such a chance to be happy together."
The name she used gave him an odd thrum, like a musical note that filled his body with a sense of belonging and joy - not in the name itself, but what it represented to him. It wasn't quite the same fit as Doctor, but he could feel that it belonged to him all the same.
Carissa laughed then, recognizing his thoughts. "Not your name - but yes. It is yours, or was once. It isn't my place to call your name any longer. You've given that to another.”
“To Rose,” said the Doctor, still wondering about Theta. "Where is Rose?"
"Home, waiting for you,” replied Carissa. "You'll know how to find your way home when it's time to go."
The Doctor frowned. “You - you won't come with me?"
Carissa shook her head. “I can't return to your world, Doctor - I can only walk the other paths. Should I return to the world that belongs to me for any length of time, I would fade."
His hearts tightened just then, and the Doctor swallowed. “Because of me.”
She smiled. "It's for the best. I'll walk alongside you - but on a different path."
"How?"
"It's the chance I took, in my last moments - I wanted to see what would have happened, if we'd taken the other path, the day we created a crossroads. Do you remember that day, Doctor?"
“Orbiting Varicose 3," he said slowly, the memory coming to him in snatches. "Your first TARDIS, and we watched the world move with our feet dangling in the dust of creation.”
Her smile was wide and beautiful. "Yes. You kissed me, and didn't know what to make of it."
"You didn't reciprocate."
“I did - on the other path,” she told him. “And I went back, to see what happened when I chose to return your kiss."
His expression was unreadable; but his hearts beat in an unusual pattern. "What happened?"
Carissa smiled. "Does it matter? I can tell you that you're on the better path."
The Doctor shook his head. “It matters to me."
Carissa closed her eyes briefly, and the Doctor took another step closer to the joining of the paths. Her eyes flew open, as if sensing his nearness, and she reached out with her hands to grasp his temples. “Here, then,” she whispered, and let the memories flood into him; he shifted, her fingers unreasonably cold on his skin, and a thin wisp of dust rose between them.
Love has never been noted for its rationality.
Racing across the galaxies, two steps ahead of the angry Time Lords of the Academy, upset that they’d broken traditions and defied their culture to believe in a foolish thing such as love. Stopping off on Earth as a lark, and deciding to stay for several centuries, just for fun, and averting a few wars in the process, and sending history running off in a parallel direction. Kisses, and caresses, and long languid nights in bed when neither of them bothered to move except to move with each other. The intense sorrow when one would regenerate, the guilty joy of finding pleasure in the new bodies of each other.
The realization, at the end, that it was the end, that he was dying, and then she was alone, again, as always, dying herself on a strange and remote planet, unable to find Gallifrey, unable to find him.
“Some of it was good,” the Doctor whispered, and Carissa nodded.
“Some of it,” she replied, tinged with sorrow. “But your path-" Her eyes widened. “A son?”
The Doctor pulled away, and Carissa’s hands dropped. “He died. On Gallifrey, years ago - you know this.”
Carissa shook her head. “I meant your son on Earth. Your son with Rose.”
“You mean Dex,” interrupted Jackie, and the Doctor took another step backwards, staring at the both of them. The name was familiar to him, but again, he could not place it. “How can you not remember Dex, Doctor? Your own son?”
“He isn’t himself yet,” explained Carissa, gazing at the Doctor. “He hasn’t been named, and I cannot do it for him.” She took Jackie’s hand in hers. "I need you to do me a very last favor, Doctor.”
His eyes refocused on her, still filled with confusion. “Very last? Then - I won’t see you again?”
Carissa smiled. “Oh, I hold no illusions that I’ll see you again. Not in such a way that we can speak face to face, at least. But for now, you have to return to Rose Tyler. And I would like for you to take Jackie with you."
The Doctor glanced at Jackie. “But - why Jackie?”
“Jackie is Rose’s mother,” said Carissa gently, and the Doctor inhaled sharply.
"I don't understand."
"There's a lot you don't understand," replied Jackie, the bitterness in her voice not sounding quite as out of place as it might have done once. The Doctor's eyes widened just a bit; he had the sense that Carissa was watching him very closely.
"Then explain it to me.”
The older woman sighed, and rubbed her eyes with a hand. “I'm an old woman now, Doctor. I see more clearly than I did when I was younger, and I thought I saw pretty clear then, too. You kept your promise, the one made when I sent you my Rose. You loved her and cared for her, and not a single call ended but I could hear her joy and love in her voice. I know sending her to you was the right thing to do, and it's difficult for me to regret having done it." Jackie looked up at him then, and the Doctor swallowed. "But you see - I never thought, when I sent her to you. I didn't realize that I would be the last to remember her. My children never really knew Rose; she's a phantom to them. Mickey doesn't talk about her, doesn't really think of her any longer. I don't have my daughter, Doctor, in any way that counts for me. I can't hold her in my arms, and there isn't anyone who remembers her as I do."
Jackie laughed, a low, bitter, dry thing. "I think you and I - I understand you now. This must be what you feel like, all those thousand years you've lived. There must be hundreds of people you've met and loved, and you're the only one left who remembers them. You and I, Doctor - it's not just Rose who binds us."
"No,” replied the Doctor, his voice low, and he looked at Carissa, whose steady gaze remained focused on him. “It never really was."
He offered Jackie his hand, and she took it, stepping easily from the grey path to his bright blue gravel. The air shimmered around them; she seemed to spring into color, the grey washing her hair to blonde, the dark circles under her eyes fading to pink. Her hand was warm in his, another memory below the surface threatening to rise.
A straight line may be the shortest distance between two points,
but it is by no means the most interesting.
Carissa smiled then, and reached to cup his cheek in her hand. The movement warmed him and seemed familiar, though her face was not the one he expected to see. Her hair was dark, and her eyes were light; he had the idea that Rose was the opposite in every way that mattered. Still, Carissa leaned forward and kissed him, gently, letting her lips settle on his for a moment before pulling away.
“I wish I could regret that the other me took the chance, Theta,” she whispered, “but I don’t.”
“Carissa-"
But she pulled away, out of his reach. “Rose,” she reminded him. “Give Rose my love.”
Together, the Doctor and Jackie began walking, and did not look back.
Never mind the citations, jump to Chapter Eleven
*
The Quotes (in order of appearance):
We're nowhere. It's as simple as that. - Second Doctor, “The Mind Robber”
Mmm, what’s that…butterfingers…reversed polarity…hello-o-o…Fantastic! - “Catchphrases” from Doctors One, Two, Three, Four, and Nine (in that order).
I'm suffering from post-regeneration amnesia, as far as I can remember. - Seventh Doctor, “Time and the Rani”
I've stopped the universe. Still, they'll never notice. - Fourth Doctor, “The Armageddon Factor”
That's a bit undramatic, isn't it? "Belgium"? - Fifth Doctor, “Time Crash”
We're falling through space, you and me. Clinging to the skin of this tiny little world, and if we let go… - Ninth Doctor, “Rose”
Planets come and go. Stars perish. Matter disperses, coalesces, forms into other patterns, other worlds. Nothing can be eternal. - Sixth Doctor, “The Mysterious Planet”
Perhaps I should go home. Back to my own planet. But I can't... I can't... - First Doctor, “The Massacre of St Bartholomew's Eve”
Yes, that's right, you're going. You've been gone for ages. You're already gone. You're still here. You've just arrived. I haven't even met you yet. It all depends on who you are and how you look at it. Strange business, time. - Seventh Doctor, “Dragonfire”
Love has never been noted for its rationality. - Seventh Doctor, “Delta and the Bannermen”
A straight line may be the shortest distance between two points, but it is by no means the most interesting. - Third Doctor, “The Time Warrior”
Jump to Chapter Eleven
Characters: The Doctor, Rose Tyler, among others
Warnings: PG. Oh, and it’s baby!fic.
Spoilers: For the sake of this story, S4 never happens.
Beta: runriggers
Part of the Crossroads series
A now AU and non-S4 compliant story. Ah well.
Part One: Reflections
Part Two: One Day
Part Three: Choices and Chances
Part Four: A Blue Gravel Path - Chapter One ~ Chapter Two ~ Chapter Three ~ Chapter Four ~ Chapter Five ~ Chapter Six ~ Chapter Seven ~ Chapter Eight ~ Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten: Along the Doctor’s Path..... The Doctor takes a solitary walk on an unfamiliar path. Solitary - but not alone.
A/N: Citations are listed at the end of the chapter.
Chapter Ten: Along the Doctor’s Path
The path stretched before him, long and winding. Careening over so many hills and twisting along so many valleys, it was impossible for the Doctor to see very far ahead of him. It didn't seem to matter. The view was pleasant, though barren, and as he strolled, he listened to the musical crunch of the gravel beneath his feet.
The gravel was a familiar shade of blue, but the Doctor couldn't place it. The blank and empty desert was familiar as well, but the Doctor couldn't remember seeing a desert like it before. It stretched out to either side of the path, breathtaking to see, somehow repulsive to explore. The Doctor wanted to step right to the edge of the path and gaze out on the wide expanse, to sniff out any sort of life there worth reaching, but his feet kept moving on the path. This lack of control might have worried him once; it didn't seem to matter just then.
There were so many interesting things to see along the path. The landscape offered no respite for his thoughts, but there were plenty of small pathways veering off the true course, dusty and unused, spinning out at haphazard intervals, smaller tributaries spinning into ever smaller trickles. They intrigued him, those other paths; their blue faded but the gravel inviting. He strained to try one, but his feet kept moving, kept marching, refusing to stray. As the Doctor passed by, he couldn't help but feel regret, brief and sharp, somehow knowing he wouldn't be able to return to that lost path again.
The quiet emptiness of the world soothed him. No sound but those of his own thoughts, and the wind whistling around him, ruffling his hair and caressing the back of his neck. The whistles were less like music than like words the Doctor couldn’t quite catch - every so often he thought that if he listened very closely, he might understand what the wind tried to tell him.
We're nowhere. It's as simple as that.
The words came unbidden, not from his head, or the wind, but as if they were encased in the dust at his feet, kicked up as he walked along, and it was only by chance that they reached his ears at all. They were almost familiar, those words, but he didn’t know who might have said them, or when, or where, or why.
The Doctor supposed he was the only man who existed in the world, but did not feel the least bit lonely. He felt wrapped in comfort and companionship, as if even now, someone walked the path alongside him. He could not see them; he could not talk to them, or touch them, but there was someone there all the same, not always the same person, but someone or even several someones at once, and he did not feel alone, except in brief snatches while the someones traded places.
The gravel crunched beneath his feet; the Doctor wondered how gravel was so blue. It took a supreme act of will to stop moving, and he knelt to run the gravel between his fingers, quickly coated in blue dust. The smooth, small pebbles ran out of his hand in a tinkling stream. The dust circled and twisted in the wind like smoke, and a cacophony of voices flitted in the air, dissipating in the breeze. There were too many voices to discern any one of them, too many words tumbling to catch any single phrase, but some were repeated, over and over.
Mmm, what’s that…butterfingers…reversed polarity…hello-o-o…
Fantastic!
He licked the dust from a finger. The flavors that burst on his tongue made him grin. He tasted the ice creams and jams and bananas and chocolates of a thousand planets. He felt the velvets and leathers and brocades and hands of a thousand moments. He smelled the pine trees, the spiced apples, the seawater, the roses....
"Rose," said the Doctor suddenly, and his voice echoed in the emptiness, the word rising above him to fill the sky. The wind seemed to laugh at him, echoing the name; the dust swirled around him, repeating it in half a dozen voices. The Doctor stood. "I remember Rose. Where is Rose?"
The path began to spin around him, as though he were the pin and it the wheel, faster and faster until the Doctor could see nothing but a blue blur racing before his eyes. The dizziness rushed over him - he wasn't sure he could last another minute. The dust filled his eyes and nose and mouth, but more so, filled his ears.
I'm suffering from post-regeneration amnesia, as far as I can remember.
I've stopped the universe. Still, they'll never notice.
That's a bit undramatic, isn't it? "Belgium"?
We're falling through space, you and me.
Clinging to the skin of this tiny little world,
and if we let go…
"Stop!" he shouted.
The blue spinning vanished, and the Doctor stood on the path again, but no longer stretched before him - in fact, he seemed to be standing on the very end of it, the blue gravel simply running out just inches past his toes. There was nothing ahead of him except the open expanse of space, the barren desert stretching into infinity, and the Doctor, for the first time on his journey, felt the awful loneliness of time ending, a book closing with a final thud.
"Turn around,” whispered the wind in a soft, feminine voice that tickled his memory, and the Doctor did as instructed, to find the pathway which had stretched out behind him - now before him. The empty fear of ending melted away from him, leaving only a trembling anticipation. The world was beginning again; his journey was about to start. Rose was not here; but the Doctor had the sense that he would find her by following the path; Rose was at the end of it.
"Where are you?" he called, answered only by her laughter floating on the wind. His feet were freed, and the Doctor began walking along the path again, following the laughter. He did not stumble, but the dust lifted around him, caking his shoes and coating his trousers, and every so often, a pebble would skip ahead of him, propelled by his shoe, the dust dancing in its wake.
Planets come and go. Stars perish.
Matter disperses, coalesces, forms into other patterns, other worlds.
Nothing can be eternal.
He walked for a thousand years, every step a single day, but he did not grow weary. He saw the untried paths as he passed, but felt no urge to examine them. One in particular was strong - inviting and tempting, and the Doctor paused before it, seeing it stretch to the horizon, just as long and friendly as the one he traveled. He thought he could see faded footprints on it, small indentures nearly washed away by time and patience.
Perhaps I should go home.
Back to my own planet. But I can't... I can't...
In the end, he continued walking, following the laughter, and did not stop again.
He had been going for some time, his thoughts blank save for when the dust gave him words to ponder, when he first saw them: two figures standing in the distance. They appeared to wait for him, and the Doctor picked up his pace. It was as he drew closer that he realized neither figure stood on his path; instead, they waited for him on one of the tributaries. As if in a dream, the Doctor felt he knew them fairly well, but he didn't recognize either of them. He kept his focus on them as he approached, and soon enough was standing opposite them, his hands in his pockets.
They were utterly unlike each other, the two women facing the Doctor. One was younger than the other, but the Doctor would have hesitated to call her young. Despite her smooth face and long black hair, her eyes were as old and ancient as anything else. Her companion was older, her hair gray and thin, the lines on her face giving her a kindly look which her eyes did not match. They were bright and wide, looking around in all directions at once. The two women were equally familiar to him, but even face-to-face, the Doctor could not think of why.
"I know this place," he said, and the younger woman smiled, nodding just a bit. "Rose was here. She described it to me. She walked this path once."
The older woman's eyes lit up. "This is the path Rose took to see me."
The Doctor turned to her, wondering how the woman knew Rose. This was connected to how he knew Rose, and he wasn't even sure yet who Rose was.
"I know you," he said slowly. "Don't I?"
The older woman inhaled sharply and turned to her companion. "He doesn't know me?"
The black-haired woman tapped her chin thoughtfully. "He's forgotten - or at least can't access the memories from here."
"I know you too," said the Doctor. "And you shouldn't be with her - I know that, too. Why do I know that, if I don’t know you?"
"Do you know who you are?"
The Doctor scoffed, flapping his overcoat. "Of course, I'm the Doctor!"
"Then what's my name?" challenged the younger woman, and the Doctor nearly laughed, tossing his head back and flapping his coat even more. The dust kicked up around him.
Yes, that's right, you're going.
You've been gone for ages.
You're already gone.
You're still here.
You've just arrived.
I haven't even met you yet.
It all depends on who you are
and how you look at it.
Strange business, time.
The Doctor blinked; but neither woman made a move. He wondered if he was the only one who could hear the voices. "Your name?"
“Go on - you knew me once. Name me."
The half smile on her face was familiar - the way her eyes danced, her utter and complete assurance that he would call her by name. He found himself mentally working back on the blue gravel path, turning back the years he'd walked over, and the name came to him, as clearly as a penny dropped in water.
"Carissa." His eyes widened. “Carissa?"
Her wide smiled brightened, and the memories flooded into him. The grin spread across his face, and he took a step toward her, suddenly wanting nothing more than to touch her again, to feel her hand in his. But Carissa took a step back, holding up her hand to stop him.
"No, Doctor,” she said quickly. "You can't step off your path."
“My path," echoed the Doctor, and glanced down to where the two paths met, the line where the blue gravel faded into grey. "Is that what this is? Where your path and mine meet?"
"No,” replied Carissa. “My path has long since ended - I died when you ended the Time War, and since then I've walked all the alternate paths available to me. I am here to help Jackie on her path."
The Doctor turned rapidly to the other woman. The name seemed to spark something in his memory, drawing a picture of a woman who might have once been the figure standing before him. "Jackie. Jackie Tyler?"
The woman rolled her eyes. “Ah, remembered me at last, did you?"
"Oi, walking an odd blue path here, not exactly in my element, am I?" countered the Doctor, and Carissa laughed.
"No, you certainly aren't. Funny that, since you pulled Rose Tyler through one thirty years ago."
“Rose,” breathed the Doctor, and those memories began flooding back as well. "But how do you know Rose, she was years after I last saw you-"
Carissa smiled, but her eyes were sad. "Oh, my Theta - do you think I never watched you? Do you think when we last spoke, it was the last time I saw you? I know you haven't given me much thought in the years since we first saw the crossroads, but I regretted it for years after, that we'd lost such a chance to be happy together."
The name she used gave him an odd thrum, like a musical note that filled his body with a sense of belonging and joy - not in the name itself, but what it represented to him. It wasn't quite the same fit as Doctor, but he could feel that it belonged to him all the same.
Carissa laughed then, recognizing his thoughts. "Not your name - but yes. It is yours, or was once. It isn't my place to call your name any longer. You've given that to another.”
“To Rose,” said the Doctor, still wondering about Theta. "Where is Rose?"
"Home, waiting for you,” replied Carissa. "You'll know how to find your way home when it's time to go."
The Doctor frowned. “You - you won't come with me?"
Carissa shook her head. “I can't return to your world, Doctor - I can only walk the other paths. Should I return to the world that belongs to me for any length of time, I would fade."
His hearts tightened just then, and the Doctor swallowed. “Because of me.”
She smiled. "It's for the best. I'll walk alongside you - but on a different path."
"How?"
"It's the chance I took, in my last moments - I wanted to see what would have happened, if we'd taken the other path, the day we created a crossroads. Do you remember that day, Doctor?"
“Orbiting Varicose 3," he said slowly, the memory coming to him in snatches. "Your first TARDIS, and we watched the world move with our feet dangling in the dust of creation.”
Her smile was wide and beautiful. "Yes. You kissed me, and didn't know what to make of it."
"You didn't reciprocate."
“I did - on the other path,” she told him. “And I went back, to see what happened when I chose to return your kiss."
His expression was unreadable; but his hearts beat in an unusual pattern. "What happened?"
Carissa smiled. "Does it matter? I can tell you that you're on the better path."
The Doctor shook his head. “It matters to me."
Carissa closed her eyes briefly, and the Doctor took another step closer to the joining of the paths. Her eyes flew open, as if sensing his nearness, and she reached out with her hands to grasp his temples. “Here, then,” she whispered, and let the memories flood into him; he shifted, her fingers unreasonably cold on his skin, and a thin wisp of dust rose between them.
Love has never been noted for its rationality.
Racing across the galaxies, two steps ahead of the angry Time Lords of the Academy, upset that they’d broken traditions and defied their culture to believe in a foolish thing such as love. Stopping off on Earth as a lark, and deciding to stay for several centuries, just for fun, and averting a few wars in the process, and sending history running off in a parallel direction. Kisses, and caresses, and long languid nights in bed when neither of them bothered to move except to move with each other. The intense sorrow when one would regenerate, the guilty joy of finding pleasure in the new bodies of each other.
The realization, at the end, that it was the end, that he was dying, and then she was alone, again, as always, dying herself on a strange and remote planet, unable to find Gallifrey, unable to find him.
“Some of it was good,” the Doctor whispered, and Carissa nodded.
“Some of it,” she replied, tinged with sorrow. “But your path-" Her eyes widened. “A son?”
The Doctor pulled away, and Carissa’s hands dropped. “He died. On Gallifrey, years ago - you know this.”
Carissa shook her head. “I meant your son on Earth. Your son with Rose.”
“You mean Dex,” interrupted Jackie, and the Doctor took another step backwards, staring at the both of them. The name was familiar to him, but again, he could not place it. “How can you not remember Dex, Doctor? Your own son?”
“He isn’t himself yet,” explained Carissa, gazing at the Doctor. “He hasn’t been named, and I cannot do it for him.” She took Jackie’s hand in hers. "I need you to do me a very last favor, Doctor.”
His eyes refocused on her, still filled with confusion. “Very last? Then - I won’t see you again?”
Carissa smiled. “Oh, I hold no illusions that I’ll see you again. Not in such a way that we can speak face to face, at least. But for now, you have to return to Rose Tyler. And I would like for you to take Jackie with you."
The Doctor glanced at Jackie. “But - why Jackie?”
“Jackie is Rose’s mother,” said Carissa gently, and the Doctor inhaled sharply.
"I don't understand."
"There's a lot you don't understand," replied Jackie, the bitterness in her voice not sounding quite as out of place as it might have done once. The Doctor's eyes widened just a bit; he had the sense that Carissa was watching him very closely.
"Then explain it to me.”
The older woman sighed, and rubbed her eyes with a hand. “I'm an old woman now, Doctor. I see more clearly than I did when I was younger, and I thought I saw pretty clear then, too. You kept your promise, the one made when I sent you my Rose. You loved her and cared for her, and not a single call ended but I could hear her joy and love in her voice. I know sending her to you was the right thing to do, and it's difficult for me to regret having done it." Jackie looked up at him then, and the Doctor swallowed. "But you see - I never thought, when I sent her to you. I didn't realize that I would be the last to remember her. My children never really knew Rose; she's a phantom to them. Mickey doesn't talk about her, doesn't really think of her any longer. I don't have my daughter, Doctor, in any way that counts for me. I can't hold her in my arms, and there isn't anyone who remembers her as I do."
Jackie laughed, a low, bitter, dry thing. "I think you and I - I understand you now. This must be what you feel like, all those thousand years you've lived. There must be hundreds of people you've met and loved, and you're the only one left who remembers them. You and I, Doctor - it's not just Rose who binds us."
"No,” replied the Doctor, his voice low, and he looked at Carissa, whose steady gaze remained focused on him. “It never really was."
He offered Jackie his hand, and she took it, stepping easily from the grey path to his bright blue gravel. The air shimmered around them; she seemed to spring into color, the grey washing her hair to blonde, the dark circles under her eyes fading to pink. Her hand was warm in his, another memory below the surface threatening to rise.
A straight line may be the shortest distance between two points,
but it is by no means the most interesting.
Carissa smiled then, and reached to cup his cheek in her hand. The movement warmed him and seemed familiar, though her face was not the one he expected to see. Her hair was dark, and her eyes were light; he had the idea that Rose was the opposite in every way that mattered. Still, Carissa leaned forward and kissed him, gently, letting her lips settle on his for a moment before pulling away.
“I wish I could regret that the other me took the chance, Theta,” she whispered, “but I don’t.”
“Carissa-"
But she pulled away, out of his reach. “Rose,” she reminded him. “Give Rose my love.”
Together, the Doctor and Jackie began walking, and did not look back.
Never mind the citations, jump to Chapter Eleven
*
The Quotes (in order of appearance):
We're nowhere. It's as simple as that. - Second Doctor, “The Mind Robber”
Mmm, what’s that…butterfingers…reversed polarity…hello-o-o…Fantastic! - “Catchphrases” from Doctors One, Two, Three, Four, and Nine (in that order).
I'm suffering from post-regeneration amnesia, as far as I can remember. - Seventh Doctor, “Time and the Rani”
I've stopped the universe. Still, they'll never notice. - Fourth Doctor, “The Armageddon Factor”
That's a bit undramatic, isn't it? "Belgium"? - Fifth Doctor, “Time Crash”
We're falling through space, you and me. Clinging to the skin of this tiny little world, and if we let go… - Ninth Doctor, “Rose”
Planets come and go. Stars perish. Matter disperses, coalesces, forms into other patterns, other worlds. Nothing can be eternal. - Sixth Doctor, “The Mysterious Planet”
Perhaps I should go home. Back to my own planet. But I can't... I can't... - First Doctor, “The Massacre of St Bartholomew's Eve”
Yes, that's right, you're going. You've been gone for ages. You're already gone. You're still here. You've just arrived. I haven't even met you yet. It all depends on who you are and how you look at it. Strange business, time. - Seventh Doctor, “Dragonfire”
Love has never been noted for its rationality. - Seventh Doctor, “Delta and the Bannermen”
A straight line may be the shortest distance between two points, but it is by no means the most interesting. - Third Doctor, “The Time Warrior”
Jump to Chapter Eleven