It's Over

For weeks myself and Donna have been jumping through holes in time and space, looking for that one reality out of millions, trying to find that one needle in that stack of, well, needles.

After being chased through pre-industrial Rome and gaining a spear to my calf, Donna convinced me it was time to call it a day.

"You're only human." She reminded me, and though I feel both hearts beating like they always used to, sometimes I forget that one of them is mechanical. "she'll come back when she's good and ready. Don't rush her."

So I slept ignoring the ache in my leg that let me know infection was creeping in. The mattress was hard and full of springs, the moldy duvet and moth eaten curtains were just a distant memory in a far off world. I slept like I had not slept for days, and somewhere in the dark recesses in my mind, I thought maybe that might be true.

When I awoke, Norway's blue dawn light was shining in through the window and spreading across my floor and over my face. Straight away, I knew something was amiss. Something was not quite as it had been, though certainly how it should be. Something that had been amiss was now not so. The conundrum in my sleep addled mind confused me so, I nearly forgot to open my eyes, and see.

Resting on my shoulder was the slightly tousled blond hair of a well known head, one so known to me it was almost part of me now, and yet had been missing for so long. A quiet sobbing, big wet tears and a fist knotting up the cotton of my white t shirt. Rose. She was back. She had come back, and I hadn't even needed to save her. My clever resourceful Rose. I wrapped her in my embrace, like so many of our early morning cuddles, and hushed her silent tears. For a moment we were not in a cold lodge off the coast of Norway, but at home, as normal as could be.

"He was dying." She whispered to me, and explained how the return of the Time Lords and created a momentary drop in the barriers between worlds. How he had sacrificed himself for Donna's grandfather, and how he had seeked her out for one last confession.

"He did things," she told me, perhaps hoping to find some forgiveness for her actions, "terrible and unforgivable things."

And so it became her confession, how he had changed time for his own benefit, toyed with fixed points that should not be touched, became a God and shaped the universe to please himself, forgetting the very thing that made him himself.

I hurt for him, I honestly did, but I hurt for me too.

"You left me. With a baby. In Norway. On a whim. I thought you were dead. I thought you had left me."

"It had crossed my mind. Shall I remind you that you left me. He would never have done that."

"He leaves everyone behind, that's the very nature of who he is. Do you forget he left you here, with me?"

But I could never be angry. He was her Doctor, and he had been in trouble. He had called to her, and she had gone to him. Simple as that. I could not resent her acts of compassion, when it was compassion alone that allowed her to forgive me my own sins time and time again. So I let it drop with a kiss and a squeeze.

"You didn't stay with him?"

"That's not who I am anymore."

My first smile in an age.

"Time to go home?"

We were going to be very very late for Christmas.

It all started with a song

It seems like such a long time ago, when I, or another I in another body, stood on the bridge at Platform Five, and looked over an Earth that had been totally destroyed by reality TV. It was horrifying to see, something that still gives me nightmares today, to think it was a world I had created. Billions of humans sat in front of their entertainment systems, unable to think for themselves, unable to choose, whilst people died in space in the name of entertainment.

But today I saw something that made me feel better about that horrifying day. Today I stepped into a reality, where the people of Earth had stood up, and said, "NO. No more." and it made me proud.

I was there for merely hours, but I learned this: It had started with one song.

Oh so simple, so trivial, what a thing to get worked up about (though I would believe that a song has more power over a group of people than say the speech of a politician). But it was more than that. It was one small group standing up and offering a choice, an alternative to the status quo, and the rest of the nation standing up and saying "YES, no more shall we be spoon fed like toddlers. We will not roll over and accept what you offer us. We want choice. We want the freedom to choose."

And of course, they won. And that was when they realised they had the power. They realised that when they stood together for a common cause, their voices were heard. They had to be. For no political group could stand against the wrath of the people. The government started working for the nation, instead of for their own agenda's. Britain became powerful again, strong again. And soon this way of thinking was taken to the international level. Why fight amongst ourselves?

Today I hopped to another dimension, hoping to find my home. Instead, I found Utopia.


Take 1

My word, what a huge waste of time! With a baby strapped to my front (Donna refused to stay behind with him and miss the adventure, and I could hardly leave him by himself) and a rucksack full of electrical gizmo's on my back (Donna refused to carry these as they were heavy and I am a big manly man), we stepped into the breach.

Interestingly enough, though perhaps not surprisingly, navigating dimensions with a human made piece of junk that has been modified about a gazillion times by a number of different scientists and a few cowboys, as well as being buried under a tonne of sand, was not an exact science. Or maybe I'm just loosing my mojo, who knows. What I do know, is that though we succeeded in jumping realities, we did not end up in the desired location.

"Donna, welcome to the universe of hats." I introduced, as that was where we were, and the device had burned out. "Enjoy it, we'll be here a while." She actually gigglesnorted with glee, and skipped off like a small child dosed up on sugar.

"This one. No THIS one. I want this one. Doctor can I have this one?"

Two days. Two days we were stuck in that hell hole whilst I tried to fix the dimension cannon and return home. At least Donna got some much needed shopping in, and Sam now owns more baby hats then any other child on Earth.

Mince Pies and Other Things

It was after I had eaten almost an entire batch of Donna's Test Run Christmas Mince Pies, and lay stretched out on the bristly carpet that smelled oddly like old fake cheese, with Sam balanced sleeping soundly on my bloated tummy, that it came to me. There was no real reason why, no explanation, no queue from the passing Donna who rushed around working on Batch Two if her Test Run Pies, or bolt of lightening that struck. It was as if relaxing my body had allowed me to relax my mind and it came so easily that it was laughable.

Rose had once punched through reality with the device. The Doctor, the one who I believed to have taken her, had sealed that hole and left her here with me. It was too dangerous to be leaping from reality to reality. He knew this, and Rose knew this, and yet one of them had taken the risk and did it regardless.

This left me with three possible options.
1. Rose was insane and went after her Doctor.
2. The Doctor was insane, and came back for Rose, caring little for the consequences.
3. I was missing something.

Considering that Rose didn't seem particularly straight jacket material when I saw her last, and that there are very few things that would drive a Time Lord completely batty (though complete isolation could be one of them), I made the assumption that I was dealing with option three.

This leads me to believe that either:
1. The walls between realities are coming down again and so the calculated risk of making it worse compared to the bonus of having Rose on Team Doctor was minimal.


2. Whatever the Doctor faces on the other side, is so utterly and entirely terrible, that crossing a dimension for backup is a necessary evil, and a thoroughly thought out plan.


3. The walls between realities are now stable, and so travel between parallel worlds has become child play once more. There could only be one reason for this, and that is of course impossible.

Whether it be option one, two or three, I care little. I decided right there and then that I needed to be in on the action. And if one dimension jump is insignificant, so must two be.

So I have been dividing my time equally between working on the Dimension Cannon, taste testing for Donna, and being a good dad. Tomorrow I leap.

Santa Clause is coming

Since hearing about the meeting on the beech I have found myself in a bit of a slump. Something is very wrong in the other universe it seems, and Rose has gone, or been taken. Each day I sit here and think the worst, trying to solve the puzzle. Could the Daleks be back? Has the Doctor finally gone insane? Maybe it's something new, something worse? I put the pieces together, but like a house of cards, they all fall down. I didn't have enough information, and what was worse, I felt I was missing something fundamental.

Today was different, Donna bowled in with Sam, wearing tinsel and a reindeer antler hat (Donna not Sam), threw a Santa hat at me and told me to "Cheer up Humbug, don't make me chase you with the mistletoe." Wafting from the other room I could hear the lyrical genius of Bing Crosby and the scent of freshly baking mince pies. I couldn't help feel a little better.

"Don't worry yourself." Donna continued, who for perhaps the first time had found the Christmas spirit (She usually hates Christmas, and I couldn't help but wonder if this was all for my benefit.) "Rose knows how to look after herself. And if it was the Doctor with her, she's in safe hands."

Single Father

Obviously, my initial instinct was to give chase, break all of time and space and try and get Rose back (that is if she hadn't already when crossing over to the otherDoctor). Surely she wouldn't just leave me! She must have been possessed by some evil cloud alien, or abducted or or...

Donna of course wouldn't let me. She slapped me round the back of the head and reminded me that Sam needed feeding. That baby eats a lot, I'm certain he's not entirely human. He also poos a lot. And cries a lot. In fact 92.7% of my day is spent taking care of him, the other small fraction is eaten by the overwhelming need to sleep, which really doesn't leave much time for tracking down the love of my life, challenging my evil counterpart to a duel and taking my woman by force.

And so I just sit here, in a dingy room in International Travel Lodge, staring down at the pudgy face of my baby, who stares back up at me, contemplating my navel (me not him)and waiting for Donna to come back from the beach.

I need to hire a baby sitter. I need to DO something.

Holding the Baby

At first everything was going to plan. We had successfully set up the device on the beech and sent a message. Myself and Donna set up a tent and basic camp site nearby to wait patiently for a return message. During the day Rose waited with us keeping morale high with cuddles and stories. Sometimes she would trudge back and forth to a near by cafe for sustenance and supplies, whilst keeping Sam out of the worst of the bitter coastal wind. All was well.

By night I slept wrapped around, what we had lovingly christianed "the beacon," whilst Donna made herself comfortable in her van. A message could come at any time and it was best to be ready. Rose stayed at a near by Travel Lodge and took care of the baby, insisting that she was too old for camping, and Sam too young.

That is, except for Friday night, when Rose offered me the warm bed in exchange for a night under the stars. There was nothing unusual in this, or the demeanor in which the offer was made. I simply thought Rose was offering me a chance to escape the cold and wet for one night and bond with my son, whilst she took my place. She was capable, I thought, and trustworthy.

It was on the third night, last night, when the offer was made once more, and no argument could sway her stubbornness, that it occurred to me that something might just be wrong. That was the night I secretly swapped places with Donna. That was the night I realised the truth.

No sooner had the van light went out, and I had positioned myself carefully under a blanket, beady eyes spying on the mother of my child, did she emerge. There was a low pitched buzzing, a sparking, and the device in her hand came to life. A flickering blue figured appeared on the beech in front of her. Humanoid, tall, not the Ood who we had been aiming for.

The conversation they had was too quiet to be heard, but the teary expression on her face was obvious to me through the back of the blue transparent head. I held my breath, unable to blink, unable to even think, as I watched this betrayal (was it a betrayal?) play out in front of me. So shocked was I, that I barely noticed when she started typing something into a second device. I didn't even flinch when an ear splitting burst of static filled the air, or respond when she vanished into aforementioned thin air.

The Beacon fell to the floor with a thump, leaving the solitary blue figure casting a glow across the sand. As he turned to type a command into an unseen control panel, thin spindly fingers reaching for buttons not being transmitted, his identity became obviously apparent.

It was me.


Opening up to Rose is easy. This is perhaps something I should have caught on to earlier in our relationship. Though this was not particularly personal or painful story, keeping things close to the chest is habit for me, as I never wish to burden her mind with the intricate problems or doubts I may have. Juggling the baby and her work, life at home and her public persona, I always felt guilty about adding to the pile. Yesterday was different.

She listens well, this is something I remember from the other Doctor, and is never afraid to ask questions or prod delicately at issues that need examining closer. He never took full advantage of her kindness then, and I wondered briefly as I spoke, if he had found someone new to reign him in, or if he was all alone in the universe again.

The story ended with the Ood in the bedroom, and a fully explained explanation as to what I thought was going on.

"And your plan?" She asked once I lapsed into silence, the sound of birds greeting the morning, and Mildred rattling around in the kitchen echoing in my thoughts and around the room.

"I don't plan."

She smirked, "All these years, you really think I believe that still?"

She was right of course, I have always had some semblance of a plan, even if events don't always go as intended. After all, the true art of a good plan is to have enough flexibility to adapt it when things go to hell. However, spontaneity always seems more exciting, and so the hours the other Doctor spent planning trips and adventures was a closely guarded secret, one that I have always maintained.

So I said nothing. Raising the issue of leaving the country, leaving the baby and Rose again to potentially risk my one and only life to contact the real Doctor or the Ood was not something I thought she would want to hear. But it seemed, so much time together, or maybe it was the time we spent apart, had caused us to think in sync.

"This is what I would do." She said, leaning forward and taking my hands in hers. "I would take the rudimentary trans-dimensional machine that UNIT built to find you, adapt it so it could piggy back on the Ood transmission, possibly via the internet as it seems thats where the signal is strongest, go to Norway where the dimensional barrier is thinnest, and try and send a message to the Ood. You never know, you might just get a two way link."

I laughed. Sometimes I forget that Rose spent the few years before me working for UNIT, searching for her Doctor and a way home. She's not the innocent girl a leather clad Doctor with a cheap haircut and attitude problem found in a department store once upon a time. This also happened to be the exact same thing I was thinking.

"You better pack a bag and wake the baby." I said softly, "I'll call Donna."

And that is why we caught the earliest flight to Oslo.

te og samtale

I'm cold, I'm wet, it's hailing, and oh yes, I'm in Norway.

Just to explain what happened.

After my breakfast with Donna, I started thinking. Thoughts come thick and fast once I find a rhythm, and sometimes it's a little overwhelming, as if my tiny brain can't quite hold the magnitude of the universe. Each tiny insignificant idea throws itself at me in a maelstrom of other tiny insignificant ideas, creating an all powerful whole. If I miss one, if I dare discard one, one tiny little thread of logic, and the entire tapestry comes apart in my hands. And so I withdrew to my study, isolating myself with my thoughts, never once pausing until the job was done. I missed lunch, I missed Sesame Street with Sam (not that he's old enough to understand it, but I think that the bright colours stimulate his mind, and I love the character development), I missed messy time, I missed dinner with the family, and most importantly, I missed snuggle time with Rose.

At 3.30am there was a tentative knock on the door. It was Rose, bundled up in her woolly sweater and jogging trousers, hair tousled and makeup removed; she was the very embodiment of beautiful. I told her this, and she smiled, passing me one of two steaming mugs of tea.

"Just what the doctor ordered."

We sat opposite each other in silence for the longest time sipping at the warm bitterness in our cups, her socked foot pressing gently against my bare one. Eventually, once every drop of tea was gone, and the sun had started to peak over the trees, casting a pink gloominess into the room, she spoke.

"So what's up?" She whispered.

And I told her everything.

Making Connections

"OF COUSRE." I yelled as Donna retold her story to me, this morning over breakfast. Then I paused, "I mean, what?"

It was all too confusing, Ood can't 'fade in' nor can they 'teleport' not without some sort of technological device and they certainly shouldn't be that far advanced. Even then they shouldn't 'fade' into reality, it would more a 'thump,' a 'bash,' a 'flail.'

"Could it have been a premonition?"

Donna stared at me blankly.

"A foreboding, a vision, a..."

"I know what a bloody premonition is you dumb bell. I'm not Mystic bloody Meg."

But a plan was forming in my mind.

"Are you sure he was there at all?"

"YES... No... Well how else could he have been there? It's not like I have 3D TV or anything...But then, things that are really there, don't tend to... fade away."

"EXACTLY!" I jumped up from seat and started to pace. "What if he wasn't there at all? What if he was never here? What if all we have seen of this Ood was a projection, like astral projection, only with some real telepathic umph behind it."

"Words are coming out of your mouth but they make no sense."

"Listen." I stood in front of her rocking chair, nose to nose as she rocked back and forth and drank her tea. "Ood are telepathic right? And when they are in their circle, their mind power can reach out across worlds. What if they were reaching out to use right now? What if, they had somehow learned how to breach the void with their mind. What if they are warning me about the Tardis and the Doctor from back in their world?"

"Then how are they surfing the net? Has AOL gone intergalactic?"

"Of course not. Not for a few more centuries. Reality is a difficult thing to breach. They wouldn't be able to hold the connection for very long. A flash in your bedroom, or at the shops. But Cyberspace, that's child's play."

"But why me? Why not you? They always seem to come after me..."

"They probably are trying to contact me, through my dreams. My own slight telepathic ability left over from my Time Lord DNA has caught some of their radio waves. But pinpointing one person from that distance would be terribly difficult. But you..."

I pulled her out of the chair and started dancing her around the room. She tried to fight me off, but the smile on her face gave away her hidden pleasure.

"You Donna Noble, are special. A convergence point, remember?"


"So, you're the one who can help me send a message home."

That's when Rose came in, and I had to put Donna down and do some housework.