“No.” His fingers touched the brim. Velvet. Real. A memory surfaced without invitation. A laboratory. UNIT. Jo laughing. The Brigadier looking annoyed. Bessie waiting outside. The Doctor snatched his hand away.
Behind him, someone cleared his throat.
The Doctor turned.
A man stood on the opposite side of the console. White hair, black cloak, imperious expression. The Doctor stared at the old man, and the old man stared back. Neither spoke.
The Doctor swallowed. “No.”
His first incarnation tilted his head. “Is that all you have to say?”
“You’re not real.”
The old Doctor frowned. “My dear fellow, neither are you.”
The Fifth Doctor stepped backwards, and the room disappeared.
White corridor. Empty. No console, no old man, no hat. Nothing.
The Doctor stood completely still. For the first time since the knocking began, he looked frightened.
“No.” He checked again. Internal dimensions are stable. Temporal systems are stable. Memory circuits are stable. No intruders. No external influence. No fault. Everything was perfect.
The Doctor slowly lifted his hands from the console.
Behind him, someone said, “Still trying to get me back to Heathrow?”
He closed his eyes. For a moment he didn’t turn around because he knew the voice. He knew exactly where she would be standing.
Finally, the Doctor looked.
Tegan Jovanka leaned against the railing. Purple uniform, short dark hair, arms folded. Exactly as she had looked when they first met.
The Doctor stared at her. “Tegan.”
She smiled. “Hello, Doctor.”
He approached cautiously. “You’re not here.”
“Obviously, I am.”
“No. You’re not.”
She shrugged. “You always were good at telling people where they weren’t.”
The Doctor studied her face. Every expression and every movement was perfect. “What year is it?”
Tegan rolled her eyes. “Oh, not this again.”
“What year?”
“You tell me. You’re the Time Lord.”
The Doctor reached towards her, but Tegan stepped away. “Don’t.” His hand stopped. Something in her expression hurt him more than he expected.
“Tegan...”
“You don’t get to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend everything’s all right.”
The Doctor frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.”
He turned and ran. The corridors twisted around him, left and right, one junction followed by another. He stopped counting his paces. He wanted the console room. He needed the console room.
“TARDIS!”
A door opened ahead, and he rushed through it. The familiar console room waited beyond. The Doctor almost laughed with relief. He hurried to the console and began checking the instruments.
“Spatial architecture fault. That’s all this is. Internal dimensional collapse, perhaps. Temporal feedback through the architectural configuration system. Nothing we haven’t dealt with before.”
He checked another reading. The instruments told him everything was normal. The Doctor stared at them.
5
6