Ivory Maiden 7
Title: The Ivory Maiden
Part: 7/7
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5382
Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
One last resounding thanks to vampydirector. I never could have gotten through this without you!
After a long moment of tense silence, Oliver gave a loud gasp, staggering and putting his hands to his head. At the same time, the crowd of people in the museum let out a collective sigh and all took a step forward, as though catching their balance. Then the room erupted with sound as all the men began to look around, crying out to one another in excitement and fright. Those who had been gazing at the statue turned away with startled gasps, putting up their hands to shield their eyes from it.
The Doctor smiled, his eyes twinkling, as he watched everyone in the room recovering. And even in such a busy room, one voice stood out to him from the rest of the crowd.
“Tirik?”
“Father!”
The Doctor let go of Tirik as a man with pale blue hair stepped away from the others, opening his arms for an overjoyed boy to run into them. When Tirik practically dove into his grasp, the man pulled him into a tight hug, ruffling his hair as he did so. “It’s so good to see you, Tirik,” he whispered.
“You too!” the boy declared, grinning happily through tears that were now flowing freely down his cheeks.
His father pulled back, looking him in the eyes. “And I’m so proud of you, my son.”
Tirik’s eyes widened in shock, but then he beamed at his father. The man smiled back, reaching up to wipe at the tears on the boy’s face before ruffling his hair again. As the Doctor watched, tears began to roll down the man’s cheeks, too, and both father and son laughed, needing no more words between them.
Knowing that Tirik was in good hands now, the Doctor shifted his attention to another important person in the room. Oliver was right where he had left him. In fact, he found that, throughout all of this, Oliver had only moved to lower his hands to his sides. The young man was now straightening, focusing a blank gaze on the statue.
The Doctor stepped over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Do you see?” he asked urgently, speaking directly into Oliver’s ear. “What does Oliver see? Or feel? Do you understand now? You’ve been hurting these people. You didn’t know what you were doing before, but you do now. Don’t continue. There’s another choice--take it.”
“I won’t take them back again, Doctor,” Oliver replied, his words soft but as smooth and flat as stone. Though the voice was Oliver’s, there was not even the barest hint of feeling or life in the words. “But if I could keep this one, there would be no need. There’s so much inside of him--so many places and things and experiences and feelings, and he so wants to help these people--and me.”
The Doctor’s eyes widened, and he seized Oliver by both arms now, looking directly into his friend’s eyes. “No! That’s not the solution. Oliver, do you hear me in there? Are you telling her you’d sacrifice yourself for these people? Because if you are, don’t!”
“But he would,” Oliver said. His eyes were blank, and he was still speaking in that tone that wasn’t his, but it sounded confused now. “If I would let them all go and keep only him, he would be happy for it.”
The Doctor’s eyes boggled, and his expression hardened. “No. No, he wouldn’t--no matter what he might think when you ask him like that!”
“Why not?”
“Why not!?” The Doctor sputtered. “I know you’ve only just begun to see true human interactions, but you can see into Oliver’s mind. Look at what human life means! As long as you have a hold on him, Oliver can’t live.”
Oliver--and the entity--were quiet for a moment after that, the young man’s eyes still vacant. The Doctor waited, making an imposing figure as he stood before his friend, his stormy gaze locked onto his. But the Doctor’s attention was soon caught by shouting from the men. He turned just in time to see several figures running out of the room as some of the newly-rescued Filiorans began to point and jeer at them.
“Pafos, don’t think you can run away from this!” the Doctor cried angrily after the group of women, his voice carrying above those of the others and startling several of them into silence. However, before he could say anything more, the entity began to speak again, and he focused back in on his friend.
“We will relive his experiences together.” The Doctor’s heart sank at those words, spoken in that voice that was Oliver’s but filled with too much disturbing calmness to truly be his. “He will not be hurt, and he will still experience life,” the entity continued. “An inner life, rather than the outside one that he had before. He would accept this sacrifice.”
The Doctor’s eyes widened. “He will not!” he boomed furiously.
“He would,” the entity replied, confused by his protest.
The Doctor’s nostrils flared, and he clenched his fists in frustration. “You don’t understand, do you?” he demanded, his eyes boring into Oliver’s. “No, of course not. You’re a gestalt entity! You’re just trying to solve your loneliness. But that’s not what you really want, is it?”
“We cannot be alone,” the entity insisted through Oliver’s lips.
“No, and you wouldn’t be--not if you could get back to the rest of yourself.” The Doctor gestured toward the sky. “That’s the ideal solution, isn’t it? Yes, I thought so,” he continued without waiting for a response. “But as it stands now, you’ll take any company you can get. You can tell that Oliver wants to help you, so you’ll take his company--force him to be company for you if you have to. But you don’t understand!”
The entity didn’t respond at first. The Doctor glared at it, waiting.
“You have not explained,” it said at last. “We are not forcing. He wants to help us.”
“Yes, yes, I know!” The Doctor waved a hand, sighing loudly. “Of course that’s true, but what he wants--what he really wants, for himself--is the same thing as you do. Can’t you see that inside him!?” He leaned toward Oliver until his face was mere inches from the younger man’s. “He doesn’t want to be alone. Except, for humans--just like Filiorans--it’s a bit different. They’re not a single entity. No, no, they need other humans--or other Filiorans--for their lives to be complete.”
Oliver gazed at him curiously, not even flinching at his proximity to the Doctor’s anger. “He has us.”
“That’s not the same!” the Doctor cried in frustration. He sighed, silent for a moment as Oliver watched him with dead eyes. An idea seemed to occur to him, however, and his expression brightened. He took a step back. “That’s it!” he cried. “Oliver! Think of Chloe Elliot.”
Oliver did not move, but for just an instant as the Doctor said the name, a spark of emotion crossed his eyes.
“Hah!” the Doctor declared triumphantly. “Do you see now? Do you see what you’re doing to him?”
Oliver’s expression twisted, worried now. “We do not understand. What do these feelings mean?” the entity asked.
“Humans,” the Doctor began, grinning, “are not gestalt entities. But even so, different ones are part of the same whole--and Oliver has left his perfect match a long, long way from here. Her name is Chloe Elliot, and he wants nothing more than to get back to her.” His smile grew a little sad as he noticed another flash of emotion cross Oliver’s eyes. “Do you understand now?” he pressed. “If you don’t let him go, you’ll be keeping him from her--forever. Would you do that? Is that how you repay someone just because you can tell they want to help you?”
The entity’s expression shifted to dismay for a moment--then desperation. “You could return him to her. She could join us,” it offered.
The Doctor’s eyes flared with anger again. “You’re not listening!” he boomed. “Being held in your mind is not life. Look at his memories of her! What do you see? What does he feel? Ask him if he wants to give her up forever. Or if he’d want to give her to you! Go on!”
“He wants to help,” the entity replied, but for the first time, there was tightness and hesitation in its words.
“At the cost of Chloe Elliot?” the Doctor pressed. “Of life with Chloe Elliot--real life?”
Oliver took a step back, away from the Doctor. “No.”
The Doctor stepped forward, staying close. “Then there’s your answer!”
“But we cannot be alone,” the entity argued, making another attempt to back away.
“You don’t have to be!” the Doctor cried, exasperated. “Just ask me!” His eyes softened, a grin creeping across his face. “I told you there was another choice.”
The entity frowned at him, still not understanding. After a moment’s struggle to make sense of the Doctor’s declaration, it asked, “What other choice? Who will you give us that will be any different?”
The Doctor moved into Oliver’s face again. Now his expression was deathly cold. “I won’t give you anyone,” he said, softly but harshly. “But,” he added, pulling back a bit, his grin returning as quickly as it had disappeared. “I can give you back to yourself.”
Oliver stared at the Doctor. “How?” the entity asked softly, disbelieving.
“You have to release him.”
“If I release him, we will no longer be able to communicate.”
The Doctor made a face. “Yes, well. I suppose you’re right But I’m sure Oliver won’t mind if it’s just a bit longer before you release him--especially knowing that you’re going to.”
The entity was quiet again for a moment. “We would trade him for ourselves,” it finally agreed.
The Doctor grinned. “Wonderful! Come along then, Oliver. We need to get some help moving two rather large pieces of sculpture back to the TARDIS.” As he motioned for Oliver to follow him toward the statue, the young man began to stiffly move forward.
As the Doctor threw a surprised and slightly disapproving glance at Oliver, Tirik’s father came up behind them, approaching a bit uncertainly. He had his son’s hand in his. “You’re going to get rid of it?” he asked. He didn’t meet the Doctor’s eyes, carefully keeping his gaze averted from the statue.
The Doctor turned with a grin. “Well, hello! You’re looking much better. Yes, we are, with a bit of--hm.” He frowned as he saw the problem. “One moment.” Withdrawing a container from his pocket, he reached out and spread a blob of gloopy, gelatin-like material under the man’s nose. “There we are. Now, who do you think we could get to help us move these statues?”
“Anyone,” the man said with feeling, daring to look up at the Doctor now. “You’ve saved us all!”
“I have?” The Doctor blinked, his eyes wide. “I have, haven’t I? Well, all in a day’s work, right, Oliver?”
The young man glanced at him in confusion, and the Doctor sighed. He leaned down to the level of Tirik’s father, putting a hand by his face as though he meant to whisper but speaking in as booming of a tone as ever. “He would be pointing out his role in all this if he could at the moment. I always have to make sure it doesn’t go to his head. Perhaps this is for the best. But I don’t usually do things quite single-handedly, I must admit.” He gave Tirik a wink.
The boy grinned at him, but then his expression grew more serious. “Your friend will be okay, won’t he?”
“Hm? Oliver? Oh yes. He’s very resilient, Oliver. And as long as he’s helping someone, I’m sure he won’t mind that it borrowed him for a bit.”
“But he’ll be himself again?” Tirik pressed. “Like my father?”
The Doctor grinned. “Very soon. Now, you’d better let us get to work. We need to pack up this statue for a very long trip.”
“Trip?” the boy asked. “Where are you taking it?”
The Doctor’s smile was warm. “Home, of course.”
***
The Doctor was silent as he strode into the ransacked house, a mute Oliver following closely behind him. Though he knew that all the stone would be in Pafos’ workshop, he had a different destination in mind to start with. Last time, as they had crossed the house on their way to the workshop, the entrance to some sort of side room had been just barely visible off to one side of the open kitchen. Now, the Doctor went straight for that nook. As he approached it, he could see pure white tile through its doorway, indicating a room likely meant for laundry and cleaning supplies.
The Doctor moved inside the room, motioning for Oliver to follow him. Once they had both entered, he put a finger to his lips before moving past the door and pushing it partway shut. The move revealed a woman, crouched behind the door with her knees held tightly against her chest, dirty hair streaking across her face in much the same manner as the bruises and dirt visible underneath the strands. She looked nothing like the cool, collected, carefully beautiful woman that they had spoken to the last time they’d come to this house. Now, despite her attempts to hide herself, a close look revealed that her makeup was smeared with dirt and tears and her white clothing was stained and torn. Her hair had mostly come loose from her braid, allowing it to fall into her face. Her hands, arms, and legs were all scratched, and her feet were bruised and now bare. The Doctor reached out a hand to help her sit up straight.
“Come to gloat?” the woman spat as she uncurled herself, batting his hand away and still managing to look defiant despite her pathetic state.
“No.”
“Then get out!” She sneered.
The Doctor shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. It’s as much time for you to go home as it is your alien friend.”
At those words, Pafos’ expression twisted with rage and suppressed emotion. “I don’t have a home anymore. You should know that!”
“Oh no, you do,” the Doctor replied easily. “You just didn’t like who you were there.”
Her eyes widened at that, her anger giving way to confusion for just a moment. “How do you know that?” she demanded. Her eyes narrowed. “You aren’t just the authorities, are you? Who are you really?”
The Doctor gave her a smile. “No, I’m not the authorities at all. I’m just another traveler. But I’ve met people like you before--many times.” A hint of sadness touched his eyes. “Come with me. There are better ways to deal with loneliness.”
The woman curled herself tighter into the corner. “No! If the authorities do find out about this, I’ll be imprisoned!”
The Doctor nodded. “But isn’t that better than what the Filiorans will do to you if you stay here? I certainly think so. Now come along.” More softly, he added, “I won’t ask you again.”
The woman glared at the Doctor a bit longer, and he easily met her gaze. Finally, reluctantly, she untangled herself, standing very slowly and with clear pain. “If you aren’t the authorities, you don’t know where I’m from,” she protested softly, sounding more like a petulant child than the powerful leader she had been only hours ago.
“Oh, I think I may have worked it out,” the Doctor replied, the twinkle returning to his eyes. “But first, you’re going to help us move a bust back to my TARDIS.”
“I could shatter it.”
The Doctor’s eyes flared, and in one smooth movement, he removed the scarf from around his neck and pinned the woman’s arms behind her back. He swiftly began to restrain them with the material. “I told you I wouldn’t ask you again,” he said. His anger was already hidden, his tone almost amiable. “But if you won’t help, then it’s time to go home--to the real authorities.”
The lady Pafos began to scream then, angry and hateful and defiant to the end. The Doctor ignored her, even as she continued to do so the whole way back through the house. As the Doctor and Oliver led her outside, however, the sound finally died in her throat.
“Hello there,” the Doctor greeted, giving a wave at the gathering crowd of suspicious women lining the street before them.
“I did it all for you,” the lady whispered as tears began to slide down her face.
The hatred in the women’s eyes was all the answer she needed. They began to jeer at her, and Pafos ducked her head in shame. The Doctor hurried her down the street, keeping himself and Oliver around her to discourage any thoughtless responses to her presence.
And for the first time, it was the lady Pafos who walked silently down the street, careful not to meet anyone else’s gaze.
***
“There we are, all the Lapidi stone safely stored away for its trip home,” the Doctor said with a smile as he emerged from the TARDIS.
A group of Filioran men followed behind him, blobs of gelatin still glistening under their noses. Two reached up to rub it away, but the others didn’t seem quite so ready to feel safe.
“I won’t ask how that shed can be so large,” Tirik’s father, Kiziv, said, his eyes still wide with awe. “You are something I don’t think we could understand, Doctor. But what will happen to us now?”
“Oh, I rather think that’s up to you,” the Doctor replied, giving the men a smile that belied the sternness in his eyes. “You’re free now. You can do whatever you wish.”
“With limitations.”
“Hm?” the Doctor asked, raising an eyebrow as though he weren’t sure he’d heard the man properly.
“Don’t play us for fools, Doctor.” Kiziv’s gaze was every bit as serious as the Doctor’s own. “You saw what happened with the women, and you heard what the goddess--what Pafos--said. We have abused our power over the women. Haven’t we?”
The Doctor just looked back at him. “Think about what you know, Kiziv. Do you think that’s what you’ve done? Or even if ‘power over the women’ is what you should have?”
The man frowned, his expression stormy. “I know very little about them, or how they live. But maybe that is the proof of our mistakes. They come for the festival, and that is all we think of them. But the gifts they bring, the work they do with the children--they must think of us often. And I have seen signs of care on their bodies. They work hard. But we do as well, don’t we? Is it really so different?”
“Well,” the Doctor said, his eyes beginning to twinkle. “You could always find out for yourself.”
“But that is-”
“Freedom, Kiziv,” the Doctor interrupted with his booming voice. “The ability to do whatever you wish. It might just be more of an opportunity than you’re giving it credit for.”
“Yes...perhaps...” Kiziv turned his attention to his son. A warm smile touched his lips, and he reached down to ruffle his hair.
Tirik made a face at him. “Father!”
Kiziv laughed. “He has his mother’s eyes,” he remarked to the Doctor. “I think...I would like to see that woman again. She was kind and gentle.”
“Then what’s to stop you?” the Doctor asked through a toothy grin.
“What are you proposing?” came a voice from behind them--flat and smooth, Oliver’s but not. “We do not understand, but this Oliver is glad for it. What do these changes mean?”
“Hopefully, they mean avoiding any further nonsense like this,” the Doctor remarked. “And Oliver knows what he’s talking--er, thinking about. He saw Sorodum with me, not to mention enough other divided societies to know that it never works for everyone’s benefit. But I think the people of Filioris have their own lessons to learn, now.” He gave Tirik and his father a quick look, his eyes sharp but his expression smiling, before turning to Oliver. “It’s about time we kept our bargain, don’t you think?”
“Are you leaving now?” Tirik asked, looking up at the Doctor earnestly. “Will you come back? Maybe for the festival?”
The Doctor made a face. “Ah yes, well, I think that’s probably not the best plan. And...” He leaned closer to the boy before whispering in a still-booming voice, “I wouldn’t want to give Oliver here any ideas.” He straightened, smiling pleasantly. “Come along, Oliver. It’s time to finish your errand.”
Oliver obediently began to walk toward the Doctor, but Tirik cried out in dismay.
“Wait! When will you come back?”
The Doctor paused, turning back to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Oliver and I fix things around the universe, Tirik. And I think your father and the people here have gotten enough help already. It’s up to them to take it from here, whatever they choose to do.”
“We’ll do this right,” Kiziv assured him, putting an arm around his son’s shoulders. “Thank you, Doctor. And thanks to your friend.”
“Yes, well, all in a day’s work.” He adjusted his hat, smiling, before he turned and started back toward the TARDIS, Oliver following silently behind.
“Good-bye, Doctor!” Tirik called after him. “Be careful! And don’t forget to keep jelly babies with you!”
The Doctor gave a booming laugh, turning back to the boy. “I wouldn’t dream of it!” Then he disappeared inside the door, Oliver entering closely after him. As soon as the door had closed, a vworping noise filled the street. Both Tirik’s and his father’s jaws dropped as they watched the Doctor’s amazing shed fade out of existence.
“Well,” Kiziv said after a long moment of staring. “We have work to start on. Are you ready to help?”
Tirik looked up at his father in surprise before breaking out in a wide grin. “Yes!”
***
“I’ve kept my part of the bargain,” the Doctor boomed as he and Oliver set the statue down on the rock outcropping in front of the TARDIS, near the other gathered pieces of stone. “It’s time for you to keep yours.”
“Yes,” the entity agreed, to the Doctor’s relief. “It is time for us to return home.”
“Without him,” the Doctor prompted.
“Yes,” the entity repeated. However, Oliver’s expression did not change, and he continued to stand immobile next to the statue.
The Doctor found himself beginning to impatiently tap his foot. “Lapidi-”
“We know,” the entity interrupted. “We would like...” It paused, frowning as it struggled for words. “We are trying to understand human experience. We think we would like--that this one would like--to say good-bye.”
The Doctor’s eyes flared with anger. “He’s not leaving!” he thundered.
The entity flinched, taking a step back. “No, but we are leaving. He would like to say good-bye to us. We...perhaps...we would like to say good-bye to you?” It was far more of a question than a statement, but that might have had more to do with the unnerving glare that the Doctor was currently directing at it than anything else.
The Doctor relaxed visibly at that, however. “Ah yes, I suppose I can understand,” he said with a nod. “Good-bye, then. And see that you don’t allow another disaster to separate you from yourself. I can understand the need to flee from acid rains once, but it had best not happen again on your new planet, or your leaders and I may need to have words.”
The entity was confused. “We did not cause the disaster.”
The Doctor sighed. “No, no, it was your nosy neighbors, wasn’t it? Isn’t that always the way! But a better understanding of different lifeforms could have prevented that misunderstanding. Do you see that now?”
The entity was silent for a moment, gazing at the Doctor through Oliver with troubled eyes. Finally, it softly agreed. “Yes. We see that.”
“Then share the knowledge!” the man declared. “You’d be surprised how much a bit of knowledge can do to maintain peace.”
“We will,” the entity promised. “Good-bye, Doctor. And good-bye to this one, this Oliver.” It paused, as if ready to stop there but reconsidering at the last moment. “Thank you,” it added.
The Doctor grinned. “It’s always a pleasure to get to know a new race. Well, almost always. And in this case, yes, I think it has been. Now then, on your way.”
Oliver gave a solemn nod, and then he abruptly staggered, nearly losing his balance. The Doctor took a quick step forward, grabbing him by the shoulders to steady him as Oliver put a hand to his head.
“That...was weird,” the young man murmured blearily.
“As astute an observation as ever, Oliver,” the Doctor remarked, helping his companion to get his footing before carefully letting go of him.
“Yeah, I’d like to hear how...astute...you sound when you’ve just spent a few...hours?...having your head scrambled by an alien that communicates through psychic waves,” Oliver mumbled.
“Yes, well, I think we’ve had enough of that for one day. Don’t you?”
Oliver just looked at him incredulously.
The Doctor smiled cheerfully. “I thought as much. Come along, then. Back to the TARDIS.” The Doctor put a hand on Oliver’s arm, helping to keep him steady as they both made their way back across the outcropping and into the waiting blue box.
Once they were safely inside, the Doctor went straight for the controls, setting for them to take off into the vortex.
Oliver hovered closely behind him, his expression troubled. He put one hand on the console to keep himself standing through the remaining vestiges of dizziness after his possession. “Doctor?” he asked.
The man didn’t look up. “Hm?”
Oliver scratched his head sheepishly with his free hand. “I still don’t get what happened,” he admitted.
The Doctor turned halfway round, raising an eyebrow at him. His expression was incredulous. “You had the alien consciousness in your mind, and you don’t understand what it was doing?”
Oliver made a face. “Not that! I got that. I mean, what I don’t get is why all the people connected to the statue listened to you just like they listened to it.”
The Doctor just looked at him for a moment, as if asking how he could possibly have failed to work the answer out on his own. “Because I was immune to its control, of course,” he said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Oliver blinked at him. “And that made them listen to you because...?” he pressed.
The Doctor gave a long-suffering sigh. “Because Pafos meant for the statue to make men follow orders, but rather than organizing the much more complicated scenario of gender-based obedience, they simply listened to anyone who was unaffected by the psychic energy. Which, unexpectedly for Pafos, included Time Lords. Got it?”
“Oh.” Oliver considered that. “Yeah.”
“And don’t think I don’t have a question or two for you about what happened, Oliver Day,” the Doctor added.
Oliver blanched at the Doctor’s tone. “Like what?”
“Oh, like wondering what could have made you think that making a peace sign with one hand was a less-than-obvious way to communicate to me that you were only pretending to be under the statue’s control,” he replied casually.
Oliver couldn’t help a faint smile at that, but the Doctor’s expression immediately darkened.
“And, more importantly,” he added. “To ask where, in that tiny mind of yours, it could ever possibly sound like a good idea to make it clear to an alien entity with no understanding of biological interaction that you would be willing to give anything--even your very existence--for the sake of its whims.”
Oliver swallowed hard, shrinking back a step under the Doctor’s gaze. “I never said that!” he protested. “It was just...reading my mind, and I told it I wanted to help it, and then it flashed through a whole bunch of my memories and starting saying all that! I didn’t say any of it!”
The Doctor gave him a flat look.
“And you can’t tell me you wouldn’t’ve done the same!” Oliver added.
“That’s beside the point!” the Doctor boomed.
Oliver pouted. “You’re not the only one around here who wants to save the universe.”
The Doctor just sighed at that, stepping away to hang up his hat. When he moved back toward the console, his expression was unreadable. “One of these days, Oliver Day, you will learn to appreciate the value of your own life.”
“I do!” Oliver argued.
The Doctor said nothing, his expression stormy.
Oliver made a face, trying to come up with a way to break the tension. “Doctor,” he said after a moment. “Do you think the Filiorans are gonna be okay?”
The Doctor pursed his lips thoughtfully at that. “They have a lot of changes to make,” he said. “Change is never easy. But if there are more men like Tirik and his father, then yes, I think they will be.”
Oliver nodded, smiling faintly at that assessment. “Yeah, but...” He frowned. “What about those other men? We never really got to know them. Or the women. I hope they can work together.”
“Yes, well, you’d be surprised what men and women can do together, Oliver,” the Doctor replied absently as he fiddled with the controls. “Especially when they’ve been kept apart for too long.”
Oliver smiled a little wistfully. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll find out,” he said, smirking faintly.
The Doctor quirked an eyebrow at him, then made a face, and then decided to change the subject. “We also have the benefit of being able to watch the news headlines,” he added. “Or, if you’re really concerned, we could always pop back there in thirty years or so.”
“Whoa!” Oliver laughed. “No, I think I’ve had enough of Filioris for today, thanks. I don’t really want to meet Tirik as a kid and then when he’s older than me within a few hours.”
“If you say so.” The Doctor turned his attention back to the controls.
Oliver rolled his eyes, watching for a moment before he couldn’t resist asking another question. “Hey, what happened to that Pafos, anyway?”
The Doctor’s cloudy expression immediately returned. “I took her home.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow, not sure what to make of that. “And where’s that?”
“Oliver!” The Doctor looked up at his companion in dismay. “Didn’t you see the connections? Her attitude, her aspirations? The style of dress and architecture that she brought to Filioris?”
“‘Course I did!” Oliver protested defensively, putting his hands up in front of him as if to ward off an attack. “But she’d traveled there from another world! She couldn’t possibly have been from Ancient Greece or Rome on Earth.” He paused at the look on the Doctor’s face. “Could she?”
The Doctor shook his head. “No, they were much too primitive. But if a sect of Greeks from during the Roman Empire was accidentally transported to another planet and began a colony-”
“Whoa, stop right there!” Oliver cried. “You mean a bunch of Ancient Greeks got stranded in space?”
“Not ‘a bunch.’ But yes, basically, that is what I mean.”
Oliver burst out laughing. “Now there’s a story Ovid would’ve loved! Metamorphosis of the whole planet!”
The Doctor looked scandalized. “Nothing happened to Earth! I made sure of that.”
Oliver chuckled. “Yeah, but I mean, a new planet would’ve seemed like...oh, nevermind!” He shook his head with a smile. “Let’s just get going to our next destination.” He gestured at one of the switches in front of the Doctor.
The man raised an eyebrow, flicking it. The central column came to life. “Good on you, Oliver. It seems you are learning.”
“All part of being human!” Oliver declared with a grin. “And before you say it, I know, Time Lords are infinitely cleverer than we are. But we’re not so bad in the end, are we?”
“Not at times,” the Doctor conceded with a twinkle in his eye. “Not at times.”
Part: 7/7
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5382
Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
One last resounding thanks to vampydirector. I never could have gotten through this without you!
After a long moment of tense silence, Oliver gave a loud gasp, staggering and putting his hands to his head. At the same time, the crowd of people in the museum let out a collective sigh and all took a step forward, as though catching their balance. Then the room erupted with sound as all the men began to look around, crying out to one another in excitement and fright. Those who had been gazing at the statue turned away with startled gasps, putting up their hands to shield their eyes from it.
The Doctor smiled, his eyes twinkling, as he watched everyone in the room recovering. And even in such a busy room, one voice stood out to him from the rest of the crowd.
“Tirik?”
“Father!”
The Doctor let go of Tirik as a man with pale blue hair stepped away from the others, opening his arms for an overjoyed boy to run into them. When Tirik practically dove into his grasp, the man pulled him into a tight hug, ruffling his hair as he did so. “It’s so good to see you, Tirik,” he whispered.
“You too!” the boy declared, grinning happily through tears that were now flowing freely down his cheeks.
His father pulled back, looking him in the eyes. “And I’m so proud of you, my son.”
Tirik’s eyes widened in shock, but then he beamed at his father. The man smiled back, reaching up to wipe at the tears on the boy’s face before ruffling his hair again. As the Doctor watched, tears began to roll down the man’s cheeks, too, and both father and son laughed, needing no more words between them.
Knowing that Tirik was in good hands now, the Doctor shifted his attention to another important person in the room. Oliver was right where he had left him. In fact, he found that, throughout all of this, Oliver had only moved to lower his hands to his sides. The young man was now straightening, focusing a blank gaze on the statue.
The Doctor stepped over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Do you see?” he asked urgently, speaking directly into Oliver’s ear. “What does Oliver see? Or feel? Do you understand now? You’ve been hurting these people. You didn’t know what you were doing before, but you do now. Don’t continue. There’s another choice--take it.”
“I won’t take them back again, Doctor,” Oliver replied, his words soft but as smooth and flat as stone. Though the voice was Oliver’s, there was not even the barest hint of feeling or life in the words. “But if I could keep this one, there would be no need. There’s so much inside of him--so many places and things and experiences and feelings, and he so wants to help these people--and me.”
The Doctor’s eyes widened, and he seized Oliver by both arms now, looking directly into his friend’s eyes. “No! That’s not the solution. Oliver, do you hear me in there? Are you telling her you’d sacrifice yourself for these people? Because if you are, don’t!”
“But he would,” Oliver said. His eyes were blank, and he was still speaking in that tone that wasn’t his, but it sounded confused now. “If I would let them all go and keep only him, he would be happy for it.”
The Doctor’s eyes boggled, and his expression hardened. “No. No, he wouldn’t--no matter what he might think when you ask him like that!”
“Why not?”
“Why not!?” The Doctor sputtered. “I know you’ve only just begun to see true human interactions, but you can see into Oliver’s mind. Look at what human life means! As long as you have a hold on him, Oliver can’t live.”
Oliver--and the entity--were quiet for a moment after that, the young man’s eyes still vacant. The Doctor waited, making an imposing figure as he stood before his friend, his stormy gaze locked onto his. But the Doctor’s attention was soon caught by shouting from the men. He turned just in time to see several figures running out of the room as some of the newly-rescued Filiorans began to point and jeer at them.
“Pafos, don’t think you can run away from this!” the Doctor cried angrily after the group of women, his voice carrying above those of the others and startling several of them into silence. However, before he could say anything more, the entity began to speak again, and he focused back in on his friend.
“We will relive his experiences together.” The Doctor’s heart sank at those words, spoken in that voice that was Oliver’s but filled with too much disturbing calmness to truly be his. “He will not be hurt, and he will still experience life,” the entity continued. “An inner life, rather than the outside one that he had before. He would accept this sacrifice.”
The Doctor’s eyes widened. “He will not!” he boomed furiously.
“He would,” the entity replied, confused by his protest.
The Doctor’s nostrils flared, and he clenched his fists in frustration. “You don’t understand, do you?” he demanded, his eyes boring into Oliver’s. “No, of course not. You’re a gestalt entity! You’re just trying to solve your loneliness. But that’s not what you really want, is it?”
“We cannot be alone,” the entity insisted through Oliver’s lips.
“No, and you wouldn’t be--not if you could get back to the rest of yourself.” The Doctor gestured toward the sky. “That’s the ideal solution, isn’t it? Yes, I thought so,” he continued without waiting for a response. “But as it stands now, you’ll take any company you can get. You can tell that Oliver wants to help you, so you’ll take his company--force him to be company for you if you have to. But you don’t understand!”
The entity didn’t respond at first. The Doctor glared at it, waiting.
“You have not explained,” it said at last. “We are not forcing. He wants to help us.”
“Yes, yes, I know!” The Doctor waved a hand, sighing loudly. “Of course that’s true, but what he wants--what he really wants, for himself--is the same thing as you do. Can’t you see that inside him!?” He leaned toward Oliver until his face was mere inches from the younger man’s. “He doesn’t want to be alone. Except, for humans--just like Filiorans--it’s a bit different. They’re not a single entity. No, no, they need other humans--or other Filiorans--for their lives to be complete.”
Oliver gazed at him curiously, not even flinching at his proximity to the Doctor’s anger. “He has us.”
“That’s not the same!” the Doctor cried in frustration. He sighed, silent for a moment as Oliver watched him with dead eyes. An idea seemed to occur to him, however, and his expression brightened. He took a step back. “That’s it!” he cried. “Oliver! Think of Chloe Elliot.”
Oliver did not move, but for just an instant as the Doctor said the name, a spark of emotion crossed his eyes.
“Hah!” the Doctor declared triumphantly. “Do you see now? Do you see what you’re doing to him?”
Oliver’s expression twisted, worried now. “We do not understand. What do these feelings mean?” the entity asked.
“Humans,” the Doctor began, grinning, “are not gestalt entities. But even so, different ones are part of the same whole--and Oliver has left his perfect match a long, long way from here. Her name is Chloe Elliot, and he wants nothing more than to get back to her.” His smile grew a little sad as he noticed another flash of emotion cross Oliver’s eyes. “Do you understand now?” he pressed. “If you don’t let him go, you’ll be keeping him from her--forever. Would you do that? Is that how you repay someone just because you can tell they want to help you?”
The entity’s expression shifted to dismay for a moment--then desperation. “You could return him to her. She could join us,” it offered.
The Doctor’s eyes flared with anger again. “You’re not listening!” he boomed. “Being held in your mind is not life. Look at his memories of her! What do you see? What does he feel? Ask him if he wants to give her up forever. Or if he’d want to give her to you! Go on!”
“He wants to help,” the entity replied, but for the first time, there was tightness and hesitation in its words.
“At the cost of Chloe Elliot?” the Doctor pressed. “Of life with Chloe Elliot--real life?”
Oliver took a step back, away from the Doctor. “No.”
The Doctor stepped forward, staying close. “Then there’s your answer!”
“But we cannot be alone,” the entity argued, making another attempt to back away.
“You don’t have to be!” the Doctor cried, exasperated. “Just ask me!” His eyes softened, a grin creeping across his face. “I told you there was another choice.”
The entity frowned at him, still not understanding. After a moment’s struggle to make sense of the Doctor’s declaration, it asked, “What other choice? Who will you give us that will be any different?”
The Doctor moved into Oliver’s face again. Now his expression was deathly cold. “I won’t give you anyone,” he said, softly but harshly. “But,” he added, pulling back a bit, his grin returning as quickly as it had disappeared. “I can give you back to yourself.”
Oliver stared at the Doctor. “How?” the entity asked softly, disbelieving.
“You have to release him.”
“If I release him, we will no longer be able to communicate.”
The Doctor made a face. “Yes, well. I suppose you’re right But I’m sure Oliver won’t mind if it’s just a bit longer before you release him--especially knowing that you’re going to.”
The entity was quiet again for a moment. “We would trade him for ourselves,” it finally agreed.
The Doctor grinned. “Wonderful! Come along then, Oliver. We need to get some help moving two rather large pieces of sculpture back to the TARDIS.” As he motioned for Oliver to follow him toward the statue, the young man began to stiffly move forward.
As the Doctor threw a surprised and slightly disapproving glance at Oliver, Tirik’s father came up behind them, approaching a bit uncertainly. He had his son’s hand in his. “You’re going to get rid of it?” he asked. He didn’t meet the Doctor’s eyes, carefully keeping his gaze averted from the statue.
The Doctor turned with a grin. “Well, hello! You’re looking much better. Yes, we are, with a bit of--hm.” He frowned as he saw the problem. “One moment.” Withdrawing a container from his pocket, he reached out and spread a blob of gloopy, gelatin-like material under the man’s nose. “There we are. Now, who do you think we could get to help us move these statues?”
“Anyone,” the man said with feeling, daring to look up at the Doctor now. “You’ve saved us all!”
“I have?” The Doctor blinked, his eyes wide. “I have, haven’t I? Well, all in a day’s work, right, Oliver?”
The young man glanced at him in confusion, and the Doctor sighed. He leaned down to the level of Tirik’s father, putting a hand by his face as though he meant to whisper but speaking in as booming of a tone as ever. “He would be pointing out his role in all this if he could at the moment. I always have to make sure it doesn’t go to his head. Perhaps this is for the best. But I don’t usually do things quite single-handedly, I must admit.” He gave Tirik a wink.
The boy grinned at him, but then his expression grew more serious. “Your friend will be okay, won’t he?”
“Hm? Oliver? Oh yes. He’s very resilient, Oliver. And as long as he’s helping someone, I’m sure he won’t mind that it borrowed him for a bit.”
“But he’ll be himself again?” Tirik pressed. “Like my father?”
The Doctor grinned. “Very soon. Now, you’d better let us get to work. We need to pack up this statue for a very long trip.”
“Trip?” the boy asked. “Where are you taking it?”
The Doctor’s smile was warm. “Home, of course.”
***
The Doctor was silent as he strode into the ransacked house, a mute Oliver following closely behind him. Though he knew that all the stone would be in Pafos’ workshop, he had a different destination in mind to start with. Last time, as they had crossed the house on their way to the workshop, the entrance to some sort of side room had been just barely visible off to one side of the open kitchen. Now, the Doctor went straight for that nook. As he approached it, he could see pure white tile through its doorway, indicating a room likely meant for laundry and cleaning supplies.
The Doctor moved inside the room, motioning for Oliver to follow him. Once they had both entered, he put a finger to his lips before moving past the door and pushing it partway shut. The move revealed a woman, crouched behind the door with her knees held tightly against her chest, dirty hair streaking across her face in much the same manner as the bruises and dirt visible underneath the strands. She looked nothing like the cool, collected, carefully beautiful woman that they had spoken to the last time they’d come to this house. Now, despite her attempts to hide herself, a close look revealed that her makeup was smeared with dirt and tears and her white clothing was stained and torn. Her hair had mostly come loose from her braid, allowing it to fall into her face. Her hands, arms, and legs were all scratched, and her feet were bruised and now bare. The Doctor reached out a hand to help her sit up straight.
“Come to gloat?” the woman spat as she uncurled herself, batting his hand away and still managing to look defiant despite her pathetic state.
“No.”
“Then get out!” She sneered.
The Doctor shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. It’s as much time for you to go home as it is your alien friend.”
At those words, Pafos’ expression twisted with rage and suppressed emotion. “I don’t have a home anymore. You should know that!”
“Oh no, you do,” the Doctor replied easily. “You just didn’t like who you were there.”
Her eyes widened at that, her anger giving way to confusion for just a moment. “How do you know that?” she demanded. Her eyes narrowed. “You aren’t just the authorities, are you? Who are you really?”
The Doctor gave her a smile. “No, I’m not the authorities at all. I’m just another traveler. But I’ve met people like you before--many times.” A hint of sadness touched his eyes. “Come with me. There are better ways to deal with loneliness.”
The woman curled herself tighter into the corner. “No! If the authorities do find out about this, I’ll be imprisoned!”
The Doctor nodded. “But isn’t that better than what the Filiorans will do to you if you stay here? I certainly think so. Now come along.” More softly, he added, “I won’t ask you again.”
The woman glared at the Doctor a bit longer, and he easily met her gaze. Finally, reluctantly, she untangled herself, standing very slowly and with clear pain. “If you aren’t the authorities, you don’t know where I’m from,” she protested softly, sounding more like a petulant child than the powerful leader she had been only hours ago.
“Oh, I think I may have worked it out,” the Doctor replied, the twinkle returning to his eyes. “But first, you’re going to help us move a bust back to my TARDIS.”
“I could shatter it.”
The Doctor’s eyes flared, and in one smooth movement, he removed the scarf from around his neck and pinned the woman’s arms behind her back. He swiftly began to restrain them with the material. “I told you I wouldn’t ask you again,” he said. His anger was already hidden, his tone almost amiable. “But if you won’t help, then it’s time to go home--to the real authorities.”
The lady Pafos began to scream then, angry and hateful and defiant to the end. The Doctor ignored her, even as she continued to do so the whole way back through the house. As the Doctor and Oliver led her outside, however, the sound finally died in her throat.
“Hello there,” the Doctor greeted, giving a wave at the gathering crowd of suspicious women lining the street before them.
“I did it all for you,” the lady whispered as tears began to slide down her face.
The hatred in the women’s eyes was all the answer she needed. They began to jeer at her, and Pafos ducked her head in shame. The Doctor hurried her down the street, keeping himself and Oliver around her to discourage any thoughtless responses to her presence.
And for the first time, it was the lady Pafos who walked silently down the street, careful not to meet anyone else’s gaze.
***
“There we are, all the Lapidi stone safely stored away for its trip home,” the Doctor said with a smile as he emerged from the TARDIS.
A group of Filioran men followed behind him, blobs of gelatin still glistening under their noses. Two reached up to rub it away, but the others didn’t seem quite so ready to feel safe.
“I won’t ask how that shed can be so large,” Tirik’s father, Kiziv, said, his eyes still wide with awe. “You are something I don’t think we could understand, Doctor. But what will happen to us now?”
“Oh, I rather think that’s up to you,” the Doctor replied, giving the men a smile that belied the sternness in his eyes. “You’re free now. You can do whatever you wish.”
“With limitations.”
“Hm?” the Doctor asked, raising an eyebrow as though he weren’t sure he’d heard the man properly.
“Don’t play us for fools, Doctor.” Kiziv’s gaze was every bit as serious as the Doctor’s own. “You saw what happened with the women, and you heard what the goddess--what Pafos--said. We have abused our power over the women. Haven’t we?”
The Doctor just looked back at him. “Think about what you know, Kiziv. Do you think that’s what you’ve done? Or even if ‘power over the women’ is what you should have?”
The man frowned, his expression stormy. “I know very little about them, or how they live. But maybe that is the proof of our mistakes. They come for the festival, and that is all we think of them. But the gifts they bring, the work they do with the children--they must think of us often. And I have seen signs of care on their bodies. They work hard. But we do as well, don’t we? Is it really so different?”
“Well,” the Doctor said, his eyes beginning to twinkle. “You could always find out for yourself.”
“But that is-”
“Freedom, Kiziv,” the Doctor interrupted with his booming voice. “The ability to do whatever you wish. It might just be more of an opportunity than you’re giving it credit for.”
“Yes...perhaps...” Kiziv turned his attention to his son. A warm smile touched his lips, and he reached down to ruffle his hair.
Tirik made a face at him. “Father!”
Kiziv laughed. “He has his mother’s eyes,” he remarked to the Doctor. “I think...I would like to see that woman again. She was kind and gentle.”
“Then what’s to stop you?” the Doctor asked through a toothy grin.
“What are you proposing?” came a voice from behind them--flat and smooth, Oliver’s but not. “We do not understand, but this Oliver is glad for it. What do these changes mean?”
“Hopefully, they mean avoiding any further nonsense like this,” the Doctor remarked. “And Oliver knows what he’s talking--er, thinking about. He saw Sorodum with me, not to mention enough other divided societies to know that it never works for everyone’s benefit. But I think the people of Filioris have their own lessons to learn, now.” He gave Tirik and his father a quick look, his eyes sharp but his expression smiling, before turning to Oliver. “It’s about time we kept our bargain, don’t you think?”
“Are you leaving now?” Tirik asked, looking up at the Doctor earnestly. “Will you come back? Maybe for the festival?”
The Doctor made a face. “Ah yes, well, I think that’s probably not the best plan. And...” He leaned closer to the boy before whispering in a still-booming voice, “I wouldn’t want to give Oliver here any ideas.” He straightened, smiling pleasantly. “Come along, Oliver. It’s time to finish your errand.”
Oliver obediently began to walk toward the Doctor, but Tirik cried out in dismay.
“Wait! When will you come back?”
The Doctor paused, turning back to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Oliver and I fix things around the universe, Tirik. And I think your father and the people here have gotten enough help already. It’s up to them to take it from here, whatever they choose to do.”
“We’ll do this right,” Kiziv assured him, putting an arm around his son’s shoulders. “Thank you, Doctor. And thanks to your friend.”
“Yes, well, all in a day’s work.” He adjusted his hat, smiling, before he turned and started back toward the TARDIS, Oliver following silently behind.
“Good-bye, Doctor!” Tirik called after him. “Be careful! And don’t forget to keep jelly babies with you!”
The Doctor gave a booming laugh, turning back to the boy. “I wouldn’t dream of it!” Then he disappeared inside the door, Oliver entering closely after him. As soon as the door had closed, a vworping noise filled the street. Both Tirik’s and his father’s jaws dropped as they watched the Doctor’s amazing shed fade out of existence.
“Well,” Kiziv said after a long moment of staring. “We have work to start on. Are you ready to help?”
Tirik looked up at his father in surprise before breaking out in a wide grin. “Yes!”
***
“I’ve kept my part of the bargain,” the Doctor boomed as he and Oliver set the statue down on the rock outcropping in front of the TARDIS, near the other gathered pieces of stone. “It’s time for you to keep yours.”
“Yes,” the entity agreed, to the Doctor’s relief. “It is time for us to return home.”
“Without him,” the Doctor prompted.
“Yes,” the entity repeated. However, Oliver’s expression did not change, and he continued to stand immobile next to the statue.
The Doctor found himself beginning to impatiently tap his foot. “Lapidi-”
“We know,” the entity interrupted. “We would like...” It paused, frowning as it struggled for words. “We are trying to understand human experience. We think we would like--that this one would like--to say good-bye.”
The Doctor’s eyes flared with anger. “He’s not leaving!” he thundered.
The entity flinched, taking a step back. “No, but we are leaving. He would like to say good-bye to us. We...perhaps...we would like to say good-bye to you?” It was far more of a question than a statement, but that might have had more to do with the unnerving glare that the Doctor was currently directing at it than anything else.
The Doctor relaxed visibly at that, however. “Ah yes, I suppose I can understand,” he said with a nod. “Good-bye, then. And see that you don’t allow another disaster to separate you from yourself. I can understand the need to flee from acid rains once, but it had best not happen again on your new planet, or your leaders and I may need to have words.”
The entity was confused. “We did not cause the disaster.”
The Doctor sighed. “No, no, it was your nosy neighbors, wasn’t it? Isn’t that always the way! But a better understanding of different lifeforms could have prevented that misunderstanding. Do you see that now?”
The entity was silent for a moment, gazing at the Doctor through Oliver with troubled eyes. Finally, it softly agreed. “Yes. We see that.”
“Then share the knowledge!” the man declared. “You’d be surprised how much a bit of knowledge can do to maintain peace.”
“We will,” the entity promised. “Good-bye, Doctor. And good-bye to this one, this Oliver.” It paused, as if ready to stop there but reconsidering at the last moment. “Thank you,” it added.
The Doctor grinned. “It’s always a pleasure to get to know a new race. Well, almost always. And in this case, yes, I think it has been. Now then, on your way.”
Oliver gave a solemn nod, and then he abruptly staggered, nearly losing his balance. The Doctor took a quick step forward, grabbing him by the shoulders to steady him as Oliver put a hand to his head.
“That...was weird,” the young man murmured blearily.
“As astute an observation as ever, Oliver,” the Doctor remarked, helping his companion to get his footing before carefully letting go of him.
“Yeah, I’d like to hear how...astute...you sound when you’ve just spent a few...hours?...having your head scrambled by an alien that communicates through psychic waves,” Oliver mumbled.
“Yes, well, I think we’ve had enough of that for one day. Don’t you?”
Oliver just looked at him incredulously.
The Doctor smiled cheerfully. “I thought as much. Come along, then. Back to the TARDIS.” The Doctor put a hand on Oliver’s arm, helping to keep him steady as they both made their way back across the outcropping and into the waiting blue box.
Once they were safely inside, the Doctor went straight for the controls, setting for them to take off into the vortex.
Oliver hovered closely behind him, his expression troubled. He put one hand on the console to keep himself standing through the remaining vestiges of dizziness after his possession. “Doctor?” he asked.
The man didn’t look up. “Hm?”
Oliver scratched his head sheepishly with his free hand. “I still don’t get what happened,” he admitted.
The Doctor turned halfway round, raising an eyebrow at him. His expression was incredulous. “You had the alien consciousness in your mind, and you don’t understand what it was doing?”
Oliver made a face. “Not that! I got that. I mean, what I don’t get is why all the people connected to the statue listened to you just like they listened to it.”
The Doctor just looked at him for a moment, as if asking how he could possibly have failed to work the answer out on his own. “Because I was immune to its control, of course,” he said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Oliver blinked at him. “And that made them listen to you because...?” he pressed.
The Doctor gave a long-suffering sigh. “Because Pafos meant for the statue to make men follow orders, but rather than organizing the much more complicated scenario of gender-based obedience, they simply listened to anyone who was unaffected by the psychic energy. Which, unexpectedly for Pafos, included Time Lords. Got it?”
“Oh.” Oliver considered that. “Yeah.”
“And don’t think I don’t have a question or two for you about what happened, Oliver Day,” the Doctor added.
Oliver blanched at the Doctor’s tone. “Like what?”
“Oh, like wondering what could have made you think that making a peace sign with one hand was a less-than-obvious way to communicate to me that you were only pretending to be under the statue’s control,” he replied casually.
Oliver couldn’t help a faint smile at that, but the Doctor’s expression immediately darkened.
“And, more importantly,” he added. “To ask where, in that tiny mind of yours, it could ever possibly sound like a good idea to make it clear to an alien entity with no understanding of biological interaction that you would be willing to give anything--even your very existence--for the sake of its whims.”
Oliver swallowed hard, shrinking back a step under the Doctor’s gaze. “I never said that!” he protested. “It was just...reading my mind, and I told it I wanted to help it, and then it flashed through a whole bunch of my memories and starting saying all that! I didn’t say any of it!”
The Doctor gave him a flat look.
“And you can’t tell me you wouldn’t’ve done the same!” Oliver added.
“That’s beside the point!” the Doctor boomed.
Oliver pouted. “You’re not the only one around here who wants to save the universe.”
The Doctor just sighed at that, stepping away to hang up his hat. When he moved back toward the console, his expression was unreadable. “One of these days, Oliver Day, you will learn to appreciate the value of your own life.”
“I do!” Oliver argued.
The Doctor said nothing, his expression stormy.
Oliver made a face, trying to come up with a way to break the tension. “Doctor,” he said after a moment. “Do you think the Filiorans are gonna be okay?”
The Doctor pursed his lips thoughtfully at that. “They have a lot of changes to make,” he said. “Change is never easy. But if there are more men like Tirik and his father, then yes, I think they will be.”
Oliver nodded, smiling faintly at that assessment. “Yeah, but...” He frowned. “What about those other men? We never really got to know them. Or the women. I hope they can work together.”
“Yes, well, you’d be surprised what men and women can do together, Oliver,” the Doctor replied absently as he fiddled with the controls. “Especially when they’ve been kept apart for too long.”
Oliver smiled a little wistfully. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll find out,” he said, smirking faintly.
The Doctor quirked an eyebrow at him, then made a face, and then decided to change the subject. “We also have the benefit of being able to watch the news headlines,” he added. “Or, if you’re really concerned, we could always pop back there in thirty years or so.”
“Whoa!” Oliver laughed. “No, I think I’ve had enough of Filioris for today, thanks. I don’t really want to meet Tirik as a kid and then when he’s older than me within a few hours.”
“If you say so.” The Doctor turned his attention back to the controls.
Oliver rolled his eyes, watching for a moment before he couldn’t resist asking another question. “Hey, what happened to that Pafos, anyway?”
The Doctor’s cloudy expression immediately returned. “I took her home.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow, not sure what to make of that. “And where’s that?”
“Oliver!” The Doctor looked up at his companion in dismay. “Didn’t you see the connections? Her attitude, her aspirations? The style of dress and architecture that she brought to Filioris?”
“‘Course I did!” Oliver protested defensively, putting his hands up in front of him as if to ward off an attack. “But she’d traveled there from another world! She couldn’t possibly have been from Ancient Greece or Rome on Earth.” He paused at the look on the Doctor’s face. “Could she?”
The Doctor shook his head. “No, they were much too primitive. But if a sect of Greeks from during the Roman Empire was accidentally transported to another planet and began a colony-”
“Whoa, stop right there!” Oliver cried. “You mean a bunch of Ancient Greeks got stranded in space?”
“Not ‘a bunch.’ But yes, basically, that is what I mean.”
Oliver burst out laughing. “Now there’s a story Ovid would’ve loved! Metamorphosis of the whole planet!”
The Doctor looked scandalized. “Nothing happened to Earth! I made sure of that.”
Oliver chuckled. “Yeah, but I mean, a new planet would’ve seemed like...oh, nevermind!” He shook his head with a smile. “Let’s just get going to our next destination.” He gestured at one of the switches in front of the Doctor.
The man raised an eyebrow, flicking it. The central column came to life. “Good on you, Oliver. It seems you are learning.”
“All part of being human!” Oliver declared with a grin. “And before you say it, I know, Time Lords are infinitely cleverer than we are. But we’re not so bad in the end, are we?”
“Not at times,” the Doctor conceded with a twinkle in his eye. “Not at times.”