Chapter 1: Part I
Chapter Text
As the happy cries and chat of the reunited families on Dame Kelly Holmes Close continued behind them, the Doctor and Rose, together once more, were finally headed off to join the crowds to see the 2012 Olympic Games in action.
'Go on, give us a clue. Which events do we do well in?' Rose asked, nudging him.
‘Well, I will tell you this,’ he said through a mouthful of cake, ‘Papua New Guinea surprise everyone in the shot put.’
Rose frowned, hand on her head. ‘Really? You're joking, aren't you?’
He just smirked.
‘Doctor,’ Rose prompted, ‘are you serious or are you joking?’
‘Wait and see!’
A nearby bang startled Rose slightly, but she rapidly realised as the crowd cheered and the night sky lit up that the fireworks had started. She took the Doctor’s hand as they slowed their stride, both gazing up at the dazzling light display.
‘Y’know what? They keep on tryin’ to split us up, but they never ever will,’ she said happily.
The Doctor slowed, looking at her. ‘Never say never ever,’ he warned.
They came to a stop as the fireworks continued. ‘Nah, we'll always be okay, you and me.’ He didn’t answer, so she nudged him as a prompt. ‘Don't you reckon, Doctor?’
He still didn’t answer for a moment, just gazing up before he finally spoke, ‘there's something in the air. Something coming.’
‘What?’
He didn't move his gaze. ‘A storm's approaching.’
‘So, Martha Jones, where d’you wanna go?’
Martha never failed to be stunned by that question, despite the Doctor asking it so many times before. The whole of time and space was now technically her domain. She could go anywhere and anytime she wanted. The reformation; the assassination of JFK; the fall of the Berlin Wall; the building of Stonehenge; the ancient sumerian and assyrian civilisations in full flow. She could even go to the future. To see her home in the year 3500; to explore the first human colony in space; to see the first true contact between humans and aliens.
With all of this spiralling through her head, Martha realised, rather dully, that she only had one answer to that question:
‘I've got no idea.'
The Doctor laughed. ‘C’mon. Anywhere. Name a date and place. I’ll take you anywhere at all.'
She pulled a face. ‘It’s like … you know when you get Sky when you’ve been used to five channels and you never know what to watch because there’s so much?’
He smiled. 'Okay, let's narrow it down, shall we? Past or future?'
'Err …' She paused, flipping a metaphorical coin in her head. 'Future.'
'Near future, mid future, or far future?'
'Near,' she decided.
'Earth or somewhere else?'
'Err … Earth.'
'Event or everyday?’
‘Event.’
‘Sport, political, or other?’
‘Err, sport. Hold on …’ She had a brainwave. ‘What about the 2012 Olympics? That’s got to be worth a look.’
He gazed at her, visibly wincing a little.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Might be a bit of a problem,’ he confessed.
‘I thought you said “anywhere at all”, mister?’ Martha challenged, smiling.
'I've been there before.'
'So? Come on, the way you talk about things you must've been everywhere by now. That can’t exactly be anything new.'
'There's a real risk of meeting myself,' he explained. 'I went there with Rose and we saw practically every event.'
Martha internally sighed. Rose again. She briefly wondered if there was ever going to be a day he didn't mention her like some sort of lovesick puppy waiting for its owner to come home. Her irritation was palpable. 'Well, if it's too much trouble, don't worry about it.'
The Doctor looked at her with a twinge of slight frustration in his eyes. Clearly he’d just taken her comment as a personal insult to his capabilities. ‘Oh, I can do it. We’ve just got to be careful.'
‘Consider it done,’ Martha said, grinning.
He paused, leaning momentarily on the console as the many cogs in his brain internally whirred. ‘Okay,’ he finally concluded, and started to program.
The Doctor and Martha stepped out into a very neat and tidy cul-de-sac lined with houses on both sides, all looking very prim and proper. Martha ignored most of this and instead focused on a second TARDIS parked amid some roadworks twenty metres away.
‘So I thought we were trying to avoid them?’ Martha asked seriously.
‘We need to keep them close to check where they go, then head in the opposite direction,’ the Doctor replied.
‘Why? Don’t you remember where you went?’
‘Not entirely sure,’ the Doctor admitted. ‘I think we got invited into the Royal Box. Last thing I remember is Prince Harry offering to get us drinks. I’m pretty sure I said no, but then I woke up on a lilo in the indoor pool in Buckingham Palace wearing a tutu covered in silly string and jam, with Rose asleep in a cupboard hugging an inflatable giraffe and a door sign from Windsor Castle.’
Martha rolled her eyes, checking the street. She very quickly spotted a very familiar tall, lanky man and a shorter blonde woman walking away from them.
She just had to be blonde, didn’t she?
Martha nudged the Doctor. ‘There.’
‘I know,’ the Doctor said, his voice dropping. ‘C’mon.’
They began to follow the two figures from a distance. Martha couldn’t hear their conversation, but they were having a good laugh about it.
‘Um, Martha?’ the Doctor asked suddenly as they walked.
‘What?’ Martha asked, only vaguely paying attention to him as she was so fixated on the Doctor and Rose ahead.
‘You humans usually take down your Christmas decorations by July, don’t you?’
That made Martha stop, and follow his pointing finger to the houses lining the street they were on. For the first time, she realised that the street was covered in fairy lights and glowing plastic representations of snowmen, Santas, and reindeer. The Doctor had landed in completely the wrong time.
‘It’s not July, it's Christmas,’ she realised. 'We've landed wrong again.'
'Hey, we're only five months out,' the Doctor protested.
Martha smirked. 'Bit of a coincidence we managed to find you two then.'
'It really is,' the Doctor said musingly, his brow furrowing.
‘Are we leaving, then?’
His brow remained furrowed. ‘Lemme satisfy an itch. Follow me.’
‘Silent night, holy night …’
In the distance, Martha could hear the sound of a choir singing. She looked up, and could just about see the spire of a church poking over the trees.
‘All is calm, all is bright … Round yon virgin Mother and Child ...’ the choir sang.
‘Careful,’ the Doctor warned as his past self and Rose turned the corner onto the street where the church was, both of them chatting and laughing.
‘Holy infant so tender and mild … sleep in heavenly peace … sleep in heavenly peace.’
The Doctor and Martha were about to follow, when suddenly there was a loud clicking sound, followed by a harrowing scream.
It took Martha all of two seconds to realise that had been a gunshot with a silencer. By the time she’d processed it, the Doctor was already off, running in pursuit of his past self and Rose.
‘Wait …!’ Martha tried, running after him. She was going so fast she nearly skidded straight into the back of him in a spray of gravel as he stood there seemingly fused to the spot, looking in horror at someone on the pavement twenty metres away.
Martha followed his stare, and froze.
There was Rose Tyler standing in the dimly-lit street looking down, hyperventilating with pure panic. The body of the Doctor’s past self was lying in a heap of limbs, half-on and half-off the pavement with the clear glint of blood seeping out from his head to drip down the nearby drain.
‘Oh my god,’ was all Martha managed to gasp before her Doctor was running to Rose.
‘Rose!’ the Doctor shouted, ‘get back from him!’
Rose looked up in shock. ‘Doctor!?’
‘Get back!’ he ordered as he reached her. He was scanning the surroundings as he grabbed her arm and hauled her upright, practically throwing her in the direction of Martha. Martha took that as a cue, forcing herself forward to grab the blonde girl. Rose screamed and flailed at her touch.
‘Sorry! It’s okay! I’m with the Doctor!’ Martha assured her quickly, taking her arm again.
Rose seemed to relent, clearly far too shocked to do much else.
‘Get her back to the Tardis!’ the Doctor shouted. ‘Run!’
‘But …’
‘NOW!’ he roared.
Martha did as ordered, taking Rose’s hand and dragging her behind her as they fled.
The Doctor was looking frantically around for any sign of the assailant, but he could see, hear, smell, and feel absolutely nothing or no one left in the vicinity besides the choir still singing Silent Night, completely oblivious.
‘Hey!’ he shouted.
Nothing. Whoever or whatever it was had fled.
He stooped to his past self, quickly examining him. His worst fears were confirmed when he pulled back his hair and saw, quite distinctly, that he’d been shot in the head. There was a very precise entry point to the right side of his skull with no exit wound.
‘No, no, no,’ the Doctor grated, checking for a pulse. It was there, but probably not for long. Acutely aware of lights in nearby houses beginning to turn on, the Doctor grabbed his past self under the arms and began to haul him back to the nearby TARDIS where Martha was waiting to close the door.
‘Martha, Rose, get him to the infirmary,’ the Doctor gasped as soon as he was inside.
They both did as he ordered, grunting with the effort to carry his past self out of the console room and into the corridor. The Doctor quickly programmed the TARDIS to go to the vortex, and without even waiting to land he ran in pursuit of Martha and Rose.
Thirty minutes later, Martha found herself gazing down at the past version of the Doctor lying there in bed shirtless, attached to multiple tubes and wires. He looked so pathetic and helpless, and a million miles away from the man she knew and adored.
The scans they’d completed had revealed the sheer amount of pure carnage inside his head. Even though Martha didn’t know about the general construction of the Time Lord’s brain, she knew severe brain damage when she saw it. The bullet had ripped right through the centre, bulldozing every single lobe possible before embedding itself in what she reasoned was probably his equivalent of a brain stem.
Unless there was a miracle alien cure, this version of the Doctor was only alive because of the machines. Martha couldn’t see him staying that way for more than a few days at most. Besides, she already knew without a shadow of a doubt that this past version of the Doctor - if he did wake up - was likely never going to be the Doctor again. Simply too much of him had been completely destroyed, and due to the strange type of bullet, most of his brain was now in the bottom left of his head, smashed to pieces and fried like toasted breadcrumbs.
In addition to that, the Doctor had said there was utterly no point whatsoever in extracting the bullet. Besides from finishing his past self off completely, at this point Martha agreed it was just undignified and unnecessary. Realistically, all they could do was give him life support, and make him comfortable.
Rose had been present throughout the entire process, not saying a word. She seemed strangely calm, although Martha was positive that it was from sheer shock rather than any sense of complacency.
Finally the Doctor was satisfied with what they’d done and moved to Rose still sitting on the adjacent bed, just staring at her Doctor. Martha got the distinct impression the future Doctor’s presence, however bizarre to past Rose, was strangely calming for her.
He sat down next to her and pulled her into a hug, purposely turning her head from the body of his past self. She held on as though he were a rock in a storm.
After a few silent moments, he pulled back and squeezed her shoulder gently.
‘Martha’ll get you a cup of tea while I get freshened up, and then we’ll have a chat, okay?’ he said. ‘He’s fine where he is. See you in the living room.’
Rose nodded.
Martha hadn’t been able to get much out of Rose as they waited for the Doctor to return, besides how she liked her tea. She was still, rather reasonably, in shock. Martha didn’t want to even try and imagine what seeing the Doctor being shot through the head looked like, much less try and comprehend the time travelling confusion of a second Doctor turning up unannounced with a woman Rose had never met before. However, after everything that had happened in the past hour, that was the part she seemed to be taking the best. She certainly wasn’t asking any questions about it yet.
The woman Martha had spent quite a while begrudging due to the Doctor’s mention-itis was now in front of her, and Martha almost couldn’t bear the thought of the things she’d muttered under her breath regarding her. Looking at Rose right now, all she could see was a very vulnerable, very upset fellow human woman. A woman who’d fallen into the same set of circumstances as her - meeting the Doctor and flying off around the universe on the best adventure of her life. Somehow it had ended up like this for her, and the more Martha thought about it, the less sense it made.
The Doctor wasn’t supposed to die with Rose. That was just a fact. How on Earth could she still be sitting here with a future version of him if he’d died with Rose? Shakespeare and the witches and all the causality with changing history had been one thing, but this didn’t make much sense at all.
Finally cleaned of his own blood and dressed in a new suit and shirt, the Doctor arrived in the living room to join them. He nodded at Martha, who nodded in return, and he wordlessly took the seat next to Rose. She immediately took hold of his arm. He deliberately leant towards her so she could get more of a grip.
‘He’s gonna die, isn’t he?’ Rose said quietly without a single pause for breath. ‘And don’t sugar coat it, yeah?’
The Doctor sighed, pausing momentarily before he answered a very simple, ‘yes.’
She nodded, clearly already having known it. ‘How long?’
‘Couple of days at most. He’s certainly not going to wake up again.’
‘Is there no chance?’ Martha asked, frowning. ‘Like some alien healing technique you could use?’
‘There’s too much damage. Nothing’s going to fix this,’ the Doctor replied solemnly.
‘But there’s got to be something,’ Martha insisted. ‘This can’t happen.’
He shook his head. ‘He’s braindead. Mainly because there’s not much of it left. It’s just the machines keeping him physically alive. Everything he was is gone.’
'But he can regenerate, yeah?’ Rose asked. ‘Or d’you … d’you need to be conscious to regenerate?’
Martha frowned, but knew immediately that this wasn’t the right time to ask what that meant.
‘He can’t,’ the Doctor said quietly.
‘What?’ Rose asked, confused.
‘There are a few circumstances where Time Lords can’t regenerate. Bullet in the head at precisely that angle with exactly that type of damage is one of them. I can’t save him.’
‘But this is impossible,’ Rose muttered, looking at him directly with shining eyes. ‘You’re you from the future, yeah?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Then how can you be sittin’ here if you died with me?’
‘Yeah,’ Martha agreed. ‘And how can I be here? Maybe that means you survived, Doctor?’
Rose’s eyes widened, straightening up. ‘Oh my god, she’s right, Doctor. This means you survive somehow! Wait, then you've gotta know what happens?'
The Doctor pulled a face. ‘I don’t see how he can survive, and I don’t remember this ever happening to us, Rose.‘
‘What does that mean?’ Martha asked.
‘This didn’t happen. None of this originally happened,’ the Doctor told her. ‘I wasn’t shot. Even if I’d somehow survived and forgotten, I’d still have the scar.’
He rubbed at the side of his head and showed his fingers to make the point there was nothing there.
‘But … how has this happened now if it didn’t happen before?’ Rose asked, confused.
‘I don’t know,’ the Doctor confessed. ‘All can I think is that someone’s interfered with my timestream and just created a huge paradox doing it. Someone who knew we’d be there, jumped out, and shot me. Did you see who it was, Rose?’
‘I dunno. It was so quick.’
‘Anything you can remember,’ the Doctor encouraged. ‘What did you see?’
‘I dunno, we were walkin’, suddenly there was a bang and … y’know,’ she said.
‘Where did the shot come from?’
‘Um,’ Rose began, orientating herself briefly before gesturing somewhere over to her right in an upwards direction. ‘Over there somewhere.’
‘They must’ve been in that church,’ the Doctor mused. ‘The trajectory of the bullet would put the assassin in the belfry. That wasn’t a human bullet either. I can’t see it properly without taking it out but it didn't look human in the scans. And this was an absolutely perfect shot. A professional.’
‘This still doesn’t answer how we’re still here and you’re still alive,’ Martha pointed out.
‘There could be a delay,’ the Doctor theorised. ‘It’s a huge paradox, and I’m a Time Lord. Maybe it’s not caught up with me, yet.’
‘So … you’re like some sort of ghost?’ Martha wondered.
‘Well, my younger self’s not actually dead yet, so …’
As if on cue, suddenly the cloister bell began to knell - an alert from the TARDIS. The Doctor was up immediately, with Martha and Rose following him back into the infirmary where the past version of the Doctor was crashing.
‘No, no, no!’ the Doctor cried, running forward to try and keep his younger self alive with a myriad of devices, techniques, and medicines with Martha’s help.
After twenty minutes, it was very, very clear that there was absolutely nothing more they could do.
The Doctor finally stepped back, hands on his head. ‘... I’m dead.’
‘Oh god,’ Rose whined, dropping to her knees beside the younger Doctor’s bed. She took his hand, and finally the pent up tears flowed for the loss of her best friend. They let her sob in silence for the few minutes that followed. Even Martha, despite the strangest set of circumstances with the Doctor clearly still alive and breathing and standing next to her, was crying too.
Finally she got a hold of herself, and looked up at the living Doctor. ‘... What do we do?’ she asked, her voice breaking. Rose looked up too, her eyes red and swollen from the tears.
The Doctor gazed at them both. ‘Well, I’m still here. Clearly it’s going to take some time for my death to catch up with me.’
‘So?’
‘So, if I’m going to die, I‘d like to see what finally killed me.’
Chapter 2: Part II
Summary:
The crew continue their investigation with an examination of the crime scene.
Chapter Text
They headed back to the street of the murder, landing just one hour after the shooting had taken place. The choir singers had ceased. Now all that remained was the distant sounds of traffic and London nightlife. There wasn’t much evidence of the Doctor’s demise left on the pavement, besides a little bit of blood that the Doctor made a point of scuffing with his shoe to try and get rid of.
‘I was here,’ the Doctor said, placing himself in a very specific position on the left side of the road. ‘Rose, come stand next to me, exactly how you were.’
Rose hesitated a little, but obliged and moved into position on his right. Martha was quietly impressed. Being asked to re-enact the exact moment your best friend had been shot in the head less than a metre away from you wasn’t something she could be sure she’d be all that happy to do, but Rose seemed to just get on with it, a lot like the Doctor himself.
The Doctor raised his arm to point at the belfry in the church, clearly doing some mental calculations regarding the angle. ‘No, hold on …’ He edged forward slightly. ‘Here. Definitely from the belfry. Perfect trajectory. Probably that opening, left side,’ he concluded, pointing at one of the gaps in the belfry’s structure. He spun around and looked at them both. ‘Facts. What do we know about the surroundings when I was shot? Sight, sound, anything?’
‘There was singing,’ Rose said.
‘Yes,’ the Doctor mused, ‘probably usually fairly quiet around here, so it’s reasonable cover to use the singing. So they knew there’d be singing and we’d be walking down this exact street at this exact time. Probably only achievable by a time traveller. Anything else?’
‘It was dark,’ Martha said.
‘Good point. Would have needed night vision; if it’s an alien that could be physical, if it’s human it’s a gun attachment,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘Anything else?’
‘The fact the shot came from the belfry,’ Martha said.
The Doctor nodded again. ‘The assassin would need to have something to do with the church. We’ll need to find out their process for the belfry - if it’s locked, who’s got the key, who might’ve had access at that time, and if anyone would have seen someone going in or out. Anything else?’
‘The singing was the choir,’ Rose pointed out.
The Doctor’s eyebrows knotted for a moment, considering that. ‘Yes!’ he exclaimed. ‘If there’s only one way through the church, the assassin would probably be known to the choir, or at least someone would have seen them.’
‘They could’ve teleported in,’ Rose suggested.
‘Doubt it,’ the Doctor dismissed. ‘There’s no teleportation device that can be that precise, except the Tardis, of course.’
‘Then maybe it was a Tardis?’ Martha wondered.
‘I’ve got the only one,’ the Doctor told her.
‘Then … it was you?’
He almost laughed at that. ‘Me shooting myself? Besides, the Tardis wouldn’t fit in the belfry. No, they had to be in the area already. Right. Let’s get into the belfry.’
He jogged off in the direction of the church without another word.
Somewhat cautiously, Martha moved to Rose, walking beside her as they followed the Doctor. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Not really,’ Rose muttered.
‘Sorry, silly question,’ she said, trying to laugh it off. Rose gave no response. ‘I’m Martha, by the way.’
‘Yeah, I figured,’ she replied abruptly.
A brief silence.
‘I don’t mean to be rude or anythin’, but when exactly does he pick you up?’
There was a bitter edge to Rose’s tone, and Martha understood exactly why. She decided not to rise to it. Rose, after all, had had an awful night. ‘I’ve lost track of time,’ she confessed.
‘Havin’ the time of your life?’ Rose asked facetiously. ‘Seein’ all the wonders of the universe with him? You’d better enjoy it while it lasts, cos if he somehow survives this, he will ditch you.’
‘Oh, come on, that’s not fair,’ Martha protested.
‘If it’s fair in any way then answer me this one: where the hell am I?’ Rose said, spinning around to stop Martha in her tracks. ‘Why are you standin’ here and not me?’
The sudden but inevitable question caused Martha to hesitate. ‘I … don’t know for sure.’
Rose fumed. ‘I’ve seen it before, there was this girl called Sarah Jane Smith that he used to travel with, and one day he just abandoned her. I bet that’s what he did to me and it’s what he’ll do to you, too, and …’
She suddenly trailed off, her hand over her mouth looking appalled at herself.
‘Oh god, I’m sorry,’ she said genuinely. ‘He’s dyin’ and I’m worryin’ about this - literally the most unimportant thing right now.’
Martha stared at her sadly. ‘It’s okay,’ she assured her.
‘I can’t believe he’s dead,’ Rose murmured.
‘There has to be a way to save him,’ Martha stated firmly. ‘If we find the killer maybe there’s something there.’
‘Yeah, there’s gotta be,’ Rose affirmed, although both of them knew without even saying that it was probably highly unlikely. ‘We just gotta help him. Like we always do.’
Martha smiled. ‘Yep, like we always do.’
They hugged, the two of them just holding onto each other, united as two companions of the Doctor. They finally parted, and the conversation finally began to flow.
‘You’re from London, too?’ Rose asked.
‘Yes, I’m a medical student.’
‘Oh, nice. I was a shop assistant,’ Rose replied. ‘Until he blew up my job.’
Martha frowned. ‘Wait, do you mean Henrik’s?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I remember that,’ Martha realised. ‘That was all over the news. Was he to do with the shop mannequins, too?’
‘Yeah. Started travelling with him after that. What about you?’
‘My hospital was transported to the Moon by rhinos.’
Rose laughed loudly. ‘Y’know, anyone else would think we’re crazy. Been anywhere else good with him?’
Martha nodded. ‘We saw Shakespeare.’
‘Really? He never took me there. Was it good?’
‘Oh, the best,’ Martha replied happily.
‘Why were you two here, anyway?’
‘I asked for the Olympics and he said we’d have to be careful cos of you two then landed in completely the wrong place.’
‘Sounds like him tryin’ to be impressive,’ Rose said, laughing.
‘Oi, are you two coming or what? I’m dying over here,’ a familiar voice called from the church.
‘Coming!’ Martha called. She and Rose both smiled, linked hands, and started back on their way again.
‘I’ve just got one question then I promise I won’t say anything about it again.'
Martha looked at her. 'What?'
'Does he … mention me at all?’
‘He doesn’t shut up about you,’ Martha said honestly.
Rose raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’
‘Rose this, Rose that …’
Rose smirked, and Martha found herself laughing. By the time they reached the Doctor, he was busy breaking into the locked church with the sonic screwdriver.
‘Why can’t we just go back to when it happened, stand in the belfry and catch them doing it?’ Martha wondered.
‘You’re kidding, aren’t you?’ the Doctor asked disbelievingly. ‘You want three versions of me, one alive, one braindead and one dead, two of you, two of Rose, three versions of the Tardis and possibly multiple versions of a potentially time travelling annoyed assassin all in one place inside a temporal paradox?’
Martha blinked. ‘You’re right, stupid suggestion.’
‘Besides,’ he continued, pushing with one finger on the church door, which swung inwards. ‘This is far more fun.’
He entered the church, with Rose close behind him.
Martha couldn’t really believe that a man who knew he could be dead at any minute still seemed to be trying to find thrills. Though, she supposed, knowing you could drop dead could just be the engine for throwing absolutely everything to the wind.
She should have expected nothing less from the Doctor, really.
The group of time travellers entered the dark church at precisely the stroke of midnight.
‘Can’t see a thing,’ Rose complained.
‘Hold on,’ the Doctor said, raising the sonic and buzzing it towards the roof. Seconds later, all the lights came on, revealing a very expansive church lined with pews, leading to an altar at the far end framed by a beautiful large stained glass window flanked by statues.
‘Wow,’ Rose muttered.
The Doctor pocketed the sonic again. ‘Okay, spread out, try and find the entrance to the belfry.’
Rose and Martha fragmented, and the Doctor headed to the altar, only stopping to take a stray leaflet from one of the pews, detailing the upcoming events at the church in Comic Sans font. He pocketed it and continued forward, pausing again to stare up at the stained glass window. It was a depiction of God surrounded by some angels, with the big man himself staring straight down at the Doctor. A conveniently-placed light outside was shining through, lighting up God ethereally.
A strange feeling suddenly washed over the Doctor, like an emptiness he couldn’t quite understand. In front of him he suddenly saw the vague outline of some indistinct shape charging towards him at breakneck speed …
He tore his eyes away from God and jumped to the left, before his head snapped back to look.
Whatever it had been, it was now gone.
He quickly dismissed it. Trick of the light.
He turned, saw a small door to his left and jogged to it. There was a very old, large, and rusty key hanging on a hook to the right, so he took it and inserted it into the lock. With a bit of force, the old lock opened and the door swung out to reveal a tiny toilet in a room buried in a set of winding stairs heading up into darkness.
'Rose, Martha!' he called. Within seconds they appeared.
'There's only one way in,' Rose noted.
'Key by the door,' he said. 'C'mon.'
The Doctor pounded up the stairs, producing a torch to light the way. Eventually they emerged into the belfry itself, with a giant bell in the centre and four open arches giving a fantastic view out over London.
'Wow, look at that,' Martha mused.
The Doctor went to one of the arches, checking the walls before assuming a position as if holding a sniper rifle in his hands, pointing down at himself. He looked at the wall, then the floor, and then between the two companions.
‘Hmm, Martha, crouch here like you’re aiming for me down on the street,’ the Doctor invited.
Martha obligingly took position, and he checked her aim.
‘Right down exactly where the right eye of that stone lion is,’ he said.
‘Um, where?’ Martha asked.
‘Oh yeah, sorry,’ the Doctor realised, and gently moved her hands to aim for what he could see, but she couldn’t. ‘Okay, right there. Comfortable? Steady? Feel like you could take a shot?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Good. They have the same build as you,’ he concluded.
‘How do you know that?’ Martha asked seriously.
‘Scuffs and dust particles on the wall and floor at your exact foot, arm and shoulder level,’ he pointed out, before resting his hand on her shoulder, jumping and twisting three feet back and pointing directly at a small crack in the belfry’s structure. He followed his finger, getting to the floor and reaching into the gap, pulling out something small, gold, and metal.
‘Is that the gun shell?’ Rose asked.
‘Yep,’ he replied, producing his torch again to get a little more light on it.
‘Doctor, can I get up, now?’ Martha asked, still pointing her imaginary gun at the imaginary Doctor in the street.
‘Oh, yes, sorry,’ he said, clearly far more focused on the gun shell.
‘Recognise it?’ Rose wondered as Martha stood up, brushing herself down.
‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘I’ll need to scan it in the Tardis to be sure, but I think this is from a Klasco sniper. Usually used by a very specific group of people - Klascos are like a standard issue weapon for Time Agents.’
Rose blinked. ‘You mean like Jack was?’
He looked at her, nodding.
‘Are you sayin’ you were killed by a Time Agent?’
He shrugged. ‘Can’t be sure. It would make sense with the time travel and weapon, though.’
‘But why?’ she persisted.
‘That’s the bit I don’t understand,’ the Doctor replied honestly. ‘I’ve annoyed a lot of people and organisations in my life, but the Time Agency isn’t one of them. My people had an agreement with them that we wouldn’t step on each other’s toes. Time travel gets complicated when people argue.’
‘Doctor, Rose,’ Martha suddenly interrupted from across the belfry. The Doctor looked up, seeing Martha pointing at something on the wall. The Doctor and Rose both moved forward, and saw a small black X written on one of the stones.
‘Oh,’ the Doctor muttered.
‘What?’ Martha asked.
‘That’s the mark of the Syndicate, and not the lottery kind. Group of assassins for hire.'
‘Wait, that means someone paid to have you killed,’ Martha realised.
He nodded. ‘Looks like.’
‘So it’s not the Time Agency,’ Rose said.
‘Well … around about Jack’s time, the Time Agency fragmented and the Syndicate was one of those splinter groups. They were all ex-Time Agents. Good news is usually the Syndicate are sleeper agents, so they take up residence on planets and get called into action when there’s a target.’ He paused, looking around the belfry again. ‘Just need to figure out how they got up here without alerting the choir.’
'Maybe they were invisible? Some sort of cloaking device?' Martha suggested.
‘Pretty unlikely,' the Doctor replied. 'Church walls are generally too dense to receive energy or signal transmissions, they're like little pockets of EMPs where sophisticated technology can't function. I can only really use the sonic in churches and even that’s half capacity.’
‘What about if they just climbed up the outside?’ Rose asked.
‘Not carrying a Klasco,’ the Doctor replied. ‘Far too heavy. Would need a large case for it. The Syndicate wouldn't have any technology to help with that.'
‘So what do we do now?’ Martha wondered.
He clicked his tongue, thinking. ‘Well …’ he began, scratching his head before pulling the leaflet out of his pocket and holding it up. ‘Choir meets every Friday night. Fancy a singsong?’
After quickly popping in the TARDIS, they landed a week later and entered the church while the choir were in the middle of a hymn. As soon as they entered, they were noticed by a little old lady wearing a flowery dress at the head of the choir, who quickly moved to meet them.
‘Good evening!’ she greeted happily.
The Doctor waved. ‘You’ve got a big crowd in tonight,’ he noted, counting at least thirty heads.
‘Oh, we always have full attendance,’ she bragged. ‘Nice to meet you. I’m Christine, the conductor and organiser of the choir.’
‘This is Rose, this is Martha, and people call me the Doctor,’ the Doctor replied cheerfully, shaking her hand. ‘We’ve just moved into the area and heard your singing - thought we’d come and have a nosey.’
Christine laughed. ‘Yes, of course. We’re always glad to have new members! We were just about to sing “Carol of the Bells”. You’re very welcome to join if you’d like to,’ she invited, holding out some lyric books.
‘Oh, yes please,’ the Doctor said happily, smiling and taking the proffered books, dispensing one to Martha, one to Rose, and keeping one for himself.
‘Whenever you’re ready, please join us,’ she said, and walked back to the gathering.
‘Um, which hymn is that?’ Rose asked Martha and the Doctor.
The Doctor frowned. ‘No idea. The one with the saxophone?’
Martha rolled her eyes. ‘It’s the scary sounding one,’ she reminded them.
‘Oh! I know that one,’ Rose realised.
‘Then which one has the saxophone?’ the Doctor asked seriously.
‘We’re not actually singing, are we?’ Martha wondered.
‘Yes, we are,’ the Doctor replied. ‘You heard her. Always full attendance, and we know no one could get in or out without any of these people knowing. They’ve got to be here somewhere. Remember, we’re looking for an alien, about your height, probably wearing a shimmer or a form of morphic illusion. If you see them in just the right light the disguise can very quickly flicker, so just keep looking. Oh, and one last thing. Very important.’
‘Yeah?’ Rose asked.
‘Try and be in tune.’
‘Okay,’ Rose and Martha said in unison as “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” drew to a close.
‘Do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do!’ the Doctor belted out, and then ran up to join the crowd. Rose and Martha glanced at each other with a simultaneous long-suffering-companion expression, and dutifully followed to stand beside him.
‘Right everyone, excellent work!’ Christine said from in front of them. ‘Richard, you could be a little more bassy on those lower notes.’
‘Sorry,’ a very deep-voiced elderly man said from the other end of the crowd.
‘Onto “Carol of the Bells”,’ Christine continued as she smiled at them all. ‘We have a few new people joining us for this one, so let’s give them all a hearty welcome with a great performance! Breathe in, breathe out, and stand up straight!’
The organist and cellist began to play.
‘Hark how the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away, Christmas is here, bringing good cheer …’ the Doctor, Martha, and Rose sang along with the group. ‘Ding dong ding dong, that is their song …’
All three were ferociously scanning the large crowd as they sang, waiting for any disguise to drop, however brief.
‘Oh, how they pound, raising the sound, o’er hill and dale, telling their tale ... ’
‘GAILY THEY RING WHILE PEOPLE SING SONGS OF GOOD CHEER CHRISTMAS IS HERE!’ the Doctor screamed in perfect pitch, nearly blowing Rose’s ear off.
‘Merry, merry, merry Christmas!’ the choir continued gracefully as the Doctor received a big thumbs up and a broad smile from Christine. ‘Merry, merry, merry Christmas!’
‘Okay, everyone stop for a moment!’ Christine said, hands in the air. The organist and violinist came to a messy end. ‘Very good work, Doctor, and also you, Ishmael. I’m losing the high notes suddenly, could the sopranos be a bit louder? Let’s try again …’
Chapter 3: Part III
Summary:
The Doctor, Rose and Martha join the choir to identify their biggest suspects.
Chapter Text
The halftime refreshments consisted of extremely watery orange squash and a tinned biscuit assortment. The Doctor ordered his companions to go and scout for information by chatting among the choir members, and a few minutes later the time travellers regrouped to swap notes.
‘What’s the scoop?’ the Doctor asked. ‘Any new members recently?’
‘James says they haven’t had any new members since Christmas,’ Rose said. ‘All the same old faces.’
‘No one’s mentioned anything out of the ordinary,’ Martha stated.
‘And Christine said they spot anyone coming in,’ the Doctor added. ‘The assassin must be one of the members, then.’
‘Have you seen any aliens? That’ll narrow it down a bit,’ Rose said.
The Doctor grimaced a little. ‘So here’s a funny thing - they all are.’
Rose and Martha looked at him, confused. ‘Wait, what?’ Rose asked.
‘Everyone except Christine is an alien in disguise.’
‘Wait, so she’s heading a choir of aliens and she doesn’t have a clue?’ Martha said, laughing a little.
He nodded, grinning. ‘Everyone’s in disguise. All wearing shimmers. Kind of funny, really.’
‘You think they know each other are aliens?’ Rose asked, laughing as well.
‘Probably not …’
They all laughed, before a rather sombre note hit Martha. ‘Wait, this means it could be any one of them.’
‘Yeah, that’s thirty people,’ Rose agreed.
‘I’ve narrowed it down to three people from their build and species,’ the Doctor said. ‘Mo, Terrance ... and Fiona keeps looking at me strangely in a sort of “didn’t I kill you last week” way.’
‘Time for some more schmoozing?’ Rose supposed, grinning.
‘Yep.’
‘What are we looking for?’ Martha asked.
‘Get suspicious if they don’t know their job or they’re freelancer of some kind, asking questions about me, if they’re a bit of a loner, or if they’re generally just out of place and terrible at pretending to be human. Go!’
Holding her orange squash in one hand and a chocolate digestive biscuit in the other, Martha approached Mo, a short man who was sitting alone in one of the pews, gazing absently at the ceiling.
'Hey!' Martha greeted warmly.
'Oh, hello!' the man replied very happily.
'I'm Martha,' she said, extending her hand. The man shook it enthusiastically.
'I'm Mo!'
'Great choir this, isn't it?' Martha said.
'Ah yes, it's very communal!' Mo replied. 'Do you think you and your friends will join us? We would love to have you!’
‘We’re definitely enjoying ourselves,’ Martha replied. ‘Been part of it long?’
‘Oh, yes!’ Mo answered. ‘I signed up straight after I got to Planet Ear … I mean ... Stratford,’ he quickly corrected himself, blushing slightly before quickly moving on the subject. ‘Everyone is very nice!’
Martha smiled. ‘When did you move here?’
‘About forty-eight kliks … um, I mean, twenty years ago,’ Mo said. ‘What is it you do?’
‘I’m a Medical Student,’ Martha replied. ‘What do you do?’
‘Oh! That’s lovely!’ Mo chimed. ‘I’m a sort of oddjob, really.’
Martha’s ears pricked up. ‘Oh, really? What sort of jobs?’
‘Engineering,’ Mo answered a little too quickly with a shifty look.
‘What kind of engineering?’
‘Computer engineering. Oh! I need the toilet. Lovely speaking!’ Mo garbled out quickly, and rushed off so fast he sloshed the rest of his orange squash over himself.
Rose approached Fiona - a young brunette woman who was looking at the noticeboard about the community’s upcoming events.
‘Hey!’ Rose greeted.
The woman turned, and nodded in greeting. ‘Evenin’, you alright?’ she asked in a strong London accent.
‘Yeah, not too bad,’ Rose replied. ‘I’m Rose. What’s your name?’
‘Fiona, but just call me Fi,’ the woman replied, smiling broadly. ‘Did I ‘ear you guys just moved in? Where you at?’
‘Oh ... ‘ Rose had absolutely no idea where they were, so she decided to pluck a name out of thin air, ‘King’s Street.’
‘Oh, that’s well posh,’ Fi said, laughing. ‘You guys must be minted.’
‘Nah, just lucky,’ Rose replied, relieved it had passed her check.
‘I’m on Pine Lane,’ Fi said, and looked at the Doctor who was speaking with Terrance across the room. ‘Who’s the bloke you came with?’
‘The Doctor?’
‘He’s a doctor? No wonder you guys live on King’s,’ Fiona mused. ‘He ain’t from London, is he? Where he from?’
Rose frowned a little at the stream of questions. ‘Oh, he’s … from … Nottingham.’
‘And you guys came together?’
‘Yeah. You with anyone?’
‘Oh gawd, no, not anymore. Couldn’t deal with ‘im. Travelled across half the universe to get rid of ‘im …’ She stopped herself abruptly, her eyes exploding slightly. ‘Err, I meant in a metaphorical kinda way.’
‘Of course,’ Rose said, smiling.
‘But yeah, I’m done with relationships. I’m strictly a one night stand girl these days. Your bloke’s a bit of alright though, isn’t it? Nice hair. Love a bloke with good hair.’
Rose smirked. ‘Yeah. Really, really great hair.’
‘He free or either of you seein’ him?’
That took Rose by surprise. ‘Oh, no. He’s …’
‘Free? Totally and completely up for a good night tonight?’ Fiona asked hopefully, pressing her for an answer.
Rose could feel her ears burning a little as she desperately tried to think of a reason this woman should never, ever approach the Doctor. ‘He’s … err ... umm … kinda ... gay.’
‘... Kinda gay?’ Fiona repeated.
‘Well, kinda really gay,’ Rose stumbled out.
Fiona’s hopeful expression instantly fell. ‘Oh. That sucks. Always the good lookin’ ones.’ Her eyes drifted back over to the Doctor. ‘Oh, the things I’d do to that man.’
Rose’s eyes widened a little. ‘Right, nice chattin’. Better get back to my mates,’ she said hastily.
‘Bye!’ Fiona said.
Rose turned, briefly shook her head to try and get out her creeping gutter thoughts, and then went back to meet Martha.
‘Evening!’ the Doctor greeted Terrence as he approached a dark-haired man lurking in the shadows in the corner of the church.
‘Hello,’ the man replied in a deadpan voice, gazing at the Doctor in a slightly intimidating way.
‘Loved your work on the second verse, especially in the rallentando,’ the Doctor told him chirpily, and then offered his hand to shake. ‘Sorry, I’m the Doctor. That should’ve been first, shouldn’t it? Introduction, then conversation. I always get those two mixed up.’
‘Right,’ Terrance said, not taking his hand.
The Doctor deliberately kept his hand level and ready to receive a shake. ‘We just moved into the area. Nice place. You been here long?’
‘No.’
‘Oh?’
Terrance didn’t answer, just staring at the Time Lord with narrowed eyes.
‘Always nice to explore a new place, don’t you reckon?’ the Doctor persisted, unphased. ‘Found a great sweet shop here two streets over. It’s even got those little sherbet spaceship things, what are they called?’
Terrance didn’t reply to that. ‘You talk a lot,’ he told him.
‘Oh, yes, been told that before,’ the Doctor agreed, and then finally lowered his hand. ‘I get the feeling I’m probably annoying you.’
‘Yeah. You are.’
‘Right. Sorry. I’m ... guessing you don’t have a lot of friends.’
‘No, and I don’t want any. Now get lost.’
‘That’s not very Christian,’ the Doctor commented.
‘Who says I’m here for that?’ Terrence snapped, and walked off.
The Doctor gazed after him for a moment, and then left to find his companions.
‘ Very strange,’ Martha told them about Mo when they regrouped. ‘He was avoiding answering the questions about his job. He really didn’t seem like much of a cold-blooded assassin, though.’
‘Why not?’ the Doctor asked.
‘Just because he was so bad at being human and sounded so desperate to make friends,’ Martha told them. ‘He was too … harmless. How was Terrence?’
‘Terrence was the opposite of a social butterfly and kept looking at me like he wanted to kill me,’ the Doctor said, ‘but I don’t think that’s because he shot me last week. Rose?’
‘Yeah, um, I’d avoid Fiona if I was you,’ Rose told him seriously.
‘Really?’
‘She, err … had … a lot of questions about you.’
‘What kinda questions?’
‘Well … Don’t think she wanted to kill ya, more wanted to date ya.’
‘Oh,’ the Doctor said, frowning a little.
‘So we’re still stuck,’ Martha concluded.
‘Yep,’ the Doctor agreed, popping his ‘p’.
‘What do we do?’ Rose asked.
‘We need to find out more about that night, and if anyone was seen entering the belfry,’ the Doctor said. ‘Let’s stick around, sing some songs, and then chat with Carole.’
As the next hymn came to an end, the Doctor suddenly noticed someone hovering among the pews out of the corner of his eye. He looked over and saw a blurry black shape standing right in the middle of the aisle. And it seemed to be looking at him.
Its shape, the Doctor realised, was really quite close to the classic human image of Death and his scythe.
As soon as he’d thought that, the figure suddenly turned, and floated behind the pillar. The Doctor waited, but didn’t see the figure emerge from the other side.
He looked at Rose and Martha again, who were busy . Neither of them had seen it. None of the choir had.
A sharp stinging sensation suddenly fired into the side of his head. He winced a little before his sight and hearing suddenly went haywire. He looked dizzily up at Christine who was suddenly talking in a throbbing, bassy tone, like she was underwater. She was swimming in his vision, with the colours themselves burning brighter than he’d ever seen and merging together in swirling psychedelic patterns.
He was in trouble.
He dispensed with the pamphlet and slipped out of the choir as gracefully as he could manage with his spinning sight, heading with gusto to the toilets. As he passed the pews he checked for the figure, but, of course, there was no one there.
‘The Lord is my Shepherd I shall not want … he maketh me to lie down in green pastures,’ the choir sang as the Doctor made it to the toilet and normal sound resumed, finally letting himself grab hold of the side of his now pounding head. ‘He leadeth me beside the still waters …’
As the choir continued he looked into the mirror, seeing a warped reflection of himself in watercolour form with a very bright and billowing nosebleed. He dropped his hand, and abruptly realised that it was shaking for absolutely no reason. He turned it over to look at his trembling palm, and saw a vivid red smudge of blood on the tips of his fingers where he’d been touching his head.
‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I may fear no evil …’
Slightly shocked, he put his fingers back on the point on the side of his head, and checked again. There was more blood. Not a lot, but it was definitely blood.
Now he knew exactly what was happening. His past was catching up with him.
He was being shot through the head.
‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I can fear no evil …’
‘No, no, no, I’m not ready,’ he gasped without even knowing who he was trying to talk to, casting his eyes up. ‘I need more time!’
Both of his hands were shaking now, and somehow he managed to grab the taps to open them and plunge his face in the torrent. He threw back his head, spraying water and blood all over the floor. It didn’t help.
‘Doctor?’ came Rose’s voice from outside the door.
‘For you are with me, you will comfort me …’
He checked his head again. His fingers were now stained with so much blood he couldn’t see his skin anymore.
‘You are with me, you will comfort me …’
‘Doctor,’ Rose repeated.
‘Rose,’ he managed. ‘Help.’
He hadn’t locked the door so she quickly rushed in, and started panicking at the sight of him leaning on the sink with his hands, head, and face covered in blood. ‘God, what’s happening!?’
He suddenly realised he was now on his knees. How had that happened?
‘Martha!’ Rose screamed, diving to him. ‘Doctor, look at me!’
She grabbed his face and pulled it to her, staring firmly into his eyes. She was swimming in front of him, and within seconds his hearing had gone again as she spoke soundlessly to him. His eyes drifted, unfocused.
She slapped him lightly, forcing him to look back at her.
‘... Look… my face ...’ she said, her voice fading in and out like a badly-tuned radio.
He tried. He really did. He couldn’t.
He closed his eyes.