Title: Falls the Shadow

Author: Nemo the Everbeing

oOo oOo Chapter 13: This is the Way the World . . . oOo oOo

Imagine, if you will, a lavender planet hanging in space, delicately rotating around a yellow sun. The planet has a moon of pale jade rock. When light reflects off its surface it bathes the world in ghostly green.

For some time (no time in the cosmic scheme of things, of course, but as the galactic standard chronometer flies, some time) this gem dangling in the vast sea of the galaxy has been disappearing. Since the tectonic plates shifted millennia before, remote posts of land were set up amidst the purple water. These places, once colored brown and ringed with bright blue, have for some time been turning black. It started in negligible dots, and then the dots took shape in their pointillist way, until large areas of one small continent were blackened. Then the corrosion spread along the island chains to another land mass, and then another. The entire planet has some sort of rot.

All but the purple seas. These remain strangely clear, and the eyes which watch these sorts of things are puzzled by this. Because this sort of incursion has happened before. Not just on Mirocongia, but since the universe began, some planets have been winked out by the black.

Never before, though, has an entire part of a planet been immune to the effects of the lightless universe. Never before has there been a resistance which has succeeded. At first, these eyes credited the presence of one intrepid individual for this success, but they were incorrect. What they could sense from him did not feel like victory. Rather, they felt within him that inexplicable acceptance that Time Lords have for the inevitable. Death had caught up with this one at last, and was shaking his hand for a chase well run. Death, of course, always wins the games, but it does love an opponent who refuses to give up.

The eyes puzzle, but do not move. They require further information.

Now zoom in. The planet is no longer a bauble blotched with tar; it swells and becomes a recognizable world with oceans, continents, mountain ranges, ice caps. And living beings, such as the blue haired natives of the ground who crowd their shorelines and think themselves alone and doomed. But they are not alone. Fish that move like Muthi interstellar gas dirigibles billow up from the depths of those oceans for the first time in their unspeakably long lives. They break the surface and call epics to the others through the air.

The darkness shudders. There are sub-sonic frequencies in these songs that resonate harshly within the lightless universe. The ultra-bass tones keep the corrosion from spreading into the sea.

And there are other things that live in the ocean. These beings look up from the depths with a thousand pairs of luminous eyes and understand the lightless universe better than most. Understand it enough to feel the need to put it back where it belongs. This is, after all, their world too.

The song of the great fish is familiar to these oceanic beings; as familiar as the affectionate greeting of a neighbor. The song has always kept the oceans safe, and always will, but alone the song can do no more. It cannot drive the blackness away. What is needed is power, amplification. This can be done.

The amplifiers used by these beings are complex. They use the ocean itself to transmit their sounds quickly and with minimal attenuation. These amplifiers have never been pointed towards the surface (a place many of them believe to be mythical), but as the great fish swim upwards and the beings on the bottom feel the first shivers of the lightless universe encroach on their world, they focus those amplifiers towards their murky sky. They use all the power they have to capture the sounds of the fish and put forth the same sounds even louder. All over the planet, cities at the bottom of the oceans turn their faces and their technology to the heavens.

The lightless universe holds against the disruptive frequencies for several seconds, and the planet winks out, its stratosphere lost to the darkness.

The eyes watching all of this move in to take care of the situation through the only means they have devised.

The first point of light is unexpected. It appears as a fissure along the darkness; a point where matter of both universes has become so excited it burns. Then, like a fire rushing through dry grasses, a white blaze sweeps across the planet: point to point, crack to crack. For a brief instant the solar system has a second sun. The watching eyes close at its splendor.

And then the light is gone. The darkness is gone. The eyes open once more, survey the planet a final time, and then leave. There is nothing more for them to see.

They don't particularly care about the fate of two huddled beings on the beach.

oOo oOo oOo oOo

The sun was bright in the morning sky, warming the white sands even under the shallow lavender water. The tide had come in as it always did. Dark blonde hair was caught in its flow and ebb, weaving signs and sigils around the body to which it was attached. The body—that of a human female—had lain in the shallows all through the previous night and on into the new morning. As the sun had risen higher, the waters around her had turned blue.

A tiny, bug-eyed fish swam up to inspect the woman, whose head was half-immersed in the leading edge of the tide, face-up. As waves drifted in and out, the water rose up and down her cheeks. The fish swam in close and, with the delicacy of a gourmand, sucked on an earlobe.

Ace opened her eyes, then squinted against the glare of the sun. She reached up and shooed the fish away with a gentle sweep of her hand, then sat up and looked at it darting away through the shallows. "Little creatures," she whispered to herself.

She turned and looked at the Doctor. He was either awake or asleep with his eyes open. Either way, he was looking directly into the sun.

"You shouldn't do that," she murmured. "It's bad for your eyes."

"I have immensely resilient eyes."

She looked down at him, at the placid look on his face. "We didn't die," she said.

"I had noticed that."

"Why didn't we die?"

He continued to stare up into the sun. "Because this planet, apparently, didn't need us to sort out its problems."

"That's a new one."

"Yes. I rather like it."

"The people are gone."

"They went back into the city when the sun came out again."

"And we were just anonymous lumps in the surf, were we?"

"I have to admit, I rather like that too."

Ace looked out over the purple ocean. The great fish had long since departed, leaving a palpable absence in their wake. With the people gone as well, she felt almost as though they had beached on some unknown and uninhabited shore. Their very own desert island.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes, his expression thoughtful. He sat up. They were both soaked through, but the shallows were warm. Warmer than the air even, and Ace shivered. Her plait had come out, and her hair hung dripping down her back.

"I seem to remember that we started all this soaked, as well," the Doctor said. He hesitated and then said, "We could stay a few more days. Have a real holiday."

Ace arched a brow. "Yeah, this is a real hotspot. Think of it. Strolling down streets that were filled with infovores only yesterday. That'd be relaxing. Especially when the authorities manage to clear the dead bodies and rubble away. And then we can head back to the hotel. Maybe—if we're really lucky—we can avoid having visions of our own horrific deaths."

"Well . . ." the Doctor said, sounding abashed.

Ace continued, "And even if all that works out, I'll still be sitting up nights waiting to see a pair of little girls standing at the end of a hall saying 'Come play with us'."

The Doctor made a confused noise.

"The Shining again."

"Ah. If you keep referencing it, I think we might need to go and see it. Maybe even attend the premiere. What year was it released?"

"We could do that. In about five years, when I'm not ready to crawl out of my skin with the creeps." Ace shook her head, and water droplets fell about her in glittering arcs. "The point I was trying to make is that this planet is not currently topping my list of desirable getaways."

"Somewhere else, then?" he ventured. Before she could say anything, he held up his hands and added, "Somewhere that doesn't involve The Shining. I promise."

Ace had to chuckle at that. It felt nice, if tinged with resignation. She said, "Face it, Professor. There's nowhere in the real universe we can go without mayhem dogging our footsteps. The only way we'll be able to grab a break is to park in the vortex and take the phone off the hook."

"We'll have to send Terrin home first."

"Good point."

He cocked his head and regarded her with a penetrating gaze. "And is that what you want?"

Ace stood up, looking out over the horizon. With her back turned on the city, the planet still looked idyllic. She drew a deep breath because that was the thing to do when standing on a shore looking at the sea. Unfortunately, this prompted a minor coughing fit, because the air was filled with dust and the smell of burning from the city behind them. Ace got her breathing under control and wiped the moisture from her eyes. She remembered the way the rifts had torn structures apart, moved sections of them, carried them along. When the rifts had been destroyed, where had that left the infrastructure of the city? She wasn't sure she wanted to know. Another reason to cut the 'holiday' short . . .

It made her wonder whether the Shadowmen had been a coincidental occurrence that would have happened here with or without the presence of a TARDIS, or whether the Doctor had somehow brought the turmoil with him, just as she'd remarked before all of this began. She'd been with him long enough to see the patterns. Sometimes it seemed that all the bad stuff in the universe really was his faithful shadow. Maybe there was even a point to this. Maybe the universe wanted good to win in the end and knew the Doctor could make it happen. There was no way of knowing; ancient universal forces weren't about to take her to one side and explain their motivations over tea and biscuits. But the hypothesis seemed workable, not to mention infinitely preferable to the idea that the Doctor was just unlucky with his mayhem-magnetism.

Ace smiled a wistful, small smile and said, "I say we dematerialize, set ourselves adrift, and see what happens." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as he stepped up to join her, looking out over the waves. Now that the crisis was past and they had time to slow down, there were other issues to resolve. She hadn't forgotten what the Doctor had said as they'd waited for death yesterday. The question was, had he said it because they'd been facing death, or had he worked through the post-kissing terror and decided to embrace this newfound relationship? Did they even have a newfound relationship? Could she have heard the words, but still got hold of the wrong end of the stick? Because technically the Doctor had indicated both ways.

Perhaps it was time to stop dwelling on what he was thinking and doing and indicating. At the end of the world, the only thing she'd needed to say was, 'I love you.' Maybe the whole thing was doomed to failure, but even so, she realized that she wanted to make the most of it. This was a risk she was willing to take. Now the ball was in the Doctor's court.

She shot him another glance and saw that he was staring out over the ocean. His tone was soft and musing when he said, "My calculations were inconclusive."

"Your what?"

"My calculations. I was attempting to determine whether or not I'm in love with you, but given the available data, I couldn't quantify it."

Ace laughed. The Doctor looked slightly affronted. "You tried to quantify love?" she asked. How could she explain this? How could she make him see that not everything was scientific? Some things simply had to be experienced. Sometimes you had to accept that you wouldn't ever understand the whys and wherefores. Could the Doctor even grasp that concept? "Professor," she said, deciding that the only approach was the direct one, "nobody, not even you, can do that. You're either in love or you aren't."

"Yes, but how can you tell?"

She took a step toward him, once again closing the gap, and she put a hand on his shoulder, close to the collar. One of her fingers rested on the skin of his neck. "Do you want to know how?" she asked.

"Yes."

"All right. How do you feel when you catch sight of me unexpectedly?"

He looked confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

So this wasn't going to be as easy as it might have been. Ace was ready for that. "Consider it an experiment." When his confusion didn't abate much, she took her hand off his shoulder and said, "Just answer the questions, okay?"

Still unconvinced, the Doctor muttered, "Oh, very well," and put on his pedantic look. "I feel surprised, I suppose, as it's unexpected."

First question down, and not a great response. Ace wasn't about to give up, though. "What about when I'm not around? Do you think about me?"

"Of course."

Better, that. Time for something a bit more personal. "And do you worry I won't ever come back?"

He glanced away from her and said, "Every time you go."

"Why?"

"Sorry?"

"Why do you worry?"

His pedantic look had been fading steadily as they'd gone further into personal questions. Now his brow was furrowed with thought, and his eyes were distant. Maybe he was hunting for answers in places he hadn't looked for a long time. "I'd miss you," he concluded. "You know that."

Right. No question left but the big one. "And how did you feel when we kissed?"

As expected, his expression shuttered for several seconds. When it opened up a little, he had that searching expression again. It also had a strained quality, as though he was pushing the boundaries of what he was capable of expressing and feeling. "I . . . I don't know," he whispered. His eyes pleaded with her to leave it at that.

It wasn't going to happen. "Try again."

Her words were a lit match to petrol fumes, and the Doctor's frustration flared into life. "I can't!" he exploded, looking directly at her. "Don't you understand? I don't have a reference point! I can't make sense of what I felt, because these things don't have names!"

She didn't let herself think. She just grabbed him by the lapels and kissed him. It started out as angry as the first kiss they'd shared, but in seconds it melted into something gentler and infinitely more passionate. After a while, she forced herself to draw back, leaving one hand on his shoulder. The Doctor remained standing, his eyes closed and his head bowed. Ace said, "Sodding well try."

"Confusion. Uncertainty, terror, worry." His mouth worked soundlessly for a few seconds, then his eyes opened, shock and realization clear in them. "Excited. Warm." He sagged. "Good."

She smiled. "And if I told you I loved you?"

"You already did," he said.

Despite her resolve, Ace still felt flustered. "So you did hear that."

His lips twitched in something approaching a smile. "Very resilient eyes. Very keen ears."

"And when I said it?" She didn't think she had to prompt him further.

He nodded. "Terror," he repeated. Then he sighed. "And excited. And worried. And good."

"Well," she said, "I'm at least convinced you're fond of me."

"I've always been fond of you."

"Hmm. But being in love . . . that's one of the universe's intangibles. There's no simple answer. No formula or proof."

"Oh." He sounded disappointed. Then he peered at her. "Then why all the questions?"

She shrugged. "Just an excuse, really. A chance to hear you say nice things."

His head tilted back and he tried to look stern. "Manipulative," he accused.

"So? You don't have the monopoly."

His stern look cracked with an affectionate smile. "So what do we do now?"

Ace let her fingers creep up his collar and run a light caress over his neck. He shivered and she felt a certain sense of empowerment. "Now?" she asked. "What can I say, Professor? I want to try. I want to spend some time together and see where this takes us."

"Adrift," he said.

"Adrift."

"Adrift seems appropriate," he said. "Something quiet and unknown."

"And really quite lovely if you've got the eyes to see it."

The Doctor regarded her in an odd way. Ace, with her dripping, salt-encrusted hair, her makeup-less face, her soaked and clinging clothes including one soggy armored vest. "Yes," he said. "Yes, it is."

She took his hand. He stepped in close and pressed a quick, gentle kiss against her lips. Then he started walking. Ace followed. Their footsteps were imprinted and then washed away as they made for the cove and the TARDIS.

"Adrift," the Doctor said once more, and he sounded content.