Dead of Winter - James Goss [66]
Prince Boris waggled a hand equivocally. ‘So-So,’ he rumbled. ‘The Sea very much wanted the Doctor’s brain. I just found him rather annoying.’
‘He killed my wife,’ murmured Bloom, his voice simple. ‘You told me he would. I wasn’t able to prevent it. I had to do something.’
‘I know,’ Prince Boris sounded bored. ‘You were supposed to shoot him earlier. It’s a bit late now.’
‘Yes,’ said Dr Bloom miserably. ‘Yes.’
The Doctor just lay there on the beach. The initial shock was fading, and I was starting to realise a few troubling things. Funny how selfish you really are. If the Doctor was dead, that meant we were stranded here. Living out the rest of our lives in the past. With no decent plumbing and terrible food and… oh yeah, the French Revolution just about to start. What would we do? How would we make a living? What if the TARDIS turned up – could we get back into it? Would Amy be able to fly it? How would we get back to Leadworth? Was that even where Amy would want to go?
Her pressure on my hand grew. ‘Do something,’ she cried.
Which was, in the circumstances, the least helpful thing she could have said. I mean, what? But my medical training kicked in. I went to his body, rolling it over. It was amazing how neat that little bullet hole was, how pale the Doctor’s face was. Strange – I’ve never seen his face at rest before. Even when he’s thinking hard, or staring at you, his face is moving, alive. But this wasn’t. It was dead.
I felt his heart. And then his other one. The other annoying, impossibly wrong one. Nothing. There was no point to any of this. Gunshot to the head.
I even found myself giving him artificial respiration. Funny that – kissing the Doctor. Really, you know, should have been Amy. Kissing him goodbye. But maybe, just maybe – I mean, he was an alien. Maybe he didn’t keep his brain in his head. Maybe that was where he kept an appendix or something else a bit useless. Maybe he was fine. Just needed a bit of TLC, bringing back to life.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
I felt Amy’s hand on me. Gentler this time. Just resting on my shoulder. She was crying.
‘Rory,’ she sniffed. ‘It’s OK. You can stop.’
But I didn’t. Not for a bit.
Eventually, I stood up, letting Amy wrap her arms around me. We looked at the Doctor’s body.
‘Bet this isn’t what he had in mind,’ I said.
Amy sniffed, almost laughing.
Prince Boris was still standing there, gently amused by the whole thing. Wasn’t it Russians who made bears fight each other? Have I got that one wrong?
That look on his face – bored triumph. That was what did it.
I decided – This wasn’t the end.
I’d had the Doctor in my head. I knew what heroes did. It was time to be one.
What Amy Remembered
I love Rory Williams.
He stood up to The Sea. He picked up the Doctor by the shoulders and he turned to The Sea and he shouted, ‘Heal him! Go on! Heal him!’
Rory started hauling the Doctor into the surf, the waves dragging around him. I ran to him and we both held the Doctor up while The Sea surged around us, the water green and greedy. Lights boiled under the surface.
We kept the Doctor there, limp in our arms, feeling the fog press in, The Sea tug and drag at him.
‘Heal him!’ Rory yelled again, and this time I joined in.
‘Go on! He’s what you’ve been after all this time! Do it!’ I waited a second and then added, a bit lamely, ‘Please.’
I hoped it was going to be all right. I really hoped it was going to be all right.
Remember that dog that got run over? I can still see the van driver cradling it and saying the same thing over and over, really desperately hoping that it was all going to be OK.
Now here’s Amy Pond, standing in the freezing ocean, holding the dead body of her imaginary friend, and shouting at the sea to make him better.
Yeah. If only my therapists could see me now.
That was it for a bit. I could sense that Prince Boris and Dr Bloom were watching us. Prince Boris was probably amused – you know, in that ‘English people are sooo funny’ way of his. Dr Bloom looked like the lights were off and no one was home