Doctor Who_ Camera Obscura - Lloyd Rose [90]
It was very quiet, quieter than anything Fitz had ever experienced in the countryside in the twentieth century, not that he’d spent much time there. Occasionally an owl hooted, or some other nightbird called. Panicked rustles in the bracken indicated they’d startled a rabbit. The Doctor walked quickly, his hands in his pockets, as if he had some purpose in mind, though Fitz couldn’t imagine what that would be. But he felt obscurely that he ought to stick with him. Watch his back, so to speak.
In fact... Fitz stopped and turned, but saw nothing. Hadn’t he heard something? Another step besides his own and the Doctor’s? But the only sound was the faint stir of the wind in the bracken. Embarrassed at his jumpiness, he hurried to catch the Doctor, who had strode obliviously ahead. Probably lost in his thoughts, which, if you were the Doctor, was a big place to get lost in. Watching his back, literally – the set shoulders and stiff spine – Fitz was suddenly sure of something. He increased his pace till they were side by side.
‘You’ve got a plan.’
The Doctor didn’t look round. ‘Have I?’
‘A cunning plan.’
The Doctor smiled that faint, distant smile. ‘A fiendish plan.’
‘You have, haven’t you?’
The Doctor sighed, and Fitz was suddenly sure of something else, something he’d rather not be sure of.
‘I’m not going to like it, am I?’
The Doctor didn’t answer, only increased his pace. They were walking up the base of the tor, weaving among the rocks. ‘What is it?’
‘Fitz...’ said the Doctor.
There was a helpless note in his voice that struck Fitz cold. He grabbed the Doctor’s arm, spun him around. ‘What is it!’ The Doctor’s face was bleak as the stones around them. Fitz let go of him, and he immediately turned and walked away.
‘Wait,’ said Fitz. ‘Don’t.’ But he didn’t know what he was asking. He ran to catch up again. The Doctor waited for him on a grassy plateau. Fitz stopped beside him, catching his breath. The Doctor was gazing at the moor, stretched serenely below them in the moonlight. Fitz gave it a desultory glance.
‘Feels funny admiring the view when the world’s going to end.’
‘It’s still beautiful,’ the Doctor said matter-of‐factly. ‘Look down – no, on the ground, beneath our feet.’ Fitz looked. ‘Do you see it?’
Faint scars seemed to mar the grass. Looking more closely, Fitz saw stone remains, worn level with the ground, forming a barely discernable circle.
‘Iron Age,’ said the Doctor. ‘This was once a village. Time,’ he added vaguely. ‘Things come and go.’
‘Bit banal,’ said Fitz. He was still uneasy and a little angry. The Doctor shrugged.
‘Well,’ he said, equally vaguely. ‘Language...’
He sat on a broad flat stone and after a moment Fitz sat beside him. The piled heights of the tor rose darkly behind them, an ogre’s castle.
‘Sabbath is dangerous,’ said the Doctor.
‘You know, I’d gathered that.’
‘I’m serious,’ the Doctor snapped. ‘He’s finally deigned to tell me in full about his theory of time, and it’s lunatic.’
‘You mean really wrong? I didn’t think he was stupid.’
‘Not entirely wrong, but idiotically mis-applied. He believes...’ The Doctor trailed off, eyes still on the moor. ‘Well, it’s complicated, but essentially what he believes, if applied practically, would be ruinous for the web of time.’
‘Well,’ said Fitz carefully, ‘that’s a bit academic, isn’t it? I mean, we’ve already got one whopping great threat to the web of time to deal with. Seems to me Sabbath has to join the queue.’
The Doctor waved a hand impatiently. ‘He has to be dealt with, Fitz.’
‘Not if the universe comes apart, being as he’ll come apart too. Not to mention us. Don’t you think you have enough to worry –’
‘Dealt with! Do you understand what I mean?’
Fitz stared at the set, white profile. He’s lost it, he thought. The strain’s made him bonkers. Because the Doctor would never suggest what the Doctor seems to be suggesting. He stood up.
‘Let’s go back.’ The Doctor didn’t respond. ‘Seriously, it’s late. It’ll be dawn soon. You need some rest.’
The Doctor glared at him. ‘Don’t patronise