Doctor Who_ History 101 - Mags L. Halliday [100]
Fitz leaned back. It always came down to this. The Doctor trusted him. The Doctor needed him. He couldn’t let the Doctor down. Not ever. The Doctor was the brains, the instinct, the one who could make the hard decisions. And he wasn’t here for Fitz to question in person. History isn’t just a list of events, it’s how they are perceived. He pushed himself more upright, glanced at Sasha’s face.
‘OK. I don’t like it, but I’ll try.’ Fitz gestured for the Russian to move out of the way, swung his legs round and tried to get out of the car. The ground continued to swirl under him for a moment. ‘OK, I’ll try, if you can just give me a hand as far as the TARDIS.’
Sasha hurried to get a hand under his bad arm, swung the good one over his shoulder. Getting out of the car became a chorus of cursing, as various elbows and heads bumped on the framework. Once out, Sasha shifted his grip to around Fitz’s waist and they stumbled the few feet to the doors of the TARDIS. Fitz leant against it, feeling the cool almost-wood under his forehead. Sasha ran his hand down it gently, cautiously.
‘You travel in this? Seems a little...’
‘Try “quirky”. Also “eccentric” and “deliberately kitsch”.’ Fitz put out his good hand, fumbling for the tiny metal handle to the emergency phone’s cubby hole. His fingers seemed too clumsy to pull on it. Eventually he got hold of it, pulled. It clicked open and he picked up the cool plastic handset from its hook. The Doctor had said something in the hotel. Something about the TARDIS having connected to the telephone system and then shut down. Anji had been adding a grumbling commentary at the time and Fitz had been so buzzed from being back with their bickering that he hadn’t paid attention to what they were actually saying. The TARDIS had been hooked up to the system? He vaguely remembered the Doctor had explained the phone once, or rather his theory as to why the TARDIS actually had a phone in there. He’d muttered something about a powerful direct interface with the powers that drove the time machine, primitive and raw. Which made the fact it had a regular dialling tone hum, even now with all the power down, all the more unnerving. Not to mention the fact that Fitz wasn’t sure the Doctor’s speculation was even remotely correct.
Fitz got another wave of nausea when he tried to straighten.
‘Fitz? Are you sure you should be doing this? I mean, I get the idea this is a pretty dangerous and you’re, well, you are looking very shaky.’
‘I’m fine.’ But he could feel a hot wave wash over him, flushing across him. He fell to a crouch, holding his back against the shell of the time machine. Sasha crouched before him, put a cool hand on his cheek.
‘You are not “fine”, Fitz. You are unwell. You have been through too much recently. When did you last sleep properly? I won’t let you do this. You’d not be using the TARDIS, you’d be using the System and it’s too dangerous. Even assuming you make it through, you’ll be too weak to achieve anything.’
Sasha took the receiver out of Fitz’s unresisting hand. Fitz glanced up, but was disturbed by how little he could see. He realised the Russian had a thin strip of paper in his hand, the whiteness gleaming in the gloom. He realised he had heard a couple of clicks as the first digits were input, the whurr as the ancient dial spun back into place.
‘No!’ He pulled himself using Sasha’s arm, tried to grab the handset. ‘You’re just a regular guy, Sasha. It’s too risky.’
Sasha unhooked Fitz’s grip, pushed him aside and Fitz realised with horror that his legs were falling under him.
‘So are you, Fitz. Or do you think you have to be special to do what you do?’
More numbers, more whurrs. Fitz wondered why Sasha’s accent was less pronounced now. ‘You’re too weak, I can see that now.’ The Russian was crouching in front of him, holding the receiver under one ear with his shoulder, reaching out to clasp Fitz’s neck, making him look directly at him. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m