Doctor Who_ The Algebra of Ice - Lloyd Rose [108]
‘Tea’s fine for a start.’
‘Or chocolate?’
‘Chocolate.’
The chocolate pot appeared, along with mugs and a little table. The Doctor poured. Ethan had to admit it was extraordinary to taste again. Tears pricked at the eyes he didn’t have. ‘This might be a mistake.’
‘No,’ said the Doctor, ‘you’ll remember, but you won’t regret. Trust me.’
‘No choice, is there?’
‘No.’ The Doctor sipped his own chocolate.
‘Are you here – I mean, nearby – or is this some long-distance telepathic thing?’
‘I’m in your hospital room.’
‘Where is it?’
‘I persuaded UNIT to take you in. All agreed you were owed it. You have a private room –’
‘So I won’t repel the neighbours.’
‘– and the best medical care. You don’t look repellent. A bit wasted, obviously, but otherwise as if you were asleep. The nurses shave you.’
‘Hooked up to an IV?’
The Doctor nodded. ‘Actually, your swallowing reflex still works. But there’s a danger you might aspirate.’
‘Can’t have that.’
‘They are trained not to kill people, you know. And it’s not as if you’re being kept alive by machine. The only way for you to go would be if they let you starve. They won’t do that.’
Silence for a bit.
‘How long. . . ?’
‘How long to go or how long has it been?’
‘To go.’
‘Hard to say. Possibly another year. Maybe longer.’
222
The Algebra of Ice
‘And how long. . . ?’
‘Twenty months.’
More silence.
‘Your brother’s been to see you several times.’
‘That’s good of him. We weren’t close. Has. . . ’ Ethan poured himself another cup of chocolate. ‘Has Ace stopped by?’
‘Often. She’s here now. She’s holding your hand.’
Ethan put a hand to his eyes and sat like that for a long time. At least it seemed to him a long time. Finally he said, ‘Can she. . . ’
‘Come in? No. If she could, she’d be here.’
Just as well, thought Ethan, then realised he might as well have spoken. The Doctor nodded, agreeing.
‘How long has it been for the two of you?’
‘I’m not precisely certain. Longer than twenty months.’
‘Had plenty of jolly adventures?’
‘No,’ said the Doctor. ‘Interesting, though. This last one, I visited your moon.
Also my own mind.’
‘How’d you like it?’
‘It wasn’t as nice as yours.’
I dare say not, thought Ethan, then remembered that thinking was talking.
But the Doctor only smiled sadly. ‘You’d think after six previous lifetimes, I’d be better at. . . ’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know. Life. I wish. . . ’ Suddenly the Doctor’s umbrella was there, and he rested his chin on it. ‘Sometimes I wish I could have my memory wiped clean. Start fresh. I was very idealistic in the beginning, and often amusing.
You’d have liked me.’
‘I don’t dislike you. It’s difficult to have any attitude towards you, really.
You’re unknowable. . . How is Ace?’
‘I will always take care of Ace,’ the Doctor snapped. ‘Always. She doesn’t need protecting from me.’
‘Of course she does. We all do. You bring the storm on your back.’
‘Not always.’
‘Always. You’re like any force, sometimes benevolent, sometimes not. You destroy worlds. I was there.’
‘They were as good as dead already.’
‘You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I’m alive because they’re not. So are billions of others.’
Chapter Twenty-eight
223
‘I’m not. . . ’ But the Doctor didn’t finish. Ethan couldn’t hear his thoughts, but they weren’t hard to read. ‘It recognised me, you know.’
‘Knew you were the Doctor?’
‘Knew me for one of it’s own. Sensed the ice in my heart, hearts. I don’t think ice was always there. Perhaps I’m fooling myself.’
‘Ace said there was nothing to bringing you back, that as soon as she found you everything was fine. Is that true?’
‘No.’
‘How did she save you?’
‘How?’ The Doctor smiled. ‘She was alive.’
‘I’m sorry?’ said Ethan. ‘You weren’t dead. Were you?’
‘No. But she. . . She’s strong.’
‘I’m not following this,’ said Ethan, a shade irritably. ‘You’re not strong? All you do is bang around facing danger. Monsters, aliens, monstrous aliens.’
The Doctor said nothing for a while, then he sighed. ‘You know, a playwright of yours, Anton Chekhov, once said something along the lines of, “Any fool can handle