Doctor Who_ The Infinity Doctors - Lance Parkin [128]
He would need to know.
She stepped down from the console dais and walked from the control loom. The master bedroom was nearby, the door was open.
Larna walked in, expecting him to be asleep there, where she had left him. The bed was empty, except for the white cotton sheets laid curled and twisted at the foot of the four-poster and the pillows at broken angles to the headboard.
She turned as he emerged from the shadows behind her, doing up the last button of a high-collared black jacket, hiding the crisp white shirt beneath. He didn’t have his – the Doctor’s – glasses on. Was that vanity, or an indication that he didn’t need them?
He picked up pair of leather gloves, but after a moment it seemed he had decided against wearing them. ‘Those are the Magistrate’s clothes,’ she chided him.
‘You took the ones I had been wearing,’ the Doctor’s voice reminded her lightly.
‘I’m sorry,’ she began, looking down at the cashmere jacket, feeling a twinge of guilt.
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ he said, his arm snaking around her waist. ‘They suit you much better than me.’
She looked at his new outfit. The clothes were severe, neat, and this man in the Doctor’s body didn’t look like the Doctor at all. ‘Yours are also fitting,’ she said.
He kissed her cheek. ‘Barefoot again,’ he noted, a little coldly.
‘You know your shoes don’t –’ she began. ‘How did you know about before? You have his body, do you have the Doctor’s memories as well?’
His mouth curled. ‘No. The breach in spacetime allowed me to observe the matter universe, and I had special interest in the Doctor.’
‘You watched us?’ Larna asked, her hand instinctively rising to cover her chest.
‘I observed much of the universe,’ he said. ‘I saw the three suns of the Sigimund Galaxy aligning to form the Aurora Arctialis, I saw the spinning of leptons, the formation of gemstones, the birth of kings, the preparation of great banquets.’ He paused. ‘I saw it, but I was condemned not to touch nor smell nor taste it…’ he looked around the small, dark room as if it was the summit of the highest mountain, glorying in every detail. For the briefest moment, he was the Doctor again.
‘We’ll be landing in about ten minutes,’ she said.
He nodded, as if he had already known.
‘Do we need to prepare?’
‘No.’ He laid the gloves down on the bed.
The garden was monochrome with a pastel wash.
The tree was darker, almost black. The Doctor looked up admiringly at it, and then decided to climb it. Balancing was easy, he found a branch that was easily thick enough for him to perch on it and for it to support his weight.
From this vantage point, the Doctor could see the plan of the hedgerows and flower beds, straight lines and perfect order for almost as far as the eye could see. On the horizon, though, he could see that the garden was surrounded by a high stone wall. Outside the walls was moorland, flat and empty. Beyond that was the sea, it was just possible to see it glinting and hear it crashing. The night’s sky above them was full of stars arranged in unfamiliar constellations.
This wasn’t a prison, and he didn’t want to leave.
The Doctor ran his hands along the rough, ancient bark of the tree trunk. How long it had stood, what history it had seen, how many other lovers had fallen into blissful sleep in its evening shade?
He knew that the answer was none.
This tree had stood for less than a day, if it stood at all.
This was a figment of his imagination. All the signs of weathering, any initials he found carved in the bark, or branches that had snapped off in winter storms were simply put there by his unconscious mind to convince him that this was real. For some reason, the thought made him uneasy, and he decided to climb down from the tree.
Who was to say that it was any different anywhere else?
The past didn’t exist, only the memory of the past. Perhaps the past was necessitated by the present, and not vice versa.
It was only the first night, but a number of centuries had already preceded it.
If time was an illusion, then what did that make