Chapter Text
Recovery from the War
Once upon a time, there was a fantastic man. And this man was faced with a difficult choice. To end a never-ending war, he would have to destroy everything he called home. While he wasn’t alone in this choice, he couldn’t remember a single person who stood beside him. All he could recall was the screams of pain, as he watched his planet die by his hand. There are some scars that are too difficult to heal alone.
The corridor of the Tardis was dark and gloomy upon Arty’s arrival. Her eyes roamed all the details of the path but couldn’t determine where she landed. Debris littered the floor of the hallway, crisis crossing like pick up sticks. The soft amber glow of the Tardis walls pulsed in a slow solemn rhythm. Arty gingerly stepped between each small gap in the floors piled high with wreckage. She stopped at a crossroad and turned her head to the console room on the left. The room appeared as if it had been ripped apart in a fit of rage. Sections of the console sprawled about on the metal catwalk. The time rotor was completely exposed, and the glass laid shatter along the door frame. It appeared as though someone was trying to purposely destroy the Tardis’ ability to fly. While the room generally resembled the ninth Doctor’s control room, the outer walls still had the large round things, rather than the small circular patterns that they would later morph into. It looked like the Tardis was frozen in transition between two different desk top models: the War Doctor’s and the Ninth’s.
Arty’s eyes scanned the room, only to freeze on a figure that was sprawled on the upper bunk bed landing by the door. It was a broad-shouldered man with short black hair and floppy ears. Cuts lined the entirety of his visible arms. While some were thin and appeared accidental, others were jagged with self-loathing. Arty took a deep shuddering breath, as she looked at the man she loved ripped to pieces. “Doctor?” Arty whispered.
“I don’t know how you could have possibly got in here, but that’s not my name.” The man grunted in an apathetic response. “Considering I’ve entrapped myself in the void, you must be a hallucination here to cause me more pain.”
Arty sighed in sorrow, cautiously making her way over to the landing. The ladder to the upper platform had also been ripped off its frame, so Arty used the column as way to shimmy herself up onto the platform. Kneeling by the Doctor’s feet she could see his form more clearly. Dark bruises extended out from his eyes. Grime and oil covered every molecule of his clothes and body. Black shirt and ripped black pants hung off his starved frame. The only dash of color on his form was the red of his blood dripping off some of the harsher cuts upon his forearms. She gently placed her hand on his ankle. He reeled back in alarm from her physical touch. The Doctor scooted away until his back was pressed against the orange column that ended the small platform. Arty gently placed her hands on the floor in a show of innocence. The Doctor’s eyes scrutinized her like a wounded animal. “I promise you, Theta. I mean you no harm. Can you please come down with me from the platform? So I can check you over in the Med Bay.”
The Doctor’s muscles stayed coiled tightly, ready to pounce. His eyes racked over her frame, assessing her strengths versus his. His shoulders coiled forward in defeat. If she blinked, she would have missed his small nod in agreement. Moving slowly, as to not startle him, she climbed down to the console deck. Each of his downward movements were measured and tensed. On the last step down from the column, the Doctor’s foot slipped. He stumbled back into Arty’s arms. Once he regained his surroundings, he shoved her away pressing his back against the pillar. Arty swung her arms to try and stay vertical but failed. She plopped back onto one of the desk rims, hearing it crack upon her landing. The two eyes stayed trained on each other, each waiting for the other to move. Slowly as possible, Arty climbed to her feet and began weaving amongst the debris. She could hear the cautious steps of the Doctor following her path. At the door to the Med Bay, Arty gently pushed the door open then stepped to the side to let the Doctor take the first step at his own pace. The man’s eyes flicked between her and the door. With a shuddering breath, he walked in and sat on the first bed inside. With a sigh of relief, Arty followed inside and began gathering supplies.
Setting a bowl of fresh water on a table by the bed, she picked up a fresh cloth and got to work. Feeling a little like Belle from Beauty and the Beast, she began removing the fresh and crusted blood from his arms. The Doctor periodically hissed when she hit a tender place. After his arm was clear, she spread a disinfectant cream along every cut before securely wrapping gauzes up the length of his arms. With the last piece of medical tape, Arty delicately rested the Doctor’s arm against his side. “Theta, tell me what happened?” The man sat in silence staring off into the distance. “Why are you torturing yourself?”
“Cause it’s all my fault?”
“What is?”
“I’m the reason they are all gone.”
Arty released a shuddering breath. “The Time Lords?”
“Yes.”
“You did what had to be done. Nothing could have saved them and stopped the Daleks. The needs of the many out way the needs of the few.”
“No, I could have done better!” The Doctor bellowed staring directly at her.
“Yeah, and I’m Mary Poppins. In not trying to be cruel but….” Arty took a deep breath.” Theta, you are an incredible man. I’ve seen you do things that no other has achieved. You’ve saved people that had no hope of survival prior. But despite that you sure as hell aren’t a miracle worker. Gallifrey was facing near annihilation already, and if you hadn’t had used the moment…The Dalek’s would have just moved on to the next planet, then the next. Nothing would have stood between them and the universe.” Arty placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “You are the reason the universe still exists today. Why children on Earth laugh and play without a care in the world. Why thousands of species throughout the galaxy aren’t hidding away at home waiting for the Daleks or the Cyberman to show up rip their world apart. You may not see your worth Theta, but I do? You might not want to call yourself the Doctor, but you always have and always will be him to me.” The man stared at her with no response. Arty sighed in defeat, gave him a brief peck on the check, before leaving.
*******TIME SKIP*******
Arty eyebrows furled as she twisted the panel back and forth trying to determine its orientation. With a huff, she lowered the piece and glared at the console. “Sexy, why does your console always have to be so complicated. Even with a manual, I don’t think I could put this back together.” The floor hummed beneath her feet. Her eyes darted to the left as a dial she had just put back popped off and tumbled to the floor. Arty huffed in frustration.
While her eyes were trained on the errant dial, she felt the panel get gingerly pulled from her hands. Her head whipped around to find the Doctor with the piece of metal resting in his hands. He weaved between the debris to the other side of the console. Rearranging a couple misplaced mechanisms, he lays the board back into position and presses until it clicks into place. Their eyes meet from opposite sides of the console. It’s not an agreement, but it is an understanding. Over the next few days, the two worked silently in tandem, reassembling the console with the parts that could be reused. When night came, Arty would guide the Doctor from the room to his bed to rest. By the time she would arise in the morning, he would already be in the console room back to work. As Arty was placing the glass back over the time rotor, the Doctor cleared his throat from where he laid beneath the far side of the console.
“Is this grief always so crushing, or does it get better?”
A gentle smile grows on Arty’s lips. “It’s gets better. I promise, but there will be a long road ahead of you. There will be good days and bad, but that’s okay. As long as you always have hope.”
“I never did ask. Are you some manifestation of the Tardis? I ignored enough of her zaps, I figured she would eventually find someway to slap some sense into me.”
Arty chuckled. “Something like that, but you can call me Arty.”
He paused; eyebrows furled before giving a firm nod. “And you can call me the Doctor.” A full-blown smile broke out on Arty’s face. The Tardis warbled in agreement.
The pair silently went back to what they were doing. As Arty was tightening a bolt on the glass cover of the time rotor, she heard a metallic groan and curse from the other side. A pop echoed through the room followed by the sound of rushing liquid. The Doctor scrambled to his feet covered from head to toe in blue oil. Arty bit her lip but couldn’t contain herself. She busted into laughter filled with tears. The Doctor’s scowl flitted between her and the oil that continued to gush onto the grated floor. A mischievous smirk crept onto his face. He cupped his hand under the running liquid before stalking around the ring. Arty’s eyes got wide in alarm, before darting off towards the hallway. The Doctor caught her at the bottom of the stairs, pouring the mysterious liquid over her head. Arty froze in surprise. Slowly she turned around with narrowed eyes, took a deep breath, then darted past him to the hose. She whipped around to point it straight at him. The two wrestled over the hose, until the oil slowly petered out. The two giggled at how ridiculous they both looked. Blue fluids dripped from both of their clothing.
“We should probably go shower before we track anymore of this stuff through the Tardis. She wouldn’t be happy with that.” Arty chuckled.
*******TIME SKIP*******
Arty scrubbed a towel through her hair as she rounded the corridor into the console room. The Ninth Doctor stood at the console in all his glory, placing the last cover back into place. The baggy black leather jacket hung from his shoulders. Over the past few weeks that they had been reassembling the Tardis, Arty had been coaxing him into eating with her. His hallow checks began to fill out and regain a healthy glow. The purple shirt hugged every muscle hidden beneath the baggy jacket. She was so proud of how far he had come.
“So now that we aren’t covered in random Tardis fluids, how do you feel about seeing how she runs?”
“Please never say Tardis fluids again, it just sounds wrong. But let’s go! Where do you want to go?” Arty plopped on the jump seat.
“How about something simple? London in the early 21st century. Just a shopping trip to relax. And replace your clothes I just destroyed?”
“You do know the Tardis has a giant closet, right? I could probably find an exact replica with no issues knowing her. But I like simple so sure.” The Doctor nodded firmly, before entering the coordinates. “Any reason you picked that time and location?” He remained quiet considering his answer.
“Promise you won’t ever leave me.” The Doctor whispered holding his breath.
“I promise.” Arty replied instinctually, not thinking of which Doctor she was talking to. “But what does that have do with it?”
“I got a distress call on the psychic paper…. I can’t begin to fix what I’ve done to Gallifrey, but maybe by dedicating my life to saving others, I can atone… at least a little bit.”
“Oh, Doctor if that’s something you need to do to feel closure. I will be right by your side.” The Doctor smiled gently, then pulled the final lever to send them off into space. As Arty sat on the jump seat, with eyes trained on the time rotor, moving up and down, she felt a gentle tug on her gut before she blinked out of existence.