Chapter Text
The TARDIS floated in space, neither here, nor there. The Doctor hadn’t uttered a word since they had said goodbye to Graham and Ryan. Yaz and the Sage shared a worried look. The Doctor glanced up from where she was fiddling with the controls, “And you?” She asked, looking straight at the Sage. “What do you want?”
The Sage cleared his throat, “I think I’d like to stay here, for a while,” he looked at the Doctor and then at Yaz, “If you’ll have me. My people are gone. My planet’s gone. I want to know if there’s anything out there for me.”
The Doctor’s jaw clenched at the mention of Gallifrey’s destruction. She gave a curt nod before turning back to the console.
The Sage let out a breath that he didn’t realise he was holding. He stepped closer to her, “But Doctor, there’s one thing that I need to do first.” His hands hovered over the controls, “If you’ll allow me.” She stood back and raised her hands, letting him have control of the TARDIS. He entered the coordinates quickly without a word and pulled down on the leaver. He turned and made his way towards the doors.
The Doctor eyed the coordinates with a frown, “Here?” She muttered, “Why here?”
It was only a matter of moments before he returned, carrying a small bundle. It brought with it the acrid smell of smoke and a hint of burnt flesh. Yaz gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in an attempt to hold back the bile rising in her throat when she realised what it was that he held in his arms.
The Doctor leaned towards her companion, “What is it?” She whispered.
Yaz turned to her with tears pooling in her eyes, “His daughter,” she choked.
“Oh.”
They watched him reverently put his burden on the steps. Part of the blanket fell away, revealing dark strands of hair and a small hand, half curled into a fist. The Doctor froze, her face resembling marble, as she pushed every thought and emotion far from her mind. Beside her, Yaz let out a little cry and curled into the Doctor’s side. Absently the older woman slung her arm around the teenager, holding her close.
The Sage stared at the controls, unmoving, unsure of where to go. He was going to do the final rites in the meadows behind his house where his daughter loved to play but if the Doctor was right, if the death particle was used, then there would be nothing. No grass, no flowers, no life. It wouldn’t be right; it wouldn’t be what his little girl would have wanted. He didn’t know what to do. He turned to the Doctor, unsure. She was motionless, still staring at the small body that lay lifeless on the floor of her ship.
They stood like that for a while, how long, they didn’t know. It felt as if time had stopped moving, giving them the gift of stillness, a time to mourn. The child represented more than herself, in her was the whole of their race, gone. All potential and hope snuffed out like the life of the small girl, herself. Moments passed, frozen, before the TARDIS let out a soft, sad warbling beep. The time rotor moved up and down, drawing the occupants of the room back to life. All except one. The ship landed, almost hesitantly as if unsure of what her pilots would think, her doors slowly opened.
The Sage turned and walked towards the doors, beyond them lay green fields curving and sweeping up and down in soft waves as far as the eye could see. Peppered throughout the rich grass were wildflowers of a hundred varieties. At the bottom of one of the gentle hills stood a tall grand old willow tree whose branches reached down into the lazy brook that ran alongside it. Its waters were crystal clear. Between its smooth stones that lay along the bottom, little fish flitted to and fro.
“It’s perfect,” the Sage whispered. He moved back towards the console and gave it a grateful pat. She hummed in response. He picked up the child and carried her outside. He laid her at the base of the tree, facing out toward the moving water and rolling fields. When he re-entered the TARDIS, the Doctor was shaken from her stupor and moved to help him. Together they carried out wood and built a pyre. Interwoven amidst the wood and alongside the child were ceremonial fragrance boxes and sticks. Finally, the grieving father rested some of the brightly coloured wildflowers across the child’s chest and placed some in her cold grasp.
Standing back, the Doctor and Yaz let the Sage say the sacred words over her body and light the pyre. For the first time since they arrived, Yaz spoke. She turned to the Doctor, “You would think that with the Master burning everything, he would have chosen a different way to say goodbye,” she commented, out of earshot of the Sage who was watching the flames leap up and crackle.
The Doctor turned to her young friend, “We burn our dead, Yaz. Tradition states that the energy, light, and fragrant smoke of the fire releases the spirit of the one who died and allows them to join with the creation. By following the tradition of our ancestors, he is letting her run and play among the flowers forever.”
Yaz gave the Doctor a watery smile, “That’s beautiful.”
The other woman sighed, “It’s just another way the Master desecrated our home. He burned the planet but with none of the ceremonial practices for the dead. He made a mockery of our traditions and stole them from us.”
Yaz reached out and grabbed the Doctor’s hand, she gave it a comforting squeeze.
The Doctor looked at her, she gave a slight shake of her head before continuing, “Of course, the more probable reason we started burning our dead was to keep them from the rest of the universe. Even one cell of a Time Lord’s body could change the future of a thousand worlds. It was believed that the bodies must be kept from those who’d wish to do us harm.”
Yaz understood that the Doctor was trying to change the course of the conversation, so she turned her gaze back toward the Sage as he watched the fire burn. She then glanced around at the land that surrounded them, “I think she’ll like it here. It’s really lovely.”
Later that evening, when the fire had burnt out, and only ash and charcoal remained the Sage returned to the TARDIS. His cheeks were ashen, and his eyes were rimmed with red. The Doctor reached out and held onto his arm gently, pulling him closer to herself. “Put your hand here,” she said softly, gesturing to an empty panel.
Confused, he complied and placed his palm against the cool metal surface.
“Think about them.”
“What?” He turned to her, pulling his hand away.
The Doctor reached out and pushed his hand back down, “Think about them. A favourite memory, a time when you were all together. Close your eyes and remember.”
He frowned but too exhausted to argue, he did as she asked. He pressed his hand down and thought of their smiles and laughter. He pictured his little girl in the arms of her mother, their smiles brightening up the world around them. As he brought their love and laughter to life within his mind, he could feel the panel heating up underneath his hand. A beeping sound pulled him back into reality. He snatched his hand away before the heated metal could burn him. Clutching it to his chest, he turned questioningly towards the Doctor. In her hand was a picture of his wife smiling with their daughter in her arms.
The Doctor looked at the picture, a slight frown creased her forehead. There was something about the woman that she recognised. She wasn’t sure if it was the curve of her nose, the dimples in her cheeks, or the sparkle in her eyes. The longer she looked, the more the Doctor was certain that she knew the woman, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
The Sage cleared his throat. Startled, the Doctor turned toward him, a soft smile on her lips. Wordlessly she handed the photograph to him.
He looked down at it, “Does it help?” He asked, “The picture, does it help?”
The Doctor tucked her hand into her pocket and felt the worn edges of a small photograph beneath her fingers. She looked up at him, “Yes,” she smiled, “It does.”