The Time of Change

Getting It Right

Everything's moving at a quarter of its normal speed. It's hard to be certain if there's even movement at all. What I know is very surface-based: I stand between the Tenth and Eleventh Doctor, the Warrior directly ahead of me. They are all facing me with blank expressions, their eyes filled with a signature brand of pain. The ground beneath my feet is no longer the metal grating of the TARDIS but a rough, grassless, burnt patch of dirt. I am no longer surrounded by the machine's curving walls; instead there are buildings that crumble, people who scream in terror, and a world that feels inexplicably and unexplainably familiar. Among these things are emblems of death and destruction in the form of five-foot rolling pepperpots with lasers in their single eye socket, which is extended from their domed heads by a thin piece of metal. The sight of them brings back excruciating memories.

The first distinguishable sound I hear brings back worse ones.

"EXTERMINATE!"

The three Doctors whip around at full speed, pulling out their sonic screwdrivers and blasting the dalek before the beam escapes it. The thing stops in its tracks and struggles against the electronic hold. Out of a very primal self-protection instinct, I throw my hands out in front of me and clamp my eyes shut, but when I realize the danger is neutralized and open them again, I see the dalek fly backward through a rippling span of air behind it. It disappears through it, opening what appears to be a rip in the fabric of reality. At once, the Warrior climbs through it, then the Tenth and Eleventh each take one of my hands and help me to the other side as well. The sensation is an uncomfortable one: the sort of uncertainty that accompanies doing something you shouldn't necessarily be doing. I stumble to my feet, covered in soot and the hem of my dress a little singed, as the Black Archive opens up before me. I smell fire and smoke.

The fact that there are two Kates at a table, staring at us, is a bit unsettling as well.

"Hello," the Warrior says casually as he moves to stand in a line between the other two.

The Tenth adds, "I'm the Doctor."

"Sorry about the dalek," my husband chuckles, nodding at it.

"Also the showing off," I quip, earning me a wink from all three of him.

The Eleventh strides up to the Kate on the right side of the metal table, and he looks furious. "Kate Lethbridge-Stewart," he says quietly, sounding like an angry father. "What in the name of sanity are you doing?"

"The countdown can only be halted at my personal command," says the other Kate, and he glances between them, unsure which is the real one. I now notice the screen with red declining numbers. "There's nothing you can do."

He steps back from the table, and the Tenth replies, "Except make you both agree to halt it." He folds his arms, and with the pair of them standing side-by-side like this, they look rather impressive.

"Not even three of you," declares the Kate who spoke.

The Warrior steps toward her, lingering behind his future selves. "You are about to murder millions of people," he tells her. The thick, stifling sincerity to his voice makes my skin crawl.

"To save billions!" Kate fires back. "How many times have you made that calculation?"

One minute and thirty-six seconds left, I see. My blood runs cold.

"Once," the Eleventh Doctor replies sharply, hanging his head. "Turned me into the man I am now. I'm not even sure who that is anymore."

The Tenth Doctor blinks at him. "You tell yourself it's justified, but it's a lie," he adds onto the other's sentence in a sure tone, "because what I did that day was wrong. Just wrong."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Warrior turn and look at the corner of the room, and the Moment appears once again, her face thoughtful as she listens.

"And because I got it wrong," continues my husband, "I'm going to make you get it right." In perfect unison, he and the Tenth whip two nearby chairs around and straddle them.

"How?" asks Kate.

The Tenth points at her in a prodding way. "Any second now," he answers, "you're going to stop that countdown. Both of you—together."

"Then you're going to negotiate the most perfect treaty of all time," asserts the Eleventh.

"Safeguards all 'round, completely fair on both sides."

"And the key to perfect negotiation?"

"Not knowing what side you're on."

"So!" the Eleventh exclaims, jumping up from his chair as the pair of them shove them backward with their feet. "For the next few hours, until we decide to let you out—"

His past self continues, "No one in this room will remember if they're human—"

"Or Zygon."

The Eleventh hops onto the table, both Kates shrieking in surprise and jumping backwards. "Whoops-a-daisy!" he laughs. He attempts to steady himself best he can. Then all three of them raise their sonic screwdrivers to the memory filter embedded into the ceiling directly above the table. It flashes red briefly, and just as the entire room is filled with a blinding white light, the Tenth reaches over and covers my eyes. A moment passes before he removes his hand, allowing me to see the Kate clones, Osgood and her duplicate, and McGillop standing with befuddled expressions.

Seven seconds. The countdown begins to beep threateningly.

The Kates realize this, and at the same exact moment, they shout, "Cancel the detonation!"

The clock stops with two seconds left.