Lost In Time: A Doctor Who Fanfiction

Chapter 44 - Victory of the Daleks, Part 2

She shook her head, and turned to find the Doctor on the far side of the room gripping the back of a chair. "Hey," she said softly as she joined him, noticing his knuckles were nearly white under the tension. "You all right?" 

He shook his head, letting out a short, bitter laugh. "No. How could I be? They're back. Again. They always come back. Now here they are again, and they've connived their way into the leadership of Great Britain itself. They've got access to so much power. All this effort, just to find me." 

He scoffed. "You said their system didn't recognize them as Daleks anymore, but that doesn't matter. You saw what they could do outside, even as damaged as they are. The Cult of Skaro wasn't joking when they said they could wipe out the millions of Cybermen at Canary Wharf with one Dalek."

His grip on the chair tightened until the metal started to bend under his strength. "All those people at risk, and Winston refuses to see it, for the sake of a finite advantage over the Germans. He could lose so much more than the war." He let out a low sigh of despair and forcibly relaxed his grip, dropping his head. "Why don't they just listen to me?" he whispered. 

Lyssa grimaced. "I don't know. I'm sorry," she breathed, heart aching at his pain. "I wish I had answers for you. Maybe... maybe they're under some kind of perception filter? And it doesn't work on us because we're from a different time period? Or wait, no, then Amy would see it too." She frowned. "Maybe it's because neither of us are fully human?" The words felt weird just saying them, but the Doctor was shaking his head before she had even finished speaking. 

"No. You'd still feel some sort of influence then, and perception filters can influence us as well, unless we're being very careful. You're still mostly human at this point, just a little bit extra to help you hold - that - safely," he edited, glaring at the Dalek as it rolled by, another cup of tea on a tray. "And these people..." He sighed. "These people are desperate for anything to give them an edge over the Germans. You heard Winston. Whatever it takes. Never mind that it could get them all killed in the end." 

Lyssa tilted her head to the side. "Do you want a hug?" she offered, holding her arms out. "I've heard it helps reduce stress levels." 

He managed a weary smile, shaking his head fondly before accepting, melting into her embrace and burying his head into her neck. "Thank you, fairy-girl," he told her, voice muffled. "I don't know what I'd do without you." 

"Have less hugs?" she suggested innocently. "Get into even more trouble than you already do? Have no one around to make fun of you for being afraid of apples?" 

He sniffed disdainfully as he pulled back. "Just because I have a preference for other fruits does not indicate a fear, Miss Devons," he informed her haughtily, poking her in the side and smirking when she involuntarily giggled. "It merely indicates I have better taste buds. Further, I feel the need to point out that you get into just as much trouble as I do, so don't go blaming me for your unfortunate inclinations."

Lyssa batted at his hand and stepped away, protectively shielding her ribs. "Your defensive air suggests otherwise," she pointed out teasingly, then faltered, noticing the distinct lack of redheads in the room. "Uh, speaking of attracting trouble and not listening to you, I think we lost Amy."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "It's always the Scottish," he grumbled under his breath. "Jamie was the same way. Always getting into trouble."

"Jamie?" Lyssa asked curiously, something about the name ringing a bell. 

"Jamie McCrimmon. A companion back when I was in my second face. Good old Jamie. He was a fine chap. But now is not the time for reminiscing, I'm afraid. There's Daleks about, and a Scot on the loose in the Cabinet War Rooms. I'm not sure London can handle it."