The Undying Fire - A Doctor Who Fan Fiction

Part 1

"He's been this way ever since he lost his wife." said the Politician. "The poor man's become eccentric. Believe me, I have his best interests in mind when I say we shouldn't appease him."

"I concur", remarked the Psychologist. "God knows, I like the man. By all accounts he was a devoted husband, and his loss has crippled him with grief. He blames himself. He spends all his time alone in his workshop and when I see him he barely exchanges pleasantries. He speaks only of wild theories. He thinks time is 'fluid'."

The Doctor was crouching by the fireplace, closely studying the curling of the eddies of grey smoke and the glowing flecks of ash which circled like dying stars. He was dressed in a black suit, waistcoat and cravat, and held an ebony cane with what looked like a question mark built into its handle, though this, he knew, was for effect. The fire cast a flicker across the drawing room and its well-heeled occupants. The Doctor felt all eyes landing on him as the resident 'man of science'.

"Oh, I say let him present his theories" said The Doctor. "Look around you at your libraries built on the works of those once deemed of 'unsound mind'. Discovery is a fire to keep stoked!"

He glanced across at Filby sitting on a chair by the door, who had remained silent for most of the evening. Filby looked oddly uncomfortable in his suit and would nervously shift his gaze around the room. Herbert walked in, his hair unkempt, carrying a brown leather satchel, muttering apologies for his lateness.

"Herbert, dear boy, it's so good to see you", said the Lawyer, moving to shake Herbert's hand but, on seeing it occupied, gently squeezing his arm instead. "We've all been looking forward to catching up with your endeavours. We've heard such rumours!"

The maid arrived bearing a silver tray containing a bottle of port, six crystal glasses and a newspaper. She placed the drinks on the table, walked over to The Doctor and gestured toward the periodical with a wink. The Doctor examined the date beneath the title: 3rd April 1895. The stories included the election of Lord Salisbury and the scandal gradually consuming Oscar Wilde at the height of his powers.

"Good work, Ace."

Ace was surprised at how easily she'd slipped back into the role – it had been a long time since she served cocktails on the Ice Planet Svartos. The uniform was hardly flattering, though it at least spared her of the stifling corsets she had become accustomed to during their earlier adventures in the era.

Pausing only to adjust the angle of an ornate clock on the mantelpiece, The Doctor headed to the table where discussion was already underway regarding Herbert's work. Herbert was animated, though distant, his eyes never meeting those of his audience, whose expressions ranged from curiosity to bemusement to sympathy.

"What I'm saying is," said the Politician, "even if the fourth dimension is time, and we've no real proof of that, it is entirely academic. It's clearly of a completely different nature, that much is obvious. For instance, why can we not see time?"

"Are you so sure we cannot?" the Psychologist interjected. "Are our surroundings not changing from one moment to the next, even as we remain static? See the fireplace – in an hour it may not burn for lack of fuel. And the hands of the grandfather clock: we may not see them moving at a glance, but over time we can see this to be true. Time is built into its mechanism."

"Exactly" said Herbert. "We cannot see the dimension of time because we are enveloped in it. As the one intractable force in our lives, we know nothing else. We have no distance. Each of us, and everything that surrounds us, is moving on a steady, unwavering path forward, never back."

"There's no escaping that" said the Lawyer. "There isn't a man here who wouldn't go back and change parts of their history if they could, correcting their miscalculations and prolonging their joys. What do you think, Doctor?"