by Cour M.
“Clara,” Nine continued, “what is it?”
Clara looked down.
“You have no idea,” she began, “what it feels like to let everyone down eventually.”
“What do you mean?”
“First, there was pressure on me when I was growing up. For some reason my parents didn’t have any more children, so a lot of weight was put on my shoulders. I had to be exceptional. And my god, the pain that comes with being so ordinary and untalented—under the weight of those expectations. The truth is, John, I was never very good at many things. I sucked at sports! Like all of them. I tried to take music lessons—I might as well had been tone deaf. I took dance classes, I fell down so much in class, that kids made fun of me. I joined a choir, the choir leader gently told me that I was not… good enough, therefore I ought to leave. I took acting lessons, and the teachers were so evil, I couldn’t even move and other acting students publicly shamed me.” Such confessions were so painful to her that she grew emotional and her body shook. “My mother was the only stable thing in my life, because she always forgave my failures. When I was growing up, I had insecurity issues, so I was not good at speaking and in school everyone made fun of me. I’m single now and it is by choice, but not because I’m this strong and independent woman who doesn’t need a guy. It’s because either I made a right disaster of the relationship, or I let the guy treat me like crap. So I don’t date because I don’t trust myself to think I deserve better when in the midst of something destructive. You see, John, you can only fail and embarrass yourself for but so long before you can’t do anything anymore. I became a teacher because it was the only thing that I was good at, really. So imagine, after all that, a man falls from the sky, in a blue box, and he doesn’t know any of your past. You can start all over with him. And all he saw was your triumphs. Your good sides. With him, I felt like I would always be able to do right. And I need a stage where I do everything right.”
“That’s why you were eager to see him?”
“Yes. When the chance comes for someone to see you different and you can look perfect forever in their eyes, you don’t question it. You just go for it! If you start right, I figured, then you can always go right from thenceforth.”
Nine leaned on the table next to Clara.
“Do you really believe that if this Doctor were to see your flaws,” Nine questioned, “that he would find you ugly?”
“He wouldn’t be the first one.”
“So you don’t trust him?”
“It’s not just about him. I mean, haven’t you always wanted to feel right?”
“Yes,” Nine admitted, “always want to.”
They both looked ahead for a moment, not knowing what to say, and then Nine realized it.
“Clara?”
“Yes?”
“Where I come from, my home planet, I went to the Timelord Academy, and it was daring and pioneering that led me to be able to graduate, because I had to take my exams twice to pass. And my grade on it was a 51%.”
Clara laughed at this.
“My wife, before she became interested in me, thought I was repulsive and told me so. I had other romantic interests before her and I was rebuked every time. Now that I look back on it I can’t blame them, because I wasn’t much to look at. I have had friends that turned into arch enemies. I have failed at everything you could imagine failing at before I just got lucky. I’ve lost people because I was careless. Some friends left me. This one time of my life I was awful and evil… literally I refuse to tell you what I was fully like or you wouldn’t speak to me, and I wore a gaudy technicolor dream coat during it—yeah, I was tacky. And think of the most embarrassing moment of your life. Think of your biggest failure. It is nothing compared to my worst moment. See?”
“I suppose we’re all a little messed up!”
“Yes, we are!”
They both laughed at that.
Clara smiled sadly. Nine then placed his fingers on the side of her face.
“What are you doing?”
“Clara I just have to check once more.” He closed his eyes and felt the power surging within her. “Yes, you still have some of that feedback within you from when you were uploaded. As a matter of fact, it’s information overload. I have to take it from you.”
“But will I still be this smart?”
“I don’t…”
“No then,” she rushed out, trying to remove his hands, “I prefer being this way. I want to be better at things. I can’t go back to how I was!”
“You really need this, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. Please, I like being able to always help.”
Coming to a decision, he placed his hands on her face again.
“Don’t worry,” Nine assured her, “I’m just removing anything that might be lethal and hurt you over time. Clara, if I don’t remove this, then over time, such information overload will melt your mind.”
Clara looked into his eyes and saw that he wasn’t lying.
“You promise that I will still be smart and…”
“Yes, you will.”
He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers and she saw light erupt from her face and into his. He jolted backwards at the feedback transference.
“John, are you okay?”
Nine shook.
“Yes,” he replied, shivering as if he was cold, “I’m fine. I’m fine.”
“Really, promise?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not hurt at all, are you?”
“No.”
Clara sighed out in relief.
“Don’t worry,” he assured her, “you’re fine now.”
“Thank you!”
They were interrupted when Commander Nestor appeared at the doorway.
“Governor, are you well?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Good, now what do we do about the seven people still upstairs?”
“So,” Euripides said as they all were convened in the command room, “What happens now?”
“Precisely,” Commander Nestor added, “you have come in contact with these creatures before and now they have the machine that you made which could lead to the planet being overrun because it will revive their other colonies. How did you defeat them before?”
“The same way that I am going to have to do now. I have to destroy the machine.”
“You failed the last time you tried,” Guy Fawkes inferred, followed by Nine giving him the evil eye. “What, is this where you insult me but I can’t do it back?”
“And how are we going to get to the machine for you to destroy it?” Clara noted, “we can’t go in there with guns blazing. They will be prepared for us.”
“It’s actually worse than that,” Nine added, “I saw into their plans, and the device has been enhanced. Not only will it activate their other colonies, but it will lead to natural disasters which will deplete the numbers of humans. They will create mass murder.”
“So that makes it worse, then,” Jeannette said.
“But what can we do?” Virgil asked, “it’s pointless.”
“Pointless? How can you say that? This may be a time period that you don’t have to live in, but people will die.”
“But that’s the problem. We’re a waste of space here. We can’t help the governor, and if this is the will of the gods—”
“Oh don’t say such things,” Mozart refuted, “whatever your faith, no deity is controlling this situation. This is a fight between species on different planets.”
“And what can we do? This is not me being pessimistic, this is me just having no choice but to feel useless.”
“Precisely,” Emily Bronte admitted, “at first I thought we were all taken because we were special in some way. At least that is what I hoped, but we weren’t.”
“Exactly,” Ethel Waters added, “we don’t make up anything, get forged into a weapon, and whatever you were talking about with those coordinate thin
gs, we don’t help any equations, or anything.”
“Equations?” Nine echoed, “equations.”
“What is it?” Commander Nestor asked.
“By the orange of Gallifrey!” Nine jumped up and spun around, “Equations!”
“What?” Jeannette asked.
“All of you, I should have seen it before. Seven of you taken in different points in time. Well time travel is built on equations, which means a person’s traveling through it also is blocked out in such a way, block-transfer energy. The same can go for people who are placed in it. And there are seven of them, who through time, can create a pattern.”
“You’re saying that a set of people can create a shape through time?” Clara… clarified.
“Yes, it can. It’s rare, very rare, but come on!” He ordered them all. They followed him to the monitor, pressing the dates of their lives into the computer. “You were all taken at these years. Well, you put them in the computer and show the energy they give off through time and it creates this.”
On the monitor, a shape of energy was displayed, looking like a distorted heptagon.
“And their machine,” Nine said, “has to have other devices that are set up underneath the ocean to send direct signals to the plate boundaries to distort them.”
“Wait then,” Clara said, “what shape do they make under the water?”
Nine pressed a few buttons and they made the exact shape of the one that the seven historical figures made.
“Oh my god,” Emily gasped.
“Emily, Ethel, Jeannette, Mozart, Guy, Virgil and Euripides,” Nine informed them, “it turns out that you were special after all. The energy that is given off from your points in time can be precisely what I harness to destroy the machines.”
“Their points?” Clara noted, “when you say that, do you mean fixed points in time?”
“Yes,” Nine answered heavily.
“What is a fixed point in time?” Euripides asked.
“It’s when something occurs in history, and it HAS to happen, because if you unwind it, if you undo it, then the universe could collapse on itself and things unravel terribly. And I have seen the effects of trying to reverse one. You undo it, the force that comes with it can be cataclysmic. The universe can fold over on itself. Monsters falling through cracks in time, or time getting jumbled, time periods happening at once, the possibilities are endless of what it could do. Now if that happens when a fixed point in time is defied, what sort of energy is given off when it is obeyed? It has the power to keep the universe in harmony. You are all seven fixed points in time. There are seven things you all inhabit, which if taken out of their alignment, it could cripple time, yes, but it also could keep you from being a danger to the Sea Devils’ scheme. My god, Xaros, you know you’ve grown desperate if you do this. But he was counting on that. He was counting on me scrounging around and trying to get you all home so that I would not have noticed that you are all a weapon.”
“We are fixed points in time?” Mozart asked.
“Just by being alive?” Jeannette questioned.
“No, but by what you have done. It’s often believed that points in time just are people dying, and that’s it. That is the biggest misconception that there will ever be. A fixed point in time just has to be a semi-profound event. A fixed point can just be singing on a stage,” he looked at Ethel, then he turned to Emily, Virgil and Euripides, “someone choosing to write or defend their work,” he turned to Jeannette, “Someone choosing to assist more scientists like herself to go even further than she did,” then he turned to Guy, “someone committing to an action, and—” he turned to Mozart and was cut off. “Yes, yes.”
“Governor?” Mozart asked.
“But clearly all of you are meant to be put back in time, and when the moment is right, I use the heart of my TARDIS to activate the energy that is emitted to your points in time and then wham! The devices that shall be activated by the machine shall be destroyed.”
“Governor—”
“But it’s not enough. I will have to go back and get to the machine directly, hooking up my TARDIS to it. I shall have to blow it up myself, whatever the costs.”
“John!” Mozart roared, forcing him to pay attention.
Nine was silent and he looked at Mozart.
“You said that fixed points in time usually are regarded as when a person dies. Then you looked at me. You didn’t mention my accomplishments, my symphonies, my work… none of that. You just gave me silence. Why?”
Nine did not respond.
“John Smith, am I going to die?”
“Mozart,” Nine offered softly, “we all have to sometime.”
Mozart rubbed his chin, in agony and he turned around.
“I am sorry,” Clara offered softly, “so very sorry.”
“That’s why you were all so apprehensive about my illness when I came aboard,” he said, looking away from them, “I could see that there was something wrong, so please don’t bother to deny it. That was it, wasn’t it?”
The silence that followed his question was answer enough.
“Well,” Ethel offered encouragement, “at least the person who poisoned you became notorious for it.”
“Ethel!” Nine reprimanded.
“Well he does.”
“What?” Mozart gasped, “I was poisoned?”
“It’s never been proven,” Clara magnified, “just speculated after your death, that you were poisoned by your contemporary composer, Salieri.”
Mozart’s chin dropped fully open.
“What?! Salieri? What imbecile would be so cruel as to make up something so horrible about him?”
“You don’t think he would do it?” Ethel asked.
“Of course not! Why would he do that?”
“It was said that he was jealous of you,” Jeannette reported.
Mozart looked at them all in disbelief.
“I was the one jealous of him!”
“What?” Clara asked, but Nine was not really that shocked by this report and only stood there with his hands folded against his chest.
“Of course I was. He was successful, had more money, he could even afford to not charge his students, while I had to charge them. During our time, he was respected for his skill. I got praise and attention, but he was married into nobility. He had a comfortable life when I was always just making ends meet. I wasn’t poor, but I wasn’t rich either. And my studies were always driving me mad, while he was just content. He even came to see my operas and even stood in praise for one. He respected me!”
“Some say the rumor began because on your deathbed,” Nine informed him, “you said, in your delirium, that you think you were poisoned.”
“So, it—” Mozart’s eyes widened in shock and guilt, “but I always say that when I’m sick.”
“What?” Clara inquired.
“Yes, when I have a fever, I’m delirious. I’ve been known to hallucinate and say that I think I’m being poisoned.”
The revelation was too much for all in the room who knew what Mozart’s implications meant.
“But what about his music and mine?” Mozart asked eventually, “Does our music live on? I can face death, because I have no choice, but tell me this. Does our music live on?”
Clara looked at Nine, as did Ethel and Jeannette.
“You must understand,” Ethel said for them all, “that the rumor spread during Salieri’s life. Whether it was just simply due to time favoring one over the other, or because it did have an effect on his reputation, not to mention all the literary works, books, plays, etc. that implied that he killed you, your work lives on, but his fades.”
Mozart’s face was drained of color as it lost all hope.
“I killed his music?” He cried, emotional, “I killed his music.”
“Friend,” Guy spoke gently, moving toward him, offering him his hand, but Mozart moved away.
“No, please! You don’t understand, that is terrible. You don
’t kill another person’s music. When you do, you might as well have killed the person themselves.”
He covered his face and looked away from them. They let him remain there and then he turned back to the Doctor.
“You, John, you have this machine. Well this machine is unlike anything I have ever seen. It’s as if all the power of the world is within it. I have no choice but to die, and don’t mistake me, I am terrified of the idea, but I must. But you, you must do something? Whether it be by rumor, finding proof, I don’t know. But promise me that you will do everything in your power to show my world that Salieri probably was innocent.”
“There are many things that still have happened that cannot be undone,” Nine pressed, “the works written and produced around it, have to occur. The plays and great films—”
“Then wait till they are over! At some point in time, find a way to get people to see he probably was innocent. That is my bargain, John Smith. I will find the strength to go back and die, as long as you find a way to make sure that his music will live.”
Nine walked up to Mozart and took his hands in his own.
“Mozart, just for you…”
“You promise.”
“Cross my hearts.”
Mozart smiled sadly and then faced the others.
“Well, I suppose it’s time for me to die and you all to… just be magnificent.”
“I am so sorry,” Ethel rushed up to him and hugged him, followed by Emily, Jeannette, Virgil, Guy, Commander Nestor, and Euripides.
As they held him, Clara got closer to Nine to watch the scene.
“John?”
“Hm?”
“Is this what your life is often like?”
“Half of the time yes.”
“I don’t know if I could do that.”
He didn’t answer.
“What you said about Guy Fawkes, about his point in time… is his fixed point that he tries to kill King James and gets caught?”
“Yes,” Nine replied, “that’s why it’s known as Guy Fawkes Day and not the day of the real person who organized the plot. It was Guy Fawkes’s decision to follow through with the deed that was the fixed point in time.”