The Orphan in the TARDIS

Chapter Twenty-Four

After a while, the War Doctor says, "In theory, I can trigger an isolated sonic shift among the molecules, and the door should disintegrate."

"We'd have to calculate the exact harmonic resonance of the entire structure down to a sub-atomic level. Even the sonic would take years," the pinstripe Doctor grumbles.

"No, no, the sonic would take centuries. Oh, we might as well get started. Help to pass the timey-wimey." Sophie snorts, only for the older Doctor's turn, shooting her a glare. and she passes it off as a cough. "Do you have to talk like children? What is it that makes you so ashamed of being a grown up?" The Warrior looks up from the screwdriver in his hands, seeing the looks of trepidation emulating from the older Doctor's, "Oh, the way you both look at me. What is that? I'm trying to think of a better word than dread."

"It must be really recent for you," Sandshoes says, his voice nearly a whisper.

"Recent?"

"The Time War. The last day. The day you killed them all," Bow tie states, temporarily stopping his scraping at the wall.

"The day we killed them all," Sandshoes argues.

"Same thing."

Sophie takes a minute to look at the War Doctor, to study his face. It takes a glance into his eyes to finalize her decision. She knows he hasn't destroyed the planet yet, no matter how much he pretends he has. There's too much light in his eyes, that twinkle she doesn't see in the older Time Lord's eyes, at least not until that grey haired Scotsman.

"I don't talk about it," he mutters.

"You're not talking about it. There's no one else here," Pinstripes argues.

"Great, glad to know I'm no one."

"You were there," both of the older Doctor's say in unison.

"Yeah, I was. But he hasn't been there, not yet anyway," she nods at the War Doctor.

"What do you mean," the Doctor with spikey hair asks.

"Look into his eyes, Doc. He's still has the sparkle. That hint of optimism, it's still there, deep in his eyes. He hasn't destroyed Gallifrey yet."

The Warrior looks down toward his boots, "Did you ever count?"

"Count what?" the eldest Time Lord asks, still seeming shocked by the revelation that to his younger self, Gallifrey still exists.

"How many children there were on Gallifrey that day."

He stops his carving in the wall, turning slightly angrily, "I have absolutely no idea."

"How old are you now?"

"Ah, I don't know. I lose track. Twelve hundred and something, I think, unless I'm lying. I can't remember if I'm lying about my age, that's how old I am."

"He is truly ancient," Sophie comments. She has her feet pressed against the wall, her head on the hard stony floor. The Gallifreyan rolls his eyes, slowly removing his tweed frock coat. Folding it gently, he slides it under her head, before going back go the wall, and his small metal pole.

"Four hundred years older than me, and in all that time you've never even wondered how many there were? You never once counted?"

"Tell me, what would be the point?" he grumbles.

Sandshoes looks at his older self, looking livid, "Two point four seven billion."

"You did count!"

"You forgot?" the middle Doctor growls, "Four hundred years, is that all it takes?"

"I moved on," he states clamly.

"Where? Where can you be now that you can forget something like that?"

"Spoilers."

"No. No, no, no. For once I would like to know where I'm going."

"No, you really wouldn't," the oldest Time Lord says, angrily turning to face his younger self.

"Trenzalore," Sophie says, in a quiet voice. All three Time Lords turn to look at her, the oldest one looking just the smallest bit angry. "He's going to Trenzalore, where you die. Not regenerate, die. The TARDIS stands vigil, guarding you even in the grave."

The pinstripe clothed Doctor turns to look at his older self, looking a bit chagrined.

"Look at the three of you. Tell me something Doctor's, if you could go back, make the decision that he's about to make. If you had that chance, what would you do?" She asks, whilst gesturing to the War Doctor.

The oldest of the Doctor's sighs, his shoulders slumping forward, "Between destroying the universe and destroying Gallifrey?"

"Gallifrey," the two older Time Lords say in unison.

"Everytime," sandshoes finishes.

"Okay, now it's your turn, tell me sandshoes, if you knew where you were going, knew it's only so much time till you go and die, wouldn't you be ready to move on, forgive yourself?"

"Yeah," he sighs, "yeah I would."

"Okay, and bow tie, you know what he's going through, can you blame him if he's mad? He's just waiting for four knocks, those four knocks to signal his doom, anyone could be a bit stressed."

"Yeah," the older Doctor nods, his head drooping slightly, "No one knows how he's feeling better than me."

"Great, now that that's been sorted, how about you stow all your bullsh*t and get me out of here."

"No.," the Warrior states.

"No?" sandshoes asks, looking confused.

"Just, no."

The eldest Doctor laughs, Sophie. who had been trying to hold back her own laughter, bursts out chuckling as well.

"Is something funny? Did I miss a funny thing?" The pinstripe Doctor asks.

"Sorry. It just occured to me. This is what I'm like when I'm alone."

"What are you even talking about? This is what you sound like all the time."

"Four hundred years," the Warrior says, sounding as if he's had an epiphany.

"I'm sorry?" Sophie asks.

"At a software level, they're all the same device, aren't they. Same software, different case."

The older Doctor's don't seem too concerned with what their younger self just said, but it piques Sophie's interest. "So, what if you scan the door, and implant that as a subroutine in the software? If they have the same software on their sonic's, then those centuries won't matter, will they?"

"Huh," Sandshoes comments, pulling his sonic out. The Warrior quickly scans the door, as his older self consults his screwdriver. "Still going."

"Calculation complete," Chinny cheers. "Hey, four hundred years in four seconds. We may have had our differences, which is frankly odd in the circumstances, but, I tell you what, boys. We are incredibly clever."

"Right, because I did nothing to help."

He smiles at her, "You were as helpful as you normally are. Just as you said, not at all helpful."

She rolls over, quickly climbing to her feet. She picks up the tweed frock, tossing it over his head, "Aw, shut up."

"Never gonna happen," he responds, pulling the coat off his face. He turns, pointing his screwdriver at the door, as it swings open.