Until We Burn | Dr Who

Chapter Ninety-Eight: A Tale of Three Doctors

The two Doctors stare, horrified, at the newcomer. "You. How can you be here? More to the point, why are you here?"

He smiles curtly and clasps his hands behind his back. "Good afternoon. I'm... looking for the Doctor."

Keeping his courage, my Doctor mutters, "Well... you've certainly come to the right place."

"Good! Right! Well, who are you boys?" They share another look. He nods. "Oh, of course! Are you his companions?"

"'His companions'?" the other Doctor squeaks indignantly.

Still, the man smiles cheerfully. "They get younger all the time. And who might you be?"

They part ways and look to me. I can find nothing to say all of a sudden.

"Well, come along. Speak up, girl. Or are you just going to stand there, gawking and brandishing a stick at me?"

I still can't come up with a response. Sighing disappointedly, he returns his attention to them. "Well, if you could point me in the general direction of the Doctor..."

In response, they each silently hold up their sonics. His bushy brows furrow. "Really?"

"Really."

"You're me? Both of you?"

"Yep," mine replies, popping the 'p' for extra, awkward effect.

He takes a moment to think. "Even that one?"

The other lets out another high-pitched rebuttal, "Yes!"

"You're my future selves?"

"Yes!" they both exclaim.

"And the girl?"

I dare to lower the stick again. "Nope, just the fiancé." Not sure what else to say, I offer him a little wave. "Hello."

He blinks a few times. "Am I having a mid-life crisis?" The moment he takes a step towards them, they both aim their sonics in defence. "Why are you pointing your screwdrivers like that? They're scientific instruments, not water pistols. Look like you've seen a ghost."

My mind clears from the surprise enough for me to make my way towards him but they both rush to block my path. My Doctor rests a gentle but protective hand on my arm. "Just keep clear for now, okay?"

"What? But—"

"Seriously, Inara. I know you're not one for following instructions, but right now, I need you to do as I say," he warns me in a hushed voice. A nervous titter of laughter passes my lips. With one more look from him, I go silent. He really means it. My face falls and I nod. Reassured, he glares at the man over his shoulder, looking him over. "Still... loving the posh, gravelly thing. It's very convincing."

The other, younger Doctor snickers, "Brave words, Dick Van Dyke."

We are interrupted by a cacophony of yells and shouts. Racing after us from every edge of the clearing are at least two dozen men, all in armour of the period. The two Doctors still stood defensively beside me aim their sonics again and I brandish the branch yet again with far more ill intent.

A man in noble clothing strides forwards. "Which of you is the Doctor?" None of us respond, keeping our weapons ready. "The Queen of England is bewitched. I would have the Doctor's head."

The grey-haired man is unfazed by the halberd pointed just a few feet from his feet. He lifts onto his toes and back down again, hands still clasped behind his back. If anything, the threat of violence seems to add a daringness to his tone. "Well, this has all the makings of your lucky day."