Until We Burn | Dr Who

Chapter One Hundred and Six: The Red Planet

Days have passed since our adventure on the desert planet. I haven't slept. Carmen's words play over and over in my mind. 

"It is returning. It is returning through the dark. The faces watch you, they wait. And then, Doctor— Oh, but then... he will knock four times."

I can't make sense of it. Whatever it is, it scares me. So I do the one thing I can: I shut myself away in the library and go through every book I can think of, searching for answers.

"Marco!" A voice comes from the distant reaches of the room.

I groan but answer nonetheless, "Polo!"

It takes a few more tries for the Doctor to find me. I don't look up from my latest read, hunched over a desk in the corner. He approaches, sporting a steaming bowl of tomato soup and a glass of water. I hear him sigh as he has to nudge aside the tray that was already on the desk to set it down. "You haven't eaten."

"Busy," I mutter.

"At least have a drink."

Huffing, I reach for it but misjudge the distance, still focused on the book. The glass topples onto the carpet, spilling water all over his trainers. Cursing myself, I bury my face in my folded arms. He crouches to recover the glass and uses his sonic to dry up the spill. His hand rests against my back, rubbing circles. "Just water, no problem," he reassures me. His traces then move up to smooth my tangled hair and stroke the curve of my head. "Can I ask... how long has it been since you last slept? You've been shut in here for days. In fact, I think this is the first time you've spoken a word to me in just as long. Talk to me, Inara. What are you doing?"

I have to sit up, if only to stretch out an ache in my back. My bloodshot eyes meet his and I gesture helplessly to the piles of volumes surrounding me. "I need to understand."

"Understand what, love?"

I try to form an answer but nothing comes. Huffing, I hide my face again. He anticipates me. Shuffling closer, he continues to stroke my back, taking deliberate, deep breaths. I shut my eyes and copy him until my nerves ease a little. "'Returning... dark... faces... he will knock four times'. 'Your song is coming to an end'. I don't understand. What is returning? Who will knock? What song? What does it mean? I don't know what it means." 

He tries to reassure me but I can tell his words don't even comfort him, "You don't need to know anything. There's nothing to know."

Shaking my head, I insist, "The Ood said the same thing. My nightmares are getting worse. Every night, I get chased down these corridors and locked into that same prison. I panic and those drums come right back to haunt me. I can't even listen to your hearts without feeling sick. That's not normal. I shouldn't be terrified by my own husband's heartbeat."

"You've been through a lot, Inara. Panic attacks, nightmares, flashbacks... they're unpleasant but not exactly uncommon after traumatic events. Your mind is still recovering. These things take time."

"No!" I snap, my voice broken by a sob. "N-No. This isn't me. I'm— I'm fine. I-It's not me. It's not me. It's— Something else is happening."

"Inara—"

He tries to take my hands in his but I swat him away, taken over by a burst of anger. "Don't turn this on me. Don't— It's not in my head. It's not."

Hesitating, he tries once more to bring me comfort. I let him this time, leaning into his touch, burrowing my face into his shoulder. He rubs my back again and gives me a squeeze. "It isn't. 'Course it isn't. I'm sorry, Inara. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have implied— Trust me, whatever's going on, it's not him. The Master is dead."