Doctor Who - 02 - The Art of Forgetting

.12. Shadows in the Cave

The Doctor slowly got up from a rough floor. He dusted off his hands and looked around quite pointlessly – darkness surrounding him seemed deeper than the heart of the black hole. He reached for the sonic screwdriver and uttered a loud sigh of relief when he found it in his pocket. He flipped the switch, summoning soothingly familiar blue glow of the device. After a brief while he slapped his forehead and sunk a hand in his pocket again. He produced a small flashlight; a simple plastic gadget; except maybe for the fact that its batteries were nothing like ordinary, Earth's double As. He charged them with the energy drawn directly from the TARDIS's core; the torch would work until the Triangalla's sun grew old, fell apart and turned the twenty six planets of the system – together with their numerous moons (including the Emporia moon, where he was presently) – into charcoal and ashes. Of course an incandescent xenon bulb would burn out long before that. Of course it was not the same flashlight which batteries he charged with the TARDIS's energy; it was a projection of the torch, held by the projection of the Doctor, standing in the projection of the cave, in the projection of impenetrable darkness. If any of these assumptions were aimed at improving his mood, they suffered a disgraceful defeat.

"I've almost made it, Theta," he said quietly. He chuckled and added: "Over."

"Who's there?"

The voice was muffled, trembling, close to a whisper.

The Doctor swivelled round, sweeping his flashlight's beam across stone walls, dark tunnels entrances and stalactites hanging from the ceiling.

"Huh?"

"Who is there?" the voice repeated. There was something familiar to the voice, but it did not provoke the subtle sensation of joy likely to be felt when meeting people one hasn't seen for a very long time.

"Where are you?" the Doctor asked. The torch's light zigzagged wildly from wall to wall, drowning in the deeper darkness just out of its reach. "I can't see you. Where are you?"

"Your voice sounds familiar."

The Doctor narrowed his eyes instinctively, as if expecting a blow.

"So does yours," he answered. Although the voice was quiet and muffled, there was a trace of a vibration in it – of an unnatural, mechanical distortion. Fine hair on the Doctor's neck started to bristle, as if the air was charged with electricity.

"Long time no see... Doctor."

"Davros," the Doctor whispered.

A dark silhouette appeared in the light; with a buzz of servomotors a mechanical vehicle/life support system drove out from behind the rocks and into the centre of the cave. The Doctor had to struggle to suppress an instant flight response.

"We were destined to meet again, Doctor," Davros said. "Murderer. Killer of my kind. We have unfinished business that needs conclusion. You did not, by any chance, think you could escape me?"

"No," the Doctor spoke huskily. He cleared his throat. "No. I couldn't escape you, because I can't forget you. You are my memory, Davros. That's where you came from – straight from my head. You're not real."

"Oh, but..." Davros tapped his claw-like fingers, chuckling quietly, "...in here you're not real as well."

"Yes. Right. You're a nightmare. I've been expecting that." The Doctor took a deep breath. "I intend to ignore you. You're just a nightmare, you can't hurt me."

"Can't I? I was able to show you a mirror reflecting your soul; I was able to show you, who you really were; I was able to force your surrender. You begged me on your knees to stop. In my hands I held your life, those of your friends and of all the beings you cared for. And I did break you, Time Lord. I, Davros, the Maker of the Daleks, did break your spirit. Even burning up I laughed aloud, because that was the last drop I needed to make your pain brim over, and to break you forever. Pretend as much as you like, in front of your Children of Time, in front of your Torchwood, in front of yourself; I know that you will never rise from your knees. I made you into a pathetic last representative of an extinct species, clinging to life at all cost, any way you can; you, a Time Lord, a proud observer, a wise sage, a god. I've ground you down to dust, Doctor. Everything goes to ruin, and I've ruined you."