Doctor Who: The Grandfather Paradox

Chapter 6: Sins of the Grandfather

CHAPTER 6: Sins of the Grandfather

The Doctor's proposition was greeted with ashen faces. Was that really his plan? To go back in time and destroy his past self? Did he really think that would resolve this situation? To the three before him, it couldn't have been a more drastic option. "Doctor," said Amy. "No. You can't do that. There must be another way."

"There is no other way," he replied. "And you know it as well as I do. TARDIS, your front garden, me in tails, you in white. An anomaly was detected — me, existing when I shouldn't. Alive when I should be dead. It was always going to happen. Well..." He took a deep breath. "This is the moment when it does happen. This is the beginning of that moment."

"The beginning of the end?" Amy was incredulous. "No, you don't need to do this!"

"I'm wrapped throughout time, Amy. Throughout all of history. I've involved myself in too much for too long. Remove me right from the start, before any of this ever had a chance to happen, and a chain reaction of interlinked paradoxes will occur from end to end, star to star. The ripples will build to a critical mass, releasing a force of space-time energy that should be enough to blast every—"

"But what about you? What good is a universe — any universe — without you?" Amy didn't care for an explanation. "Doctor, you're a time traveller! You can change this! You can change your future!"

The Doctor regarded Amy sympathetically, and tried to respond with a gentle tone. "And for what? Save myself so the universe can collapse? Save myself so every universe that has ever and will ever exist can implode into the very fabric of reality? Surely one stupid man in a box is a small price to pay so that time and space can continue to exist."

"I don't understand," said Susan. "Who are you talking about?"

The Doctor looked at the young woman, and his hearts sank — clearly, her involvement in a matter ten regenerations before her time put her closer to the man he once was, rather than the man he now embodied. He approached Susan and gently put his hands on her shoulders, his arms taught and braced between them, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"Me," he said. There was no getting around it. "Younger me. Well, older-looking me." He inhaled deeply. "Your me."

A moment passed before the Doctor's words registered in her mind, and Susan's face warped into an expression of horror. "You mean you're going to... oh, but you can't! You mustn't!"

"I must. I have to."

Amy stepped forward. "Well, I won't let you." She looked at Susan. "We won't let you."

The Doctor sighed. These humans. These complex, yet simplistic creatures. They were too short-sighted, not letting themselves see what needed to be done just so they could hang on to what they wanted to have. Their emotions always got in the way. Intentionally or otherwise, they served as a shield. An excuse.

But then he thought of Susan — his own kind, reacting in kind. Why could she, of all people, not see? Why could she not understand? Had she spent too long with humans? Probably. But then he himself had been by their side just as long. He'd fought for them, defended them. Loved them.

These humans. He had loved them.

His throat felt thick, and the Doctor swallowed hard. He suddenly grew aware of the true impact of his plan. He pictured faces, sad and lost. Hundreds of them. Thousands. But then, just as swiftly, he pictured an imaginary wind blowing them into grains of sand; he couldn't let them get in the way of what he knew had to be done. He needed to convince the humans of more than the simple end-game. He needed to have them see how he saw. To know what he knew.