Doctor Who: God Is Dead

3: The Belief

For the third and hopefully final time, the trapdoor opened, Faith tossing the stick to one side with a thud. She stood back as the Doctor took lead; once in the attic he guided her up, her eyes shut the moment she touched the ladder.
The Doctor grinned to the dark, not bothering to switch the lights on. "Fee, Fidem, fo, fum..."
As if a magic spell, the Fidem brought itself into existence, shimmering in the dark. "You return to me?"
"I do. And I've brought a friend." He guided Faith by the arm, positioning her in front of the Fidem, the creature unphased. "Care to say hello to the woman you've been torturing for untold time?"
The Fidem said nothing, giving the floor to Faith. With heavy breath after heavy breath, hands shaking, she ripped the plaster off, opening her eyes...
And the Fidem vanished.
Slowly, the lights blinked on, Faith looking for her disappeared tormentor. "Where is it? It is gone?"
The Doctor raised the sonic screwdriver, scanning. "Two life signs in this building. But there were two signs when I was up here earlier. Maybe it's impervious to scans." He scanned again, in-depth, with specific readings. "It's got to be here somewhere..."
His technobabble was little comfort to Faith. She covered her face in anguish, resigning herself to her fate - and the Fidem reappeared, silent.
"It's back," the Doctor informed her, confused. "How are you supposed to fail if it vanishes whenever you try and look at it?"
His logical deconstruction was interrupted by the tiniest of beeps from the sonic. Scan complete. Two life signs, as before.
One Time Lord.
One Fidem.
No humans.
"Faith," the Doctor said, his voice hollow, not meeting her shielded gaze. "Open your eyes."
"Is it gone?"
"No. But it can't hurt you. I promise."
Slowly, Faith followed, opening her eyes. As the Doctor expected, the Fidem vanished again. Except it hadn't. The Doctor turned to Faith, her face a picture of innocence.
But he knew that wasn't true.
Slowly, he approached her, closing the gap, not quite putting a hand on her shoulder although implying the gesture. "The Fidem is no danger to you," he said, "...Because you are the Fidem."
Faith didn't respond, her mouth torn of oxygen. Good news for the Doctor: he could monologue without seeming rude.
"I said the Fidems were pilgrims. I was right. This is your pilgrimage; you're Jesus in the desert over Lent, a self-imposed exile of discovery. There is no Faith Summers, she has no family, she wasn't placed here against her will. You chose to do this, then wiped your memory. This was never a test of faith... it was a test of Faith."
He stopped. "That doesn't make sense audibly, you have to imagine the capitalisation."
The information washed over Faith, connection after connection made then wrapped in denial. "I... I don't-"
"Why did you say God had been dead a year? Where was that random number pulled from? Or, it wasn't random, and you set yourself an end date for this scenario. An end date you failed to live up to, leaving you to think there was nobody out there to save you, even calling out telepathically to the TARDIS, taking me off course."
And everything made sense.
"Then how do we escape?" Faith's voice quivered, a last vestige of her false humanity. "Please."
The Doctor hadn't a clue. Until now. "You believed there was no escape. So believe you were wrong. Use the faith you've strived for throughout your life, realise it, and use it to deconstruct this reality. Picture safety. Picture home. Picture a little blue box, lost in the wilderness, and take us there."
Faith closed her eyes, and in a sudden flash of light, the attic, the cottage, dissipated, the familiar walls of the TARDIS console room rising up to replace them. As the smog cleared, Faith's form was gone, replaced by the Fidem, her features visible within.
"Well then." The Doctor leant against a railing. "I think God is very much alive."

A moment later, the TARDIS materialised somewhere new, doors opening onto a realm of temples and monuments.
"There you go," said the Doctor, "The planet Ecclesia. From now on keep it to church every Sunday. Maybe fasting if you're feeling really crazy."
Faith looked out upon her world, absent from her for so long. If tears could come to her crystal eyes, they would have poured out, shimmering in their ecstasy. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it."
"If I may, however-" Faith halted at the door- "I remember the attic, that other side of me trying to understand you, and I really couldn't. You believed in something, I could sense it. What?"
Quiet fell, the Doctor smiling. "I believe in what every sufferer in this universe does. I believe in the Doctor."
"But... you are the Doctor."
The smile faded. "Maybe one day."
Without another word, lingering on yet another question that would dance among her for the rest of her days, Faith departed, manifesting something in the Doctor's hand as a final token of goodwill. Turning back to the console, he examined the object: a pint of milk.
"Fantastic."
Home it was then - well, home for another seventeen years. The clock was running down. But he totally wasn't thinking about that. Shut up. A few switch flicks and there he landed, opening the doors and calling out to the building's occupant:
"Sweetie, I'm back... no, I didn't get distracted..."