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The Visitors by Suzanne [Reviews - 5]  Author's Notes: Set after Escape Velocity
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Shoreditch, London, December 2001
“I hear the doorbell ring
And suddenly the panic takes me…”
Samantha Jones was startled awake by a knock on the front door. She’d dozed off in front of the telly, right in the middle of The Royle Family Christmas special.
The knock came again, and she frowned. Somehow she recognised that knock. The visitor had completely ignored the bell — for them a tap of the knuckles would suffice.
Sam froze for a moment. What should she do? It had been more than five years — did she really want to see him now, let him back into her life after all this time?
She was on her feet almost before she realised, her legs carrying her automatically down the hall. Did anyone ever stop being a companion? she wondered. Sarah had fallen easily back into the routine — would the same thing happen to her? He could still have that effect on her, even after all these years.
The door swung open, and there he was, standing in the hall. Sam had no idea who had let him in downstairs — presumably he’d used the sonic screwdriver to bypass the lock. He had his back to her, glancing up and down the rows of doors as if checking he’d come to the right one.
She almost didn’t recognise him. Still tall and slender, but dressed in a long, rather crumpled linen jacket with a deep green shirt and tan trousers. His chestnut hair was cropped short, though still long enough to curl. The wild, Byronic locks she recalled were evidently a thing of the past. As he turned round, the light above the door caught his hair, and Sam thought she could see a trace of grey there. Or had it been her imagination?
“Hello, you,” she said. The words sounded completely inadequate.
He smiled, that familiar slow, crooked smile, the one that only seemed to turn up one corner of his mouth. “Hello, Sam,” he said, voice as soft as ever. “You look well.”
Impulsively, Sam reached out and hugged him. To her surprise, he stiffened in her arms, as though he wasn’t used to being touched. After a moment, he awkwardly hugged her back, the tentative gesture of a person who had almost forgotten how to make physical contact.
She pulled away, looked up into his face. In human terms, he looked at most five years older, but she knew well how much longer Time Lords took to age. With an inward jolt of shock, she realised that there were lines starting to appear around his brilliant blue eyes. The eyes themselves were different, more distant than she remembered.
Haunted. How long had it been for him since they last met?
“You’d better come in,” she told him, letting him go at last. “I’ll put the kettle on.”
She led him through to the kitchen, switching off the telly on the way and silencing Jim Royle in full flow. It occurred to her that the Doctor couldn’t have known where she was living now, but she didn’t let it worry her. He knew everything.
“How did you know where to find me?” she asked, filing the kettle with water.
“You’re in the phone book, “ he replied. “How are you?”
I should be asking you the same question, Sam thought. She was surprised that he’d looked her up in the book — he never did anything the boring way. The easy way… “Fine. Doing well. Working with Greenpeace these days. And I’m off to Africa after Christmas to help with the drought.”
He nodded. “Good, good. And you’re happy?”
That was a typical question. “Yes,” she said, and meant it. “I haven’t regretted coming home. I’m doing something worthwhile, I have my own home — “
“And a boyfriend?” He’d seen the photo of her and Mark pinned to the notice board.
“Yeah. He’s out visiting his parents at the moment. Should be back later, if you want to stay and meet him.” The moment the words left her mouth Sam wished she’d never said them. This wasn’t what she wanted. Mark was part of her life that had nothing to do with the madness. There was no way she was going to let it be spoilt by monsters knocking on their door.
The Doctor tried to put on a cheerful face, but she didn’t miss the sadness, the loneliness in his eyes. He shook his head. “No, I won’t intrude. I’m very happy for you. What’s his name?”
“Mark. Mark Wrayburn. I met him when I volunteered with Shelter two Christmases ago.” Behind her, the kettle boiled. She made two cups of tea, handing one to the Doctor and sitting down at the table. “Sorry, it’s only teabags from Tesco. Not what you’re used to.”
Hesitantly, he pulled out a chair and sat down facing her. He seemed so unsure of himself — Sam’s impression was of a stranger having taken over his body. He looked the same, he sounded the same, but he wasn’t the Doctor she knew.
“How’s Fitz?” she asked after a suitable pause.
He looked momentarily startled by the question, as if he’d forgotten Fitz’s existence. Maybe he had. “He’s well,” he said finally. “He had a few errands to run, but he said he’d pop in later. I think he wanted to give me time to speak to you alone.”
Sam couldn’t help smiling. Fitz was still with the Doctor. That was a relief. “Fitz has learned tact? That’s something I never expected to see.”
“He’s been through a lot,” snapped the Doctor suddenly. Sam jumped — his eyes had become as hard as sapphires. He looked down at his tea. “We all have,” he muttered. “Too much. Far too much.”
“And how about you?” Sam asked, not knowing how to answer that. “Are you happy?”
He smiled, but it was brittle, and came nowhere near his eyes. What the hell had happened to him? “Oh, yes,” he said, “righting the wrongs, fighting injustice, defeating the monsters and the megalomaniacs. Life goes on as usual.”
There was a sudden and tangible silence.
“You didn’t answer the question,” said Sam.
“No, I didn’t, did I?” He looked thoughtful for a moment, but didn’t lose the hardness around the eyes. Sam didn’t like it.
When she’d travelled with him, he’d had a wonderful — and often infuriating — childlike quality. He’d tried to see the universe as something incredible, something new every day. He’d been through some horrible experiences, but he hadn’t lost that carefree innocence. It had been one of the things she’d loved most about him.
Before her now, though, she could see a person who had become resigned to the terrible, who seemed to have grown a shell around some enormous hurt that she couldn’t even begin to imagine. Someone who had been forced to become tougher because the universe had turned nasty. He’d had to grow up.
Sam couldn’t be sure if that was a good thing.
“Tell me one thing,” she said, putting her mug aside so that she could lean across the table and look him in the eyes. Those beautiful eyes, now more alien to her than ever. “How long has it been for you since we last met?”
There was a slight pause before he answered her. The words, when they came, were barely more than a whisper. “More than a hundred years.”
***
Her shocked expression must have been obvious.
The next moment he was on his feet. “I should go.”
“No — “ She reached out to catch his sleeve, to stop him running away, but he slipped through her fingers, heading for the door.
Please, don’t let me remember you like this.
He paused on the threshold, and she was suddenly stunned to see a wealth of affection in his eyes. It was such a change, such a familiar sight, that for a moment she couldn’t speak. He smiled at her, and it was warm, genuine. That smile belonged to the old Doctor, the real Doctor.
Sam tried to reach him. “Doctor — “
It was gone as quickly as it appeared. The mask was back in place. Cool, pale, empty.
“I just wanted to make sure you were all right,” he said softly, and then, before she could stop him, he was gone.
***
Sam sat at the table for a long time. Across the kitchen counter she could see the fairy lights on the Christmas tree winking on and off in the darkened lounge.
It took her several minutes to work out why she was crying.
***
Fitz had grown up, too. He arrived a couple of hours later, so late that Sam was sure the old biddies down the hall would be muttering. She had already opened the door, hearing footsteps on the stairs and guessing who it would be.
He hugged her, and felt warm, comfortable. Like the Doctor used to. But then she pulled back to look at him properly and she could see that he’d changed. It wasn’t really on the surface — he was older, of course, but she could sense the scars rather than see them. Somehow, humans seemed to handle emotional wounds better than Time Lords.
She was about to take him through to the kitchen, but the memory of the Doctor’s stranger’s face swam before her eyes.
“Let’s go for a walk,” she said, grabbing her coat.
***
They walked for some time in companionable silence.
Eventually she had to ask, had to know the truth. After a long moment, Fitz told her. He was reluctant at first, uncomfortable with breaking the Doctor’s trust, but as more and more came out he seemed to relax, as though relieved to finally get it all out in the open.
And Sam couldn’t believe what he told her.
***
“Oh, my — no wonder…” She shook her head. “He didn’t deserve all that.”
Sam’s first instinct was to run to the Doctor and cuddle him, tell him everything would be all right, just like he had done with her all those times. But she knew from experience that nothing anyone could say would possibly make things better.
She couldn’t stop thinking of him, all alone for a hundred years.
“It should never have happened,” said Fitz. Then he seemed to think, and added hesitantly, “I’ve been wondering, y’know, whether it did happen to somehow warn him about how careless he was being. He’s changed — “
“Yeah, well, a century alone can do that to a person,” Sam snapped. She looked at the floor. “Sorry.”
“It was Compassion’s idea. I’d have stayed with him if I could, but…” He shrugged helplessly. “I’m only human.” He looked out over the Thames and sighed. “He’s become distant. He doesn’t talk to me any more, not properly. It’s as if he finds it easier to talk to Anji because she doesn’t know who he is, what he’s done. I’m still there to remind him of what’s gone before.”
Sam didn’t need to ask who Anji was. She just couldn’t help wondering whether the latest companion had any idea what she’d let herself in for.
Fitz had his shoulders hunched, hands stuffed into his pockets. His breath fogged the air in front of him. “I don’t have a clue what he’s thinking. He deliberately makes sure we never know where we’re going.”
“Fitz, he’s an alien. I don’t think we could ever understand him.”
“I’m sure he’s angry with me for abandoning him like that.”
Sam shook her head. “After all that time? He doesn’t have the attention span to hold grudges.”
“Maybe he didn’t before, but he’s not the Doctor you remember, Sam. I think something in him died when Gallifrey did. Something we’ll never get back.”
There was a long pause. Fitz looked genuinely distressed. He did care about the Doctor after all.
“No,” Sam said, thinking back to the Doctor’s visit. That fleeting glimpse she’d had of the man she remembered, trying to escape the defensive shell. “He’s still there. You can get him back, you’ll just have to work at it.”
"Can’t you help me?”
She reached out to hug him again. “No, I belong to the past even more than you do. You’ll get him back.”
“I wish I had your confidence.”
“Please, Fitz. He needs you. You can’t let him go on like this. You have to help him.”
Eventually, he nodded. “I’ll do my best. I want the old Doctor back, too.”
For a long time they stood together, watching the sky. It was a clear night, the stars scattered like icing sugar across the velvet backdrop.
“Somewhere out there,” said Sam,” there’s injustice, tyranny, and suffering to be fought. There’re cities made of candyfloss and people made of stone. Possibly even people made of candyfloss. It’s where he belongs. You have to remind him he’s got work to do.”
She turned to Fitz, linked her arm through his. “Come on — I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
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