Strange how my heart beats, to find myself upon your shore.
Strange how I still feel my loss of comfort gone before.
Cool waves wash over and drift away with dreams of youth
So time is stolen...I cannot hold you long enough.
And so, this is where I should be now, days and nights falling by me.
I know of a dream I should be holding, days and nights falling by...
Soft blue horizons reach far into my childhood days
As you are rising to bring me my forgotten ways
Strange how I falter, to find I'm standing in deep water
Strange how my heart beats...to find I'm standing on your shore.
--Enya
Chapter 14: SHORE
And so he stayed.
Ace was released soon afterwards with several bottles of
medication and strict instructions about how to conduct herself during her
recovery. The doctor wanted her to use a wheelchair but, not surprisingly,
Ace insisted on walking out of the medical facility. She was stunned by
the sight that greeted her as she left the calm security of the hospital,
one arm through Romana's and the other through the Doctor's.
The Gardens were alive with activity. People were hurrying
hither and yon with purposeful looks on their faces bearing papers and
briefcases and messages. Groups of Felix's soldiers streamed from the
transport platform to HQ and back again and everywhere you looked people
were conferring, talking, consulting, shouting.
"What's going on here?" she asked.
"Organizing a new government isn't a job for the lazy," Byron
commented as he came out behind them, bearing Ace's release orders.
"Everyone's pulling double shifts. Garner hasn't left his office at the
Central Complex in like 36 hours...but don't worry. I've found you a nice
quiet corner, and things will soon calm down." He led them down to the
main floor of the Gardens and across the lawn to the underground equivalent
of the suburbs...a secluded corner of more spacious dwellings with their
own yards. "These were built by the original settlers," he explained,
leading them up the walkway. "They're in great demand for their space, but
Garner has always kept one open. I always suspected he was secretly
holding it in the hopes that some galactic celebrity might decide to drop
by," he said with a grin, opening the door to the house and standing aside,
"but it's been empty since the last occupants died. Just another of
Garner's little idiosyncracies that finally paid off."
Ace walked in, holding Romana's hand, her mouth open. She hadn't
expected such detail in a house that had been handmade out of rocks, sand,
and mud. The door opened onto an entryway that was tiled with irregularly
shaped handmade fired tiles. It was two stories tall and dominated by a
curved open staircase with wrought-iron railings. To the right there was a
spacious living room that was indeed well-lived in. It was furnished with
comfortable-looking sofas and chairs that were wide and low to the ground,
piled high with pillows and rugs. Hand-sewn tapestries hung the walls
between the tall windows and there were many, many candlesticks and
candelabras. Ace could see an old drafting table, worn smooth and shiny
with use, an ornate secretary that had cost someone hours of carving, and a
shoulder-high stone fireplace that looked big enough to roast a pig in.
The hardwood floors were covered with ecelctic multicolored rag rugs. To
the left was a dining room furnished in a similar style, and Ace could well
imagine the rest of the house. "Wow," she breathed. "It's so warm and
friendly...someone loved this place. This was a *home.*"
Byron nodded. "Yep. The couple that lived here were real
Renaissance people. Artists, scientists, scholars. They made practically
everything here, the paintings, the rugs, the furniture. Some of it was
handed down but most of it is original. Wait till you see the gardens they
put in."
The Doctor came in behind them and set Ace's valise in the
hallway. He put his hands on his hips and grinned. "What a marvelous
place!" he exclaimed.
Byron turned to look at him. "Well...I guess Garner finally got
that galactic celebrity in here after all," he said.
Ace had wandered into the living room and sank down on the big
couch. It seemed to swallow her and she fell back against the pillows,
sighing and letting her eyes fall closed.
"Ace, I'll get your things from Romana's TARDIS," the Doctor said.
"Thanks," she replied, already half-asleep. He left and the
quiet of the decades fell once again. Romana examined a painting that hung
in the front hallway.
"Would you like to see the garden?" Byron asked after a moment.
"Oh...yes, I would," she replied. They went out the front door
and around to the back of the house where Romana was surprised to find a
very elaborate and beautiful garden with a pool and a fountain and many
beds of flowers and tall trees. She sighed, breathing in the smell of the
many blooms. "How wonderful to have something like this at your home," she
said. "Who keeps it up?"
"The residents in this neighborhood take turns tending the yard
and the house," he replied. Romana sat down on a stone bench near the
pond. Byron kept his disance.
"So how is the reorganization going?"
"Oh, slow but sure. Garner's divided the colony into voting
districts, next week they're going to have elections for delegates to draw
up a colonial constitution."
"One thing has always puzzled me about this supposed takeover..."
"Reorganization, Romana. 'Takeover' has so many bad connotations."
"Whatever you call it, these kinds of changes usually only work
if the populace wants them to. Let's face it, Byron, aside from you guys
the citizens of this colony aren't known for their altruistic tendencies.
In fact, their reputation is pretty horrific. Garner's proposing a shift
to a more honorable way of life. Will they go for that?"
"Well, we'll see, won't we?"
"It's a big risk."
"Oh, I don't know. Most of the colonial residents are ordinary
people who have been under the thumb of the reigning dictatorship for so
long they don't even know that there's another way to do it. The pariah
scientists who founded this place are long dead. Their moral heirs have
been running the place for centuries, but I think most people, given a
chance, would just as soon discard that heritage."
"What if they don't?"
"If they don't, we'll close off the transport corridor and live
here. We've been completely self-sufficient for a long time now, we don't
need the colony for anything. If necessary we'll leave the planet and find
a new place for ourselves." Romana stared into the tranquil pond,
half-listening. Byron cocked his head and looked at her thoughtfully.
"What's really on your mind?"
She sighed. "I'm just worried about Ace."
"We all are," he said, his voice sympathetic. He glanced in
towards the house. "Do you think they've reconciled?"
She stood, thrusting her hands into her tunic pockets. "I think
it's a probationary truce," she said thoughtfully. "Sort of a trial
period."
"Not that it's any of our business," he added.
She smiled up at him. "Of course not." She started back towards
the house but as she passed him he put out a hand to stop her.
"How long are you going to stay?" he asked in as casual a tone as
he could manage.
She considered for a moment. "I don't know. I want to stay with
her for as long as she wants me to." She rubbed her arms as if she were
chilly. "She won't admit it, but she's going to need support. No one
should have to go through everything she's gone through...and still is
going through."
The Doctor returned shortly to the quiet house, which strangely
already felt like home. He bore several bags containing things he knew Ace
would need, clothes, things of that nature. He set the bags next to the
other one in the foyer, looking into the living room where Ace lay on the
sofa asleep. He walked in to bend over her, his face softening. She
looked so peaceful, the tide of her breath coming with slow evenness. He
stroked one hand gently across her cheek, a lump rising in his throat. She
stirred in her sleep and turned her head towards him, snuggling into the
voluminous pillows and blankets on the couch. He slipped one arm
underneath her shoulders and the other beneath her knees and lifted her off
the couch. She leaned her head insensibly against his shoulder as he
carried her up the stairs. His feet just seemed to know where to find the
bedroom, this house felt so comfortable and familiar. He found there
exactly what he'd known he would, a big four-poster with a mattress as
expansive and soft as a cloud, piled high with pillows. He just stood
there for a moment with her in his arms, fighting back tears. A hundred
memories assaulted him, memories of happier times when he had held her in
his arms like this, some of those times into bedrooms not unlike this one.
She'd be laughing and tugging at his tie or whispering into his ear...it
seemed like such a long time ago.
He gently laid her on the bed and covered her with a big down
comforter. She drew her knees up to her chest and pulled the blanket close
to herself, murmuring slightly in her sleep. He bent and gently kissed her
forehead, then left the room, leaving the door open in case she needed him.
He went downstairs to find Romana and Byron in the beautiful
garden behind the house. They were deep in conversation when he arrived,
conversation which ceased immediately at the sight of him.
He put on a fake smile. "Romana...you were going to take me to
fetch my TARDIS?"
She smiled back, and it was equally ersatz. "Sure. Do you want
to do that now? Where's Ace?"
"She's sleeping."
"What if she wakes up?"
"Romana, she's 34 years old. Calm down."
She shrugged. "Okay, let's go."
Theo and Angel sat silently on either side of her large desk.
He'd finished the daily briefing and now...they sat. There was no real
reason for him to stay but she did not dismiss him, just idly chewed on one
fingernail as she stared at the briefing notes which she'd had time to read
at least a dozen times.
He knew what she was waiting for. They had not spoken, really
spoken, since the day of Ace's miscarriage. She must have a thousand
questions, he thought to himself. Why doesn't she just ask them?
Finally she did. "Why didn't you tell me?" she said.
"It was nothing to do with you. No one knows. Sometimes I
forget myself."
"Forget? How can you forget that you're Universe?"
"Surprisingly easily. It's not like you, where you are both
human and Guardian. When I'm me, my existence as Universe seems like a
dream, and when I'm Universe, my life as myself seems like a delusion."
She shook her head in wonderment. "How do you stand it? And why
the secrecy?"
He sighed. "Theo, I'd advise you to forget that you know about
it. It can only taint your attitude towards me and hurt our relationship."
She looked hurt. "You don't think I could be objective?"
He paused. "No, I don't. No one could."
"But Angel...it's part of who you are, and you're my assistant
and it's important that I understand everything about you, and..."
She went on, but Angel had heard enough. He closed his eyes
briefly and made a small motion with his hand. Her words stopped as if cut
off by a sharp knife. She blinked and looked down at the briefing notes.
"What were you saying?" she asked.
"Nothing, " he said sadly. She frowned.
"Are you all right, Angel?"
He forced a smile. "Of course. What could be wrong?"
The days passed. The pandemonium on Ceres Beta died down as
things began to sort themselves out. Garner got the colony thinking about
their own future, and life in the Gardens slowy returned to normal.
In the quiet house, Ace had sunk into a state of semi-depression.
She went to bed before nightfall and slept almost to noon most days, and
when she did not sleep she sat in quiet contemplation, not speaking and
barely moving. The Doctor watched her surreptitiously for any signs of
further descent but saw none...nonetheless it worried him. He didn't think
she would have even eaten if he hadn't been there to prepare food. He was
doing a lot of that lately...in fact, since moving into this house it
seemed all he wanted to do was cook and bake. He spent hours in the
kitchen, poring through huge recipe files kept by the previous occupant,
hunting up ingredients from the markets in the east cavern, preparing
complicated reduction sauces and delicate baked goods. He wasn't totally
ignorant of the implications, after a death it was understandable to want
to engage in such a life-affirming pastime as cooking, but he couldn't deny
the comfort it was giving him. And so he cooked, most of the time far too
much food for himself and Ace to eat. Almost every day he found himself
taking dish after dish to the neighbors or over to Romana's TARDIS, which
was parked across the street on the corner. There was always someone to
eat all the food he fixed, if nothing else he would take it over to Gardens
HQ where there were always hungry soldiers and staff who would make quick
work of whatever he brought them. They started looking forward to his
visits, for everything he fixed was delicious. The Doctor became a common
sight walking about the Gardens floor carrying two big baskets full of
food. When they saw him coming, the neighborhood children would mob him,
knowing that he'd have something for them. Sometimes a soft oatmeal cookie
with raisings and pecans, or perhaps a puff pastry filled with chocolate
and custard, or delicately frosted petit fours with pretty designs painted
on them with colored icing.
For all Ace noticed, they could have been living on bread and
water. She would wordlessly eat whatever he put in front of her and return
to her brooding.
"I'm terribly worried about her," he told Romana as they walked
back to the house from HQ one afternoon. "She won't talk or move or do
anything but sit. I want to do something but I don't know how to help
her!" he exclaimed, rubbing his forehead with one hand.
Romana frowned. "It was a little bit like that right after she
moved in with me. She was very quiet and spent most of her time in the
gym, beating the hell out of the punching bag."
"I'd feel better if she did that, if she did *anything* but just
sit and stare."
"She came out of it after a few days, I think she'll come out of
this too. But you know her best, what do you think?"
"Yes, I know her best, but this is an entirely new side of her
that I've never seen before. Her normal reaction to a blow is anger, not
depression."
"But she's been angry for so long, a person can't keep that up
forever. Perhaps she doesn't have any anger left in her and so she's stuck
with sadness."
They were coming up to the house. The Doctor paused on the front
porch. "That very well may be." He started to open the door and then
paused to look back at her. "I have faith in her strength. I know she
will come out of this whole again, but it tears me up to see her like
this."
"Doctor, she's just lost a child. She does have a right to her
sadness."
He nodded. "You're right, of course. Are you coming in?"
"No, I'm supposed to have dinner with Byron."
He arched an eyebrow. "That so? Well, have a nice time." He
disappeared into the house. Romana shook her head at his foolishness and
headed for her TARDIS.
"Ace?" the Doctor called as he entered the house. She wasn't in
her usual spot in the living room window seat. He went upstairs and
checked the bedroom, but it was empty, the bed neatly made. Frowning, he
went back downstairs and walked through the house, calling her name. No
answer. He stood in the kitchen, hands on his hips, wondering where she
could have gotten off to when he spied her through the bay window over the
sink. She was in the garden on one of the stone benches, the one next to
the bed of gladiolas. Just the way she was sitting there tugged at his
hearts; her shoulders slumped and her head down, her hands folded demurely
in her lap. He went outside and carefully approached her.
"Ace?" She didn't acknowledge his presence. "It's a bit chilly
out, why don't you come inside?" When she didn't answer this either, he
moved closer and bent to look at her face...and was surprised to see that
she wasn't merely sitting there brooding, but was in fact staring quite
fixedly at the flower bed before her. As he looked at her she raised a
hand and pointed at it.
"These poor flowers are in terrible shape," she said softly.
"They are?" the Doctor stammered, unsure what to make of her
statement.
She nodded. "Look at them. There's tons of weeds, and they look
like they haven't been pinched back in months." He said nothing, not
bothering to ask where she'd come by this horticultural expertise. She
slid off the bench and crouched next to the flower bed. After a moment's
hesitation, she reached out, grasped a tall weed and pulled it out
forcefully, tossing it to the grass at her side. She pulled another, then
another. She settled into a cross-legged position on the ground and dug
in, her fingers forging through the tangled stems to root out the intruder
weeds. She glanced up at the Doctor and seemed surprised that he was still
there. "Umm...there's a basket of gardening tools in the mudroom. Could
you fetch it for me?"
"Oh! Of course," he said, and hurried off to collect the basket,
just happy that she had actually spoken. He set the basket next to her.
She reached in and pulled on the gardening gloves that were there, picked
up a trowel and started in on the caked soil of the flower bed. He stood
there watching her for some moments then went back inside, leaving her to
her ministrations.
Some hours later, the Doctor looked up from the recipe book he'd
been reading to note that it was nearly nine o'clock and the light was
almost gone. He stood and peered out the kitchen window to see Ace still
crouched by the flower beds, enthusiastically rooting around in the dirt.
He hurried outside. "Ace! It's almost dark, you'll go blind! What in the
world are you doing?"
She stood up and brushed off her knees. Her arms were dirty up
to the elbows, her hair hung in her face and her clothes were spotted with
mud and grass stains...but there was more life in her eyes than he'd seen
there in days. "It's a crime the way some plants are treated," she
commented, tossing the trowel into the basket. "These are such beautiful
flowers, you'd think they'd be better arranged." She went past him into
the house without further comment. He stared at her handiwork. In the few
hours she'd been out here she had managed to weed and replant most of the
beds near where she'd been sitting...and by the half-empty bag of peat moss
that was leaning up against a birch tree, she'd been tilling the soil in
the beds too. He had to admit, the flowers looked much better in her
presentation, and far healthier and more cared-for than they had this
morning.
He went back into the house and heard the shower running
upstairs...she would probably go straight to bed from there. He considered
going up to once again attempt conversation but decided against it.
The next morning, the Doctor awoke after a few hours' sleep to
the usual cheerful sunshine. He dressed, wondering if the artificial
day-cycle here in the Gardens could be modified to provide the occasional
overcast day...even sunshine could get old if uninterrupted.
He headed to the kitchen with a mind towards whipping up a nice
batch of brown-sugar-and-raisin popovers and a ham-and-cheese quiche. He
was putting away the previous night's dry dishes when he glanced out the
window...to see Ace already outside, on her hands and knees in the garden.
He watched her for a few moments, his mouth hanging open, the dishes
forgotten. She straightened and stretched her back, then turned her face
upwards and smiled into the light as if enjoying its warmth. A wide grin
spread about the Doctor's face and he thought he might cry at the sight of
that smile, which he had feared he would never see again.
He went outside and asked if she wanted a croissant or something,
but she merely glanced up and gave a brief shake of her head "no." Judging
that this was not the time to try to engage her, he went back to the house
and went about his own activities.
Ace stayed in the backyard all morning, working her way through
the flower beds, stopping only once to come in for a glass of juice. By
lunchtime the Doctor had finished not only the popovers and quiche, but had
also set a pork roast to baking in a lovely honey-orange glaze and left
some herbed bread dough to rise in the pantry. In between these culinary
projects he would sit at the bay window and watch her work. Just the fact
that she was engaging in any activity at all made him feel better. She was
going about her gardening with the single-mindedness she brought to most
everything she did, her t-shirt sleeves rolled up, the muscles in her arms
flexing as she dug and pulled.
She was mixing up some topsoil with peat moss and fertilizer when
he came out the back door with a plate and a glass. "Lunchtime!" he
announced. She looked up from the mixing pot.
"Oh...thanks. I'm starved." She pulled off her gloves and sat
down at the patio table. He sat down opposite her as she contemplated the
plate in front of her. "What's this pie stuff?"
"It's quiche, ham and cheese. And that's a lovely garlic tomato
soup with dill."
She took a bite. "Yummy," was her only comment. They sat
quietly for a few minutes as she ate. "I *have* noticed all the cooking
you've been doing, by the way. I wish I could say it was good, but I'm
afraid I didn't really taste most of it."
"That's understandable."
"Understandable or not, that seems to be the way of it."
A few more beats of silence passed. "I'm glad to hear your
voice," he said. "I've been worried about you."
She looked at him with a speculative expression for a moment,
considering a number of replies, some less charitable than others, but
shook them off and merely shrugged. "I guess I can see why."
"Can you tell me what you've been feeling these last few days?"
he asked quietly.
She set down her fork and crossed her arms on the table, looking
away. "I don't really want to talk about it right now," she said.
"Well, I think we should talk about it. Don't you think we might
be feeling some of the same things?" She didn't respond. "Ace...we used
to share everything."
"I know," she whispered, not moving. "But I can't right now,"
she continued, her voice cracking slightly on the last word. She rose,
picked up her trowel and soon was back in amongst the weeds and flowers.
Sighing, the Doctor picked up her plate and glass and returned to the
house.
This went on for several days. Ace's gardening mania continued
unabated. She would rise at dawn and have some of whatever the Doctor was
whipping up that morning (granted, she was a good deal more appreciative
and complimentary about his cooking than she'd been during her
near-catatonic stage), then head out into the garden, rolling up her
sleeves and twisting her hair into a tight plait. He would bring her some
lunch at midday, usually attempting to open up a dialogue with her, but
always unsuccesfully. She was willing to converse about impersonal
things...the food, the garden, the colonial reorganization...but nothing
any more meaningful than that despite his best efforts. He did manage to
convince her to come inside for dinner and sit with him, but these were
exercises in anxiety. The tension was thicker than the bouillabaisse, and
both of them were usually grateful for the excuse to return to their
activities, she to her gardening and he to his books and recipes.
One fateful afternoon, the Doctor received a phone call from
Garner asking if he and Ace would come up to Gardens HQ to watch his
colonial address that evening. It would be something of a celebration of
the ratification of the new constitution and they'd all be most grateful
for their presence, blah blah blah. Excited, the Doctor went outside to
the garden. Ace was in the potting shed where she'd set up a number of
flats for nurturing small seedlings until they were ready to plant.
"Ace!" he called as he approached. She poked her head out.
"What is it? You sound excited."
"We're invited to HQ for Garner's big address tonight!" She
emerged, carefully balancing a large flat of delicate green stems.
"Oh. Do we have to go?" she asked, moving towards the patio
table, which she had commandeered for gardening supplies.
His face fell. "I thought you'd want to! This is a big moment
for the colony and for Garner and the rest of the Gardens."
She placed the flat on the table and turned towards him, brushing
off her hands. "I just don't know if I really want to attend a big social
gathering."
He stepped forward, frowning. "It won't be that big, and
everyone's been asking about you. We don't have to stay long if you don't
want to."
Her face darkened. "I said I don't want to go, okay?" she said,
latent anger in her voice.
He moved closer, lowering his voice and wanting nothing more than
to finally reach her. "Ace, you can't hide here forever. I know how hard
this has hit you, but *you're* still alive."
She stared at him, uncomprehending. She wasn't sure what he was
trying to say, all she knew was that he was blaming her for something
again. In a surprising burst of anger that came from somewhere deep inside
her, her hand flashed out and struck his cheek. He jerked backwards, more
surprised than hurt. Appalled at herself, Ace quickly turned away and her
hip struck the flat she'd just set down, sending it flying off the table to
strike the patio, dirt and seedlings scattering over the cobblestones.
Ace uttered a strangled cry at the sight of her carefully
cultivated stems spilled everywhere and whirled on him again, her anger
boiling over.
"Look at that!" she cried, pointing. "Look what you made me
do...I've been nurturing those seedlings for days and now they'll die!"
Her voice was spiralling higher into a near-shriek. The Doctor stared at
her, horror and shock paralyzing him. She fell on her knees next to the
pile of potting soil and seedlings and began clumping them together with
her hands, trying to get them back into the flat, although it was painfully
evident that she was doing more harm than good. "I've got to get them back
in the soil," she said, her voice choked. "Otherwise they'll die, they'll
be dead," she kept repeating. She tried for a few more seconds to salvage
the mess but then gave up, holding her dirt-clotted fingers up in front of
her. She wailed at the sight of them. "Oh God, it's no use, it's no use,
they're all dead, oh God oh God..." She pressed her hands to the sides of
her head, her words dissolving into screaming sobs, the kind that she'd
been uttering silently for two weeks now.
The Doctor stared at her, kneeling in the dirt on the patio, her
mud-streaked arms thrown over her head. He could only think of one thing
to do, but he didn't know if it would be right or wrong...but then he
decided he didn't much care if it was wrong or not, he had to do it. He
knelt beside her and drew her onto his lap, pressing her head to his
shoulder and holding her quaking body as tightly as he could, feeling sobs
tightening his own chest. After a second he felt her arms wrap around him
like a vise, her fingers clutching at his jacket. She was still
semi-hysterical and it scared him, but somewhere in the back of his mind he
knew that for someone as emotional as Ace, this was probably a necessary
catharsis. She was still speaking but it was mostly incoherent underneath
her sobs. After a few seconds he realized that her cries of "they're dead,
they're dead" had morphed into "she's dead, she's dead." He wrapped his
arms around her tighter and rocked with her.
"I know, I know," he whispered, pressing his cheek against her
forehead. Tears poured down his cheeks and fell onto her face to mingle
with hers. Ace shifted in his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck,
feeling his sobs as well as her own. Together they wept, holding each
other, there on the patio amongst the remnants of flowers that would never
be.
"I suppose in a book that would have been the great healing
event," he was to tell Theo much, much later. "Everything would have been
wonderful after that. Unfortunately...life seldom resembles a book."
What actually happened was that after a few minutes both of their
tears petered out, and as Ace got herself under control, she pulled away
and stared at him with a wary, shocked expression on her face, as if she'd
never seen him before. It was the face of a woman awaking from what she is
sure must be a dream, and not a very pleasant one at that. She stood
quickly and rubbed her hands across her wet eyes, a blank expression on her
features, and then she hurried off towards the potting shed without a word.
The Doctor stayed kneeling on the patio for a moment, gathering
his wits. He wiped his face with his handkerchief and stood, feeling a
little unsure of his footing. His chest felt hollow and spent and his face
puffy and sore. He slowly approached the shed...he could see Ace working
from through the slotted wall. Her back was to him and she was digging in
something he could not see, her arms pistoning, and he could hear her raspy
breathing from where he stood. As he watched she paused and leaned on the
bench, her head down and her shoulders quaking. The Doctor sighed and
turned away. This was not the time...but there would be other times. He
was just thankful that she had shared that unguarded moment with him, and
it made him even more determined to mend their relationship, and at the
same time more confident that it could be mended.
Things returned more or less to normal. Ace did not bring up
their grief-induced tryst on the patio, and out of respect for her feelings
he did the same. Nonetheless, he found reason for hope in her behavior.
She was still soberly unsmiling and singularly focused on her gardening,
which was the only thing that gave her any pleasure, yet she
seemed...easier, more relaxed. She would converse with him on her own
initiation, she would take one of the numerous books from the even more
numerous bookshelves and read, and she even began taking excursions out
into the Gardens, alone or with Romana.
The Doctor's cooking became less and less of a diversion to keep
him from losing his mind and more and more a hobby that he genuinely
enjoyed...a change he attributed chiefly to Ace's increasing appreciation
and of it. He was cooking with the knowledge that someone would enjoy it
later, and he was surprised to find how much rewarding that rendered the
activity.
He was putting up some soup stock when Ace wandered into the
kitchen. She went to the refrigeration and poured herself a glass of
juice...but something about the way she was going about it made him look
up. She was moving slowly as if she had something to say and wasn't quite
sure how to get it started. After a few moments of standing around with
the glass in her hand she proved him correct.
"Are you busy?" she asked with a forced air of nonchalance.
He wiped his hands on a towel. "Not really. Why?"
"Like to go for a walk with me? To the market, perhaps?"
He smiled. "Love to. Let me get my market basket."
A short time later they left the house and set off across the
Gardens. The quiet neighborhood where they'd been staying was on the
southeast side of the main floor. The auxiliary cavern where the markets
were was on the far side, so to get there they would pass through the
central Gardens and several other groups of dwellings, a distance of about
a mile and a half. It was a very nice walk, one which the Doctor had made
by himself many times.
It would have felt so natural to take her hand or her arm, but he
restrained himself. He had determined that she would set the pace, he
didn't want to rush her.
"The reorganization is going very well," she commented.
"Indeed. Everyone seems satisfied with the new constitution,
barring a few fringe elements."
"Fringe elements?"
"Yes. Some scientists and citizens of a more Machiavellian bent
of mind have decided to leave the colony."
"Decided?" Ace said skeptically.
"That's what they tell me."
She fell silent, thinking. "What if they had decided to stay?
What would have happened?"
"I don't know. I suppose they would have tried to co-exist, even
though the new constitution includes lengthy statues mandating ethical
experimentation."
They walked quietly for a few paces, then she spoke again.
"Suppose the constitution hadn't been ratified and the colony decided to
cast Garner and the others out. What would you have done?"
"What would *I* have done?" he asked, frowning. "There would
have been nothing I could have done. I would have been disappointed, but
it wouldn't have been right to step in and try to force the
reorganiztion...and probably futile."
She stopped walking. The Doctor sighed inwardly. Here it comes,
he thought. She would vociferously express her disapproval of that
sentiment...he knew that Ace always wanted to do what she viewed as right,
to go charging in with both barrels. It had always been a point of
contention between them. He'd briefly considering lying or dodging her
question, but she deserved the truth. He turned towards her...and was
shocked to see her smiling.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He tentatively returned the smile. "For what?"
"For being honest."
He was genuinely puzzled. "I don't understand."
She began walking again and he fell into step beside her. "If
you'd said that you would have marched up to the colony and shown them the
error of their ways, I would have gone immediately to Romana and asked her
to take me away from here....because you would have been lying,
sugar-coating your nature to make yourself more palatable to me, telling me
what I wanted to hear. That's the same as saying you have no faith in my
judgment, in my ability to look at the real you with objectivity and make
my decisions. Get it? I know how hard you're trying," she continued,
giving him a sidelong glance, "but the most important thing is that you're
still being yourself, for better or for worse. If you weren't, there'd be
no point."
She fell silent and showed no sign of having more to say, but the
Doctor was just about bursting with things to say, most of which would have
been unproductive. That was the longest series of words she'd spoken to
him since the miscarriage, and no matter what the subject he had to feel
that was a positive sign. "I know you," he said quietly. "I trust you.
You have spoken the truth to me always...you deserve no less in return."
They walked on, not speaking...then she unobtrusively slipped her
arm through his, not looking at him or slowing her steps. He did not
acknowledge the gesture (aware as he was that such acknowledgement would
ruin the moment), but his hearts rejoiced.
One of the things the Doctor had been half-dreading happened some
days later as he and Ace returned from another trip to the market. Those
trips had become part of a daily routine for them and they both looked
forward to them as innocuous time they could spend together without having
to be on edge all the time, though they did not say as much to each other.
They returned this particular afternoon laden down with produce
and fresh ingredients to find Theo sitting calmly on the sofa in the living
room. Ace froze in the hallway, the bags in her arms forgotten. She set
them down mechanically and stepped forward, her eyes locked onto the
Guardian. Theo stood and faced her, though she seemed reluctant to meet
Ace's openly hostile stare.
"Get out of here," Ace said in a grimly cold voice.
"Ace..." Theo began.
"No," Ace said, cutting her off. "I don't want to hear it. You
are not welcome here, Theo." The Doctor came up to stand behind Ace's
shoulder, looking pained at this exchange.
"Please, hear me out," Theo said.
"I won't. I won't listen and I won't hear you out. There's
nothing you can say that will make me forget that you could have saved my
daughter's life and you prevented us from reaching you!" Ace said, her
voice curling into a snarl, her fists clenching by her sides.
"There was nothing I could have done," Theo whispered, her face
twisted into an expression of sadness and regret.
"I'm leaving now," Ace hissed. "I expect you to leave
immediately. If you have any regard for my feelings, if you ever
considered me a friend, then you will never show your face to me
again...not just because of what you did but because I cannot stand the
sight of you!" she cried, her voice choking over the last few words. She
covered her face with her hands and ran from the room.
The Doctor turned to Theo, his face dark. "You shouldn't have
come here, Theo."
As soon as Ace was gone Theo's features smoothed out, the
angstful expression disappearing. "I wouldn't have if there weren't a
reason for it," she said calmly.
His composure was tested by her calmly manipulative demeanor.
Theo always had her own agenda and, as usual, her surface actions seldom
reflected it. It was ironic that he should find it so upsetting, for it
was a characteristic they shared. "I don't give a damn about your
reasons!" he exclaimed. "Ace is starting to center herself, and she
doesn't need you showing up and getting her all churned up again."
Theo stepped up to him and stared down into his face, one eyebrow
cocked. "If I could have traded my life for your daughter's, I would have
done it. I don't need to explain myself to you, do I?"
He held her gaze for a moment then looked away. "No, you don't.
I know why you couldn't help."
"Then consider this: Ace is sitting on a lot of anger, which is
perfectly natural. At whom would you rather have it directed, you or me?"
He looked up, a bit startled. She gave him a crooked half-smile and patted
his shoulder. "Good luck, Doctor." She swept past him and headed for the
door.
"Theo?" he said. She stopped and turned back towards him.
"Someday she will forgive you."
She thrust her hands into her pockets. "Perhaps she will and
perhaps she won't. That's the downside of being me, I guess. I have to do
things that alienate my friends." She glanced towards the rear of the
house in the direction that Ace had headed. "But if I can help the two of
you reconcile it won't have been a total loss." She tipped him a wink.
"Silver linings, Doctor." Her form shimmered briefly and was gone. The
Doctor blinked at her sudden departure and rubbed his forehead. She was
like some kind of alien wind that blew in without warning, ruffled everyone
up and then blew on to locations unknown, leaving you to wonder what she'd
really been made of in the first place.
He found Ace sitting cross-legged by the pond in the garden, her
head propped on one hand, trailing one finger idly in the water. He
crouched beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right?"
he asked.
She nodded. "Yes. It's just that when I think about her, I
just...I can't see straight or think straight knowing what she did...or
rather what she didn't do."
"I know."
She looked up at him, a confused expression in her eyes. "Feels
strange to hate her...everyone is supposed to love her."
"You have a right to be angry. I was angry at her too, so much I
could hardly think of anything else."
"Not anymore?"
He sighed and sat down beside her. "Well...I suppose I can
empathize with the situation she's in. I can hate what she allowed to
happen but at the same time..."
"You understand why."
"Yes." He stared into the pond, feeling her weary rage.
"I suppose I do too," she said quietly. "It makes perfect
sense." She tossed a stone into the water, watching the ripples scatter
and merge. "Makes me feel all the worse for hating her for it."
"Just go with the flow. It's not healthy to try and swim against
the tide."
"Quite so. Apt to drown that way." She smiled crookedly at him,
swiped at her eyes and got up get her tools from the potting shed. The
Doctor watched the ripples in the pond smooth out and dissipate,
tranquility returning to the water.
An uneventful week passed. The people who lived in the
neighborhood began to stop by as Ace became more and more communicative.
She would show them around the gardens and they would all sit in the living
room and eat whatever the Doctor had taken into his head to fix that day.
They would always exclaim over the hot mountain tea with beet sugar steeped
into it or the filo-dough pastries with cheese and mushrooms or the Krevian
butter-rounds rolled in cocoa powder. They would talk about the largely
successful reorganization, the likelihood of Garner collapsing from utter
exhaustion, the rumors that Byron was smitten with Romana or the
possibility of moving to the surface...innocuous conversation that did not
stir up any heavy emotions. Ace seemed to enjoy these visits, which
cheered the Doctor considerably. She'd always been a very social person
and her withdrawal from society had worried him.
He was sitting in the kitchen window seat one afternoon when she
came in to fix herself a sandwich. She didn't speak to him but merely sat
down at the kitchen table with her plate. Lately he'd taken to letting her
initiate conversations. It was more informative...otherwise he was never
sure if she would have spoken if he had not.
"I had a thought this morning," she said as she stood up to take
her plate to the sink.
"I wager you had more than one," he chided her.
She gave him a "very funny" look and continued. "I think it
would be nice to have some people over for dinner or brunch or something.
Not a big deal, just Romana and Garner and Byron and perhaps Syrah, or
Mona."
He regarded her speculatively. "Are you sure you're...up to that
kind of entertaining?"
She put her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow at him. "I
wouldn't have suggested it if I weren't," she said.
He smiled, delighted at the suggestion...and the fact that it had
been *her* suggestion. "Then I think it's a smashing idea. I'd love to
cook a big dinner for everyone."
"I thought you might," she said bemusedly, glancing around at the
packed shelves and stuffed icebox. "We could have it the day after
tomorrow...Romana told me that Garner's due back at HQ for a few days'
rest."
"Good. He's been working almost round-the-clock with the
reorganization."
"Then it's decided. I'll spread the word tomorrow!" She smiled
and went back outside, a bit of a bounce in her step. The Doctor put down
his book and set out to plan the menu, feeling absurdly like he might cry.
The night of the dinner party the two of them flitted about the
house like ninnies. Ace had spent most of the day hunting up dishes and
something to use as linens as well as cutting flowers to arrange in
seemingly endless numbers of bouquets to place around the house. The
Doctor, needless to say, had passed the day in the kitchen immersed in pots
and pans and bowls.
"Wow," was Ace's only comment as he laid out the repast on the
dining room table. There was a beef roast that had been marinated and
roasted in teriyaki pineapple sauce, a whole leg of lamb with crushed basil
and mint jelly, sugared asparagus, chicken with plum garlic sauce, bowls of
aromatic French onion soup with cheese pastry baked over them, diced
potatoes and yams roasted with garlic and cheese, steamed broccoli with
curry sauce, just to name a few...and for dessert he'd prepared fruit brule
which was still in the icebox, a huge triple layered fudge mocha cake with
fudge filling and a tart key lime pie with cocunut meringue.
He wiped a hand theatrically across his brow as the last dish was
placed. Their guests were due any moment. "It better be good for all the
time it took," he said.
"My mouth is watering already," she said, patting his shoulder.
She glanced at her watch. "Late as usual," she commented. At that moment
the communication circuit rang. The Doctor went to answer it, leaving Ace
to poke her finger at the mocha cake frosting, unable to resist. He
returned momentarily.
"That was Garner. He said he'd be a few minutes late but not to
hold dinner for him."
"No rest for the weary, I guess."
They sat down on the divan next to the kitchen door and waited in
silence. Ten minutes passed. Finally the Doctor stood up and took the
roast and the lamb back to the kitchen and put them in the warming oven.
"Perhaps they got hung up at HQ," Ace said.
"You'd think at least Mona would be on time."
"Guardians don't quite reckon time in the same way as we do."
"Yes, but Romana's a *Time* Lady, for Rassilon's sake!"
"Calm down! You've never been what you'd call terrifically
punctual yourself."
"It's different when I spent all day cooking!"
She poked her finger into the plum sauce over the chicken.
"Mmm...this is fabulous."
"Good, I made it up."
"Really? How did you know it wouldn't be horrible?"
"I didn't until now." He stood up and wandered about aimlessly
while Ace picked up a fork and began nibbling at the dishes on the table.
"Don't do that," he said.
"Why not?" she said, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.
"It uh...spoils the presentation."
"Oh really?" She ran a finger along the rim of the key lime pie
and got a good blob of meringue on it. "How about this?" Her hand darted
out almost of its own volition and smeared it on his cheek. "If the food's
presentation is spoiled, might as well spoil *your* presentation too," she
said, unsure what had possessed her to do that.
He stared at her, surprised. She licked off her finger,
supressing a giggle. He grinned, so amazed to hear anything remotely
resembling a laugh from her that he stopped caring about the bloody
presentation. "Oh yeah?" he countered, stabbing two fingers into the fudge
cake. "Tit for tat," he said, and in a flash her smooth cheek was
decorated with a big gob of chocolate icing and fudge filling.
She took up a convenient glass of ice water out of sheer reflex
and threw it at him. "Ha ha! That got you!" she cried gleefully as he
spluttered. He reached out and grabbed at the first thing his hands
happened on...a bowl of homemade cranberry sauce. He flung a handful of
the red goo at her. She tried to jump out of the way but it got her right
in the upper chest. They stood there, staring at each other, for a
moment...him dripping wet and her with chocolate and cranberries all over
her...and then it was all over. Before you could say "free-for-all" the
air was full of flying food. Syrupy asparagus flew through the air,
starchy mortars of cheesy potatoes were launched, stalks of curried
broccoli were hurled like javelins. Their shrieks and laughter and cries
of "Take that!" were punctuated by wet splats and interjections as the
culinary missiles struck home.
Ace grabbed the key lime pie and smooshed it right in his face
just as he was cocking back his arm to throw a nice handful of teriyaki
stuffing at her. The pie pan fell away leaving the gelatinous lime filling
to drip from his face. "That got you!" she laughed, jumping up and down,
barely recognizable through the seven-course layers all over her. He
smeared it away with one arm and the teriyaki stuffing was in her hair in a
matter of seconds. A jug of milk was dumped over her head, half of the
fudge cake was shoved down his shirt...soon enough they were on opposite
sides of the table hurling small projectiles at each other. Pineapple
rings, chocolate-covered strawberries, what was left of the sugared
asparagus.
"Gotcha!" Ace cried as a handful of dressing-laden lettuce hit
the mark.
"You'll never take me alive!" Sploosh of brandy slush.
"Aahh, that's cold! Revenge is mine!" An entire platter of
assorted cheese slices.
"HA! Resistance is futile!" Big gob of parmesan mashed potatoes.
Eventually they ran out of food. They stood there in front of
the table, looking around for anything to throw...then their eyes met and
they burst into hysterical laughter at the sight of each other. His hair
was sticking up in wild spikes of meringue, his face mostly covered with
key lime filling and his shirt a rich mocha fudge brown...her head was wet
with a mixture of milk and slush and her clothing a multicolored menu of
the dinner that was now solidifying in a mass on the floor.
This was the scene that met Romana and Byron as they came into
the dining room, having let themselves in. Romana's jaw dropped at the
sight of them, doubled over with shrieks of laughter, clinging to each
other to keep from falling right on the ground, smearing the gobs of food
into each other's faces and hair. She and Byron exchanged a dumfounded
glance. "What's going on here?" she asked.
They looked up, startled out of laughter. "Ummm..." the Doctor
stammered. Ace was shaking with suppressed giggles. "She started it!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not..." They both dissolved into hysterics once again.
Romana and Byron could not help but laugh with them.
Two hours later the group was relaxing in the living room,
sprawled on the big chairs, nibbling on what had been salvageable from
dinner. The Doctor and Ace were wet-haired and cleaned up and the dining
room had been set to rights with help from Romana and Byron, and later
Garner, who had showed up about half an hour late to find them all
scrubbing walls and mopping floors.
"I think this incident deserves some kind of official
documentation," Romana said with a twinkle in her eyes.
Ace laughed. The Doctor smiled at her, thinking that if she did
nothing but laugh for the rest of her life he'd never get tired of the
sound of it. "Or at least pictures of the Doctor with key lime pie
dripping from his face!"
Garner let his head fall back and fetched a deep sigh. "I can't
tell you how good it feels to just sit here and not have people pounding at
my door."
"I can't tell you how good it feels...just to feel good," Ace
said quietly. She exchanged a smile with Romana, a smile loaded with a
hundred subtexts of pain and loss and sadness.
The conversation winded its way through topics both personal and
casual as the group consumed quarts of hot cider and bowl after bowl of
popcorn, which the Doctor seasoned with the unlikely but delicious
combination of lime juice and cayenne pepper. Darkness gradually fell
outside the floor-to-ceiling leaded glass windows and everyone started to
yawn. Romana spooned up the last bit of the mocha fudge layer cake, which
she had fallen so desperately in love with that she'd scarcely let anyone
else have a bite. Byron stood up. "Well...I know I need to get some
beauty sleep," he said, stretching.
Romana got to her feet as well and elbowed him. "So we should
wake you in a few weeks?" she said teasingly.
"Hey, I resemble that remark," he said, smiling down at her. The
Doctor and Ace exchanged an amused glance at the familarity of this
exchange. "Are you leaving too?"
She looked down at their hosts. "I think I should," she said,
making the Doctor wonder if she thought she should leave because of her or
because of them. Ace rose to hug her, and they walked Byron and Romana to
the door. Good-byes were exchanged and hands were shaken, then they were
gone. The Doctor and Ace returned to the living room where Garner was
standing in the (simulated) moonlight streaming in the front window,
staring out at the Gardens. Ace flopped back onto the sofa but the Doctor
wandered over to stand next to the rebel leader.
"What's on your mind?" he asked. Garner glanced at him, a
wistful look on his face.
"All I ever wanted my whole life was to bring peace and honor to
this colony," he said. "I fought to bring down those whose hearts were
bereft of goodness, but..." He sighed. "I never really realized that if I
got my wish, I would probably have to give up this place."
"You can still live here, can't you? You don't have to move to
the surface."
"I could, but it would be excessively inconvenient. I really
need to be there round the clock." Ace turned round on the couch and
watched them. "I guess you really can't go home again."
"Of course you can," she said, her brow furrowing. "This place
will always be here, and it will always be home, and it will always be here
for you to come back to. It will always be the same."
Garner shook his head. "But *I* won't be the same. I can never
live here again in the way that I lived here before, and it will be a
different place for me." He leaned his forehead against the glass. "Once
you leave, everything changes. You can try to recapture it but it's no
use. You're different, it's different, and no matter how good your life
becomes that past time is gone forever." The Doctor's gaze was dragged as
if by some outside force to Ace's face. She was returning the stare, a
vaguely pained look on her face. She looked away and drew the afghan
tighter around her shoulders. Garner shook himself and smiled at them.
"Oh, listen to me. Bringing everyone down after such a wonderful evening.
Well...I'd better be going as well. I promised Byron I'd get some sleep
while I'm here." The Doctor saw him to the door after he bid goodnight to
Ace, then turned back to the shadowy living room.
Ace had risen to clear away some of the dishes. He followed suit
and they took up the dishwashing in the kitchen. "It was a wonderful
evening," she said with a smile.
"Yes, quite nice. Pity my...presentation couldn't last," he
said, nudging her.
She grinned. "You started it."
"Did not."
"Did too!" she said, raising a soap-laden washcloth threateningly.
"Okay! Truce!" he cried, throwing his hands up in surrender.
She laughed. "Truce." They finished the dishes, talking easily
and familiarly...it was almost like old time. When the last plate was
dried and put away, Ace stretched and yawned. "I'm beat, Doctor. Off to
bed for me." He turned to watch her go.
"Good night, Ace." She waved without looking back and disppeared
around the corner. He stood there for a moment, undecided...then hurried
through to the foyer just as she began ascending the stairs.
She stopped on the first riser as he came into sight. Her
expression was expectant yet wary...as if she'd been expecting that she
would not make it to the solitude of her room without being stopped. He
stood there, one step below her, all coherent words flying from his mind as
he wondered what it was he wanted to say to her. "What is it?" she asked
softly.
He reached out and took her hand, smiling. "It was very good to
hear you laugh tonight," he said.
Ace returned the smile. "It felt good. I haven't...felt like
laughing in quite some time."
"I know, neither have I." He looked away, a lump rising in his
throat. He realized that he was on the verge of tears, a feeling that took
him completely by surprise. He'd shoved his own grief to the far corners
of his mind so he could concentrate on helping Ace any way he could...now
that she seemed on the road to recovery he supposed his sadness over their
shared loss could well be expected to sneak up on him. He gripped her hand
tighter and blinked rapidly. "It's like having a hole inside you, a black
hole that sucks up any cheerful or good feeling that might cross your
heart."
Her face creased into a sympathetic expression. "Yes...that's
exactly what it's like...that's just how I felt, and feel..." She trailed
off. He met her eyes.
"Everything, every sound and every smell and every sensation
reminds me of what she will never experience," he choked out. He sighed, a
rattling hoarse sigh.
Ace felt about two inches tall. She had lost a child, and that
thought and those feelings had consumed her utterly...but it had scarcely
crossed her mind that he had also lost a child, and he hadn't even had the
month's worth of anticipation that she'd had. Wrapped in her own grief,
she hadn't thought that he might be suffering just as she was. Why had
they suffered separately while they lived under the same roof?
Before she was really aware she was going to do it, she dropped
his hand, leaned forward and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his
shoulders. She could feel him softly weeping, but felt no urge to do so
herself. She had cried enough, and comforting him made her feel better.
The Doctor returned the embrace, his tears wetting her shirt.
Sadness flowed from him like blood from an open wound, but it felt so
cleansing to release it. As his tears abated he became marginally aware of
another sensation. He was holding Ace in his arms, something he'd not done
in what felt like a thousand years, and as inappropriate as it seemed it
was wonderful to feel her skin beneath her clothes and the familiar curves
of her body pressed against him. For most of his life he'd been as
celibate as a monk, but here in his arms was the only woman he'd ever
really wanted...and he still wanted her, it was futile to try and put it
out of his mind, it was merely a fact of life.
He swallowed and pulled back, intending to step away, run to the
kitchen and cook the most complicated recipe he could find...but she didn't
release him.
Ace looked down at his wet face and raised her hands to it,
wiping the tears away with her fingers. He was staring up at her with the
queerest expression on his face. She could feel his arms around her waist
and the coolness of his skin beneath her fingers. The Doctor stepped up to
the step on which she stood and, almost in spite of himself, he leaned in
towards her, his eyes roving over her features. She realized with a start
that he was about to kiss her...and even more of a shock was that she
wanted him to. She wanted him to kiss her and then she wanted to kiss him
back and throw her arms around him and feel his touch again.
The Doctor's heart leapt at her receptiveness, after all this was
the first time he'd dared touch her in any way that could remotely be
considered sexual, and their lips were just about to touch when suddenly
she froze and went stiff as a two-by-four in his arms. He pulled back at
once...her face was pale and no trace of her former warmth remained. Her
lips were pressed into a thin line and her eyes were full of horrified
confusion. His mouth fell open but no sound came out. He stepped back to
the floor of the foyer, releasing her from his embrace. She stood there
for a moment, staring at him, then backed up the stairs a few risers, her
shaking fingers trailing along the balcony. Without a word she turned and
fled up the stairs as fast as her feet could carry her. He heard her door
slam and the bed creak as she threw herself onto it. He took a deep breath
and calmed himself. Take it easy, he told himself. One step at a time.
He went into the kitchen and sank into his favorite chair at the small
table he used for a desk. He considered opening his ledger and writing in
it...but then his head dropped into his hands and he just sat there,
dejected.
Ace lay on the bed on her back, her hands over her face. What
were you about to do? she berated herself. You were about to kiss him!
Have you forgotten? So all it takes is a few nice dinners and a food fight
and all is forgiven? But...but...
"But nothing," she whispered, cutting herself off. "That didn't
just happen. Put it out of your mind." But it had happened, and she knew
it, and there was no going back.
The Doctor looked up after an indeterminate time spent sitting at
the desk brooding and at first couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the
first signs of light out the window. Could it be dawn already? He glanced
up at the clock. 6:30. He had been sitting here all night. He went to
the icebox and stared into it...but he couldn't think of a single thing to
cook.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Steeling himself, he tried to
act natural, getting out some bowls and utensils. Ace walked quickly
through the kitchen to the French doors that led to the garden, her hands
to her head as she bound her hair up. She didn't glance his way but swept
outside without a word.
He tried to cook some breakfast but nothing was turning out. The
hardboiled eggs were overcooked and green, he cut his finger chopping green
peppers and his souffle fell in the oven when Ace slammed a door outside.
He was contemplating the sorry-looking deflated thing when the French doors
opened and Ace came stalking in, tossing her gloves onto the table.
The morning and early afternoon slowly ticked by. The tension
hung in the air like a living thing, pursuing anyone who tried to escape
its tentacles. Ace didn't return to her gardening but sat at the secretary
and attempted to write letters for a time. The Doctor heard her frequently
crumple the sheet of paper she was writing on and toss it over her
shoulder, often cursing under her breath. For himself, the Doctor had
never dropped so many dishes in his life. Finally he gave up and went into
the living room with a thought towards working out some calculations he'd
been putting off for months. He'd brought them from the TARDIS databanks
weeks ago thinking he'd finally have time to work on them. So far he
hadn't...but no time like the present.
He settled at the big drafting table and he and Ace proceeded to
spend the afternoon walking circles around each other. No words were
spoken, no looks were exchanged, they even had their backs to each other
most of the time but at every second each was excruciatingly aware of the
other.
By dinnertime the Doctor was just about ready to burst with
frustration. Neither of them had eaten but no one mentioned food. Ace had
given up on her letters and had been restlessly pacing and puttering for
hours. She'd pick up a book only to throw it down twenty minutes later.
She'd settle on the window seat then get up again. The Doctor had been
staring at the same equation and writing and erasing the same set of
calculations over and over again all afternoon. He couldn't concentrate
and his head felt like a swarm of bees was buzzing about inside it. All he
could do was wait...for he knew that she couldn't hold it in forever.
And indeed she couldn't. Just as the Gardens light began to fade
towards its "sunset" setting, she went over to the fireplace and began to
build a fire. They'd never lit the fire before although the fireplace was
perfectly serviceable. She stacked the wood, lit the kindling and soon
enough a fire was blazing. She picked up the poker, squatted in front of
the blaze like a squaw and began poking viciously at the embers. He
watched her, transfixed by the expression on her face. He imagined it was
the same expression she wore heading into battle...grimly expressionless
and stony.
Just when he thought he couldn't stand it any longer, she threw
down the poker with a rattle and stomped into the center of the room. He
turned to face her. She began speaking without preamble...they'd spent the
entire day psyching themselves up for this, after all.
"After you left me, I promised myself...I made a *solemn oath*
that I would never again let myself in for that kind of pain. That I would
never allow you that kind of power over me, never again!" she exclaimed,
gesturing expansively. She jabbed her finger at him. "I hated you so much
for what you did, and it felt really good to hate you because it covered up
how much you hurt me!" she cried. "But you can't even let me have that,
can you? You've got to show up all sorry and regretful and with that
hangdog look on your face and make me feel guilty for hating you!"
"My intention was not to make you feel guilty," he said quietly.
"That's not the point!" She took a deep breath and pressed two
fingers to her forehead. "Don't you get it? Can't you see? You ruined
everything! Everything! You took the life that we worked *so hard* to
build and you just threw it away like so much rubbish," she said
forcefully, her voice hoarse. "Our marriage meant everything to me...but
it didn't mean as much to you."
"It did!" he said, getting up. "Would I be here if it..." She
held up a hand and stopped him.
"I'm going to have my say." He fell silent. She bit her lip.
"You said that you loved me."
"I do love you."
"You said you wanted to be with me all the time."
"I do."
"And then you threw it back in my face."
He closed his eyes. "I don't know what else to say but I'm sorry."
"And now you expect me to just take you back? How can I *ever*
trust you again? How can I ever believe anything you say? Tell me that."
"I don't know," he whispered, looking at the floor.
"I gave you my life!" she shouted, startling him. There was a
raw edge to her voice that made his blood run cold. "I gave you my love
and my trust and everything that made me whole but it meant nothing to you,
it meant nothing to you at all!" She was almost shrieking now. She strode
forward and grabbed him by the lapels, punctuating her words with rough
shakes. "And now our daughter is gone and all we have left is each other
and here you are like nothing at all has happened and I want to hate you
and leave you and never look at you again but by far the worst part of it
is that I can't do that. I've been so angry because it's hard to accept
that you're about to win again but I don't know what else to do, and the
thing is that I love you with all of what's left of my soul and there's
nothing I can do about it!" she yelled, her knees buckling on the last
words. She dragged him down with her and there they knelt on the floor
before the fire, the vacuum left after her words died out surrounding them.
The Doctor reached up and grasped her head between his hands.
She expelled a trembling half-sigh, half-sob and kissed him, grabbing him
to her with panicky tightness. Their kisses had a fevered intensity as
they clutched desperately at each other. Words came then, words barely
intelligible spoken as they were against mouths and faces and hair, but
everything was understood. "I'm so sorry..." he breathed, his face against
hers. "I don't know...what I was...thinking. I must have been insane."
He could scarcely bring himself to stop kissing her for long enough to form
words into sentences. "Can you ever forgive me?"
"Yes," she whispered, possessively twining her fingers in his
hair. "I have to...I can't help it, I need you, I love you." After that
all conversation became impossible.
Night fell on the Gardens. The programmed lunar cycle cast a
full moon's light over the expansive cavern floor. It bathed everything in
a magically pale glow, spilling over the trees and the gardens and the
houses and through the tall leaded glass windows into the living room where
they lay on the floor before the fire amidst a haphazard pile of pillows
and blankets and rugs pulled from the couch and chairs. Their clothing was
tossed here and there, laying wherever it had fallen. The fire had died to
a soft glowing bed of embers, crackling occasionally and sending up showers
of sparks like miniature fireworks.
She lay with her back against his chest, his arms wrapped around
her, feeling complete for the first time in months. He ran his fingers up
and down her arms, the soft scent of her hair surrounding his face . It
was possible that he'd never been so happy or relieved in his entire life,
and he thought that the only thing worrying him at the moment was the
horrible possibility that this was a dream...but it wasn't, it couldn't be.
He shifted a bit and kissed her temple. She sighed, her fingers
intertwining with his where they lay on her forearms.
"It will take time," she whispered.
"I know." Pause. "Ace, I can't explain adequately. There is no
explanation that can possibly justify it. I know you will have trouble
trusting me."
She didn't answer right away, squeezing his hand tightly. "I
don't know."
"You don't think I'd do such a thing again, do you?"
She thought for a moment. "No. I don't."
"Good."
"Doctor...Theo once told me something that I've never forgotten."
She turned to face him, pressing her forehead to his. "In all trust
there's the possibility of betrayal. Whenever you open your heart and let
someone in, you give that person the power to hurt you." She traced a
finger down the side of his face and kissed his lips softly. "But without
trust, there's nothing. No love, no closeness, no friendship. These are
the things that make us who we are, and make life worth living...yet we
leave ourselves vulnerable every single time." She sighed again. "I do
not love you now because I can forgive you, or trust you completely. I can
forgive you and trust you because I love you. I never stopped loving you."
She nestled her head down on his shoulder. "What you did will always be
with us. I can't forget it, I can't pretend it didn't happen, but we can
try and get past it and get on with our lives."
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.
"I want that more than anything. I love you so much, Ace." She squeezed
him tighter for a moment. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm glad
for it."
They lay there in silence for a moment. She shifted again to
gaze into his eyes. "You hurt me very badly," she whispered.
"I know."
"Don't do it again."
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again, drawing her
against him. She kissed him back, happy that this was all finally over.
They made love in the glow of the dying fire, renewing the bond that they'd
slowly formed over half a lifetime, a bond too enduring to be so easily
dissolved.
A week later there was a party at what was now referred to in the
neighborhood as Doc and Ace's house. After six weeks living in the
Gardens, they were finally ready to get back in the TARDIS and take up the
threads of their lives. In attendance were friends both new and old:
Garner, Byron, Romana, and some of the neighbors and other Gardens
officials with whom they'd become acquainted.
It was an informal garden party, the food a variety of fresh
fruits and cold fingerfoods, the women wearing breezy flowered dresses and
the men in light summerweight casual clothes. Ace's beautiful restored
gardens provided the perfect setting for conversation and cold lemonade
slushes.
Romana's eyes followed the Doctor and Ace around the lawn. She
was more relieved than she could say at their reconciliation, which was
evident to anyone with eyes. They were always holding hands or standing
with linked arms, talking at times in that intimate way they'd had before
the split. And yet...she couldn't help feeling a bit melancholy at the
loss of her traveling companion. In some part of her mind that she'd been
loathe to examine she'd almost hoped that they'd stay apart so that she
could keep Ace with her.
"I wish you'd stay, Doctor," Garner was saying. "I don't mind
admitting that I could use your advice as someone who's toppled a few
governments in his time."
"Oh, it seems to me like you've got things off to a promising
start," he replied. "Anyway, Ace and I could never be content staying in
one place too long."
"Indeed not," she agreed. "Galactic nomads, that's us. With a
really naff mobile home, that is."
"I'd wager that we'll be back for visits, though," the Doctor said.
"Good! I'll look forward to it!"
"After all, we'll have to come by and check up on you," Ace
teased him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "But seriously...this place
will always be very special to both of us," she said, smiling up at her
husband.
Byron sidled his way up to Romana's side, trying to act casual
even though a feeling of dread was creeping around his heart. She greeted
him warmly but no differently than she ever did.
"I guess this means you'll be leaving too," he said.
She cleared her throat, but wasn't surprised. "Yes, I will. I
should get back to Gallifrey. I am the designated leader, and I can't
leave it to Spandrell forever."
He gathered his nerve and took her hand, raising it to his lips.
"I'll miss you, Romana," he said, his heart in his eyes.
Romana smiled sadly. "Oh Byron...I'm sorry. You're such a nice
person and I have real feelings of friendship for you, but..."
He nodded, resigned, still holding her hand in both of his. "But
no more. I know, and it's okay."
"I *will* miss you," she said, trying to sound as sincere as she felt.
He dropped her hand and shoved his hands good-naturedly into his
pockets. "I sure hope you'll come back and see us sometime," he said.
"Count on it," she said with a grin. He returned the grin, and
it was all right.
The party wound down as parties are wont to do, and the chain of
departures was set off by Garner, who begged another of his endless
administrative meetings. Ace and the Doctor hugged him warmly with
promises to return for a visit soon, wished him the best of luck with the
colony and then he was gone, bidding Romana goodbye as he left. The
neighbors began filtering out, leaving many fond wishes and thanks in their
wake. Byron lingered, but soon enough he made his own goodbyes, hugging
Ace and shaking the Doctor's hand. They watched surreptitiously as he said
goodbye to Romana, but all he did was peck her cheek chastely and leave.
The three time travelers went about half-heartedly cleaning up
but their hearts weren't really in it, and in no time they were lounging in
the living room, talking.
"When are you heading out?" Romana finally asked. The Doctor and
Ace exchanged a look.
"I think we'll probably leave later this evening once we collect
our things," she said. "What about you? Will you head back to Gallifrey?"
She was looking out the window, distracted. "I think I might
stay for a few days."
"Really?" the Doctor said, surprised. "Why is that?"
"Wouldn't have something to do with a certain lieutenant, would
it?" Ace asked, her eyes twinkling.
Romana put on her haughtiest Lord President face. "I will not
even dignify that with a reply, Dorothy. It's just so peaceful here, and I
really am curious to see how the reorganization proceeds. It's a good
experiment in ground-up governmental construction. Not something one sees
every day."
The Doctor shrugged. "If you'd like to stay, then by all means
do so."
They fell silent, then Romana stood with the air of someone
wrapping up a conversation. "Well, I think I'll say goodbye to you now and
head back to the TARDIS."
They stood there in a rough triangle for a moment, exchanging
uncomfortable looks, then Ace broke the pause by rushing over and hugging
the Time Lady as hard as she could. "I can't believe we're not going to be
in the same TARDIS anymore," she exclaimed.
"I know, I've gotten so used to having you around," Romana said,
hugging her friend back. "I'll really miss you, Ace."
"Oh, I'm sure I'll see you again soon." She pulled back and
grasped Romana's shoulders, her tone sincere. "Romana...I just want you to
know that I'll never forget what you did for me. You were there for me
when I really needed someone, and I'll always be grateful."
Romana squeezed Ace's shoulder. "It was my honor, Ace. I'm glad
I could help you. I'll always be there for you." They embraced again,
then Romana turned to the Doctor.
"Well, Doctor, til next time."
"Indeed, old friend." He hesitated. "Have you forgiven me?"
"Well..." She arched an eyebrow and cast a questioning glance at
Ace, who just shrugged with a grin. "I suppose if Ace has forgiven you
then I should do likewise...though I still think you acted like a
degenerate!" she said, jabbing a finger at him, but she was smiling as she
said it.
"I can't argue with that," he said, and moved forward to hug her.
"Take care of Gallifrey. My successors must live up to my Presidential
legacy."
"That doesn't sound too hard." She moved away, but slowly, as if
she were loathe to leave. With a final pat on the Doctor's shoulder, she
went to the door. At the last minute she turned back. "Take care of each
other, all right? Although I don't really understand it, I can see that
what you have is special and unique. Don't let it go to waste." With one
last smile she was out the door and gone. Ace went to the window and
watched her walk across the lawn to her TARDIS. After a moment the Doctor
came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. She leaned back
against his chest with a sigh of contentment.
"This is such a wonderful place," she said.
"Yes, it is. We'll come back here, whenever you want to."
"I don't think we'll have a lot of time for visiting, do you?
Not when there's so much wrong with the universe!"
He kissed her cheek with a loud smack. "Now *that's* the Ace I know."
She twined her fingers in his, then picked his left hand off her
waist and held it up. "Did you ever take it off?" she asked quietly,
fingering his wedding band.
"No. Never."
"I wonder what that says about me," she mused. "I took mine off
for a time...does that mean I gave up on us?"
He hugged her tighter. "Well, you're wearing it now."
"Even when I didn't, I couldn't stand to leave it home so I wore
it on a necklace around my neck."
He smiled. "Perhaps that means that you never *really* gave up."
They stood there for a moment, looking out the window to the sunbathed
Gardens floor.
"Doctor?"
"Yes?"
"How is it that every time we're driven apart we always end up
back together and closer than we were before?"
He thought for a moment. "That's a good question. I know that
for me, being away from you only makes me more aware of how empty I am
without you." He laid his cheek against her hair. "You were the only one
who could ever make me stronger than I was alone," he whispered. "You make
me whole."
She sighed contentedly. "We have our whole lives ahead of us,
Doctor. We can move past these last few months. It won't be easy, but
it's worth the effort."
"Then...I suppose this proves it."
"Proves what?"
"That love really does conquer all."
She chuckled. "It certainly seems to in our case." She turned
in his arms and linked hers around his waist. "I love you," she whispered.
"And I you, Ace."
"Then there's hope."
"Hope for what?"
She smiled, the expression one of wisdom and optimism. "For
everything."
The newly reunited couple stood before the window in the house at
the northeast end of the cavern, which was below the surface of a desert
planet orbiting a binary star system near the edge of a quadrant of a
revolving galaxy moving slowly through the vast emptiness of the universe.
The being charged with that universe's safety cast her mind over
its infinite space, letting the waves of activity and change flow through
her. The art of finding perturbations in the natural progression of time
was an acquired skill, like seeing patterns in the chaos of static. As
always she wondered at the existence of the Eternal who embodied it and
why, if it existed, it did not make itself known to her.
She sensed the organisms, their lifeforce creating a vortex of
infinite power. The ebb and flow of their lifetimes formed the background
of all existence and its constancy never failed to calm her. Her mind
turned, as it inevitably did, to those organisms who held special attention
in her mind. Friends, family, those many that she had helped. She sensed
their moods, their thoughts, and their very lives. Her father...her
mother...her sisters...teachers...friends...aaah. Within her trance, she
smiled. A very great wrong had been set to rights at last. The jarring
edges of a frayed existence were gone, replaced by the smoothness of mended
lives. Their contentment bled into her mind, a sense of profound peace
enveloping her.
Somewhere souls were in torment, somewhere tragedy struck,
somewhere evil thrived...yet in at least one small corner of it, all was
right with the universe.
The house was emptied of personal belongings, but Ace lingered in
the garden. He joined her there, hanging back a few steps.
"Everything's in, Ace. We can leave whenever you're ready."
She cast her eyes over the fruits of her labor. The carefully
manicured flower beds, the trimmed bushes, the gloriously blooming flowers.
She had poured so much of herself into these gardens, and in no small way
it had saved her. Her eyes happened upon her gardening basket, left
underneath her favorite tree. She bent and picked it up. The trowels and
gloves were dirty and well-used, the tools tossed into the basket in no
particular order. There were times when she had to force herself to leave
this garden, but at this moment she had no urge to kneel down and start
digging. She strode to the potting shed and set the basket on the shelf.
"I'm ready," she said, smiling at her husband. They linked arms
and disappeared into their TARDIS headed into a future about which nothing
was certain...except that they would now face it together.
Forward to the Epilogue
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