The Time of Change

Revenge

The Doctor leads the five of us around three more bends, and at last we come to a stop outside the TARDIS. Ambrose and her family stand looking at it, totally confused as to how it's going to save us. The Doctor pulls out his key and unlocks it, saying, "No questions, just get in. And yes, I know, it's big!" He sounds exasperated, watching the family file in. "Ambrose, sickbay up the stairs, left, then left again. Get yourself fixed up. Come on, five minutes and counting. Oh, not here."

The last part comes out almost as a low growl. His eyes widen, facing the wall behind me, and I turn around. There, in the center of the wall, is a huge glowing crack. White-gold light streams out from inside it, making it more impressively scary. It looks like a villainous smile.

"Not now," he says. "It's getting wider." He walks over to it, and I add, "The crack from Christmas."

"And the one from Daniel's home," he says in response to my observation. I move closer to him and attempt not to let the boy's name fill me with guilt and regret. "Two parts of space and time that never should have touched, right here. All through the universe, rips in the continuum."

How can it be following us? I wonder.

The Doctor touches the wall near the edge of the crack, just as he did in Daniel's house. "Some sort of space-time cataclysm," he whispers to himself. "An explosion, maybe. Big enough to put cracks in the universe. But what?"

I glance down at my cellphone nervously. "Four minutes fifty," I tell him. "We have to go."

He doesn't move. Instead he glares at the crack as if it's personally offended him. "The Angels laughed when I didn't know," he breathes. "Prisoner Zero knew. Everybody knows except me."

"Doctor, please just leave it."

Ignoring me entirely, he continues, "But where there's an explosion, there's shrapnel." He fishes around in his jacket pocket and removes a vibrant red handkerchief. Carefully he positions it so that it completely covers the skin on his right hand. Then he inches his arm closer to the hole.

"You can't put your hand in there!" I hear Hunter exclaim next to me. I jump at the unexpected appearance of his voice.

With the unconcerned air of a toddler, the Doctor looks back at him over his shoulder as he thrusts his hand into the crack in the wall. "Why not?" He wiggles his arm around, though I don't know what he'd be feeling for. My stomach writhes in suspense, but still I get the unsettling feeling that there's something foreign inside me. Before my brain can take me through a list of possible parasites, the Doctor releases a sound of victory and pulls his hand back out. He's clutching a thin, badly burnt metallic rectangle.

"What is it?" I ask.

His eyebrows scrunch together, and he replies, "I... I don't know." He crouches by the glowing crack to examine the artifact for a moment when Hunter gasps, "Doctor?" My husband jumps to his feet at his alarmed tone, and I turn to see Hunter staring at the bend of the corner nearest to us. A figure is slowly crawling around it, only its arms capable of mobility.

Restac.

"She was there when the gas started," I inform the men. "She must have been poisoned."

"You," Restac spits at me, the venom in her voice almost scorching.

I stumble back, and the Doctor takes my hand. "Okay, get in the TARDIS, both of you," he orders Hunter and me.

"No," I tell him under my breath, using my hand to guide him away from me and farther from the commander.

He looks at me with wide eyes. "Now really isn't the time to be brave, love."

"You did this!" snarls Restac, still glaring up at me. My heart drops into what feels like ice cold churning water as she raises a weapon from underneath her and aims it at me.

"Doctor," Hunter warns. Restac's arm shudders under the weight of the gun, and for a second I feel like she's not going to be able to shoot. The Doctor watches her closely, imperceptibly trying to push me toward the TARDIS.

I glance sideways to my right at Hunter just as he shouts something I can't hear over the sound of an explosion very close by. In slow motion, he grabs my arm tight and shoves me full-force into the Doctor. We collapse into the doors of the TARDIS while Hunter stands perfectly still as the bright, electric blue beam streaks through the dim tunnel air and hits him square in the chest.

I feel a scream rip through my throat, but the sound falls on my own deaf ears. The roar of blood fills the silence, and in a haze I wonder where it's coming from. The Doctor grabs both my arms when I dart forward, wrestling to hold me back until he can be sure Restac isn't a threat to me. A moment later, the Silurian's arm falls to the dusty clay floor after she fires, and she moves no longer, an expression of savage triumph frozen on her reptilian face.

I tear myself from the Doctor's grip and drop to my knees beside Hunter, softly echoing his name. My husband kneels on his other side. "Hunter, can you hear me?" he asks loudly.

Terror shines in his wide eyes. "I don't understand," he splutters, touching his chest where the gun struck him. There is no outwardly visible wound, but the way he moves his fingers suggests that they've gone numb.

"Shh," I insist, and I press my index finger to his lips. "Don't talk." I look up at my husband. "Doctor, he's okay, isn't he? If we can just get him inside the TARDIS, he'll be fine, right?"

"I can't die here," Hunter chokes out, cutting across the Doctor's pain-filled stare. His voice breaks with each word, each syllable. "I wasn't supposed to die yet."

My heart gives a feeble lurch as it caves in on itself. I shake my head violently, my entire body trembling. "No, don't you dare say that," I tell him. "You're not dying yet, alright? Do you understand me? You are not dying. I won't let you."

That earns me the smallest of laughs. "You won't let me," he repeats, chortling weakly. "That's very 'Annie' of you." All at once, I forget every reason I've ever had for being angry with him. His eyes gloss over as he's gazing up at me, the light from the crack behind me illuminating his face so I can see him. Never have I seen a color quite like that of his eyes, the hazel with streaks of every hue known to man. They still mesmerize me, even now—after all this time, all he's done, all I've done, and all we've been through, together or apart.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, very deliberately reaching his limp hand up to cup my cheek. I try to focus on how real his touch feels in order to keep myself from falling apart because I have to be strong for him right now. "I am so sorry for everything, especially that I hurt you." Now his gaze shifts to the Doctor, who straightens up. "Protect her," he croaks, "because she's not that great at looking after herself."

As soon as he says this, I feel him fading, and I hold his hand in place tightly. "No, not yet," I whisper furiously. "No, you moron, not yet! You don't get out of this that easy." My voice cracks, rising a few octaves, and his eyelids flutter when a tear leaks from the side of his eye. I squeeze his fingers. "You don't get to leave me again."

His thumb brushes over my lips tenderly, and though I don't love him romantically anymore, I still feel a powerful rush of affection for the boy who saw the invisible girl before anybody else ever did.

"I love you" are the last words to leave his lungs.