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locker_monsterTitle: Household Gods (5/5)
Rating: PG
Characters: Twelve, Clara
Timeline: pre-"The Caretaker"; no spoilers.
Summary: An unexpected discovery at the British Museum leads the Doctor and Clara to Ancient Rome, but things quickly get out of hand when the Doctor is mistaken for another man...
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC.
A/N: Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rumpelsnorcack for the awesome beta.
Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four.
There was so much tension running through the Doctor's body that Clara feared he might burst from all of the pent up rage. She didn't know what to say that wouldn't make it worse.
The people in the cloaks had their faces pressed to the floor and a few actually trembled. A small whimper made the Doctor turn around. Clara tensed, waiting for the shouting to begin.
"Go." To her surprise, he spoke evenly, but there was still a lot of emotion in his voice. He was angry, but weary, and the tiredness seemed to win out. "Leave here and tell the people that the Time Lords aren't gods."
For a second, no one moved. Clara couldn't even tell if anyone had been listening to the Doctor. She made the first move herself, walking over to the closest worshipper and slowly helping them to their feet. The hand beneath hers was small and bony and she pictured an old woman beneath the cloak.
"Go on," she urged gently. "Find a new path for yourself."
The hand squeezed around hers briefly and then it was gone. As the first worshipper left the room, a few others started to get to their feet. None dared to look in the Doctor's direction, but he didn't shy away from watching them leave. He still looked conflicted but at least the tension in his shoulders had eased.
One by one, the worshippers filed out of the room. As the last few were leaving, the Doctor shifted his attention to Caecilius.
It was so startling to see another man who looked exactly like the Doctor. Clara still hadn't got over it since she entered the shrine room. She had finally adjusted to the Doctor's new face and here it was again on someone different.
Caecilius had fallen to the floor after the Doctor smashed the sphere and he looked dazed, as though he had been hit over the head. He didn't seem aware that the Doctor and Clara were there and he looked off into the distance at some unseen point.
"Do you think he's going to be okay?" she asked. She squat down next to Caecilius and took his hand in hers. His skin was cool to the touch despite how warm it was in the room.
"He had a mental link with the Time Lords, but it's severed, now that the Crack is closed. He should be back to normal in a few days."
Clara hoped so. Caecilius had been a pawn in all of this. It wouldn't be fair if he lost his mind. "And what about you?" She rose to her feet and looked the Doctor in the eye, trying to judge the state of his inner turmoil. "You had a chance to get your home back."
The Doctor looked away and he drifted over to one of the marble statues. It was of the previous Doctor, the one Clara had first met on the Maitlands' doorstep. "I couldn't."
"Why not?"
The Doctor closed his eyes and let out a long breath. "They ruined a man's life, Clara, just so I would be here. Could you be complicit with that?"
"We came here because of the marble carving. The Time Lords didn't put it in the museum."
He opened his eyes and looked over at her. He looked so old just then. "I thought I chose this face, because I was trying to tell myself something, but it was the Time Lords who gave me this face. It was a message from them, telling me to come here."
"Everything they have done was for you, Doctor." Clara thought back to what Caecilius had said and she suppressed a shudder. The Time Lords had stolen another man's face as part of a bigger plan.
The Doctor suddenly lunged out, shoving over the marble statue of his current body. It was a rare show of strength and Clara hadn't been expecting it. She barely got out of the way before the statue toppled over and smashed into a few broken pieces. The loud crash disturbed Caecilius and his gaze darted around the room.
As quickly as the bout of anger had appeared, it just as quickly disappeared again, and the Doctor's features settled into a blank mask.
Clara had seen the Doctor angry before, but never this lost. She grabbed him by the arm, not caring that it was an invasion of his personal space, and led him out of earshot of Caecilius. "Hey, you didn't know. The Time Lords used you just like they used Caecilius. But that doesn't make you an impostor or a fraud. You're still the Doctor no matter what you look like." She smiled at him. "If the Time Lords really wanted to control you, they've would have given you a more agreeable personality."
Her reassurance seemed to throw him momentarily, like he couldn't understand why she was being kind. "Were you always this philosophical?"
She nearly shook her head at him, but she knew his criticism was just a way of dealing with uncomfortable social moments. "Only when I get knocked on the head."
"How is your head?" The Doctor peered at her forehead.
In all of the confusion, Clara had forgotten about her headache, but now that things were calm again, the throbbing came roaring back. She poked tentatively at the lump on her forehead and she hissed at the spike of pain that ran down the length of her body right to her toes. How was she going to explain the bruise when she got back to the museum? "I'll be fine. We should worry about Caecilius."
At least Caecilius was looking better. Sitting on the floor was no place to recover, though, so they moved him to another room that was less stifling. He sat down on a padded bench while the Doctor, having found a jug of wine, went off to mix it with water to dilute it as per Roman custom.
In the corner, Clara noticed a small shrine and she stepped over to look at it. The centrepiece was a slab of carved marble featuring a man and a woman with a temple between them. It was the artefact from the museum, only it was brand new and she could now make out all of the features. The figure on the left was clearly the Doctor with the spiky brown hair that she had met last year. The figure on the right was of a woman in a long dress; a friend of the Doctor's no doubt.
She didn't see gods when looking at the carving. She saw heroes.
Not wanting to leave Caecilius on his own, she quickly returned to the main area of the room and took a seat on the bench perpendicular to Caecilius'. The fact that she chose a separate seat was not lost on the man. "You're wary of me."
"A little," she admitted. "You look so much like the Doctor."
"Yes, it was quite a shock to me, too." Caecilius managed a small smile and it was full of warmth, so different from the Doctor's cool and fleeting smiles. Clara wasn't used to seeing such sunny expressions from the Doctor's features.
"Here, drink this." The Doctor returned with a cup of wine and unceremoniously handed it to Caecilius.
The man took a big gulp. "Thank you. I needed that." His complexion, somewhat pale before, was regaining its colour.
"How much do you remember?" asked Clara.
"I don't know. I remember some things, but I feel like I'm quickly forgetting others."
"Any Time Lord knowledge is being erased. Without the Time Lords around to maintain it, your brain simply can't hold on to it. This is a good thing, trust me. The human mind can't cope with such a high level of intellect." The Doctor hadn't sat down and he, too, seemed reluctant to be near Caecilius, as though he thought that the universe might implode if the two of them touched.
"So all humans are stupid?" asked Clara, giving him her best unimpressed teacher face.
"Not all." The briefest of smiles lit up his eyes.
"But you must think me a fool," said Caecilius. "To believe everything the gods... the Time Lords told me." He stared forlornly into his cup of wine, contemplating his watery image there.
"You are a fool," admitted the Doctor, "but so would anyone be in your position. The Time Lords had the advantage."
Caecilius gave a half-hearted nod.
"Is your family still around?" asked Clara, hoping she was moving on to a happier topic.
Caecilius thought hard for a moment as he sifted through his jumbled memories. "I think Metella took Quintus and Evelina to Naples. She has family out there."
"Then you should go to Naples. Get away from Rome for a while."
"Yes, that does sound like a good idea. It would be nice to get out of the city." With one last gulp, Caecilius tossed back the rest of the wine. He placed down the empty cup and rose to his feet to stand eye to eye with the Doctor. He held out his hand to the Time Lord. "It was good to see you again, Doctor. I cannot thank you enough for what you did for me and my family back in Pompeii."
The Doctor looked down at the man's hand, so similar to his own. Clara briefly wondered if the Time Lords had copied all of Caecilius when they granted the Doctor his new regeneration cycle. After a second's hesitation, the Doctor shook Caecilius' hand.
"Good-bye, Caecilius. Good luck with your family and stay away from city augurs."
"Oh yes. I've had my fill of augurs and soothsayers for a lifetime."
Thankfully, it wasn't far to the TARDIS. Caecilius' villa was situated near Palatine Hill and it was about a ten minute walk back to where the time machine was parked. Clara stole sideways glances at the Doctor the entire way. He seemed more collected now, but she had no doubt that his frustrations with his people still seethed under the surface.
When they made it back to the TARDIS, the Doctor offered to heal her forehead and neck with an ointment from the TARDIS medical kit. "We can't have you going back to the museum looking like that," he said.
Clara had to agree. No lie in the world could explain away her sudden injuries. She took a seat while the Doctor rummaged through one of the shelves on the upper level. "Do you think the Time Lords will try again?" she wondered while she waited.
There was only silence from the upper level. She glanced back and saw that the Doctor was staring absently at one of his chalkboards. She had spoken softly, but there was no doubt that he hadn't heard her. Deep down, they both knew that the answer was yes. If the Time Lords were willing to endanger one small town on Trenzalore and usurp an innocent man's religion in Rome, then it was obvious they would try again and again until Gallifrey was restored.
It was the Doctor's home, and he deserved to see it again, but it wasn't fair to him if the Time Lords continued to find ways to twist him into helping.
He finally returned with a battered white case that bore a green crescent moon on it rather than a red cross. The Doctor took out a small container and unscrewed the lid on the ointment, revealing a pale pink cream that smelled vaguely of roses. Clara started to reach for the container, but he surprised her by applying the ointment to her forehead himself. Just a small dab immediately soothed the dull throb of the bump on her head.
"Gallifrey is still out there." The Doctor didn't meet her gaze, putting his concentration on smoothing out the dab of ointment with his thumb. "They will find a way to reach me."
"You don't need them, okay? You will find Gallifrey, one day, on your own terms. Not anyone else's."
"Yes." He finally glanced down at her and handed her the container of ointment. "One day."
Something in his expression told her that day would be a long way off.
The Fast Return Switch brought them straight back to the British Museum only a few seconds after they had left. Clara, smelling slightly of roses but with nothing else about her person noticeably out of place, stepped out of the TARDIS. "I'm going to need a shot of caffeine to keep going for the rest of the afternoon," she mused.
"At least you're not hungry," the Doctor offered from the doorway of the TARDIS.
She graced him with a brief smile. "See you on Wednesday." There was no question about it. Neither of them would miss the opportunity to take a trip somewhere.
"Wednesday." Clara walked off, headed back to the Great Court. "Don't forget to fix the clock on your mobile," he reminded her. It was, after every one of their adventures, out of sync with the rest of the clocks in London. She pulled the phone out of her pocket and waved it in the air to show that she wouldn't forget.
The Doctor waited until Clara was out of view before stepping out of the TARDIS and walking over to the marble carving that had prompted their trip to Ancient Rome. Nothing about it had changed. The right side was still missing, leaving only half of the carving of Donna; she wouldn't have appreciated that. The left side still sported a vague carving of a man. The TARDIS, proportionally the wrong size compared to the two figures, was still an odd but striking centrepiece.
He had left behind stranger artefacts in his time. He saw no harm in leaving this one be.
He walked around the display, intent on heading back down the row to return to the TARDIS. Something on the back of the marble slab caught his eye, though, before he could take more than a few steps. He looked around but only a few people were in the room and their attention was on reading the cards that went with each display. Pulling out the sonic screwdriver, the Doctor discreetly shut down the security system within a three metre radius.
Carefully, he angled the slab forward until he could see what was on the back. It was Classical Latin, the words handily translated by the TARDIS.
We have survived Pompeii. Our thanks is owed to these gods.
A civilization gone and buried. Forever lost. Until it wasn't.
Pompeii had endured. It still endured, even if it was a shell of its former self. The Doctor could only hope he did Gallifrey the same justice one day.
Rating: PG
Characters: Twelve, Clara
Timeline: pre-"The Caretaker"; no spoilers.
Summary: An unexpected discovery at the British Museum leads the Doctor and Clara to Ancient Rome, but things quickly get out of hand when the Doctor is mistaken for another man...
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC.
A/N: Many thanks to
rumpelsnorcack for the awesome beta.Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four.
There was so much tension running through the Doctor's body that Clara feared he might burst from all of the pent up rage. She didn't know what to say that wouldn't make it worse.
The people in the cloaks had their faces pressed to the floor and a few actually trembled. A small whimper made the Doctor turn around. Clara tensed, waiting for the shouting to begin.
"Go." To her surprise, he spoke evenly, but there was still a lot of emotion in his voice. He was angry, but weary, and the tiredness seemed to win out. "Leave here and tell the people that the Time Lords aren't gods."
For a second, no one moved. Clara couldn't even tell if anyone had been listening to the Doctor. She made the first move herself, walking over to the closest worshipper and slowly helping them to their feet. The hand beneath hers was small and bony and she pictured an old woman beneath the cloak.
"Go on," she urged gently. "Find a new path for yourself."
The hand squeezed around hers briefly and then it was gone. As the first worshipper left the room, a few others started to get to their feet. None dared to look in the Doctor's direction, but he didn't shy away from watching them leave. He still looked conflicted but at least the tension in his shoulders had eased.
One by one, the worshippers filed out of the room. As the last few were leaving, the Doctor shifted his attention to Caecilius.
It was so startling to see another man who looked exactly like the Doctor. Clara still hadn't got over it since she entered the shrine room. She had finally adjusted to the Doctor's new face and here it was again on someone different.
Caecilius had fallen to the floor after the Doctor smashed the sphere and he looked dazed, as though he had been hit over the head. He didn't seem aware that the Doctor and Clara were there and he looked off into the distance at some unseen point.
"Do you think he's going to be okay?" she asked. She squat down next to Caecilius and took his hand in hers. His skin was cool to the touch despite how warm it was in the room.
"He had a mental link with the Time Lords, but it's severed, now that the Crack is closed. He should be back to normal in a few days."
Clara hoped so. Caecilius had been a pawn in all of this. It wouldn't be fair if he lost his mind. "And what about you?" She rose to her feet and looked the Doctor in the eye, trying to judge the state of his inner turmoil. "You had a chance to get your home back."
The Doctor looked away and he drifted over to one of the marble statues. It was of the previous Doctor, the one Clara had first met on the Maitlands' doorstep. "I couldn't."
"Why not?"
The Doctor closed his eyes and let out a long breath. "They ruined a man's life, Clara, just so I would be here. Could you be complicit with that?"
"We came here because of the marble carving. The Time Lords didn't put it in the museum."
He opened his eyes and looked over at her. He looked so old just then. "I thought I chose this face, because I was trying to tell myself something, but it was the Time Lords who gave me this face. It was a message from them, telling me to come here."
"Everything they have done was for you, Doctor." Clara thought back to what Caecilius had said and she suppressed a shudder. The Time Lords had stolen another man's face as part of a bigger plan.
The Doctor suddenly lunged out, shoving over the marble statue of his current body. It was a rare show of strength and Clara hadn't been expecting it. She barely got out of the way before the statue toppled over and smashed into a few broken pieces. The loud crash disturbed Caecilius and his gaze darted around the room.
As quickly as the bout of anger had appeared, it just as quickly disappeared again, and the Doctor's features settled into a blank mask.
Clara had seen the Doctor angry before, but never this lost. She grabbed him by the arm, not caring that it was an invasion of his personal space, and led him out of earshot of Caecilius. "Hey, you didn't know. The Time Lords used you just like they used Caecilius. But that doesn't make you an impostor or a fraud. You're still the Doctor no matter what you look like." She smiled at him. "If the Time Lords really wanted to control you, they've would have given you a more agreeable personality."
Her reassurance seemed to throw him momentarily, like he couldn't understand why she was being kind. "Were you always this philosophical?"
She nearly shook her head at him, but she knew his criticism was just a way of dealing with uncomfortable social moments. "Only when I get knocked on the head."
"How is your head?" The Doctor peered at her forehead.
In all of the confusion, Clara had forgotten about her headache, but now that things were calm again, the throbbing came roaring back. She poked tentatively at the lump on her forehead and she hissed at the spike of pain that ran down the length of her body right to her toes. How was she going to explain the bruise when she got back to the museum? "I'll be fine. We should worry about Caecilius."
At least Caecilius was looking better. Sitting on the floor was no place to recover, though, so they moved him to another room that was less stifling. He sat down on a padded bench while the Doctor, having found a jug of wine, went off to mix it with water to dilute it as per Roman custom.
In the corner, Clara noticed a small shrine and she stepped over to look at it. The centrepiece was a slab of carved marble featuring a man and a woman with a temple between them. It was the artefact from the museum, only it was brand new and she could now make out all of the features. The figure on the left was clearly the Doctor with the spiky brown hair that she had met last year. The figure on the right was of a woman in a long dress; a friend of the Doctor's no doubt.
She didn't see gods when looking at the carving. She saw heroes.
Not wanting to leave Caecilius on his own, she quickly returned to the main area of the room and took a seat on the bench perpendicular to Caecilius'. The fact that she chose a separate seat was not lost on the man. "You're wary of me."
"A little," she admitted. "You look so much like the Doctor."
"Yes, it was quite a shock to me, too." Caecilius managed a small smile and it was full of warmth, so different from the Doctor's cool and fleeting smiles. Clara wasn't used to seeing such sunny expressions from the Doctor's features.
"Here, drink this." The Doctor returned with a cup of wine and unceremoniously handed it to Caecilius.
The man took a big gulp. "Thank you. I needed that." His complexion, somewhat pale before, was regaining its colour.
"How much do you remember?" asked Clara.
"I don't know. I remember some things, but I feel like I'm quickly forgetting others."
"Any Time Lord knowledge is being erased. Without the Time Lords around to maintain it, your brain simply can't hold on to it. This is a good thing, trust me. The human mind can't cope with such a high level of intellect." The Doctor hadn't sat down and he, too, seemed reluctant to be near Caecilius, as though he thought that the universe might implode if the two of them touched.
"So all humans are stupid?" asked Clara, giving him her best unimpressed teacher face.
"Not all." The briefest of smiles lit up his eyes.
"But you must think me a fool," said Caecilius. "To believe everything the gods... the Time Lords told me." He stared forlornly into his cup of wine, contemplating his watery image there.
"You are a fool," admitted the Doctor, "but so would anyone be in your position. The Time Lords had the advantage."
Caecilius gave a half-hearted nod.
"Is your family still around?" asked Clara, hoping she was moving on to a happier topic.
Caecilius thought hard for a moment as he sifted through his jumbled memories. "I think Metella took Quintus and Evelina to Naples. She has family out there."
"Then you should go to Naples. Get away from Rome for a while."
"Yes, that does sound like a good idea. It would be nice to get out of the city." With one last gulp, Caecilius tossed back the rest of the wine. He placed down the empty cup and rose to his feet to stand eye to eye with the Doctor. He held out his hand to the Time Lord. "It was good to see you again, Doctor. I cannot thank you enough for what you did for me and my family back in Pompeii."
The Doctor looked down at the man's hand, so similar to his own. Clara briefly wondered if the Time Lords had copied all of Caecilius when they granted the Doctor his new regeneration cycle. After a second's hesitation, the Doctor shook Caecilius' hand.
"Good-bye, Caecilius. Good luck with your family and stay away from city augurs."
"Oh yes. I've had my fill of augurs and soothsayers for a lifetime."
Thankfully, it wasn't far to the TARDIS. Caecilius' villa was situated near Palatine Hill and it was about a ten minute walk back to where the time machine was parked. Clara stole sideways glances at the Doctor the entire way. He seemed more collected now, but she had no doubt that his frustrations with his people still seethed under the surface.
When they made it back to the TARDIS, the Doctor offered to heal her forehead and neck with an ointment from the TARDIS medical kit. "We can't have you going back to the museum looking like that," he said.
Clara had to agree. No lie in the world could explain away her sudden injuries. She took a seat while the Doctor rummaged through one of the shelves on the upper level. "Do you think the Time Lords will try again?" she wondered while she waited.
There was only silence from the upper level. She glanced back and saw that the Doctor was staring absently at one of his chalkboards. She had spoken softly, but there was no doubt that he hadn't heard her. Deep down, they both knew that the answer was yes. If the Time Lords were willing to endanger one small town on Trenzalore and usurp an innocent man's religion in Rome, then it was obvious they would try again and again until Gallifrey was restored.
It was the Doctor's home, and he deserved to see it again, but it wasn't fair to him if the Time Lords continued to find ways to twist him into helping.
He finally returned with a battered white case that bore a green crescent moon on it rather than a red cross. The Doctor took out a small container and unscrewed the lid on the ointment, revealing a pale pink cream that smelled vaguely of roses. Clara started to reach for the container, but he surprised her by applying the ointment to her forehead himself. Just a small dab immediately soothed the dull throb of the bump on her head.
"Gallifrey is still out there." The Doctor didn't meet her gaze, putting his concentration on smoothing out the dab of ointment with his thumb. "They will find a way to reach me."
"You don't need them, okay? You will find Gallifrey, one day, on your own terms. Not anyone else's."
"Yes." He finally glanced down at her and handed her the container of ointment. "One day."
Something in his expression told her that day would be a long way off.
The Fast Return Switch brought them straight back to the British Museum only a few seconds after they had left. Clara, smelling slightly of roses but with nothing else about her person noticeably out of place, stepped out of the TARDIS. "I'm going to need a shot of caffeine to keep going for the rest of the afternoon," she mused.
"At least you're not hungry," the Doctor offered from the doorway of the TARDIS.
She graced him with a brief smile. "See you on Wednesday." There was no question about it. Neither of them would miss the opportunity to take a trip somewhere.
"Wednesday." Clara walked off, headed back to the Great Court. "Don't forget to fix the clock on your mobile," he reminded her. It was, after every one of their adventures, out of sync with the rest of the clocks in London. She pulled the phone out of her pocket and waved it in the air to show that she wouldn't forget.
The Doctor waited until Clara was out of view before stepping out of the TARDIS and walking over to the marble carving that had prompted their trip to Ancient Rome. Nothing about it had changed. The right side was still missing, leaving only half of the carving of Donna; she wouldn't have appreciated that. The left side still sported a vague carving of a man. The TARDIS, proportionally the wrong size compared to the two figures, was still an odd but striking centrepiece.
He had left behind stranger artefacts in his time. He saw no harm in leaving this one be.
He walked around the display, intent on heading back down the row to return to the TARDIS. Something on the back of the marble slab caught his eye, though, before he could take more than a few steps. He looked around but only a few people were in the room and their attention was on reading the cards that went with each display. Pulling out the sonic screwdriver, the Doctor discreetly shut down the security system within a three metre radius.
Carefully, he angled the slab forward until he could see what was on the back. It was Classical Latin, the words handily translated by the TARDIS.
We have survived Pompeii. Our thanks is owed to these gods.
A civilization gone and buried. Forever lost. Until it wasn't.
Pompeii had endured. It still endured, even if it was a shell of its former self. The Doctor could only hope he did Gallifrey the same justice one day.
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Date: 2015-10-27 04:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-10-27 11:57 pm (UTC)I had really hoped the show would have a big adventure to explain why Twelve and Caecilius look alike, but we just got some dialogue in the end. Oh well.