Chapter Text
"A new security system? Will it still recognize me?"
No doubt an idle thought - perhaps one of many thoughts circling through the thoughtform's being, the Doctor already knew - but frankly, it was something that he was quite curious about as well.
Looking at the camera and the door, a devious seed began to bloom in his mind.
Not an irresponsible idea, mind you - weighing the cost and benefit of every decision is part of his very being, and always the first thing he would do before any action is ever taken.
But opportunities as well are fleeting - accounting for both practical constraints and simply the mood, seconds are sometimes all you have to seize upon a chance to do something of value.
"Only one way to find out..." he says, a mischievous grin forming - but thankfully obscured by his mask. The less that others knew about what was happening, the better.
"Do it. Show yourself" he says. A low volume, too low to be heard normally, but considering that his current companion is only a few steps removed from being literally made of hopes and dreams, he is sure that the message is heard.
Somewhere, in a Rhodes Island security room...
The operators - yes, operators, not "guards" as that would refer to a very specific kind of operator - sat in the security room, going about the day in relative ease and... lethargy, even.
It was simple, you see - nothing ever happens in Rhodes Island!
Theoretically, the security operators are supposed to stand watch and ensure the safety of the landship and its people, yes. But considering the recent state of Rhodes Island - are they even needed?
With Rhodes Island employing so many operators more than capable of engaging a whole battalion themselves (and sometimes even winning), these operators were quite frankly outclassed by the very people they were supposed to protect.
And that is putting aside the fact that they are on a landship - again, pretty hard to get on one in the first place, and that, by itself, already serves to keep most of the riffraff out without them even doing anything.
That is not to say that Rhodes Island is completely invincible, of course. But the fact of the matter is that whatever *can* threaten the whole landship...is probably going to be something that is so far beyond their level that they would likely only provide half a femtosecond of resistance before meeting a very inglorious end.
Anyways - all of that is to say that they are hardly ever called upon to do something serious.
"When will it end..." the man groans.
"Clock says 3 more hours on the shift. Hang in there , bud, we're almost done, just three more hours of abso..lutely...nothing..." the sarkaz drifts off , the coffee in her hand spilling to the floor as she begins to question her very sanity.
"Your coffee is spilling. What's wrong?"
The sudden, high pitch grind of the chair against the ground is absolutely peace-shattering, causing the drowsy security operator to be wide awake.
"Come over here - door BB-1, now! Quick - before we lose it- you will not believe me if you do not see this with me now-"
Was this it? A call to action? A moment to finally put to work his life which had failed to protect, back in the days of the Kazdel civil war?
Yes - this had to be it - the expression on her face, the absolute distress - there must be something dangerous out there.
Perhaps anticipating a subsequent need for rapid deployment, he even pulls out the repeating hand-crossbow from its place under his desk, already checking it and his knife as he makes his way over.
What he sees on his partner's monitors makes him stop midmotion.
"Theresa...?"
Indeed - a pink haired sarkaz dressed in immaculate white seems to be casually strolling through the corridors , wearing a familiar face , passing every facial recognition-locked door with ease - attested to by the second monitor on the security station.
Two questions quickly shoot through the security operator's head.
One: why have they not deactivated Theresa's credentials yet, she's been long dead - terrible security practice, all around.
Two: WHY IS THERESA HERE?
"Is this real? Do we even have protocols for this...?"
"Just - someone - call anyone you can!"
It is a tranquil day. A relative rarity in these trying times. Often, even if one is not receiving any mission notifications or the like, one would hear the sound of explosions, crashing metal, or grinding machinery when passing through the landship. Whether from combat exercises, renovation, or even the passive hum of the machinery as Rhodes Island lumbers across through the wastes. True quiet is rare.
Though there are no windows from which to view the outside, both parties traversing the hall have already seen it before they embarked. Both can easily visualize the arid ground, the slightly dusty air blowing through the land...
And the sun. The clear sky, permitting an unbroken sun to shine upon the land. If one had an ample supply of water and never strayed too far from a shelter - the landscape is honestly not so bad. Even borderline...homely.
"I honestly did not expect that to work. Huh. I would have thought that regular updates on security credentials would have prevented it."
"To be fair, the sensor as it has already been set up is already capable of preventing access from a simple photograph. Attempting to fake a face in the painstaking detail required to pass it...there are few agents in Terra that are capable of such.
"Right...with one of said agents being something we have very recently become closely acquainted with, as of late."
"I suppose that is true, but...considering its later actions..."
"I think it is too early to state where we stand with it, conclusively."
"Hm... I suppose that is true."
A brief moment of silence. She stands in front of another sensor. Another door's lock beeps and opens.
"Look at us, fretting over work while on this little escapade - it's almost like nothing has changed since back then." she notes with some amusement.
"...right, sorry - spoiling the mood here."
"Nothing changes..." she hums.
"Do- Doctor Kal'tsit! You're here! Sorry about the disturbance but we didn't know who else we could escalate this to. There's something in the BB sector with The Doctor - I think-"
The Rhodes Island director only scans the monitor for a few seconds before immediately rendering her verdict.
"Deactivate the security system for the BB sector and prepare the system for an emergency maintenance session. I trust you have already been briefed on the Damazti Cluster, its capabilities, and its...unusual relationship with Rhodes Island. Do not raise any alarms, we cannot jeopordize the integrity of this arrangement at this moment. I will speak with the Doctor and ensure his safety myself. After this, report to Logos for debriefing." the feline explains in her usual, ever-cool tone. Clinical and imperious all at once.
An excuse that seems to satisfy the two security operators. Indeed, the two had been vaguely aware of the Damazti from personal experience, and have been more formally briefed on it around the time of the recent Victorian crisis - its ability to shapeshift and assume the guises of others has always been its strongest power (as far as security operators should be concerned, at least).
Though a doubt lingers in the mind of the less senior of the two, she does not dare bring it up. It must have been her imagination, maybe she missed it walking into the camera.
Because if she didn't miss anything, then that would mean the Damazti goes beyond disguise and can quite literally manifest from thin air.
"You have thirty seconds to explain what made you think it would be a reasonable idea to openly flaunt one of our deepest secrets."
"It's not like there's a whole lot of people in the vicinity we had to worry about - she made sure of that and checked beforehand, and I memorized everyone's schedules, you know. With only a skeleton crew in charge of security here for tonight, and you in the vicinity, I knew that there was no chance this would get out. You should be thanking me, really - now we know that a theoretical, highly skilled mimic could easily fool the sensors."
She glances between the doctor and the last door. The screen on the keypad dimmed, the buttons smudged - but still functional, even if covered in layers of dust from disuse.
"...very well. I am expecting a detailed write-up on your findings and your proposals to remedy this by tomorrow morning. As usual, a minimum of ten pages, and typewritten, following all the same standards of content and annotation quality as we have agreed upon before."
"What!? Of all the nights that you could spring this on me, it had to - ugh, fine..." the Doctor groans. As soon as the words had left his mouth, he had already thought of some strategy by which such infiltration attempts could be foiled - yet the pedantic standards of a document for Kal'tsit was, for the time being, a foe more dangerous than any conceivable danger currently in the vicinity of Rhodes Island.
Civilight cannot help but giggle at the display, even as the feline walks straight through her with an expression cut from the coldest stone, making her un-amusement known.
"The day after tomorrow, then. Use this time wisely." she sighs after some deliberation, before disappearing around the corner.
"Amiya may be the King of Fiends, but Kal'tsit is undoubtedly the King of Rhodes Island. I suppose I should be thankful for this magnanimity." the Doctor scoffs.
"It may perhaps seem overly stern - but she truly does care on some deep level for you."
"True, true, I was merely jesting. Doesn't make it any less of a pain to deal with, though..."
The keypad beeps, and the door slides open.
"This place..." the hologram pauses at the door, realization dawning on her expression.
Positioned in a rather inconvenient location on Rhodes Island, and with not much in the way of space or good views, this place is not one that any would willingly call theirs.
In the earliest days of the Kazdelian Civil War, however, shortly after the Doctor's return - some rooms on Rhodes Island had yet to be cleared for proper use. Compelled by necessity, the Ghost of Babel made this small office space his temporary haunt, when he was not in the command center or his quarters.
A Secret Place.
Outside of emergencies - only two people would visit this room to seek him out. Amiya, and...
"I found this place when doing a bit of exploring, recently. A little far out of the way from most of the other popular places... a little on the stuffy side, but it's a nice private getaway from everything else when I need some quiet but don't want to sleep in my room. Even Ascalon doesn't stay near this place for too long, and she's supposed to be watching me all the time on the landship. I come here every few months to...meditate, contemplate, all that..." he says, turning on the lights.
The more things change...
A small office-space - it has a desk, a couch, some filing cabinets - if one took the Doctor's current office and made it a fair bit smaller and covered everything in dust - that would be this place.
Folders and boxes of tapes lie around the place, placed in an order only discernible to the one who arranged them this way.
The Doctor places his coffee mug and saucer down as he rights a fallen picture frame. Old, the leg on the back of the frame doesn't even stay in place without folding back on itself whenever he tries to make it stand - yet he never had the time to replace the frame entirely.
As the man makes himself comfortable at his desk, Civilight traces the labels on the tapes with a finger. Familiar dates and subjects attached to each one...
Something clicks on the doctor's desk behind her. And a voice - her voice but also not - begins to speak.
"Doctor, whether you realize it or not, you've been traveling with Rhodes Island for quite some time now.
Though you may say you are a passerby, I nevertheless wish to welcome you to our side.
I did not have the opportunity to witness the era you lived in. But I heard that people back then were free from the torments of Catastrophes and Oripathy, and could share their words and thoughts in a heartbeat.
Indeed, what a beautiful past that must've been. However , you bravely embark on this journey alone, even as it spans thousands of years.
I believe you still have hopes for this land, don't you?
So, Doctor, please, continue stay with Amiya and Kal'tsit.
I believe that you will once again fall in love with this world, and once again choose hope and the future.
Thank you, Doctor."
A solemn silence settles between the two.
After what feels like an eternity, the apparition is the one to break the silence.
"...Doctor, your decision to bring me to this place is...confounding, to say the least."
"No less confusing than your existence, I would say."
"I have already explained this before - I am not Theresa, merely a manifestation of-"
"I am perfectly aware." the Doctor states, standing up and pacing around the room.
"Then what is the meaning behind all this? Bringing me here, I mean." the apparition sighs - both in "life" and in her current existence, very little has managed to truly frustrate her, and today, the man before her is managing to accomplish just that.
Truthfully, if she was sufficiently determined to do so - things such as this could easily be divined through the empathic capabilities of the crown.
But she chooses not to.
"You can't tell me?"
Theoretically, she could. But...
"...she wouldn't do it like that. Some things...are better sorted in a less forceful way."
"Right. She wouldn't. And look where that brought us..." the Doctor sighs, putting aside the picture he had been gazing at.
"...Doctor, may I speak honestly? Your fixation on this past...it will only lead to a dead end. Indeed, you might have found some lessons pursuing it - but, past a certain point, it will only hinder you."
"Perhaps it would be as simple as you say, if it were not for the fact that fragments of memory still linger. Isolated thoughts, enough to carry affection, yet also enough to carry the immense weight of guilt." he sighs, his pacing slowing to a halt as something on the desk captures his interest. A photograph.
Indeed, if memory itself were completely, truly erased - the Doctor would likely have failed to function as a human being at all. Strategic thinking, personal charisma and drive, all of which he still has in spades - sometimes, it was actually more helpful to think of the Doctor's amnesia as less of deletion and more of an un-linking or encrypting of certain memories. Though their direct access is now impossible, one could still see the effects they had on his cognitive structure and even extrapolate the general nature of their contents from their effect on his present-day emotions and behaviors.
If he truly remembered nothing - Theresa would have been a meaningless name to him, or even - nothing more than an adversary, considering how they met in this life.
"Is that so...? Do you truly think that this makes you the same person as you were, then?" If you are the Doctor of Babel by virtue of such memory fragments, then... I must be Theresa as well."
The Doctor looks up from the pictures on the desk. Though his mask hides his face, the apparition needs no sight to tell that the man is raising an eyebrow, with an unspoken thought. "Elaborate".
"Your previous self met his end at the hands of the King of Fiends, before rising from Chernobog anew. You still wear the same visage, speak with the same voice, the same mannerisms and choices."
"Theresa as well - met her end at your hands in Victoria, after making the difficult choice to save her people at the cost of Terra. And now I wear her visage, voice, and personality, bearing all the scars of back then."
"The both of us - we are the same, if you think about it in that way, no?"
Though she is unable to touch the world in the strictest possible sense - by simulating tactile sensations, she is able to "hold" the Doctor's hands.
"If you truly cannot forgive yourself for the choices committed by the "you" of the past...if nothing else is able to grant you the solace you need to move forward...please, allow me to forgive you, and free you from the guilt of your history." she smiles warmly. A smile familiar to the Doctor, and thrice as familiar to herself.
The Doctor's gaze, turned downward, can scarcely see her expression, save for her mouth, her smile.
Forgiveness...
Some part of him says he is unforgivable.
Some part of him says only the real Theresa can give him forgiveness.
Some part of him says to settle for the realistic.
Some part of him says to accept what he can get.
Some part of him wants to be lost in this fantasy, for the moment at least.
Some part of him supports that notion and formulates philosophical justification to reinforce it.
After some time in silence, the Doctor turns up to look Civilight in the eye.
A brief moment when time itself seems to freeze , warp, and merge all at once.
A look - an unspoken "thank you" in his thoughts, and even...
"I love you."
A stray memory fragment, from the past-Doctor , intended for the past-Theresa, perhaps?
And yet - she doubted it herself - for the sentiment seemed to originate from her.
No - rather...it seemed to come from both of them.
In that exchange, both questioned.
Was the thoughtform truly just the manifestation of memories, data stored in the crown? If one peeled away the code , would one find perhaps some kind of soul?
Was the man truly a different, newly born life, or an older one, still clinging to existence when it ought to have ended a long time ago?
Both questions would have the same answer:
They are neither. They are both something else. The progressing culmination of two distinct states of being, coming together.
Synthesis.
A ringing noise pierces the enlightening silence, and both beings return to being lifeform and thoughtform.
The Doctor pulls his cellphone from his pocket, though Civilight seems to already have an inkling what this is about.
"Amiya is waiting with dinner." the Doctor reports.
"So it seems. Go to her. I will join you two, in time."
He nods, and leaves the room, letting the door slide close on its own.
In the darkness, she glances at the picture once more - the one which had so occupied the doctor's attention earlier.
The photograph - the familiar silhouettes of a certain man, woman, and child, on a loading platform. Above them looms an insignia of a tower with the name "Babel".
She wistfully sighs and flickers out of view.
And thus, the room was made empty.