Chapter Text
The Doctor darted ahead, scarf streaming like a comet, dragging Jess and Emily toward a ride she clearly favored.
“Over here! The Heliograv Wheel—it’s absolutely essential you try it,” she said, pointing at the transparent bubbles floating gently above the ground. “You’ll spin, float, and feel your personal gravity adjust! Very safe. Mostly.”
Jess and Emily exchanged wary looks but allowed themselves to be guided. The Doctor hopped into one of the bubbles first, beaming. “Hold on!” she called.
The bubbles began to rise smoothly. But as Jess and Emily climbed in, a small creature—a winged, furry thing that looked like a cross between a fox and a firefly—darted between their bubbles.
“Uh… Doctor?” Emily squeaked.
The Doctor’s grin faltered. “Oh… that’s a Zylarian Pixlet. Harmless but mischievous. Don’t… don’t touch the controls!”
Before she could finish, the pixlet tripped one of the anti-gravity stabilizers. The bubbles spun wildly, tilting and swirling through the air. Jess yelped as her bubble zipped past a cluster of floating lanterns. Emily grabbed the edges of hers, eyes wide.
The Doctor laughed—partly because it was impossible not to laugh, partly because panic management was always a teaching moment. “It’s okay! This is exactly why they call it the Heliograv Wheel! Observe—your bodies are learning to adjust to multi-vector gravity! History, physics, and reflexes all in one!”
After a few wild loops, the bubbles finally stabilized, and all three of them landed safely on the ground. Jess’s hair was sticking out at impossible angles, Emily’s scarf was floating awkwardly in midair, and the Doctor’s coat was slightly singed from a stray lantern brush.
Jess groaned. “Doctor… your idea of ‘fun’ is terrifying.”
Emily laughed. “But kind of amazing.”
The Doctor dusted herself off, finally turning serious. “Alright… fine. Time for a confession. That—” she gestured at the ride, “was the light version of what’s coming.”
Jess and Emily exchanged confused glances.
“There’s… someone else,” the Doctor continued quietly. “Another Doctor. He’s a splinter. A version that was supposed to exist instead of me. He’s… hunting me. Wants what’s… technically his. My life, my timeline, everything I’ve done.”
Jess frowned. “So he’s like… another you?”
“Yes,” the Doctor said. “Exactly. Only angrier, more determined, and not particularly interested in compromise.” She took a deep breath. “He’ll try to take what’s his. But I—” She let the words hang for a moment. “I won’t go quietly. I’ll run. I’ll outlast him. But… I can’t do it alone.”
Jess stepped forward, voice firm. “Doctor, you won’t have to. We’re with you. Whatever this other version of you is planning, we’ll face him—together.”
Emily nodded. “Yeah. You’ve got us. You don’t need to run alone anymore.”
The Doctor’s face softened, a rare look of relief crossing her features. “You—both of you… I don’t know if I can explain what that means. You have no idea.”
Jess smirked. “Try me.”
“Thank you,” the Doctor said simply. “Alright… now, before the universe notices I paused for a sentimental moment, there’s glowfruit parfaits over there. And I’m not sharing mine.”
Emily laughed, and Jess shook her head. “Of course not. You’re the Doctor.”
The three of them ran off toward the next stall, laughter and alien music blending, a perfect bubble of normalcy in a universe that was anything but.
And somewhere beyond the edges of causality, the other Doctor’s TARDIS hummed, engines furious, still chasing a shadow he believed was his right.
The festival stretched on, endless in its strange and beautiful chaos. Lanterns shimmered like captured stars, the air smelled of alien spices and singed sugar, and music rippled through the crowd like waves of light.
The Doctor led Jess and Emily through a labyrinth of stalls and rides, practically bouncing with excitement.
“Now, over here,” she said, pointing to a floating pavilion shaped like a translucent spiral. “These are Kyrillian Story Orbs. Each one contains a civilization’s entire history, compressed into a holographic projection. Watch.”
She pressed a small button on one orb. A sphere of light expanded, revealing a planet-sized city populated by delicate, insect-like beings. The buildings were alive, slowly growing and reshaping themselves as the society lived its day in fast-forward.
Emily gasped. “They live… that fast?”
“Yes!” the Doctor said, pointing to the figures as they raced through their holographic streets. “They experience centuries in mere minutes. And notice—see that structure there? That’s their temple of memory. They literally feed their knowledge to the building. Architecture as memory storage. Fascinating, isn’t it?”
Jess leaned closer. “So… every building is alive?”
“Exactly!” the Doctor said, spinning in a small circle. “Everything here has a function beyond what you’d imagine. Food, art, recreation, learning—it all blends seamlessly. Civilization as performance art. Brilliant! And some of the creatures here can actually taste history! Imagine eating a century of culture for dessert!”
Emily blinked. “You’ve tried that, haven’t you?”
The Doctor’s eyes twinkled. “Possibly. It’s surprisingly… educational.” She grabbed a glowing fruit from a nearby vendor, gesturing to the next stall. “And that—oh yes—that’s Plasma Gelato. Tastes like nothing you’ve ever had. Slightly spicy, slightly sweet, mildly telepathic. Only mildly, I assure you. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”
Jess laughed as she took a cautious lick. Her eyebrows shot up. “Whoa… that’s… actually really good!”
The Doctor clapped her hands, pleased. “Excellent! Now let’s try the Chroma Flyers next. And remember—physics is flexible. Slightly. Slightly.”
The three of them ran from ride to ride, tasting strange foods, examining exotic artifacts, and laughing at the absurdity and brilliance of it all. For a while, the festival was their universe, and nothing else mattered.
Meanwhile… somewhere far beyond the celebration, shadows gathered.
The other Doctor had caught up. His TARDIS landed silently in a dimension outside normal time, a barren, luminous void. There, the White Guardian waited, calm and radiant, arms crossed, light bending around him like a living halo.
“You’ve come far,” the Guardian said. “But you meddle with forces beyond even your comprehension.”
The other Doctor’s eyes burned with intent. “I am not here to talk. I am here to correct what should have been mine. The splinter, the stolen timeline—everything I am owed!”
Without hesitation, he raised a hand—and the Guardian’s light flared, rippling through the void, trying to repel him.
“You will not—” the Guardian began.
“—stand in my way,” the other Doctor finished coldly.
The force of his attack shattered the balance between light and dark. For a moment, the universe seemed to shiver. Time itself wavered.
And then the impossible happened: the White Guardian fell, a flash of radiant light collapsing in on itself, leaving the void unnaturally still.
The other Doctor stood over the place where the Guardian had been, breathing steadily, triumphant—but the silence around him whispered of consequences he had not yet understood.
Somewhere, across the galaxy, the Doctor, Jess, and Emily laughed as a floating ride hurled them gently through the air. The festival carried on, oblivious… but the universe itself had just shifted.
And that’s where the chapter ends.