Yes, I know, it’s almost the end of Saturday, so I’m almost two days late with this. Sorry! I’m still adjusting to the summer vacation schedule, with the kids in summer camp and whatnot. But with no further ado, the conclusion to The Resurrection of Evil!
The Resurrection of Evil
EPISODE EIGHT: The End
Keeps flowing like a river (on and on)
To the sea, to the sea
Till it’s gone forever
— “Time,” the Alan Parsons Project
Terri bent low over the Doctor. Around her, the young people of the Twin Cities milled aimlessly around the Turn Of a Friendly Card nightclub. They didn’t seem to know what to do with themselves, now that the White Lightning was gone.
Sweat rolled off the Doctor’s curly hair, evaporating in the suddenly cool air. Terri rolled him onto his back and put her hand over his mouth.
“Oh God,” she said. “He’s not breathing.”
She looked up at the stage. The body of her friend Methos lay in a silent heap in front of a ring of dazed musicians. The body inhabited by the Master.
Terri’s hands curled into fists. “You bastard,” she said. “You bastard!”
She rose to her feet and covered the distance to the stage in less than a second. Not bothering to take the stairs, she grabbed the edge of the stage and swung herself up alongside the Master.
She kicked him. “Get up,” she spat. “Get up so I can kill you!”
There was no response.
Terri felt the eyes of all the confused dancers on her. She gave the motionless body a nudge with her toe. “Come on, you bastard,” she said.
There was still no response.
Terri dropped slowly to her knees. She reached cautiously for his wrist, keeping an eye on his face all the time. She checked for a pulse.
She exhaled and dropped her head to her chest. “Shit,” she said, very calmly. The energy of her mad rush slowly drained out of her. The Doctor was dead, and now so was Methos. With any luck, the Master was dead too.
Her eyes filled with tears. Too tired to care, she let them spill over and run down her cheeks.
All dead. And there was nothing she could do.
She looked down at Methos’ wrist, still clasped between her thumb and forefingers. –No tattoo, she thought. –He had one before. Maybe it was drawn on.
Gone. All gone. And with the Master gone too, she couldn’t even avenge them.
A shuddering wave of sorrow went through her body and she sobbed in time with it. “Damn you, Master,” she whispered. “Damn you to hell.”
In deference to her sorrow, the musicians backed slowly away. A hush fell over the crowd. The only sound was Terri’s grief.
After a time, the crowd filed slowly out. The musicians left. They would remember this day forever, understanding what had happened but never talking of it again.
It was finally over.
The tears were drying on Terri’s cheeks. She looked around at the empty club, wondering where the people had gone.
She lifted her head to speak, but could think of nothing to say.
The wrist in her hand twisted suddenly around. A hand wrapped tightly around her own wrist.
“Yaah!” Terri shouted, jolting backwards.
“Relax,” said Methos, sitting up.
He let go of her wrist. She put her hand to her chest to slow the furious pounding of her heart. “Jesus, Methos . . . .” She looked him in the eye. “It is you, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “The Master is gone.”
Terri sighed. “That is good to hear. I thought you were dead, Methos.”
He shook his head and grinned. “I’m Immortal, remember?”
Terri smiled faintly. She let her shoulders drop. “But the Doctor . . . the Doctor’s dead, Methos. He’s dead!” She bit her lip to control the trembling, but it was not enough. A fresh bout of sobbing ran through her.
Methos put his arms around Terri. She let her head fall against his collarbone and sobbed into the black silk he was wearing. “I tried to fight,” he said, “but I didn’t know how.” He stroked her hair. Gradually she calmed down. “It was the Doctor who defeated him. He talked to the gestalt mind of all the dancers. When I surfaced, they fought back against the Master.” Terri stopped sobbing and listened. “Against all the odds, the Doctor still won.”
Terri pulled away and looked Methos in the eye. “But he died. How can you say that he won?”
Methos gripped her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Terri, how can you be sure he’s dead?”
She blinked a few times. “But . . . he wasn’t breathing . . . .”
“Terri, he’s a Time Lord.”
“But . . . I . . . .”
There was a groan. Methos grinned. “Told you so.”
Terri’s eyes widened. Her heart flipped in her chest. Taking her lip carefully between her teeth, she turned.
The Doctor was alive.
He was half-sitting half-lying on the floor, one hand on his forehead as he looked around him.
The Doctor was alive!
Terri’s face broke into a smile. She slid off the stage and ran across the dance floor to the Time Lord’s side. “Doctor!”
He looked up, his fingers caught in his auburn curls. “Terri?” He smiled. “Terri!”
She slid the last three feet, dropping into a kneeling position. “Dear God, are you all right? I thought you were dead!”
He shrugged, then winced. “No, I wasn’t dead. Just in psychic shock, I’m afraid. The Master hit me with quite a blow . . . .” Suddenly he exploded from the ground and was on his feet. “The Master! What happened?”
“The Master is dead,” said Methos, hopping nimbly down from the stage. He strolled across the dance stage. He stopped alongside Terri.
“Methos?” said the Doctor.
“Yeah,” he said, shrugging.
Terri sighed, then finally gave up and hugged the Doctor. “I was so afraid,” she said into his cravat.
He hugged her back. “Brave heart.”
“Afraid for you, silly.”
He tousled her hair. “I know,” he said, smiling.
The late afternoon sun shone down on Fort Snelling State Park, glistening off the Minnesota River and sending animals to seek shade. Three people stopped in the vast shadow of the Mendota Bridge, not far from a blue police box. Only one of them was younger than the bridge.
The Doctor looked up at the silent grey arches. “Did you know,” he said, “that this was the longest concrete arch bridge in the world when it was built?”
Terri smiled. “Yeah, I knew that.” Her smile seemed forced. The Doctor felt a twinge in his hearts. Suddenly he was afraid.
A jet roared overhead. They waited for the sound to stop.
“Well, Methos,” said the Doctor, “I’m sorry you missed your flight.”
“It was an adventure,” said Methos.
“I can give you a ride in my TARDIS,” he said. “After all, it’s my fault in a way.”
“What do you mean?” asked the Immortal.
The Doctor stared up into the shadowed recesses of the bridge. If he strained his ears he could catch the sound of nesting birds. “I thought I’d purged the TARDIS of the Master, but I was wrong.” He looked back at the two humans. One young but acting old, one old but acting young.
Terri laughed. “You don’t change, do you, Doctor?” Her eyes were serious. “You could never have known he was still alive.”
Methos nodded. “And now we know he’s dead.”
The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Do we?” He sighed. “Maybe I’m getting paranoid in my old age, but I can’t help thinking he’ll escape.”
“You’re not old,” said Methos.
The Doctor met the Immortal’s eye but did not answer.
“So,” said Terri, “what about the spaceship?” A mosquito landed on her arm. She slapped at it without noticing, killing the insect.
“The N’Vrokten ship?” asked the Doctor. He smiled. “Ask Methos.”
Terri frowned. “Methos?”
The Immortal nodded. “I caught a few things from the Master. I know that he set the ship to take off automatically. It’s gone by now.”
The Doctor smiled. “Very good! Once inside the TARDIS I’ll send a message to the N’Vrokten government. They’ll retrieve the ship from hyperspace.”
“Hyperspace?” asked Terri. She was frowning.
“I’ll explain one day,” he said and turned towards the TARDIS. He dug his key out of his velvet coat pocket.
“No,” said Terri. “You won’t.”
The Doctor turned. The twinge in his hearts returned. “Aren’t you coming?”
“No,” said Terri. She stepped up to him. “I . . . .” She sighed. “I’m going to miss you, Doctor.” He stood silent. He knew how this went. “But in the past two months I’ve put my life back together. I’m back in the Watchers, for one thing. It’s not that I don’t want to go with you, it’s . . . oh . . . .”
The Doctor nodded. “I understand.” Terri looked up, surprised. He rummaged in his pocket until he found a bag. He handed it to her. “Happy journeys, Terri.”
She took the bag without a word.
He looked across at Methos. “Are you coming?”
“Just to Seacouver?”
“Just to Seacouver, I promise.” He smiled. “Let’s go.”
Terri was still there. “Before you go, I . . . oh, heck.” She ran up to him and threw her arms around him. “Take care. And for God’s sake, please let the Universe take care of itself once in awhile!”
He pulled back. She was grinning, but he could see the tears in her eyes. He pretended not to notice.
“I’ll miss you too, Terri.”
“Doctor!” called Methos, already at the TARDIS door.
“Coming!” he called back. “Goodbye, Terri.”
And he turned to let Methos into the TARDIS.
Terri stood in the hot summer air watching a police box as if it were the most important thing in the world. There were tears in her eyes, but she did not cry. The mosquitos were biting. She didn’t seem to notice.
There was a thump. The light began flashing. With a wheeze and a groan, the TARDIS faded from reality.
Terri stood staring for several minutes. When she was sure it was gone completely, she began the slow hike back to the parking lot.
She looked into the paper bag the Doctor had given her. It was full of jellybabies. Grinning, she pulled one out of the bag and ate it. With a spring in her step and a song in her heart, she skipped down the trail.
The birds were singing above the river. Terri sang along.
“Goodbye my love, Maybe for forever
Goodbye my love, The tide waits for me
Who knows when we shall meet again
Keeps flowing like a river (on and on)
To the sea, to the sea”
— “Time,” The Alan Parsons Project”