Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/Stay Night or Doctor Who.
Fate/Who
Sometimes when Shirou and Rin were busy researching and practising their magecraft, Saber liked to go on long walks, to see what had become of her country in the intervening centuries. Occasionally she would spend afternoons the library to discover what she she could of its history. The Grail after all, had only given her a broad overview, just enough to get by. She supposed the novelty of it would wear off eventually, but it had only been a couple of months since they had arrived in London and right now everything was still new to her. It lightened her heart a little, to know it had done so well after the way she had left it.
She had been taking a short-cut through a park on her way home from one of her library visits, it was late in the afternoon and the area was steadily emptying, when she heard it. A sound that was instantly recognisable to her, a distorted whirring that was at once both heartening and annoying. Fitting seeing as the man it heralded was capable of being both admirable and infuriating.
Without a moments hesitation she rushed towards the sound. She hadn't gone more than a dozen steps when she saw it, that distinctive blue box fading into existence a door on the front swung inward and a figure stepped out.
A first she hesitated, he looked completely different from when she last saw him and not just in dress or style, his entire physical appearance had changed. Then he pulled out that wand of his, what he called his sonic screwdriver, and all doubt was wiped from her mind. It could be no-one but him, he simply must have regenerated since they last met.
Suddenly she felt a rush of emotion coming crashing down on her. She marched towards him as he turned to face her; at first he looked confused but after a moment smiled at her in recognition. As she drew near he raised his arms as though to draw her into a hug...and she punched him in the stomach. That punch contained years of pent-up anger and frustration that she had been unable to vent; and he crumpled to his knees as the wind was knocked out of him.
“Hello, Wart,” he wheezed, in between greats gulps of air.
“Don't call me that!” she all but snarled. “You aren't permitted to call me that, not after the way you just left!”
“Ah, yes,” he responded as he struggled back to his feet. “Sorry about that.”
“Sorry?! What good do you're apologies do me?” She could already feel her eyes beginning to burn and had to resist bringing an arm up to wipe at them. Damn it, she wasn't going to cry not over this, not in front of him.
“I suppose I owe you an explanation?”
“Yes, you do.”
“Alright, but why don't we go somewhere a little bit more private?” he asked. “I think we're beginning to draw some attention.”
She cursed under her breath, he was starting to talk his way into control of the situation like he always did but as she looked around she saw he was right. All of the people left in the park were staring at them, one woman appeared to have her mobile phone halfway out of her pocket and looked as though she was contemplating whether to call the police. Beside which, the stinging in her eyes was only getting worse, despite her best efforts; and even if she wasn't the king anymore, she still felt embarrassed at the thought of crying in front of an audience.
“Very well...” she muttered.
“Excellent!” he exclaimed. “I know a great pub not far from here, they do amazing meat and potato pies. My treat.”
Her stomach grumbled at the mention of food but no, she would not allow him to bribe his way out of this one.
- - -
The food really was rather good, Saber acknowledged. Not up to Shirou's level of course, but she knew it would be rather unfair to hold every chef to that standard.
The two of them sat in a quite corner of the pub, in front of her Saber had a plate of food and pint of dark brown beer. It was the first time in a long time that she had tasted proper ale, she knew she looked too young to be served in most places. Fortunately her companion had allowed her the use of his psychic paper so she could show the barman “her driver's licence”. All of it had been paid for by him, as he'd promised.
All her old acquaintance had was a glass of Coca-cola, complete with ice and a straw.
She'd manage to regain her her composure while waiting for her order. The food and drink had managed to improve her mood further and somehow the man had managed to get her into a discussion on the old days, when her had taken her “adventuring”.
“And I remember the squirrel-girl who was determined to get you into bed!” he chuckled. “She looked so disappointed when we had to leave, you quite the ladies' man, you know.”
She felt her cheeks turn red, the alien woman had been exceptional persistent and had had quite the pair of ... wandering hands. She swallowed her current mouthful of food before responding:
“At least mine was still better looking than yours.”
To her satisfaction she saw him grimace slightly at the reminder but his good humour returned almost instantly. As they discussed more of their past together.
“I'll never forgive for that you know,” she said.
“What?”
“Giving me a penis!” she hissed.
“You said you needed an heir!”
“Couldn't you have just found an orphan and said that Guinevere had birthed him?”
“Well yes but my way was more fun.”
She nearly choked on her food.
After a few more minutes of reminiscing Saber pushed away her empty plate and dispelled all trace of emotion from her face. It was time they got down to business, he was supposed to be giving her an explanation.
“So how did you wind up in the twenty-first century anyway?” he asked, pre-empting her.
She sighed remembering how obstinate he could be and decided to simply answer his question. Maybe then he'd have less of a reason to duck hers.
So she gave him a brief overview of the Grail War, from the moment she had been summoned by Shirou, to when she had unleashed Excalibur on the Grail, certain it would be the last action she would ever take and eventually her re-awakening in the Emiya household. Occasionally he broke in with a question and she did her best to answer.
“Sounds like you've been having grand adventures without me,” was all he said when she was done. She merely nodded in response. Silence overtook them and when he didn't break it she took that to mean it was her turn.
“So,” she asked. “Why did you leave?”
He stared at her for a moment before responding.
“I'm sorry,” he replied. “Something came up.”
Now it was her turn to stare, mouth-agape as he took another sip of his drink.
“That's it!” she said, remembering only at the very last moment to keep her voice down. “You abandoned Camelot, abandoned me and that's your explanation?!”
“There's nothing else I can say.”
“God damn you! Everything fell apart after you left! Do you understand? Everything!” she exclaimed, giving voice to the same years of of pent-up frustration, anger, guilt and sorrow that had fueled her earlier attack; the tears returning full force. “You left right when I needed you most and all I get is “Something came up”?!
He remained silent, so she continued:
“You were wrong, I wasn't a good king. I failed and people died. Do you know what that's like?! To see innocent people die and know it's all your fault?!”
“...Yes.” he replied and she could see it in his eyes, the shadow of emotion that indicated he knew exactly how she felt. Damn it, that wasn't fair! He wasn't supposed to make her empathise with him, he was just supposed to sit there and take her wrath. She flopped back into her chair, suddenly exhausted.
“But you weren't completely wrong, you know.” he continued after a moment.
“Excuse me?”
“I found out about what happened afterwards. The decision's you made weren't necessarily wrong, the were tough but you didn't have the resources to make things easy.”
“Then why did my own people turn against me?”
He shrugged.
“People need someone to blame when things go wrong.”
“If only alleviating me of my failures were that easy.”
“I know, but sometimes there is no winning move,” he said, before suddenly becoming more upbeat. “Besides, you did leave at least one good thing behind.”
She simply snorted.
“What?”
“Your legacy, your legend.”
“My legend? My legend is one great lie.”
“Maybe,” he responded. “But does that really matter.”
“What? Of course it matters!”
“Really? Because that lie had inspired countless people over the centuries. Kings and knights would hear it and aspire to become better, to reach for the ideal of chivalry you represented. Little children would read books about you and stop being afraid of the dark because they wanted be brave like you and your knights. People would remember you and it would remind them that somewhere out there there are people who will take a stand against all the dark things in the world. Sometimes how we're remembered is more important than how we live.”
“But -”
“Not to mention, you gave this country the spirit of law.”
“I...What?”
“Before you people still followed the old tribal system of the strong preying on the weak. Your father's knights would take what they want because they were knights and the peasants had no right to defy them. You were one of the first to say that it was the duty of the strong to protect those who could not protect themselves.”
Her vision began to blur and she had no choice but to bring her hands up to wipe her eyes. Her companion offered her a handkerchief and she accepted it gratefully. When she had finally composed herself again she handed the piece of cloth back and found him smiling fondly at her.
“Come on,” he said. “I think it's about time we left.”
The sun was just beginning to set as they left. They walked down the street away from the pub in a comfortable silence at first, until her friend spoke up again:
“There is one last thing, you know.”
“What?” she asked
“You've fulfilled the final part of you're legend quite admirably.”
“The final part...?”
“About appearing to defend England in her hour of greatest need?”
“But I haven't - “
“Correct me if I'm wrong but this “Holy Grail” was tainted correct?”
She nodded.
“And this taint would've decimated humanity and left this country in ruins, correct.”
Again she nodded.
“Then by destroying it you fulfilled the criteria nicely. You didn't defended England on her own shores but you did defend her.”
She didn't know what to say to this so she didn't say anything, and once again the two of them continued on their way in silence. Until eventually they reached a point where they needed to separate.
“My home is straight on,” she said
“And I believe I left my ship this way,” he replied, pointing in the other direction. “Take care of yourself Wart.” He ruffled her hair.
“I wish you wouldn't call me that,” she grumbled, smiling and swatting his hand away. “Safe travels and thank you for everything, Merlyn.”
“You don't need to call me that anymore, you know.” She nodded.
“Farewell, Doctor.”
He waved at her as he departed and she watched him walk away until he turned a corner was lost from her sight. Then she looked back at her own path, suddenly feeling much lighter than she could remember ever having felt. Maybe if she hurried home she would still be able to catch the end of dinner.
- - -
The Doctor walked onto the bridge of the TARDIS and began to work the controls automatically, his mind was lost in thought. He seemed to have been relieved of a small weight he hadn't known he was carrying, nothing major but still...
He had honestly never thought he would see Arturia again, not that he wasn't grateful for the opportunity. He had had a number of companions during his life but she was the only one he could refer to as his student and he was fond of her, even if he knew he had messed up as a teacher. Those lives that had been lost during the later days of her reign had been at least partially his fault and it had pained him to see her blaming herself for them.
He knew back then that she'd had the potential to be a good, perhaps even great ruler but he'd pushed too hard and too soon and the result had been disastrous. He'd known about the result for Camelot as a whole but before today he'd never given much thought to what it had done to the girl herself, beyond her untimely death.
He smiled bitterly to himself as he finished plotting his course. It seemed the next seven hundred years of his life were going to be spent making up for the mistakes of the first seven hundred.
- Fin -
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Originally Posted by ILurkNoMoar
