When he stepped out of the Tardis, all he saw at first were trees, though he could hear people not far away. Talking, working, laughing. Children laughing. He found himself drifting toward the sounds.

The edge of the wood was not far, and through the trees he could see small fields of vegetables and herbs. Further on, there were a few wooden buildings, interspersed with brightly-painted buses.

“Right,” he sighed. “Earth, the 1960’s or early ‘70’s.”

As he stepped out of the trees, a rather shaggy man in lightly soiled plant-fiber clothing appeared in front of him. “Hey, man,” he said, waving around a rolled piece of paper with one end trailing smoke. “Want a drag?”

“No thanks,” the Doctor murmured, veering around him. American accent, his mind observed idly.

He moved on, past the fields and the people working them, into a grassy area. The farm was surrounded by trees, and the trees by mountains. Now a blonde woman in cotton paisley started toward him. “I’m Stella,” she called, holding out her hand. “Who are you?”

“I’m the Doctor,” he said, ignoring her hand and continuing on.

“We weren’t expecting a doctor,” she muttered, confused. Then a pair of children dashed between them, and she turned to watch them and let him by.

He found himself drawn to a particular woman, closer to the buildings. She was dark-skinned, her hair a mass of tiny braids held back from her face by a purple scarf. Less discerning eyes than his would not have been able to tell, through her flowing cotton clothing, that she was three months pregnant. She was sitting on a log, reading a book to a group of children. One, a boy of about four with lighter skin but similar features to hers, was hanging on her arm.

The unicorn stood still at the edge of the forest and said aloud, “I am the only unicorn there is.” They were the first words she had spoken, even to herself, in more than a hundred years.

That can’t be, she thought. She had never minded being alone, never seeing another unicorn, because she had known that there were others like her in the world, and a unicorn needs no more than that for company. “But I would know if all the others were gone. I’d be gone too. Nothing can happen to them that does not happen to me.”

Letitia watched the stranger out of the corner of her eye. She could tell he was not ready to speak to anyone, so she tried to keep the children’s attention on the story. She watched as he sat down, almost surreptitiously, and listened with them. The story was touching something in him; it was as if he could see himself in the unicorn’s place, feel what she felt… and yet he was holding back. Was he afraid to let go in front of everyone? No, she thought; he simply didn’t know how. Before she dared to make eye contact, Stella came bounding toward them.

“Story time is over!” Letitia announced, closing the book and pretending not to see the stranger. “Who wants to go help with dinner?”
Several small hands shot up into the air.

“Daisy, Angela, and Phoenix!” Stella pointed to two girls and a boy, and they got up and gathered around her. “The rest of you can help clean up after.” Then she leaned in close. “Who’s the new guy?” she whispered. “He must be some kind of beatnik, to wear all black in summer. I thought he was probably ex-military, with that short hair, but he’s English. And he said he was a doctor, but…”

“Leave him to me,” Letitia answered, waving her away. Stella was a nice person, but somewhat dense, especially when it came to other people’s feelings.

“Forest,” she said to the boy at her side, “I need you to go to Daddy for a while.” He gave her a hug and ran off after the others.

Then she turned to the stranger. He had gotten up to leave, but she looked him in the eyes at last, and he stopped. “My name is Letitia,” she offered. “What’s yours?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer that at first; people didn’t usually phrase it that way. “I’m the Doctor,” he said.

Unlike most people, she didn’t question this; she just nodded. “You heal people,” she half-stated, half-asked.

“Sometimes.”

“But now you’re the one who needs healing.” She stood and offered her hands. “I can see it: you’re full of grief. It’s eating away at you, isn’t it? You have to let it out.”

“I haven’t had time,” he breathed, taking her hands. His mouth felt dry. “It’s too new.”

“I give you time.” She moved one of her hands to his cheek, and he gasped at how intensely he felt it. No one had ever given him time before, for anything. He was the one who always had time to give.

“I’m not asking you to tell me anything,” she went on, returning to her seat without taking her eyes away from his. “It’s probably better if you don’t talk. Just let yourself feel it. Let it take over. Only then can you let it go.”

He knew she was right; he didn’t need to be told. But actually doing it…

She squeezed his hand (he could feel her pulse) and her eyes pleaded with him (he could see the grain of her dark irises). But he needed time (the Earth turned)… always it was time. The one thing he ought to be in control of, and the one thing he could never hold for himself (clouds swept across the sky). Why could he sense every detail of his surroundings, but not reach his own emotions?

It was too soon (time is not a straight line); he didn’t even know her (they were sharing the same air). He needed time to develop trust… but she had given him time. He sank to his knees, almost smiling as the first sob caught in his throat. Then he laid his head in her lap as more followed. The tears did not come immediately, but when they did, it was like a dam letting loose. Both his hearts were broken, and he could feel it at last.

She laid one hand on his shoulder, and the other stroked his head. She kept silent as he soaked her skirt with tears; she didn’t try to hush him, or to ask him what he had lost. He wasn’t sure he could possibly explain it.

Scene Selection

1. Survivor	4. Revelation
2. The Unicorn	5. Time Spiders
3. Lentil Stew	6. Eternity