//------------------------------//
// Not Quite Full Circle 
// Story: The Clock with Three Faces 
// by Sixes_And_Sevens 
//------------------------------//

“No!” the Doctor shouted as the watch swung open. Gold light flared out. Colgate’s eyes went dull and she collapsed in a heap.
The Time Lord sprang toward her as though shot from a cannon. Applejack observed the scene, lips pressed together tightly. Calco stared, horrorstruck. “What? What has she done?”
Rarity carefully checked the dentist’s pulse. “She’s still alive,” she said with relief.
Starlight was already checking over Minuette. “So is she,” she said, slumping back against the wall, smiling.
Caramel looked at his cousin. “Did you know she was going to do that?”
All eyes turned to Applejack. The mare shifted uncomfortably. “Ah didn’t know she was gonna do that specifically,” she replied. “Ah knew she was gonna try something. Something dangerous, Ah ‘xpect.”
“And you let her do it?” Calco boomed, glaring at the farmer.
Applejack stood tall. “Weren’t mah choice. An’ Ah trust her t’ do the right thing.”


***

Ah trust her t’ do the right thing.
Colgate paused. “What happens to Minuette? If I don’t take Romana out of her head?”
One blinked. “What happens to…”
Two turned to her. “That’s a good point, actually. I mean, she’s got a Time Lady’s brain stuck in there. That’s probably not altogether healthy.”
One nodded slowly. “Even the watches aren’t meant to hold them indefinitely,” she agreed.
“So…” Colgate prompted. “What happens?”
One frowned. “Hm. Death, at the worst. More likely a coma.”
Colgate nodded. “Right. Give me the blue pill,” she said firmly.
“Are you sure?” Two asked. “You don’t— “
“No,” Colgate agreed. “I don’t. But I’m going to. Not for Leela, not for me, and certainly not for Romana, but because it wasn’t Minuette’s fault. She was scared, and brave, and never meant for any of this to happen. And now she’s dying, and only I can fix it.” She took the blue pill from Two’s hand. She looked back and forth between the two. “Do me a favor, though?”
“Of course,” One said.
It took Colgate a moment to speak again. She blinked once or twice and said in a voice that shook only slightly, “Remember me?”
“Until the very end,” Two promised solemnly.
Colgate opened her mouth and swallowed the blue pill.


***

Romana’s eyes fluttered open. A tan stallion held her head in his hooves.“Doc… Doc-tor,” she choked out.
His eyes opened wide. “Yes?” he asked warily.
“She… was… the nobler.” Romana murmured. “She sacrificed her life for a stranger.”
“Who? Which one are you?” the Doctor demanded, eyes dark.
Romana’s eyes flickered briefly. A memory surfaced, and she smiled.
“Call me Fred,” she replied.


***

There was much more to be done, of course. The full story had to be told, obviously. Starlight and Twilight, after all, were completely lost, and it was important that Colgate’s bravery not be forgotten. Applejack herself blushed more than a tad when she heard that her comment had led to the final act of courage. She felt proud that her words had saved a life. It was tempered with guilt, though, from the loss. The TARDIS had to be taken back to Ponyville, with a slight detour to yesterday so that Romana could create the stable time loop that had gotten Applejack involved in the first place. And, of course, Calco had to return home.


***

Romana regarded the large, tawny earth pony sorrowfully. “Are you sure you have to go?” she asked.
“Yes.” the Tharil replied flatly. “For the last decade, I have been apart from my people, away from the fight. I must return to them.”
“I see, of course,” Romana nodded.
“Furthermore,” Calco continued, “for the last decade, I have been posing as a dental receptionist in a world full of colorful magic ponies, and I will take it no longer.”
“Ah,” said Romana.
The Tharil regarded her for a long moment. “Goodbye, Colgate,” he said, an unusually hoarse note in his voice. The air around him shimmered, and he was gone.
“Thank you,” Romana whispered after him.


***

Romana insisted that a funeral be held for Colgate. The mayor was very confused when she was first approached about the matter, as funerals are very rarely discussed by the ponies for whom they are held. Once she was thoroughly apprised of the situation, however, she rose admirably to the occasion. Romana was even allowed to read the eulogy. She was, after all, the one who knew the deceased best. It would take a callous mind to judge her for the hitch in her voice as she spoke of Colgate’s unusual birth and ultimate death. An empty casket was lowered into the ground. Empty, that is, except for a cracked pocket watch that had once bridged three minds. It was surreal, yet oddly solemn.

The Doctor threw in the first hoof-ful of dirt. He had considered bringing out his old scarf for the occasion, but decided against it. That scarf belonged to Romana's Doctor. Colgate had befriended him. 

They were so ephemeral, the Doctor thought as he walked away from the grave. He had only known Colgate for a day, but she had told him her life story. Was it a life story if it hadn't actually been lived? Was it her life even if it had all been an illusion? 

He felt a wing fall over his back, and he pressed himself into grey fur, breathing in the smell of baked goods and paper. They were so ephemeral. That was why they were so precious to him. He allowed Ditzy to lead him home, but he didn't go inside. He went to the TARDIS instead. He walked to the storage rooms, back past the Greek chiton of the girl who had thought him a god, back past the shattered badge for mathematical excellence, all the way to the little chamber covered in photographs. Faces smiled back at him, old friends and lovers and selves. 

He took out the picture he'd smuggled away from the wake, clipped it on at the end. Colgate gazed back at him. He sat down and stared up at her. They were so ephemeral. He remembered them all. Tonight would be a vigil. 


***

Romana laid the paper flat on Ditzy's kitchen table. Her housemate, Berry Punch, had taken the news of her sudden rebirth about as philosophically as she could. In practical terms, that meant that while Berry and her daughter, Ruby, were hit hard by the loss, Romana did still have a place to sleep. However, Romana had thought it prudent to let them mourn her alternate persona without any undue interference on her part. The Doctor and Ditzy had been kind enough to let her stay at their house for a few days, for which she was deeply grateful.

She placed a bowl at the top of the page to hold it flat, and laid a hoof at the bottom. The paper was old, and it bore the stains of its age. It had been gathering dust in Colgate's office for years now, ever since her arrival in Ponyville. This was the letter that had prompted her flight from E-Space, a paradoxical message that told of her eventual ascent to the Gallifreyan Presidency, of an attempt by some nebulous force to undo her accomplishments before they had ever happened. If she concentrated, she could remember echoes of whatever timeline all that had happened in.

The Doctor had conjectured that she had been split across the universes, just like him -- in another timeline, Calco had returned her safely to Gallifrey, where she had indeed become president and made all kinds of reforms to Time Lord society. She could believe that easily enough. Temporal theory had always held that diverging timelines by entering into another universe was possible, if incredibly risky. Her apparent ability to be aware of what her other self was doing was unexpected, but again not impossible. Little was known about travel between universes, after all.

What she still didn't understand, though, was one sentence in the last section of the letter -- a promise that the Doctor would be waiting at the other side of the CVE. Her recollections of the alternate timeline were shaky at best, but they were clearest at the moments immediately after her division. The Doctor hadn't been there, not for either of her, nor had he even known about the warning. The letter must have been written to lure her out of E-Space. But for what ends? Had she been the intended target, or had her temporal double? Frowning, Romana picked up the old paper once again and put in back in its binder. One thing was certain. This paper was a loose end. She had a nagging feeling that in the fullness of time, she would have to face that fact one way or another.


***

And then it was over. The coffin had been interred. The bills labeled “Colgate” had ceased to arrive. The last few impacts that Romana’s alter ego had made on the world began to fade like ripples in a pond. Caramel gazed sadly at the building that had once been the dental office. There would probably be a new dentist eventually. That would be something that could be dealt with when it happened. 

Quietly, Caramel took out a package. It had taken a few weeks to arrive from Trottingham, and when it had arrived, Ditzy had looked at him with deep, open concern. “You’re going to be alright,” she said. “I miss her too, but it’ll be okay. I promise.”

He had smiled and nodded and gone through the motions. Nevertheless, this had to be done. He opened the door and walked in. 

The silence was that of the grave, and Caramel had the feeling that he had walked into a mausoleum. But this time, there was no trespass involved. He walked past the cramped, dusty waiting room chairs, past the peeling posters encouraging ponies to floss, past the cobweb-covered reception desk. The hallway was shorter, now that the ‘bigger-on-the-inside’ machine had been removed, but the walk felt like miles. The confectioner opened the door to the dentist’s office. This was it. This was where the end had begun, he thought.
He was wrong, of course. Ends begin at the beginning. It's just that no one realizes it at the time.
Caramel set down the brown paper parcel on the counter, pulling the string undone with his teeth. He pulled out the bag inside and ripped that open, too. Then, reverently, he placed it on the dentist’s chair in the center of the room. With that, he took the brown paper and left, the bag of jelly fillies still sitting open on the chair like an offering on an altar, the faint smell of fruit pervading the room.