"Next Steps" - Part Eight
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Part Eight
“RUN!”
Finn didn’t need telling twice.
His little legs carried him as fast as they could along the glowing pathway while Zeeva held his hand.
Behind them, the First Fracture tore wider.
The sound wasn’t an explosion. It was worse.
It sounded like a thousand things breaking that Finn couldn’t see.
Bunsen hurried behind them, scanner clutched against his chest.
Beaker sprinted beside him. “MEEEEEEEEEP!”
The Fracture Echo pulled itself completely through the ancient ring.
Its body couldn’t decide what it was made from.
Stone. Metal. Stars. Buildings. Faces.
Entire galaxies briefly spiraled across its chest before disappearing beneath layers of blackness.
Finn glanced backward—bad idea.
The creature took one step and then another—each one carried it impossibly far.
“ZEEVA!”
“I know!” She spun around without releasing Finn; her sonic screwdriver flashed blue. VRRRRRRRM! The invisible pathway erupted into a lattice of brilliant energy between them and the Echo.
The creature struck it. Reality buckled.
Zeeva’s arm shook. “Go!”
Finn hesitated. “But—”
“Finn!” That tone settled it.
He ran.
— — — — — —
Bunsen reached the TARDIS first, leaping through the orb’s open threshold. “Quickly!”
Beaker shot inside. “MEEP!”
Finn raced toward them, just as the glowing path beneath him disappeared. His stomach dropped. “ZEEVA!”
He fell—for less than a second.
A hand caught his wrist.
Finn swung over the endless black expanse.
He looked up.
Zeeva lay flat against the invisible pathway, one arm stretched over the edge. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around his. “I’ve got you!”
Finn’s eyes widened.
Below him...there wasn’t darkness anymore.
There were worlds—thousands of them.
He saw New York.
Then another New York.
Then another.
In one, the skyline was ruined.
In another, strange towers filled Manhattan.
In another, Finn saw—himself. Older.
He blinked. The image vanished.
“Finn!”
He looked up.
Zeeva strained. “Little help?!”
“Oh! Right!” He grabbed her wrist with his other hand.
Zeeva pulled.
Bunsen appeared beside her and helped haul Finn back onto the pathway.
Finn collapsed against Zeeva.
For a moment, she said nothing. She wrapped both arms around him tightly. Finn could feel how hard she was breathing. “I’m okay,” he whispered.
Zeeva didn’t release him. “I know.”
“You’re squeezing me.”
“I know.”
“Kinda hard.”
“I know.”
Finn smiled. “Okay.”
She finally pulled back. Her hands remained on his shoulders. “You do not fall into the infinite space between universes.”
Finn nodded solemnly. “New rule?”
“Very new rule.”
“Good rule.”
“Excellent rule.”
The Echo struck Zeeva’s barrier again. CRACK!
She looked back. “Oh, that’s bad.”
Bunsen studied his scanner. “Your energy field is collapsing!”
“I had gathered that!”
The TARDIS doors slammed behind them.
Zeeva immediately raced for the console. “Bunsen!”
“Already working!”
“Beaker!”
“MEE?”
“Anything blue!”
Beaker stared at the console.
Zeeva reconsidered. “Actually, no. Forget I said that.”
“Mee.”
Finn would’ve laughed if the Echo hadn’t just reached the TARDIS.
BOOM!
The entire console room shook.
Finn grabbed the railing. “Can it get in?!”
“No.”
BOOM!
Zeeva looked toward the door. “Probably.”
Finn stared at her. “Probably?!”
“I'm trying to maintain morale!” Zeeva pulled one lever on the console, twisted two dials, and smacked something with her palm.
The central column began moving.
Nothing happened.
“Come on.”
Another impact.
BOOM!
The lights flickered.
“Come on, darling.” She pulled the dematerialization lever.
The TARDIS groaned.
Then—VWORP!
The room lurched.
The First Fracture vanished from the scanners.
Finn remained clinging to the railing.
Nobody spoke.
Several seconds passed.
Bunsen checked the instruments. “We’ve moved.”
Zeeva exhaled. “Good.”
“Approximately four meters.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Four—?”
BOOM!
Everyone screamed.
Zeeva slapped both hands onto the console. “Oh, you stubborn old girl, NOW IS NOT THE TIME!”
The TARDIS gave an offended groan.
Then—VWORP! VWORP! VWORP!
The central column surged.
The room shook violently.
And finally...silence.
Bunsen checked his scanner. “We’ve returned to conventional dimensional space.”
Zeeva sagged against the console. “Wonderful.”
Beaker kissed the console. “Mwah!”
Zeeva pointed. “Don’t do that.”
Beaker stopped. “Mee.”
Finn stood apart from them. He wasn’t celebrating.
Zeeva noticed. She crossed the room. “Hey.”
Finn looked at his hands. “I saw myself.”
That got her attention. “What?”
“When I fell.”
Bunsen approached as Finn continued, “There were worlds underneath me.”
“Parallel realities,” Bunsen deduced.
“I saw loads of me.”
Zeeva and Bunsen exchanged a glance.
Finn noticed. “There was one who was older.”
“How old?”
“I dunno.”
“Adult?”
Finn nodded. “Maybe.”
“What was he doing?”
Finn concentrated. “He was standing in front of the fracture.”
Zeeva became very still. “And?”
Finn looked at her. “You were there.”
The room fell completely silent.
Bunsen slowly raised his scanner.
Zeeva stopped him. “No.”
“But—”
“He’s ten.”
Bunsen lowered it.
Finn frowned. “You keep saying that like I don’t know.”
Zeeva looked down at him. “I’m reminding myself.”
A quiet chime came from the console.
Bunsen turned. “Oh.”
Finn pointed at him. “No.”
Bunsen blinked. “No?”
“No more saying ‘oh.’ I can’t stand it anymore.”
“But this is actually rather—”
“Say something else.”
Bunsen considered. “My goodness.”
Finn nodded. “Better.”
“My goodness!”
Zeeva approached. “What?”
Bunsen projected the readings. Three glowing lines appeared.
Then dozens. Hundreds. Each represented a timeline, branching outward from Earth-M.
Then something strange happened. Every line curved.
Not toward the same universe. Toward the same point.
A tiny golden light.
Finn.
Bunsen adjusted his glasses. “This explains the Anchor designation.”
Finn stared. “So I’m…holding the universes together?”
“No,” Zeeva answered immediately.
Finn seemed almost disappointed. “Oh.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed.”
“I thought it sounded superhero-y.”
Zeeva crouched beside him. “It isn’t a power.”
“Then…what’s an Anchor?”
She looked toward Bunsen.
He nodded.
Zeeva brought the hologram lower. “Every decision creates possibilities.” Finn watched the branching lines. “You choose left instead of right.” The line divided. “You stay home instead of going outside.” Another division. “You buy one comic instead of another.” More branches. “Most possibilities keep spreading.” Finn followed them with his eyes. “But yours…” The branches curved toward the golden point. “…keep coming back.”
“To me?”
“To something you do.”
Finn looked confused. “In the future?”
Zeeva nodded slowly. “We think so.”
Bunsen expanded the image. “The pattern is extraordinary. Countless possible histories diverge…but an unusually high percentage converge again at the First Fracture.”
Finn stared. “And I’m there?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“We don’t know.”
Finn groaned. “Again?”
“Again.”
Zeeva stood beside the hologram. “That’s what the Echo meant.” Finn looked at her. Zeeva elaborated, “When it said, ‘You came back’? That’s what it meant.”
“But I haven’t.”
“Not from your perspective.”
Finn thought about that. His expression became horrified. “Wait.”
Zeeva already knew the question.
“If future me goes there...”
“Finn—”
“And that thing remembers future me now...”
“Finn.”
“Then does that mean I have to go back?”
Silence. That was the question Zeeva hadn’t wanted him to ask.
Finn looked at her. “Do I?”
Zeeva walked toward him. “No.”
Bunsen glanced at her.
Zeeva didn’t care. “No prophecy gets to own you.”
“But the Diary—”
“Is a book.”
“The ring—”
“Is a machine.”
“The Echo said—”
“I don’t care what it said.”
Her voice became firmer with each answer.
Finn stared at her.
“You are not obligated to become somebody just because the future says you will.” She crouched. “You choose who Finn Whizz becomes.”
Finn looked at the hologram. “But what if choosing differently destroys everything?”
That stopped her.
The paternal certainty in Zeeva’s expression gave way to something quieter. Painfully honest. “I don’t know.”
Finn waited.
She sighed. “I wish I did.”
He studied her face. “You’re scared.”
Zeeva smiled weakly. “Terrified.”
That surprised him. “You don’t look scared.”
“Practice.”
“Does it work?”
“Not remotely.”
Finn smiled. So did she.
Bunsen interrupted gently. “There is something else.”
Finn looked over.
Bunsen enlarged the readings from the First Fracture.
A silhouette appeared.
The Fracture Echo.
Then another pattern: Finn’s golden temporal signature.
They overlapped. Almost perfectly.
Zeeva’s smile disappeared. “No.”
Bunsen nodded. “I checked it four times.”
Finn walked closer. “What?”
Bunsen hesitated.
Zeeva answered, “That creature carries your temporal signature.”
Finn stared at her. “What does that mean?”
“We don’t know.”
“Zeeva.”
She closed her eyes and then opened them. “It means some part of that Echo came from a timeline connected to you.”
Finn backed away. “I’m turning into that thing?”
“No.”
“Am I gonna make them?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
Zeeva had no answer.
Finn’s breathing quickened. “What if this is my fault?”
She crossed the space between them immediately. “Finn.”
“What if I do something and those universes—”
“Finn.”
“—and all those people—”
Zeeva gently took his face between her hands. “Look at me.” He did. “This is not your fault.”
“But—”
“You haven’t done anything.”
His eyes were wet now.
“You are ten years old.”
“But future me—”
“Isn’t standing here.” She brushed her thumb beneath one of his eyes. “You are.”
Finn sniffed. “So…what am I?”
Zeeva thought about it.
Not what the machines said. Not what the ancient ring called him.
What he needed to hear.
“You’re Finn Whizz.”
He blinked. “That’s it?”
“Ten years old.” She counted gently. “Reads too many comics.”
“There’s no such thing.”
“Argues with Time Lords.”
“Only when they’re wrong.”
“Frequently sarcastic.”
“You started that.”
Zeeva smiled. “And very, very brave.”
Finn looked down. “I’m not brave.”
“You told something that wore your father’s face that it couldn’t control you.” He said nothing. “You ran toward impossible things when every sensible instinct told you not to.”
Finn looked up. “That’s brave?”
Zeeva considered, smirking. “Possibly stupid.”
“Hey!”
“But brave.”
Finn laughed. Then unexpectedly—he hugged her.
Zeeva froze. Only for a moment. Then her arms wrapped around him.
Finn pressed his face against her. “I wish my dad could meet you.”
Zeeva’s expression softened. “So do I.”
“He’d probably like you.”
“Obviously.”
Finn chuckled.
A quiet moment passed.
Then he whispered, “I never had a mom.”
Zeeva’s smile faded. She looked down at him.
Finn suddenly seemed embarrassed. “I just meant—”
“I know what you meant.”
He loosened the hug.
Zeeva didn’t. Instead, she held him a little tighter. “You don’t have to call me anything you’re not ready to.”
Finn looked up.
Zeeva smiled. “But I’m not going anywhere.”
His face brightened. “Promise?”
That word hit her harder than she’d expected.
Time Lords should never promise forever. Zeeva knew that better than most. So, she chose her words carefully. “I promise I’ll be here for as many next steps as you’ll let me.”
Finn smiled. “Next steps?”
“Every adventure has them.”
Behind them…the multiverse hologram flickered.
Neither noticed.
Earth-616 brightened.
Then another universe.
Then another.
Two realities began drifting dangerously close.
A warning appeared: DIMENSIONAL SEPARATION DECREASING.
Bunsen saw it. His expression changed. “Zeeva.”
She looked up. One glance at the hologram was enough. “No.”
Finn released her. “What?”
Bunsen started scanning. “The instability is accelerating.”
The display zoomed outward.
Pairs of universes throughout the multiverse were moving closer together.
Not naturally.
Something was pushing them.
Finn remembered the vision from the First Fracture. “Incursions.”
Zeeva stared at the map. “Yes.”
Bunsen isolated one pair: Earth-M and another universe.
Finn’s stomach dropped. “Which one’s that?”
Bunsen enlarged the designation. It flickered and then stabilized.
EARTH-828-M
Bunsen went silent.
Beaker approached the console. “Mee...?”
Finn understood. “That one’s yours.”
Bunsen nodded.
Their two worlds were moving toward one another.
Earth-M.
Earth-828-M.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
A countdown appeared.
Zeeva stared at it.
Finn looked between her and Bunsen. “What happens when they touch?”
Nobody answered, but Finn already knew.
The end of two worlds.
Then the hologram changed, and a third signal appeared, originating far beyond either universe.
Earth-616.
A wave of dimensional energy rippled outward from it.
Bunsen stared. “The disturbance from Earth-616 is accelerating the convergence.”
Finn swallowed. “So…they’re the ones causing it?”
“No,” Zeeva said. She studied the pattern carefully. “They’re making something that was already happening happen much faster.”
Another pulse struck.
The countdown dropped sharply.
Bunsen’s voice trembled. “How much time?”
Zeeva calculated. Her expression hardened. “Not enough.”
Finn looked at Earth-M—his home—then at Earth-828-M—Bunsen and Beaker’s home.
Two worlds headed for destruction.
The boy who dreamed of becoming a superhero suddenly didn’t look excited anymore. He looked determined. “What do we do?”
Zeeva turned toward him.
Finn stared at the hologram. “You said I get to choose who Finn Whizz becomes.”
Zeeva slowly nodded.
He looked up at her. “Then I choose to help.”
For several seconds…Zeeva said nothing. Then that familiar smirk returned. Not because she wasn’t frightened; because she was proud. The Eighth Tinkerer rose and turned toward the TARDIS console. “All right, superhero.”
Finn’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
He grinned.
Zeeva grabbed the dematerialization lever. “Bunsen, find me the exact point where the universes will intersect.”
“Immediately!”
“Beaker—”
“Mee!”
Zeeva paused. She looked at the sea of blue controls and then at Beaker. “Just…stand somewhere encouraging.”
Beaker gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “MEE!”
Finn laughed.
Zeeva looked toward him. “Ready?”
He stood a little straighter. “Ready.”
The engines began to roar.
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