The Time Lord had not expected to see the other alien ever again; so it was quite a shock to see Ziggy in his full glory — spiked hair in its usual electric tomato hue, delicate face, lithe form in tight shimmering trousers and draped in Technicolour silk. Given Ziggy’s violent end — torn apart on stage to make way for the Infinites, a group of anti-matter lifeforms, to materialize — he was stunned to even see the alien rockstar alive.
For a moment, the two starmen silently gazed at each other. It’d been several centuries for the Doctor since he’d last laid eyes on Ziggy. He was in his fourth incarnation when he and Sarah Jane had watched, eyes blown open in abject horror, as the anti-matter beings rent Ziggy into pieces before a live audience.
It was Ziggy who broke into a smile first. “Haven’t seen you in ages, Doctor,” he said, his voice taking on an enthusiastic lilt.
“I know,” the Time Lord replied, a small smile curling up the ends of his own lips. Then, he asked, soberly: “How?”
“I was saved,” Ziggy replied in his quiet and melodious baritone voice, with a small nod. “The Infinites found my mental patterns and were able to reconstitute me into the form you see now. They gave me the ability to black hole jump, as well. I simply dematerialise, and then rematerialise,” he added with a graceful snap of his fingers, “wherever and whenever I wish.”
The Doctor’s eyes widened as he heard Ziggy’s explanation. “You mean…”
“I am bigger on the inside, Doctor. And you can certainly appreciate the underlying meaning of that.”
His curiosity now a lit forge, its inside flames flaring high and demanding he satiate them, the Time Lord slowly drifted out his own pale, spindly fingers, resting their tips on the side of Ziggy’s left cheek.
What immediately signaled back to the Doctor — both through his nerves and a broad pipeline filled with golden light that spilled into his mind — was itself incredibly infinite. He saw a lambent white globe which pulsed, thrumming gently like innumerable heartsbeats, surrounded by endless strands of space and time wound around each other, glowing crimson, amber, turquoise, indigo, and violet. He could have stood there for decades alone, his fingers on Ziggy’s cheek, and allowed his mind to drift along with the strands, following them wherever they spun and wound.
After a moment, the Time Lord pulled his fingers away.
“By Arcadia…” he murmured.
When the Doctor had first seen Ziggy, he knew he didn’t have the hearts to tell him that his creator came from a universe other than the one of his origin — and that he was now gone.
But staring at the other starman, a now genuine smile bloomed on his lips. He had the feeling that Ziggy’s creator had, too, been saved.
There’s a starman waiting in the sky
He’d like to come and meet us
But he thinks he’d blow our minds
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