Hi, all! This fic is very elaborate and I've been working on it for quite some time now. The first chapter is about the 1'st Doctor and written from his perspective. The second chapter will be about Doctor #2, and then #3, and so on. Some Doctors will have more than one chapter (hint, 10 has a lot!) Each time we move on to a different Doctor, the narrator changes. The Doctor narrates every other regeneration, while his new best friend Allee Ann Matrissee narrates the others. She will narrate 2'nd Doctor, and 4'th, etc. while he narrates 3'rd, 5'th, 7'th, the War Doctor, and so on.
Please enjoy, and leave prompts and ideas for the next Doctor or chapter! I need help with ideas for #2 and #3 now!
Doctor's Perspective:
The First Sandwich
"Good afternoon, Grandfather," I heard a familiar and much-loved voice say beside me.
"Susan," I pretended to be impatient, still fine-tuning the vortex thruster on the Tardis console, "you were out walking on Raghi for two hours. What if something happened to you, child?"
"Oh, Grandfather, it's only Raghi. There are people everywhere! It's perfectly safe!"
"I would tell Barbara or Mr. Chesterton to go with you, but they are asleep," I explained, turning to face her. "You really must be more careful when walking on strange planets by yourself, Susan."
"It's not strange," Susan complained, taking a seat beside me and leaning her elbows on the console.
I gently pushed her off again. I was trying to teach her not to slouch around like some of these uncivilized cultures were so used to doing. It seemed to me that we had been absent from Gallifrey so long that Susan had lost the erect posture with which any proud Time Lady ought to carry herself!
"And, Grandfather?"
"Yes, my dear?"
"I saw a little sandwich shop on the corner. Finer Hauhauti's Palace, it was called. Filled with people, mostly humanoid. Could we stop there for a bite to eat?"
"Probably has a bar, too," I griped in response. Susan knew so little about alien business. "'Finer Hauhauti's Palace'? Quite a long name, too; rather hard to pronounce."
"Are you complimenting my pronunciation, Grandfather?"
"More or less," I lied, since I hadn't thought about it. "Come on, let's take a look. I guarantee you five credits, although you should never bet, there's a more decent place a few streets over."
Grabbing my coat, because it was quite frigid for this time of year on Raghi, I exited the Tardis after securing its location and motioned for Susan to follow me. She did, beaming as she stuck her hands deep in the pockets of her coat.
The brisk walk from the Tardis to the shop proved to be quite entertaining. I knew from my studies that Raghi during this century was a most peculiar collection of species from all across the seven systems, and as we strolled I made certain to point out to Susan some of the more unusual species I knew she had little knowledge of yet. Susan listened to me with some interest, but I knew she was probably thinking more with her stomach than her head, as she set our pace rather rapid in the direction of the shop.
Suddenly, as I was in the middle of explaining the internal bioanatomy of Korrulians to my wandering granddaughter, she stopped on the opposite side of a street with an automated pedestrian highway. I looked up with interest at the building across the anti-gravity traffic path. It was a somewhat new-looking building, but rather large with a huge, vintage-looking neon sign on the front. The double doors were polished to a gleam, and a steady stream of mostly humanoid customers was flowing in and out.
I blinked once and turned to the girl beside me. "Lost, are you, my girl?"
She blinked back, confused. "This is the place, Grandfather."
I blinked again. This time I actually read the sign. "Finer Hauhauti's," it read in small print at the top, then, "PALACE," in big letters underneath.
"Oh, this is the place?" I asked Susan. "A big larger than you specified. I thought you told me it was a sandwich shop!"
"Well, isn't it?" she asked, pointing to a sign on one of the windows that advertised sandwiches.
I shook my head, not wanting to guess and find myself wrong. "Well, we might as well find out," I told her grumpily, stepping forward and taking a handle on the antigrav pedestrian lift.
Susan stepped in after me, watching the ground carefully. Once aboard, I lifted her chin with my hand, giving her a smile as her posture improved. It was incredibly lovely, having my granddaughter accompany me on my travels, especially after the family had rejected my ideas and tried to keep me planet-bound for so many years.
I knew I was to blame for her banishment from our home, but pushed that thought aside. I knew I would make up for the loss in the end. Susan would have the life she deserved, but even now, I had to admit it must've been quite nice for her, to travel in my Tardis!
The lift reached the other side of the street and we stepped onto the pavement, which was made of a slippery metal almost like glass. Our shoes were fortunately designed for such surfaces, though I knew that if Miss Wright or Mr. Chesterton decided to follow us, they would have quite a time walking in their old-fashioned Earth shoes.
A polite gentleman held the door for us as we entered the restaurant, for which I nodded to thank him. He had sloppy, whitish hair and a broad smile, and looked to be in his nineties. I always found it interesting how the average ages of civilian populations change with time. On old Earth, the human would have been viewed as being around only seventy years of age.
The environment of this diner; for it was a diner and not a sandwich shop; was very casual and seemed to me that it was the popular eatery for local city-dwellers. Nothing matched, down to the very seats and the colors on the booths' upholstery. However, a mix of old-timers and young folk were all gathered in groups or at tables, laughing and eating many different things as they visited with one another.
It was not my taste to frequent these sorts of places; however, Susan appeared enthralled by the taste of local culture so we continued to walk forward. The man who had held the door for us had rushed off without a word to serve another customer, but a young woman with three dark green braids flung down her back stepped up to us, carrying a stack of menus in one hand and balancing a tray with the other. She looked a little flustered and hot, but she flashed us a bright smile. "Welcome to the Palace, Sir, Ma'am; sit yourselves down anywhere you like—we'll be right to ya."
I raised my eyebrows, unimpressed, but Susan pulled me by my elbow to the bar and the far end of the diner. I could not believe it. "Susan, what in Kasterborous are you doing, child? That is the bar, where alcoholic beverages are served. I already told you we would not be going there!"
She gave me a look that was almost reproachful. "But Grandfather, more people at the bar are drinking sodas than beer!"
I opened my mouth to make a protest but the server behind the counter had already seen us and slapped two greasy menus down in front of the stools we stood next to. Unable to restrain my disgust, I stepped up onto the barstool but addressed the server. "Excuse me, sir, but is Hauhauti's Palace the only—" I cringed—"upscale—restaurant in the area?"
He opened his mouth slowly, realizing what we were asking—and none too happy about it, I was amused to note. "Well, Sir, if you're looking for upscale there's the Vinne and Howe; but frankly, their food isn't half as good and any of our customers will tell you that."
"I think I'd prefer that. Come on, Susan," I said quietly to her, jumping down from the stool and taking her arm.
"But Grandfather, you can't do that! That's rude!" Susan exclaimed, forcing me to practically drag her along behind me.
"Susan, I am two hundred and four and you are sixty. I think I shall be the judge of what is rude and what is—" I paused for the right words, "—necessary."
As I pulled her toward our exit, an unexpected swarm of beings came rushing through the double doors as if running from a fire! Suddenly rethinking our exit plans, I turned and pulled Susan the other way and back against a wall to prevent our being trampled by the crowd. "By my faith," I called out, adding extra emphasis on the 'th' at the end to attract somebody's attention. "What in the galaxy has come over you all? –Oof!" I ended in a grunt as a passing hunk of meat that was probably alive, since it was running and had tusks sticking out of its front, elbowed me in my middle in his haste to get to the front of the diner and order his food.
Susan was gasping for breath; but when I looked down at her face, expecting her to be pale and worried; I saw instead an expression of excitement and enthusiasm. I couldn't have comprehended what had come over her. I mentally swore to attempt at improving her taste in environments for experiencing alien culture.
Out of the chaos, I saw the girl I'd just noticed, the one with the green braids, climb atop one of the tables. "Alright, alright!" she hollered to all the customers surrounding her, sounding totally uncivilized. "One at a time, you animals! Happy hour or no, have pity on the new girl!"
At that, several burly-looking men laughed uproariously and the rest of the crowd caught on partway. Apparently they were amused by her flustered appearance as she furiously stabbed orders down on her holographic paper.
"Hag-salad and sandwich of the day!"
"Got any slop for my dog? He 'ad to wait outside!"
"A cream and two beers!"
"Which is better, sweetie, chips or butterballs?"
"Coffee and a barbecue sandwich!"
"Of the day, no, no slop just yet, wait 'till after four, cream for the kid, butterballs 'cause I make 'em myself, and coffee, extra strong okay?" the young waitress rattled off as she tacked on each order on her holopad.
"I'm ready to order!" yelled about three more customers.
"Cat sure didn't catch your tongues, though somedays I wish it would!" she griped, leaping down from the table and nearly knocking over several customers in the process, strutting over to take their orders.
Not really interested in this display of manners, I turned my head to find another way out through the crowd and accidentally caught the eye of the old man who'd held the door for us, shaking his head at the green-haired waitress disapprovingly. Apparently her behavior was disgraceful even to such a fine establishment as this.
I couldn't see any way out of the crowd, except—the corners of my mouth turned down even further. Our barstools were still empty, since the waiter had put menus down on the counter. They were about the emptiest places in the whole diner now.
"Susan," I stood up in an attempt to look dignified, no matter what a humiliating situation I had found myself in, "When we return to the Tardis, please enter in my log-book that I should never, ever visit a restaurant again during Happy Hour."
"What did you say, Grandfather?" she shouted delightedly over the noise.
I shook my head disapprovingly at her, just as the old man had at the waitress, and reluctantly led her back to the barstools where she took a seat gleefully and I carefully eased onto mine, not wanting it to break, since God only knew how long it had been here.
In the end, I ordered a salad, since it was on the front page of the menu and I wouldn't have to touch its greasy surface to look at the price. Besides, salad is usually beneficial for one's health. Although, I doubted that in this place, anything would be particularly good for one's health!
Susan ordered a sandwich with chicken and tomatoes. We both ordered coffee, since Susan had a taste for it and I did allow her to drink it on occasion.
I was surprised to see that the waiter who had taken our orders did not bring them to us—the green-haired girl did, setting our plates down with a smirk as she studied our faces.
"Pardon, Miss," I exclaimed, eyeing my plate, "I am entirely certain I ordered a salad!"
"Ha! Well, maybe you did!" she remarked in reply, the smirk growing wider. She tossed her head, one green braid coming far too close to my face, which I felt was starting to go red with anger.
"Madam, what kind of a response is that? I ordered a salad, and that's the only thing I'm paying for! Now bring it to me at once, without this nonsense!"
"Nonsense!" she acted offended, her round face puckering up in anger. "I have yer order right here, hon, 'sandwich, with chicken and tomatoes'. No mistaking it."
"My granddaughter ordered the sandwich!" I thundered, about to march out the door and clear the way with my fist if need be. "I ordered a plain, simple, uncomplicated salad! Are you telling me you cannot manage a salad at this establishment?"
"She has her sandwich, so apparently, you BOTH ordered one, and forgot you had the same thing!" she shrieked back at me.
"You are the most disrespectful waitress I have ever had the misfortune to encounter," I replied, feeling some of the heat in my face replaced by calm reason. There was no reason for someone as superiorly intelligent as I was to become so furious with a little child like this. "I would speak with your manager at once."
"Allee!" I heard someone yell from the back, as if they meant business. "Allee Matrissee, come here right now!"
The green eyes, that matched the girl's hair, flashed angrily at me one more time as she stuck her small chin out with vanity. I smiled politely and she turned in a huff, disappearing into the back of the diner, where I assumed the kitchen was.
Then I looked down at my sandwich. Now I would have to pay for it; at least, if nobody came to assist us. "Grandfather," Susan said reproachfully, "only you could manage to get into a terrible argument with someone you just met over a sandwich." She took a big bite of hers. "It's the best I've ever eaten, Grandfather, try yours!"
"Child, then I would have to pay for it!" I exclaimed, trying to make her understand.
"As if you've ever lacked…" she raised her eyebrows, testing the waters on a subject she knew not to venture into. Money, I will confess, is something I have never been particularly skilled at keeping track of—not that it had ever really mattered.
I gave her a hard stare before picking up my sandwich rather delicately and taking a bite. Although I was pleasantly surprised by the flavor, I kept my feelings to myself, the only answer I would allow being that I did actually finish the whole array and washed it down with my coffee. Quite strong coffee—just the way I liked it.
"Scuse me, Sir, that would be twenty-three—" another waiter started to say, but just then the green-haired girl ran out of the back, up to the counter, and thrust her arm in front of him, facing Susan and I. The haughty look was gone from her face, and she kept her eyes much lower. "—on the house," she finished, barely managing to look me in the eye, though her voice was strong as she spoke. "I apologize, Sir, for the way I treated you earlier. If you'd like a salad, that's free for ya too. I'll pay for it myself."
"No need," I replied slowly, narrowing my eyes at her. I could feel Susan's eyes on me the whole time. I reasoned, judging from the girl's downcast face that her manager was the white-haired man and he had given her a firm reckoning in the back while we had eaten. "What is your name, child?" Such impudence as she possessed could at least be recognized as—unique. It time, perhaps, it could be tempered.
"Matrissee, Sir. Allee Ann Matrissee."
"Madam Matrissee, did you happen to make the coffee that my granddaughter and I were served several minutes ago?" I asked with a small scowl, just for the fun of it.
Her green eyes went wide. "Yes, Sir."
"Well," I replied sternly, "There may yet be hope for your future, then."
I took Susan's elbow and ushered her through the diminishing crowd as 'Happy Hour' neared its end, leading her to the double doors I'd tried to reach multiple times now.
But just before pushing our way through, I had a sudden inclination to look back toward the counter. Small Madam Matrissee with her dark green braids still stared at me, not sure what to think of what I'd said. I gave her just the tiniest of smiles.
That was all it took. Instantly she flashed the same grin she'd given us when we first walked in, lighting up her face like a Gallifreyan summer sun.
I suppressed the urge to smile back, and continued to push Susan through the front doors.
"Well," I told her, once we were outside on the slippery pavement, "At least we had a fine adventure, my dear."
"Yes, Grandfather, at least," she grinned, holding back the rest of the words I knew she was thinking: "And that's all that matters anyway, isn't it?"