X 01
Author's note:
This is my last Doctor Who story. It's time I got back to work and stopped day-dreaming!
My thanks to everyone who's read my stuff and left reviews. I love reviews!
This has been split into two parts, as it turned out to be so unfathomably long.
Sadly, I neither own Take That or Deacon Blue, nor their lyrics.
So for the last time: this is me, finishing off the Author's Note.
Please enjoy 'Four Into Ten Does Go: Part One'.
Fergus turned his hand slowly, watching the tweezers and the tiny chip firmly grasped in them move under the microscope. He sniffed to himself, shook his head slightly, and reached out with his left hand for the tiny-headed technical screwdriver on the bench.
He picked it up without looking, staring at the tiny chip and bringing the head of the tool into range.
The door behind him swung open quickly, banging into the wall behind.
Fergus jumped and dropped the tool, almost dropping the tweezers too.
"Afternoon, Mister Campbell!" the Doctor cried with gusto, walking into his room otherwise silently.
"Skipper, yi nearly gave me a heart attack," he breathed, putting the tweezers down carefully and turning to watch the Time Lord.
He was simply ambling round the large room, hands in his brown trouser pockets, eyes running over everything with a voracious desperation Fergus had come to recognise as a sign of impending trouble.
"Doing something important?" the Doctor asked gamely, wandering over and looking over his shoulder at the work surface. "Oh," he said, crest-fallen.
"Something Ah could help yi with?" Fergus asked politely, turning and looking up at him.
The Doctor turned away, sniffing and pulling a face that a small child deprived of ice-cream might use by accident.
"Well…" he dithered, turning in circles slowly, his feet crossing over themselves to keep him moving round in a kind of strange, almost-falling manoeuvre that was inherently graceful at the same time. "Have you… ah… Have you thought of somewhere to go?"
"No," Fergus said with great satisfaction. "Yi lost, mate. Accept it. Yir just gonnae huv tae wait fae me tae decide where wir going this time."
The Doctor came to a stop.
"I do know you cheated," he said lightly.
"Ah didnot cheat, fae thi hundredth time!" he cried, annoyed. "Noe stop pulling that face like a wet weekend and find something tae be getting on with!"
The Doctor hesitated, then walked over again slowly to see the small parts littering the desk.
"I could help you with –"
"No!" Fergus said loudly. "Really, Skipper, Ah'm ok here. Go and make some tea, or something."
"I've had twelve cups of tea in four hours," he said, then looked at Fergus. "I know! A Celtic match!" he said suddenly. "Pick a match – any match. Probably one where they beat Rangers, knowing you. You know I can get any tickets you want – right in the Jock Stein stand! What do you say?" he grinned, excited.
Fergus opened his mouth, then caught himself.
"Ah said no!" he said firmly. "Yir no supposed tae be picking thi place this time, Skipper! Yi lost tae me fair and square, so stop greetin' aboot it and wait."
"You're no fun, you are," the Doctor sighed, turning and walking slowly toward the door. Fergus watched him go, taking in the rounded shoulders of defeat, the heavy tread, the air of absolute and complete boredom.
"Skipper," he said quickly. The Doctor stopped and turned slowly, raising his eyebrows at him. "Get some chips in while Ah think," he added cheekily.
"I don't know why I put up with you humans, I really don't," he breathed to himself, but turned and walked out cheerfully.
Fergus grinned and turned back to his desk.
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The Doctor slammed the TARDIS down with perhaps a little more shaking than necessary, but no Fergus emerged to admonish him, so he pouted for a second before crossing to his long brown coat. He pulled it off the support beam and fished around in the pocket, drawing out an EPS card. He thought for a moment, then put it back and searched again.
He pulled out a Delta card and stuffed it in his pocket along with his key.
"Oi! Tourette's Boy! If they haven't got those disgusting fish things, do you want saveloy?" he called.
"Aye!" came the echoed response, and he turned to the TARDIS doors. He let himself out and locked the door before looking around.
He found a perfectly normal street, no-one actually around to pay any attention, and he put his hands in his pockets and started walking.
He found the tiny lane with the olde worlde chip-shop exactly where it had always been, and grinned before pushing the half-glass door open. The tiny chimes over the door sounded as he walked in.
The lady behind the high metal counter smiled at him.
"Oh and here you are again, Mister Smith," she said with a friendly smile. "Same again?"
"Er… yeah, alright," he said, his eyes sliding to the pictures on the menu board. "Although…"
"Oh 'ere we go," she grinned, putting her hands on the metal surround and leaning toward him slightly. "Do we have to do this every time?"
"Well do you have anything new?" he asked with a disarming smile, and she leaned her hands off the counter again, shaking her head.
"Same again, then," she said, winking at him and turning to the large vats behind her.
The Doctor ambled over to the chairs in the window, sitting and folding his arms, whistling to himself as he looked around the room idly.
He jumped as he heard a thumping on the glass behind him. He looked up and the lady grinned at him.
"One of your lot?" she said knowingly. He got up.
"Mister Campbell," he said as the door opened, making the small chimes tinkle and fuss. "If you're not going to–"
"You're back! We've been waiting ages!" Martha Jones grinned, then paused, looking him up and down. "When did you get your suit back? Or no, don't tell me, you have several spares," she teased. "Well? Did you get it?" she added expectantly.
"Martha Jones!" he cried happily, advancing on her.
"Er, yeah, hi," she breathed as picked her up and spun her round in a warm hug. He deposited her on the tiles and grinned at her maniacally.
"What are you doing here!" he beamed.
"You don't have it with you?" she said, her grin slipping.
"Have what with me?" he asked, baffled.
She stared at him, taking in his confused face. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, have you?"
"Uh…"
"But where's Br–." She stopped dead. "Oh! Right!" she gasped suddenly. "This is the chip shop!"
"Well, yes," he confirmed, confused.
"No, this is the chip shop," she said meaningfully. He just shook his head at her, lost. She nodded to herself, over and over, grinning suddenly. "So, ah… what are you up to these days? Where's Fergus?" she asked carefully. He took a step back warily.
"Fergus is – at home," he replied, watching her with narrowed eyes that suggested he was confused. "He's waiting for his chips, some stupid errand he's sent me on to – why are you looking at me like that?" he asked quickly, noticing her omnipotent smile.
"Nothing, nothing, it's fine, everything's fine, carry on," she said, backing away. His face screwed up in befuddlement.
"What is it?" he asked urgently.
"Nothing! Really! It's fine!" she said. "I get it! You don't yet, but you will," she said, relaxing.
"Martha Jones, what –"
"Doctor, listen," she said easily, ignoring the strange look the lady behind the counter was giving her. "Let Fergus pick. Seriously," she added, her face stern.
"Let him pick?" he asked blankly.
"Let him pick. And I'll see you again, mister," she said, unable to stop a smile at the thought. "Don't you worry about that."
"But… What about now?" he asked quickly.
"That's all I said – got to go!" she said quickly, as she hurried back to the door and out.
"Where are you going?" he called.
"Let him pick!" she called, waving brightly and running off.
He hurried to the door and grabbed it to stop it closing, but she was already gone. He stood, one hand on the door, watching her run down the street and out of his life.
"For the second time," he muttered.
Then he turned and let go of the door, letting it close behind him softly. The bell tinkled as he stared at the floor, thinking.
" 'Ere we go, my love," the lady said loudly, and he looked up. "Four suppers, three fish and one saveloy. That's seventeen pound ninety, please."
He walked over in a daze and handed her the Delta card. She smiled and took it, swiping it and putting the small box on the counter top.
"Number please," she said cheerfully.
He looked at her for a long moment, then shook himself and tapped in his security number.
"Do you have a newspaper?" he asked suddenly.
She looked at him, amused.
"Apart from the ones your chips are wrapped in, we've got this one," she said with a smile, handing over a much-read one.
"What's the date?" he asked quickly, taking it from her.
"Honestly love! Where have you been, on the moon?"
"A few times," he muttered, looking at the date at the top. "4th September, 2008?" he said to himself.
"Yep, all day," she said confidently.
"Right," he agreed slowly, reaching out and taking the card back, stuffing it back in his pocket before taking four small plastic bags from the counter top. "Oh. Did I ask for four?" he asked suddenly.
"Where is your head today, Mister Smith?" she teased. "Same again, you said. So that's the same as yesterday: three with fish, one with sausage." She paused as she watched him take this in. "Everything ah… Everything alright, Mister Smith?" she ventured.
"Yeah yeah, fine," he said quickly, straightening and smiling at her cheerfully. "Just forgot what day it was, that's all."
"I wish!" she grinned. "Wouldn't hurt for it to be Monday, would it?"
"I'm sure it'll come round sooner or later," he said helpfully, nodding her a goodbye as he negotiated his way out of the shop with the four bags.
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He walked back to the TARDIS, deep in thought, until he reached the door and realised he couldn't get his key out.
"Sorry about this, old girl," he said grimly, before lifting a foot and booting at the bottom of the door slowly. "Mister Campbell! Make yourself useful!" he called.
He waited and then heard the door lock scratching and turning. The door swung open.
"Hoe much did yi get then?" Fergus asked, looking him up and down.
Four white plastic bags in one hand and a one litre jug of milk in the other was keeping the Time Lord from being able to help himself. Fergus took a bag and the milk from him and retreated inside.
"Apparently, I was here yesterday and got four then, too," he said, mystified. "I don't remember being here yesterday. Well, their yesterday. Not my yesterday. Obviously."
"Then Ah guess we'll huv tae wait an' see," Fergus said eagerly, walking round to the galley.
"The strangest thing just happened," the Doctor said as he watched Fergus unwrap one and inspect the fish. He smiled, walking over while licking his greasy fingers, picking up a fork from the sink drainer.
"Hoe dae yi mean, 'strange'?" he asked. "Everything's strange roond here."
"Good point," he said quietly, taking the milk and turning to the cavernous 1963 Westinghouse Centre Drawer fridge in the corner of the galley. He wrenched it open and put the milk in, closing it again. He paused to straighten the 'Scooby Doo likes clean teeth too!' magnet holding a Post-It note to the front.
Fergus walked back, stopping to hand him a fork, and then sat at the table, digging into his chips.
After a few moments he looked up to find the Doctor hadn't moved. He was still staring at Scooby Doo.
"Well?" he asked him. "Are yi gonnae eat those chips, or yi waiting fae me tae do it?"
"What? Oh. Yes," he said faintly, turning and walking to the table.
He sat and unwrapped one large newspaper bundle slowly. He found a fish in it and screwed up his face, wrapping it again and reaching for the other one. He unwrapped it and found a large battered sausage in it. He smiled and stuck his fork in a chip.
"Oh," he said suddenly, looking at Fergus.
"What? Forget the salt again?" he said, reaching for the tiny Harrods shakers on the wooden galley table.
"No – it's just that… Martha Jones eats fish." He paused. "I wonder whose the other one is."
"Martha's coming here?" Fergus asked, swallowing quickly. "Ah'll huv tae clear up."
"Don't be such a girl," the Doctor grinned maliciously, tucking into his chips.