Author's notes: I'm informed that The Five(ish) Doctors Reboot was never made available outside the UK. So I should Explain. The Five(ish) Doctors Reboot was a 30 minute story, written by Peter Davison, in which he, Colin Baker and Sylvester McCoy play themselves resorting to desperate measures to get on to the 50th anniversary special. Essentially, this was a way for anyone who wanted to be in the 50th anniversary to get on screen without having to be written into Day Of The Doctor (and there were a surprisingly high number of people willing to cameo.)
Disclaimer: I'm not sure how to disclaim real person fics… Whatever I'm supposed to disclaim, I disclaim it!
The Five(ish) Doctors Reboot
"Wait a minute… I'm the bad guy in this!"
"Have you only just realised?" – Steven Moffatt and Peter Davison, watching the finished film.
Chapter 1: Waiting For The Call
It was Christmas day 2012 and Peter Davison had gathered with his sons to watch The Snowmen. They sat there watching Matt Smith and Jenna Louise Coleman being menaced by killer piles of snow. Peter was pleased to see that Joel had hidden behind the sofa.
"Very nice." He said, turning it off as the end credits came up.
"So, Doctor Who's been going on for 50 years now?" Said Louis.
"Yes. That's right." He nodded.
"Is there going to be an anniversary special next year, Dad?" Joel put his head above the sofa.
"Oh, I'm sure there will be."
"Yeah, but will you be in it?" Said Louis.
Peter smiled. Pleased to hear that the world would be glad to see him make a return. "I dunno. I'm sure they'll have more than one Doctor."
"So it could be just Matt Smith and David Tennant then?" Said Joel.
Peter was less pleased by that idea. "Well… I suppose it could be…"
"Great!" The boys both cheered and ran off. Evidently, they didn't care at all. Nonetheless, Peter determined himself to make them proud.
The old BBC Centre smelt the same as Peter made his way back there one bright and sunny day.
As he stepped into the shiny new entrance hall, he was met my Matt Smith, grinning broadly. "Peter! Peter, really, this is such a great honour. Thank you for coming, thank you so much!" He shook his hand enthusiastically.
As he moved into the corridors, he passed by Jenna Coleman, who said to him. "You were always my mum's favourite."
Wait, that wasn't right. He backed up. "You were always my favourite." She said. That was better.
He carried on, towards his meeting with Steven Moffatt, who was similarly pleased to see him. "I have dedicated the 50th anniversary script to you." The showrunner held up the script. On the front page were the words. "For Peter Davison, my Doctor."
From there it was straight on to make up, where three ladies ushered him into a chair in front of the mirror.
"Please sit down, Mr Davison."
"You haven't changed a bit."
"You're so wonderful."
"Bless you!"
A costume man stuck his head in the door. "I'll just put your costume in your Winnebago, Mr Davison."
"You're dreaming, Pete." Said a familiar voice. He turned to his right and saw Janet Fielding towering over him. "They're not gonna call you. They're not gonna call any of you. They don't want you, Pete! You need to wake up Pete. You need to walk the dog Pete. Pete… You need to walk the dog. Pete…"
"…Pete!" His wife called from downstairs. "You need to walk the dog!"
Peter groaned and pulled himself out of bed, trying not to think about the number of amateur psychologists and 5/Tegan shippers who would love to have seen that.
The dog was small, but deceptively strong. As usual, it spent its walk dragging Peter round his neighbourhood. Which was a particular problem today, as Peter was trying to make some phone calls at the same time. "No no, you don't understand, you're my agent! I'm just calling to see if they've rung about the 50th anniversary special!"
Sylvester McCoy straightened out his jacket, so that the taxi driver would be able to see the Hobbit t-shirt he was wearing. He was on his way to the airport, where he'd be flying back to New Zeeland. He'd left some voicemails with the BBC to let them know he was going now. So naturally, they'd be phoning him today, to avoid having to pay the extra bills.
He looked at his phone once more. You have no new messages.
Colin Baker sat at his kitchen table, reading an old Sixth Doctor magazine supplement (thankfully in black and white. He hated that coat as much as anybody.) He took another look at his phone. Still no new messages.
December turned to January. Sylvester was still listening intently for the phone, as he sat in his trailer, cutting a paperback of The Hobbit into three parts.
Back in Britain, Peter was listening to the radio as he drove to the hotel which was holding a minor convention.
"That was John Barrowman there with I Am What I Am, lovely stuff." Said the DJ. "Now talking of John Barrowman, it's the 50th anniversary of Doctor Who. And it's been announced today that there'll be a special on television for the 50th anniversary. Do you think they'll bring back all the old Doctors, like they used to do ? I hope they will. Er, who was your favourite Doctor. Mine was... probably Peter Cushing. Controversial decision but…"
Peter shut off the engine, and therefore the radio. Tired of waiting, he decided to try a different approach. He pulled out his phone and dialled.
Georgia Moffett/Tennant had just moved from the sofa to the kitchen table, which was surprisingly tiring in her heavily pregnant state. She looked at the phone as it started to ring and rolled her eyes. She muted the phone and got back to spooning ice cream into her mouth with a stick of celery.
Peter left a short message, before pulling on some dark glasses to avoid being recognised and making his way to the reception. "I'm here to check in."
"Can I take your name please?" Said the receptionist.
Peter lifted his glasses slightly, the way he'd seen Hollywood stars doing. The woman just looked at him blankly. "Peter Davison." He said at last.
"I'll just look up your booking."
"Do I have any messages?"
"No."
A few hours later, he was sat in a room, signing a small stack of photographs.
"You're my favourite you know." Said a girl in a Tom Baker shirt. Peter smiled and signed his name once more. "Mr Davison - are you going to be featured in the 50th anniversary sp..."
"Next!" Said Peter, reaching for his phone once more.
Niky's desk in the BBC production office was loaded with more Doctor Who memorabilia than a small sci-fi shop. Not that it ever increased her enthusiasm for the job. Nothing ever would. "BBC production office." She said into the phone.
"Yes, hi. My name is Peter Davison, I was, er, Doctor number five, actually, in the classic era, way back in the day. Still alive and kicking though, you know. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure that you have my mobile number, just in case... Steven, or... anybody wanted to get in touch. 50th anniversary special, and all that."
Niky rolled her eyes. "Didn't you call yesterday?"
"Well… yes, I…I may have called yesterday..."
"No, you did. Call yesterday. And the day before that. You wanted to make sure I had the right number for you. 50th anniversary special, and all that?"
"Look, I don't suppose Steven's there is he?"
She thought. At least it would get rid of him "Please hold."
In a windowless office with Do not disturb, very vital work going on written on the door, Steven heard his phone ringing. "Yes."
"I've got another one on the phone." Said Niky.
"Which one?"
"Number five, I think."
"Tell him I'm in a meeting and put him through to voicemail." He hung up the phone. "Now then. Where were we?" On the table he was in the midst of planning out the anniversary special by playing with his action figures and scribbling down what happened. In his mind, he was the divine god of the Whoniverse, decreeing how all things should be. And no classic series Doctors were going to tell him how to run it.
Just then he had a thought and picked the phone back up. "And make sure we are not disturbed for the rest of the day."
"We?" Said a baffled Niky.
Some time later, he decided to give Peter's message a listen. "... and then I could turn up with my celery antidote, and save Matt! And then it would..." Steven hit the button to delete the message.
Colin sat reading the copy of The Hobbit that Sylvester had sent him, whilst still listening intently for the phone.
Marion, his wife, stuck her head round the door. "Since all you've done for the last four weeks is stare at that telephone, do you think there's a chance you might come and help me down in the garden?"
"Which part of the garden?"
"Right down the bottom."
"Well, the thing is, you don't get much of a signal down at the bottom!"
Marion groaned. "Well, if thy call, surely they'll leave a message!"
"Alright." He sighed. "I'll be down in a minute."
After spotting Benedict Cumberbatch, a few minutes before, trying to convince Steven, over the phone that he really needed to know how Sherlock survived, Sylvester realised that Steven must be near his phone at this point. He waited for Benedict to ring off then phoned him.
Once again, he was put through to voicemail. "I just wanted to let Steven know that although I'm filming The Hobbit at the moment - it's a big blockbuster movie directed by Oscar-winning Peter Jackson - erm, I think I will be available to film the 50th anniversary... oh. Oh, right. And leave a voicemail. Oh. All right then. Yeah. Hi, Steven? It's Sylvester here. I'm filming The Hobbit at the moment, with Peter Jackson..."
Colin, as it turned out, was little interested in gardening. He ignored the looks of irritation from his wife as he climbed on top of the wheelbarrow to make another call. "This is Colin Baker speaking. The sixth Doctor Who? Could you put me through to... what do you mean, "Oh no, not another one"?"
Christopher Eccleston's wife heard the phone ring and picked it up. "Hello… Hello again Steven… No, I'm afraid… I'm sorry but he did ask me to use these exact words. He says "I'm not interested in Doctor bloody Who. I've got better things to do. Now piss off."… All the best. Bye."
From the next room, she heard a steady thump, where Chris was throwing darts at a picture of Tom Higgleston, muttering "I was supposed to be the main villain."
Some time later, Steven listened to his overly crowded voicemail as he was driven home. "... meets the Hobbit, and I could be in it twice!..." Sylvester was saying.
Steven hit a button "Message deleted."
"Steven! Er, Colin here! How about this? The TARDIS materialises in the jungle! Exactly where I'm filming I'm a Celebri..."
He hit the delete button again. "Doctors deleted." Said a Cyberman voice. "You have no more messages."
That was odd, he didn't remember uploading that.
Peter returned home looking gutted. He decided to break the news gently to the boys, who were playing one of The Adventure Games. "Boys. Can I talk to you for a moment? I'm afraid I have some very bad news. It seems there's a very real possibility that - I won't be in the 50th anniversary special. I know it's a mistake, but... somehow I..."
The boys returned to their game, completely unphased.
"Right. OK." He got up, suddenly determined once more.
Steven got very little sleep of late. He was bombarded night and day by hordes of Doctor Who stars who wanted to be in the anniversary special. Why couldn't they just bugger off and make some sort of short film as a tribute of their own? Perhaps even make a story out of their attempts to get on the programme.
Not only were they ringing him all day, but their floaty heads wre haunting his dreams, flying round his head, fifth Doctor's regeneration style.
"…the kids already know me from Death of the Doctor, Steven…" Said Katy Manning.
"I've always wanted to meet the Dalkes on screen, Steven…" Said Louise Jameson.
"Why won't you show tribute to his roots, Steven?" Said Carole Ann Ford.
"Russell would have put me in it, Steven." Said Sophie Aldred.
"Please Steven." Said Deborah Watling, her voice joining the ever growing babble.
"Steven…" Said Sarah Sutton.
"Steven…" Said Anneke Wills.
"Steven…" Said K9.
"Steven…" Said Lisa Bowerman.
Just then, Mathew Waterhouse's head flashed up larger than the others. "It's me isn't it?"
Steven woke with a start. In his head, he could still hear Mathew's fading voice singing "Now I'll never know if I was right…"
January turned into February. February decided to give March a miss and skip on to April. Still no call came.
There was a larger convention taking place in London at the start of the month. Large enough for Doctors 5-8 to be in attendance.
This had been an opportunity for them to put their heads together and agree that if they were to convince the BBC, they'd need to do it together.
At least three of them had. Paul McGann was sat to one side of the hospitality suite, looking through some papers.
"What do you think he's doing?" Said Sylvester.
"Reading a script. Well, he's always reading scripts. And filming. Always filming." Said Colin.
"It's probably for TV." Said Sylvester. "I mean, who wants to do TV? It's not like it's a motion picture."
"Oh, shut up!"
At this point, Peter returned from the hallway, where he'd been making some phone calls. "OK, I've had a call from my contact, I know the filming dates and I've got a plan."
"Your contact? Who is this contact?" Said Colin.
"I've picked up a few contacts over the years." He said offhand.
"Oh, I've picked up quite a few contacts while filming The Hobbit." Said Sylvester, as the other two gave him a look of disdain.
"Anyway, my contact…"
"This contact wouldn't have a Scottish accent and be married to your daughter, would he?"
"I can't reveal that." Peter said awkwardly.
From across the room, they heard Paul speak up, he got on the phone to his agent. "Well, that's perfect, because it fits in with the other one. Yeah, excellent, excellent. Listen, by the way, er - not that I care at all, but, you haven't heard from the BBC about that Doctor Who special, have you? Nothing at all. No no no, it's OK. No, no, that's fine. Well, I'll speak to you soon. Yeah. Bye bye." Paul swore as he put the phone down.
"Do you think we should call Tom?" Said Sylvester.
"Tom?" Said Colin, alarmed.
"Why?" Said Peter.
"Well, solidarity. He may want to join the team.
"Tom?" Colin said again.
"Yes, I suppose we should." Said Peter.
Thy all looked at the phone with a sense of dread.
"Well, call him then." Said Sylvester.
"No, it was your idea. You call him!" Said Peter.
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Said Colin. "I've eaten possum's anus on live television. Can't be worse than that. I'll call him."
Tom Baker wasn't sure how he'd ended up in 1970s Cambridge, punting down the Cam. This sort of situation hadn't happened since he'd been off the booze. Plus, they'd banned him from punting here after that time he'd tried it in the nude (as he'd been happy to tell everyone on Little Britain).
He heard his phone ringing and fumbled around for it, while simultaneously trying to hold on to the pole. He was so distracted by it that he failed to notice the huge glassy iceberg floating out of the sky to kidnap him.
Doctors 5-7 listened to Tom Baker's voice on the voicemail. "Greetings, greetings, greetings. Well, I seem to be stuck in the sodding time vortex. Again! So I can't assist you. Just one of the many regrets of my life. Goodbye, my dears!"
"He's been in the pub again." Muttered Sylvester.
As they switched the phone off, they looked up to see Paul standing over them. "Whatever it is you're planning, I'm in. Work permitting, obviously."
As they made to leave, Sylvester had concerns of his own. "I'd like to get more involved, but tomorrow I'm flying to New Zealand. More filming on The Hobbit."
Colin rolled his eyes once more. "Are you in The Hobbit? I never would have guessed!"
"When are you back?" Said Peter.
"Oh, I don't know, sometimes I sit days and days in my trailer."
"Oh, get your priorities right, Sylvester, this is not some flash in the pan five million dollar picture! This is important!" He stormed off. Jemma Churchill, who happened to be walking by in full Bavarian dress, ran after him.
"I'd better be off home." Said Colin. "I'm expecting a special delivery!"
As they heard Colin coming in, Marion looked at her daughters in alarm. "The package!"
"Did you hide it?" Said one of them.
"No, I didn't think."
"Maybe he won't notice it!"
"He'll notice it."
"Ohhhh yes!" Colin came into the living room, clutching a wadge of Amazon packaging and a Vengeance On Varos DVD.
"Told you."
"One of my best." Colin beamed. "You will love it! Many say it's a classic!" He went over and put it in the player. "Bought, of course, to replace the one that strangely went missing. Great news, though! This one has extra features! Even more of me!"
He stepped back and sat down on the, now empty, sofa. Behind him, he heard a scraping, where his family were desperately clawing to get out. "You're wasting your time. I've locked all the doors."
