An Earthly
Child
"Oh, Doctor, it's ever so smashing!" announced
Polly.
"Yeah, Doctor, what is it?" asked Ben.
"A Time-Space Visualizer," the Doctor replied wearily, pulling at his lapels. Humans were so amused by this thing.
"Well, can we use it?"
"Of course we can, my dear, of course we can," said the Doctor, patting the good-natured bimbo on the shoulder. He tapped it a couple of times and it whirred to life. "You two can watch it for a moment, and I'll be right there," said the Doctor. "I'm just going to have a look outside. I won't be long."
The humans were already clustered around the childish toy with glee. "Cor blimey!" shouted Ben, and Polly giggled. The Doctor moved down the corridor and toward the control room. They'd had a rather cursory inspection of mid-twenty-first century Earth, but it had been rather boring by the Doctor's standards, and they'd left early after Polly had done some shopping and Ben had unsuccessfully tried to pick up girls.
The Doctor opened the doors and was bathed in the cold, gleaming light of neon. He stood outside the TARDIS consulting his pocket watch, looking up at the solitary Earth moon, the prosaic constellations. He heard something in the darkness. "Who's there? Speak up, who's there?" shouted the Doctor.
"Grandfather! I thought it was you!" The Doctor was overwhelmed as Susan threw herself into his arms. He thought it was Susan; she was wearing refugee rags. Her hair was still short, but she was looking older. Much older.
"Susan! My dear child! What are you doing here?" The Doctor had taken her act of rebellion in its entirety and hadn't expected to ever see her again. "Won't you come into the TARDIS where I can see you better?"
She nodded, and they moved into the calm, roundel-pocked walls. In the light, the Doctor could see she was dirty and hunched and carrying something in her arms. "I thought I heard the TARDIS," she muttered.
"Goodness gracious," said the Doctor. "What's the matter with you?"
"It didn't work out between David and I," she said.
"Who?"
She rolled her eyes. "David, Grandfather. We were going to be freedom-fighters and restore the Earth after the Dalek invasion had failed."
"Oh yes, quite." The Doctor took out his handkerchief and mopped his brow. Susan had developed a somewhat awkward smell.
"I'm building my own TARDIS now, you see, and I just don't have time anymore for a child."
The Doctor's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
Susan thrust into his arms the bundle she had been carrying. The Doctor saw now that it was a humanoid child, very young, completely silent and wrapped in a flour sack. It also needed to be changed, the Doctor smelled.
"It's your great-grandchild!" Susan announced with a flourish.
"In a flour sack?!"
"I told you it's been difficult," muttered Susan. "Look, it wasn't easy for me growing up with you, but I've gotten over that. I'm leading my own life now, and I don't need the mistakes I made years ago to–"
The Doctor, barely remembering not to drop the child in his arms, sidled over to Susan and shouted, "Now see here! You can't just dump your responsibilities on–"
"Ha! Responsibilities!" Susan snapped, draping herself over the console. "What do you know about responsibilities?"
"I raised you, didn't I?"
"Then you've had a lot of practice!" With that, Susan released the lever and ran out the door. "Goodbye, Grandfather!" she shouted as she went. The doors closed behind her, and the Doctor couldn't run after her and hold onto the baby at the same time.
For a moment he just held the baby, who was still silent, and stood there, smelling the unmistakable scent of wet nappy. "She didn't even tell me the sex of the child." He began to lift the flour sack. The baby spit up in his face.
"Ben!" the Doctor screamed. The baby screamed, too, and began to wail. It shook its arms and spit up some more, this time on the Doctor's shirtfront. "Polly! GET ME SOME COFFEE!"