Doctor Who: Second Song

Chapter One: Silent Waltz

Once again, it was very quiet in the TARDIS, save for the old girl's normal running noises. The Doctor ran a hand over one of the new control panels and smiled briefly. She'd changed for him, over the years. Made herself look absolutely gorgeous... well, she always was to him. There was a deep love there, something that no-one could come between. He chuckled. He'd run away with her; took off for the stars and never looked back – and hadn't they seen some adventures together?

Companions came and went, but she'd always be there for him to come home to.

He looked at his watch. Amy and Rory would be on the second day of their honeymoon, right where he had dropped them off in 19th century Paris. Perfect time to be a young couple in love... providing Amy couldn't sing and Rory didn't try and pass himself off as a Viscount. The Doctor shivered. No need to go aggravating him again, it had been bad enough when he'd had to drop the old boy off in London a century or so later. Who knew he'd make a musical about his own life?

He was still getting used to being himself. His tenth body had been incredibly fun – so much so that he didn't want to let it go. But not even a Time Lord could absorb that much radiation and keep an incarnation. Besides, a part of that man still lived and was loved by Rose. That was more than he could have ever hoped for. Besides, body number eleven was young and lean with floppy hair and a rather well-shaped jaw. His eyes had lost a lot of their intensity, but that happened when you switched personality... and lost around a decade of body age. Damn good for football, though.

The centre of the console hummed at a slightly higher pitch than normal, catching his attention. Striding over to the scanner, the Doctor peered at the reading. He cocked his head to the side and looked up at the TARDIS roof.

"Are you sure that's right? I mean, that's not possible at that level... it really can't..." the Doctor began, but trailed off as he watched the rolling pattern on the screen. What puzzled him the most was that the reading should have been audible sound – but all he heard was silence.

Madison Square Gardens. Madison frickin' Square Gardens!

The outside was plastered with massive posters of her face. Well, it would be her face, if they took off the thirty layers of photo-shopping, bucket of makeup and those ridiculous hair extensions. She knew they were a bad idea, but the stylist had been so sure.

But it was amazing how she'd managed to get so far so fast. Alania Cypher was pop music's hottest commodity and even she wasn't sure how it had all started. One minute she was singing in dead-end diners, the next... Madison Square Gardens. Michael Buble had performed there, for heaven's sake!

Damn.

The doors opened and a squat man hurried down the stairs, a worried look on his face. Upon laying eyes on Alania, he visibly relaxed, but his eyes remained stern. "Alania, you're supposed to be..."

"I know where I'm supposed to be, Robin," Alania spat bitterly, angry at her agent's intrusion on her peace and quiet. The man was everywhere... ever since he'd heard her sing at that grubby pub in the middle of nowhere, when his eyes – those eerie, ice-blue eyes – had lit up and he'd had her sign a contract there and then. Who was she to complain? Singing had barely covered food and rent and now... now it paid for a multi-million dollar apartment on the edge of Central Park. Robin had organised the Playlist tour himself – sold-out concerts in four continents! She shook her head and grinned apologetically. "Sorry, it's not your fault. I'm just a little exhausted from the preparation."

"What? Are you in good health? Are you certain you'll be in condition to perform?" The words tumbled over one another, fighting to get out quickly. Alania had found that odd at first, but after the last five years... well, she'd accepted it as one of Robin's quirks.

"I'm fine, really. Just needed a little time-out. I mean, look at that -" she gestured to the simply enormous posters - "that right there is proof that insane things happen everyday."

"Insane or not, you really can't afford to be out here too long. The press conference is in an hour."

"Another one? Seriously, this is getting out of control..." Alania began to admonish, but Robin lifted a pudgy hand.

"I won't hear it. This tour needs to be properly covered. Playlist has stiff competition..."

"What, you mean after it broke Thriller's record? I don't think that we have much of a problem there."

"This is not the time to argue." Robin's voice took on a sharp, cold edge – the kind Alania found herself fearing without any rationality behind it. "You must be there. You must answer the questions. I haven't worked this hard for this long to get you here to watch everything fall apart!"

Alania frowned. "Steady on, old boy... this is the tour we're talking about, isn't it?"

The darkness flashed over the squat little man's face and disappeared. A dazzling smile replaced it as he took her hand and patted it sympathetically. "I think you aren't the only one the pressure is getting to, my dear. Of course it is. I know you won't let me down."

The TARDIS screeched as the Doctor hammered a panel with his rubber mallet. "Steady, girl, steady," he soothed. He readjusted date of landing; Earth, 2020, June 16th. Careful hands and nimble fingers tuned the locater that was tracking the radio transmission that was drawing him in. The Doctor's thoughts flickered back to Amy and Rory. Surely they won't mind missing out on this one adventure? Yes. Should be fine. Just a quick trip to find out what was going on. He'd be back in ten days, like he promised. Yep. Definitely okay. No need to mention this at all. A trifling situation...

Suddenly, the music blasted from every direction.

The Doctor dropped the mallet he had been balancing and slammed both hands over his ears. "Ow! What on..." he stumbled around the console, pulling a hand away from his head to yank on a volume control. The music lowered and his head registered the sound at a more agreeable level. It was a woman singing; the usual pop music typical of the twenty-first century. It was catchy, but not particularly inventive. The Doctor bopped his head along to the beat as he looked at the sound wave patterns.

"Now that is odd," he whispered to himself. He patched the song through the TARDIS' database and retrieved... nothing. He listened to the song finish, then caught the announcer's comments.

"... and that was the latest hit single from Alania Cypher's smash album, Playlist. Remember folks, in half an hour we'll be crossing live to Cypher's press conference the day before she kicks off her Playlist tour in America, starting with a sold-out debut performance at Madison Square Gardens."

"Brilliant, now I've got the where," the Doctor beamed, punching in the coordinates and grabbing the railing as the TARDIS pitched forward in the Time Vortex. The machine rattled violently for a moment, then steadied itself as it found the time period in question and commenced rematerialisation.

The hottest pop star in the world was currently hiding in her dressing room, swallowing pear drops whole and staring at herself in the large, unforgiving mirror. Minutes to go and she was deep in displacement activity. Great. Any minute now, Alania thought desperately, any minute now and Robin will be through that door and I won't be ready. I haven't been ready for any of this. I've just smiled and waved and sang and... oh God...

Right on cue, Robin burst through the door and snatched the white paper bag from her hands. "Those sweets will be the death of you one day, I swear it! I suppose you've been swallowing them whole again?"

Alania poked her tongue out. "This is stupid. I don't want to do this."

"Then you shouldn't have chosen singing as a career. This is what fame and fortune is – being at someone else's beck and call so you can afford that fancy apartment you love so much."

"Point taken. I suppose everyone is waiting for me and I'm already late?"

"Everyone is waiting and you are already late."

"Just fab. Let me brush my hair and I'll be right there."

"I'm staying right here. Don't get any ideas about that second packet of pear drops I know you keep hidden away in the third drawer. Your stylist told me about them. Now come on."

Grumbling, Alania grabbed the brush from the dresser and dragged it through her slightly matted, dirty blonde hair and appraised the glum woman looking out of the mirror at her. It was all wrong, somehow. The music, the mass hysteria, the fame... where did it come from? Why couldn't she remember?

"Let's go," she whispered.

Somewhere in the backstage area of the area – where the broken lighting equipment was currently being stored for repairs – the whooshing that signalled the TARDIS landing echoed loudly. Upon full materialisation, the Doctor poked his head outside of the doors and took a cautious step out, managing to fall headlong over an obtrusive lamp. Gathering himself up and returning to an upright position, the Doctor peered around in the darkness and pulled out his sonic screwdriver. The green glow and low hum led the way as he followed the intriguing readings as he wound his way through the labyrinthine corridors. Soon, he didn't need the sonic. The voice of a young woman filtered into the halls; slightly muffled, but easily recognisable.

"... happy to take your questions now."

"Miss Cypher!"

"Alania!"

"Over here!"

The overwhelming, blinding invasiveness of the camera flashes managed to penetrate the dark corridor through cracks in the walls. The Doctor pressed himself against the flimsy barrier, craning to hear more.

"... tour will be the biggest ever staged. My agent informs me that the American debut will be streamed to every continent with reception. This concert goes live around the world so that everyone can enjoy the music."

Popstars, the Doctor mused, almost in disgust. Just have to one-up each other, can't let records be.

"Miss Cypher, your album has been a bigger hit than anyone could have ever expected, especially from a debut artist. Can you explain the vast popularity you have enjoyed?"

One eye squished against a crack in the wall, the Doctor noticed this question came from a bald-headed fat man sitting in a crowded row of chairs and people, a dictaphone in one hand held high. The Time Lord couldn't see the girl responding to the question – a speaker in the way was blocking his view, but he heard the reply. "I... can't explain it. How do you explain the appreciation of art? What is art? People have debated that question for years and haven't been able to come up with an appropriate answer. All I can say is that there must be something in the music that people are responding to, that connects with them and how they think and what they feel. Beyond that, I can't give you an answer, but I can say this – if the album's popularity is anything to go by, this concert tomorrow night will be an event not to be missed."

As the smattering of applause arose, the Doctor narrowed his eyes, stepping away from the wall and heading back to the TARDIS. Yes, he thought, his hands shoved into the pockets of his tweed jacket. I daresay this will be an event not to be missed.

Author's notes:

I'm not affiliated with the BBC. Or Doctor Who. I'd like to be affiliated with Matt Smith and/or David Tennant, but I'm not. I'm planning more of this, but right now I'm reading One Promise from the 2010 Alice in Wonderland section. It's seriously cool.