Teaser from last episode (Silver & Gold)
The Doctor leaned back against the TARDIS console, arms folded, smiling with delight at seeing his old friends on board again.
"So," he said. "Where do you want to go?"
Harry had been walking around the console room, gawping at its new look, but turned to Sarah when he heard the Doctor's question. "Sarah?"
"Oh," she said, grinning like a child. "I've always wanted to know how the pyramids were built. Can we go watch that?"
The Doctor's face fell. "I can tell you that," he said. "We don't have to watch it. Do you know how long it took?"
"How about Pompeii?" Harry suggested.
"Harry! Do you have a death wish?" Sarah asked.
"I wasn't suggesting we go in August of 79, necessarily," Harry answered.
"Shakespeare," Sarah said, eyes glowing. "Could we go watch a Shakespeare play in the Globe? And maybe meet the Bard himself?"
"Now who has a death wish?" Harry asked. "You want to catch bubonic plague?"
"Oh, I'm sure the Doctor wouldn't let that happen," she said, glancing over at him.
He pursed his lips and shook his head.
"Lincoln!" Harry said. "Let's go meet Abraham Lincoln! I've always wondered what he sounded like. Can we go to one of his debates with Stephen Douglas?"
"I'd rather meet John Wilkes Booth," said Sarah. Harry turned shocked eyes on her. "Well, wouldn't you like to know why he did it?"
"I'd rather stop him from doing it," he said. "But I don't think the Doctor would let me." The Doctor shook his head to confirm that suspicion. Harry thought for a second.. "I know--let's go watch the 2012 Olympics! I'm tired of waiting for them!"
"Can't do that," said the Doctor.
"Why not?"
"Already been. Lit the torch." The Doctor smiled. "You'll see. But I can't go back--can't cross my own timeline. Could take you to the 3012 Olympics if you'd like. I haven't seen those yet."
Harry and Sarah looked at each other, wide-eyed. "We've only been thinking about the past, Sarah Jane," Harry said. "There's all of the future and the whole universe to choose from!"
The Doctor gave a small sigh, turned to the console, twiddled some dials and flipped a few switches. The TARDIS started to wheeze as its central column began to rise and fall.
"Doctor?" Sarah asked.
He turned to look at them. "Well, until you two make up your minds, I thought I'd go visit an old friend. You just let me know when you come to a decision." He hurried around to the far side of the console, whacked a button, raced back and rammed a lever home. "Hang on!"
The TARDIS lurched, and Sarah and Harry grabbed the first thing that came to hand that seemed well anchored. They looked at each other with sheer delight as the wheezing grew louder and the central column flashed. "We're off!" Harry said.
"And who knows where we'll land!" Sarah cried happily.
**************
And now.....the next episode begins.
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The TARDIS doors opened and the Doctor stepped out. He stopped in his tracks, sniffing the air and scowling. Harry and Sarah Jane squeezed past him, then also came to an abrupt halt. They looked out over a desertscape that stretched for miles in front of the TARDIS. Snow-capped mountains appeared in the distance. The sun broiled in a cloudless sky.
"Wow," Harry said, awed. "This has got to be an alien planet. Who's your friend we're visiting? Yoda? A Denebian Slime Devil?"
The Doctor didn't answer, just bent down, picked up a small rock, sniffed it, then licked it. His eyebrows were still furrowed in a slight concerned frown.
"No," Sarah chimed in. "It's probably earth in the far future. After global warming." She thought a second and frowned. "Maybe the near future. This could be New Zealand. And the friend we're visiting is some brilliant scientist who's trying to reverse the effects and the Doctor's here to help him."
The Doctor still didn't respond. He picked a small, thick, rubbery leaf off a scrubby, heat-blasted tree that stood near the TARDIS and gave it a sniff and a lick. He wrinkled his nose at the taste and tossed the leaf to the ground. His eyes flicked from side to side under still-worried brows.
"Doctor?" Sarah said.
"Hmm?" he finally answered, distractedly.
"Where are we?" Sarah asked.
"And when?" Harry added.
He looked up at them and blinked, as if he were just remembering they were there. "Oh. Southern California. 1963."
Two dogs appeared around the edge of the TARDIS and trotted up to Harry. He knelt and offered the back of his hand for them to sniff, then ruffled their ears when their tails started wagging. A third dog followed a second later, ran up to Sarah, gave her a sniff, then backed off and yapped at her.
"And here's my friend," said the Doctor, a huge happy grin erasing the scowl from his face.
A bald, elderly man, not much taller than Sarah, appeared around the corner of the TARDIS. His green eyes sparkled with delight and he wore a cherubic grin. "Doctor!"
They hugged each other with enthusiasm. After a moment, the old man stepped back and looked searchingly at the Doctor, then reached up with both hands and took a big pinch of each of his cheeks and shook them gently. "Not another new face already. Oy!" His voice was a resonant baritone, and he spoke with a strong New York accent. "And so tall this time. I liked it when you were my size!"
"Yeah, well," the Doctor said, with some difficulty as his cheeks were being shaken. "You know me. Always changing."
"And you've brought some new friends to visit," the little man said, letting go of the Doctor's cheeks with a final gentle pat on each one and turning to beam at Sarah and Harry.
"Yes, this is Sarah Jane, and this is Harry," the Doctor said, indicating his friends. "And this is my friend Arthur," he said to them.
They stepped forward and shook hands. "Pleased to meet you, pleased to meet you," Arthur said, although it sounded more like "Please ta meetcha." "I see you've already met my pals," he added, nodding at the dogs. "That's Roy," he said, indicating a long-legged, short-coated black and tan mutt. "And that's Tex," he said, nodding at the tricolor hound mix with the droopy ears. "And that's Gabby. Guess you can see how she got her name." Gabby was the little short-legged furball who had been yapping at them all in turn since she had come around the corner of the TARDIS and found strangers on her turf.
"Well, come on up to the house," Arthur said, turning and walking around the TARDIS back the way he and the dogs had come. "We can have drinks and you can tell me about your travels."
They followed him and saw, as they rounded the corner of the TARDIS, a big, beautiful house. The wall that faced the desert was nearly all glass and rose to almost two stories in height at its peak. The figure-eight shaped swimming pool that lay in front of the house reflected in the glass, creating the feel of a cool oasis in the midst of the desert starkness.
"Alien planet," Sarah said softly as they followed behind the Doctor and Arthur. She rolled her eyes at Harry, then grinned..
"Global warming," he shot back, also grinning.
Ahead of them, Arthur and the Doctor were walking, arms linked, the three dogs shepherding them toward the house. Arthur looked up at the Doctor, squinting his eyes against the bright sun. "You been burning the candle at both ends again?" he asked.
"Is it that obvious?" the Doctor asked with a wry smile.
"Unless this face just naturally looks tired," he said.
"Been through a bit of a time lately," the Doctor admitted.
Arthur patted his arm affectionately. "We'll get you fixed up."
"Do you mind?" the Doctor asked.
Arthur gave him an incredulous look. "Mind? It's what I do!"
They entered the house and Arthur led them to the room that was on the other side of the glass wall they had seen from outside. The view was spectacular, and Sarah and Harry just gazed at it in awe for a moment.
"Left or right?" Arthur asked the Doctor. Sarah turned away from the windows to look at him. He was holding a long cushion and looking at the Doctor expectantly.
"Oh right I think," the Doctor said.
"You are tired," Arthur said, and lay the cushion down on the floor next to a large harp. The Doctor started to lie down on the cushion, but before he could, a gasp from Sarah Jane stopped him.
"Oh. My. God," she said, her jaw dropping. She clapped both hands over her mouth and her eyes grew huge as she stared at Arthur.
"Sarah? What's wrong?" Harry asked, concerned.
She turned stunned eyes on him for a second, then swivelled back to face Arthur and the Doctor. Arthur returned her look with raised eyebrows and a bemused expression. A grin spread across the Doctor's face. "Arthur. Oh my God. I knew I knew you. Your face was so familiar. But I couldn't place it. Until I saw the harp. Oh my God," she said again.
"What? Sarah!" Harry was starting to sound more impatient than concerned.
"Arthur. Marx, Harry. Arthur Marx," she said, turning to look at him again. Harry shook his head and shrugged one shoulder. She looked at Arthur again. "Harpo," she breathed in a reverent whisper.
"Harpo? Marx?" Harry said, looking at Arthur again.
"Guilty," the little man said. "Although it's been awhile since anyone called me that." He turned to the Doctor. "You brought me some harp fans?"
"Fans!" Sarah said. "You have no idea! Why, you're...you're...you're...a legend! Bigger than the Beatles!"
"Bigger than the Beatles?" Harpo repeated. He looked quizzically at the Doctor. "Is that a British expression?"
The Doctor shook his head. "It's just a bit early. Watch Ed Sullivan next February. You'll see. Trust me. It's a compliment." He grinned at Sarah Jane. "Bigger than Elvis might have worked better at the moment."
"Oh, way bigger than Elvis," she agreed.
"Well!" Harpo grinned, and swivelled his hips. "Thank you. Thank you very much," he said, parodying The King. He dropped back into his native New York accent. "Always nice to meet a fan. Let me get our friend played right here," he said, nodding toward the Doctor, "and then we can talk about harps all you want."
The Doctor started to lie down on the cushion again, then looked at Sarah and grinned. "Breathe, Sarah," he said. She did, and he stretched his lanky body out on the floor by the right side of the harp.
"Make yourselves comfortable," Harpo suggested to Harry and Sarah as he settled himself behind the harp. "This might take awhile."
Sarah sank into an armchair, and Harry stepped over to the couch and half-sat, half-sprawled on it. Harpo plucked a few strings, made some adjustments to the instrument, plucked them again. Apparently satisfied, he started to play.
Etherial chords echoed through the room, and Sarah had to remind herself to breathe again as she realized she was witnessing a private concert by Harpo Marx in his own home, El Rancho Harpo. It was one place she had always wanted to see, if she had ever managed a visit to the United States, but she never in her wildest dreams could have imagined this scene.
The music soared and rippled, flowed and danced, and suddenly Sarah's eyes widened even further. She looked over at Harry, and was greeted with the same astonished expression she could feel on her own face.
The Doctor was floating.
With each glorious arpeggio and glissando, he rose further off the ground. His eyes were closed, his body relaxed. He breathed deeply, in time with the music.
Harpo's eyes were closed, and his fingers stroked the strings of the harp like a lover. His cherubic grin never left his face. He opened his eyes once to glance at the Doctor, floating three feet off the ground beside the harp, but no surprise showed on his features. He just closed his eyes again and played on.
Sarah never knew how long Harpo played. Time stood still for her. But finally, the music slowed, softened, and the Doctor floated gently down to rest on the cushion. A silence of deep peace hung in the room for a long moment after the last echoes of the last chord died away. Then the Doctor and Harpo both opened their eyes. The Doctor took a deep breath and smiled up at his friend. "Thank you," he said.
He popped up to his feet in one smooth motion, as Harpo rose from behind the harp after setting it on its base. "Glad I could help," said Harpo. "Now. How about those drinks?"
He led them to the kitchen, where he invited them to sit and opened the refrigerator door. "What's your poison?" he asked. "Iced tea? Coke? Seven-up?" He turned to look at them. "Or could I interest you in something a little stronger?"
Sarah Jane and the Doctor gratefully accepted iced teas, while Harry opted for something stronger. Once his guests had refreshments, Harpo poured himself a glass of iced tea and sat down at the table with them. "Ah, so that's what that new face is supposed to look like," he said, grinning at the Doctor. "Much better."
Sarah had to agree. The Doctor looked as if he had been given back at least five of the ten years he'd lost in teleporting himself across the universe and jump-starting the moribund TARDIS.
"You do look wonderful," she said. "You're practically glowing. Guess the real thing is more potent than the DVD."
"DVD?" asked Harpo, looking confused.
"A sort of recording device," the Doctor explained. "Very popular in the time period we just came from."
"I played him your number from Night at the Opera when he said your music would help him heal," Sarah elaborated.
Harpo looked more confused still. "Night at the Opera?"
Sarah blinked at him. "Yes. Night at the Opera." He looked at her blankly, shook his head. "Your movie."
Harpo looked at the Doctor, his eyebrows asking for an explanation.
"1935? Your first movie for MGM?" Sarah said. Harpo just looked more and more confused. "The stateroom scene? It's a classic! You played Tomasso, Chico was Fiorello, and Groucho was Otis B. Driftwood?"
Harpo's confusion now turned to consternation. For the first time since they had met, he wasn't smiling.
"What is it, Arthur?" the Doctor asked softly.
"I was never in a movie called Night at the Opera. The last movie I made with my brothers was called Monkey Business."
All four of them exchanged concerned glances. "But Monkey Business was only your third movie," Harry said.
"Right, we only made three," said Harpo.
"No, no," said Sarah. "You made lots more. Horse Feathers was next after Monkey Business, and then..."
Harpo interrupted. "How do you even know about Horse Feathers?" he asked.
Sarah and Harry stared at each other, then turned to face him. "We've seen it," Harry said.
"Dozens of times!" Sarah added. "It's one of my favorites!"
Harpo shook his head. "We never finished that movie. We had only started filming when Groucho... Well. We couldn't make it without him. The project was scrapped."
The Doctor, Harry and Sarah exchanged horrified glances.
"When Groucho what?" The Doctor was the only one with the courage to ask.
Harpo looked around the table, meeting their eyes in turn. "When he died. My brother Julius--Groucho--died in 1931."
They all sat in stunned silence for a moment. Sarah was the first to break it.
"No, he didn't," she said, shaking her head and looking at Harpo earnestly.
Harry backed her up. "No," he agreed. "He didn't."
Harpo looked from Sarah to Harry and then turned to the Doctor with the air of one appealing to a higher authority. The Doctor just compressed his lips and shook his head.
"He outlived you," Sarah added plaintively.
The Doctor audibly sucked air through his teeth. "Sarah," he said, in a reproving tone.
She looked at him, startled, then realized the implications of what she had said. "Oh. Sorry."
Harpo shook his head. "That's okay. I'd just as soon not know exactly when I'm going to die, but I don't kid myself it's not going to happen." He managed a crooked grin, then sobered. "Groucho should have outlived me--he was younger than me. He certainly shouldn't have died at forty-one."
"He didn't!" Sarah cried. Then she took a deep breath and looked pleadingly at the Doctor.
"I knew there was something wrong," he said softly, as if speaking to himself. "As soon as I stepped out of the TARDIS. I just couldn't put my finger on it." He looked up at Harpo. "And then there you were and everything seemed fine." He suddenly scowled. "Where's Susan?"
"Playing golf with the girls," Harpo said.
"And the children?"
Harpo frowned. "They're all grown up and on their own. You know that."
"Tell me their names," the Doctor said.
Harpo blinked at him. "Doctor, you know their names."
"Tell me anyway," the Doctor said, more gently this time.
"Bill, Alex, Jimmy and Minnie."
The Doctor blew out a relieved breath. "Good."
Harpo looked at him intently, then gave Harry and Sarah the same scrutiny. "So," he said after a long moment. "I have more than thirty years of memories telling me my brother is dead. And I have the three of you saying he isn't." His mouth curled in a lopsided grin. "Why do I want to believe you?"
The Doctor leaned forward, folded his arms on the table. "Tell us what happened, Arthur. To Groucho. How he died." His eyes never left Harpo's. "If it isn't too painful," he added gently.
Harpo laughed softly. "After all these years? I ought to be able to talk about it." The look in his eyes belied his words.
The Doctor's dark eyes absorbed and reflected his sorrow. "You never get over losing someone you love," he said softly. "You just get through it."
Harpo looked at him and nodded. Then his eyes lost focus as he reached back into his memory. "Groucho always was a worrier. Especially about money. The crash hit him hard." He looked at Sarah and Harry and smiled. "You know about the crash?"
They both looked puzzled for a moment. Sarah started to shake her head, but Harry's eyes suddenly brightened. "You mean the stock market crash? 1929?"
Harpo nodded. "That's the one. We all lost buckets of money--pretty much everything we'd earned. And then some. Went from high rollers to penny pinchers in one week's time." He smiled. "Me? I'm easy-come-easy-go. I've got my health, I'll earn some more. But Groucho..." He shook his head sadly. "He started having problems sleeping after that. Didn't help that we'd lost Mutti just the month before. Double whammy. Groucho was never the same." He sat in silence, fiddling idly with his iced tea glass.
"You said he died in 1931?" the Doctor finally said, nudging him out of his reverie.
Harpo took a deep breath and continued. "They called it an accident. Too many sleeping pills. Washed down with bathtub gin."
Harry winced. "Bad combination."
"You betcha," Harpo agreed.
"Did they have barbiturates back then?" Sarah asked Harry.
He nodded. "And they didn't realize how dangerous it was to mix them with alcohol until the sixties." He remembered where they were in time and added, "Just about now."
"You think it was an accident?" the Doctor asked Harpo.
Harpo went back to fiddling with his glass, staring at it rather than meeting the Doctor's eyes. "I wish I knew," he finally answered. He looked up at the Doctor. "Wondering just makes it harder."
They all sat quietly, images of Groucho filling their minds. "Doctor," Sarah asked after a moment. "What's going on? Is this a parallel universe?"
The Doctor gazed around the room and took a couple of deep sniffs. He looked across the table at Harpo and held out a long arm to him. Harpo reached across and put his hand in the Doctor's. The Doctor's eyes went out of focus as his thumb gently rubbed the skin of Harpo's hand. "No," he finally said. "Not yet, anyway."
Sarah's eyes widened. "Not yet?" she asked.
"Right." He let go of Harpo's hand, leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "Could become one, if the time slip's big enough and if the Time Lords don't think it's important enough to set right."
"The Time Lords?" Harry said. "Thought they were gone."
"Not in 1963, earth-time," he said. He looked wistfully up toward the ceiling. "They're still up there, doing what they do."
Sarah's voice softened. "You can't...?"
He looked at her with sad eyes. "Visit them? Warn them?" He shook his head. "No. Tried." He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. "Thousands of times." He opened his eyes and Sarah saw the familiar pain in them, but pain mixed with acceptance this time, not anger, not guilt. She felt a deep gratitude that he'd begun to heal.
"Sorry, Arthur," the Doctor said, smiling at his old friend. "Long story, nothing to do with you."
Harpo nodded his understanding.
"So, Doctor," Harry said. "Let me see if I've got this straight so far. Time has slipped. Whatever that means. And this happens often enough that it's part of the TIme Lords' job to fix it. But they haven't. Why?"
"Well," the Doctor said, drawing the word out. "If the slip is small enough and on a backwater planet..." He winced. "Sorry, sorry, I meant an unimportant planet..." He sucked air through his teeth and grimaced. "Sorry, that's no better, is it..."
"We get the picture, Doctor," said Harry. "Go on."
"They only fix significant time slips," the Doctor said. "Ones big enough to make a difference in universal history."
"Losing Groucho isn't significant?" Sarah asked in disbelief.
The Doctor looked at her with a fond smile. "It is to us," he said, including them all in the smile. "But no, as much as I hate to say it, on a galactic scale...no. One human being more or less..." He put up a hand to fend off their protests. "Even as brilliant a human as Julius Henry Marx really doesn't cause even a blip in galactic history." He shook his head sadly. "The Time Lords must have decided it wasn't worth fixing or the time slip wouldn't have gone on this long already."
The air of gloom around the table was palpable. Sarah, Harry and Harpo all sat forlornly, heads down, faces glum.
"Good thing you have your own personal Time Lord who's a friend of the family," the Doctor said quietly. Sarah's head snapped up and she stared at him. His eyes were sparkling with mischief and his grin was incandescent.