Disclaimer: Doctor Who, Rose, Mickey, Sarah Jane Smith, the TARDIS and associated shenanigans don't belong to me. Of course, I STILL wish David Tennant belonged to me, but he doesn't, he belongs to himself. Be that as it may, no infringement of copyright intended. This is fun, not a money making venture.

Three's Company

Being an account of events between the end of 'School Reunion' and 'The Girl in the Fireplace'

With thanks to Youth of Australia from Outpost Gallifrey for the title.

Walking slowly around the TARDIS console, the Doctor surveyed the gadgetry and what Rose called the 'widgets' critically.

Widgets.

He liked that word.

Over the years, he'd picked up a lot of vernacular from his assistants, but Rose had had more to say than many of them. Amazing, he mused, how in ten years, young people had changed so much.

She was off at the moment, visiting her mother. That was another thing that fascinated the Doctor. On the one hand, Rose Tyler was, in every conceivable way, the epitome of young, independent womanhood. But every so often, she needed the reassurance of her mother.

Did it actually fascinate him? Or was he jealous?

The Doctor tried not to linger on it for too long. His latest incarnation had a worrying tendency to brood. Rose had learned very quickly that when he slid into melancholy, it was wise to steer very, very clear.

The Doctor tinkered with his 'widgets' for a while. The TARDIS was running at optimal performance, but old habits died hard.

"A hobby," Rose had said. "You need a hobby."

That had been a new one.

"I don't really see myself doing cross-stitch," he'd retorted, and the matter had been dropped. The whole thing had been funny to him - as in side-splittingly so.

She did that a lot, Rose. Made him laugh. He suspected that she was like that with everyone, that he wasn't anything special, but it was still nice that she afforded him the effort.

The Doctor whistled softly to himself. Things were quiet right now and that didn't bode well.

He didn't like the quiet life. It didn't - what had been Rose's phrase? It didn't 'float his boat'. He liked to think of himself as a man of Action. Not action, but Action, with a capital 'A'. Not some sort of couch potato. He ran in, metaphorical guns blazing, to any given situation. Right now, the only thing he ran into was the supermarket.

Twenty four hour supermarkets. Humans were so imaginative. There was something oddly decadent about buying a bottle of washing up liquid at three in the morning.

The Doctor had been fascinated by the types of people who would be found in a supermarket at three in the morning, and much to Rose's continued embarrassment, had taken to stalking people around Tesco's in the wee small hours. On the positive side, because of the Doctor's particular brand of peculiarities, the TARDIS was now equally well stocked with washing up liquid and tinned tomatoes.

Captain Jack Harkness would have despaired.

Not for the first time, the Doctor found himself missing the brash young time agent. He was fundamentally wrong somehow, but all this at the same time made him paradoxically right.

Randomly, the Doctor realised that Jack hadn't seen his New Self. Almost self-consciously, he wondered what the verdict would be.

"Self-consciously..." Now that was another new thing. The Doctor had never before been so worried about his appearance. He had spent several days post-regeneration familiarising himself with his new look and, almost shyly, had concluded he rather like it.

He still retained a slight disappointment about not being ginger, though.

The Doctor continued to fiddle with his widgets for a while, until every screw on the TARDIS was as tight as it could be possible to be.

And now he was bored.

He blew out a sigh that started somewhere in his toes and gained momentum as it travelled.

A hobby, Rose had suggested. Something to do that wasn't hurtling with gay abandon through the time-space vortex. Something that would keep him busy.

Unfortunately, he was cursed with a short attention span when it came to any non time-space travelling activities.

Although he liked cooking.

He COULDN'T cook, but that wasn't the point.

He fiddled with his widgets a little more.

He'd suggested to Rose that she bring Mickey back with her. Maybe it was time she had more company in the TARDIS than just him. His previous self had enjoyed the solitude of just the one assistant, but he didn't like it. The place felt empty. He'd have filled the place with assistants if he thought he could stand the inevitable squabbling that would arise. He LIKED Mickey, though. There was something harmless about him.

Besides, if Rose had her beau on board, it might stop those uncomfortable moments when he found her looking at him with an almost predatory expression on her face. It rather unnerved him. He liked Rose. She was a lot of fun. She had energy, optimism and bloody-mindedness in suitably equal quantities, but he didn't think she fully understood that he wasn't the man for her. He wasn't even a man, technically, he was from Gallifrey.

It didn't help that this was one of the youngest, strongest bodies he'd ever received. She was young and pretty and needed affection, and he was always happy to provide hugs every now and again, but he didn't think he could quite give her what he suspected she wanted from him.

So his solution had been to bring Mickey on board.

Trouble was, Mickey was a bit of a prat. OK, Mickey was a lot of a prat. But he didn't have a bad bone in his body, he thought the world of Rose, she clearly still harboured great affection for him – it couldn't go wrong. With Mickey on board, Rose would have company of a – her own species and b – closer to her own age. It couldn't possibly go wrong.

The Doctor stood up. He'd been lying down on the floor under the central console and he stretched out the knots in his shoulders and arms. He was gleefully windmilling his arms around when the TARDIS door opened and Rose returned, followed by a cheerful voice.

"Mickey! Blimey! Fancy seeing you here!" The Doctor carried on windmilling his arms around whilst the young man entered, a rucksack over his shoulder. Rose, he couldn't help noticing, had brought yet another bag of what had to be clothes on board with her. Sarah Jane had never needed so many clothes.

He'd promised himself not to think about his former assistant any more. The terrible sense of guilt and sadness he'd felt when she had left still weighed him down. He forced his thoughts back to Rose.

What was it with that kid? Every time she went home to see her mum, she came back with more clothes. How many clothes did one person need? And why did it matter what colour shoes she wore?

He remembered, briefly, he massive wardrobe room down the corridor and felt guilty again.

The Doctor flashed one of his more manic grins at Rose, whose 'oh no' senses immediately began to tingle. He was in one of Those Moods. The sort of mood where he went from cheerful, almost foppish straight into borderline axe murderer.

He began busying himself at the console controls. "Find Mickey a room that's not filled with your shoes, Rose. Welcome aboard, mate, nice to have you here."

"Yeah, thanks for asking me. I know I said before I couldn't hack it, but wow, man, this is just brilliant."

"You'll have a whale of a time." The Doctor had already moved on from introductions and was programming something into the console.

"Where are we off to next, Doctor?" Rose practically bounced across the floor to stand next to him. He was very aware of her perfume, a light, citrus fragrance that suited her perfectly. It made him sneeze.

"Bless you," said Rose and Mickey simultaneously.

"Thank you. As to where we're off to, well, I was thinking whilst you were gone. This old ship doesn't get TESTED much any more. I mean, I say 'good morning TARDIS, please provide me with a route from point a to point b avoiding traffic jams and toll roads, then I hit the button and whoosh!" He threw his hands up in the air, causing Rose to jump backwards slightly. "Whoosh," he repeated. "Off we go. Well, I think it's time we went for the manual touch."

"You mean you actually CAN fly this thing?" Mickey's incredulity was almost insulting and the Doctor looked sideways at him.

"If by 'fly' you mean can I successfully and expertly navigate the nuances of the time-space vortex without electronic and automatic guidance systems, avoiding such obstacles as time knots, whilst at the same time balancing a glass of water on my head, riding a unicycle AND juggling six live ferrets…" The Doctor paused, having lost the thread of his answer. He picked it up again. "Yes."

"You told me it was designed to be flown by about five Time Lords," said Rose, an accusatory tone in her voice. "I know you've got lots of energy, Doctor, but even YOU can't be in five places at once."

"Can so."

"Don't be stupid."

"I can!"

"Prove it."

"You want me to?"

"You don't have the nerve."

"That a challenge, Rose Tyler?"

Mickey watched the exchange with interest.

She hesitated. She had potentially set something in motion that she couldn't stop once it was rolling. Still, a hyperactive, manic Doctor was infinitely preferable to the depressed, brooding one she had left in the TARDIS that morning. It was all tied in with Sarah Jane Smith, that much she suspected. She'd been annoyed when he'd agreed to let Mickey come on board, but in hindsight…yeah. It'd be kind of nice to have someone else to share things with.

"Right." The Doctor straightened up to his full lanky height and picked his suit jacket up from the console, shrugging it on. He walked around the console a few times, pushing buttons, setting dials, checking readings.

Then he pushed up his jacket sleeves and grinned maniacally.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the TARDIS. Please keep your arms and legs inside the time vortex at all times and remember!" The Doctor held up one long finger. Mickey and Rose stared at the extended digit anxiously. Then the finished his announcement with a flourish. "For the safety of the driver, there is to be no flash photography at any time. Enjoy the ride."

He leaned forward, his eyes glinting dangerously and winked. "Hold on to your hats, wigs and any other head apparel you value."

Then he hit the button.

"I'm telling you, if you use the words 'hurtle', 'plummet' or 'careen' in a sentence again, I'm going to push your teeth so far down your throat that you'll be using dental floss on the toilet." Rose glared furiously at the Doctor, who was lying on the floor in the corner, laughing like some sort of idiot. "And if you EVER and I do mean ever - use the phrase 'rip through the time vortex' again, I'll leave."

"Promises, promises. It could be worse, I could use the phrase 'reverse the polarity of the neutron flow'. That one gets old REALLY quickly."

Mickey got to his feet and immediately fell over again. "Is that it?" he said, a little pathetically. "Is it over?"

"What do you mean, 'is it over'?" The Doctor sprang to his feet as though he'd never fallen down in the first place. "Mickey, mate, it's just STARTING!" He clapped the young man on the shoulder – hard enough to draw a wince – and bounced over to the console, checking the readings.

"We're totally intact, not even a dent to be had."

"After THAT landing? You are kidding me, right?" Rose joined the Doctor at the console and peered at the readings, which were in ancient Gallifrey and about as comprehensible as the instructions in an IKEA DIY shelf unit.

"Rose Tyler, are you doubting my ability as a pilot? I am to the TARDIS what Captain Smith was to ships – oh, hang on, that's not a good analogy, is it? I am to the TARDIS what Ayrton Senna was to Formula…no, that's not a good one either." His brow furrowed for a moment, then he brightened. "I am to the TARDIS what Javron D'astor Mezzalo was to the Kendara Asteroid field." He tapped the side of his nose. "And we all know how popular he became!"

There was no arguing with that one. Rose had no idea who the Doctor was talking about, but she got the sneakiest suspicion he was either name dropping or making it up.

"Where are we, anyway? WHEN are we?"

Mickey had, by now, managed to get to his feet again and somewhat shakily came over to the console. "That was worse than coming back from a booze cruise to Calais on a stormy day," he moaned, his skin decidedly clammy. The Doctor glanced over at him, brief and unconvincing concern showing in his eyes.

"What YOU need, Mickey, is a nice lie down with a lovely young Rose to look after you. She does a good job of nursing people, I know, I WAS that soldier." Again, that maniacal grin at Rose, which put her in mind of an alligator about to strike.

"But I…" she began to protest as the Doctor put hands in the smalls of their backs and pushed them both off down the corridor.

"Go rest, Mickey, go make sure he rests, Rose, enjoy each other's company, won't you, see you later, bye now!"

He slammed the console room door after them.

"He's REALLY messed up, isn't he?" said Mickey, staring at the door for a few moments. "I thought the last bloke was weird, but he's just out and out freaky."

"Like you wouldn't believe," said Rose, grimly. "Something – or someone's getting to him and I'm going to find out what." She put a hand out and opened the door. The Doctor stood right behind it grinning like a complete madman.

"Boo," he said. "Hide and seek, count to three hundred thousand, off you go!"

Then he slammed the door again.

"Come on," said Rose, with a sigh. "I'll show you around."

"Women, Earth. Understanding behavioural patterns." The Doctor spoke to the central computer, which sleepily whirred into life and began filling his control screen with text. He read it quickly, his brow furrowing into a frown. "So key words to listen out for are 'fine' and 'nice'," he said out loud. "Because they're officially the most contradictory words in the history of the universe?"

He sat back and considered this. How many times had he asked Rose how she was and she'd replied, somewhat shortly, 'I'm fine, thank you'? How many times had he landed on a planet, shown her around and asked her what she'd thought had she said 'it was…nice.'?

A lot, that's how many.

According to the data in front of him, 'nice' and 'fine' were nothing more than lies.

"Blimey," said the Doctor, eloquently.

Then, being possessed of the attention span of a goldfish, he promptly lost interest in the subject and busied himself with a local scan of the planet they had actually landed on, checking it out for breathable atmosphere, potentially hostile local life forms and so on. The things a Time Lord actually did. Not this needless worrying about how to deal with an obviously amorous young woman.

He was really quite annoyed at his former incarnation for developing a crush on the girl. He thought the world of Rose, really he did, but he was more practically minded than the man he had come to think of as 'Nine'. He had been the walking wounded, a limping survivor of a terrible war – finding himself to be what he believed was totally alone in the universe (of course, the discovery of the Dalek emperor and his pepperpot army had put paid to that thought). 'Ten' was more inclined to think that perhaps more Time Lords had survived the Time War and was eager to work on any leads he could find.

Showing Rose around the universe had been fine for Nine, but not for him. She was great to have along as an assistant, but no more than that. So why didn't he just tell her how the land lay? Lied? Lew?

This thought immediately distracted him again. He metaphorically slapped himself around the head a few times. "Focus," he murmured and turned his attention back to the instrument panel and the scanners.

"Atmosphere," he said, loudly and firmly, "breathable if a little thin and cold. Note: wear a coat." He paced a little. "Settlements in one hundred mile radius – three major, several minor. Technological status: pre-industrial revolution Earth. Lifeforms – bipedal carbon-based, humanoid. Oh, for Pete's sake, how tedious." Secretly, he'd been aiming for three-legged, multi-eyed insectoid life forms in an effort to add some variety to what must be becoming dull for Rose. Land on planet similar in general layout to Earth, with a worrying tendency towards looking like Cardiff. Find aliens who look to all intents and purposes human. Cause some sort of temporal paradox, run away, fix the problem, run away some more, escape in the nick of time, get home in time for tea and medals...yada yada yada.

Last time he'd visited this planet – oh so long ago now – it had been pretty primitive, even by Earth standards. He'd spent quite some time with them, actually enjoying their Iron Age-style way of life. It was nice, he had discovered, to make things with his own hands. Of course, that had been many regenerations ago. It felt like so long since he'd happily grubbed about in the dirt digging up potatoes. He could have cheerfully remained on this planet. But he hadn't. He had been a young man, then. He glanced vaguely down at the body he now possessed. He was young now, of course, but still nine hundred years old. The paradox continued to delight him.

"Doctor?"

The voice was Rose's and he turned to see her peering cautiously around the side of the door.

"Rose! Yes, come in, come in. And Mickey too! Fancy that…oh, hang on, I invited you on board." The Doctor smacked his forehead with the heel of his palm and grinned broadly. "We've arrived on a pretty dull planet somewhere in the Draxis Cluster. Not incredibly exotic, I'm afraid. Mostly humanoid lifeforms, a few settlements, bit passé if I were blatantly honest."

"Oh," said Rose, rubbing at the back of her neck. "That's…nice."

The Doctor stared at her suspiciously.

"Another planet? Wicked!" Mickey shoved past Rose into the console room and began to examine the monitors and readings. "This is brilliant, Rose, imagine! Another planet!"

"Been there, done that," said Rose, trying to assume an air of bored indifference. "New planets are SO last week. We've landed on space stations and ships."

"Spaceships?"

"Oh, totally," Rose said, waving her hand vaguely, but moved to stand next to him at the console and peered at the monitors with him.

The Doctor stood slightly aside from the two youngsters, a slight smile on his face. So far, so cosy homemaker.

"I reckon," said Mickey, confidently, "that if I had a go, I could get a spaceship."

"Don't be daft, you don't know how the TARDIS works." Rose was incredulous.

"Maybe not," said Mickey, with a slight sideways glance at the Doctor, who winked at him slightly. "But I reckon I could at least have a go. Imagine how impressive that'd be, if I got a space ship on my first attempt."

"I'd be impressed."

"Would you?" Mickey was pleased.

"Yeah. It'd prove you weren't a complete incompetent." Rose put her arms around his waist and hugged him. All of a sudden, having Mickey on board wasn't such an irritating thing after all.

"Do you two want to explore this planet or what?" said the Doctor, breaking up the moment of affection. Rose let go of Mickey almost guiltily. She'd almost forgotten the Doctor's presence – which was of course, exactly what he'd planned all along.

"Nah," said Mickey, easily. "Planets are SO passé after all."

"Want to have a go at programming a destination in?"

"Can I?"

"Yeah, go on, Doctor, let him have a go." Rose was eager. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"I could draw you a picture."

"Nah, you're alright," said Rose, wrinkling her nose at him. Yes, having three of them on board was going to be a lot of fun.

It took the sting out of the initial sense of rejection she'd known right from the moment the Doctor had introduced her to Sarah Jane.

"How about," said the Doctor, putting his arm around Mickey's shoulder, "you find us a nice twenty-four hour supermarket? I think we're getting a bit low on tinned tomatoes…"

The End

(c) 2006, S Watkins