A/N: This is in honor of my finally seeing Series Six in the last week of October 2011. As of this edit, I'm up to date and starting Classic Who
Noted: My unflappable guide to Doctor Who, whom I shall here call Steve, just told me that when the show airs in the UK, there are no commercial breaks. This story has been edited to reflect that, and the Jack joke will get its own scene in "C'est la Vie."
April 23, 2011
Sarah hummed tunelessly to herself as she wandered through the supermarket, basket swinging from one hand. She'd been preparing for tonight for the last four months, ever since England had found out she had never seen Doctor Who before. After his initial shock, he'd leaped out of bed, sprinted into the study (still naked), turned his computer on, and began searching for a good place to start.
He'd finally settled on the beginning of the New Series, and they'd watched three episodes that night. Since then, any time they'd had an evening together, they would watch Doctor Who.
Occasionally they watched Classic serials, but his goal was to make sure she was up to date by the start of the season. (Ah, here it is: Sweets, Chips, and Snacks. Sarah turned into the aisle and began browsing with purpose.)
She'd discovered a different side of England that night. At "I'm the Doctor. Run," she'd looked over at England and found him grinning. It was something she almost got used to over the next few months; when the Doctor was on, he was a different person.
He explained it to her at some point: Doctor Who was practically his national television programme. The whole country loved it, and therefore he loved it.
And somewhere along the way he'd gotten America into it too. In the States, it was mostly a nerd thing, like Star Trek, and America had only ever seen the new series, but he still liked it enough that he was coming over tonight.
And bringing his Escort, whom Sarah hadn't yet met. So it was a party; and that was why Sarah was at the supermarket.
The cashier smiled knowingly as he rang up three bags of jellybabies, two packages of jammy dodgers, and a box of assorted herbal teas. Sarah left the supermarket, still humming.
Series Six premiered tonight, and the whole country would be watching.
England was getting impatient. "Where the bloody hell—"
"Relax," Sarah reassured him. "I told him to come an hour early, so he should be here..." She was interrupted by banging on the front door. "Right on time." She disappeared into the kitchen as England opened the door.
America bounded in and gave England a hug, then seemed to remember his Escort was standing next to him and introduced her as Rosa Marquez. She was Hispanic, petite, olive-skinned, with a white streak dyed into her dark-brown hair. (England could see why America liked her.)
They came in, and as they sat down in front of the television, Sarah shouted from the kitchen. "Al, you're here? Good. I need a young pair of legs and a strong back. C'mere a sec."
America got up, remembered to excuse himself (England was surprised), and went into the kitchen. An awkward silence followed. Rosa wondered who this Arthur was, and how he knew Alfred, and how in heaven's name they had gotten to London so quickly. England just wondered how much Rosa knew.
Finally, he spoke. "So, Miss Marquez, how are your studies?"
In the kitchen, Sarah sat on the table, grilling America while the tea steeped. "So, who is she?"
"Rosa Marquez. We met at a party at the University of Chicago. She's a history major there, just about to graduate."
"You must love her then." Sarah grinned.
America shook his head. "Actually, I'm...I'm a little nervous," he confessed. "What if she finds out about...you know..."
Sarah chuckled. "You drove from Chicago to London, and you're worried she'll find out." America looked embarrassed. "Don't worry. When she does, we'll deal with it." That we did not include America.
"Excuse me!" came an unfamiliar voice from behind the kitchen door. "Are you two coming?"
Sarah looked pointedly at America and pointed to the snack tray. "Momentito," she called back. "Necesité explicar a este chico cómo abrir la puerta."
A laugh from outside, and the door swung outwards, revealing the short Chicana that Sarah had expected. "No te preocupes, él es así."
America carried the tray into the living room, and Sarah stopped to shake the new girl's hand. "Eres Rosa, verdad? Me llamo Sarah; encantada; disfrutaremos esta noche; vamos!"
"Doesn't have quite the same ring as 'allons-y,'" Sarah muttered to England as she settled onto the couch next to him. England reflected that she'd picked up a number of the Tenth Doctor's mannerisms while watching; certainly she said "what" more often than was strictly necessary during the opening of the new episode. In fact, she said more than was strictly necessary—England had to shush her several times, and eventually reminded her that no one had ever seen this particular episode before.
When the alien appeared in the White House bathroom, Sarah jumped, then started muttering "it's a Star Trek mask, it's a Star Trek mask." Which worked until the other woman in the bathroom said the same thing. Twice.
After that, Sarah shut up.
"Doctor...I'm pregnant." In the living room, four jaws dropped. But no time to discuss it: the Astronaut was approaching.
She fired. The Astronaut opened its visor.
It was the child.
TO BE CONTINUED
"Aw, come on! Did she hit it?"
"Don't be stupid, Alfred. We'll find out next week."
Sarah shook her head to clear it. "Wow. So...now I have to wait? Is this what it's like, experiencing time in the right order?" She stood up and grabbed the tea tray. "Rosa, ayúdeme con los platos?" Rosa looked at America, who shrugged. Then she picked up the plate of jammy dodgers and followed Sarah into the kitchen.
England and America were left sitting at opposite ends of the couch. America scooted closer. "Hey Iggy, wanna-"
England stood up. "No, you prat, not with your Escort here!"
America pouted. "But Iggy, she's in there!" He pointed at the closed kitchen door. "And anyway, I bet Sarah's telling her everything!"
England shook his head and headed for the front stairs. "She hasn't received instructions from Elizaveta about her; I know because she told me that you and Rosa would be sleeping in Hadassah's old room tonight." He shook his head. Sometimes he wondered who was really in charge of his House. "She only made up the one bed; I hope you won't have any trouble."
"Nah, I don't think so," America said as he followed England up the stairs. "Not as long as her parents don't find out, anyway..."
"Why do you keep talking to me in Spanish?" Rosa asked.
Sarah shrugged. "Well, your file says you're bilingual, and...I thought maybe it'd put you at ease. I'm sorry if it didn't." She began rinsing teacups. "There's ziplocs to the left of the sink; could you grab a gallon one for the cookies?"
Rosa didn't move. "What file? And you're British; why don't you sound like it?"
Sarah turned off the water. "Second question first: my dad's English, but I grew up in Chicago. Now, if you don't mind putting the cookies away..." Once she saw Rosa get a bag and start repackaging the jammy dodgers, she went on. "To answer your first question: what do you know about where Al works?"
Rosa shrugged uncomfortably. "I know he works for the government, State Department or something; he doesn't like to talk about his job."
Sarah finished loading the dishwasher and began hand-washing the teapot. "Why don't you sit down, Rosa?" Rosa sat. "Now. Would you believe me if I told you that Alfred F. Jones worked for the CIA?"
Rosa's eyes widened. Sarah went on.
"His cover is that he's a low-level State Department diplomat, who goes on all sorts of trips to work with his counterparts in other countries on the Milennium Development Goals or something similarly mundane. But in reality, he's a spy, part of an international network sharing information towards any number of clandestine goals. And Arthur's his counterpart in MI6. Much more exciting than the State Department." She set the teapot upside-down on the counter, and leaned on the kitchen table.
"Wow," Rosa said.
Sarah chuckled. "Don't believe me? You can ask him tonight. I made one of the guest beds for you-that won't be a problem, will it?"
"Will what?"
"One bed?" Sarah picked up the long gray coat hanging over one of the chairs, put it on, and did up a couple of buttons.
Rosa thought about it. "It...shouldn't," she said. "Just don't tell my mother?"
"Gotcha," Sarah said, giving Rosa a thumbs-up. Both girls laughed, and Sarah up a brightly colored scarf from the chair and put it on. She wrapped it around her neck three times, and its ends still trailed on the ground.
"Are you going somewhere?" Rosa asked, watching this with interest.
"Not really," said Sarah, as she picked up a broad-brimmed brown hat from where it had fallen on the floor and plopped it on her head. "Just upstairs. When you live with the world's biggest Doctor Who fan, life tends to get weird. How about you? What does Alfred like?"
"Don't you have a file on him too?" Rosa retorted.
"Yes, but...there's no substitute for experience, is there? Let's go." Holding up the ends of her scarf, she trotted up the stairs. Rosa followed her.
Once she'd shown Rosa to the guest room where America was waiting, Sarah sent a quick text to Dana in Budapest. Translated, it read: Contact made w/America's rose. About to bloom; when to pick?
She would get an answer in the morning. For now, she turned off the phone, left it and her jeans in the guest room she'd recently turned into a command center, and went into England's bedroom, closing the door behind her.
A/N: The layout of England's house is similar to that in "Waking Up in London"; Hadassah, once again, is katzoa's OC Israel, who lived in England's House for a while before WW1.
Also, you win jellybabies if you can tell me which Classic Companion Sarah dresses up as at the end, and/or what Disney movie she quotes near the beginning.