Notes: The expanded universe's take on Gallifreyan biology suggests that Gallifreyans, like cats and certain other animals, have tapetum lucidum in their eyes, which allows for enhanced night vision—with the side effect of reflecting light that strikes their eyes so that they seem to glow, which is why I have the Doctor's eyes as described in this chapter.
The Doctor and I had been to Brooklyn before; sometimes, our previous "cases" (if you can call them that) took us there, but it was usually due to the Doctor insisting that we go to Coney Island and feast on popcorn and candyfloss.
Seeing as though this was our first true case, the Doctor and I seemed to be treating it with our usual flair—involving some plans of action, debating, and then descending into unapologetic bickering.
It was our bizarre way of stating that we cared about each other. Don't ask me the logic behind that.
"I heard you talking to the cab driver about which cemeteries the laddies tend to be found," I said, as we walked down the streets. "Do you really intend to sit them down and question them?"
"You act as though that wouldn't work!" the Doctor exclaimed, in mock surprise. "Oh, Jamie, I always thought you had more faith in me than that! Why, even our client said that I inspire her confidence!"
"Aye, but that was before she saw you in… that," I responded, glancing at his choice of clothing.
On the way out, he had grabbed a longcoat and had worn it over his usual black suit and checkered trousers; the longcoat, like everything else he wore, was too big for him, resulting in his pinned bow tie being visible on his collar, and he even had to roll the sleeves of the coat up several times in order to free his hands. A fedora hat served as the crowning glory to this… nameless appearance.
"Well, look at you!" the Doctor countered.
He had silently indicated my own longcoat, which I was wearing over my jumper and kilt. And aye, I had one of those fedora hats, too.
"I'm only wearing this because it was your idea," I insisted, and I then launched into an imitation of his voice. "'Oh, look, Jamie—let's get matching coats and hats!'"
The Doctor stared at me.
"Where did you learn to imitate my voice like that?"
I smirked.
"Well, after hearing it endlessly for years and years and years…"
"Are you implying that I talk too much?"
I looked back at him with a mischievous smirk, and prudently decided not to answer.
"Hmph!" the Doctor scoffed at me. "Smirk all you want! You still look nothing like Sam Spade!"
"Eh?" I asked, frowning in confusion.
The Doctor's expression softened, and, once again, I could read in his eyes what he was thinking—there were times he honestly forgot that I was a piper from the 1700s. We'd been traveling together for so long that, sometimes, it felt as though I had been with him my entire life.
He placed a hand on my shoulder.
"After this is all over, you and I are watching The Maltese Falcon together."
I smiled.
"I'd like that," I said. "But we've got this problem to deal with first. Are we just going to walk up to these ruffians and question them about the missing laddie?"
"Yes, exactly that," the Doctor said, rubbing his hands together.
"But how will we get them to say anything?" I asked. "They di'n say a word to the police. How can we guarantee that they'll talk to us?"
"Simple—with just a twinkle of my eyes. Like so."
I looked to him—and yelled out in fright. Just like there were times that the Doctor forgot that I was from the 1700s, there were also times that I forgot that he wasn't human. But, sometimes, I was reminded, just like that moment, when I saw the Doctor holding a torch so that the light fell across his face—and setting his alien eyes aglow.
"Don' do that!" I hissed.
"Well, it worked against you, didn't it?" the Doctor mused.
I was about to retort that seeing glowing eyes on a man who looked human was enough to scare anyone, but the Doctor suddenly covered my mouth with his hand as he focused on some sound coming from behind a barrier of tall hedges.
There were voices coming from the other side of the hedges.
"Do you know where we are, Jamie?" the Doctor whispered to me, as he uncovered my face.
"Near one of the cemeteries where those ruffians frequent?" I whispered back.
The Doctor nodded, smiling.
"Right on the other side of the hedges," he said. "And it would seem that they are present."
"Aye, so… how do we approach them and surprise them with your eyes?" I inquired of him.
"I'll leave stage one of that plan to you," the Doctor said, and before I knew what was happening, he pressed the torch into my hand and gave me a tremendous shove that sent me crashing through the hedge.
The boys, hiding amongst the grave markers, all came out of hiding as I stumbled the rest of the way through. I cast a furious look behind me, but, of course, the Doctor had made his move, and there was nothing I could do about it.
"Aye. Alright, then," I said, glaring down the boys. "I've got some questions about your missing friend—Anthony."
"You're not with the police, are you?" one of them observed, aiming a torchlight beam at me.
I winced as the light fell right onto my eyes, and I held a hand up to shield my eyes from the light.
"No, I'm a private investigator—"
I was interrupted as a couple of the boys began to chuckle.
"What's so funny?" I inquired
"You in that skirt, Pal," one of them sneered.
I gritted my teeth.
"It's. A. Kilt," I said.
"If you say so," another one said, sarcastically.
I could feel my face going red as my Highland blood began to boil.
"We're nae here to discuss fashion—" I began.
"Good, because you'd be terrible."
I strode forward and grabbed the ruffian by the collar of his shirt. The smile faded from his face, and I took that as a hopeful sign.
"What happened to Anthony?" I hissed.
"We don't know anything!" the lad squeaked.
"It's like we told the police," another said. "He went off on his own; we never saw him after that."
"Where did he go?" I asked. "He must have said; either that, or he was abandoned by you ruffians!"
"We don't know anything!" a third lad insisted. "So just hitch up your skirt and walk away!"
I was spared from trying to come up with a proper retort, a low, monstrous snarl emitted from the hedge I had crashed through.
"What was that?" one of the lads asked.
"That?" I asked, wondering what the Doctor was trying to accomplish. Suddenly, it hit me, and I suppressed a smirk. "Aye, it must be the Great Gallifreyan Beastie. There's a legend up in the Scottish Highlands… The Great Gallifreyan Beastie prowls burial grounds for those who are nae supposed to be there and claims them as his victims. I guess he must be visiting this one tonight."
"Nice little fairy tale," one of the lads sneered. "I'd say it goes right along with your skirt."
"Well, I'm nae the one making that noise," I countered, as the Doctor snarled a second time.
"You've got a pal hiding in there," the lad countered. "Is he wearing a skirt, too?"
He aimed the torchlight beam into the hedge—and screamed (in a voice a few octaves higher than normal) as the light set the Doctor's eyes aglow as they had before. The Doctor snarled angrily again, and I had to cover my mouth with my hand—feigning shock, but, in reality, suppressing my laughter.
"Aye…" I said, bravely. "I'll hold the Beastie off—but only if you tell me the truth about Anthony."
"And if we don't?" one of the lads asked.
The Doctor snarled again, pushing his way further through the hedge.
"Then I've no choice but to leave you to the mercies of the Great Gallifreyan Beastie," I insisted.
"Tonight…" the Doctor hissed, in a low, gravelly voice. "Oh, tonight, my hunt is fruitful…"
"We'll talk!" one of the lads in the back of the group exclaimed, eager to save his own skin. "We were inside that old, abandoned house by the shore—they call it the Adelo House. They said it was haunted, but we didn't believe it… Until we heard something, and it was every man for himself. Anthony never made it out! We never saw him after that, and we never went back there!"
"And now in the name of that innocent victim you so heartlessly abandoned, I shall wreak my vengeance upon you!" the Doctor hissed.
"Run—now!" I said, hoping that the grin on my face wasn't visible in the light of the torches.
I threw myself into the hedges—unconvincingly, I'm sure, but it wouldn't have mattered; the lads had already turned tail and ran for the cemetery gates.
"That was perfect," I said, grinning. "That was absolutely perfect!"
"Well, it would be if you'd stop sitting on me!" the Doctor exclaimed.
"Oh, sorry…"
The Doctor tried his very best to keep an indignant look on his face as I helped him free of the hedges.
He ultimately failed at this, and I didn't fare any better; with just one look at each other, we both broke down, laughing helplessly.
"I will ne'er say a word against your eyes again," I promised.
"Can I have that in writing?"
"No."
"Oh, fair enough, I suppose; we can discuss that later. We've got more work to do now," the Doctor said. He got to his feet, pulling me up with him. "Onward, then, to the Adelo House!"
I headed in the direction of the cemetery entrance, but the Doctor whistled to get my attention.
"Jamie…" he said, indicating the hedge. "This is the quicker way out. Besides, we can't have those youngsters accidentally seeing what the Great Gallifreyan Beastie really looks like, now can we?"
I bit my lip to keep from laughing again as we departed through the hedge.