a/n: Posting a little early because I want to get on a Friday posting schedule.


Chapter Three—London, 7 July 2007

A holographic image of the younger Doctor appeared. He was lying on the floor, clearly unconscious. As the image flickered, something that looked like a helmet descended from the ceiling and fitted itself neatly onto the younger Doctor's head. There was a flash of light and the hologram vanished for a moment. When it returned, the trio could see the TARDIS door open. A portion of the grating that made up the floor lifted up, causing the Doctor to roll out the door. The door shut again and the image abruptly shut off. Rose and Mickey turned and stared at the Doctor they were with. His jaw had dropped in shock.

"Blimey," the Doctor said under his breath.

"What… what just happened?" Rose asked. "What was that thing?"

"Something I never thought I'd ever have to use," the Doctor said. "And as for what just happened, I'm not entirely sure. But I think I need to see the man who looks like the old me." He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stand up. "The question is, how? How to get a good look at him without him seeing me?"

"But if it is him, you, it'll be before you've regenerated, yeah? So he won't know who you are," Rose said.

"I can't count on that," the Doctor told her. "I told you that there's an echo when I meet myself."

"But if that's the case, with you here, shouldn't he be feeling the echo now?" she asked.

"Assuming the person you saw is me," the Doctor said, "we both should be. But it's possible that I'm not feeling one because we're not close enough together." He frowned. "Under normal circumstances, and admittedly these are not normal circumstances, if we met face to face he'd be able to tell I'm a Time Lord, and since there aren't any other Time Lords, and since he wouldn't recognize me, he'd know I was a future version of him…"

"But you said you've met yourself before," Rose said.

"Yeah, I have. But in this case I'm interfering in my own timeline. This has to be handled delicately. If it's not handled carefully enough, the results could be catastrophic. And not just to me... Well, let's just say I don't want to risk it." His brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Mickey said whoever that was may have recognized you, but he didn't know who you were. That would mean he's met you before. If he's me and I've already met you, why wouldn't I know who you were?" He sighed loudly in frustration. "And why don't I remember any of this?"

"I dunno," she said, "but I do have an idea about seeing him. There's a couple of restaurants right across the street from the garage. Maybe we can wait in one of them until the shop closes and he leaves. We should get a good view of him without him seein' us."

"What time is it?" Mickey asked.

"A little after five, local time," the Doctor answered.

Mickey shook his head. "It's Saturday. The shop's probably closed by now." He pulled his mobile out of his pocket. After a brief conversation, he rang off and turned back to them. "He's already gone for the day. Did find out his full name though." He looked at the Doctor evenly. "John Smith. Isn't that the name you used when you were teachin' at Deffrey Vale?"

The Doctor and Rose exchanged glances, with Rose's clearly saying I told you so.

"We need more information about him," the Doctor said. "How long he's been here. Where he lives. Where he was before he got here."

"So you're no longer denyin' he's you?" Mickey asked.

The Doctor yanked on one ear and grimaced. "With the evidence we have so far, let's just say it's… possible he's me. But the jury's still out." Mickey rolled his eyes. "The question is," the Doctor continued, "if we can't talk to him directly, don't even know where he is, how are we going to get the answers we need?"

Rose and Mickey exchanged glances and smirked. "Well, there's one person on the Estate that not only knows everybody but everybody's business too," Mickey said.

The Doctor glanced from one to the other of them. "Who?" he asked. And then it hit him. He got a pained expression on his face. "Oh, no."

~oOo~

John unlocked the door to his flat and carried his dinner straight back into the small space that was his lounge. Not one for cooking, John had picked up a sandwich and crisps from the deli down the street and some beer from Tesco Express on his way home. It was either takeaway or beans on toast, and even the idea of beans on toast made him shudder in disgust.

He set the food down on the beat-up old coffee table and sat down on the threadbare sofa. Not only was the sofa worn, it was ugly. It was covered in a rough, plaid fabric in orange, yellow and black that hadn't been popular since the '70s. The flat had come furnished, which suited him since he hadn't owned anything except a change of clothes when he had arrived back on the Estate, but everything in the place was in bad shape and hadn't been particularly nice when new. The only exceptions were a very expensive new mattress and a state of the art computer system that he had purchased himself. To the outside world they would have seemed like luxuries, particularly in light of his meager salary, but he considered them necessities. The computer system was vital for his continuing search for clues to who he was. And the need for a decent mattress was self-evident. The old one was badly stained and emitted an odor whose source didn't bear thinking about, plus it had had a spring that caught him in the back no matter how he lay down on it.

He flipped on the ancient television before cracking open a beer and unwrapping his sandwich. There was nothing of interest on, nothing that interested him at any rate. He wasn't into sports, the news wasn't new but a rehash of what had happened the previous week, game shows were too easy and thus boring, and dramas? Too domestic. He watched a few minutes of an American science fiction program until he decided the science behind it was so ridiculous that it made the show unwatchable.

Finally he found a channel broadcasting a movie he hadn't seen, a recent James Bond film starring an actor he didn't know. He took a swig of his beer and sat back, willing to suspend disbelief for a few minutes. But his mind wandered back to the garage and the girl he had seen. He had seen more than blonde hair. He had caught a glimpse of her face before she had left. He sat back and closed his eyes, trying to recapture the image.

Blonde hair. A wide mouth...

He was startled from his reverie by something jumping onto the sofa next to him. He opened his eyes again. A black cat was sitting next to him, calmly helping itself to his sandwich.

It was not his cat. He did not own a cat. He raised an eyebrow.

"Where did you come from?" he said, figuring it had wandered in from the Estate through the cat flap built into the exterior door. He vaguely recalled someone telling him that the strays would do that but he couldn't remember who, or when he had had that conversation.

The cat did not deign to answer, not with a meow or even a glance in his direction. Instead it continued to focus on trying to eat his dinner.

"Oi, that's mine," he protested. He ripped off a chunk of the sandwich—the portion that had been chewed on by the cat—and put it on the floor. The cat jumped down, pulled the meat and cheese out from between the bread slices, and began to nibble on them.

"You must be thirsty," he said. Shoving the rest of the sandwich in his mouth, he got up and went into the kitchen for a bowl of water. On the way back he retrieved his sketchpad and pencils from the bedroom.

"Now you can stay for a bit," he told the cat as it—no, she—began to drink. "But you can't move in. Don't know how long I'm stayin' here."

The cat ignored him and returned to eating the cheese. John watched for a minute and then turned to the sketchpad. He flipped through the pages, glancing at his drawings. Monsters, metal men, pepper pots fitted with eye stalks, plungers and whisks—a psychiatrist would have a field day with him. He flipped quickly through those pages, as he did the pictures of planets on fire. Perhaps not typical dream images, but all they were were dream images. They could have nothing to do with his previous life.

He turned the page and saw the sketch of the girl he had been working on that morning. Now he could see what was wrong with it. Her nose was slightly shorter and wider than he had drawn. And her ears… They were smaller, but there was more. Something missing.

Earrings. Big gold-colored hoops.

He made the corrections, just barely adjusting a line here, a shadow there, and then added the earrings. When he was finished, he sat back and stared at the picture.

It was her. The girl he had been dreaming about. But more than that, it was the girl he had seen at the garage. The girl's hair had been shorter, her makeup different, but it was her, he was sure of it.

The cat jumped back up on the sofa and rubbed against him, purring. He absently stroked her head as he puzzled over the drawing.

"Who are you?" he said. "And how can I find you again?"

~oOo~

"Now remember," Rose said, "don't tell Mum we've been here all day."

Both the Doctor and Mickey rolled their eyes. They were carrying a couple of pizzas: part dinner, part peace offering just in case she had heard they were back and hadn't stopped by the flat first.

"As if," Mickey said.

Rose unlocked the door. As they walked in the door, she was struck as always by how tiny the flat was. Despite having recently been repaired from damage it had received at Christmastime and received a fresh coat of paint, the narrow hall looked cramped and dark. Perhaps the flat seemed small because she was comparing it to the grandeur of the TARDIS, she supposed. Or perhaps she had just outgrown it, as she had outgrown Estate life while traveling with the Doctor.

Deciding not to dwell on that thought, she called out to her mum.

"Mum, we're home. Are you here?"

Before the words were out of her mouth, Jackie ran out of the lounge and met them in the hall. "Rose!" she exclaimed and pulled her daughter in for a hug. "Why don't you ever call? Why bother even having a mobile when you don't use it?"

Rose knew that her mother really didn't expect an answer. "We brought dinner," she said when her mother let her go.

"Thank goodness," her mother said. "I've got nothing in. Certainly not enough for those two." Jackie cast a disparaging glance towards the lounge. The two women followed them in to find that in the short time she had been hugging Rose, the Doctor and Mickey had gone into the lounge, settled themselves on the white imitation-leather chairs, and begun to eat. Mickey had a slice of pizza in one hand and was using the remote to flip through the channels on the telly with the other.

"Don't get too comfortable," Jackie told them all. "Stuart is comin' over."

"Stuart? Who's Stuart?" Rose asked. "Whatever happened to Dennis?"

"And as far as that's concerned, whatever happened to Howard?" the Doctor added.

"Howard was ages ago, and as for Dennis…" Jackie made a rude noise. "Stuart works over at the Chinese takeaway," she told them.

Rose frowned thoughtfully. "Stuart, Stuart… Oh, I remember! Isn't he the cook over there?"

"Yeah," Jackie said.

"Oh! Is he the one who does the wonderful chips?" the Doctor asked.

"That's him," Jackie said. "Does a gorgeous curry as well."

"You know, you should tell him to put the chips in newspaper," the Doctor told her. "Nothing like chips served the traditional way in newspaper. They taste better than when they're wrapped in foil. The newspaper doesn't trap the moisture like foil does, and it absorbs some of the oil, leaving them crisp instead of soggy."

Rose rolled her eyes. "I think you just like the flavor of newspaper ink," she said.

"Depends on the ink used, Rose," he said. "Some are quite bitter."

"Trust you to know," she muttered.

Jackie retrieved some plates and napkins from the kitchen. She pointedly handed a plate and napkin each to the Doctor and Mickey, warning them not to make a mess. Mickey took both without turning from the television. There was another match on.

After the two women helped themselves to slices of pizza and sat down on the sofa, the Doctor turned to them.

"So, Jackie," he said between bites of extra cheese and pepperoni. "What's new around here?"

Rose's eyes got huge. What are you doing, she mouthed. She knew from long years of experience that asking her mother a leading question like that could set them up for a several hour gossip session despite her mum's new boyfriend coming over.

The Doctor ignored her and grinned at Jackie.

"Well," Jackie said conspiratorially. "Rose, your cousin Lavina is pregnant again. This will be her fourth. Mo got a new job, not sure doin' what though. Bev's sister's daughter got another tattoo. This one winds half up her arm. Looks like a snake." She shuddered. "And someone new just moved in across the way. A real grouch. But that's not all bad. He managed to get Rita and Chuck quiet for once. I thought the row they were having this morning would last into next week…"

As Jackie continued to talk, Rose watched the Doctor take another bite. The cheese stretched, forming a long string between the slice of pizza and his mouth. He wrapped it around his tongue three times before biting it off and pulling it into his mouth. She stared at him, disturbed by how disgusted she was yet at the same time how oddly arousing she found it. As if he knew what she was thinking, he smirked at her and gave her a wink.

"Git," she said under her breath.

An hour later, Rose shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Mickey had switched to watching a movie at some point and was still staring at the screen. And her mother was still talking. The Doctor was pretending to be engrossed in the dramas taking place on the Estate, periodically making sympathetic noises. She didn't know how he could do it. Listening to her mum go on and on like that made her eyes cross.

"And Brian's son what's-his-name is marrying that girl he's been living with the past couple of years," Jackie said.

At that, Rose's ears perked up. "Susie? Rob's marrying Susie?"

"Yeah," her mother answered. "Wasn't she one of the ones that you used to hang out with?"

"Yeah, she was." Mickey answered for Rose without turning from the telly. "It was Rose, Susie, Shareen, Keisha, and Rita. They'd all go out clubbin', then come home absolutely pissed. Sometimes Rose'd stay out all night with 'em and say she'd stayed with Shareen or Keisha and they'd say they had stayed here."

As Jackie raised an eyebrow at her daughter, Rose glared at him. "And thank you so much for sharing that with my mother, Mick. Just wait until I tell Mum and the Doctor about the time you…"

At this, Mickey finally turned from the television. "No!" he said quickly. "Don't need to go into all that."

The Doctor leaned back against the back of the sofa. His eyebrow arched and a small, amused smile played around his lips.

"Anyway, if the two of you were friends, you'd probably be invited to the wedding, Rose. That is, if you were here," Jackie said pointedly.

"We might be able to come back for it," the Doctor said, and Rose looked at him in surprise. Shock was more like. Are you sure, she mouthed. He shrugged indifferently.

"Uh, yeah," she said, turning back to her mother. "We might be able to come back."

"Good," Jackie said vehemently. "People are always askin' about you, what you're doin', when you're comin' back, that sort of thing. I never know what to tell them."

"Tell them I'm traveling," Rose said.

"Traveling? People will only buy traveling for so long, and then they begin to wonder if you're in jail," Jackie replied.

"Or dead," Mickey said with a sharp glance at Jackie. He had never completely gotten over the fact that for a year people had thought he had murdered Rose when she had begun traveling with the Doctor. Rose's mother, who had been behind the rumor of Mickey murdering Rose, didn't have the grace to look shamefaced. She had apologized, and in her mind that was the end of it.

"So, Jackie, Rose and Mickey went past the auto repair shop today…" the Doctor said, changing the subject. He didn't need to say more. It was enough to get Jackie started again.

"Oh, yeah, they've fixed it all up," she said. "They've got a new mechanic, too. He's the one who ended the row between Rita and Chuck." They all looked at her blankly. "I told you, but as usual none of you were listening. He just moved in across the way a few months ago. Works at the shop and does odd jobs around the Estate. Had him in here myself to fix the tap in the kitchen since no one here was around to do it."

"He was here?" Rose asked incredulously. "In the flat? And you didn't mention it?"

"Why would I?" Jackie asked. "'S just a tap."

"Did he look like anyone you know?" Rose asked. "Seem familiar in any way?"

"Not really," she said. She thought for a moment. "Maybe a bit like that American bloke from the Tour de France. Lance something or other."

"Lance Armstrong?" the Doctor asked incredulously.

Jackie nodded. "Yeah, that's the one," she answered. "Not much, mind, but a bit."

"Why would Lance Armstrong be livin' on the Estate?" Mickey asked.

"Didn't say he was, did I?" Jackie said.

"Did he remind you of anyone else?" Rose asked.

"Well, he did look a little like first him," she said. "Just a little bit, though. He's got much longer hair and a scruffy beard half the time, and no leather jacket. Course it is July…"

"And you didn't think to call me?"

"Why would I?" Jackie asked again. "'S not him, after all. He changed. Doesn't look like that anymore. 'S not like he can change back." She paused as if a thought just occurred to her. "You can't change back, can you?"

"No, he can't," Rose answered.

"I don't know why you think I should have called. You know it's not him, Rose. He's sittin' right there next to you."

"Yes, of course I am," the Doctor said smoothly. "And where else would I be?"

Jackie frowned. "Why all the questions?" she asked suspiciously. "'S not like any of you to care one way or t'other what happens around here."

They were saved from answering by a knock at the door. Jackie got up. "That'll be Stuart," she said. "I'd invite you to stay…" Her tone indicated that that was the last thing she wanted them to do.

"Nah, we'll be on our way," the Doctor said as they stood. Mickey picked up the pizza boxes. "Things to do, places to go and all that."

They met Stuart on the way out. He was a short Asian man who appeared to be in his mid-forties and smelled vaguely of Chinese takeaway and chips.

"Have you ever considered serving your chips in newspaper, Stuart?" the Doctor asked after they had been introduced. "It really brings out the flavor."

Stuart looked puzzled at the question. "Newspaper?" he asked.

Rose poked the Doctor in the side. When he turned to her she glared at him. "Ignore him," she said to Stuart. "That's what the rest of us do." She turned to give her mother a hug. "We'll be back soon, yeah?"

"Just don't let it be three months this time," Jackie replied.

"Oh, it won't," the Doctor said. "Probably will be tomorrow."

Jackie rolled her eyes. "I'll believe that when I see it."

"Tomorrow?" Rose asked as the door shut behind them.

"I doubt the TARDIS will let us take off yet," the Doctor told her. "Probably won't until we know more about what's going on." He looked across the courtyard. "Hmm. Should have asked Jackie which flat he's in." He glanced back at the door and then grimaced. "Nope. Not going back in there."

"I could ask around, see if anyone else knows what flat he's in," Mickey suggested.

The Doctor scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. "No, I don't want him to find out people have been asking questions about him. Tomorrow is soon enough. With both TARDISes out of commission, it's not like either of us is going anywhere." His voice dwindled off, and he frowned. "I'm still not entirely sure what happened or why. I need to try and get more information from the TARDIS—see if I can clear up some of the interference. Only then can we figure out how to fix all this."

As the Doctor and Mickey began to make their way to the stairwell, Rose hung back, staring at the windows of the building across the courtyard. Lights were just beginning to come on in the windows, and she wondered which one was his.

He was over there somewhere. Her first Doctor. Her heart ached at the thought. Even though the Doctor was still with her, sometimes she missed his old self: beat up leather jacket, big ears and all. She wished she could see him again, just spend time with him, kind of like she had wanted to see her father again, but not. The feelings she had had for her Doctor were nothing like what she had had for her dad.

But look how seeing her father had turned out, with the Earth almost being sterilized by reapers. She couldn't risk the paradox.

But what she wouldn't give to see her first Doctor again.

"Rose, Rose!" The Doctor's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She turned to him. "We're headed back to the TARDIS. Are you coming, or are you staying here?"

"I'm coming," she said.

He nodded. As he headed down the stairs, she began to follow, but not without a backward glance at the other building again.