Most of this chapter is the result of Jonn Wolfe's amazingly brilliant reviews and suggestions, not to mention straight-up dialogue. If you don't like it, it's most likely whatever parts I either rearranged or rewrote for fluidity.
And, once again, I'll remind you all that "NewDrWhoFan" isn't just a catchy username; I've never seen a whole episode with the Brig in it in my life. I have, however, read a lot of awesome fanfiction that holds him as absolutely indispensable to the Doctor.
Beta'd by Johnn Wolfe and Faith-o-saurus.
Chapter 10 - Colonel Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart
The Colonel politely waited until his superior had hung up the phone before slamming his own handset down on the receiver. As frequently interrupted as his weekends generally were, Saturday could not come soon enough. Did these idiots have absolutely no concept of what "rapid-reaction" meant? When it came to the potential threats posed by alien entities, waiting for the UN's first contact protocol was simply inadequate. The UK needed to be able to investigate on their own, with the strength of the military at their disposal. There simply wouldn't be time -
He was inconveniently snapped out of his reverie by the ringing of his phone, and surprised to find he had been pacing his office. With a single, deep breath to calm himself, he strode back to his desk, snatched up the handset, and answered with a clipped, "Yes?"
"Ah yes. Hello!" came a cheery voice over the line. "Am I speaking to Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, otherwise known as either Greyhound Leader or Greyhound One?"
He brusquely corrected the caller, "This is Colonel Lethbridge-Stewart. To whom am I speaking?"
"Oh, sorry. Promotion later this year," the man enigmatically replied. "Yes! Good! Well, it's a bit complicated," he continued, undeterred. "I was told to contact you on the off chance I got stranded in the late twentieth century."
"I see... Told by whom?" the Colonel inquired, disbelievingly.
"The Doctor," the caller simply stated.
"I beg your pardon?" he replied, although that would certainly be the only person he knew who would be worried about winding up in the wrong -
"Do I have to repeat myself?" the caller went on, apparently losing patience. "I don't think I have enough change for the phone if this keeps up."
The Colonel cleared his throat, just to let this person know that his own patience had been tested enough already.
"Sorry," the caller offered, "it's just that I'm stuck here 'til the TARDIS gets back, and there's actually, precisely no telling how long that will be."
"Yes, quite," the Colonel allowed, as if completely empathetic. He resisted the urge to inquire as to which doctor, which psychiatric doctor, perhaps, had told him to call. The mention of the TARDIS told him this person was worth seeing, if only to further evaluate as a security risk. "Tell me your name, and where you are. I can have a car sent for you."
"Right... Smith! John Smith," the caller answered with what couldn't possibly be an alias of any sort. "And no need for a car, I'm actually calling from the payphone outside your headquarters. Security wasn't going to let me in, for some reason."
The Colonel closed his eyes. It was too early in the day for this. The man could very well be the Doctor himself, for all their similarities. He briefly wondered whether he had been inadvertently stranded, or purposely abandoned. He couldn't imagine the two getting on very well...
The Doctor smiled and waved the Brig over when he saw him emerge into the lobby... foyer... place at the front of headquarters. He'd still be the Brig to the Doctor's mind whether the man were a brigadier general or a private, let alone colonel. He made a mental note to try and track the man down further along his timeline so that they could have a decent chat. In the meantime, the Doctor had to stick with his cover story. "John Smith," he offered, holding out his hand.
The Brig shook it, then walked him over to sign him in. "John Smith," the Brig repeated to the corporal on duty, at which the Doctor pulled out the psychic paper as evidence. The Brig merely raised an eyebrow and finished his entry in the log book. "Mr. Smith," he invited, gesturing for the Doctor to walk with him, escorting him further into the building. The Brig made no move to initiate conversation until they were closed within his office. "So, you know the Doctor?" he began.
"Yes, I do," the Doctor told him. "I'm one of his assistants, in fact."
The Brig nodded, appraising him. "Still wearing that ridiculous fur coat of his?" he asked.
The Doctor had mixed emotions at that. He realized, on the surface, how ridiculous the coat had indeed been, but a part of him (the part of his psyche that represented his Second incarnation, to be precise) rebelled at the implication. Still, the Doctor managed, "Even in the hottest summers! Can you believe it?"
The Brig sat behind his desk, and asked, "So, how can I help you, Mr. Smith?"
His alias was uncomfortably emphasized, yet the Doctor continued with his request. "I seem to recall, that is, the Doctor told me, that after the Cybermen, you folks were trying to recompense him, even hire him on." The Brig nodded. "There was some mention of a bank account?" the Doctor prodded, at which the Brig narrowed his eyes. The Doctor held up his hands. "I wouldn't be asking, honest," he defended, "except that we don't know how long we'll be stuck here, and the Doctor mentioned it, brought it up himself, 'If any of you ever get stuck on Earth,' he said, 'UNIT should be happy to have you, and set you up quite nicely."
"UNIT?" the Brig asked.
"United Nations - or, Unified - Intelligence Task Force and you haven't actually started that up yet here, have you?" the Doctor realized even while he was answering. That would explain why he was still a colonel...
"No, not 'yet'," the Brig replied, standing to open his filing cabinet. "But, strangely enough, I had just been speaking to a rather short-sighted lieutenant general about something along those lines before you called."
The Doctor mentally reprimanded himself not to let his mouth get ahead of him. "Good luck," a voice that sounded a lot like Rose's seemed to answer.
"As it happens," the Brig continued, sitting back down to open a folder on his desk, "I have the account information on hand." He pulled over a pen and notepad. "How long have you been travelling with the Doctor, then?" he asked while he wrote.
"Oh, probably about three, maybe four years. Hard to keep track of time," the Doctor invented.
"Well, I must say that you're an improvement," the Brig assessed.
"Oh? How so?" asked the Doctor, unsure how to take the comment.
"You seem to be more on the mark," the Brig answered, glancing up briefly before returning to the file. "Despite the hair. That chap from Scotland was a bit flighty."
The Doctor defensively raised a hand to his hair before he could stop himself. Then, the second comment sank in. "Oi! I'll have you know that Jamie was spot on with most of his observations, no matter his style of dress, colloquialisms, or taste in women!"
The Brig put his pen down and sat back. "Well, then there was the young lady -"
"Who loved him!" the Doctor interrupted, his temper simmering if not entirely flaring. "Do you have any idea how ripped apart I was when the Time Lords forced them back into their own timestreams, removing everything they knew about me?!"
The Brig gave him a very pointed look. "Doctor?"
The Doctor replayed his last sentence in his mind. "Uhm... Hello," he greeted with a sheepish wave. He mentally re-reprimanded himself not to let his mouth get ahead of him.
The Brig smiled, and came back around his desk to shake the Doctor's hand properly. "Another face, Doctor? How many have you got, anyway?"
The Doctor opened and closed his mouth, scratching the back of his neck. How was he supposed to get around this one?
"Don't worry," the Brig chuckled, leaning back on his desk and waving a placating hand. "You're not the first you to come back to see me," he explained. "You were supposed to wipe the memories, so I'm not surprised you don't recall; that is, if you're not from even earlier than the last one."
"Ah. Alright, then." The Doctor still wasn't sure about what he could say -
"He explained about regeneration; was having a bit of a time after his latest, actually. I know I'll need to play dumb when you show up trying to convince me of your identity. However," the Brig went on with a grin, "considering how you were, rather poorly, trying to conceal yours, and as you in no way fit the physical description he gave me, it's probably safe for me to tell you."
With a relieved sigh, the Doctor allowed himself to collapse into the chair behind him. "That's quite a load off my mind," he admitted.
The Brig reached around for his notepad, tearing off the top page and handing it to the Doctor. "Anything else I can do to help?" he asked. "If you did want a government position -"
"Oh, no, no, no," the Doctor cut him off. "Thanks. But no. Won't be doing that again anytime soon."
The Brig nodded. "Meaning you will have, then?"
The Doctor bent his head, cradling it in his free hand. "I should really stop talking."
"I'll try and stop asking," the Brig replied, kindly.
The Doctor looked down at the page he held. "Just an off-hand question, now that this is settled," he said, indicating the account information. "Would you happen to know a good restaurant in town? Something..." he coughed and shrugged nonchalantly, "romantic?"
The Brig grinned, wide-eyed. "Who is she?" he asked, evidently astonished.
The Doctor felt his own answering smile. "Rose Tyler."
The Brig blinked. "Dame Rose Tyler? Of the Powell Estate?"
"Well, um... yes?" he answered, and pulled his hand back from where he had begun scratching his neck. The Doctor hoped beyond hope that Torchwood wasn't about to become involved in their stay.
However, the Brig did not appear to be thinking along those lines. "I see," he said, nodding. "I don't suppose she's ignorant of your... 'nature'?"
"She knows everything, and hasn't run away yet."
"Does she love you?"
The Doctor couldn't help how silly his grin must appear. "Yeah. Who'd'a thunk it?"
"I can tell that you feel the same way, just from the look on your face," the Brig told him, smiling. But his eyes narrowed again. "However, I'm compelled to ask you this: are you serious?"
The Doctor wondered when the Brig had become his father, but pulled out the ring in answer.
"Absolutely certain?" he asked with the air of a man struggling with his own marriage.
The Doctor felt a pang of sympathy for him, but answered, "With everything that I am."
The Brig smiled, picking up his phone. "I'll take care of it. Tonight?" The Doctor shook his head. "What day?"
"Thursday," he supplied.
The Brig nodded, having dialed a number from memory. He made the reservation in John Smith's name while the Doctor gave the ring one last look and tucked it back into his jacket pocket.
"Here you are," the Brig told him, handing him a second slip of paper. "And don't you dare try to pay for any of it. It's covered."
The Doctor stood to accept it and shook his hand once again. "Thank you," he told him.
"Absolutely any time," the Brig told him with a wink.
Something in that look… "You knew who I was all along, didn't you?" the Doctor couldn't help but ask.
The Brig laughed. "Quite."
"What gave me away?" He had to know.
"Oh, your running gob," the Brig answered, "and the fact that you used 'John Smith'. Really, Doctor? Couldn't think up anything different?"
"Ah. Well, in my defense, I've been rather distracted of late," he defended himself.
The Brig smirked, patting the Doctor's shoulder. "I think that's a permanent state of mind with you, Doctor. But, I can see how you would be, given what you'll be doing very shortly."
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "I can hardly think of anything else. And that's saying something."
The Brig nodded knowingly as he moved to open his office door.
The Doctor knew it was entirely too early to be saying anything, but he was just so grateful that he couldn't help himself. "Oh, and Br- Colonel?" he said, stopping in the doorway.
"Yes?"
"The name you will be looking for is Doris." Simple enough. No need for details.
"Pardon?" the Brig asked.
The Doctor simply grinned. "Just remember the name."
To be continued...
I was worried this chapter would be too short, but I think it actually ended up a decent length. I promise I'll get to work on the next one anyway, though!
Many thanks to Jonn Wolfe! The Brig was just going to be an aside, until his suggestions started rolling in :) As for Doris, she's the Brigadier's second wife.
If you're trying to compare the events of this story to the original air dates of Doctor Who episodes (unlike the writers of Doctor Who, continuity does actually matter to me), my take sets "The Invasion" in the latter half of 1969, rather than its late 1968 air date. If anyone knows of a reason in that story for why this doesn't work, I'd appreciate the details!