Chapter Forty-Five—Dallas, 22 November, 1963, and Southampton, 10 April, 1912
Mickey hurried down the crowded Dallas street, weaving through the mass of people gathered on the pavement, making his way to Dealey Plaza and trying not to draw attention to himself. The jet injector, preloaded with an ampule containing the antidote to the time toxin, weighed heavily in his trouser pocket.
In the distance, he heard the cheers of the onlookers a couple of streets away as the presidential motorcade passed by.
"Now remember, Mickey," the Doctor said. "You need to time this precisely. You need to be in place behind me just before the assassination."
Mickey rolled his eyes. "Got it."
"And it's essential that he not spot you."
"I know," Mickey said.
"And remember, we're going to be on the grassy knoll looking for him, so if you're next to him, you're going to be in our line of sight," said the Doctor. "It's vitally important that we don't spot you."
"I know, I know, I know! That's the third time you've told me! What are you gonna be doing while I'm doing all this?"
"I'll be looking for his TARDIS. While you're inoculating me, I need to get in, inoculate her, and get out before he comes back. Piece of cake."
Sure, Mickey thought. Piece of cake for you, maybe. You got the easy job.
The Doctor had warned him that the landing in Dallas would be rough. Having had only one dose of the antidote by this point, the TARDIS was only partially recovered from the toxin and would certainly rebel against landing there again. Not to mention there would now be three Doctors in Dallas that morning, with two of them the same incarnation. According to the Doctor, in addition to that being virtually unheard of, it was far more dangerous to the time/space continuum than their trip to the Titanic dock had been. He'd then branched off into a completely incomprehensible story about three of himself, a gigantic snail, and a vat of salt water before returning to topic.
But to the surprise of both of them, the landing in Dallas hadn't been any rougher than was typical of any of the Doctor's landings. The Doctor had speculated at the time that the TARDIS must be as anxious to get this whole business sorted and done with as they were.
He'd then told Mickey his plan, such as it was.
"You mean I could have shot you with the injector through your clothes? I didn't need to pull down your pants after all? Because that's a sight I could have gone my entire life without seeing."
The Doctor scowled at him. "No need to be rude."
"Yeah, that's your job."
"Again, rude. And no, you couldn't have shot the antidote through my clothes. At least not then."
The Doctor pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and pointed it at the injector. The sonic whirred.
"Now you can," he said, pocketing his screwdriver again. He loaded an ampule into the base of the injector. "I've increased the injection power so you should be able to shoot it through his trousers. But it won't work through my leather jacket, and it'll have to be at very close range."
"So let me get this straight. You seriously want me to sneak up on him and give him a shot in the arse without him noticing."
The Doctor didn't appear to notice, or perhaps simply ignored, Mickey's mocking tone. "Shouldn't be that difficult. The hardest part will be to time it so that you shoot him with the antidote at approximately the same time as one of the gunshots. At that point I'll be distracted by the assassination, and I'll just think I got bumped in the chaos."
"And you see nothing wrong with this plan."
"Nope!" The Doctor grinned.
"Of course not," Mickey said sarcastically. "After all, what could possibly go wrong?"
Mickey rounded a corner and stopped short. The bulk of the crowd was several blocks ahead. From where he stood, he could barely make out the Book Depository.
"Bloody hell," he said under his breath, and took off at a jog. So much for staying inconspicuous.
As he neared the Plaza, he stopped and scanned the crowd, trying to get his bearings. He froze. In the distance he could see two figures on the knoll. The sun glinted off what he knew were a pair of opera glasses. As the Mickey on the hill turned in his direction, he ducked behind a tall, thin man—short greying hair, skin slightly darker than Mickey's own—dressed somewhat formally, wearing a suit and tie similar to Mickey's TARDIS-provided one.
In his rush to hide, Mickey accidentally bumped him.
The man turned, a look of apprehension on his face. As soon as he spotted Mickey, however, his expression lightened, then turned into a frown. He looked down over his glasses at him, and Mickey had a flash of memory, of his own grandfather looking at him the same way when he was very young and had been especially naughty.
Mickey flashed him an uncomfortable smile. "Uh, sorry, sir."
The man raised an eyebrow. "British, eh? You're far from home."
Mickey nodded, glancing around the older man. The crowd was growing so thick it was difficult to see farther than the first few people ahead of him.
"Here to see the American president?" the man continued.
"Yes, sir," he answered, surreptitiously scanning the crowd and wondering how he could get away without being rude. He didn't need the Doctor's fabled time sense to know that the amount of time he had to find the other Doctor and get into place behind him was running out.
"Wise boy. He's a great man, gonna do great things, mark my words. But why you hidin', son?"
"It's just…" Mickey's mind desperately searched for an excuse, any excuse.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a girl in a yellow dress. For some odd reason, she looked familiar. Suddenly he realized he'd seen her the first time he and the Doctor had been here. She was standing on the edge of the same group of girls she'd been with earlier, near a man built like brick wall. He was as wide as he was tall and appeared to be made of pure muscle. The two of them were only standing next to one another on the crowded pavement, but it would be easy to assume they were together.
Inspiration struck.
"It's just my ex-girl is over there with her new boyfriend," he lied, jerking his head in the direction of the couple. "Didn't want them to see me."
The man glanced over at them and then turned back. He adjusted his glasses, giving Mickey a look of sympathy. "Makes sense, scrawny little thing like you. But you need to stand up for yourself. Hold your head up high. You got nothin' to be ashamed of, particularly on a day like today. Times are a'changin'."
Mickey thought somberly about what was going to happen here in a matter of minutes.
"Yes, sir," he said with a quick nod.
Another cheer rose in the distance, this one louder than the last. The motorcade was getting closer. As the older gentleman turned toward the sound, craning his neck to see over the people in front of him, Mickey took the opportunity to dart away, hoping the unexpected delay wouldn't prevent him from finding the Doctor in time.
~oOo~
The Doctor trotted down the street, scanning for the TARDIS with his sonic screwdriver. He'd identified the traces of two TARDISes in addition to his own, one several blocks to the south, and another a quarter of a mile in the opposite direction.
He stopped and waved the sonic again to verify his readings. As he could have predicted, in the excitement generated by the presidential motorcade, no one paid him the slightest attention. After debating with himself for less than a second, he rushed off in the direction of the closer TARDIS.
But as he neared the location of the TARDIS, he began to panic. The area looked familiar. He rounded a corner to enter a narrow alley. And recognized where he was. After all, he and Mickey had been there only a few days earlier.
The TARDIS in front of him was the wrong TARDIS.
He yanked his hair and let out a frustrated growl. Time was ticking away and he'd wasted precious minutes going the wrong direction. He tore out of the alley, and skirting the growing crowd, he dashed off in the direction of the third TARDIS.
~oOo~
Mickey anxiously scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar leather jacket and trying to avoid being spotted by his earlier self and the earlier pinstriped Doctor.
As someone moved forward, closer to the curb, he saw a glint of light out of the corner of his eye. Turning toward it, he then caught a glimpse of black leather. He sighed in relief.
The Doctor was only about fifteen feet away, and the flash of light he'd seen was sunshine reflecting off the sonic screwdriver. In a rush, he remembered that from up on the hill he'd seen the Doctor scan the area with it the last time he was here.
"Got him!" he whispered.
Just then another cheer went up, this time all around him. Mickey turned back around to face the street.
The motorcade was rounding the corner.
"Oh, no," he said under his breath.
He turned back and tried to force his way through the crowd in the direction of the Doctor.
Behind him, a shot rang out. And then another.
People began to scream and push forward, blocking Mickey's way. But it didn't matter. It was too late. He'd lost his chance.
He saw the Doctor move away from the curb and disappear into the crowd.
Mickey huffed in frustration. "Guess it's time for Plan B."
He glanced over his shoulder at the grassy knoll. The police were beginning to swarm up the hill. An odd chill ran down his spine as he watched himself and the other Doctor run away.
"Can this day get any weirder?" he muttered to himself, and turned back to follow the Doctor.
~oOo~
The Doctor sprinted down the street, his trainers thudding on the pavement, hyperaware of the seconds ticking away.
He had to get to the other TARDIS before his previous self did.
He'd suggested Plan B only as an absolute last resort, only to be used in an emergency because the result was so unpredictable.
In the distance, he heard the crack of a gunshot, closely followed by another. The sounds echoed off the nearby buildings. People began screaming.
He put on speed.
~oOo~
"What if it doesn't work?" Mickey asked.
The Doctor sighed, a heavy exhalation of breath, and ran his hands through his hair. Random chunks stood straight up while others shot out the sides of his head, making him look a bit like a character from some Japanese manga Mickey had read.
"As a last resort." The Doctor shook a finger at Mickey. "And only as a last resort, we catch him and explain the situation to him. And hope he cooperates."
Mickey shoved his way through the crowd. Ahead, possibly a little further away than the length of a football pitch, he spotted the Doctor he was following striding down the street.
"Doctor!" he shouted.
The Doctor didn't appear to have heard him as he continued down the street without stopping, without even looking around at the sound of his name.
"Mickey!"
At the sound of his own name, he turned to see his own Doctor running towards him.
"Mickey, we need to catch him! Run!"
They both ran flat out, the Doctor with his longer legs overtaking him and shooting ahead. Mickey trailed behind as the Doctor dashed down the street.
"Doctor!" the Doctor shouted. "Doctor, stop!"
As the back of his mind registered the oddity of the Doctor calling someone else by his own name, Mickey spotted the familiar shape of the TARDIS in the distance. The leather-clad Doctor was already there. He let himself in. Seconds later, Mickey heard the sound of the TARDIS engines start up.
The Doctor in front of him slowed to a stop, allowing Mickey to catch up to him. Together they watched the TARDIS fade away.
"Now what?" Mickey asked breathlessly. "Plan C?"
"Yep," the Doctor said.
"So what is Plan C?"
"I'll let you know as soon as I think of it."
~oOo~
"You've got to be kidding me," said Mickey.
The Doctor rushed around the console. "Got a better idea?"
"Couldn't we try to find you on the Estate, when we first met you?"
The Doctor shook his head as he stopped to crank an iron wheel which in turn moved a series of brass gears attached to an escapement lever. Then he ran to the opposite side of the console and flipped a series of switches, turning on the dimensional controls. A corresponding series of lights lit up on the control panel.
"There isn't enough time. Hold this down." He gestured at a button on the panel adjacent to the one with the switches.
Mickey moved to press the button. "But you've got a time machine."
After staring in the monitor for a moment, the Doctor darted back to the opposite side of the console and set the temporal stabilizer.
"This is one time even the TARDIS can't make a difference. I wasn't on the Estate that long, and most of the time I was with Rose. If we were a few minutes off—or even a few seconds—we could accidentally prevent Rose from ever traveling with me. Or we could prevent me from even meeting her at all. And I don't need to tell you what would have happened if he hadn't met her in the basement at Henrik's. If he'd been even a few seconds late… well, it doesn't bear thinking about. Okay, stop pressing that button and pull that lever. No, not that one! The red one!"
The Doctor spun back around the console, narrowly avoiding barreling into Mickey.
"No, this is the only way," he insisted as he set the coordinates.
"But the Titanic again?" asked Mickey.
"Can't be helped. But the only way this will work is if we arrive before we get there. We have to find him before we find him. Not only can we not risk running into ourselves, we can't risk changing things. Again. And most importantly, we absolutely cannot prevent ourselves from finding him when we found him last time."
He glanced up at Mickey. "Got it?"
Mickey stared back blankly. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. He shook his head. "Never mind, I don't want to know."
With a wide grin, the Doctor gently pulled on a lever.
The console room was immediately filled with the shriek of protesting engines. The light emanating from the roundels turned an angry orange, and the time rotor began to stutter and jerk, its glow shifting from its normal blue-green to indigo.
From deep within the bowels of the ship came the low toll of the Cloister bell.
The Doctor grabbed the mallet from its place hanging off the edge of the console. He hit the controls several times as hard as he could.
"Come on, old girl, you can do it!" he yelled, barely able to hear his own voice over the cacophony.
In response, the walls began to shake. Bits of coral broke loose from the ceiling.
"Isn't this where we came in?" Mickey hollered.
The whole room lurched, throwing them both onto the metal grating that made up the floor. The tolling of the bell grew louder.
Still holding the mallet, the Doctor sprang to his feet.
"Come on, come on, come on, you know how important this is!" he shouted.
He gave the TARDIS one final whack on the control console.
The shaking stopped, as did the toll of the Cloister bell. The engines quieted to a low hum. The roundel lights returned to their normal soft yellow.
The time rotor, again glowing a peaceful blue-green, smoothly glided up and down.
"Ha!" the Doctor crowed in triumph. He grinned at Mickey, who was still picking himself up from the floor. "Let's try this again. Hang on!"
In a landing that in the end was far too smooth after the chaos of the previous attempt, the TARDIS materialized at the top of the dock. As they left the ship, the Titanic was to their right; the White Star Terminal, dwarfed by the enormous ship, was farther down the dock and to their left.
Long queues of passengers waiting to board stretched down the dock. But there were far fewer people than there should have been. The Doctor's stomach clenched in out-and-out terror.
"Oh, no no no no no no no," he said, yanking on his hair again.
"What's wrong?" asked Mickey.
The Doctor turned and took off at a run, headed away from the dock area.
"Come on!" he shouted over his shoulder.
Within minutes, they reached the spot where his previous self's TARDIS had been parked.
The spot was empty.
"Where is it?" Mickey asked, looking up and down the road. "Are we too early?"
"No," the Doctor replied. "We're too late. He's been and gone. That's why the landing was so smooth. We're not here anymore."
"Now what? We try to catch him back at the Estate before he meets Rose?"
"No. I told you. Too much of a risk."
"So do we get back in the TARDIS and try to get here earlier?"
"We can't," the Doctor snapped. "We already tried, and the TARDIS wouldn't let us. That's why we're here now."
"So you're just gonna give up?"
Gritting his teeth and scratching the back of his head, the Doctor said under his breath, "Maybe we can get away with just two doses… No, wait. Wait wait wait wait wait… Maybe if I… Could work. But it could be too soon. Might not work at all. Still, if there's a chance…"
He turned and sprinted back in the direction of the dock. Behind him, he could hear Mickey begin to follow.
"Wait! What's going on?"
"Hurry up, Mickey! We've got to catch him before he gets on the ship!"
"Who?"
Once he was back on the dock, the Doctor slowed to a stop and scanned the area anxiously. After a moment, Mickey joined him, breathing heavily.
"Who are we looking for?" he asked.
"Me," the Doctor answered.
"But I thought you said you'd already left."
"Not that me. The other me."
He caught a glimpse of a brown velvet coat and shoulder-length chestnut hair in a queue halfway down the dock. "There I am! With Charley in the second-class queue! We've got to hurry!"
He took off again, calling to his other self, not waiting for Mickey to follow. "Doctor! Doctor! Wait!"
At the sound of his name, both his younger self and Charley turned.
He caught up to them, panting despite his respiratory bypass.
Charley's face lit up. "John, I thought you'd left! Doctor, this is the man I was telling you about. He's a reporter covering the Titanic's maiden voyage."
The younger Doctor grinned at him. "Hello, I'm the Doctor. Charley said your name is John?"
The Doctor yanked on his ear and grimaced. "Charley, I'm sorry. I lied to you. My name's not John. Actually I'm… the Doctor."
By this time Mickey had joined them. The younger Doctor turned to him. He tilted his head, frowning speculatively.
"You're… a long way from home, aren't you?"
"Not that far," Mickey answered, clearly uncomfortable with the scrutiny. "South London."
"London's not that far from here, Doctor," Charley interjected.
"No no no no, not in place," the younger Doctor said thoughtfully. "But in time. You're not in your correct time. But you…" He turned to the Doctor. His eyes narrowed. "You can't be me. I'm not getting anything from you. And if you were me, I should be."
"Oh! I forgot!" The Doctor pulled the telepathic dampers from his ears and shoved them in his pocket. "Better?"
The younger Doctor's face cleared. He grinned. "Hello, Doctor."
"Wait a minute," Charley said. "How can he be you?"
"I've told you about regeneration, Charley," her Doctor said.
"Sure would've been nice if we'd been warned about regeneration," Mickey muttered. The Doctor ignored him.
"My, you're very tall now, aren't you, Doctor?" Charley said, looking up at him. The Doctor wasn't sure if she were addressing him or his previous self. He supposed it didn't matter either way.
"Why are you here?" his younger self asked him.
The Doctor glanced around. The people both in front and behind them in the queue were staring at them curiously.
"Not here," he said in a low voice.
"Your TARDIS or mine?"
"Mine's closer."
The group—Charley, Mickey, and the two Doctors—left the queue and headed up the dock.
Charley turned to Mickey.
"Charlotte Pollard," she said, holding out her hand. "Charley to my friends. And any friend of the Doctor is a friend of mine."
Mickey shook her hand, grinning. "Mickey Smith."
"So, you're the Doctor's current companion?"
"Not exactly…"
Having reached the TARDIS, the Doctor pulled out his key, unlocked the door and went inside. The others followed.
"Oh!" Charley exclaimed upon entering. She stared around herself, wide-eyed.
The younger Doctor wandered around the room, taking in the raw coral struts, the floor's metal grating, the torn and taped jump seat.
He cleared his voice. "I see you've changed the desktop."
The Doctor arched an eyebrow. "And?"
"This… probably wouldn't have been my first choice," his younger self said diplomatically.
"It's…it's…" Charley began, a pained expression on her face.
"Charley…" her Doctor scolded. "This is still the TARDIS. Be nice."
"Yes. Yes, of course." She put on a fake smile. "It's very… original. Quite unique."
The Doctor shot her a look.
"Why? What does yours look like?" asked Mickey curiously.
"Not like this," she answered. "Much more—"
"Well, now that we're here, Doctor," interrupted the younger Doctor. "Would you mind telling us why you're here?"
He scratched the back of his neck absently. "It's kind of a long story."
"Well then, shall we…"
"Uh, probably not a good idea."
"Why not?"
"Well," he said slowly, "there are things that you shouldn't know. Things you can't know."
"Aren't there always? Never stopped us before. Besides, I'm going to have to forget all this anyway."
"This is different."
"How?"
"Well, if I told you that, then you'd know."
"Mickey, do you have any earthly idea what they're talking about?" asked Charley in a stage whisper.
"Nope," Mickey answered, not bothering to lower his voice. "But then again, the Doctor usually doesn't make any sense. If he started to make sense, then I'd be worried."
"Very true."
Both Doctors turned towards them.
"Oi!" they said as one, identical scowls on their faces.
Charley giggled.
"We're wasting time," the younger Doctor said, turning back to him. "Charley and I need to get on the ship."
"You really don't," the Doctor answered. "Already been sorted."
"Really?" Charley asked hopefully.
Giving her a soft smile, the Doctor winked. "Yep. All taken care of."
"Oh, that's a relief," she said.
"Getting back to why we're here…" his younger self said.
The Doctor stared at the younger Doctor, considering. Then he shook his finger at him. "There are some things you can't see."
"Yes, yes, closed door, blah blah blah."
"No, not just a closed door. An iron door. Chained with a padlock. And deadlock sealed." He glared at his younger self. "I'm warning you. Don't go poking around."
"When would I ever… Don't answer that."
The Doctor scowled at his other self for a moment. Then he sighed heavily, giving in. "All right then."
The younger Doctor nodded and closed his eyes. After a moment, he closed his own.
"Contact," they said as one.
"Oh, oh. The Daleks!" the younger Doctor said as he scanned the relevant memories. "And he was here? And Dallas—I suppose I could understand that, but still, that's quite a risk. Why would I… Oh, right. Behind the door." He sighed, clearly disappointed the information was not forthcoming. And then, "Oh… Seriously? Krakatoa?"
"I don't suppose you know what he's talking about now," Charley said.
"Actually, I do," Mickey told her wearily. "Lived it. And bought the T-shirt."
"Well, if that's all, then we should…" the younger Doctor began. "Wait a minute. What's that?"
"I told you not to poke around…"
"But it's in the same time stream, and it's not behind the door. And it seems very important. But it's so… shadowed." He paused. "What is that?"
"There's nothing there," the Doctor said.
"Oh, but there is! And for some reason you can't remember it… Can't even see it, can you? There's a girl. There's something about her… Oh. Oh! Blimey! I didn't think we'd ever… but I suppose if we did, it would be with her, wouldn't it? Rose, her name is Rose. No…" He paused, then continued at a whisper so quiet the Doctor barely heard him. "Bad Wolf."
"All right! That's it!" the Doctor said, cutting the connection and shoving the other out of his mind. At the abrupt break, both of them winced and rubbed their temples.
"Sorry," the younger Doctor said. "But it seemed important. And you really don't remember?"
"Remember what?" the Doctor asked. "There was nothing there."
"But Doctor," Mickey said. "You said yourself you couldn't—"
"I don't get it. It's all right there, so close to the surface. Maybe you'll remember after you give me the jab," the younger Doctor mused.
"Remember what?" the Doctor demanded.
"Well, if you don't know, I'm certainly not going to tell you," his other self informed him.
"Well, that's really mature," the Doctor said irritably.
"Takes one to know one," the younger Doctor snapped.
"Doctor!" Charley interjected. "Doctors!" They both turned to her. "So why are we here?"
"Charley, my older self has somehow managed to get himself poisoned with a time toxin. Twice. Him, and the him between me and him. And the TARDIS too. And with a toxin that doesn't exist yet, not for me at any rate. And it seems the only way to fix the situation is to use the antidote to inoculate me and my TARDIS."
"Well, it's a little more complicated than that, but yeah, that's the general gist," the Doctor said, yanking on his ear again.
"You really do have a lot of nervous tics, don't you?" the younger Doctor observed.
"Oi," the Doctor protested. "I don't criticize your hair."
"What's wrong with my hair?" the other Doctor demanded indignantly.
"Well, if you don't know, I'm certainly not going to tell you," the Doctor said mockingly.
"Doctors!" Charley and Mickey shouted.
With a final glare at each other, the Doctors huffed, then sighed.
"Happens every time we get together, doesn't it?" the younger Doctor asked.
"Yep," he said.
"Then it's a good thing it doesn't happen very often," Charley said. "It doesn't happen very often, does it?"
"Nope."
"Do you always do that popping thing when you say words ending with a p?" his other self asked.
The Doctor chuckled. "Yep."
The younger Doctor looked at him, considering. Then he shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose it could be worse."
"Has been worse. Remember the celery?"
The other Doctor laughed. He slipped his coat off and laid it over one of the railings surrounding the console. Then he rolled up his sleeve. "Better get this over with."
"Mickey," the Doctor said, holding out his hand.
Mickey stared at him blankly for a moment. Then his face cleared.
"Oh, yeah!" He reached into his trouser pocket, pulled out the injector, and handed it to the Doctor.
The Doctor injected his other self in the upper arm with a dose of the antidote.
"Ow!" the younger Doctor cried. He rubbed his arm vigorously. "Don't remember the injector hurting so much."
"Oops, I forgot! I set it to inject through clothes."
"We were going to try to give the other Doctor a jab in Dallas without him knowing," Mickey added.
The younger Doctor raised an eyebrow. "And do I need to ask how well that worked?"
"Probably not," the Doctor answered. "It worked about as well as you'd expect."
"So, not at all," he said, rolling down his sleeve and slipping his coat back on.
"Nope."
"Now that I've had the inoculant, do you remember anything about that shadowy area I saw in your mind?"
The Doctor shook his head. "No."
"Perhaps after the final dose."
"Let's hope so," he said under his breath. His younger self gave him a knowing glance.
But knowing… what exactly? What had his younger self seen?
Well, hopefully he'd find out eventually. Maybe after the final dose of antidote, like his younger self had suggested. He was probably right, the Doctor thought. After all, he was brilliant. In every incarnation.
"Now what?" Charley asked.
The Doctor rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a vial containing a viscous greenish-yellow liquid. He held it up and grinned.
The other Doctor grinned back. Then he turned to Charley. "Now we inoculate my TARDIS."
~oOo~
The walk back to his TARDIS was uneventful. Charley led the way, accompanied by Mickey. They were deep in conversation.
"They seem to be comparing notes." He gestured to their companions. "Probably on the care and feeding of Time Lords," he added dryly.
The older Doctor snorted. "Could be worse. You should have seen Rose and Sarah Jane together. Didn't get along at first but then they were thick as thieves. At our expense."
"How is Sarah Jane?" he asked as they entered the alley where his TARDIS was parked.
"Oh, you know Sarah Jane," his older self answered. "Same as always. Absolutely brilliant." Then he stopped short. He clutched his chest, gasping in pain.
The Doctor gave him a concerned look. "How long's that been going on?"
"Since this all started," the other Doctor answered through gritted teeth. He rubbed his shoulder. "Thought it would be better by now."
"After two doses, it should be. Unless of course…"
"It's caused by something else," his other self finished. He exhaled slowly. The look of pain on his face slowly disappeared. "Yeah, thought of that."
They slowly finished the short walk to the TARDIS where Charley and Mickey were waiting for them.
"Don't you have a key?" Mickey was asking.
"Of course not," Charley answered. "The Doctor doesn't hand out keys to the TARDIS."
"Rose has one," Mickey told her.
"Oh, well, she would, wouldn't she?" the Doctor answered, remembering what he'd seen in the older Doctor's mind.
"What does that mean?" Charley demanded indignantly.
Instead of answering, he unlocked the door.
This time it was Mickey who was clearly shocked by what he saw.
"Wow," he said. He wandered through the console room, touching things and shaking his head in disbelief. "Wow."
"Too bad your TARDIS doesn't have an intake valve for liquids," the older Doctor said.
"We'll need to jerry rig something," the Doctor answered.
They both removed their jackets and hung them on the coat rack before climbing under the console.
"Different, isn't it?" Charley said to Mickey.
"Wow," Mickey said again. "Really, really posh. Look at all the wood paneling. And the bookcases. And the statues. And the console!" He grinned at her. "Got a bit of a steampunk vibe goin' on. I like it."
"What's steampunk?" Charley asked.
Mickey gestured around him. "You're lookin' at it." He nodded. "Wish Rose could see this."
"Me too," both Doctors answered as one as they climbed out from under the console.
The older Doctor grabbed his pinstriped jacket off the coat rack and slipped it on.
"Ready, Mickey?"
"That's it?" he asked.
"Yep!"
"You're kidding!"
"Nope!"
"So we can go home now?"
"Yep!" The other Doctor grinned so widely it looked like his face was at risk of splitting in two.
"All right!" Mickey yelled, punching the air.
The Doctor smiled, watching the two of them. From what he'd seen in the other's memories, they'd had quite the ordeal over the past few days.
"Doctor," he said. He held out his hand to his older self. "A pleasure as always."
"I think you mean 'for a change'," the other Doctor said, shaking it.
The Doctor laughed. "Perhaps."
"Now don't forget," the older Doctor said. "We weren't here."
"I know," he answered. He turned to the other Doctor's companion and held out his hand. "Mickey Smith, I look forward to meeting you. It's been a pleasure."
"You won't say that when you do meet me," Mickey answered with a laugh as they shook.
"Charley, it was wonderful to see you again." The older Doctor enveloped her in an enormous hug. "And I'm sorry," he said as he let her go. "I'm so sorry."
As they walked out the door, the Doctor said, "Good luck, Doctor."
The other Doctor turned and gave him a casual salute before continuing down the alley.
After the Doctor closed the door of the TARDIS, Charley turned to him.
"What did that other you mean when he said he was sorry?"
"It must be because… I'm sorry, Charley, but to preserve the timelines, we have to forget this ever happened."
"How on Earth could I forget this?" she asked. "Meeting another you, seeing another TARDIS…"
The Doctor could see the moment realization struck.
"Oh. You have to take my memories away." She frowned. Then a look of determination crossed her face. "All right. If you have to, you have to. Let's get on with it then."
That's what he liked best about her, he thought. When confronted with a difficult situation, she faced it head on. Regardless of what she felt about it.
The Doctor moved towards her. With a sigh of resignation, he placed his fingertips on her temples. She closed her eyes.
"Just one question, though, before you do it," she said. "Have you ever done this to me bef…"
Her voice trailed off.
He dropped his hands.
Charley stood there, eyes closed, in a light trance.
He closed his own eyes, but before wiping his memories he thought about what he'd learned about his future from his mental contact with the other Doctor. His mouth twisted into a smile. "Rose," he said, "whoever you are, I look forward to meeting you."
The Doctor's eyes slowly opened. Charley stood in front of him, eyes closed.
Feeling a sudden wave of vertigo, he stumbled.
"What? Weren't we just on the dock?" he said, more than slightly disoriented. He paused for a moment, trying to get his bearings. "Wait a minute... We're in the TARDIS! Charley!"
Charley, breathing evenly and with her eyes tightly shut, appeared to be sleeping. Odd. He'd never known her to sleep standing up.
He quickly scanned the console room. To his relief, everything seemed normal. Well, only if you stretched the definition of normal to mean 'something not normal at all'. It was far from normal to suddenly find yourself in the TARDIS when you thought you were somewhere else entirely.
He rushed to the monitor on the console. "A teleport maybe? But who has a teleport in early twentieth century England? And why would they teleport us to the TARDIS?" He examined the readings thoughtfully. "No sign of a teleport. Hmm. No sign of anything unusual at all."
He crossed back to Charley and snapped his fingers in front of his companion's face. "Charley! Charley! Wake up!"
She opened her eyes, then gave him a puzzled look. "Doctor? What… The TARDIS! However did we get here? Last thing I remember we were in a queue on the dock."
"I don't know. And the TARDIS wasn't particularly helpful either," he told her. He closed his eyes again, thoroughly searching his recent memories. "What?"
"What what?"
He opened his eyes and stared at her. "I have a gap in my memories of approximately half an hour."
"Half an hour!" Charley stared at him wide-eyed. "But that means… What does that mean?"
"It means half an hour ago we were on the dock, waiting to get on the ship, but then something happened and we ended up here instead. We need to figure out what happened."
"There's no time for that now!" she protested. "We need to get back to the Titanic!"
As much as he loved a tantalizing mystery, some things were more important.
"You're right, Charley. It can wait. We need to find your family and get them off that ship."
"Yes. And quickly. We certainly don't want to get stuck onboard a doomed ship."
The Doctor thought about the Titanic's fate, about how it would sink in icy waters in a matter of days. He'd hate to be aboard when that happened.
"No," he said to her as they made their way out of the TARDIS. "That's the last thing we want to do."