"Manussan geno-chelation."
The Doctor placed the vial gently, almost reverently, on the table. Grant eyed it warily.
"Developed by one of the most scientifically advanced civilizations in the history of the universe."
"Really? Then why's it got the hospital symbol on the vial?"
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "They have a thing for snakes. Anyway. Each dose is customized for species of intended use. It identifies nonindigenous genetic mutations, repairs them at the cellular level." He gestured as he spoke, eyes alight with the glee of explaining something complex and wondrous. "It then flushes the causal agent of those mutations from the patient's body, via the digestive tract. I've managed to acquire a single dose. For human use, obviously."
"So you're saying… I drink this, and my powers will go away?"
"Not only that; the gemstone will finally pass!"
Grant felt uneasy. He didn't like the way the Doctor leaned over the vial, eyes alight, hands poised in front of him like claws. He looked like a scavenging bird…
And he was scavenging Grant for the gemstone. Grant was sure of it. After all, if this was only about removing his superheroic burden, he could just stop using his powers. God knows he had enough practice at that.
"Why do you want the gemstone?" he asked.
"Same as I told you two months ago: to restabilize the time field around New York."
"That was twenty-four years ago."
The Doctor scoffed. "Yeah, for you maybe."
"Okay. So, what's so special about New York?"
Nardole set down his raspberry crown and piped up. "Well, you see, his wife-"
"Shut up." The Doctor fixed Nardole with a glare that could kill small prey.
"I just think he'd be more sympathetic if he knew-"
"That's exactly why you need to shush," snapped the Doctor. "This should be Grant's decision only. Unencumbered by the needs of others."
As Grant took the vial, he wondered to himself, Is there such a thing? A major decision unencumbered by the needs of others?
He thought of all the people he'd rescued over the past nine years. Especially the kids. But then he thought of Lucy and Jennifer. What would happen to them if the mob figured out who the Ghost was? Or those creeps at Harmony Shoal?...
Then again, what if he got rid of his superpowers, and then the baddies discovered his alter-ego anyway?...
But wouldn't it be nice to finally stop tamping himself down all the time, stop hiding, stop feeling like a freak?...
Sensing the tension in the room, Jennifer began to fuss and squirm in her highchair. Nardole clucked soothingly and scooped her onto his hip. The Doctor sat and watched Grant think.
"I'm assuming," said Grant, "that if I take this, my powers are gone permanently."
"Yes. Well, unless you swallow the stone again, in the same mindset as the first time."
"Will it hurt?"
"I, ah-" the Doctor blanched. "The vendor didn't say. But he did assure me that it won't kill you."
Grant groaned, took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's gonna hurt."
"What makes you say that?"
"People don't say 'don't worry, this won't kill you' unless it's really gonna hurt."
The Doctor grabbed a croissant and sat back to ponder this. Jennifer's fussing kicked up a notch. Grant stood and took Jennifer from Nardole. With his free hand, he slipped the vial into the pocket of his flannel shirt.
"I'll think about it."
The Doctor's brows leapt out of their furrow, his whole expression opening with relief. "Thank you, Grant. That's all I ask. Well, that, and could you have an answer for me within the next day or so? I really do need to get home to my wife."
And with that, he and Nardole gathered themselves and left. Whether to investigate Harmony Shoal, or to engage in some other time-and-space hijinks, Grant had no idea. They left the uneaten pastries behind as a kind of thank-you. That was nice at least.
As he tended Jennifer that day, Grant had a lot to think about. But one question kept bouncing into his mind, no matter how many times he volleyed it off as irrelevant.
What sort of woman would marry Dr. Mysterio?
By that evening, Grant had made a decision. Not about the vial of gene-fixing stuff: that was still way too new and weird to have sunk in. But he'd decided to tell Lucy who he really was.
He had it all planned out. Picnic on the roof on a clear June night. Wine and candles. He'd start off the interview/date/whatever-this-was as The Ghost. But he'd be down-to-earth, relatable. Let her know just a little bit of how hard it was to be a superhero. Then, when the time was right, he'd take off the mask, put on his glasses…
It might have actually worked, if those Harmony Shoal goons hadn't barged in to give him a brain transplant. They tried to unmask him in front of Lucy. He panicked and took off. Literally. Into the stratosphere.
He'd already turned around to save her when he heard Mr. Brock ask, "Isn't there a child downstairs?"
That was when the Ghost discovered that, if his adrenaline ran high enough, he had the power to freeze time.
In an instant, he was dressed as Grant again, and crashing through the door to the roof. "Nobody touches that child!"
Clink.
The vial slipped from his shirt pocket and rolled across the concrete, stopping only at the toe of Mr. Brock's Louis Vittons.
Brock sneered, bent down, picked up the vial and threw it off the roof.
But that was the least of Grant's problems, so long as there was a gun pointed at Lucy.
The ground began to shake. A bright light appeared in the sky, then grew larger, closer. And finally, after twenty-four years, Grant heard the voice of his mentor, telling him how to wield his superpowers.
Although he was far too manic to be Mr. Miyagi. More like a Scottish Doc Brown.
Grant! Grant! This is the Doctor! You are the only living thing on Earth that can hear this frequency. Look up! We're coming right at you. If that thing hits the ground, then New York is finished. Over to you!
Grant stopped the bomb. He got the girl. And he completely forgot about the vial until he and Lucy returned from their (first of many) flying makeout sessions.
They found the Doctor waiting for them in the living room with the baby monitor and a carton of pad thai.
"Shh!" he cautioned. "Jennifer's sleeping. Nardole too." He cocked his head towards his colleague snoring upright in a nearby chair.
"Oh… hey." Grant stuffed his hands in his jean pockets. "Uh, you know that stuff you gave me earlier?"
The Doctor set down his food and rose from his chair in one fluid motion. "The Manussan geno-chelation serum."
"Uh, right. That. Brock took it from me and threw it off the roof."
"WH-"
"Shh!"
"what?" the Doctor rasped, strangling a shout. He grabbed his jacket and made for the front door.
"Look, I'm sorry-"
"It's fine. Fine! The vial's made of Vinvocci glass, and the brains don't have the brawn to throw it far. There's a good chance it landed, undamaged, somewhere within a one-block radius."
"But I haven't decided-"
"Don't wait up!" the Doctor called over his shoulder as he ran out.
Grant turned to Lucy. "I can explain."
"Oh, you will." She gently cupped his jaw and kissed him again. "In the morning."
They managed a few hours of sleep, before Jennifer began fussing around dawn. Grant instinctively popped out of bed. Lucy dragged herself up behind him, mumbling about how it would be weird to keep him on as an employee now...
As he dressed, Grant caught snippets of quiet British banter out in the dining room.
"Clever name, though, innit? 'Insomnia Cookies'," Nardole chuckled.
"Yes, well, you'd think they'd have the sense to hire perkier night people for the graveyard shift. The cashier gave me the hairy eyeball for having the audacity to walk in at half-past four."
Grant opened the bedroom door, and immediately realized what it really was about the Doctor that bothered the cashier.
"Phwah!"
"Oh, good morning, Grant! You alright?"
Grant was not alright. His super sense of smell was causing his eyes to water. "You went dumpster-diving for the vial," he choked out.
"I did, yes."
"That wasn't a question."
Nardole pulled the Doctor to him and whispered something in his ear. The Doctor's eyes went wide.
"Oh! Sorry. I usually travel with my own, erm, amenities, but… Might I use your washroom?"
"You'd better!" Lucy appeared in the doorway, pinching her nose shut. "In fact, don't sit anywhere else, don't touch anything else, until you've had a shower. And leave your clothes outside the bathroom; we'll take them down to the laundry."
"Doesn't laundry take two hours in this century?" Nardole asked. "What'll he wear in the meantime?"
The Doctor set down his cookie, rose from the table and gingerly moved to the kitchen doorway. He had his hands up like an apprehended criminal. "Perhaps," he said, almost sounding sheepish, "I could borrow something of Grant's? We're both strapping young men, about the same size."
"Sure," said Grant, although he doubted the Doctor's last statement. He'd remembered the Doctor as a wiry old man. While that was still generally true, he did have the start of a paunch now. Too many cookies and takeout meals, apparently.
It was weird, thinking of this legendary figure from his childhood as a man with a weakness for snacks, a knack for baby care, a wife waiting for him back home. Dr. Mysterio had a life of his own, somewhere out there. Possibly in another century, or on another planet, but still somehow… domestic.
While the Doctor scrubbed off the stench of dumpster, Lucy got Jennifer up for the day, and Grant took the Doctor's clothes to the basement. The household laundry was still technically part of his job duties, after all. He wasn't sure Lucy even knew how to work these clunky, finicky old machines. Personally, he would have taken the Doctor's velvet magician-style jacket to the dry cleaner's if they had more time. But he remembered the Doctor was anxious to get home to his wife.
His wife who, for some reason, wanted the gemstone.
Feeling a twinge of guilt, Grant checked all the Doctor's pockets for the vial. He found nothing.
When he returned upstairs, Nardole was setting the table while Jennifer looked on curiously from her highchair. The Doctor cracked the bathroom door open and asked if Lucy could bring him a hair tie. Lucy seemed amused by that, (Grant didn't know why,) but she obliged. A few moments later, the Doctor joined the rest of them at the dining room table, wearing Grant's Superman hoodie and one of his looser pairs of jeans.
There were a few moments of light chit-chat. Coffee was fetched from the Keurig, sugar was stirred into tea, pears were mushed across the highchair tray when they should have been eaten instead. And then, Lucy set Mr. Huffle on the table.
Oh no.
"So, what were you looking for last night?" she asked the Doctor.
He winced at Mr. Huffle before rolling his eyes. "Long story short, it was a kind of medicine that would have removed Grant's superpowers."
She tightened her arm protectively over Grant's shoulders. "And long story long?"
"It's okay," Grant interjected. "He wasn't forcing me to take it, just offering. The thing is, I got my powers by accident. They came from a gemstone that belonged to the Doctor."
"A gemstone," she repeated, skeptical.
"Not just any gemstone," the Doctor bragged. He was gesturing his explanations again. "The Hassandra: the ghost of love and wishes. An intuitive micro-computer, forged in the heart of a red hole, drawing on the power of the nearest star to-"
"You wanted to give yourself superpowers?" Lucy asked.
"Well, no. The Hassandra doesn't necessarily give you superpowers," the Doctor explained. "It gives you whatever you want the most."
"Huh." Lucy turned and regarded Grant for a second. (They were sitting so close together now. Her eyelashes were lovely.) Then she giggled and ribbed him. "And what you wanted most was to be a superhero?"
"Hey, gimme a break, I was eight years old!"
"He swallowed it," the Doctor grinned.
"You what?"
"I thought it was cold medicine!" Grant protested, but even he was trying hard not to laugh. Jennifer was giggling the hardest of anyone. She kicked her feet against the underside of her highchair tray, then babbled directly at the Doctor, who pretended to answer her.
"Oh I agree, it's quite hypocritical! But to be fair, he does have your best interests at heart. Doesn't want you making the same mistake he did."
He smiled at Grant, open and warm and not at all manic for once. Grant found himself asking, with real concern:
"Did you find the vial?"
"No. I'm afraid it's lost for good."
"I really was considering it," Grant said. "Giving up my powers. The gemstone was yours in the first place. I know you wanted it for your wife. I'm sorry."
Lucy pounced on that. "So, Doctor, what is it that your wife wants the most?"
He shot her a warning look. She squeezed Mr. Huffle. He sighed and looked down at his Nutella toast.
"To visit her parents here in New York."
"Why does she need the gemstone for that?"
"Because we live in the fifty-fourth century, and my in-laws live in the twentieth."
That was enough to give even Lucy pause. She turned to Grant again, her eyebrows halfway up to her hairline. He just nodded.
"So… you guys time-traveled here?"
"We did!" Nardole said brightly. "It's not easy, mind you. New York's such a mess, time-wise. You can only get in and out by vortex manipulator. Nasty little things. Like going from here to Mars in three seconds, in an actual tin can."
"Why can't your wife use one of those?" Grant asked.
"Usually she can, to stunning effect," the Doctor said wryly. Then he tented his fingers and bowed his head towards them, pensive. "But right now, she needs a safer vehicle. A bigger one. One that can't get in and out of New York unless we fix the time distortions."
"I'm sorry."
"Ach, don't worry about it. Your powers might come in handy, now that I won't be hanging around Earth for awhile. Keep an eye on things for me, will you?"
Grant nodded. "Of course. I'd be honored."
"It's alright, Doctor," said Nardole. "Maybe we still have time to think of something else."
Maybe we still have time? Grant felt his stomach drop.
"Doctor, your wife… Is she okay?"
"Pretty sure she's more than okay," Lucy said softly.
The room fell quiet. The Doctor, still leaning over his wringing hands, looked up at Lucy through curious eyebrows.
"She wants to see her own mom before the baby's born, doesn't she?"
The Doctor pushed back from the table, his eyes searching for a spot where they'd be safe from contact with anyone else's. Trying and failing not to smile, he said, "You really are very good at that, you know."
"What, seriously?" Grant asked. The Doctor nodded. "Aww, congratulations! Dr. Mysterio, you old scamp!"
"Don't call me that!"
Lucy hopped up from the table, beaming. "Can you take anything with you when you time travel?"
"As long as we can carry it, yeah," said Nardole.
"Great! I'll give you some hand-me-downs. Oh, and I'll order you some red velvet cupcakes from Common Grounds. I used to crave them like crazy."
The Doctor was starting to blush. "Oh you don't have to-"
"Already done," she grinned, holding up her phone. "Just make sure to spare at least one of the cupcakes from your sympathy cravings, okay?"
The Doctor's face was approaching the color of the Hassandra. Grant's phone buzzed with a timer he'd set. He got up from the table too.
"Where are you going now?" the Doctor groused.
"To switch over the laundry. Gotta get you home to-"
"Professor Song," said Nardole, just as the Doctor snapped, "Mrs. Mysterio as far as you're concerned!"
But when Grant patted him on the shoulder on the way past, the Doctor squeezed his hand.
"Thank you, Grant. For everything."