"A Whole New World"


Chapter 1

"The Space Cowboy, The Gangster of Love"



The bathtub was raised up from the floor on little claw feet. The Doctor was currently immersed in soothingly warm soapy water, thinking about his life… or rather, his lives. He had never been a proper Time Lord, not really… at least he had never behaved like one.
He suddenly recalled with embarrassment a conversation that he'd accidentally overheard early in the life of his first incarnation, when he was fresh out of the Academy. He had taken his mother back to New York to visit her British expatriate parents in their second floor walk-up. She had sat in a warm Brooklyn kitchen sipping tea with Mrs. Weinstein from upstairs and lamenting that she wanted her son to marry a nice virgin girl from the neighborhood. "There aren't any virgins left in the neighborhood, Susan," Mrs. Weinstein had replied acidly. "Your Theta's shtupped them all!"
A bit later in the life of that incarnation, he had sat on the High Council. That exalted position had been terminated abruptly when he'd taken a TARDIS to his mother's planet on a whim and returned with a dark-haired, dark-eyed young woman whom he'd introduced in the language of his mother's people as his wife. That particular episode had ended badly for all involved.
In any event, proper Time Lords didn't marry, much less marry humans. The fact that his own father had done both seemed to escape his critics' notice, probably because his father had been thoroughly mapped out and neatly loomed, rather than conceived in a random mix of genes and birthed in an agonizing (not to mention tastelessly untidy) process.
In his subsequent incarnations (during which he had he had been unencumbered with a wife due to circumstances that he felt were mostly his own fault), he had tried very hard to behave like a proper Time Lord. He felt that he had come closest during his seventh; the irony that it had been this same incarnation who had gone to insanely dangerous lengths to have himself literally transformed into an actual human for a short time did not escape him.
His thoughts turned to his eighth and current incarnation's very un-Time Lord-ish behavior, which he contemplated with something like wonder. On his very first day in this body, he had kissed a stranger… not once but several times. Later, he had had a one-night stand with a traveling companion, certainly a big no-no in his previous incarations' books. He had gotten back together with Tegan – with whom his fifth incarnation had carried on a love affair and unknowingly produced a child (oops!) – and almost immediately screwed it all up beyond repair. And then he had slept with Romana, actually taking her virginity for God's sake.
What on Gallifrey had gotten into him, anyway?
Perhaps there was something inside him that wanted to get out. If so, it looked as though it had finally succeeded in making its escape and was now on the loose, terrorizing the intergalactic community. Lock up your daughters, he thought wryly.
With a sigh, he allowed his head to slip underneath the bubbles for a moment, and then sat up and began to scrub his soapy hair rather harshly.
"Doctor?" he heard Tegan call.
"In here," he called back, and heard approaching footsteps. "You said you never wanted to see my face again," he reminded her. "So I feel I should warn you that if you come in here, you're going to see a lot more than that!" He continued scrubbing his hair with his eyes squeezed tightly shut against the soap.
"Nothing I haven't seen already," he heard her say from the doorway. "Good grief, you're still in the tub," she observed, sounding mildly disgusted. "We're leaving in twenty minutes!" He was surprised on two counts: surprised that she'd somehow gotten into his TARDIS, and surprised that she was speaking to him in a civil tone. Perhaps the three months he'd avoided her had served to mellow her anger somewhat. He could smell her perfume, dark and sexy and heady and familiar. He finished scrubbing his hair and dunked his head under the water to rinse it.
"Don't worry, Tegan," he said when he resurfaced. "I'll be ready in time." He wiped soapy water from his eyes and looked at her. "Good Lord, you look stunning!" She wore a shimmery black knee-length dress that hugged her curves suggestively and yet was cut conservatively enough that the effect was tastefully sexy, rather than trashy and overdone. "How did you get in here?" he suddenly asked.
"I have a key," she reminded him. It was true, he realized. She did have a key. When she had begun traveling with him, he had given her a TARDIS key of her own, and in her haste to depart all those years ago, she had neglected to return it. He looked over to see it dangling from her hand on a little silver chain. "Do you want it back?"
"Not at all," he assured her. He leaned forward and pulled the plug from the drain.
"The limo will be here to pick us up promptly at five," she continued. "So you'd better be ready to go."
"I'll be ready." He reached out a hand to pull the shower curtain around the tub. Tegan heard him stand, and the shower started.
"You're taking a shower too?" she asked, exasperated.
"No, just rinsing the off soap," came the reply, and the shower stopped.
"Are you finished?" she asked. "Because we've really got to get moving – "
"Yes, Tegan… would you mind very much…?"
"Look, I'm trying to have a conversation with you about the schedule for tonight. Don't tell me you're suddenly shy, Doctor. Like I said, it's nothing I haven't seen before!"
"You seem very eager to see it again," he said in a knowing voice.
"You wish!" Behind the shower curtain, he smiled. He'd had enough experience with Tegan to know when he'd hit the nail on the head.
"We're already running late," he reminded her. He lowered his voice to a purr. "Would you like us to be even later?"
"Dream on!" she spat. He heard retreating footsteps, and grinned.


Members of nearly every sentient species talk to themselves, but a Time Lord who has regenerated seven times can transform the habit into an art form.
"Hmm," the Doctor said thoughtfully as he tied the gray cravat around his neck. Upon emerging from his bath, he had looked at his usual tan pants and green velvet coat and decided that this particular evening deserved a change… nothing too drastic, just a little change. So he had found a pair of gray pants, a gray waistcoat with dark blue brocade, and a midnight blue velvet coat
"That's mine!" the voice of his third incarnation said inside his head.
"Now, let's see if all of this matches," the Doctor murmured, pulling on the waistcoat and buttoning it.
"Who cares if it all matches?" he heard his sixth incarnation say inside his head.
"You have no sense of style!" his fourth replied. He pulled on the blue velvet frock coat ("Mine!") and surveyed the final effect in the full-length mirror.
"Not bad," he decided. He put his hands on his lapels and turned sideways, keeping his eyes on the mirror. "Not bad at all."
"I wore a black coat something like that when I took Tegan out in Paris," the rather dry voice of his fifth incarnation said in his mind. "What a lovely night that was, and what a wonderful relationship we had. Too bad you had to muck it all up!"
"Be quiet, would you?" the Doctor told him.
"Even I did a better job with Joan!" Seven put in dryly.
"Oh shut up, you annoying little git!"
"You're a rather rude one, aren't you?" One asked.
"You should talk!" Two told One.
"I mean it... all of you just shut up!" Thankfully, there was no further reply. He headed for the console room, humming under his breath. He glanced up at the viewscreen and saw Tegan waiting for him right outside in Angelina's living room, tapping her foot impatiently. "Some people call me the Space Cowboy," he sang to himself. He had looped the TARDIS keychain around his finger, and now he swung it in a circle as he stepped out of the police box, still singing the Steve Miller song. "Some call me the Gangster of Love. Some people call me Maurice – "
"You don't want to know what I call you," Tegan told him.
"I can only imagine," he agreed with a sigh. He swung the key in one last arc and let it fly free, deftly catching it with his other hand.
"Show off," she grumbled good-naturedly as he pocketed the key.
"You'll be happy to learn that I've gotten much better with the yo-yo as well," he told her with enormous sincerity. At that moment, Angelina walked into the living room, wearing a powder pink dress and clutching her little pink cell phone to her ear. Her long blonde hair was swept up neatly in a French twist with one long curl dangling down by her face.
"I told you, I found it in my mother's jewelry box," she was saying to the person on the other end of the phone. "No, that's all I'm going to say about it. Look, I'll see you at my party in a bit, yeah?" She terminated the connection and smiled. "Editor of British Vogue," she told them in a bit of an apologetic tone. "She wanted to know where I got the necklace I wore on the cover of Vanity Fair last month."
"Would you like it back?" Tegan asked.
"Oh yes, please," Angelina said with a wicked grin. "I think I'll wear it tonight!" Much to the Doctor's surprise, Tegan handed Angelina her TARDIS key on its little silver chain.
"You wore a TARDIS key on a magazine cover?" he asked, astonished. "Oh no!"
"Oh yes!" she replied, fastening the little silver chain around her neck. "And I'm wearing it again next month on the cover of British Vogue. Everyone's been asking about it. You know, I walked through the Village last week and I saw someone selling knockoffs on a street corner!"
"But it's a TARDIS key!" he exclaimed.
"So?" she asked with a shrug. "It's a very unusual shape and I thought, why not wear it? Now everyone's just dying to know where I got it. Why, three different jewelry stores in London are all claiming that I bought it from them!"
"But it's a TARDIS key!" he said again.
"Yeah, I think we've already established that, Doctor," Tegan told him.
"I thought you were trying to keep her origins a secret," he said rather pointedly to Tegan. "Wearing a TARDIS key on the cover of a magazine may not be quite the best way to go about that," he said a bit acidly, sounding very much like his fifth incarnation; he found that happened a lot when he was around Tegan.
"How many people would know what it was?" she asked, sounding exasperated.
"Oh, you might be surprised," he told her in a meaningful tone.
"And you think that Daleks and Cybermen subscribe to Vanity Fair and Vogue, do you?" Tegan asked him sarcastically.
"No, but –"
"Think they want make-up tips?" she continued in the same tone.
"Of course not. But someone else could easily see it. The Rani, for example."
"Who?" Angelina asked, puzzled.
"You don't want to know," the Doctor assured her. He turned his attention back to Tegan. "Look, I simply think – "
"No one cares what you think!" Tegan spat venomously. "It's not as though you were ever around before, is it?"
"Oh yes, throw that in my face again!" he shouted, suddenly angry. "Funny how you always leave out the part where you left without telling me – "
"And what would you have done if I'd told you?" she yelled.
"I would have done something – " he shouted.
"Yeah, just like you did when you finally did find out, right?" Tegan yelled.
"All right you two, that will be quite enough!" Angelina screamed over them at full volume, holding up her arms to form the "t" signal for time out. Tegan and the Doctor fell silent, staring at her with disbelief. "Honestly, I feel like I should have a whistle in my mouth when I'm around you both!" she continued, sounding just as angry as either of her parents. "Now you two listen, and you listen good: it's my twenty-first birthday, and I'll not have the two of you ruining it for me with your stupid arguing. If you can't act like civilized human beings for one night for my sake, then you can both stay the hell away from my party!" The Doctor decided that this probably wouldn't be a good time to remind Angelina that he wasn't a human being, civilized or otherwise… and neither was she, for that matter.
"All right, I'm sorry," he said quietly instead.
"Me too," Tegan said rather sullenly, sounding like a little girl who was being forced by her parents to issue an apology that she didn't really mean. Angelina's deep blue eyes narrowed.
"Kiss and make up," she said.
"Angelina – " Tegan protested.
"Really, there's no need," the Doctor said at the same time.
"Do it," their daughter said with finality. "Now." When neither of them made any move to do so, Angelina sighed. "Right," she said briskly. "I'll be telling them at the door not to admit either of you tonight." She picked up her little multicolored Louis Vuitton handbag and turned to leave. The Doctor sighed.
"Come on, Tegan," he said, sounding resigned.
"Oh, all right," she muttered sulkily. Angelina watched as her mother walked over to the Doctor and gave him a quick peck on the lips.
"Hmm," she said critically. "Well, I suppose it'll do. Now come on, we're going to be late."
"She gets it from you, you know," Tegan muttered at him as they followed her out of the apartment. His eyebrows went up.
"That's funny, I was just thinking about how much she reminds me of you sometimes."
"Irony abounds," Angelina said sardonically, pushing the button for the elevator. "Obviously I've inherited all of the best traits from each of you," she continued, her voice dripping acid. "Aren't I lucky?"
"Come on, that's definitely you Version 5.0," Tegan muttered to the Doctor as they got on the elevator.
"Yeah," he agreed ruefully. "I think you're right."
"Amazing," Angelina said caustically to the ceiling. "They actually agree about something. Quick, call the people at Guinness… it's almost certainly one for the record books."
"Yes, all right!" the Doctor said. "We've got the idea!" Tegan gave him an impish smile.
"Now you see what it was like having to deal with you!" He pretended not to hear.
Angelina's boyfriend, Detective John Munch, was waiting for them when they arrived in the lobby. His salt-and-pepper hair was combed back from his forehead, and he was wearing a long black raincoat over his black suit, blue-gray shirt and dark gray tie. Though he always looked presentable, he was not what anyone would call GQ cover material, and it was not lost on him that thousands of people the world over wondered what the beautiful Angelina saw in this bespectacled thrice-divorced curmudgeon and self-described mensch who was at least thirty years her senior. Not that Angelina particularly cared what anyone thought. Munch made her happy, and as far as she was concerned, that was all that mattered.
"The limo's been here for ten minutes," he told her, feeling a bit self-conscious as she kissed him enthusiastically right there in front of her parents.
"I'm so sorry," she apologized. "I've been playing Ref again with those two," she said, gesturing at the Doctor and Tegan.
"I should've guessed," he said wryly.
"Honestly, they're worse than a couple of toddlers!" she complained. "It's just unbelievable how childish they can be when they put their minds to it."
"You should try sending them to bed without their supper next time," Munch advised.
"That's right, just talk about us like we're not standing right here!" Tegan said a big indignantly. Munch laughed and bent to kiss her cheek, and then shook the Doctor's hand. The detective was still a bit baffled by the Time Lord's willing acceptance of his daughter's unlikely boyfriend, especially since he'd read that the Doctor had once chased a well-known rock singer around the lobby of an exclusive Los Angeles hotel, brandishing a cricket bat and yelling that he (the rock singer) had better stay away from his daughter. Surely, Munch thought, a rock star would be a much more fitting consort for a supermodel than a homicide detective.
"All ready to go?" Angelina asked, breaking his reverie. They went outside where the limo waited. The driver opened the door and handed Angelina and Tegan into the limo, waited for Munch and the Doctor to follow, and then shut the door behind them. They sat facing each other, with Munch and Angelina on one side and her parents on the other. Despite the limo's length, it was quite a tight fit due to the inclusion of a small bar and refrigerator on one side of the car.
"Want a drink?" Munch asked Angelina, brandishing a bottle of champagne he found in the fridge.
"God yes!" she said with feeling as he unwrapped the foil from the top of the bottle. "You don't know what I've been through with those two tonight!"
"All right, I believe we've covered that," the Doctor said a bit tetchily.
"Yes, Five," Tegan told him mildly, and he sighed. Munch gave her a brief puzzled look, and then popped the cork and began pouring drinks.
"I'll have a drink as well," the Doctor told Munch.
"Yeah, I thought you'd need one," Munch agreed.
"I'll have some too," Tegan said. Munch handed her a glass and offered one to the Doctor. As he leaned forward to take it, Tegan caught the faint scent of spice and cloves, patchouli and musk. "You smell awfully good tonight," she told him.
"Thank you." She frowned.
"You never used to wear cologne," she reminded him. He shrugged.
"It's not cologne, it's soap. Angelina gave it to me. It used to belong to someone called Karl Lagerfeld."
"What?" she asked with surprise, unable to imagine their daughter giving someone used soap as a gift.
"It has his name on it," he explained innocently, and Tegan suddenly wondered if he was pulling her leg. Munch held up his champagne glass.
"To the most perfect girl in the world," he said, clinking his glass against Angelina's.
"I'll second that," the Doctor said.
"Me too," Tegan said, clinking glasses with the others. Angelina laughed.
"Hardly that," she said ruefully.
"I read your rider today," Munch told her. Her eyes widened. "Yeah, they posted it on bigsmokingpistol.com."
"Pwha, those nosy bastards!" she said, sounding exasperated.
"What's a rider?" the Doctor asked, sipping his champagne.
"It's… well, it's what I like to have when I'm working, " Angelina said, sipping her champagne and sounding faintly embarrassed.
"A rider is a list of celebrity demands," Munch told the Doctor.
"Yes, but 'demands' sounds so… so… so pretentious and awful!" Angelina said, making a face.
"But that's really what a rider is," Munch reminded her with a smile. "And at least you didn't demand a bowl of M&Ms with a certain color picked out or a pitcher of Colorado spring water with exactly ten ice cubes and four lemon slices, or a supply of baby animals to hug and kiss."
"People really ask for things like that?" the Doctor asked, sounding amazed.
"Yep," Munch confirmed. "Know what's in Angelina's rider?" The Doctor shook his head. Munch smiled. "She wants the studios where she models to be air conditioned to least fifty degrees or lower. And that's it."
"Well, I have to," Angelina said, sounding apologetic about it. "If they set the temperature in there for a normal person's comfort, I absolutely swelter… especially under those hot lights."
"'A normal person's comfort'," the Doctor repeated, looking troubled.
"Oh, you know what I mean!" Angelina said. He opened his mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it and sipped his drink instead.


CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 2, "You're Not Supposed To Be Here!"