"A Whole New World"
ADDITIONAL DISCLAIMER: The song "New York, New York" belongs to Leonard Bernstein.
Chapter 5
"It's A Hell Of A Town!"
The Doctor would be quite relieved to learn that Tegan wasn't angry about his prolonged absence – indeed, she didn't even seem to notice it – nor did she have the slightest bit of curiosity about where he'd been or what he'd been doing. He would be slightly less pleased to learn the reason for this.
Still blissfully unaware of Tegan's lack of ire or the reason for it, he approached the table warily, where he saw Tegan chatting with an older dark-haired woman that he felt he should know. When his brain finally compensated for years gone by and put a name to her face, his eyes widened in surprise.
"Sarah Jane?" he asked, sounding shocked. The two women looked up at him and immediately burst into laughter.
"Oh yes, it's me Doctor!" Sarah Jane agreed, sounding very drunk indeed. She hauled herself to her feet and inspected him carefully. "My, how you've changed!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, several times, actually," he replied absently. He looked down at Tegan. "Tegan, do you think we might – " To his utter astonishment, Sarah Jane cut him off by leaning up and giving him a rather sloppy kiss on the lips. She was quite thorough about it too, putting her arms around his neck and pulling him close to insure that he wouldn't escape until she was completely finished with him.
"I'm sorry, I've been dying to do that for years," she admitted giddily when she finally released him.
"I'm flattered," he murmured, not knowing what else to say. She swayed precariously on her high heels, giggling breathlessly. He caught her elbow when she seemed in danger of falling, steered her gently into her seat, and then sat down next to Tegan.
"Well, Tegan here's told me you know what to do about a woman now, not like when I knew you!" The Doctor looked at the very drunk Tegan in dismay.
"Sorry, Doc," Tegan giggled. "I've had a few drewscrivers while you were gone!"
"We invented a new drink, Doctor," Sarah Jane told him. "In your honor. Orange juice, champagne, Chambord, and vodka. Sonic Screwdrivers!" Tegan picked up a glass of reddish-orange liquid and toasted him with it.
"Oh no," he groaned, putting his head in his hands and imagining the shape the two women would be in the following morning. Their hangovers were sure to be monumental.
"Tegan told me you did it in the Cloisters!" Sarah Jane suddenly exclaimed. She glanced at Tegan. "Weren't those stone benches hard on your back?" she asked curiously.
"It was up against a pillar, actually," Tegan told her. "And yeah, it was a bit hard on the back." The Doctor sighed, picked up Tegan's Sonic Screwdriver and downed half of it. "Hey! That's my drink!" she protested.
"I think you've had enough already, don't you?" he asked rather pointedly. Angelina and Munch suddenly appeared at the table.
"Hello, Lady Sarah," Angelina said.
"Hiya," Sarah Jane replied, waving drunkenly. Tegan exploded into giggles. Angelina shook her head in disgust.
"I don't believe this," she muttered.
"Oh look, it's Drunk and Drunker," Munch said dryly, causing the two women to dissolve into fresh giggles.
"Listen, we've only come over to say goodbye," she told the Doctor. "I know it's my party, but I've really had enough for one night." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you later, all right?" He nodded. "Oh my God!" she blurted out, staring over his head at something on the dance floor.
"What, is it Mick Jagger?" Sarah Jane asked. Angelina shook her head.
"Look," she told the Doctor, pointing. "Your friend's dancing, and not by himself, either!" He turned in his chair to look down at the dance floor where Zeta was dancing with a beautiful brunette model whom he vaguely recognized from a magazine cover that Angelina had once pointed out to him. The other partygoers had cleared the floor for the two dancers, who were going at it quite enthusiastically.
"Those two should get a room," Munch said, closely echoing the thoughts of many of the other people watching. Down on the dance floor, Zeta ran his hands up the sides of the girl's body, and then pulled her against him. He looked down into her eyes as they moved their bodies together in a very suggestive manner and he sang along with the Rolling Stones:
Ride like the wind at double speed
I'll take you places that you've never never seen!
Start it up, love the day when we will never stop never stop
Never never never stop!
Start me up, I'll never stop never stop
You, you, you'd make a grown man cry
You, you'd make a dead man come
"Oh dear," the Doctor murmured. He picked up Tegan's glass and finished off the rest of her Sonic Screwdriver.
The sound of the TARDIS dematerializing woke Tegan from her fitful sleep. She groaned, throwing her arm over her eyes. She tried to go back to sleep, but her head was pounding and her mouth was dry. She glanced at the clock: 5:19 AM. Thank God I don't have to work today, she thought, sitting up carefully and watching as the room spun. She blinked, and the sensation dissipated. She got to her feet and wobbled unsteadily to the bathroom, cursing herself for her part in inventing a drink called the Sonic Screwdriver, and cursing herself again for stupidly drinking so damn many of them the previous night.
Frank carefully backed the delivery truck into the alley.
"There better be somebody here this time," Jim groused. "I ain't takin' all this beer back to the warehouse again just so's the guy who owns this joint can bust my balls about not gettin' his beer delivery."
"It was his own fault," Frank reminded his partner with a shrug. "No one was here to sign for it." He opened the door and jumped down out of the truck, hearing Jim do the same. Walking to the back of their truck, they suddenly saw the front of a dumpster swing open. To their astonishment, a beautiful brunette woman whose face they'd seen on magazine covers and in lingerie ads on billboards in Times Square skipped out, shouldering her purse and beaming happily at the deliverymen.
"Hey, guys," she chirped cheerfully. "How's it going?" Too stunned to answer, they watched her go. She let her purse slide down her arm, catching and swinging it jubilantly by its handle as she exited the alley with a spring in her step and a satisfied smile on her face. They jumped in surprise as a strange sound filled the alley, spinning around just in time to see the dumpster fade into nothingness. The deliverymen exchanged a look.
"Whaddya know," Frank finally said. Jim broke into a huge grin.
"New York, New York, it's a hell of a town!' he sang as they headed for the back door of the club in search of someone to sign for the beer order.
Tegan finally noticed the envelopes when she returned from the bathroom. They were carefully placed on the pillow next to hers. The top one had Tegan's name written across it in familiar handwriting. For some reason, she felt a cold chill of dread go down her back at the sight of it. She forced herself to go over and pick it up, noting that the one beneath it was addressed to Angelina. Her sense of dread increased, and she frantically tore the envelope open and yanked the enclosed letter out, sinking down on the edge of the bed to read.
My Dear Tegan, the letter began.
I'm sorry I didn't wait until you were awake to tell you goodbye in person; I was worried if I did I wouldn't be able to leave, which I'm afraid I must do… as little as you will probably like it.
I promise I'm not running out on you or Angelina. There is nothing I would like more in the Universe than to be able to stay in New York with you both (for as long as you'd be able to tolerate me anyway!) especially since I think you and I reached a bit of an understanding last night. Unfortunately, it appears that life has other plans for me.
I wish I had time to write down all of the things I want to say, but I have to leave as soon as possible and truthfully I'm not sure I'd know where to begin. I may be more human in this body (as I told you a few months ago), but I'm afraid I really haven't gotten much better at expressing my feelings. There's just too much to say and not enough time for me to figure out how to say it, so this will have to suffice. I love you, Tegan. I loved you in my fifth and I've never stopped loving you.
I hope to see you soon, when you can return to me the other two envelopes I've left there on that pillow. I am as always optimistic and believe that there's little chance you'll get word from Gallifrey to give Angelina her envelope and to mail the other one. Of course, I know I can count on you to carry out my wishes if it comes to that.
Tegan looked up from the letter.
"Oh dear God," she moaned, tears sliding silently down her cheeks. "Oh dear God."
Kiss Angelina for me and tell her I'm sorry I had to dash off without saying goodbye and that I'll try my best to be back as quick as I can. Please don't say anything that would make her worry; I don't want to burden her with that. I didn't want to burden you with it either, but I felt I owed you some sort of explanation for my actions.
[Something else was written here but it had been hastily scratched out and was now illegible].
Brave heart, Tegan.
The letter was signed with an elaborately scrawled string of Gallifreyan text that Tegan recognized as the Doctor's real name.
"Oh dear God," Tegan repeated. She didn't know this particular Doctor quite as well as she'd known the fifth one, but she knew him well enough to be able to read between the lines; he was going somewhere or was going to do something very dangerous and he didn't believe that he would survive. But if he dies, he'll regenerate… It suddenly hit her that he hadn't asked her to explain regeneration to Angelina, and she realized that he hadn't thought it was necessary to prepare her for that eventuality because he truly didn't believe that he would be coming back at all, either in the same body or a in a new one.
Tegan put her face in her hands and sobbed.
Days crawled by like weeks, weeks crawled by like months, months crawled by like years, and still there was no word either from or about the Doctor. Tegan thought she would go mad soon if she didn't find out something. She had put his letter to her in the drawer of her nightstand along with the one addressed to Angelina and the third letter, which puzzled her. It was a stamped envelope addressed to Mrs. Rachel Weisman at a New York address that Tegan recognized as being right there in Manhattan. In the corner where the return address belonged, the Doctor had written the Greek letters theta and sigma and nothing else. The curiosity was nearly killing her, and she longed to steam the letter open and read it but was prevented from doing so by a hardened dollop of scarlet sealing wax impressed with the Prydonian seal. He did that deliberately, she thought ruefully, slightly chagrinned that he obviously knew her so well. She had gone on the Internet and looked up Rachel Weisman at the address on the envelope and had found a phone number, but she lacked the courage to make the call. What would she say, anyway? My name's Tegan Jovanka, who the hell are you? No, that would hardly do. So the letter to the mystery woman sat in the drawer with the other two, and she longed for the day when he stood safely before her and she could return it to him un-mailed and unopened... and demand an explanation, of course. In the meantime, Tegan tried not to think about any of those letters from the Doctor or what kind of insane danger he might be facing. Instead, she buried herself in her work, taking extra shifts and offering to fill in for stews who were on vacation or needed time off for whatever reason.
Meanwhile, Angelina was going on with her life as though nothing was wrong. Tegan was determined to shield her daughter for as long as possible from what was likely to be a crushing blow, and hadn't yet told the girl anything. She forced herself to put on a happy face whenever Angelina was around, pretending that things were completely normal and that the Doctor was just off gallivanting around the cosmos as usual and would be back any time. It was a schizophrenic existence and one that was becoming increasingly difficult for her to maintain.
She was in the kitchen making dinner when the familiar sound of a materializing TARDIS filled the apartment. With a cry of joy, she hurriedly wiped her hands on a dishtowel and ran into the living room where she saw a large oak wardrobe standing in the corner that the police box always occupied on its visits. Oh, he's fixed the chameleon circuit, she told herself frantically. That's it, he's fixed it and now it works properly and he's back and everything's going to be OK… The wardrobe's door swung open and Zeta appeared, wearing long scarlet and orange robes. His face was carefully neutral as was fitting for a Time Lord of such high rank, but his expressive dark green eyes silently said it all. She went to sit on the sofa, motioning for him to join her. He reached over and took her hand, and they sat in silence for a long while.
"How?" she finally asked in a low voice, not looking at him. He shrugged.
"No one knows," he replied. "Theta's eighth incarnation simply does not exist any longer. The other seven are all still there in their own time streams, but his eighth has gone."
"Oh my God," she moaned. "So he's dead? Is that what you're telling me?"
"I don't know. We've never seen anything like this. He's simply gone."
"So he could come back," she said quietly, glancing up at him with hopeful eyes. He shrugged again.
"I suppose he could," he agreed. "Anything's possible. As I said, we've never seen anything like this. People don't just vanish from their time streams without a trace!"
"Not even Time Lords?"
"Especially not Time Lords." He gave her hand a squeeze. "I'm sorry, Miss Jovanka."
"Call me Tegan," she said absently. "Wait a minute, what's being done about all this?"
"Our Lady President has used the Matrix to look for him. She wanted to use the Eye of Rassilon as well, but the High Council forbade it. She's got people working day and night trying to work out what's happened to him."
"And that's it?"
"They've tried using his TARDIS's recall circuit, but – "
"Oh, he dismantled that ages ago," she said dismissively.
"I might have known," he said, nodding.
"Has anyone tried actually leaving Gallifrey and looking for him?" she asked. He tilted his head to one side, looking thoughtful.
"Go and look for him, hmm? Ah, a novel approach to the problem. I like the way your mind works." She gave him one of her patented looks, and he abandoned the sarcasm. "Yes, Tegan… I have looked for him. He left this apartment, continued to exist for a week or so as counted in local time, and then simply vanished. I personally visited his last known coordinates and found absolutely no trace of him."
"You searched the place thoroughly?"
"As thoroughly as possible. It was open space. Not very many places to hide, not even for Theta, who is very good at hiding when he needs to be."
"Maybe a spaceship picked up the TARDIS with him on board."
"Possibly," he agreed with a shrug. "That doesn't explain how he vanished from his time stream."
"Rabbits!" she exclaimed, frustrated. "Wait a minute, could someone have used the Time Scoop on him? Taken him to the Death Zone on Gallifrey? I remember when we landed there, the coordinates registered as being no time and no place!" Zeta shook his head.
"That machinery was dismantled and destroyed under Flavia's direct supervision not long after your pleasant stay at our cozy little vacation spot."
"What if someone's built something like it?"
"Impossible," he said immediately.
"Why?"
"That technology came from Rassilon himself. It exists nowhere else in the universe." She was silent for awhile, thinking.
"Could something have gone wrong with his TARDIS? Could it have taken him off somewhere outside of time and space and then left him trapped there?" He considered it for a moment.
"I don't think so," he finally said. "That ancient Type 40 of his is an unreliable piece of junk fit only for display in a museum devoted to prehistoric artifacts, but I don't think that even it could malfunction with such spectacular creativity." Seeing the look in her eyes, he sighed. "But of course I will look into it. Perhaps the experts will know something about the 40's design that I do not."
"All right. And I'm not going to say anything about this to Angelina yet… just in case you find something out." Seeing the desperate hope in her dark brown eyes, Zeta just couldn't bring himself to say anything to quash it and so he simply nodded. She looked up at him. "Thank you for coming here and telling me what's happening."
"Of course, Tegan," he said gently. He was beginning to see what his old friend saw in humans; though they would never achieve his species' level of technological and intellectual advancement, they had a force of personality that was completely unlike anything one saw on Gallifrey among the cool, remote Time Lords. They had not trained away or lost through genetic engineering most of their emotions, and as a result they came across as being far more vibrant and alive than any Time Lord that Zeta knew... aside from Theta, who had been a notorious hellraiser in the younger years of his first incarnation. Tegan was still staring up at him with those hopeful eyes, and he had a sudden impulse to pull her into his arms, to offer her comfort in the human fashion and perhaps even find some for himself in return.
Tegan was startled when Zeta released her hand and put his arms around her, drawing her close. She allowed the embrace and relaxed against him, her face buried in his chest. She breathed in the faint, slightly stale scent of the recycled air of Gallifrey's capitol that lingered in his robes and caught a richer scent underneath that made her think of cinnamon and nutmeg and old parchment. He rested his cheek on top of her head and his black hair fell down around her face, releasing more of that spicy paper scent. An odd thought occurred to her, that the scent of the Doctor's body had not been at all like this, so oddly different, so totally alien. For the first time, the thought that she might never see him again entered her mind as an actual possibility rather than an abstract concept; though she had cried when she had read his farewell letter, she had never truly believed that he wouldn't return eventually, probably with some hair-raising tale of a mind-bogglingly dangerous misadventure involving saving the whole Universe from some unimaginable evil.
With a sigh, she put her arms around Zeta and held him tightly, listening to the double thump of his hearts and feeling the hot, silent tears running down her cheeks.
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 6, "What Is This, An Orman Novel?"
