Hospital Station Terminus
"Administrator?"
The woman to whom the question was addressed looked up briefly from the mound of electronic files on her desk. "Boreon," she acknowledged her assistant with a weary smile.
The 30ish man with the red hair and old-fashioned spectacles perched on the end of his nose hesitated by the door, looking over his shoulder before returning his attention to her. "There are some…people…to see you." His normally soothing tones were pitched a little higher than she'd ever heard outside of announcing a full-scale invasion. Which, for the record, had only happened once during her five-year tenure, when Terminus, Inc. tried to forcibly retake control of the station. Boreon, a recovered victim of Lazar's Disease, had helped repulse the invaders and played a large part in drafting the current agreement that left Terminus a fully autonomous research and medical station. Terminus, Inc. had to be satisfied with taking in a share of the profits the station suddenly started making as its reputation--and that of its Administrator--grew.
Nyssa frowned. "Do they have an appointment?" Normally she despised the bureaucratic process, but today she was literally buried in work. No, on a good day she was buried; today she was overwhelmed. Whipping Terminus into shape was still an on-going process. A never-ending process, it sometimes seemed.
Boreon shook his head, and she realized her normally unflappable assistant was looking a bit flustered. It piqued her interest; she'd never seen a situation Boreon couldn't handle. "No, no appointment. But," he hesitated, looked over his shoulder again, then looked back at her. "He said to tell you it's the Doctor. And Tegan; just that name and title, no other infor--"
Before Boreon could even come close to finishing, Nyssa had risen to her feet so abruptly she sent her chair flying backward, nearly tipping it over in her haste. She ignored the chair as it teetered precariously before settling itself back on all four legs, moving quickly toward the door, a huge smile on her face.
Boreon jumped out of her way as she rushed past him, even more confused than when the two strangers had appeared at his work station, as if from nowhere. He'd certainly never seen them before, and his photographic memory ensured that he knew the faces of everyone on the station. No ships had docked, he'd already met all the visitors and temporary workers brought by the last ship, and yet there they were. Standing there, waiting politely for him to notice them.
He peeked through the door, watching in amazement as the normally staid and serious Administrator of Medical Station Terminus jumped and squealed like a young girl, hugging the shortish man with the hat jammed on top of his head, then turning to the dark-haired pregnant woman with another squeal of delight, hugging her as well and asking a rapid fire series of question obviously related to her condition. She threaded her arms through those of the two visitors and walked them out of Boreon's office without a backward glance.
Boreon stared after them. His communications device made a loud buzzing noise, and he automatically crossed the room and answered it. "Administrator's Office." He paused, only half-hearing the person on the other end requesting to speak to Administrator Nyssa. "I'm sorry, the Administrator isn't available right now." He closed the connection without bothering to wait for the other person's response, then moved to his keyboard. "Administrator Nyssa is on personal leave for the remainder of the day," he typed in, hesitated, then erased "for the remainder of the day" and replaced it with "until further notice." He hesitated again, then sent the message after adding: "Please direct all inquiries to the Assistant Administrator." He had a feeling Nyssa wouldn't mind.
oOo
"All right, we've arrived. Now please, fill me in on all the details!" Nyssa ushered the Doctor and Tegan (pregnant? How? By whom?) into her private quarters, stopping short as she realized they weren't alone. "Oh, Tyrel, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were home!"
Her husband rose to his feet, startled by his wife's unexpected presence in the living space they had shared for the last year. "Nyssa? Is everything all right?" It was the middle of the day, and she wasn't due home until well into the evening. Or later, if some last-minute emergency cropped up. He himself was home only to grab a quick bite to eat before heading back into what his wife insisted on calling "the trenches." Well, and perhaps to take a quick nap as well…
Nyssa quickly crossed the small living room and kissed him. Then she turned back to the two strangers who had accompanied her. She put her hand on his shoulder. "This is my husband, Tyrel Oroleon. He's our Chief Surgeon." Her voice rang with pride.
Tyrel offered his hand, and the strange man took it, beaming in apparently genuine pleasure. "Pleased to meet you, Dr. Oroleon. I share your title, although not your medical skill. And this young lady is Tegan Jovanka." She murmured a hello from her position by the door. The Doctor had followed Nyssa into the room, but Tegan was still uncomfortably carrying the weight of all she had to share with her friend, and found herself non-plussed by the presence of Nyssa's husband. He'd been nothing more than a vague possibility mentioned by Ace, until now.
The reality of him, she had to admit, was quite striking. He was quite a bit taller than Nyssa, probably over six feet in height, slender and dark-haired, with beautiful green eyes and dimples to die for. And a doctor to boot. Looks, brains, the whole package. Tegan was impressed, and just a touch jealous.
Tyrel felt his eyebrows shooting toward his forehead as he realized who his wife's unexpected visitors were. "Tegan? And the Doctor? The Doctor?" he repeated. "Nyssa's Doctor?" He grinned broadly. "I have to admit, I never expected to meet you; Nyssa seemed to think you wouldn't be paying us a visit any time soon!" He indicated the sofa behind him. "Please, do sit down; would anyone like some tea?"
"That would be lovely," Tegan replied, but Tyrel heard something in her voice that made him hesitate.
Nyssa must have heard it too. "I'll help you with the tea things," she offered, tugging on her husband's hand and leading him toward the kitchen. "Do sit down, Tegan, you must be exhausted after traveling all the way here from…well," she laughed, "from wherever you've traveled from to get here! We won't be a moment."
As soon as the kitchen door closed behind them, she turned to her husband for a fierce hug. "Tyrel, I hate to do this to you, but…"
"But you're kicking me out," he finished for her, kissing her lightly on the nose. Which she promptly wrinkled at him. "I get the feeling this isn't just a social visit; your friend Tegan seems very ill at ease, and I'd like to think it isn't just from the shock of meeting me for the first time."
"I should hardly think so," his wife responded, kissing him on the lips, grateful for his understanding. "You generally make a good first impression. I didn't know you'd be here, or I would have contacted you before bringing them here."
"I was near this end of the station, working on a consult, so I thought I'd just pop in for a bite before heading back over to the hospital," he explained. "If I'd known we would be hosting such celebrated guests, I would have tidied up a bit!"
Their quarters, as always, were immaculate, so she ignored that comment, and the joking tone in which it was spoken. "We just need some time so they can tell me the real reason for their visit. But I promise it'll be safe to come back for dinner."
"Shall I bring something along?" About a year into Nyssa's overhaul of the station, a sort of promenade had sprung up in one of the disused sections, initially featuring a sort of hodge-podge of trader's booths and snack kiosks, but now consisting of a rather better selection of shops and food vendors. Including several restaurants that specialized in high-end take-away meals.
Nyssa nodded. "From Doosie's, I think, if you don't mind. And if you get stuck at work, just have someone leave a message here." She caught his arm as he headed for the rear entrance. "Tyrel, thank you. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
He kissed her nose again, chucked her playfully under the chin and caught her in his arms for a quick embrace. "I know. You fill me in with the parts you can later. I'll just have to deluge the Doctor with impertinent questions at dinner."
She laughed, watching as he left, then turned her attention to the tea things. Her guests were waiting.
oOo
"So that was the husband, was it?" The Doctor asked as he rose to his feet. He'd taken the seat nearest the side of the sofa where Tegan was now sitting. Nyssa placed the tea things carefully on the low table in front of the sofa and nodded in response to his question. "Congratulations; he seems a decent sort."
"High praise, coming from you," Nyssa replied dryly. She looked him over with a critical eye, knowing he was studying her as well. She knew what he and Tegan were seeing: the young girl they'd left behind had matured, the untamed curls now demurely restrained in a loose bun at the back of her neck, a sober uniform taking the place of the rather flamboyant outfits from her travels on the TARDIS, possibly the beginnings of lines around her eyes composed equally of stress and laughter. More laughter than stress since her marriage to Tyrel, granted, but lines nonetheless. Tegan looked older, too, but aside from the obvious changes wrought by pregnancy, despite the longer hair and modest clothing, she was still the woman who had been like an older sister to the orphaned Trakenite.
The Doctor's newest incarnation looked older, seemed a bit shorter and less wiry than the one she remembered, with lines in his face and a streak of gray in his dark locks, what she could see of them beneath his hat. "I see you've gone and regenerated again; which Doctor are you now?"
"I'm Number 7," he replied with a light shrug. "You know me; change is just part of my life."
"A little too much change," Tegan muttered, and Nyssa immediately sat down next to her, taking her friend's hand in hers. Tegan hugged her, and Nyssa returned the hug, glancing at the Doctor over Tegan's shoulder, concern in her eyes.
"Shall I start, Tegan?" The Doctor's voice was gentle, and Nyssa frowned. Just as she'd suspected, something was wrong.
"Tyrel had to go back to work, he just stopped by for lunch. He'll be rejoining us for dinner," Nyssa explained, noting the relief that quickly passed over Tegan's face. "He's quite looking forward to speaking with you both; I rather suspect he's itching to get his hands on medical information from a real live Time Lord!" She tried to keep her tone light, but sobered as soon as she saw Tegan flinching at her words. "I'm sorry, I've said something distressing." She took her friend's hand again. "Please, tell me what's wrong." Let me help.
"Perhaps I'd better start by explaining some…rather startling changes to my family situation," the Doctor began.
oOo
A half-hour later, Nyssa felt a headache coming on, but ignored it, too fascinated by what she was being told to take even the time to fetch a pain reliever. The Doctor had a son with a former companion, and the Doctor's son had a daughter with a current companion. "So you're a grandfather now?" she asked.
The Doctor nodded, then reconsidered. "Well, actually I've been a grandfather the entire time I've known you, Nyssa. You never met Susan, but Tegan did, as an adult in the Gallifreyan Death Zone." He paused. "I just never knew Susan's exact lineage, because it wasn't safe for me to know. Until now."
Nyssa's head was spinning, but she knew this was all merely background information. Gallifreyan Death Zone? She'd have to ask about that one later. "I gather there's some kind of complication, or else you'd have just taken your son and Ace to rejoin their daughter."
"Exactly." The Doctor managed to sound pleased at her immediate grasp of the situation and unhappy about the situation itself at the same time. All in the intonation of a single word.
"How can I help?"
The Doctor produced a data chip from one pocket. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate it if you could analyze this for me." His eyes closed for less than a second, then snapped back open. "I believe the Master has altered their DNA, but I'm not sure to what purpose." Impulsively, Nyssa reached across Tegan and squeezed his hand. He smiled, a weary smile, and she knew he was doing what he always did; hiding his pain in order to keep it from overwhelming him. "I've got the TARDIS working on it and I have some preliminary findings, not to mention a few suspicions of my own, but I'd appreciate an extra set of eyes. Especially eyes in charge of a medical facility."
Nyssa accepted the chip, folding it carefully into her palm. "My biotechnical skills, rusty though they might be, are at your disposal. I'll have a look at this just as soon as you tell me the rest of the story. The part," she added, turning to Tegan with compassion in her voice and eyes, "you obviously don't want to tell me."
The Doctor rose to his feet, stretching casually, but his own gaze was fixed on Tegan as he announced: "If you don't mind, I'll leave you two to chat while I go have a look around, see what kind of changes you've made to this old station over the past five years." Old was an understatement, since Terminus had actually started life as a gigantic time machine, one that had been responsible for the Big Bang.
Tegan looked panicked, but he nodded encouragingly. "You and Nyssa have a great deal to talk about, and I suspect it will be easier for you if I'm not underfoot."
Tegan subsided back onto the sofa; she hadn't realized she'd half-come to her feet. "I guess." She sounded reluctant, but resigned, and so the Doctor left.
"I'm listening," was all Nyssa said.
Taking a deep breath, Tegan began to speak.