CHAPTER 43

To Earth

By the time the group reached the TARDIS, the Doctor was carrying the injured Pr'Ce'el. l'X'el was in the console room when they arrived and was stunned by the changes that had occurred in just a few short hours. Only Jason, who wasn't even supposed to be there, appeared unchanged. The Doctor had what looked like bloodstains all over his clothes; Grant had changed into a set of coveralls, and they had an injured stranger with them who, by the way he was dressed could only be an injured mercenary. To l'X'el's surprised he learned Pr'Ce'el was actually one of his own people.

"Come on, you two," Jason said, waving at the Wieonol youths as he crossed to the inner door. "Sickbay. Now." He held the door open for the boys who were already engaged in an animated conversation about their separate adventures. He exchanged a long-suffering look with the Doctor, rolled his eyes and took a step to follow only to stop. He gave Grant a look that was so piercing it caused the boy to stiffen visibly and take a small step back. "If I don't see you again, Grant," Jason said mildly, "it's been a pleasure meeting you." So saying he turned and vanished though the door.

Grant blinked, turning a questioning look in the Doctor's direction.

"I think he's afraid we're going to be playing musical companions as soon as we dematerialize," the Doctor explained as he set the coordinates.

Grant was uncertain how he should take this and afraid to ask for an explanation. "We never did meet up with the Imperial Guard," he pointed out, hoping to delay the inevitable.

"I think we can leave the implementation of everything to SorRell now that she has all the facts—and the element of surprise." He was about to switch off the scanner when he saw the Alterran Imperial Guard enter the room outside. "Ah! Moot point. Looks like some of SorRell's people have finally made it. I'll just have a quick chat before we leave. Let her know I'm taking Jason to Earth myself."

"Okay. While you're doing that, I'm going to get cleaned up," Grant said, wiping more makeup from his neck. "Even if I don't end up coming along, I could still do with a long bath."

A look of concern creased the Doctor's face as his companion vanished through the interior door. He was admittedly uncomfortable when it came to emotional displays, something Grant may or may not be aware of at the point in time in which he had been plucked. Since this had been in his own past, the Time Lord was keenly aware of the fact that Grant had had a difficult time adjusting to life in the TARDIS. He needed to talk to someone with similar experiences. Fortunately the right person for the job was currently on his way to the sickbay.

Jason checked on K'ell'k's progress and was pleased when the boy told him he was hungry. "Well, that's a good sign," the Healer said happily. "I've never met a teenager yet who wasn't hungry most of the time. You'll have to wait just a bit, though. I have another patient to deal with." He turned to Pr'Ce'el and motioned that he follow, leading him into the treatment room and indicating that he take a seat on an examining table.

l'X'el followed and stood watching at the door. He was puzzled by his new friend's obvious discomfort in the Alterran's presence. Jason looked up and waved him in. "I'm afraid I unnerved Cee a bit out there," he said as he removed the makeshift wrapping from the boy's injured arm. "I was forced to transmute a few times, and one form in particular was purposely scary. Which didn't help, did it, Cee?"

To Pr'Ce'el's surprise, l'X'el reacted with excitement. "Really? What did it look like?"

"You know about that?" the amazed Pr'Ce'el gasped. He gave a cry of pain when Jason moved his arm away from his body.

"Sorry," the Healer said quickly. He cut the sleeve of the uniform, exposing the boy's swollen arm. "I have to set your arm. It's going to hurt, but it won't last long." Before the boy could respond one way or the other, Jason had taken hold of his arm, aligned the bones, and immobilized it in what looked like a sheet of clear plastic. He had moved so quickly that the youth barely had the chance to cry out. "There you are. Done," he announced.

Pr'Ce'el blinked, turning to the equally amazed l'X'el. "That's it?"

"Except for the sling, yes," the Healer replied. "The cast isn't plastic; it's an organic material that will be absorbed into your system as your bones heal. By the time it's completely gone, you'll be good as new."

"Wow," the youth replied, looking at his arm again.

"Oh! And you might want a pain killer, but other than that, you're arm just needs to heal." He moved to check his scalp. "You had a bad knock on the head, but not as bad as Kay. In my professional opinion, you need to get cleaned up, eat something and then get a good night's rest." Looking up, he added, "That goes for you and your brother too, Lix."

l'X'el responded with a smile.

Jason helped the injured Pr'Ce'el to change into something less official. He then fed his Wieonol charges and installed l'X'el and Pr'Ce'el in one of the rooms in the sickbay. He doubted they would get much sleep, however, as they were much too interested in finding out about one another. "Okay, look," he said firmly as he was leaving. "If you two are going to sit in here and talk for several hours, I don't have a problem with that. Just make sure you don't get Kay involved. He still needs a lot of rest and as little excitement as possible." He looked pointedly at l'X'el. "Can I rely on you to do that?"

"Yes," the youth replied quickly.

"You can rely on us both, Mr. Ambassador," Pr'Ce'el added.

Jason gave him an amused smile. "Cee, my name is Jason. I'd rather you called me that." To his delight, the ever serious Pr'Ce'el actually laughed. Finally! he thought.

Jason found the Doctor alone in the console room and gave him a rundown of their Wieonol passengers' status. "I think we have the makings of a first class slumber party going on back there," he remarked dryly. "I wouldn't be surprised to find a pillow fight breaking out once Kay is back on his feet."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "SorRell finally made it to our rendezvous. I let her know where our friend Buckley is, not that he'll be all that happy when they come to collect him." He went on to relay the Commander's plans and the status of the operation so far.

Jason seemed uncertain. "If you'll pardon the pun, I think we've created a monster."

"Yes, we do seem to have that affect, don't we?" The Doctor's hand hovered over the dematerialization switch. "Now, it's on to Earth, your summit, and getting your end of things sorted out. Yes?" He noticed his friend stiffen slightly at the mention of the summit, his face clouding over briefly. It was obvious Jason was not looking forward to returning to his official position as Imperial Ambassador, as it meant having to conceal the flamboyant and mischievous part of his personality, something that was always difficult for him to do. At the same time, they both dreaded what might happen when the TARDIS dematerialized.

"Let's get it over with," Jason sighed, taking hold of the console. He received a nod of agreement from the Doctor, who hit the dematerialization switch at the same time. The time rotor lit up and began its rhythmic rising and falling.

Five seconds passed.

Ten seconds.

Thirty.

Nothing.

The Doctor and Jason exchanged an astonished look.

"Nothing happened," Jason whispered, hesitantly releasing his grip on the console.

Never one to jump to conclusions, the Time Lord scrutinized the console. "Perhaps you transferred enough chronons to Grant to stabilize the timeline for the present," he theorized.

"Me? Doctor, I touched Mel before all this happened. That didn't seem to help her."

"You didn't have prolonged contact."

"I barely touched Grant when I healed his cuts."

"And did such a fine tailoring job on those coveralls," the Doctor reminded. "You probably swaddled him in chronons when you did that."

Jason closed his eyes and groaned. "Well, there's only one way to find out.

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Since you're going anyway, I wonder if I might ask a favor."

"Anything. You know that."

"You might not think so when you hear what I have to ask."

Jason's eyes narrowed suspiciously and he gave his friend a sideways look. "Why? What odious task do you have in mind for me now?"

After a long pause, the Doctor said, "I want you to talk to Grant about our time together."

"Why would I be reluctant to do that?"

"Because I want you to tell him about the bad as well as the good."

"I don't understand."

"You went through a rough patch or two back then, as I recall."

Jason grunted. "I went through a rough patch or two more recently than that," he said darkly.

"Then tell him about that. You're experience ten years ago."

"What? No! I still can't talk about that. Not even to you, and you were there."

"Jason," the Doctor said firmly, "Grant needs to talk to someone, and it certainly isn't me."

"What makes you think it's me?" Jason's eyes narrowed and he folded his arms. "Have you suddenly added psychology to your long list of—"

The Doctor held up a hand. "I'm a friend who's concerned. Yesterday you were an emotional train wreck who didn't think he would carry on the illusion any longer and today you're playing evil alien monster. You tell me you don't think you have it in you anymore, and the next thing I know you've turned into protector to all and sundry, incase you hadn't noticed."

Even though Jason knew the Doctor had a valid point he did not acknowledge it, his dark expression unchanged. "My current state of mind is irrelevant, Doctor."

"But Grant's isn't," the Doctor replied sharply. "I should probably point out that he wasn't the most willing of my companions. He came along simply because he had nowhere else to go."

"What are you asking me to do? Talk him into staying? Into being someone he's not?"

"No. I am simply asking you to talk to him. Companion to companion, as it were. You are good at doing that, I've noticed."

"Is that all? Or do you have another reason for asking?"

"Such as?"

The Alterran studied his friend's puzzled expression and wondered if he were reading too much into what was very likely a straight forward request. After an agonizing silence, he said, "Never mind." He waved a hand in the air. "Alright. I'll talk to him. But I can't promise anything."

"I'm not asking for a miracle," the Doctor replied.

"Good. Any idea where he might be?"

"He said he was going to get cleaned up. Take a long hot bath."

A thoughtful look passed over Jason's face and the Doctor saw him switch into Healer mode before he turned and strode through the inner door.

"I'm not asking for a miracle," the Doctor repeated once he was alone. "But you do have a knack for producing them."