Sup guys! This chapter turned out to be much longer than I had planned, but I guess i should get used to it... I'm kind of long winded XD Especially for this section of the story because it's all going to be original stuff until they pick Rose up again. I'm really just realizing how looong this story is going to be... and that's just the stuff I have planned out! Well, anywho... let me know if the characters are staying in character, my mind was starting to fry a bit when I finished this chapter
WARNINGS: MILD LANGUAGE, MENTIONS OF PTSD
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Chapter Eight: Clovers
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I was stiff. First thought of the day. Stiff.
Second thought: Where the fuck am I?
I sat up slowly and looked around. A glorious early morning sky stretched overhead. Oh… I was in my room on the TARDIS. I wasn't in bed though, which was probably the source of my confusion.
A soft grey blanket, disturbed by my movements, slid off my shoulders and onto the floor. Where had that come from? It hadn't been in the oversized bean bag chair I had woken up in, and I didn't remember getting it from the couch.
I sighed and stretched before reaching down to retrieve the blanket so I could wrap it back around myself as I debated on whether or not to actually get up today. I was exhausted despite having slept well. But I suppose crying did that to you.
Heat radiated from my cheeks. Crying myself to sleep like a little kid. At least there was no one around to notice.
My back popped several times when I stretched again. Why had I fallen asleep in the chair instead of my bed? A quick examination of my arm answered that question. I had managed to get a vast quantity of the clay off last night, but I had been too tired and… let's say, 'emotionally compromised' to finish the job. So I had collapsed into the chair so I didn't get the then-still wet clay on the bed.
I needed another shower. There were still clumps of clay matting my hair together and it looked as if kids had been doodling on my arms with white chalk. The blanket remained wrapped around my shoulders as I struggled to stand up and made my way into the bathroom. Hopefully another shower would be enough to keep me from acting like a zombie.
The bathroom was huge, like one of the fancy modern ones you'd expect to find in a billionaire's mansion. A mirror made up the entirety of one of the walls, reflecting the bright lights and marble floors of the rest of the bathroom. Off to the side of the room was the bathtub and shower.
The walk-in shower was fascinating in itself. Approximately fifteen feet long and eight feet wide, the shower was basically like standing in warm rain with adjustable pressure, like, the entire shower ceiling rained down water. I hadn't discovered all the settings yet, but I knew that there was a panel that you could click on to adjust which parts of the ceiling let out water.
For now, I adjusted it so that only the small strip of ceiling nearest to the panel released water. I picked a random scent (out of 4,368 available fragrances) from the automated dispenser (which was also controlled by the Handy-Dandy panel) and started scrubbing at the white streaks. I did the same with my hair, except with shampoo and conditioner. I love the TARDIS.
I scrubbed and scrubbed until my skin was red and raw. The clay I was trying to get off was long gone, but I couldn't stop scrubbing. My flesh crawled and itched like I didn't quite fit in it. I just felt… so… dirty. Disgusting. It was like my skin was made out of a gas station toilet seat, or maybe a dirty floor covered in used tampons and dog hair… or like it was made out of a severed head, dripping flesh from a sun bleached skull and writhing in maggots.
No. Stop it.
I scrubbed harder.
Stop thinking about it.
Glagig's head being dropped on the ground with a wet splat.
Stop.
Dry, crusty lips oozing blood like saliva.
Enough.
Eyeless sockets staring out at me with an expression that would've been terrified if the face hadn't been mutilated beyond recognition. I had only known it was Glagig because of the candy pink skin.
"Stop!" I spat out loud, hoping my brain would get the memo if I vocalized the command instead of thinking it.
It sort of worked. I hurriedly turned off the water and snatched up one of the fluffy white towels that the TARDIS provided. I toweled off quickly, trying to focus on what I was going to wear today and the lovely dream I had last night to keep myself distracted.
I blanked out on the clothes and refocused on the dream. It was nice, a million times nicer than I had expected when I went to sleep last night, since I had expected nightmares from the days before. Instead, I had found myself in a beautiful field full of tall lilac colored grass; the surface of a bright orange planet hanging gloriously in the navy blue sky.
I smiled to myself, wondering if there actually was a place like that. Maybe I could ask the Doctor and see if he'd take me there.
When I padded out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel I noticed the panel beside the doorway. There were a lot of things in my in-TARDIS apartment that I hadn't explored yet, seeing as I had only slept in it twice and had been fairly preoccupied my more important things. But now this previously inconspicuous panel came to my attention because it was blinking frantically.
I wandered over to it, stared at the blinking green light, chewed at my thumbnail, and gave the screen a tap.
The screen came to life reading:
[One New Message]
Message? From who? What, some kind of in-TARDIS, home phone type thing? I clicked the icon and the message opened.
Go out for breakfast? Meet in console room whenever you're ready.
Dress for Spring weather.
~ Doctor
I chewed my lip thoughtfully. Should I respond? Nah, he just said to meet. Evidently he had already picked out a place to start the day. Spring weather… but what kind of Spring weather? Like, London spring, Georgia spring, or Egypt spring? Because they were all very different springs. And like… nice spring? Or casual spring? Because those were very different too.
I sighed and shook my head. Overthinking again.
He probably meant mild weather. If he'd meant hot, he would've said 'hot', just as he would've said 'cold' if he meant cold. Spring just meant somewhere in between.
And niceness? If it was formal or in a certain time period, he probably would've said. If he felt like he needed to mention the weather, it was probably because we'd be outside.
I eventually settled on a loose fitting tank top under a short sleeved cardigan, and, after some debating, a pair of black leggings with black converse. I also took a moment to slip on a wrap bracelet around my wrist to cover up the dark bruise that was still there from my first encounter with the Time Lord.
I spent a few moments combing through my hair, picked out a few pieces of clay that I missed, and set off towards the console room.
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The Doctor was waiting for me, as promised. I half expected him to make another snide comment about my sleeping habits, but he only looked up at me through a pair of strange goggles that were more typical of his later regenerations, and smiled.
"Hello, Buff," he greeted cheerfully, sliding the goggles up onto his forehead. "Sleep well?"
"Yeah, thanks." I answered shyly, coming around to stand beside him. "What's up?"
"Rewiring the TARDIS maintenance circuits." He finished tying two copper wires together and straightened up, taking off the goggles and hanging them on the edge of the monitor. "Some subsystems shorted out and weren't important enough to worry about during…" He cut himself off, a shadow falling across his face. "I hadn't found a reason to fix 'em until now."
I nodded understandingly, pretending not to notice how pained he looked. "I get 'cha. I almost screwed myself over in Spanish because I kept forgetting about worksheets. My English teacher was scarier."
"So you'd do English first," he finished, coming out of whatever place his mind had wandered to. "Anyway… breakfast? I have a whole day planned out."
I smiled despite the anxious tingle that flashed through my chest. "Where are we going?"
Hopefully… hopefully… it wouldn't turn out like our last outing, seeing as the Doctor had planned this one. Did that mean the trip to the violent native island was unplanned? Don't think we landed there by accident.
"Somewhere fantastic," he promised, back to his overly cheerful self. The Doctor's grin was almost maniacal as he set the TARDIS into motion while I hung on for dear life.
It was a fairly short trip. Within seconds the shaking stopped and everything went quiet. Much to my surprise, the Time Lord didn't immediately make for the door.
The Doctor peered at me from around the glass of the center of the console, a much calmer smile playing around his lips.
He nodded towards the doors. "Wanna take a look?"
I glanced at the doors nervously. Me first? Really not sure how I felt about that. "Where are we?"
He nodded to the door again, looking amused. "What're you askin' me for? Door's just there."
I edged towards the door, doing my best to not look terrified. Last time I had set foot outside the TARDIS I had been captured by violent aliens. Before that, we were attacked by sentient plastic. There were a ton of episodes where the TARDIS didn't land where it was supposed to. Did I really have to go? Couldn't I just stay on board?
A glance back told me that the Doctor had ambled up behind me, smiling encouragingly.
I turned back to the door. Well, if he was sure.
The door creaked open without hindrance. For a moment, all I could do was stand in the doorway and gaze out at the breathtaking scene in front of me.
The TARDIS had landed in what appeared to be a large, grassy park that was sided by a body of water. Up ahead was, to my astonishment, the Golden Gate Bridge. Although San Francisco on a sunny spring day was gorgeous enough on its own, what really had me floored was the sheer number of flying vehicles that swarmed around the city like insects. I had seen pictures of San Francisco before, but it had clearly changed a lot between the early twenty first century and whenever we were now; now skyscrapers reached up impossibly high like fingers reaching up to grab at the clouds on either side of the startlingly red bridge.
The huge stretch of grass, which was even bigger than I originally thought, was teeming with life; humans and aliens alike. Posters and booths and balloons added even more color to the bright spring day while my other senses were assaulted by music, chatter, and a variety of smells that I couldn't even begin to identify.
I was dimly aware of the Doctor pushing past me to lean against the outside of the TARDIS.
"Buffy Reid, welcome to the 24th century."
I turned to look up at him and he laughed at my expression.
"This is the San Francisco Sidereal Fair," he elaborated. "It's held every year for the great and good of all the planets Earth is currently involved with to get together and play games, share cultures, foods, and technology. Come on, I've already reserved us a place."
The Doctor gave me a nudge to shake me out of my stupor and I grabbed onto his arm in a kind of little-kid-reflex. I didn't have to look up to know that he was grinning amusedly as he led the way to the entrance, but I was too overstimulated to care.
I watched as the Doctor flashed his psychic paper at the human dressed in an obnoxious shade of yellow before guiding me past the guarded entrance and into the fair itself.
My eyes flickered rapidly, trying to look everywhere at once as strange species passed; some had trunks like elephants, some had huge eyes, some had feathers, others had scales and were every color of the rainbow.
The Doctor sidestepped a small wheeled robot that was carrying a large red box and continued on into a break in the makeshift buildings and booths, making space for a sea of what appeared to be picnic blankets and sun umbrellas.
More of the wheeled robots with the red boxes scurried by, darting on the grass between the islands of blankets. As we passed through the the first few rows of mats it became clear that the bots were delivering boxes of neatly packed food to the people lounging back and snacking in the morning sun.
"Don't stare," the Doctor chided, seeing that my line of sight had hovered on a checkerboard colored woman and her two children longer than what was socially acceptable.
"Sorry," I muttered awkwardly, tearing my gaze away from the family.
"Here we are," the Doctor said brightly. He shook me off of his arm and settled down on a blue, rubbery mat.
I slid down onto my knees beside him, still gazing around in wonder. "You said 24th century?"
"Yep!" The Doctor snatched up an object that resembled an IPad that had been placed neatly in the center of the mat and began scrolling through whatever was on the screen.
"How many different species are here?" I settled down off of my knees and into a sitting position. "And what's that?" I pointed to the tablet he held.
"The menu." He held out the object for me to see the screen displaying an extremely detailed list of a vast variety of food. "An' about 200, give or take. Right now the Earth is diplomatically involved with 124 different planets, if my history's right, which it is. Diplomatic matters, tradin', and whatnot. There's even talk of an alliance. A Federation of sorts."
"Like Star Trek?" I piped up, fascinated. "United Federation of Planets and Star Fleet?"
The Doctor grinned. "Basically, yeah. Star Trek fan, eh?"
"Always." I grinned shyly and raised my hand in the Vulcan Salute, very nearly squirming around in glee when the Doctor did it back.
"Nice to see that some things stay the same across the universes," he concluded cheerfully, lowering his hand and returning his attention to the menu tablet. "Let's see, what for breakfast? Here you have your basic human stuff…"
After a few minutes of pouring over the menu, I decided to order some coffee and a bagel, which was my go-to breakfast. The Doctor wasn't having it though, pushing me to order some bacon, eggs, and some weird kind of alien pancake that was neon pink with blue spots. He on the other hand, ordered three sausage and bacon sandwiches and, in a show of solidarity, also ordered the pink pancakes and a funny sort of fizzy milkshake.
The Doctor dropped the menu pad back onto the mat carelessly and leaned back on his hands with his eyes closed, enjoying the sun.
I stretched my legs out in front of me, trying to relieve some of the remaining ache from my awkward sleeping position the night before. My eyes raised to the multitude of flying vehicles swarming between the buildings across the water.
Millions of questions were streaming through my head but I couldn't rest on one long enough to ask it out loud. Because HOLY CRAP. Unlike the beach on the other planet, I actually had a moment to sit and digest my surroundings without fear of death.
This was the TWENTY FOURTH CENTURY. It really was like Star Trek; Next Generation, to be precise. Not to mention that Starfleet Academy was actually supposed to be in San Francisco, probably about where we were sitting now.
I finally settled on a question and started to open my mouth to ask it, but the Doctor beat me to it.
"Back in the alley, you said four thousand miles away," the Doctor spoke up, opening his eyes and turning his head slightly to face me. "Where are you from?"
"Georgia," I answered, pushing my own questions to the side for a moment. "Like, the state, not the country."
He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "You don't sound like a southerner."
"Well, I did, just not anymore." I twirled my hair around a finger absently. "I just sort of woke up with it." I frowned. "I'm not sure I like sounding British."
"What's wrong with British?" He asked, looking amused.
"I mean, nothing. It's just… I miss my southern drawl."
"Can you not still do it? It's just an accent."
"Yeah. I still know what it sounds like. It's just not, you know, natural anymore," I admitted wistfully. There had been a time when I hated my accent, hated how people would automatically assume I wasn't as smart as I actually was because of it. But now that it was gone, I missed it.
The Doctor smiled softly. "Have you got family?"
"Yeah, uh… two brothers and our parents." The wistfulness I'd felt at my accent change hardened into a pang of grief. I glanced away quickly, trying to force it back down. This really was NOT the time for being sad. I was on FUTURE EARTH for God's sake.
"I'm sorry."
I looked back up to see a somber expression on the Doctor's face. Evidently he had caught on to how upsetting it was to think about my family. Of course he would. He was the Doctor. He knew what it was like to lose family.
I tried to pull off a nonchalant shrug. "Is what it is. And anyway, it's not like it's your fault."
"Sure about that?" He asked carefully.
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, grief forgotten. "What do you mean?"
"Not sure. But you weren't brought here by accident. Someone reached across the universes and specifically picked out someone that had knowledge of me and topped it off by placing you in London. Right in the best spot for you to find me. So it seems like whatever's goin' on, I'm right in the middle of it."
"Okay…" I said slowly, chewing on what he'd just said. It did make sense for it to have something to do with him. How could it not? But why? And why me, specifically? I wasn't anyone particularly special. "But why would someone do that? Like…" I popped my fingers absently. "They… they obviously wanted me to find you, but why? Doesn't seem like something you do for shits and giggles."
The Doctor reached into his jacket and pulled out the medallion. I watched the gold disk glitter in the sunlight, having completely forgotten about it.
He twirled the chain around his fingers thoughtfully. "I think I know what the point is… or at least part of it. This…" He held the medallion out so I could see it better. "...is an Extradimensional Manipulator. Time Lord technology. Lets the user literally grasp onto the fabric of reality like a… a handle. Shift through the dimensions, so to speak."
I blinked at him in confusion, only half understanding. "Alright… like… between universes? Cause maybe that would have something to do with..."
"No," he said bluntly. "It's not used for travelling between universes. It's more like…" He glanced around and picked the menu pad back up. The Doctor held the pad parallel to the mat on we were sitting on. "Alright, pretend that the menu is us, our universe. And then the mat…" He patted the mat insistently. "Is another universe. And in between them…" He waved his hand in the empty space between the two flat objects. "...is the void. Which is literally nothing, and I mean literally. No light. No sound. No space. No time. Nothing. Still with me?"
I nodded solemnly. He had, or would, explain the void when dealing with Pete's Universe.
"So if we're here…" He rested a finger on the top of the menu IPad. "An' this is our version of reality. Our universe. All the light, matter, and time that we experience. There's a point where our universe meets the void an' the dimensions cease to exist. Except it's not a hard point… or line… barrier where the universe just stops all at once. It just sort of fades out. The Manipulator lets you step into that faded out place near the edge."
I watched as he slowly traced his finger to the edge of the pad. What, like Stranger Things?
"So like…" I said slowly, not wanting to sound too stupid. "Like the Upside Down?"
The Doctor stopped tracing the outline of the menu, perplexed. "Upside down?"
Heat radiated from my cheeks. "It's a... thing from a… a show. Like, you know how they say the 'flea on a tightrope' thing…" I trailed off, feeling ridiculous.
Strangely enough, the Doctor seemed to be toying with the statement, more thoughtful than condescending. "Not quite, but not too far off, either. If it helps, don't think 'upside down'. Think 'slightly to the left', and you've almost got it. "
That sort of made sense, I guess. I had a feeling that he could explain it all day and I would still be confused, so I decided to just accept it and move on.
"Okay, so why would Mirror Girl give this… uh… handle… to me? Did she just want me to give to to you?"
"Don't think so. I can't use it, you see. Going a 'little to the left' is impossible for most creatures. Just not built to exist there. Quite literally just come apart at the atomic level. Meanin'..." The Doctor held out the medallion. It dangled in front of my eyes, the center stone sparkling in the sunlight. "It must be yours."
I reached out and took it carefully from him. After a second of staring at the shiny surface, I realized what he said.
"Wait, what?" I sputtered. Mine?"How can it be mine?"
"You're the one that's supposed to use it," he explained patiently, his gaze sharp and intense.
"Are you sure?" I asked skeptically.
"Yeah." The Doctor nodded solemnly. "That's what I was checking, back on Irrodious Prime. The walls of the universe are thin there. I wanted to see if you'd respond to it."
A chill crept down my spine. "Those things that I saw… the… the thingies you couldn't see, back in the cage…"
"Other extra dimensional creatures, probably. Harmless to stuff in this dimension. They tend to swarm there because the walls are thin, prone to microscopic tears. " Something flashed across his face. Was it worry? Regret? Damn, he was hard to read. "I was careless, though, goin' there. I'm sorry."
"Okay, but…" I tapped my finger against the medallion. "That doesn't explain why I'm here or why they'd give it to me. What am I even supposed to do with it? How does it even work?"
The Doctor shook his head and sighed. "It's not important right now. We can discuss it later. Because tell you what…" He clapped his hands together eagerly. "It's time for breakfast!"
I turned to see that one of the wheeled robots had rolled up behind me bearing a large red box. It beeped happily as I lifted the box off of it with some difficulty. The Doctor leaned over to help sit it between us on the mat, immediately opening it and starting to go through its contents while I watched the robot roll away.
'"But, Doctor…" I complained, not ready to simply drop the conversation.
"Oh, get on," the Doctor huffed, passing me a thermos filled with coffee. "We're at what'll be one of the most popular attractions in this side of the galaxy. There's not a cloud in the sky, and we've got all day to enjoy it. And besides…" He held out a plastic container with the weird alien pancakes. "I want you to test these out first."
I took the container from him, opened it, and sniffed the contents skeptically with he divvied out the rest of the food.
"Why did I agree to get this, again?" I asked, nudging the top pancake with a plastic fork.
"Because what's the point of travellin' if you don't try new foods," he stated as if it were obvious. "Go on, I swear it's good."
"Then what 'new thing' are you trying?" I retorted as I cut off a small bite with my fork.
My stomach rumbled as the smell of bacon wafted up from the other containers. I hadn't realized how hungry I was. I took a last look at the pancake and popped it in my mouth.
"I got the shake, didn't I?" He protested, holding up the drink. "What do you think?"
I furrowed my brow at the flavors. "Is it… banana and… raspberry?"
The Doctor beamed. "Sort of. It tastes like bananas and raspberries but it's actually made from a plant found on a planet in the…"
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The Doctor continued his explanation of the plant that my pancakes were made out of for the majority of the meal. I tried to listen as best I could, but he was excited and continued to mumble animatedly through very large bites of food.
If I didn't know any better I would think that he was unaccustomed to - but completely thrilled at - having someone to explain this stuff to.
But I did know better, so I knew that was exactly what was happening.
I still wanted to ask him about the war; how long had it been since it ended, what happened to him since then, and most importantly, how he was holding up. He seemed okay now, but from what I'd seen so far, I was pretty sure he was overcompensating and more fragile than he was letting on.
I watched him as he made weird faces at the fizzy milkshake that apparently tasted like beef.
It probably wasn't my business, but he was my only friend at the moment. I had already cared about him before I came into this universe, but now he was a thousand times more important.
As soon as we finished eating (the Doctor blatantly refused to leave the mat until I finished all of the bacon and eggs) we set off to explore.
I clung to the Doctor's arm as a giant man with three eyes and coarse red hair covering his entire body lumbered past, almost stepping on me. I hated being so short. I hadn't measured myself since my new body, but I couldn't be more than 5'1".
My tall companion only laughed and guided me through the crowd to examine some of the booths.
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There was a little bit of everything at the fair. Bizarre alien games, culture exhibits with food and clothes, dancers with six legs, two throated singers, contests, souvenirs, and religious figures handing out pamphlets.
Everything passed in a sort of blur of color and sounds. Despite being completely overwhelmed, I was having the time of my life. The Doctor's mouth worked nonstop, either explaining whatever we were seeing or busy laughing and chatting with vendors and other guests.
I stayed pretty quiet most of the time, not really having anything to say and entirely content with watching and listening. It was one of the good things about travelling with the Doctor that I hadn't really thought of before; the Time Lord was more than happy to fill the silence if his companion wasn't in a chatty mood. But no matter how talkative he was, he could just as easily shut up and listen if they had something to say.
I was a naturally pretty quiet person, so it was nice to not be expected to be a great conversationalist.
I reached up with my free hand to comb my fingers through my hair as we skirted the outside of the center clearing, toying with the baby hairs on the underside, which were curling and damp with sweat.
My hand came into contact with something smooth and cold. It was the chain from the medallion. I had hung it around my neck and tucked it into my shirt when our food came, definitely not wanting to lose it now that I knew how important it was.
A nervous prickle edged up my spine at the thought of the thing. Had I really been carrying around something as complicated as a piece of Time Lord technology for over a year? What if I had lost it? Then where would we be?
"How does the medallion thing even work?" I asked, craning my neck to look up at the Doctor. "It's just a disk, not complex like the TARDIS."
The Doctor let out an exasperated sigh. "If I'd known that was all you were going to witter on about all day I wouldn't have brought it up," he complained. "Talk about something else."
I groaned internally. He was determined to kill me with suspense, wasn't he? Fine, what else? My eyes drifted back up at the flying vehicles going about their normal transit in the distance.
"Fine," I sighed dramatically. "Then what about the flying car things? Are they still using combustion engines or have they moved on to something else?"
The Doctor brightened up considerably at the question. "Fantastic! Some of them are combustion engines, but they don't use fossil fuels like they did in your time. Most of them will run on a sort of proton-electron engine." He was about to continue, but another question popped into my head.
"How do they hover?"
"Think along the lines of a helicopter. Except replace the blades with charged ions."
I cut him off again. "What do they use for currency here?"
"Credits. At the moment. They've pretty much ditched material money and use a global unit system. Before the next turn of the century every planet in this system will use it."
"What, like coin?"
The Doctor chuckled, steering me towards another booth that had caught his eye. "I like your questions, Buffy. Most people don't think about the inner workings…"
He trailed off as we got closer to the booth. The display was larger than some of the others we had been to, and a bit more crowded. At least twenty people had gathered to admire the accumulation of shining metals and what appeared to be souvenirs taken from battlefields.
The sign positioned at the front announced in proud red letters:
Earth Military Assault Command Representative
General Maynard M. Mitchell
Commander - Intelligence Officer - Recruiter
Veteran of Isilanic, Battle of Yarnisit, Commiyiatis Registritrac, and The Stitigrec Isolica Extraictition
Genuine Military Memorabilia
War Stories - Recruitment - Inquiry - Donate
"He sounds full of himself," I muttered, glancing between the shoulders of the people in front of me to see an older man in full military uniform with a rather impressive mustache chatting with some of the people loitering around his booth.
"I'll bet," the Doctor growled.
I glanced up at him in surprise at the sudden change in tone. A stormy look had crossed over his face, darkening his usually goofy features.
"You know him?" I inquired nervously.
"Unfortunately," he continued in the same dangerous tones. "Earth considers him a war hero, but to everyone else he's as good as a symbol of death. Battle of Yarnisit? On other worlds it's known as the Yarnisit Massacre. Take a look at his audience. All human 'cause no one else would dare have anything do with him."
"Dang," I breathed, feeling slightly unsettled by both the Doctor's demeanor and the implications of his statement. "If he's so bad, what's he doing at a multiplanet fair?"
"Recruiting, mostly. Earth's expanding, buildin' up for what'll be the first Great and bountiful Human Empire. But to do that, you need soldiers an' military an' scientists and whatnot to hold and take territory. Most of it's peaceful, just normal exploration. Like Star Trek. Though I've got reasons to believe General Mitchell over there has a different perspective, except Earth is one of the most powerful influences around. No one wants to kick up a fuss."
"Don't wanna piss off the wrong people," I added dryly. "Three hundred years. Doesn't change that much, I guess".
"Stupid bloody apes," he hissed venomously. I glimpsed him in my peripheral, casting me a quick glance. "No offense."
"None taken. I'm from 2018 America, remember?" I snorted. "I agree."
I felt a small vibration from him that I assumed to be a chuckle. Then I realized I was still clinging to his arm like a little kid, not that he seemed to mind. In fact, I was pretty sure he enjoyed the contact.
The Doctor gave my arm a gentle squeeze. "Come on, let's see what all the fuss is about."
He steered us deeper into the General's audience and I had to bite my tongue to keep from protesting. This was a bad idea. I had the distinct impression that the Doctor was looking for an argument, whether he realized it or not.
"... Every first place award, certificate, and medal they have to offer at this mediocre assembly," General Mitchell was saying, mustache ruffling as he spoke. "That's twenty per year since I started working here, recruitment and such. I can't say it fills the void, so to speak, left behind by my career. But that's retirement, I suppose. Leave the fighting to younger men and women."
"Impressive." The Doctor's voice cut through the general chatter like a hot knife through butter, even without raising his voice. A chill went down my spine at his tone. Seemingly pleasant, like the calm before a thunderstorm. You know, I'd never understood that reference before now. "All of them? Quite an achievement."
"Almost all," General Mitchell responded imperiously. If he noticed the danger in the Doctor's tone, he didn't show it. "I have three left to complete this year. Quaaboak, Venusian croquet, and chess. After that, I'll have completed everything. Perfect timing, too, because after that, I am relocated to the Martian Colony Recruitment Center."
"How do you do it, General Sir?" An older woman said from somewhere on the other side of the Doctor. "First prize every time. You must be incredibly talented."
I felt a mild urge to gag at the woman's simpery suck-up question.
"Not so much as talent, my dear lady, as it is practice. Every year, I focus on twenty, and only twenty. I spend many hours perfecting the practice of the games. I find that the way to best perfect any skill, whether it be golf, or checkers, or war." the General let out a chuckle that made his mustache wiggle. "Practice, practice. Strategy. That is how we win."
"Practice with war?" The Doctor said lowly, an angry edge seeping into his tone. "How many people paid the price before you found your 'strategy'?"
General Mitchell finally turned his full attention to the Doctor, sizing him up. "Valiant men and women die for the cause, Mr…?"
"Doctor," the Doctor said curtly.
"Yes. And that would be Doctor…?"
"Just 'the Doctor'," the Time Lord said with an unsettling manic smile.
"Alright, 'the Doctor'." The General extended a hand carefully for the other man to shake. "As I'm sure you know, I am General Maynard M. Mitchell."
"I was aware," the Doctor said stiffly, taking the proffered hand. "And even if I wasn't, I could read the sign."
"Would I be correct in saying, Doctor, that you have experience in combat?"
"You could say that, yeah."
"Command, too, perhaps?" The General breezed, holding the Doctor's gaze. I suddenly noticed that the Doctor was taller than General Mitchell, and I think the General noticed too, as he was subtly straightening up, trying to make himself seem taller. "You have an air about you, Doctor, that of a leader. Reminds me of myself in my younger days."
As the Doctor's companion, should I correct the general or not? I could tell the Doctor was stewing at the condescending remark disguised as a compliment. So should I try to correct him or nah?
I cast a glance between the dangerously cheerful Time Lord and famous General.
Nah.
"Something like that." The Doctor untangled himself from my arm and clapped his hands together excitedly. "Now, show me what you've got here, General. Surely you've collected all sorts of interesting things in your… career… I'd love to take a look."
The General plainly didn't miss the disdain dripping from the Doctor's words, but he started showing us anyway. Coins and bullets and armor and dud grenades, the Doctor scrutinized them all the same. Thankfully, he didn't lose his cool like I'd feared he would. He made a few snide comments, but the General side stepped them easily.
I breathed a sigh of relief. General Mitchell appeared to be playing his cards right, not rising to the bait and allowing the Doctor to cool off a bit.
I had retaken the Doctor's hand at some point during the discussion. I gave it a squeeze, pleased when he squeezed back.
Then shit started to hit the fan.
A fan of General Mitchell, a youngish guy of about my age, had been hanging around at the Doctor's shoulder for a while as he waited for the General to give him his attention. Now he decided to pipe up.
"Excuse me sir," he interrupted, evidently having gotten impatient. "But my sister's deployed in the Arkadian Sector, where…"
"Where the Arkadians have caused conflict." The general let out a dramatic sigh. "So unfortunate."
"What about the Arkadians?" The Doctor asked lowly.
"Surely you are aware, Doctor," General Mitchell scoffed. "A man educated as yourself."
"Been travellin'."
Crap.
"Well, in short, there is a nebula that disorients the navigational systems of any ship that tries to pass through it. The only way through that part of space is through a channel. But that channel runs through Arkadian space." The General staged another seemingly rueful sigh. "Our explorers tried to negotiate an agreement of course, but the Arkadians refused. Tensions rose, and the Arkadians, rather savagely, if I might say, attacked an Earth vessel. Since then, EMAC has had forces stationed there, ensuring Earth vessels can make it through the pass safely."
"What, even though that stretch of space belongs to the Arkadians?" The Doctor growled.
General Mitchell shook his head sadly. "We found that the Arkadians were… irresponsible... with that 'stretch of space'... and couldn't be trusted to hold up their own agreements as to who was allowed through and who wasn't."
"But what I was trying to ask, sir," the younger guy piped up again, looking slightly miffed at being ignored again. "Is what would be the best way to handle the stuff goin' on over there? My sister's deployed there, you see, and I'm writin' a paper for class on 'conflicts faced by family members'. So I've got to ask, how would you handle it if you were still on active duty?"
The Doctor was tensed at my side like a loaded spring. I gave his hand another, somewhat nervous, squeeze. He didn't squeeze back.
"Well, that is a very loaded question, young man," the General sighed, ruffling his mustache thoughtfully. "Though I suppose, based on the reports I've seen on the issue, I would have treated it the same as I did back in my youth. A single, quick strike, just to pass across the message." He chuckled. "Like the battle of Yarnisit, I suppose. Or perhaps Impalicitizac."
"Like the Massacre!" The Doctor snarled, his voice rising. "All those people you had stripped from their homes an' murdered! You're saying you'd do it again?"
"Murdered, Doctor!" General Mitchell snapped back, finally rising to the bait. "It was a military engagement! People died, unfortunately, but that is what happens!"
"'Cept it wasn't a fight between two armies, was it?" The Doctor barked. "It was a civilian settlement, right? The Yarnisit City law enforcement did their best to stop you from harming the people, but once you'd slaughtered them, there was nothing stoppin' you from mowing down ordinary citizens."
"How dare you, Doctor!" The General sputtered. "Accuse me of… of foul play! I'll have you know that my actions were fully justified and supported by command…"
"But they didn't, did they? Your little strike was unauthorized by told you to pull out, but you didn't. Wanted to grab a little glory for yourself. An' when the dust settled, command had to support you to avoid interplanetary backlash," the Doctor spat.
"What's a few lives all at once compared to all the lives that were saved by decades of peaceful trade and interactions? A worthy sacrifice!"
"Worth over 18 thousand lives? How many of those were children? 8 thousand?"
"Perhaps!" The General hissed. "But is it not preferable to sacrifice a handful of savage pests and their offspring to make way for our own expansion? After that they allowed us to show them new ways, better ways! They are better off in a life of progressiveness and ingenuity because of ME!"
I tugged on the Doctor's arm desperately, having a pretty good idea of what was coming. "He's not worth it, Doctor. Let's go."
But he wasn't listening. Something strange had crossed the Doctor's face, more than just ordinary outrage. Angry and haunted, like he was back on the battlefields of Gallifrey. In a way, maybe he was.
General Mitchell was flustered and red with anger. He opened his mouth to retort, but the Doctor was in full swing.
"Cause it doesn't matter whose children have to scream and burn. Whose lives are ruined and whose lost family an' everything they had. Because what are they compared to you pathetic little lives? Just something to be eradicated and exterminated whenever they get in the way!"
"If that is what we must do…" The General roared. "That is what we will do!"
"Make the same mistakes over and over again… always saying you'll never let it happen again." The Doctor continued as if General Mitchell hadn't spoken. "And yet here we are… forgotten about something that happened less than twenty years ago so much that you're givin' the same advice to children!"
The Doctor whirled around to face the terrified young man that had asked the question in the first place. "You want to know how to fix the problem? Cause I've led and fought in wars bigger than your tiny ape mind can even comprehend, an' you know the only way to stop the fighting? It's to stop fighting. It's their bloody territory! Leave them alone! Go around the bloody nebula! A few weeks extra travel is nothin' compared to even a single life!"
General went deadly calm. "So you are an offworlder?" He turned to address the terrified spectators with an icy chuckle. "That explains it. Offworlders tend to lack the same rationality as mankind; the same understanding of objectivity, progress, and in this case, social etiquette."
The Doctor looked like he was about to explode. I cast a quick glance around the room. The small crowd around General Mitchell's booth had doubled in size as people nearby came over to see what the fuss was about. Sure, some people looked upset, others looked uncomfortable or even like they agreed with the Doctor, but others were angry, throwing the Time Lord hostile looks.
It wouldn't be long before one of them called security. I had to do something now, before the Doctor did something he would regret.
I swung myself around to face my friend, gripping his hand tightly as I gazed upward at him desperately.
"Doctor, come on. He's not worth it," I pleaded desperately. "Just ignore the stupid ape. Let's go."
Much to my surprise, the Doctor tore his poisonous gaze away from the General to look down at me. It took all I had not to quaver in fear at the look on his face. Full 'oncoming storm'. He was terrifying, but only for a moment longer. His icy blue eyes stared deeply into mine for a second, and then they softened.
The Doctor gave a single, curt nod and allowed me to pull him through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea for Moses as we passed though.
A cruel, cackling laugh echoed from behind us. "It was nice chatting with you, Doctor!" The General called, the tone of his voice not at all matching the politeness you'd expect from that sentence.
I spun around neatly without letting go of the Doctor's hand, waggled my middle finger at the arrogant man, and spun back around without breaking my stride, reveling in the shock it brought to his stupid mustached face.
~0~0~0~
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~0~0~0~
We ended up going back to our mat after I suggested we grab some lunch. The Doctor had gone extremely quiet after our encounter with General Maynard M. Mitchell, only speaking in distracted, one word responses and only if I asked him a direct question.
It was incredibly plain that he was upset, and I understood why. I still wanted to ask him how far away from the Time War he was, though I was getting more and more sure that it was close, REALLY close.
I glanced over at my leather-clad companion worriedly. He was sitting silently on the blue mat, legs stretched out in front of him and hands in his lap, not at all the excited, grinning lump he had been only a few hours before. His face was kept carefully blank, but I could imagine what was going through that tired old head of his.
I rolled over on my stomach and wriggled to the edge of the mat to sift through the mass of grass and clovers that grew just beyond the blue rubber.
He was extremely upset. Undoubtedly meeting someone as cruel and careless as General Mitchell had reopened some just-barely-even-started-healing wounds from the Time War. His mind was probably racing through the faces and acts of the people he'd encountered that were just like Mitchell, all the people that were killed because of their narrow minded arrogance. Then, unfortunately, he would probably be thinking of himself and all the people he killed during the war.
I felt a pang of sadness and glanced back at the Doctor. He looked so miserable, just staring at the ground in front of him.
I wanted to help. I could tell him that his people aren't really gone, just locked away in a pocket universe-y thing. Wait, no I couldn't. Foreknowledge is bad, remember?
Should I try to talk to him? I turned my attention away from the sad alien and back to the grass in front of my face. Talking to him might make him uncomfortable. I mean, he might really need to talk to someone, and God knows I'd be willing to listen, but we hadn't really known each other for very long.
What else could I do to try and cheer him up? I was a clumsy conversationalist with a shitty sense of humor. More than likely I'd just end up annoying or offending him.
Damn, I can't even cheer myself up, how am I supposed to cheer the freaking Doctor up? If I was sad, I would look at memes and watch funny YouTube videos. Did the Doctor like memes? Doubt it. 2018 humor is an acquired taste.
YouTube? Everyone likes cat videos. I touched my phone, which had been spending the day tucked away in my waistband. Wait. He hadn't upgraded it yet, so I doubted I'd have any signal.
I leaned back over and continued fiddling with the patch of grass and clovers. My hand brushed over something interesting. Well, it was interesting to me, being as easily amused as I was.
A four leaf clover.
Would a four leaf clover make the mighty Time Lord feel better?
I plucked it out of the ground and rolled the stem around in my fingers.
I couldn't imagine that it would make any difference. But what did I have to lose? I had to try something.
I flipped over onto my back and rolled over so that I was lying face up with my head just short of the Doctor's lap. Not close enough so I was touching him, but enough so I could look up at him while being directly in his line of sight.
"Look what I found," I said as cheerfully as I could, holding up the clover for him to see.
The Doctor blinked at me in surprise, undoubtedly caught off guard by my sudden appearance. Then he went cross eyed trying to look at the clover and I realized how close I was holding it to his face.
I pulled the tiny plant back a bit so he could see it better. After a second, his face softened; whether it was softened because he was touched/amused by the gesture or because his friend was a childish creature that needed to be accommodated, I really didn't care.
"For you," I continued brightly, encouraged by his expression. "Merry Christmas or… you know… whatever holiday is closest… What month even is it, anyway?"
The Doctor took the clover from me carefully, studying it while he rolled the stem around between his fingers as I had done. My heart leapt when the ghost of a smile graced his lips.
"It's July," he said softly, still toying with the clover.
"Hey hey!" I exclaimed happily. I threw my hands straight up in the air and clapped them together. "Christmas in July!"
The Doctor snorted.
Encouraged by my apparent success, I decided to take it as a personal challenge. Let's try for a real smile.
I rolled back up into a sitting position, retrieving my phone from my waistband and wiping the sweat off of it as I went. Then I flopped back against the Doctor, holding the device up and turning it to the front camera.
"Come on, Doctor, beautiful day in San Francisco. Selfie time." I grinned into the camera happily, still not entirely comfortable with the face of the girl that smiled back at me, though I was NOT about to let that show.
The Doctor turned his head to look and frowned. "No selfies. That's a human thing." I would've been discouraged if it weren't for the good-natured gleam in his eyes.
I scowled into the camera as well. "Sexy smoulder. I like it."
That did it. A huge grin spread across the Doctor's face.
I laughed and smiled too. "Smile's even better."
The Doctor laughed and we spent the next few minutes making faces at the camera. I even talked him into doing the duck face, a picture I would forever treasure for as long as I lived.
We broke off our photoshoot when the robot bearing our lunch came rolling up. This time the Doctor stood to receive it and bring it to the mat.
"Oh, banana pudding!" The Doctor said happily as he went through the box's contents.
I smiled and nodded. The Doctor had been fairly despondent when I was ordering the food, so I had made a wild guess as to what he would like to eat. I knew he likes bananas, so I had decided to include it in the hopes that it would make him feel a little better.
It worked. The Doctor was back to his chatty self, talking about bananas and potassium and nutritional value while we chowed down on our sandwiches. I listened to him contentedly, happy to have been able to do something for the Doctor. THE DOCTOR. How many Whovians would kill for a chance to make the Doctor feel better?
The Doctor scoffed down the last of his meal and settled back onto the mat with a content sigh, staring into the alien crowds before casting a glance back in my direction.
"You've still got clay in your hair," he informed me.
I ran my fingers through my hair, searching for the offending strands. "I'll bet. I'm never gonna get it all out. In thirty years I'm gonna look in the mirror and find clay instead of grey hairs…"
"Here, I'll get it," the Doctor chuckled, leaning over to brush a few strands of my dark red hair aside before locating the chalky substance in question. I felt him crush the piece of clay between his fingers deftly and pick out the remaining bits. Then, to my surprise, he ran his fingers through the rest of my hair.
A pleasant tingle went down my spine as his fingers brushed gently against my scalp, making my heart flutter oddly. I kept incredibly still while he continued toying with the red locks, worried that if I so much as breathed that I would frighten him away.
At first, I thought he was checking for more clay, and maybe that was exactly what he was doing, but it seemed strange for him to scratch softly at my scalp and twist the hair around his fingers in a curious sort of manner if he was just looking for clay. Whatever he was doing, it felt really, really nice.
We sat like that for a solid minute, the Doctor playing with my hair. But at the end of that sort, blissful minute, the Doctor stopped abruptly and sat back.
"You've uh… got purple in your hair," he said awkwardly.
Wait, was he… blushing? His ears and cheeks looked significantly redder than they had before. Probably not. Why would he blush? And anyway it wasn't like I had been paying attention to what shade his skin was when he wasn't blushing. How would I know the difference?
"Yeah," I responded nonchalantly, trying to hide the fact that I was blushing whether the Doctor was or not. I picked out a purple streak and studied it. "I had it done forever ago. Just to shake things up a bit, you know? It's finally starting to grow out." I dropped the streak and glanced back up at the Doctor. "I've been thinking about getting it redone, but I'm not sure it's worth the hassle."
"You should. It suits you."
I smiled at the complement. We spent the next few minutes in a semi-comfortable silence. I was keeping quiet because I was fairly certain that the Doctor was trying to work himself up to say something and I didn't want to give him an excuse not to.
"I'm sorry about earlier," he said eventually, staring down at one of his hands. "Shouldn't have lost my temper like that, even at General Mitchell."
"Nah, don't sweat it," I said easily. "He's a terrible person. I don't know how many times I wished I had the nerve to tell off a terrible person. God knows there were enough of them from my time."
The Doctor hummed in agreement. "Doesn't mean that I should've." He shook his head angrily. "Just sets my teeth on edge, knowin' he gets to live on, despite what he did. No consequences. Doesn't even regret it."
Now it was my turn to hum in agreement.
"And then," the Doctor went on, "he has the nerve to take a jab at nonhumans. Thinks he's the best out of everyone. That's what his contest winning thing is about. Provin' he can beat anyone from any culture."
I narrowed my eyes thoughtfully, an idea forming in my mind.
"How good are you at chess?" I asked suddenly, taking the Doctor by surprise. I already knew that he was great at chess, but that wasn't the point.
"Fantastic, actually," he snorted. "Time Lord's invented chess." He frowned at me skeptically. "Why?"
"Think you can beat General Mayonnaise?" I prompted.
"Mayonnaise?" He chuffed, looking confused. Then a slow smile spread across his face. "Definitely, yeah."
"Cause I was thinking…" I drawled despite knowing that he had probably already worked out what I was suggesting. "Since our dear friend General Maynard Mayonnaise will be competing in whatever chess competition they've got here… it would be a shame if he just… you know… lost."
"What, to a nonhuman?" The Doctor said in mock horror.
"A tragedy, I know," I grinned maliciously. "Especially since it's his last year at the fair cause he's moving to Mars or... whatever. Last year, last chance to beat everything?"
The Doctor let out a hoot of laughter, grinning maniacally at the thought of a last 'fuck you' to General Mayonnaise.
~0~0~0~
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~0~0~0~
A few hours later I sat on a folding chair among the other fifty or so people watching the chess tournament. As predicted, the Doctor easily wiped the floor with everyone he went up against, laughing and chatting amicably while his opponents sweated and stalled, trying to delay the inevitable.
I had to bite back giggles as he went against General Mitchell. The Doctor was leaned back in his chair, conversing with the chess-referee-guy (or whatever they called him; I'd never been to a chess championship before), who was a strange weaselly looking guy that was dressed in vertical black and white stripes and covered head to toe in every kind of good luck charm you could possibly imagine; four leaf clovers, horseshoes, lucky pennies, and a crap ton of stuff I didn't recognize.
I couldn't tell from my spot in the audience, but I was pretty sure the chess overseer guy was talking to the Doctor about good luck charms, seeing as the chess guy kept showing the Doctor the horseshoe hanging from his necklace and his bracelets made of dice.
I smiled fondly at the sight of the four leaf clover I had given the Doctor. Before he had started in the chess tournament, he had carefully placed the clover in the top button hole of his leather jacket, claiming it was his good luck charm. I could still see it now, a small splash of green on the Time Lord's lapel.
In contrast to the Doctor's confident demeanor, General Mayonnaise seemed to be on the verge of a mental breakdown. He spent forever on each move, eyes darting around the board while his mustache quivered anxiously.
When the Doctor called checkmate, the General flipped the board, shouting vulgar things about conspiracy and sabotage before he stormed off into the night, leaving behind a very smug Doctor to receive his gold chess piece shaped medal.
~0~0~0~
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~0~0~0~
"Feel better?" I asked the Doctor as we strolled out of the fair and back towards the blue box parked in the grass near the water's edge, practically glowing in the late evening light.
The Doctor's fingers laced through mine. He squeezed my hand as we walked. I looked up to see a content smile on his face, looking more relaxed than I had seen him so far. I squeezed his fingers back.
"Mm-hmm," he hummed happily. "Did you see Mitchell's face?"
"You bet," I laughed. "I thought his mustache was gonna fall off."
The Doctor snorted and reached into his jacket for the TARDIS key. He froze, retrieved his hand and began examining his leather jacket hurriedly, looking for something.
"What?" he complained, patting his lapel frantically. "He stole it!"
I stared at him in confusion. "Huh?"
"The man in the striped suit, he stole the clover!" The Doctor scowled grumpily. "Should've known, all that talk about lucky objects. He bumped into me an' everything."
"Don't worry, I'll find you another one," I reassured him, leaning against the corner of the box while he went back to locating the key.
The Doctor frowned sourly as he unlocked the TARDIS, not looking at all convinced.
"Guess all humans are the same, huh?" I snorted as I followed him in, closing the door behind me. "Fighting and stealing."
The Doctor looked up from the console and fixed his intense blue eyes on me.
"Not all of them," he said simply, resting his hand on the dematerialization lever.
~0~0~0~
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Responses to Comments:
That's Balderdash : I'm glad you like the idea of seeing the story from someone else's POV. I think I'm going to do that every now and then just to shake things up a bit. Lol thanks for reviewing!
time-twilight : Well, the scanner showed the diagram of the universe (I'll explain more sometime in the next few chapters) and then the Doctor was just checking her vital signs because he was worried. This chapter starts explaining why he's concerned about her being exposed to the time vortex, but it'll become clear in *scratches head* like... two chapters(?) I'm bad at planning XD
scarlet rose white : I'm not entirely sure when Rose will be back, but my VERY ROUGH outline has her coming back in at like ch. 18. Though that may change depending on if I decide to break up chapters or take some out. I'm not sure how I'm going to structure all the chapters yet... but it'll be a while :)