Chapter 6: Trouble with a capital M

Notes: Yay, Mel at last! She's not the Mel you know anymore either, hanging with Glitz has rubbed off something fierce. Hm...lessee, I've made referance to Time and the Rani in there somewhere...

Ooo---oOo---ooO

The glare from the desert sun darkened the figure looming in the archway, but even as the trio at the table squinted, the exhausted, overheated, and (above all) dangerously annoyed expression gracing Mel's face was plain to see.

"GLITZ!" She yelled over the buzz of the pub, causing all eyes to turn on her and the silence following to become rather uncomfortable. Glitz paled and turned his back to her, shrinking down in his chair a smidge.

"Oh bugger."

"I take back the comment about you being a slimy git, Glitz. How many more beautiful women do you know? That I could meet? Who wear form-fitting outfits?" Jack's eyes were glued to the fire-haired woman who was heading in their direction, as the silence in the pub gave way to the low level white noise again. The Doctor was enthralled for an entirely different reason, and awe was plastered all over his face. He was aware he was staring. He also didn't care.

"36 tesri a crate, Glitz! I swear that is the last time I let you handle one of our business deals." She snapped. "Mal'Doran was practically skipping to the bank as she loaded her inventory. Might I cross my fingers and hope you didn't just give in to her charms and loose your head completely?"

"Ah, I'm afraid that's our fault, ma'am. We sorta had to interrupt the proceedings." Jack smiled warmly, standing up from the table and taking her hand to kiss it. Mel stared at him with a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

"So it's you two I should be mad at, is that it? Sorry, blame not shifted by proxy. And you are…" she prompted, tugging it from his grasp and returning it to her hip with a glower.

"Captain Jack Harkness." He smiled, and waved a hand at the Doctor. "And this is the-"

At this point, Glitz tried to make good his escape, sliding his chair out very quietly and edging backwards. Mel's attention was instantly locked back on him, to the exclusion of all else. If the End Times had a personification, Jack was looking at it.

"I don't care who your friend," she said curtly. "I'm far more interested in socking a so-called "businessman" until the brains leak out his ears –assuming he has any, that is."

Jack looked at the Doctor, but he was too busy staring at Mel as though she was about to vanish to listen to what she was saying.

"Mel, my dear," said Glitz weakly. "I can explain!"

"I'm sure you can!" she retorted. "The day Sabalom Glitz doesn't have a half-dozen of excuses ready; I'll go back to programming!"

"Mel," said the Doctor.

"Not now," said Mel, still fuming. "You know what that loss means? I should sell you for slave labor, I really should."

"Mel," said the Doctor again, just a little louder.

"Except everyone knows you," she continued. "I'd be hard put to find anyone to take you, let alone pay good cash for you –"

Suddenly, a rich, cultured voice boomed, "For Rassilon's sake, Melanie Bush, can't you let a Time Lord talk?!"

Everyone turned in shock to stare at the usually slightly cockney-accented Doctor.

"Sorry," said the Doctor, looking exasperated, now sounding exactly as he always did. "I try not to do that too often. But hey, it got your attention, didn't it?"

Mel stared at him as though he had slapped her. Her breath had hitched as the familiar voice sank into her head, and her eyes instantly narrowed, searching his out. There, past the mischievous features and the childlike wonder was a hint of the endless, timeless depths that once haunted her friend and mentor.

Only the Doctor was unsurprised as she snatched up his hand and pressed her fingers into his pulse-point. Then into his other one. He knew the reason for it; she'd done it before, on an outlying planet called Lakertya.
She had to be sure it was him.

The Doctor watched with long-suffering patience and amusement as she dropped his hand, her face pale. Her hands were trembling faintly. "Good lord…it's…really you. Isn't it." It wasn't a question.

"Course it's me. Who else would be barmy enough to hang out with this lump?" He jerked a thumb in Glitz's direction and grinned. Then his voice softened. "You look good, Mel."

If Mel had been the fainting kind, she probably would've right there and then. Instead, she swallowed, and her pale complexion warmed to a weak smile. "So do you." She stared at him for a minute longer, then let out a half-sob within her delighted laugh and flung her arms around his neck. "Shells, Doctor, I thought you were dead!"

"I'm glad I'm not. It would've been a right waste of time trying to convince you I wasn't otherwise." He chuckled, squeezing her tight for a minute before releasing her. "You've no idea how good it is to see you, Mel." he trailed off, and plastered a smiling bandage over the sad look in his eyes. "It's just brilliant, that's what it is. Absolutely brilliant."

Their audience watched with bemusement.

"So that's your Mel, eh Glitz? Lucky fellow you are, having a partner like that…" Jack mused, folding his arms over his chest lightly and keeping his voice low. Glitz raised an eyebrow and glared at the captain.

"Lucky I might be, but not for the reasons your smutty mind can come up with. I greatly advise hands off; she's probably the one person in Denabi who could take the Jack Harkness libido permanently out of commission." He cautioned in a growl, scowling at the man.

"I shan't dare then. I like my libido as is." Jack grinned and focused his attentions back to the conversation between the two old companions, catching the tail end of Mel's questioning.

"And how's Ace? Still toting around her own brand of unstable explosives, or has she moved onto more sensible forms of destruction?"
Jack sucked in a startled breath and held it with concern, watching the Doctor carefully. Since he'd rejoined the wandering Time Lord, he had eased enough information out of him to learn about some of his past and best companions. Out of all of the toughest cases – Adric, Turlough, Tegan, Jamie, Zoe, Peri, Benny, even Charley – Ace still had the Time Lord's conscience wound up. He had manipulated, used, torn apart and stitched their friendship back together. She was Time's Vigilante, left to guard the rift in Paris, and he still had no idea if she had ever survived the war.

The Doctor took a deep breath and smiled sadly. "Ace is a…long story, Mel. But no, she left some time ago. I'm traveling with Jack now, and a Miss Martha Jones; medical student, vegetarian. You'd like her." He cast a scrutinizing glance around the pub. "I'm getting a little worried, admittedly; it's been nearly 3 hours since she was supposed to meet us."

"You let her wander off alone, in Denabi? You're slipping, Doctor." Mel chided with a smirk, but there was seriousness behind her tone. "This Martha, she's not prone to miss appointments? Ignore a curfew or meeting?" The two men shook their heads to each, casting a glance between them.

"No, she's never forgotten a date, time, or place. Sort of makes her like you, Mel, elephantine memory for detail…" The Doctor said slowly.

"So if she hasn't shown up…" Jack echoed, a sickening feeling dropping his stomach.

"She must be in trouble." They finished together grimly, and the Doctor groaned, casting his eyes to the ceiling.

So much for a day off.

Ooo---oOo---ooO

Martha jolted awake, sucking in a sharp gasp for breath as the haze of chloroform was lifted rather rudely from her mind by a bucket of ice cold water dumped unceremoniously over her head. She coughed raggedly and shook her head briskly, the stagnant liquid dripping from her hair as she blinked the fog from her eyes. Where was she? What happened? What was going on?

She made to move, but quickly discovered she couldn't budge, which only served to make her heart rate jump fearfully. Her hands and feet were immobile, lashed tightly to the structure of a rickety old chair, and a strap around her chest was crushing her to the backboard; how original, she thought sarcastically. From the tingling in her fingers and toes she wagered a guess she'd been there for some time, maybe an hour and a half. As her eyes focused on the dim light, her heart sank to into her stomach: the suns filtering through the slats of the shoddy-looking shed cast enough light to give her a grim realization that she'd been kidnapped. Well frig.

Sorry Doctor.

A hand grabbed her soaked locks and she cried out, startled and in pain, as her head was yanked back, grating her teeth with her best defiantly murderous glare at L'tral, who was smirking at her.

"Waking time, sweet'art. Can't sleep the day away y'know." He chuckled in a manner that gave the medical student chills, though the shed was quite warm. "Deh boss'll want you all nice and chipper fer the big event."

And just who's your boss, I wonder? "Oh that's nice, thanks." She snapped, her brown eyes flickering slightly as her mind worked furiously for a plan. "Should've thought of that before you drugged me."

"Weren't my idea, hon. K'ran here does like his chemicals." L'tral motioned to the snaky little man, who was perched on a barrel not far away, toying with a knife in his grubby fingers. "Yous are the key to the plan, see. M'fraid I hadta." L'tral smiled darkly. "'owever, now that we've got yeh, you're not goin' anywheres. Yous're gonna help us. But I promise there won't be a single hair harmed on yer purdy lil head…if ye keep quiet." Martha glared warily at the man towering over her.

"And why would I trust your word? What if I scream?" She questioned, narrowing her eyes. "I could call for help right now and blow this newsstand to bits."

"Ah, but ye wouldn't, would ye? We've no qualms of putting a few bruises on ye, whelp. S'long as you isn't killed. And when we raid the Star-Striker at nightfall, you'll be comin' along. We need a face to put to the culprit, you see, when we find the Katseye diamond nicked and the ship's crew pushing daisies." K'ran answered, a mad smile that made Martha's blood run cold curled across his lips. "Only a few hours to go, my dear."

She swallowed, glancing over her shoulder at the door, bolted shut tight, and took a steadying breath.

"Well, I say, given no choice in the matter, that I suppose…" the rather vulgar and inappropriate remark that left her lips next, spoken in fluent Wa'rios dialect and referring to where a dishonored warrior could shove his broken sword, was received with a furious growl, and Martha winced, tasting blood on her tongue as L'tral backhanded her across the cheek. They didn't need to speak the language to understand an insult.

Totally worth it.