a/n.: references to chapter 4 and 5

a/n2.: this is the last part of the interlude series, and i swear it'll make perfect sense as soon as i add the last chapter of WtFH.

The Shakespeare child

The Doctor was doing his best to guide his wife through the busy marketplace, while making sure she understood that this time, it really wasn't his fault.

"Rose. I mean it, I didn't have anything to do with this mess. I swear."

"Oh, really? The who do you think is responsible? Tardis? Your evil twin? The bag of jelly babies in your pocket? Or the martians maybe?" ranted Rose, clearly irritated with her husband. She didn't even try to be quiet. She was mad at him, and did nothing to hide that fact from him. Or from the innocent bystanders, who stopped to watch the scene. She didn't care, that half of the people listening to her thought that she was crazy. She was in a foul mood, and she wanted to let out her anger. And maybe a few tears too, because being stranded in the 16th century wasn't her definition of a holiday.

The Doctor was having a hard time too. It wasn't the first time that he miscalculated something and visited a place with a previous self still there, but it was definetly the first time he did it with a woman with her head in hormone city. But the worst thing of all was that she was nine months pregnant, so he couldn't just tell her to shut up and listen. He had to be extra careful and gentle, and had to put up with her calling him an idiot in twelve languages. And thinking of languages, he really had to have a word with his eldest about teaching Rose how to swear.

But back to the topic, "The Tardis wouldn't leave us stranded here, and as far as I know, I don't have an evil twin running around. And the jelly babies are peaceful little things. Also, no, it couldn't have been the martians. They wouldn't be able to operate the old girl even if she let them. Not even with an 'Operating a Tardis for dummies' book," he explained with a quiet chuckle, "And as I said it's not my fault, so it leaves one person as the culprit."

"Who?" sniffed Rose, resting a hand on her belly. The Doctor's hand joined hers there as he answered.

"That'd be our dearest eldest," he said, while edging away from his wife, waiting for an explosion.

It didn't come. Instead, she asked, calmly, "And why would Alex get us stranded in the 16th century England?"

The Doctor was gobsmacked. If it had been his fault and admitted it... he really didn't think about what would have happened. Only their sons could get away with anything.

"I really don't think he did it on purpose. He must've fixed the time-space stabilizer, but forgot to tell me about it. So now, when we landed too close to my past self in time, the timelines crossed, and the stabilizer took our Tardis back to the vortex. But don't worry. When my past self leaves, the Tardis will come back to us."

Rose nodded, satisfied with the explanation. A moment later she smiled and nudged him, with less force than she would've done five minutes earlier. Then she nodded towards the point where their eldest was standing, with their sleeping second-born in his arms.

The Doctor knew it was wrong, but that didn't stop him for waiting for the hell Rose was going to give their son. He was sure that after the horrors he's endured, it would be quite a show.

"Alex? Did you happen to play with the..er..," she looked at the Doctor for some help.

"The time-space stabilizer?" Alex looked confused, so the Doctor added, "The big red and black box I showed you about ten years ago under the control panel?"

After a slight pause, Alex nodded. "Yeah, I think so. It wasn't burnt out like you said, it's only fault was that two wires were switched up. I fixed it. But why do you want to know now? I did it right after you showed me."

"Hold on," interrupted the Doctor's answer Rose, "Are you telling me that the stabili-thingy's been working for ten years?" When Alex nodded, she turned back to the Doctor and asked, "And you, who spends all his freetime in that hole, has never noticed it?"

The Doctor winced, "Yeah. But I haven't been looking for it."

Rose snorted, "Men," then with a strained and obviously forced smile she turned back to Alex and asked, "Did you manage to get two rooms for us?" When she a got a nod as answer, she continued, "Good. Now give me the keys, then make yourself useful, both of you, and get me a doctor."

"Rose, I am the Doctor. What do you need an other doctor for?" asked the Time Lord, then his son decided to throw in his two cents too, and said, "And if it wouldn't be enough, I'm sure you remember that I actually studied medicine. Right?"

"Yes boys, I know. But my water just broke, and I sure as hell won't have either of you deliver Serena. Especially not you, Alex. I'll be probably screaming, then the baby will join me too, and with your dallian flu you'd feel like we were having a party in your skull with a sledgehammer," said Rose, then without waiting for an answer, she walked over to the stairs and stopped, waiting for the Doctor to follow her.

The elder Time Lord turned to his son, and his eyes widened as he caught sight of someone in the corner. He quickly averted his gaze and focused his attention back on Alex, who didn't notice the exchange, because he was too busy dealing with the now awake Sammy.

"Your mother is right. With your..." he trailed off and ran his fingers through his hair. "Do you have any medication with you?" he asked his son. Immediately, Alex put down the protesting Sam and searched his pockets. A minute later he shook his head, and the Doctor muttered, "I thought so," ignoring Alex's confusion at his words.

"I guess you don't have any of it either," spoke up the younger man while picking Sam back up, not asking about his father's words. Yet.

"No. That means that in about five minutes your head and eyes will start to ache, then another five later you'll be praying for the gods you don't believe in for earplugs. Which I don't have on me either."

"Okay. So what do I do?"

"First, get Sammy to eat something. That'll make him sleepy again," he advised, looking at his youngest son. While Sam was already eight, his gallifreyan biology kept him on a stage that meant he was about four years old in human years. It was something the Doctor's always found funny. For the mighty Time Lords it took ten years to reach the maturity and mind-capacity of a five years old human. He's always suspected that it was the real reason behind the invention of their looming-technology. He quickly stopped the musings and continued, "Then you go up to our second room, put your brother down and join him on the land of dreams before the noises start to hurt so much that you won't be able to fall asleep. Try to get some chamomil tea, it might help."

Alex nodded in agreement, then said, "Right. You should go, too. Mum seems to be in pain." Then he hugged his father briefly, squishing Sam between them. "Take care of her."

"I will," promised the Doctor, waving to his youngest. As soon as they got out of his sight, his expression turned serious. He knew what was going to happen, knew that one day in Cardiff his past self would understand it too, but he couldn't stop his hearts from breaking a little.

Carefully, he changed his expression into one of nervous excitement, and went to help his wife up the stairs.

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On the other side of the tavern, the Doctor was listening to Martha, who was telling him about her years as a med student. They had just escaped Queen Elizabeth's guards and the Doctor was ready for the next adventure, but Martha didn't want to leave yet. She said that after such a few days, she deserved a pint. Grudgingly, the Doctor agreed, and set the coordinates, so they would arrive two days before their first arrival.

Martha was in the middle of telling him about her ex-roomate when a newcomer entered the room. The Doctor glanced up briefly, then back to Martha. And a second later it registered in his mind who the man really was, and where was the last time he's seen him.

Carefully, not drawing attention he lifted his gaze back on the brown haired man and studied him. He was fairly young –maybe twenty-three--, tall, and had somewhat familiar blue eyes. Only when he shifted did the Doctor notice the child in his arms. The young boy was about four years old, and bore an uncanny resemblance to the man who was holding him. Though his eyes were different, the Doctor could recognise them anywhere, on anyone. They were Rose's, but flecked with blue. The man's familiar shade of blue.

The Doctor continued to watch the man and the boy, and when he saw the man stumble, he was ready to jump up and go over, while wondering if the man was drunk. He was snapped out of his musing by Martha, who was clicking his fingers in front of his face.

"Doctor, is everything alright? You kinda spaced out a little?" asked the woman.

"Yeah, I'm fine. But we should go. Here's the key to the Tardis, go back, I'll be there a few minutes after you. I have to take care of somthing first," he said.

"I could wait for you here, too," offered Martha, but the Doctor declined.

"Please Martha, go," he said. Martha's heard the plea in his voice, so she left without more questions.

After she disappeared from his sight, the Doctor took a deep breath and walked to the table where a very frustrated human was trying to feed some soup to a squirming toddler. The Doctor sat down, and the motion caused the man to look at him with slightly dazed eyes, trying to determine who he was. After a moment or two the man nodded to himself and continued to feed the boy –or at least, tried.

The Doctor was suprised. The young man in front of him has aknowledged his presence, but didn't do anything about it. He thought that the other man would at least make a comment about the place being the favourite spot of time-travellers. But the human remained silent.

And if there was a thing the Doctor disliked, it was silence. So he cleared his throat. He grinned when the younger man looked up again –the grin was obviously forced, and looked like a grimace, but he didn't care. The stranger started to roll his eyes, but winced suddenly and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. The Time Lord had to smile at the little boy's reaction. He hugged the man and placed a 'healing' kiss on his forehead, and whispered something into his ear. The man winced again, and the toddler turned to the Doctor, and in a serious and quiet, but adorably childish voice he explained,

"He is ill. But Mommy's not here to kiss it better, so I have to make him better. When I'm ill Mommy reads me stories, but I can't read him 'cause I can't read. I miss Mommy. I cried, but he hurts when he hears voices too, so I have to be careful to be quiet, so I can't tell him the tales I know too. I'm not Mommy. Will my healing work?" he asked with wide eyes, and both of the adults smiled.

"It will," assured him the man quietly.

The Doctor, without a conversation to hold, started to inspect the other's reaction and appearance. At first he thought that the man was drunk, not ill –children often couldn't notice the difference--, but after sniffing the air quietly, he dismissed the theory. So he started thinking, and soon he had the diagnosis. Glazed and aching eyes, a probably throbbing head, clammy and slightly blue-tinted skin from fever and wincing upon hearing a loud noise equaled a nasty dallian flu. Or rather, a nasty, untreated dallian flu.

"Did you manage to get room here?" asked the Doctor, keeping his voice down. The man nodded slowly. "Let's get you two up there. Maybe I can whip up something that makes you feel better."

The stranger looked confused for a moment, then agreed, "Okay."

With one hand the Doctor scooped up the boy –Sammy, if the name on his T-shirt was his actual name-, and reached out to help his companion climb the stairs with the other. Halfway up he couldn't help but question his own motives.

Why the hell was he doing this? Surely not out of love. After all this was the man Rose loved, instead of him. Then why? To get some answers? No way. He was smarter than to torture himself with the 'what if's. After thinking up and dropping a couple of other possibilities, he realised that he had absolutely no idea. He really, honestly didn't know why was he helping his rival.

In the meantime they reached their destination. The Doctor opened the door with the key the younger male handed him, helped the man to the bed in the corner, then put Sam into the other.

While the young man was untying his shoelaces, the Doctor fished a bottle of water –he didn't trust the one in the jug in the room--, and couple of pills out of his pockets. He started to mix the medicines together, but before he could add the last tablet -the one that would've change the DNA of the virus so much, that Sam wouldn't be able to catch the flu- to the pile of pills, the man spoke up.

"Not contagious anymore, no need for that. Really. And the pill makes me nauseus," he whispered, nodding towards the last pill with some difficulty, then added, "Wouldn't have agreed to babysit Sammy if there was a chance he could catch it, you know," he finished, while looking at the Doctor weirdly. Like everything he said was obvious and the Time Lord should've known that.

The Doctor nodded a moment later in understanding. It really did make sense. Rose wouldn't have left her son with somebody who could make him ill. And speaking of Rose...

"So, where is Sam's mother?" he asked.

For a long moment the man was looking at him like he was retarded, but then smiled and answered with a quiet laugh, like he thought the question was just a joke, "Busy giving birth, I think. Not sure."

The Doctor nodded again, and handed the mix of pills to the man, along with the water. He swallowed them without hesitation. That made the Doctor ask, "How do you know I didn't just poison you with those pills?"

The man chuckled again. "Well, if you did, I'd just have to sic a certain blonde on you. I'm sure she'd kill you for placing her son in danger," he said, but his words were slightly slurred. The meds were already working, soon he'd be asleep.

"That she would," agreed the Doctor with a smile. "So, giving birth? Boy or girl? Who is with her? She is not alone right?"

"Girl, Serena. Starts with an S because of Sam. Though I still think it would be nice if it started with an A, like Alex. Me. And not alone. Dad's supposed to be with her," he muttered, the last part with a slightly unfriendly glare. "And thanks for the help, but would you mind not quizzing me? It's just flu, not concussion, no need for a trip down on memory lane. Don't you have somewhere to be?" he asked, his speech even more slurred. The sleep aid he gave the man –Alex maybe?—kicked in, he was falling asleep.

He helped Alex lay down, then turned to walk away. But he caught sight of Sammy, who was trying to climb into the bed next to Alex. Without a word, he lifted him up and put him next to man the Doctor thought was his father. Immediately Sammy burrowed his way into Alex's arms, who moved to make some place for the little body and pulled the boy closer, protecting Sam in his sleep. Then the Time Lord picked up a blanket and covered them up with it, unconsciously treating him like they were his children.

He was suprised to realise that he didn't hate Alex as much as he thought he would. But the suprise turned into pain when he accidentally touched the man's head while tucking him in. He was hit by a memory. Future or past, he didn't know, and he didn't care. Seeing Rose hugging Alex and telling him 'I love you' was enough. Pete and Jackie were there too, smiling at them, and that meant that the young man was the one to bring Rose back from the parallel world. He didn't want to dwell on the scene.

The Doctor quickly made his way to the door, and was halfway out, when a sleepily muttered "Thanks Dad" reached his ears. He turned back to see Alex close his eyes and go back to sleep.

The Doctor didn't know what to say, the young man was obviously delirious, so he just gave the sight a pained smile and left the room without another word.

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The younger Doctor didn't know that someone was watching him. Someone who knew how he was feeling.

The older Doctor, father of three, followed his younger self with his eyes until he disappeared, before entering his sons' room.

He stepped to the bed, crouched down and kissed his younger son's forehead, then did the same to his eldest.

He tucked them in again, then left the room and went to join his wife and newborn daughter.