"So how does this work, exactly? I'm sort of confused," Alba asked from her perch on the exam table. They were in the TARDIS infirmary, and the Doctor was preparing to test her to see how far along she was in her pregnancy.
He held up a small device that looked very similar to the blood glucose testing kits used by diabetics on old Earth, just slightly larger and surprisingly, more streamlined. "Just a prick of the finger, that's all it requires. It barely even hurts. The device only needs a small amount of blood to properly run the test. It works by measuring the levels of hormones in your body in a more precise and exact way than a normal pregnancy test would. It detects the levels of human chorionic gonadotropin and progesterone to calculate and produce an estimate of how far along a pregnancy is, with an almost 99.9% rate of accuracy."
"And you developed it?" she asked him.
"Yes I did," he answered proudly. "Sold the patent on it, and now they use it in doctor's offices and hospitals all over the planet."
"I thought you were just a chemist. Seems you're a botanist and inventor and all sorts of other things, too," she said, extending her hand to him so he could collect the blood sample. Just as promised, it was a quick prick of the finger, no more painful than a paper cut. Actually, it hurt significantly less than a paper cut, which she had always hated. She used to get them all the time working in the shops, unpacking cardboard boxes of merchandise shipments.
"Ah well, you know what they say. Jack of all trades, master of none," he replied glibly.
"Well I don't know about that. You certainly seem to be a master in the bedroom," she said, tongue poking its way between her teeth.
He waggled his eyebrows at her in a rather lewd fashion. "Well, everyone has things that they are naturally talented at. Like you with cooking. And...other things."
She rolled her eyes at him. "I had a feeling you were going to say something like that."
"You're the one who brought it up," he said, holding his hands up in supplication.
"How long does it take the device to perform the test, anyway?" she questioned.
"It usually takes about five minutes, sometimes less. The internal computer has to analyze the test sample before it can make an educated estimate," he answered.
They waited patiently while the machine worked it all out. After several minutes, it emitted a sharp iping/i, signalling that the test was complete. The Doctor put on his glasses, and peered at the results. "According to the device, you're approximately five weeks pregnant. So you were pregnant before I even gave you that fertility shot a few weeks ago. Imagine that."
"Well I guess I'm just naturally fertile," she replied.
"Maybe so," he agreed, nodding his head.
"So," she said, twirling a lock of hair around her fingers. "This thing has an infirmary. What else does it have?"
The Doctor chuckled. "Better ask what it idoesn't/i have. There's a pool, a library, a kitchen, bedrooms, a cricket pitch, a garden, all sorts of different things."
She raised her eyebrows at him. "And you built it all? How do you build something that's bigger than the room you're building it in?"
"Well," he said, drawing the word out. "It's not exactly built, per se. It's actually grown."
A confused look passed over her face. "How d'you mean grown? How can you grow a time machine?"
"A few years ago, I was traveling using the vortex manipulator, and I came across this planet that had naturally occurring psychic, transdimensional coral. Practically anything, even living things, can be hacked if you have the right codes. I took a sample of the coral back to Gallifrey with me, and began running experiments on it. Eventually, I figured out a way to sort of program the coral to grow in specific patterns. And that's how the TARDIS was born."
"You grew a time machine."
"I grew a time machine," he confirmed with a smile.
"But where did all the stuff come from? The furniture and all that. Did you drag it all in here by yourself?"
"Nah. The TARDIS, once it was properly 'hacked', can grow practically anything. Think of it like a 3D printer almost. If you have the right template, you can use it to make anything. The TARDIS works on a similar principle. Give it the template for a kitchen, and it will create a kitchen. Give it a template for a bedroom, it'll create a bedroom."
"But how? How does it read the templates? I don't understand."
He smiled wryly at her. "And you probably never will. It's rather hard to explain in non-technical terms, and though you are quite intelligent, it would probably still go right over your head. Some things in life remain a mystery, and that's okay. The day you know everything is the day life ceases to have meaning."
"I suppose," she replied uncertainly.
"Don't worry about it. Not knowing doesn't take the fun out of it, not really. All you need to know about the TARDIS is that it's safe, and it can travel anywhere in time and space."
"So...a pool. Fancy a swim?" she asked.
"We're not dressed for swimming," he replied. "And anyway, you don't even have a bathing suit."
"Yeah, I know. I figured we could swim naked," she replied coyly.
The Doctor's face split into a grin. "Oh Mrs. McCrimmon, I like the way you think."
The Doctor waited until Harry's back was turned to discreetly slip a few drops of the truth serum into his coffee. Harry turned back around and the Doctor plastered an innocent look onto his face.
"So what do you want, anyway? You never stop by my office," Harry said.
"Oh, I was just going to invite you and Rani for dinner again. The last time I asked, you said you were busy," the Doctor replied.
Harry narrowed his eyes at him. "Why would we come over to your house for dinner?"
"Because we're family? And that's what families do, they have dinner with each other," the Doctor replied, shifting uncomfortably.
"You're running on the assumption that we actually like each other. Which, obviously, we don't," Harry answered nastily.
"I know we haven't always gotten along, but we are brothers. Well, half-brothers, but still. You're pretty much the only living family I have left, I'd like it if we could start repairing our relationship. Besides...you're also the only uncle my child will have."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "Rose is pregnant?"
"Yep," the Doctor replied, popping the 'p'. "Just five weeks, we found out yesterday."
"Well congratulations, I guess," Harry said, not sounding even remotely sincere. They both knew what Rose being pregnant meant-that the Doctor would be able to challenge Harry and Rani's attempts to take control of the business.
"And what about you guys? How are things going with the surrogate?" the Doctor asked amiably.
A sour look crossed over Harry's face. "Things with the surrogate fell through. We're looking into adoption instead."
"Oh, that's a shame," the Doctor replied, barely concealing his glee. "Still, there's a lot to be said for adoption. You're giving a child who wouldn't otherwise have one a chance at having a home and a family. That's rather noble of you two."
"Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, I'll have to talk to Rani about dinner. If you didn't need anything else, I have work to be getting back to," Harry replied brusquely.
"Oh, no worries. I'll just pop by later, after you've had a chance to talk to her about it," the Doctor said cheerfully, getting up from his chair.
Harry watched him disappear out the door. He knew the Doctor was up to something, but he didn't know what. There was no love lost between the two of them, and up until now, the Doctor had shown no interest in trying to maintain a relationship with himself and Rani. What could that smarmy, smug bastard be planning?
He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and turned back to the report on his computer screen. He'd worry about it later.
Alba was waiting anxiously by the front door when the Doctor got home. She sprung to her feet when she heard the clicking of his key in the door. "Well?" she asked, eagerly when he'd stepped inside the penthouse. "Did you do it? Did you dose Harry with the truth serum?"
"I did indeed," he replied with an infectious grin. "And not only that, I got him to admit to stealing the vortex manipulator. I recorded the confession, and turned it into the authorities. Harry's been made redundant, himself and Rani have been kicked off the board of trustees, and he's going to jail for stealing the vortex manipulator. The company takes theft of property, intellectual or otherwise, very seriously. Harry's going away for a very long time."
Alba squealed with delight. "Oh, that's brilliant! So does that mean…?"
"Yes. I have complete control of the company now, with no one to challenge my authority. The business is mine, unequivocally. I did it, I actually beat Harry at his own game."
"Well, this is definitely cause for celebration," Alba declared.
"What did you have in mind?" the Doctor replied.
She raised her eyebrows at him suggestively, and began tugging him down the hall towards the closet.
"Oh, I was hoping it was going to be something like that," the Doctor said with a grin.
"I've been thinking," Alba said, as they were laying in bed next to each other.
"Oh?" the Doctor replied. "So that's what that burning smell was."
Alba slapped his chest playfully. "Shut up, you chav."
"Oh, relax, I was only teasing. Anyway, what have you been thinking about?"
"I've been thinking," Alba said slowly. "That I'd like to get a job."
The Doctor turned onto his side so he could look her in the face. "A job? What for? I've got plenty of money, especially now that I have complete control of the company. There's no need for you to work-I'm perfectly capable of providing for the both of us. Well, the three of us, actually," he amended.
"Yeah, I know. It isn't about the money, honestly. I'd just like to get out of the house more often, y'know? There's only so much cooking, cleaning and reading a girl can do before she starts to go spare. Besides...I live here now. Gallifrey is my home. I want to be a part of it, a part of society. And anyway, with Harry in jail, what's the danger in me leaving the house on my own?" she said.
The Doctor seemed to ponder this. "I'm sure I could probably get you at job at my company. Being the man in charge does come with its benefits."
"I don't want to work with you, or have you get me a job. People will think I get special treatment just because I'm your wife. I want to strike out on my own, find something I could maybe enjoy doing. At least until the baby comes. After that, I suppose I'd need to stay home again," she countered.
"You really want to get a job?"
"Yes."
The Doctor sighed, and scrubbed at his face. "I have a very hard time saying no to you. I suppose if you wanted to find something part-time, there's nothing wrong with that."
"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" Alba exclaimed, throwing her arms around him as best as she could with them both laying down.
"Well, it's your prerogative if you want to become a wage slave like the rest of us. If you change your mind and decide you'd rather stay home or come work for me, just let me know."
"If I change my mind, you'll be the first one to know," she said with a smile.
"Alright then. Any other requests?" he asked wryly.
"Well, now that you mention it, I was thinking it might be nice if we could get a dog," she said.
He raised his eyebrows at her. "You want a dog?"
"Well, yeah," she replied. "Having a pet is good for your health. Besides, it'd be nice to have the companionship."
"Who's going to take care of the dog if we're both working?" he asked.
"Jack, of course. He does everything else for you, I don't see why a dog would be a problem," she answered.
"I suppose," he said with a sigh. "What kind of dog would you want?"
"Well, definitely not one with no nose. That'd just be weird. I was thinking a dachshund, or maybe a corgi? A lap dog, nothing really big."
"Hmm," the Doctor said, pondering this. "I suppose I wouldn't mind having a dachshund. I mean, they are pretty cute. What color would you want?"
"Oh, I don't know. I don't suppose it really matters. Chocolate, maybe? Or black and tan," she replied.
"If we did get a dog, I'd probably want a female. Males are prone to marking, sometimes even after you have them neutered," the Doctor said matter of factually. "And I'll be damned if I live in a place that smells like a zoo."
Alba laughed. "Fair enough. Female doxie it is. Now we just have to think of a name."
"Something German, maybe, would be appropriate. Katja, Cassie, Kikka, Clara…"
Alba wrinkled her nose. "Clara? No thanks. Kikka might be cute, though. Anyway, why'd you pick names that all have a 'c' or 'k' sound?"
"I don't know, because they feel more German?" he replied.
"Is it really necessary for the dog to have a German name?I mean, isn't that a little obvious?"
"I guess," the Doctor replied with a shrug. "What would you suggest as alternatives?"
"If we got a chocolate dachshund, we could name her Cocoa," Alba suggested.
"Like Coco Chanel, the French fashion designer?"
"No, not like the French fashion designer. Like the hot beverage people like to enjoy in front of fires during the winter," she replied, as though it were obvious. Which, it kind of was.
"Ah, cocoa. Like hot chocolate. Makes sense," he said, stroking his chin. "Alright, yeah, Cocoa. I like it. Good choice."
She beamed back at him. "I'm glad you think so."
"Now," he said, tracing his finger along the curve of her jaw. "Back to more pressing issues."
"Such as?"
He pressed himself against her, and she could feel that he was quite aroused. "Ah. You literally meant 'pressing'."
He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. "What can I say? Just being around you turns me on."
"Well, if you must," she said, her tongue poking its way between her teeth.
"Oh, I must," he replied, caressing her breast.
"Well then, Mr. McCrimmon. What are you waiting for?"
