A/N: Jelly Babies in white paper bags for reviewers, right here!
Hi mirth513! Glad you are feeling better. Yes, Riddick's voice is --- Sex for your ears. Hubba, hubba. :-P Rose has yet to see his eyes, so it's his voice she's noticing at the moment. Just you wait; she'll get a look at his eyes yet.
PS: the Scene with Mal, Zoë and Jayne is based on a flashback scene from 'Out of Gas' as seen in the show Firefly.

Summary: The Doctor, reeling from the effects of the TimeWar as the last surviving TimeLord, stumbled into a situation he could not ignore when the TARDIS landed him inside a ship that was clearly in trouble. After the rescue, he's left with eight survivors that he must somehow get to safety. But the situation is not as cut and dry as he might like. His people may be gone, but the stamp he's made on the universe is still there, and he finds himself caught in a web spun of the choices he's made in his past…

Something in history has prompted humanity to explode out from their home world. Could the events of 2164 be responsible? Was Earth a myth or was it real? In fleeing Earth-that-Was, humanity scattered to the stars across the galactic arm. Initial survey teams targeted likely planets and systems for habitation and not all of them ended up on the same side of the sector. Blue Sun exists on one side, separated by a patch of 'wild space' filled with exotic binary and triple star systems, from the rest of civilized space. Few ships brave the route. But luck had it that one ship did. Risking a ghost run, the only contact that the two sides have, the Hunter-Gratzner crashed midway through the journey. Original Port of Departure: Eavesdown Docks, Persephone. Mixed Sino-Anglo culture. Original Port of Call: Tangiers-5. Darkside. Mixed Islamic-Anglo culture. Crew complement: Four. Passengers: Forty. Living 'Cargo': Two. Survivors: Eight plus One

So what happens in 2517 to Dr. Simon Tam, his brilliant but damaged sister, a convicted murder by the name of Richard B. Riddick, and Jack B. Badd now that they are on their way home? They end up slightly out of their own Time, on a ship filled with living sculptures and then a 'quiet' trip to 2005 London brings them face to face with living sculptures of another kind… And just how is this related to the TimeWar?

A Doctor Who / Firefly / Riddick crossover.

Features Doctor 9, companion Rose Tyler; The cast of Firefly; 'Jack B. Badd' and Richard B. Riddick…

Doctor Who and the Ties that Bind.

Part Twenty-Five

Flibbertigibbet

Mickey Smith's apartment, number ninety, just happened to exist on the side of the estate where nothing would grow. As it was discovered, much to the project's beautification committee's distraught efforts, over the course of several attempts. The only thing to be done there was to 'fake' it. So where other locations had real plants in soil, outside number ninety was a plastic planter, filled with brown plastic pellets for soil, and fairly realistic plastic plants consisting of a fig tree, some wisteria faded to white from the sun, vine ivy, and some generic geraniums in a strange pinkish red color. Even the planter itself was fake plastic pottery, large enough to almost fill the landing when turned the wrong way. It could easily hide an adult in the thing, cramped but still. He'd wondered when it was first put in if someone planed on hiding a body inside it. Since then, Mickey himself had gotten to the point that he barely saw the monstrous thing.

Now for him, it was a normal day. For the moment at least. He was doing like he normally did on his day off. Lounging around his place, puttering on his computer and just barely cooking enough to boil water. Days off were meant for relaxing, after all.

The dark skinned man knew there'd be no lunch with Rose at the fountain today, because she had no job to go to. She'd seemed fine enough the night before and he wasn't really that concerned about her. She had said that she wasn't inside when the place blew, and he expected that she hadn't even seen it go. It was possible that Rose had been on the bus already and found out only when it appeared on the news.Not to say that she shouldn't have been a bit shaken up by the entire thing, really. He knows he would've been had it been his job at the garage. Odd that the shop had blown up though. He had yet to hear what caused it. All he knew was that there was nothing to be saved of the building, the fire had gutted it.

He hears a knock on the front door like a hard rubber ball hitting it. Now, who's tossin' stuff at my door this time? Mickey steps 'round to the door and opens it expecting to see a small handball sized object on the balcony. There's nothing there. He leans out further, looking left and right, thinking maybe it rolled. Nothing. That's odd. He pulls back and closes the door, not seeing the ivy vine from the planter that was slowly moving his direction. It pulls short and shakes like it's cold or angry. After a moment the fig tree gives the door another mighty thump.

Mickey, inside the kitchen, peers out the window, a coffee mug half washed out in one hand, water and suds dripping onto the counter. He's not going to the door until he spots the little shit playing around with the ball. There's no sign of the rascal near the door, and no sign looking the other way either. He flips the window open, "If you're hidin' below my window here, and thinking that I don't mind your little prank, you're wrong. This better not be Danny fiddlin' about, because if I catch you, I'll haul you to your dad by your ear, even if he's at work." The boy knows he'll do it too, just like he did last month when he caught him messing with Jackie and Rose's cat flap by pushing people's cats through it.

Finishing up the mug, he fixed himself some coffee and was heading back into the bedroom when another thump rattled his door. He paused. Gonna kill that kid, Mickey thought. He put the coffee down and threw open the front door to find… the fake fig tree in front of it. What the -- He expects to find the planter itself has been moved, but the ground is clear. Instead, it looks like the tree has been distorted over, almost like it was made of the flexible stuff with wire inside. He knows it is not, so how did it get bent so? Mickey reaches out and grips the branches of the thing and manages to turn it so that it is bent the other way, leaving his door clear. He then fixes it with a glare and closes the door, intending to go back to his day.

Picking up his mug, he wanders into the bedroom and begins sorting through his email. Outside the plastic planter, using the ivy and wisteria vines to pull itself along, begins scraping itself over to his bedroom window, one slow painstaking inch at a time. While Mickey hears the scraping sound, he's fed up with the entire strangeness of the morning and puts on some music to drown it out. About five minutes pass, and he hears another thump, this time on glass, rattling his windowpane enough to nearly break it. "Come on then, Danny! I'm gonna have your dad tan your hide and I'll stay to watch!" He gets up and marches out onto the landing and trips over the planter that is between the front door and his bedroom window. He manages to not end up flat on his face. How the hell --

There's no way the kid could have moved the planter. It's too heavy for even Mickey to move. He walks around it looking for skid marks. There's nothing. He steps back and stares at it, noting that the Wisteria is not the same shape and the ivy trails across the landing, instead of being entwined in the now straight fig tree. He bends to pick the vines up and put them back inside the planter. They proceed to twist around his hands and feet, although he's unaware of that yet, too intent on getting the vines he's picked up back where they belong. He pauses and untangles one strand, which he places back over a tree branch.

Only – when he goes to pull away, the skin of the plastic branch stretches like gum, stuck to him. "Huh?"

Therein begins a tug of war, with his trying to get free, and the suddenly hostile plastic plants trying to not let him. And really, there's no way he can win, not with the vines of ivy and wisteria binding him, and the fig tree intent on giving them time to tighten their grip even more. He goes to step back and trips, landing hard on the walkway, "Ugh!" The entire planter seems to move toward him, leaning over. Mickey attempts scrambling away on his hands and knees even though the plastic film is still stick to his hand and is fighting his attempt, only to find that the ivy is like sticky brambles, catching his skin and clothes. It starts dragging him back, "Ahh!" He grips the rail with one foot, struggling with all his might. Then his shoe pops off. The next thing he knows is he's in the air then he's slurped inside the planter, under the pellets and plants before he goes unconscious.

Some of the pellets sort of boil and the other shoe pops out of the brown pellets like a discarded sunflower seed shell before the planter goes still. Mickey's door slowly closes.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

This day wasn't turning out quite like Mal'd planned. Then again, most days didn't. However this was the first time that they'd been held up at gunpoint just moments away from liftoff. He and Zoë are both on the open ramp to the hold to his ship with their hands in the air facing three very ugly armed scruffy men that all looked like bathing was a foreign concept. The leader looks like he's trying to pull off the old 'Mexican outlaw' look, and isn't quite successful at it. "He's gonna talk to us about 'reason,' now." He says to the larger uglier man to his right.

The fella to his left kind of makes a swaggering motion, "Yeah. That's a joke." Of the three he looks the most intelligent and the least respected. And the cleanest. Might be something there that Mal can exploit.

He leans over to Zoë slightly, "Which one you figure tracked us?"

She raises and eyebrow at him and indicates Jayne with a slight tick of her face, something he wouldn't catch had he not spent the last, say, fifteen years with her near night and day. She says, "The ugly one, sir." It's very deadpan. He can't tell if she's joking or not.

After a pause he asks, "Could you be more specific?" He knows this is insulting, but he's also betting that the three with the guns are none too bright.

The leader of the trio in front of them makes a motion that gets Mal's attention again, "Do we look reasonable to you?"

"Well," Mal glances over the three, "Looks can be deceiving." Or he hopes so anyhow. Do these other two even know the meaning of clean?

The neatest of the three, still being taken for granted says, "Not as deceiving as a low down dirty..." he pauses for a moment, digging through his brain for the word he wants. Not finding it he finishes with, "deceiver."

Yep, he can use that, Mal thinks, the fact that they aren't paying the younger man that much mind, likely means that they aren't paying him much of anything, "Well said," The captain of Serenity eases into flattering the man, trying to get some feel for how to hook him. Then he looks to his second for some back up, "Wasn't that well said, Zoë?"

Now, what is going on in that crazy head of yours? Zoë thinks. She better play along, because he's got something up his sleeve and she is pretty sure that his hunch is a good one whatever it might be, "Had a kind poetry to it, sir."

She notes that the man on the left is antsy, "You want I should shoot 'em now, Marco?" Ah, so that's whom we're dealing with. Marco. Right. That's good to know.

"Wait until they tell us where they put the stuff," Marco orders.

The left fella says, "That's a good idea." He nods, "Good idea. Tell us where the stuff's at so I can shoot you."

Mal turns his full attention to the brown haired man, "Point of interest? Offering to shoot us might not work so well as an incentive as you might imagine." He shrugs, "Anyway, we've hidden it. So, you kill us, you'll never find it."

Taking credit for hunting them down he retorts back, "Found you easy enough."

"Yeah. Yeah you did, didn't you?" Mal looks impressed at the fella, letting him see that he appreciates the feat even if the man's current leader does not, "How much they paying you?"

This throws the brawny gun-for-hire. Clearly he's not used to anyone paying him much more than a passing glance, "Huh?"

Hitting his stride, Mal takes on a conversational air, "I mean, let's say you did kill us. Or didn't." He shrugs, "There could be torture. Whatever. But somehow you found the goods. What would your cut be?"

Blinking, the man says, "Seven percent, straight off the top."

"Seven? Oh." He lets his surprise boil over. He expected maybe the fella was making a quarter cut, and out of a third that would be low.

The other man narrows his eyes, "What?"

"Hmm? Nothing. Not a thing. No, I just..." He looked over at Zoë who he noticed looked just about as shocked as he did, "That seem low to you?"

"It does, sir."

Now he looks offended, "That ain't low..."

Sensing trouble, Marco orders, "Stop it."

"Seven percent's standard," the fella declares.

Laughing openly, Mal looks over at Zoë, "Okay. Zoë, I'm paying you too much." She shrugs.

"Why? What does she get?" He's getting curious now, and Mal knows he's almost got him.

"Knock it off," Marco orders again, now though he's getting the same amount of treatment that he was giving the young man in the first place.

Mal moves his arms a bit wider, taking on an innocent air, "Look, forget I said anything. I'm sure you're treated very well. You get the perks. Got your own room." At that the fellow makes a face, and Mal knows he can adjust the percentage a bit because he's got other things he can offer besides money, "No? You share a bunk?"

He makes a motion to the scruffy, smelly man on Marco's right, "With that one."

Mal doesn't need to act disgusted because he is. Who would willingly share a bunk with such a scumbag? "Really?"

"Jayne, this ain't funny," Marco says.

Jayne glowers at everything, finally getting the picture that he's been ripped off and abused, "Yeah, I ain't laughin'."

Time to sink the hook, Mal thinks, "You move on over to this side, we'll not only show you where the stuff's at -- we'll see to it you get your fair share. Not no sad 'seven.'"

Jayne actually wavers, "Private room?" He sounds so hopeful.

"Jayne!"

Both Mal and Jayne ignore Marco, "Your own room. Full run of the kitchen. Whole shot," Mal assures the hired gun.

Narrowing his eyes now, Marco goes to threaten, "Jayne. I ain't aski—" but he doesn't get it out before Jayne makes his decision and shoots him in the leg.

"Shut up." Then his gun swings over to the other bandit. "How big a room?" he asks Mal.

Zoë shakes her head and pulls her weapon aiming at the remaining bandit. Mal says, "Why don't I show you what we got here and you can pick?" Jayne blinks and nods. "Keep 'em covered, Zoë. We'll be right back." She gives him a 'yes sir' as they walk off into Serenity. That worked out well, better than most, even.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The arm had gotten them nowhere. They'd tried everything, and although the signal was still going and steady, if faint, they couldn't trace it back to the source. Feeling frustrated and more than slightly pissed off, the Doctor was glaring at the insistent slow, taunting blip, like that might change something. Rose looked at her watch, "I'm supposed to meet my boyfriend for a date tonight. Maybe we should take a break and get some dinner? I can call him and have him meet us someplace," Rose suggests.

The Time Lord glowered, but Richard cut off anything he might have said when he put his hand on the back of his neck and kneaded it for a moment, "Sure. We can sit in a different area just in case he wants some time with you. Come on, we could use the time to regroup and figure this out, huh?" His last question is directed at the blue eyed alien. He sighed and nodded, his face softening. This was his fault. He should have remembered that they'd need a head to actually track the signal. But a lot had happened since then, hundreds of years and half a dozen lifetimes had passed. It just figured that he'd overlook something like that.

Rose turned and plucked up her phone out of her pocket, missing the slow closing of those impossibly deep blue eyes and the lean backwards as the pale Time Lord settled into the bronze complexioned man's touch. "Hey, Mickey! Yeah, I know I was supposed to call you earlier. I've been… working. Got a job already. It might mean doing some traveling though, so I thought perhaps we could still go out tonight."

Over the phone Mickey responds, "Work-ing? Good. Out tonight. Yes."

Rose doesn't notice anything strange, "So -- what are we going to do tonight? I fancy a pizza."

"Pizza! Puh-puh-puh-pizza!" he seems quite enthusiastic.

"Or Chinese," Rose offers.

Happily, Mickey says, "Pizza."

"So, meet you at the usual? Maybe my new boss an' co-workers will want to come, that ok?"

"Sure. Pizza."

"Alright, I'll order a pitcher when I get there." She makes a kissing sound and hangs up. "All set. There's this nice Italian place we go to, I think you'll like it."

It's not worth it to argue, the Doctor realizes. They all set out of the TARDIS back toward the project, and around to the far side where the restaurant is. It's a nice little place. Clean, and the food smells good. Maybe they can have a pleasant meal and think about their next step. Once they inside, he, River, Simon, Richard and Jack settle off in a booth, near enough to see where Rose goes, but not so close to be in the way. But the Doctor still has his PDA in his pocket and when Rose's boyfriend comes in looking rather shiny, with a bright smile, but a plastic sheen all the same, the Doctor looks, pulls out his PDA and scans under the table then gives Richard a very strange look. "What?"

"Looks like it is coming to us," glances down at his readings and then shows them to Richard.

"Should we warn her?" Simon inquires.

"Just go buy three bottles of bubbly, Simon. Then wait until River signals you." He nods and gets up from the table.

Rose kisses Mickey and pours him a beer, "So this new job, I'm gonna have to go out of town and stuff, and I haven't told mum yet. I'm not sure what she'll do when I do tell her. I'm going to miss you, not seeing you every day, but I can't pass this up. It just is too good a deal. And really, it's a chance of --"

"So where did you meet this Doctor?" Mickey interrupts. Rose blinks. What? She hasn't mentioned the Doctor to him. She cocks her head at him, "'Cause I reckon it all started at the shop. Am I right? Was he something to do with that?"

"No. What are you talking about?"

Mickey looks at her, "Come on. The explosion yesterday. Was he involved?"

"I've got no idea who you are jabbering about. I've not mentioned any doctor."

"What was he doing there? Why did the shop blow up?"

Rose leans back in her seat, "I'm not going on about it, Mickey, really, I'm not. I know it sounds daft, but I don't think it's safe." Dropping her voice to a whisper, "It's dangerous. And it's likely classified."

The oddly shiny Mickey isn't blinking as much as he should be either, "But you can trust me, sweetheart - babe - darling - babe - sugar." Rose stares at him, and then looks around, getting the faint impression that something is not right. But Mickey doesn't notice, "You can tell me anything. Tell me about the Doctor and what he's planning and I can help you, Rose, 'cause that's all I really want to do sweetheart – babe–babe–babe. – Sugar – sweetheart." He's sounding oddly mechanical and he hasn't touched his beer.

Very much not like Mickey. "What are you doing that for?" Rose asks.

Now Simon, River tells her brother. He picks up the bottles and a serving set-up. Quickly he moves to the table pushing his cart, "Your champagne, Madam, Sir." Both Richard and the Doctor move up behind Rose, rather out of the synthetic man's radar.

The bogus man does not take his eyes off of Rose; "We didn't order any champagne." Simon slides to the other side of the table as Mickey continues, "Where is the Doctor?" He puts a hand over Rose's hand and grips. She knows suddenly that this is not her boyfriend, nor even something human, the hand over hers is plastic. "I need to find out how much you know. So where is he?"

Another voice comes from the side of the waiter; "Doesn't anybody want this champagne?"

"Look, we didn't order it –" Plastic Mickey looks up and sees the three men, two pale and one with a bronze complexion, all shaking bottles of the bubbly wine, "Ah, gotcha."

Rose turns. The Doctor gives her a manic grin, "Don't mind us. We're just toasting the happy couple. On the house!" In synch, three corks fly at the imitation Mickey. Pop. Pop. Pop. While he's distracted, letting go of Rose, River snags her from the table and moves her out of the way. At least one cork hits the plastic man in the face and another his hand.

The substitute Mickey spits out a cork and gets to his feet, "Anyway ..." He alters his hand into something better suited as a weapon and smashes the table.

"Simon, get River, Rose, and Jack out of here," orders the tall tanned man, as the pale one the phony Mickey is after dodges to the side. Simon tugs the others toward the back. The nearest patrons are already scrambling to get out of the way as the plastic humanoid form destroys the restaurant in an effort to kill the Doctor who is playing a fair game of keep away with it. Richard lunges and gets in to a choke hold. They needed a head, looks like they might be able to use this one, if he can get it off the body. The plastic man continues to struggle, smashing things at random. There's a whirl as the Time Lord brings his sonic screwdriver to bare on the problem and loosens the joint a bit. The head pops off quite suddenly. "Ouf!" Richard loses a lung full of air as he falls, still holding the head. The body falls the other way. "Yeah, thanks, very much, Doctor." He gets back to his feet.

"Just a dummie, a err… Robot gone wrong. It's ok; we have it under control now. Um… Why don't you all just exit the building quickly? Yes. Thank you," says the Doctor as he tries to shoo the upset patrons out before they erupt into blind panic.

Behind him the head in Richard's hands opens its eyes, "-- Don't think that's gonna stop me."

Turning, the Doctor smiles at the plastic talking head. Oh, this is good. Should get a nice strong steady signal out of this bit. Behind him the body gets to its feet. Rose realizes that people are going to get hurt unless they get out, so she turns and pulls the fire alarm even as people are starting to panic, "Everyone out! Out now!" At the same time, she, the Doctor, Simon, River, Jack and Richard, who still has the plastic head, run for the back, "Get out! Get out! Get out!" The plastic Mickey body begins destroying the dining area as it vaguely heads their way. They run.