"Come with me."
One minute you're inviting a new companion along, the next: you've blinked and he's gone. You're both gone. You're both pulled through a crack in time and space. Through the rift of dimensionality and now they've been separated. This is getting increasingly puzzling.
'God save us if we ever meet a weeping angel,' the Doctor thinks to herself. As a Time Lord, she has felt only a couple minutes amiss. What has it been for John? Why has the rift in time pulled them into and through, instead of like before? "Now, where in the world is John Smith?"
Although there's no answer, the auburn haired woman starts back to the TARDIS. In all honesty, she really does hope John intended to say yes. A short time with him and he seemed fully prepared to shoulder the burden of her company. He was brilliant, truly, and if she's too honest with herself he might do her some good.
"Adipose?" the Doctor scrunches her pretty face into a befuddled expression before entering. She kicks the door shut behind her. "Adipose Industries; what would John be doing there?"
Time has bent around you; what has happened to the human?
"I don't know how his reality has been altered because of this," the Doctor answers her sentient, blue friend.
You had better find him, dearest. I did not stuff myself on anomalous temporal energy just so you could lose him!
"Oi, watch the attitude, sweetheart!" The Doctor rolls her eyes at her time machine. She hopes it hasn't been too hard on John. Oh, no—what if he didn't even survive the changes? No, the Sonic found his signature stable, so there's that at least. But what happened?
The TARDIS wavers into view in an alley, behind a boldly blue car. The Doctor, wearing a corporate kind of outfit, pops her head out, making sure no one is moseying about. Once she's sure she continues out and onward. She does appreciate having the opportunity to wear heels, even if they can be impractical in her particular field of work.
It doesn't take long to find Adipose Industries, an imposing building of glass windows. The Doctor spies a paper, marking a date a good year after she met John. It makes a kind of aching appear in her chest. Although she didn't actually experience a year's separation, she certainly knows what it's like to have time play a trick on you. Time in The Library will mess with anyone's sense of reality. She also hopes John doesn't think she has up and abandoned him.
—
"John Smith, health and safety," he mutters a bit crossly. A whole bloody year he has spent going from job to job. Well, technically a year has passed, even though he remembers being with the Doctor like it was minutes ago. Was it minutes or months ago? He can't remember. Either way, he wishes he was with her, instead of here, toying with this…?
"It's made of eighteen karat gold, and it's yours for free." The woman is on the phone with a client but she talks towards John. He, for all intents and purposes, is well distracted by the funny little capsule of gold. "No, sorry, we don't give out pens."
"I'll just need to keep this for testing," John sighs and takes off. He's supposed to take a client list and check on the newest registrants. There's no use, though. He doesn't intend to keep the job, anyway. He strolls out of the complex with his hands in his pockets.
In a midst the feeling of little and too much time passing, John finds himself greatly discontented. Sometimes he's glad it doesn't feel like a whole year has passed. Other times he wishes he didn't feel so disconnected with his own present. Most of all he misses the Doctor, but can never tell if it's missing her after a year of not seeing her, or after being ripped apart within seconds. Sometimes John thinks that he misses his entire world when he blinks his eyes.
"What time's this then?"
'There it is,' John thinks to himself. "What am I?—a flippin' kid?"
"I might think so with the way you behave, mister," Sylvia snaps at her son. "Work day's not over so you better have a good excuse for bein' here!"
John lets Sylvia grind at him all she likes. She covers all the bases, too. There's the matter of his strange episodes, how he zones out, how he can't hold a job, or a girl. Most of all, Sylvia complains about how he intends to wait for a woman of great mystery. He has told her nothing of the Doctor, only that he will not go anywhere until he has found her.
All these matters are covered in the time it takes him to switch coats and get a thermos of tea.
"Where's Granddad?" it's a tired, sad little question.
Always up the hill indeed. It's a wonder the man missed his only grandson's wedding from Spanish flu. Still, if it makes an old man happy (and away from Sylvia) John can only encourage the habit.
"Permission to come aboard, sir?" he greets his Gramps with a salute.
"Permission granted, me boy!" Wilf chuckles. "She gave you what for I imagine."
"Yeah, the usual," John sits himself down. It's just becoming dusk now; not dark enough for stars. "What are you doin' out here in the light? Surely you can't see anything."
"Venus," answers Wilf. He holds a finger up to where one bright celestial body shines. "The only planet in our solar system named after a woman."
John bounces his eyebrows and a smile comes to his face before he can figure why. "Good for her."
"Thinkin' about your doctor again, eh? Isn't there a legal issue in you fancyin' her like that?" asks Wilf. He delights in watching his grandson get increasingly flustered. "She must be really good at what she does."
"She is, and she's not my doctor, not that kind of doctor, and…" John throws his hands up. Although, it's not in real frustration—if anyone has understood him it's Wilfred. "I'm still waiting to see her."
"Why can't you just go and find her, John?"
"I've tried!" he crows. He has indeed tried. Somehow, in all the time that has/hasn't passed, he has tried to find the Doctor. You would think someone would notice a beautiful, flame haired woman running around in a long, brown leather coat wherever disaster is. Nope, not one paper, or internet article, or Facebook account noted a woman anywhere near the Thames when it drained. John remembers it, though. He remembers very well being there with the Doctor. "She's…nowhere."
Wilfred looks on his grandson. The boy has gone through his whole life able to be defined by one word: fine. John Smith, the average lad, with average ambitions and an average demeanor. He never wanted to be an adventurer or a spaceman or a detective. John never asked to find special things, he just wanted to find something that made him special. Looking at the smile he smiles now, thinking of the Doctor, maybe she is just that.
"I'll wait, though," John mumbles, now a bit sheepish about it. He wiggles his toes in his trainers, wrist clasped in hand. "Even if I have to wait a hundred—no, a thousand years, I'll wait for her."
"Then you wait." Wilf's voice becomes suddenly soft, after all his guffawing, and it grabs John's attention like he needs. "If you're this determined to wait for a woman then you wait on, Lad. You just wait, and you'll find her, I know it."
John considers his Granddad's words very carefully. This man survived a great war, seeing things no man should have to see. Even yet this man returned with unstained hands. And what did that man with untainted hands do?—he waited. After meeting John's Nan all of once, Wilf waited for years to meet her again. Wilfred Mott waited for one woman. Wilf waited for years to hold the hand of his true love and save him from his own life. Wilf knows a thing or two about waiting. "Thanks, Gramps; I think I will, yeah."
"Well," the old man clears his throat, "that doesn't mean you should do so sitting down on some dusty old hill with your gramps. You want to wait for a woman you might as well be in motion. Go and find something to do with yourself. If you have to wait to find her, it's still waitin'."
Trust the wisdom of your barmy old elders, John snickers. "All right, Gramps, I'm off."
"Where to?" Wilfred asks as John gathers himself off the ground.
"A roof."
—
The Doctor makes her way into the building easy enough. If you want to pass unquestioned just make it look like you know what you're doing! 'That should be my personal motto,' she snarks at herself in her mind. The men who do glance at her she doesn't look in the eyes. All she does is flash the psychic paper - Jane Smith: Health and Safety - and continue.
Adipose's promise is plastered all around as saying "the fat just walks away". That's a creepy slogan, and there's something that doesn't sit right. That a human made up the word Adipose is unlikely, and given the saying it's more likely that there's something alien involved. The Doctor has never befriended an Adiposian, but she has met one or two.
Finally, there is a hallway that seems important enough to be red carpeted. The Doctor comes up to it, placing her hands on the porthole rim before looking, like the good ol' days of spying. The corporate head is lecturing a woman. The poor girl is all tied up. A glance around the room reveals the armed guards at her sides.
"Doctor?" the question is mouthed.
John stares blatantly in shock. His hands grip the railing of the window washer's carrier but his eyes are opposite him. He sees, through his window and then another, the Doctor. She looks the same, if more enthused than the last time he saw her. She's wearing a black blazer that cinches at her tiny waist nicely, leaving splotches of red blouse peeking across her cleavage and over her hourglass hips.
"Oh…my…GOD… "
The Doctor grins widely and mouths: "This. Is. BRILLIANT!"
"What the hell are you doing here?" John mouths in return, though he really should be questioning why he can understand her mouth movements. The Doctor seems very good at miming.
Looking…for you.
Me?
Sonic…time…thingy…read…in a paper…broke in here…crept along…them…talking…boop!…found…YOU! Th—
"Are we interrupting you?" the blond woman - Foster - drawls.
John and the Doctor meet eyes before concurring: "Run!"
The Doctor Sonics the window locked and then the handle of her own door. Before she takes off she slips her heels off, figuring they're only going to be the death of her from here on in. Still she doesn't hesitate to charge up the stairs. She can't believe it! She found John! In fact she has really found him as she, heading up, meets him, heading down. Her arms are immediately around him, which he receives in good humor.
John lets his arms go around the Doctor easily, still a bit stunned. "Oh my God, it—you—you've changed."
"How?" the Doctor asks as they pull apart.
"We—you're," John scratches at the back of his neck, "your clothes!"
"Yes, I do change clothes, now come on!" The Doctor takes John's hand in hers and starts back up the stairs again.
"I can't believe this!" John chatters, more animated than he has been in…well, since he was last with her. "I couldn't believe it when I got a job here! I mean, it's nice, it's in the city, it's away from home, that's for certain. Then, I decide to look up the place on Google Maps and this very building is the roof where the TARDIS landed us a year ago!"
The Doctor stops suddenly. She's a step or two ahead of him but holds his hand firmly. Her face is serious, "it really has been a year, then."
John stops too, now. He has to think about how he's going to answer that. He should say that it has been a year. Hasn't it? That's kind of debatable. "Sometimes I think it's a year. Sometimes I only know to tell myself it's been a year because I remember you like it was yesterday—minutes ago, even."
"Oh, John," the Doctor softens. Her grip on his hand turns from holding-you-to-keep-you-up to holding-you-because-we-both-need-it. The hand moves from his palm/wrist to take his fingers gingerly. "I know what it's like to have time play tricks on you. Somewhere in your mind you know how much time has passed. But it feels like…minutes."
"I knew I'd find you, though," John smiles genuinely. It has been a long time since he smiled so freely around someone who wasn't Gramps. It's the smile of his that he can't really control. It creeps upwards on the right side of his mouth and is pulled thinly to the left. "I never got to answer."
"You remember," the Doctor smiles her sweet, kind of secretive smile. John just opens his mouth when a clatter is heard a few stories below them. She curses in her mind but urges them both onward. "Come on!"
The two find an open level and dash in, only to halt in their tracks. The Doctor still holds John's hand, trying to usher him behind her. He refuses, however, though he doesn't step in front of her either.
"Well then," Miss Foster approaches them, taking her glasses off in the process. Her armed guards stand behind her at either side; "at last."
"Hello," John says and waves before his instincts can tell him otherwise. 'Male instincts, always a bit of a delay, me thinks.'
"Lovely to meet you. I'm the Doctor," she says smoothly.
"And I'm John," he ads for lack of anything else to do.
"Partners in crime," says Miss Foster. The two share a look, seeming to actually like that title very much. "And otherworlders, judging by your Sonic technology."
"Oh, yes!" the Doctor declares, only letting go of John's hand to find her Sonic. As she holds it in one hand her other pulls out another sonic something, this one looking to be just a pen. "Interesting, you have a sonic pen. It's a good design, really: sleek."
"Very," John nods, though his wildly hooked eyebrows betray his calm demeanor, "sleek."
"And engraved, for Matron!…Cofelia, Nursery Fleet," the Doctor looks up. "The wetnurse for the Adiposian first family. Using humans as surrogates…yet this is a level five planet, which makes this a violation of intergalactic law."
The Matron does seem to take this into consideration, if only to laugh at it. "Is that a threat, Doctor?"
"It's a chance to call this off before I have to stop you," she says calmly.
"Yeah, I'd avoid that if I were you," John puts in meekly.
The Doctor folds the comment into memory for later with a sigh. She supposes she can't blame John. He saw the worst of her that first day, and he deserves the same chance to back out as anyone else. Maybe it's a good thing he never answered, she laments.
"Let's see you avoid this," the Matron nods for her cronies to cock their guns.
"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," the Doctor holds her hands out, entirely too aware of how John has already stepped to protect her. They obey and she steps from behind John's form carefully. "Did you know that when two Sonics meet each other it creates an earsplitting frequency?"
"Yes," answers the blond alien.
"Oh," the Doctor quirks the bottom right corner of her lip downward. "Hum, right, well then, what about if you snap a sonic in half?"
The effect is most helpful. As the Matron's sonic pen is snapped in half it releases a small explosion of energy. It's enough to let John and the Doctor make their escape without fear of gun fire. The Doctor hears the words "premature labour" and hurries to find the center of the activities. "John, where is the center of this building layout wise?"
"Um," he thinks, "that would probably be…a storage room in the basement where I used to sit and read!"
"Really, John, on the job?" the Doctor teases.
"Do you know how boring it is to be a temp?" he jabs back lightly.
"Here we go," the Doctor rushes into the cupboard, clearing everything out hastily.
"Ooh, spies in the supply closet, I like it," John grins.
"Centralized inducer," says the Doctor, "this is what she's going to use to turn every human connected to Adipose into blobs of fat."
"Fat?" John squints a bit.
"Adipose: it's an alien, actually. An Adipose is an animated body made up of pure living fat. The Matron plans on using humans as breeding grounds for the next generation. No idea why the Adiposians would risk the crime, though."
"Maybe the nursery isn't done yet," John shrugs in a partial attempt at humor (and mostly him just saying things aloud as they come). He guesses it's not right since the Doctor remains working in silence. This is the opportunity he has been waiting for, though. "So, how long was it to you?"
The Doctor chooses her answer carefully. "Three minutes at best."
"Is it because you're an alien?" John asks plainly.
"Not entirely, no," the Doctor offers a small laugh. John has become quiet and her voice has gone velvety soft to match the ambiance. "I'm a Time Lord; rifts in time usually don't have much on effect on us."
John feels the need to continue. "I think I knew it hadn't been a year, even though I could remember it all—see it all in my head. I remember having to explain to Mum and Granddad that Nerys went on the honeymoon without me. I remember living at home again for months before this job popped up. Countless nights of boring, average life, passing by in, I guess, milliseconds. I've wanted to find you, though, all this time. I remembered you asking me to go with you and then all of a sudden I was eating burnt toast for two meals a day and dealing with a heretofore unknown aversion to spiders."
"I really am sorry, John," the Doctor looks at him with compassion misting through her eyes and into his heart and soul. "I know how you must have felt."
John shoves his hands in his pockets - a habit he feels he must have picked up from her - and takes a (big) risk. "I missed you."
Now, the Doctor stops. She looks away from the alien technology and gives her undivided attention to her Earthboy. She tries not to rejoice, or let it show that she's ecstatic over their shared fondness for each other. "I missed you too."
"Wasn't it only a couple minutes for you?" John raises his left eyebrow a bit higher than the right and smirks, leaving his mouth open.
"Well, yeah," the Doctor turns back to working now, her hair blocking John's view of her face. "All the same, though."
"So, you didn't pick up any other companions while I was living a year's worth of three minutes?" John finds he sounds only a little overly curious at it. "What about that guy whose blazer I found on the TARDIS?"
"His name," the Doctor sounds out slowly, but doesn't stop typing and pulling and fiddling. "His name was Lee. He was my first companion in travelling. Basically, I lost him after an incident on a far off planet. He's there, now, and hopefully living the life I programmed for him."
"What does that mean?"
"Then there was Shaun, briefly. He was a great chap, and I hope he's doing well. He should be a doctor, by now, actually. It's funny, really, at least he thought it was. He's good, now, he's…well, he's gone too."
"So, it's just you," John finishes for her.
"Yeah, just me," she sighs.
"Is it always men you bring along?"
"Oi!—I ain't some outer space tart you big dunce!" The Doctor offers John a light slap on the arm before connecting another two wires.
"I never wanted to insinuate that you were!" John protests, rubbing where she slapped. "I just, y'know, wanted to think I already had an application…going for me!"
"You're not applying to temp school, John," the Doctor rolls her eyes, without adding that he always has a place on the TARDIS if he wants it.
"Yeah, there's no such thing," he clarifies for her.
An alien kind of mechanical sound starts up and the Doctor recoils. "She's started the program!"
"How do we stop it?" John asks, but the gears are already in overdrive in the Doctor's head. She seems to think at a million times the speed of a human. Even her lips seem to ghost a million words per minute. "Doctor, tell me what you need!"
"I need one of those remote capsules to reroute the signal from emergency conversion to advanced gradual transmortification or every client of Adipose is going to be reduced to infantile fat creatures!"
Although this isn't the time to be impressed at her ability to spew even more words than he can in mere seconds, he is. He also pulls the sample he grabbed out of his flannel shirt pocket, smooth as 007 himself. Her eyes look from it to his and light up like the sunrise. She's quick to rewire it with the machine in the wall and things shut down. It's quiet for just a moment before it starts up again, this time, with a nonthreatening blue light to it. Symbols float in a multidimensional script on the monitor.
"Adiposian first family," the Doctor says to herself.
"They figured out you've been messing with their breeding program?" John dares to ask.
"No, they know it's a crime, no one risks the Shadow Proclamation for a baby boom," the Doctor looks at the symbols intently. "They're sending a representative."
"Ooh, am I gonna see an Adipose?" John perks at the idea.
"Yep," the Doctor pops the 'p' and takes his hand, "come on, Johnny-boy!"
—
After the Adiposian representative has come on gone - great fun, meeting and talking with an animated ball of fat - John reflects. In one day he experienced an entire year of life, both with and without the Doctor. It has been varied results for John Smith.
The Doctor has been awfully quiet on the walk back, her hands back in those pockets of hers. Though the blazer is rather becoming she misses the pockets of her usual coat, bigger on the inside as they are. She is gravely silent until she stands before the TARDIS and turns to John. "John, listen…you don't have to."
John frowns and feels hurt coiling in his chest. "You don't want me?"
"I didn't say that," she shakes her head. "What I mean is…you've seen horrible things. After one day with me, you've seen…things I really wish you hadn't. You witnessed the second death of an alien empire."
"They were going to kill everyone on Earth," John protests but when she gestures he lets her continue.
"You saw me," the Doctor feels her throat constrict. She feels embarrassment and shame and fear all deep within the cold ball of ice that encases at least one of her hearts. "You saw me at some of my worst, John, and I don't want you to have to see that again. So, I'm giving you a chance. You've at least seen that: that everyone deserves a choice. So, I'm giving you the choice to back out of this, no hard feelings."
"None of that was your fault, you know," John approaches slowly. Still, the Doctor looks…apologetic. She has the repentant look of a person who has done wrong and wishes to right it without knowing how.
"Shaun," the Doctor begins. It hurts, considering how fresh this wound is. She really did like Shaun, might have even loved him, just not like he wanted. He loved her and she wasn't ready to love him. She wanted to, oh, did she ever want to love him, she just couldn't. "His name is Shaun Temple, and he's with his family now. He chose to leave."
"Why?!" John asks with such bewilderment it's both offensive and flattering.
"He loved me, and every time I rebuffed his affections it hurt him. The one thing I never want for my companions if for them to be hurt. I want them to see the stars, and live their life to the fullest potential. I can't bear it when they're hurt and I was the one who hurt him."
"Doctor, love is a fickle thing, especially with humans." John sighs. He has contemplated love himself. Sure, he wasn't exactly in love with Nerys but maybe a part of him did love her. The very human part of him that wanted to love her more than he really did, just so his cold, aching heart had something to beat for. That is very human. "I assure you, there are risks in any experience in life, and I'm willing to take them. I want to live an extraordinary life, and that life means risking whatever is normal for you. I'm ready for that."
The Doctor smiles. 'John Smith, you don't know how extraordinary you already are. One of a kind, and one of a million, but you are certainly not average.' "Well, shall I ask again, then?"
"Please," he nods.
"Come with me," she says with a tiny element of askance in her voice.
"Allons-y!"