Chapter 3

The door opening had been the last straw for Gene. If this bow-tied brat got out of the office without meeting his filing cabinets he was going to be very lucky indeed. He moved behind the security of his desk to ensure he had the premium glaring space and stared at the Doctor.

"It's fascinating," the Doctor breathed in awe, "you're a whisker away from being a Time Lord, but you have absolutely no special powers whatsoever!"

Turning his glare up a notch, Gene got to his feet. He stepped out from behind his desk for a moment and stood with his legs akimbo.

"I don't think me missus would be saying that," he scowled but the Doctor ignored him.

"The little yellow box on wheels," The Doctor signalled into the car park, "is that your spaceship?"

Gene wasn't sure he could get any angrier.

"The only space around here is the one between your ears," he barked. A pang of sadness struck him in the chest as he realised the Doctor was talking about the Fiat and with a slight sigh he admitted, "No. Not any more. Someone else takes her off home now."

"Oh! The angry one!" the Doctor said brightly, glancing through the glass into CID.

Gene stared at him, completely bewildered. He could only have meant Kim. How the hell did he know that?! Had he been checking their log books before Gene got there?

"The only car of my concern is the one mourning the loss of its natural habitat," Gene spat furiously, "Get yer big blue bog and move it!"

"Ahh, yes," the Doctor looked a little more sheepish, "terribly sorry about the intrusion."

Gene folded his arms.

"No you're not."

The Doctor hesitated.

"Alright, I'm not," he said, "but it's as inconvenient for me as it is for you, believe me."

"I doubt that," Gene narrowed his eyes.

"It is," the Doctor told him, "I was trying to get to the nineteen ninety eight Wimbledon final."

"Well you're a long way off, pal," Gene told him crossly, "you've got two months to wait and you're not spending them in my station."

"Clara's such a fan of Pete Sampras, you see," the Doctor continued, oblivious to Gene's tone, "always wanted to see him playing live. And what a win!"

Gene grabbed the nearest file from his desk so that he had something to scrunch up in fury.

"Thank you for spoiling the entire grand slam in one easy step!" he barked.

"The thing is," the Doctor began, "something threw us off course. Or should I say, pulled us off course."

"You don't say."

"I do. I say, because it's true. Somehow we were… pulled by an irresistible force."

"That'll be me aftershave."

The Doctor stepped towards him until he just about invaded Gene's personal space. He looked at him seriously and for a moment his cheery, oblivious exterior faded.

"I'm not from around here," he told Gene.

"Really?" Gene swallowed, "you do surprise me." He stared the Doctor in the eye. "Funny thing is, nether are most of the coppers in this station."

The Doctor hesitated.

"No?" he watched Gene shake his head. "Then where are they from?"

Gene tightened his jaw.

"Think you should answer yer own question first," he said. The Doctor remained silent. "Only, thing is, some of my team seem to have fallen at your feet."

"It's the bow tie that does it," the Doctor said, blushing a little.

"There's a blinking great Police Box in me parking space. I'm not a bloody idiot."

The Doctor swallowed.

"No," he said, "you're not."

"Only thing is," Gene continued, "what I can't work out is why sensible, down to earth detectives and coppers are talking about daleks in offices." He fixed the Doctor in his stare. "I don't know who you are," he told him, words that Gene hated to say.

"I'm the Doctor." The reply was quiet and said without a trace of pride.

"You're not," Gene said flatly, "two reasons for this. The first is that there's no such thing. The second is that, though there are about four billion McGann brothers, you're not one of them."

The Doctor just stared.

"I am the Doctor," he said again.

Gene stared back. There was an honest innocence in The Doctor's eyes. It was proving very hard for Gene to ignore. Even his common sense and the bizarreness of the situation could not compete with that. He recalled watching all those past incarnations of the Doctor, one by one, as his life in death had progressed. It was a mainstay of British TV and many generations had grown up with it inspiring them, firing their imaginations. Hell, Gene even remembered hiding behind the sofa once. But it was a television programme, and one that had been cancelled some years ago. The TV film hadn't sparked anything new. Whoever this man was, Gene had never seen him before.

"I think you're delusional," Gene told him firmly, "which hospital you from?"

"I'm not that kind of a Doctor."

"I meant as a patient."

"I make a terrible patient. They don't like the hearts."

Gene narrowed his eyes.

"Hearts?"

Gene stared on as the Doctor nodded and Gene found himself biting his lip. Two bloody hearts. He remembered that. A strange feeling washed over him as he thought about people who had passed into his world, the ones who were halfway there, the floaters. The ones who 'knew'. Something that so many of them had in common was the kind of proof that they looked for to see how real the world truly was. Just pressing their hand against somebody's chest to feel their heart beating did more for their perception of reality than any number of words ever could.

Gene stared at the Doctor. They'd been talking for several minutes and yet they'd achieved nothing, absolutely sod-all, except perhaps for allowing Gene to place a rather hefty bet on a certain tennis player. He knew this was a big bunch of bollocks. It had to be. There was no other explanation.

And yet something felt wrong.

Something felt off.

Gene could feel his own heart racing. Heart, singular, he was careful to note.

He closed his eyes as he recalled the day Alex had arrived, the moment she pressed her hand to his chest and felt that heart beating away. The memory made him shudder a little with nostalgia. He opened his eyes again and stared at the man whose eyes were pure and bore no mask. Shit. What the hell was he doing? If anyone saw him… he was never going to live it down. But he had to know. As stupid and ridiculous as he absolutely knew this was, he had to know for certain.

Very slowly he stretched out his hand. He hated himself for it. With every fibre of his being he hated himself for it. This was not an action that came naturally to Gene Hunt. He took a deep breath, fixed a serious stare upon the Doctor and pressed his fingers to the left hand side of the Doctor's chest. He could feel a heart beat thrumming beneath the material of the Doctor's shirt. The knowing look on the Doctor's face made Gene feel nervous. He almost lost his nerve but one way or the other he needed to know.

He took a deep breath.

Then he reached out with his other hand and pressed it squarely over the other side of the Doctor's chest.

He pause momentarily, swallowed and looked the Doctor square in the eye.

"Bugger.".

~xXx~

"What even is going on in there?" Robin tried to strain to see through the glass.

"I think," Marci began, "The Guv is getting gay with the Doctor."

"What?" Robin tried to get a better viewpoint.

"I think he's trying to pull your boyfriend," Marci teased Jake who blushed.

"He is not my boyfriend!" he hissed, "My interest in the Doctor is in a purely platonic sense!" He could feel his cheeks reddening, "I'm just… awed," he said, "Overwhelmed." He took Marci by the arm and pulled her slightly away from the others, looking at her urgently, "Marci, you know what this means, don't you?"

"The Guv's decided if you can't beat 'em, join 'em?"

Jake rolled his eyes in frustration.

"What's always been my lifelong ambition?"

"To be the first member of the Geri Halliwell fanclub to make Detective Inspector?"

"Not that one," Jake hissed "the other one!" he paused and drew in his breath, "To be the Doctor's companion. Travel the world, explore the stars! Make a mockery of time. Nowhere and nothing off-limits,"

"Jake, that's just fantasy land," Marci hissed.

"He's here, he's right here," Jake flapped his arms so strongly that Marci feared he was about to take off. "Marci, look at him. He's large as life, whatever's going on, however this is possible, it's real."

Marci hesitated as she began to realise just how little they had questioned the strange events that were taking place. She knew on the one hand that Doctor Who was about as real as Kim's hair colour. On the other hand, the evidence was right in front of them. Seeing was believing, and right then all she could see was the Doctor attempting to ward off a trip to the filing cabinet with his sonic screwdriver.

"Jake," she began hesitantly, "I'm not sure that I know what's happening, but…"

"But Marci, this is it," Jake grasped her by the arms, looking at her with eyes that sparkled with excitement, "he's really here, and this is my chance. I'm going to be a time traveller, Marci. I'm going to ask him."

"Ask him what?"

"To let me join him on his journey. Let me accompany him as he faces untold delights and terrors. I'm going to be a companion, Marci! I'm going to prove that I've got what it takes!"

Marci stared at Jake. She felt a growing boulder in the pit of her stomach. Swallowing, her downcast expression surprised him.

"You'd really do that, would you?" she asked him. He wasn't sure what she was asking. "You'd really up and leave like that?" she watched him blinking, as though he had no idea what she meant, "Me, Robin, all your friends, your career… we mean that little to you?"

"Marci," Jake's voice was quieter, "no, no, you know that's not true."

"Do I?" Marci swallowed, "only, it sounds that way."

"Marci," Jake said quietly, "you're my oldest friend. You know you mean the world to me. The last thing I'd ever want is to hurt you. But this is the opportunity of a lifetime! And it's not like I'd be running out on you. I could go off in the Tardis tonight, spend a year roaming the galaxy and get dropped off in time for tomorrow's latte run."

Marci swallowed.

"If you come back at all," she whispered. She knew full well there were no guarantees.

"Marci," Jake said quietly, "all my life I've been just another statistic. I never did anything out of the ordinary. I got into the force because I was trying to follow in my father's footsteps to give us common ground. I went for promotion because I was still trying to make him happy. I picked my college courses because we wanted ones where we would be together. I've never done anything for me. I just want that. Just one thing that makes me special."

Marci starred at him, surprised how heavy her heart felt.

"You are special," she told him.

"Something that makes me stand out from the crowd."

Marci swallowed. She could see Jake's heart and mind were set on his impossible goal and nothing was going to change them. The thought of leading her life without her best friend was too painful to bare but she couldn't stand in his way, not of that was what he truly wanted.

"Well," she whispered, "Good luck. Good luck with everything." She hung her head a little, "excuse me."

Jake barely even noticed Marci's sad expression as she slipped away, heading into the corner for a moment of quiet reflection. He didn't want to be without Marci, of course he didn't, but this was his dream. Maybe she could tag along? Maybe they could have a Fenchurch East excursion to the outer reaches of the universe? Anyway, it was all academic if the Doctor didn't want a new companion. He had a long way to go yet. Until then, he just had to focus on his dream.

X

Clara stepped towards Marci, her eyes on Jake.

"The tall blonde fella," Clara began, "is he your boyfriend?"

"What?" the question caught Marci off guard, "Oh, no, no," she laughed a little despite her worries, "Best friend. He's been my best friend for years. But no, he's not my boyfriend."

Clara raised an eyebrow slightly as she tried to subtly check Jake out.

"Really?" she said, giving an approving glance in his direction.

Marci cleared her throat as she realised the focus of her attentions had turned her own to Jake.

"He does have one though," she frowned.

Clara sighed and shrugged.

"Oh," she said, a little disappointed.

Quite suddenly a figure flew in, grasping the door frame to stop herself from running too far and barrelling into her colleagues.

"Sir!" she cried.

Robin looked around to see a frantic Shaz calling him.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"One of the dogs slipped out the unit!" Shaz said breathlessly, "it got into the car park!" She took a deep breath and tried to finish her sentence, "and he's doing something… unspeakable."

Robin swallowed.

"Uh oh."

~xXx~

Gene swallowed hard. Slowly he removed his hands from the Doctor's chest and looked him in the eye.

"You might want to get that looked at," he said grimly.

The Doctor gave him a knowing look.

"I think I'll be alright," he said, "they've not given me any problems yet."

"No," Gene stared at the Doctor and surreptitiously wiped his hands on his trousers. "What are you doing here?"

There were no smart comments, no innuendos, nothing. Just a serious question he needed to know the answer to. Unfortunately the doctor couldn't give him one.

"Wrong turning," he said quietly, "took the wrong exit and found myself in a different universe."

Gene stared out of the office. He could see his team talking frantically amongst themselves.

"You need to leave," he told the Doctor.

"After the warm reception they gave us?" the Doctor seemed a little put out, "I thought we might stay for lunch at least!"

"Don't give them any reason to ask questions," Gene told him grimly.

"Asking questions is a basic necessity!" The Doctor disagreed, "it shows a healthy thirst for knowledge!"

"A knowledge that's gonna lead to a ceiling full of stars," Gene told him.

"Sounds like the best kind," the Doctor told him and found Gene's fist wrapped around his collar.

"Listen, Bowtie Boy," he barked, "me world's a bit more fragile than the one you're used to. Doesn't take much to shake it. So I want you and your big blue penis-extension off my property before you can say Cybermen."

"Ahh, well, I'll have to –" the Doctor began when he froze up visibly as a photograph on the wall caught his eye. "You…"he stuttered and stammered, "who… I…"

Sam Tyler's face stared back from the picture.

"Are you going to finish your sentence or do I have to extract the end of it with a pair of blinking pliers?" Gene demanded.

The Doctor swallowed. He felt his head spinning and his hearts were thumping.

"Your friend," he breathed, "reminds me of somebody."

Gene let go of the Doctor's collar and gave him a firm shove.

"If you've finished gorking at my old DI it's time to shift yer box," he grunted. While the Doctor stared at the photograph on the wall Gene walked slowly to the window, folded his arms and stared out at the car park. "Bloody eyesore sitting in my space!" he scowled, "Got the prime spot, I have. They've been trying to do away with it. Poncify the car park. Stick in a flower bed. Plant a rose."

The Doctor froze.

"Rose?" he repeated.

"Maybe stick in a couple of ponds."

The Doctor let out an agonised cry.

"Ponds?!"

"But my car has always taken pride of place," Gene concluded, "unlike your big blue excuse for a –" he paused, "Dog toilet."

"You are a very rude man!" The Doctor told him but Gene shook his head.

"I told you that thing was a porta-loo," he said.

"What?" the Doctor frowned and stepped a little closer until he could see the Tardis parked in the car park where a dog was happily using it to relieve himself. It glanced up at the window as he cocked his leg. "Oh no!"

Gene stepped back, his grim expression finally breaking way to a smile brimming over with smugness.

"Looks like I'm not the only one mistaking yer intergalactic wheels for a commode," he said.

The Doctor turned to Gene in fear.

"She's not equipped to repel canine urine!" he cried.

"Looks like your transport's gone to the dogs," Gene sniggered but his joke was wasted on the Doctor who was already flying towards the door which just about opened in time to let him through.

"Doctor?" Clara looked up in alarm, "What's the matter?"

The Doctor barely caught his breath.

"Dog," he breathed, "Tardis. Toilet. Piddle everywhere."

Clara's nose wrinkled in disgust.

"I'll get the mop," she said as Robin cried to Shaz,

"So that's what you were talking about?"

As the Doctor clasped Clara by the sleeve and dragged her toward the door he found a tall blonde man grabbing his arm.

"Take me with you!" he cried urgently as the Doctor turned around in surprise.

"And is 'Me' your name, or…?" he asked, frowning a little.

"I'm DS Dawson," Jake said, his legs trembling beneath him, "Jake Dawson."

The doctor eyed him critically. He looked like he belonged in a boyband but wouldn't look completely out of place, despite only having the regulation one nose for a human.

"Alright, Jake Dawson," he said, "come. But bring a sponge."

Jake punched the air.

"Yes," he cried, then he disappeared out of the door with The Doctor and Clara to begin a clean-up operation of epic proportions.