"Doctor?" Cassie called out after catching up to him. "When you say 'steak, do you really mean-"
"A masterfully prepared cut of beef, seared just right to hold in the flavor and covered with a combination of herbs and spices not seen anywhere else in the known universe!" the Doctor proclaimed, moving with an extra spring in his step as he maneuvered through halls and doorways back toward the control room. "Served with a side of baked potato with butter and onions and chives and cream! And, if you like, there's also salad and a bread basket."
"That does sound good, I guess," Cassie admitted. "But is it really worth getting so excited over? I mean, there's got to be thousands of steakhouses to choose from on Earth. What makes this one so special?"
"The man who created it was a genius," the Doctor explained. "An absolute genius, but he never wanted to be famous like he could have been. He founded a small restaurant in an out of the way Chicago borough in the early 22nd century. It's been a family business for four generations now and is the best kept secret in the city."
"I guess I am pretty hungry," Cassie said, wincing slightly as the Doctor's loving descriptions brought a growl to her stomach. "All this jumping around the last few days, it's making it hard to tell when it's time to eat."
"I've been told it's a lot like jet lag," the Doctor replied airily. "It shouldn't take long to get used to." They reentered the control room, and the Doctor headed to the console and pulled back a large brake lever that sent the TARDIS shuddering to a halt.
"Regardless, this should make a good first visit for you," the Doctor continued. "Foreign, but not too foreign, and in your future, but not overly so."
"So is there a certain way I should act or anything?" Cassie asked. If she had any paper and a pencil handy, she would have had it ready to take notes on.
"No different than usual would be fine. We're still on Earth, after all. It'll be like visiting a different country; if you see anything that looks strange, just be respectful of it."
"Are you sure? I mean, I wouldn't want to stand out or anything." Cassie trailed off, clasping her hands in front of her and feeling very self-conscious as the Doctor turned to face her.
"A friend of mine," the Doctor began, stepping toward Cassie and resting a hand on her shoulder. "Once told me that there is nothing more suspicious than someone who doesn't belong trying to blend in. You can't blend into your surroundings, but if you look like you belong there, then your surroundings will blend into you. Relax! If you go out there looking as nervous and ill-at-ease as you are, of course people will think you're up to no good, but if you go out there and be proud, be confident, and smile at the wonder of it all, then all your obstacles will part before you."
The Doctor patted her on the shoulder and took a step back. "Now, let's see your best smile."
Cassie, blushing, took a deep breath and gave the Doctor a toothy grin, hoping it didn't look too cheesy.
The Doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Close, but it needs something a little extra." He looked around conspiratorially before leaning in, as if to share a great secret. "Would it help if I told you I was wearing my favorite pink boxers?" he whispered.
Cassie burst out laughing despite herself as the Doctor stood back with a satisfied grin. "Ah, yes, the pink boxers never fail to amuse." He gestured toward the doorway. "Shall we?"
"You're terrible!" Cassie told him, still laughing.
"Nothing terrible about it," the Doctor assured her. "They're quite comfortable, in fact."
Cassie, wisely, decided not to comment, though the thought of the Doctor being perfectly content wearing pink made her giggle. They stepped outside the TARIDS doors into the middle of a large promenade along what must have been the Chicago shoreline. A chill breeze was blowing in from the lake, but the skies were mostly clear, the setting sun casting red outlines on the few clouds overhead. The promenade was busy, with people walking along the shorewalk or simply lingering on the tiny beach. Looking around, Cassie was surprised to see that the buildings and people were very close to what she remembered from home.
Despite the Doctor's assurances, Cassie had half expected to find things wildly futuristic, with gleaming chrome buildings laced with neon lights and layers of flying cars overhead like in a sci-fi movie. The buildings were certainly impressive, true, but seemed made of glass and metal like most big city structures. The cars she saw were planted firmly on the ground, though only a very few had tires, and those looked like antiques next to the others. Most seemed to glide along the road on some unseen cushion, a pale glow emanating from beneath the chassis. She was struck by the lack of noise: No engines, no screeching tires or brakes; they seemed to whisper as they passed like a soft breeze.
Likewise with the people around her. There was nothing so outlandish as robots or cybernetic implants or steampunk clothing. Many of the styles and fabrics struck her as strange, but not overly so. Everyone wore shirts and jackets, jeans, slacks, skirts, and dresses she would have expected anywhere else. A man walking by dialed at a hand held device with a stylus, which then projected a small holographic menu above his hand, which the man then manipulated with the stylus by stabbing at the air, shifting through screens with practiced ease.
A young couple glanced at the Doctor's forest green coat, black slacks, and old-fashioned waistcoat, but seemed to pay them no more attention than they did Cassie's own black jeans and purple turtleneck. The Doctor had offered her the full use of the TARDIS wardrobe, with ten thousand world's worth of socks alone, but she felt more comfortable with the clothes she brought with her for the time being. He had given her a bedroom just down the hall from the main control room, though she had been in there just long enough to set her duffel bag down and change before setting out to explore the rest of the TARDIS.
The room itself had been huge, almost the size of her entire house, with an enormous four poster bed on a slightly elevated platform in the middle of the floor. A large desk, cabinets, wardrobes, and other furniture lined the walls, with a door against the back wall leading to what the Doctor told her was her very own bathroom, complete with a bathtub set into the stone floor almost deep and wide enough to swim laps in. The bedroom's wooden floors, draped with rich carpets, and the polished stone walls, gave the rooms the feel of a princess' chambers in some faraway tower. The luxury of it made Cassie feel uncomfortable, as if someone would come along at any moment to accuse her of trespass and presumption. Out of curiosity, though, she had dared a quick glance into one of the wardrobes and found a wide selection of clothing, from familiar blouses and sweaters all the way to an embroidered gown made of a material so soft and light she might have wrapped the whole thing around her fingertip or pressed it into her palm like a pingpong ball. The little girl in her wanted to try it on right then and there, but Cassie instead closed the wardrobe and changed into a more familiar outfit from her own bag. The Doctor had already done so much for her, she didn't want to be thought of as taking advantage of his hospitality.
"Not quite what you expected, is it?" the Doctor asked her. Cassie glanced over and saw him looking down at her with knowing eyes.
"It's weird," Cassie said. "There are a lot of things different, but so much is still the same."
"Very true." The Doctor gestured toward an intersection leading into the inner city. He and Cassie headed in that direction. "I've found that human civilization is very predictable that way. A city from a thousand years ago and one found ten thousand years in the future are different only in the technology and culture of those who live there. The very basic spirit and core of the city remains the same."
"What about farms and things like that?" Cassie asked.
"Oh, they're still around, in their own way. Enhanced livestock and computerized hydroponics have taken the place of scythes and sickles, but the same principles are there. The farmers of tomorrow may use genetics and science alongside their threshers, but they still take pride in the things they grow."
The Doctor led her down several blocks before turning into an otherwise unremarkable side street, where the crowds of people moving up and down the sidewalks dwindled to a mere handful. The Doctor weaved unhesitatingly through the back roads and narrow alleys, so far that Cassie began to wonder if he had gotten them lost, before he finally came to a halt.
"Here we are, then," he announced with a satisfied grin.
A few windows, dimly lit from within and barely visible from the lights in the alley itself, were the only thing separating the restaurant from the rest of the wall. They might even have belonged to the back room of some business on the other side of the building, as Cassie could not even see a door leading inside. It took her a moment to see a small staircase leading down from the alley into the building's foundations, draped with a black awning. A simple illuminated sign, reading 'George's, Est. 2107' in gold letters, was mounted on the wall near the staircase's descent. The entire layout seemed specifically designed to be ignored by passersby. On her own, Cassie herself would easily have passed it off as a bar or private club of some kind and moved on without a second glance. The owners must have preferred their restaurant to have an intimate clientèle to have placed it so intentionally out of the way of casual traffic. The best kept secret in Chicago, as the Doctor put it, was starting to sound like a pretty good description.
The Doctor led her down the stairs and through a door. A tiny bell tinkled in the frame as they stepped inside. Booths with sumptuous leather cushions and oak tables lined the walls, with similar-looking chairs and tables spread across the floor, each lit with a small overhead lamp and a series of tiny candles on the tabletops. A large bar with a generous selection of bottles stood against the far wall, with a staircase leading up to the street level floor. It must have been a slow night even for them, as only a few of the tables were occupied at the moment, with one woman drinking alone at the bar. An older gentleman, wearing a sport coat over a lavender shirt, stepped from behind a podium to greet them.
"Good evening, sir and miss," he welcomed them both. "How may I serve you this evening?"
"Hello again, Dominic," the Doctor replied, reaching into his coat pocket and producing the leather billfold containing the psychic paper. "Doctor Smith and a guest, tonight."
Rather than the brief confusion Cassie had seen from others faced with the psychic paper, Dominic simply nodded, as though this were what he'd been expecting. "Of course, Doctor. Your usual table, I presume?"
"That would be agreeable," the Doctor nodded. They were quickly seated at a large booth in the corner as Dominic deftly removed a 'Reserved' placard from the table and handed each of them a menu encased in red leather. The Doctor ordered a glass of the house red, while Cassie, thinking that soda was probably not the most appropriate choice to ask for here, settled on ice water. The Doctor interjected, asking Dominic to bring his guest a white wine spritzer along with her water, ignoring Cassie's scandalized expression. Dominic nodded his understanding and quickly departed to fill their order.
"So after we leave here, where would you like to go next?" the Doctor asked, barely glancing at his menu before setting it aside. Cassie looked up from her own menu.
"I don't know," Cassie replied after a long moment. "I mean, there's got to be so much out there. I wouldn't even know where to start, honestly."
"It's not like I expect you to know proper names and dates," the Doctor told her teasingly. "I want to know what you like. What do you most want to see? Great works of art? We can visit the Dancing Gods: Statues carved from mountains over ten miles high, perfect in every detail. Natural wonders? We can see the endless waterfalls of Valorum, where falls a thousand miles wide cascade down through the center of the planet and rise again on the other side. Wondrous cities? We can tour the Nine Angels, an entire series of worlds joined with crystal rings, locked in orbit around their sun like a perfect halo, each one lit with cities of a different color like jewels in the night sky. All those and infinite others are there, just waiting to be seen. All waiting for you, there for the asking. Where would you like to start?"
It wasn't until the Doctor stopped talking that Cassie felt the smile that had spread across her face. She could almost see them in her mind's eye, these incredible sights the Doctor described. He had seen them before, that was obvious. But he was ready to go back at her word just for the pleasure of showing them to someone else.
"I want to see it all," she whispered.
The Doctor smiled with approval. "'All' might be difficult. I can't even claim to have seen most. But there's nothing stopping us from trying."
Dominic returned with their drinks. At a gesture from the Doctor, Cassie took an experimental sip of her spritzer, sniffing as the carbonated bubbles leaped from the glass to tickle her nose. It was bitter as she imagined it would be, but it left a sweet aftertaste in her mouth, like a honeycomb brushed with lemonade. The Doctor sipped at his wine and ordered the biggest prime rib available, made with the house recipe and with every side dish they could muster. After a moment's consideration, Cassie ordered the same, though in more modest portions.
Having ordered, the Doctor seemed downright gleeful, restless in his seat like a child eagerly awaiting an ice cream cone.
"It must've been a long time since you came here," Cassie observed.
"A few years," the Doctor replied. "It's only very occasionally that I actually sit down at a proper restaurant. Most of the time I stop by whatever happens to be around, or prepare something in the TARDIS kitchens."
"The TARDIS has a kitchen?" Cassie asked.
"Oh, yes," the Doctor said, taking another sip of his wine. "Quite an elaborate one, actually. But with my cooking skills, you might say it goes to waste. Besides which, it's much more interesting to experience the local cuisine instead of staying holed up on board eating sandwiches and the like."
Just then, Dominic returned, setting a basket of bread rolls on the table along with something else.
"Compliments of the woman at the bar," he said, setting a large glass in front of the Doctor, filled with a thick chocolate beverage, capped with whipped cream and a long, curving straw.
Cassie leaned in for a closer look. "A milkshake?" she asked, looking up at the Doctor, who was staring at the drink in some confusion. He turned toward the bar. Cassie followed his gaze to see the same woman who had been sitting there when they entered. She was petite, perhaps only a few inches taller than Cassie herself, though she looked to be in her early thirties, smartly dressed in a periwinkle blue pantsuit, with long, strawberry blond hair. As she watched, the woman turned in her stool and, smiling warmly, raised a glass to them in salute. Next to Cassie, the Doctor picked up the milkshake and raised it in turn before bringing the straw to his lips.
"Do you know her, Doctor?" Cassie asked, not sure if she believed it herself. It was more likely she was simply trying to pick up a handsome man in a quiet restaurant, but that explanation didn't quite ring true, either. Buying someone a milkshake out of the blue just wasn't something you did for a total stranger.
"Oh, yes," the Doctor answered. The woman rose from her seat and began walking toward their table. "She's a very old friend of mine."
The Doctor stood as the woman neared. He seemed almost reserved as he took the woman's hands in his before the woman, laughing with delight, leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the Doctor's neck. The Doctor, a smile crossing his face for the first time, nearly lifted her from the ground as he returned her embrace before finally setting her back down.
"It's been a long time, Doctor," the woman said teasingly.
"Much too long," he replied quietly, huskily, his voice filled with emotions Cassie couldn't begin to guess at. He gestured toward the table, and the woman slid onto the cushioned bench, sliding halfway towards Cassie to make room for the Doctor.
"Cassandra Jacobs," he began. "I'd like you to meet the lady Romanadvoratrelundar, Lady President of Gallifrey, Keeper of the Regalia of Rassilon, and such and so forth."
"Doctor, is this really how you introduce me to your friends?" She poked him in the side before turning to face Cassie. "Don't pay him any attention, dear. He thinks just because he turned down the job that everyone who accepts it must be dreary and corrupt, despite him knowing very well that I am neither. And please, call me Romana," she said, holding out her hand.
"Cassie," Cassie replied, taking the hand with her own.
How long had it been since he had taken on a new companion?
It wasn't a question the Doctor usually asked himself. It seemed at times that he gathered such people to him like trading cards, collecting, shuffling, and trading them away almost at random. Not that he didn't still see each new face as an opportunity nor regret the loss of those that departed, but he had grown used to traveling with an entourage. Sometimes one person, sometimes several. There was the time he took on a pair of twins, beautiful Brazilian gymnasts that turned heads wherever they went, whom he rescued from an unnatural explosion during a disastrous performance. Lovely and intelligent, they made for fast friends, though they scarcely realized the trouble they caused as they attracted men by the handful wherever they went! Every tour seemed to inevitably conclude with him making some hasty distraction so he could hustle the girls on board the TARDIS and depart with a minimum of awkward questions. The usual dangers he faced were almost preferable to dealing with some random drunkard who wouldn't take no for an answer.
But somewhere along the line, the entourage dwindled. Many had turned into one, and even that one had left him. Lucie was the last. A distant relative of hers, beloved since childhood, had turned out to be an alien refugee in disguise. The relative had died a peaceful death many years ago, while the alien slipped seamlessly into her life, friends and family suspecting nothing for decades until the Doctor stumbled upon her secret. For her sake, and for Lucie's, he had kept the charade intact. All was well until, as all deceptions are, the lie was discovered. Feeling hurt and betrayed, Lucie elected to stay behind on Earth rather that continue traveling with a man who had lied to her when she, jaded and suspicious as she had been, had trusted him completely. They parted amicably enough, Lucie promising to remember him for the good memories and adventures they shared rather than the one indiscretion.
But then the Doctor had surprised himself with how he reacted. Always before, he had parted with his friends with a fond farewell. Or wise words and advice. Or even heartfelt pleas to remain at his side, if only for a little while longer. But for the first time, he had simply walked away. Lucie had told him she intended to stay on Earth and given him her goodbyes, only for him to turn and leave without another word. Without even looking back. Until then, he hadn't thought himself capable of such callousness.
Was it callousness? Or hurt feelings, perhaps? Even now, he wasn't certain, and he had had years, decades, to think about it. He had apologized at the time, and that had seemed enough. It would certainly do no good to go back now and stir up lingering regrets. He had left her behind confidently, even brazenly. There was a whole universe of beings out there willing to share in his journeys. No reason to remain attached to any single one when he or she could be replaced. They always grew so familiar with him, so presumptive. So certain that they alone truly understood him.
It hadn't turned out that way, though. Having been surrounded by friends and fellows for so long, he had been certain that another promising soul would turn up in due course, able to appreciate the maelstrom of wonders he could offer. But one never did. He traveled all the same, but never saw anyone with the proper qualities. They were always not quite clever enough. Not curious enough. Or lethargic. Or jaded. Vulgar. Violent. Never quite suitable.
He stayed busy, telling himself that he could be more productive without someone chattering on like a Scarsil bird mimicking its masters for a snack of lug beetles. He tinkered with the TARDIS, redecorating some areas, rearranging others. The Valereans, eternally thankful for him clearing their islands of remnants of the Church of the Tin Vagabond, had offered the Doctor the services of their master woodshapers. Coaxing wood with words and songs, the woodshapers had swept through the TARDIS, replacing every board held with nails and screws with shaped wood, every piece grown from seedling to masterpiece almost overnight.
For a time he had tired of the many buttons and layers of his outfit and tried something more simple: A dark blue, double-breasted leather blazer that had caught his attention in a storefront window, along with a beaten canvas satchel he had found rummaging through one of the TARDIS storerooms. These he combined with slacks and a simple button-down shirt, and was quite pleased with the result. He even cut his hair short (well, had it cut for him by a rather overzealous Mongol swordsman), and that became his new appearance for several years. One day, he caught himself thinking what Fitz would say if he saw him in that getup. Likely, he'd have laughed and embraced him as a long-lost brother. Sam would have approved, surely, though she never wore anything besides jeans and t-shirts, herself, if she could help it. Soon after, he got bored with the outfit and changed back to his more familiar ensemble.
Eventually, he paid a visit to the Natural History Museum to see if anything new or old had turned up. He was shocked to find a clutch of Tenkrul eggs in an exhibit on ancient Egypt, having been mistaken for beetle shells from some long extinct species. While they were dormant, and could remain so for hundreds of years, it could only be a short time before the parasites within hatched and begun to spread and multiply. Some clever sleight of hand and jiggery pokery let him switch out the eggs on display with the very beetle carapaces the scientists had taken them for, but there was always a possibility that others from the same source could have been taken for a private collection elsewhere. It had taken some work, but he tracked down the original discoverer of the eggs: a young archeology grad student who had just returned home to visit his family, no doubt with some harmless souvenirs.
Tenkrul parasites, because of their means of reproduction, tended to infest humanoids of a certain physical maturity; in the case of humans, teenagers, whose hormones and not-fully-developed thought processes made them ideal targets for infestation. He had decided to sweep through the local high school, attended by the student's younger brother, to perform damage control if necessary before trying to seek out the horde itself.
It was there, posing as a high school physics teacher and loving every second, that he first met Cassie.
Her friend, Kendra, was in his class during final period. Far more clever than she gave herself credit for, she actually managed to follow along for a while with a lesson meant to overwhelm his students while stoking their curiosity. Perhaps someday a few such students would remember his lesson and decide to pursue science as a career. After the class was over, Kendra was met by Cassie while the Doctor gathered his things; he talked to them both while walking to the main entrance. They were pleasant enough, intelligent and polite, a factor that's often lacking in girls their age. But after stepping outside, a stray breeze brushed across Cassie and toward the Doctor, who recognized the subtle fragrance instantly: the spicy, cloying scent of Tenkrul pheromones. Cassie had gotten a full dose and yet, astonishingly, was still in control of herself. Many other girls would have thrown themselves at the Tenkrul's host within minutes, regardless of circumstance or propriety, but aside from slightly flushed skin and unusual perspiration in the chill autumn air, she seemed fine. Resisting those chemically induced urges, along with the telepathic suggestions that came with them, was a remarkable act of will that the Doctor wouldn't have thought most humans capable of.
There was very little he could have done for her there. A pheromone counter-solution was incredibly complex, and though he had begun making it just in case, it would be several hours before it was complete. And this was on top of completing his survey of the school to ensure no others were affected. Signs were promising, though. With only one girl affected so far, chances were that the Tenkrul presence was limited. So he did what he could, leaving a trigger suggestion in her subconscious; it was too much to ask for a simple human to fully resist a Tenkrul's compulsion for long, but with luck and his help, she would be aware enough to resist until he could arrive with the antidote. Another device, a weapon calibrated to burn away infesting lifeforms, he brought along just in case.
It had gone as well as he could have hoped. Completing the solution, he had tracked Cassie to her house, and from there to the house of the grad student who had brought the eggs home with him. Near as the Doctor could tell, only he and his younger brother had been infested; another half dozen eggs were still in dormancy and were put into stasis before reviving. The grad student was safely subdued without attracting undue notice and the Tenkrul within extracted. Cassie was already gone, along with the student's brother, but another girl was there. Almost completely undressed, confused, and terrified, she knew that something had been done to her but had no idea what. But he knew all too well. He had draped his jacket across her shoulders and let her cry against him for as long as he dared before entering her mind. Erasing memories was generally much easier when they were recent, and so the process went smoothly. He implanted soothing currents of thought as he withdrew to ease the trauma, then injected a dose of the antidote; this close following the act, the antidote would serve to prevent the Tenkrul larva from taking hold inside her body. Quickly dressing her, he left her in the bedroom with the door open so that she'd be found by others in the house. When she came to, she would remember little other than that she'd fallen asleep in someone else's bed; embarrassing, but harmless. It was likely she'd recall flashes of what had happened in bad dreams or stray thoughts, but the Doctor hadn't the time to remove those lingering traces. As always, he'd done the best he could in the time he had, and now he had others to worry about.
The Doctor, still tracking the pheromone trail, tracked Cassie to her friend Kendra's home. A fairly well-to-do family, they had a sophisticated security system, undoubtedly something top of the line that the sonic screwdriver nonetheless disposed of easily. He tracked her to the bedroom, only to find the bed made and the room empty. Impossible! The trail terminated here. Unless...of course. They had heard him coming and decided to hide. Understandable, he supposed. Though making the bed was a stroke of genius, very quick thinking indeed.
He explained what was going on, filling in the blank spaces in the madness that had taken place over the last day. They both took the revelations in their stride, asking questions, wanting more information and wanting to help, clever and curious the both of them. Remarkable.
The standoff at Cassie's home was a closer affair than he's have liked. The parasite in the boy's body was already fully developed and had begun breaking down the host. Despite his best efforts, it only had thoughts for breeding and propagating its species and couldn't reason with him rationally. In the end, the Doctor had no choice but to destroy it.
Together, they saw Cassie's father to the hospital. Though she and Kendra showed up at the home despite his warnings, he couldn't fault them for worrying. He looked at them both, those clever and curious girls, his mind already wondering at the possibilities. No. He wouldn't let trauma and horror enter their lives and let that be what they remembered him for. They deserved better. He offered them what he'd offered so many others: a small glimpse of what lay beyond. And to his delight, they both accepted.
Cassie found the TARDIS behind the perception filter, yet another point in her favor. And from there followed a long afternoon on the Amethyst Sands, truly one of the most beautiful places in the universe. The Doctor even painted the scene, a hobby he hadn't indulged in close to a century.
When the time came, he told them that this was only the tiniest taste of what he could offer, and if they wished, he could take them with him to see so much more. Kendra demurred, not wanting to leave everything she knew behind; the Doctor understood. Making that choice was nothing to be ashamed of. Cassie, though, accepted. For so long, her home had been a chore, a heavy weight she labored under to keep some sense of normalcy in her life. And while she and her father had begun to make amends, home wasn't where she wanted to be right now. The Doctor understood that as well. Someday, when she was ready, she would come back, but for now, she simply wanted to be elsewhere.
And so, after so very long, he had a companion again.
He had been surprised by how easily he fell back into the role of wise and patient teacher. he had been afraid that he would come across as awkward, or even too forward. It had taken only a few minutes at the architectural configuration controls to bring up a suitable guest bedroom for Cassie and stock it with clothes, furniture, and whatever else she might need. In retrospect, he might have been too eager; though she hadn't complained, the Doctor could tell that she was somewhat uncomfortable with the luxury of her new quarters. Understandable, of course, given her upbringing. It would take some time to get used to.
After getting settled in, he decided to bring her to George's. Small, out of the way places fascinated him, and George's had been further out of the way than most the first time he'd visited. The recipes the man used were like nothing he's ever tasted before. Steaks, potatoes, vegetables, salads, and even the desserts were all colored by his touch. If he'd wanted, George could have been a world famous chef, with television shows, money, and all the other perks of fame. But his ambitions had never led him further than the intimate restaurant he owned and operated. Even upon reaching his twilight years, he could still be found in the kitchens, teaching his children and grandchildren the secrets and techniques he'd learned in his life; a contribution to the world, thought the Doctor, greater than that of many kings and rulers. When the man himself had passed on, the Doctor made a few discrete arrangements with the family's attorney. The restaurant itself flourished in its tiny corner of the city, but in case business ever faltered, the family would find a large, anonymous trust fund dedicated to keeping the restaurant in business and provide generously for its employees, as long as it continued to maintain it's patriarch's culinary traditions.
Though years tended to pass for the Doctor between visits, the benefits of being a time traveler made him a weekly visitor and a familiar face to the restaurant staff: An eccentric gentleman who paraded a never ending carousel of friends and young dates through their doors. His occupation was a subject of rumors and conjecture among the restaurant staff. He introduced himself as 'Doctor', so a private tutor or professor, maybe? Or someone who worked with troubled and/or gifted youths? That would certainly explain the company he kept. The Doctor had never volunteered the information and Dominic, the restaurant's longstanding host, was too polite to ask. This week he's brought with him a young girl in her mid teens, partially descended from the Japanese Imperium, judging from her eyes and build. It was the first time in a long while that Dominic had seen the man smiling, though, noticing his usual energetic self compared to the quiet, almost taciturn, persona he had during his last several visits, when he'd come alone.
As he told Cassie, he liked to bring his friends to George's because it made for a good starting point for their travels. The people were still human, the planet still Earth, but it helped to get them used to the idea of the enormity of time and space, and the restaurant, designed in a style that could have been as popular four hundred years ago as it was today, gave them something familiar.
What wasn't familiar was the appearance of another Time Lord, especially one like Romana. Goodness, he must have been distracted if he hadn't seen her first thing walking in the door! She was dressed in proper Earth clothing. And she had come to him when, as Lord President, she certainly had the means to drag the TARDIS back to Gallifrey if she'd wanted to talk to him in person. That meant something.
"So how are things back home?" the Doctor asked.
Romana flashed him a knowing grin, showing him that she knew that he knew full well the answer. "Much the same as ever. The rebuilding has been complete for some time. I daresay we've even improved on some of what was lost."
"I'm glad to hear it. Council politics are the same as ever, I suppose?"
"Yes," Romana confessed. It was one of the trying points of her reign as President. "Every time something happens, every time the cleanup is done, they make it a point to put things back the way they were before, not even taking any steps to keep it from happening again."
"I see," the Doctor replied. He had the good sense not to look smug in the face of being proven right.
"And what about you?" Romana asked, quick to change the subject before the I-told-you-so. "Traveling with a new companion, I see?"
"Yes." The Doctor's face brightened. "Cassie's only been with me for a couple days. She ran afoul of a bonded Tenkrul host on Earth while I was clearing out a forgotten hatchery."
"Tenkrul? On Earth?" Romana turned toward Cassie, suspecting the worst. "Oh, I'm so sorry."
"It's all right," Cassie assured her. "The Doctor helped me. Before anything, umm, too bad happened."
Romana let out a sigh of relief, putting a hand on Cassie's arm. "I'm glad to hear it. I know how close the Doctor likes to cut these things sometimes. I just wish he'd do it when it was only his own head on the line and not someone else's," she said, looking at the Doctor reproachfully. "How did Tenkrul eggs end up on Earth, anyway?"
"It was an old brood that had been on Earth for centuries," the Doctor explained, pointedly ignoring Romana's accusing look. "They'd been buried in the Egyptians sands. Apparently the heat and lack of moisture had kept them in stasis far longer than normal until some explorers found them and brought them back to normal climes."
"I'm very glad to hear it," said Romana. Long moments of silence followed, polite threatening to cross into awkward. "Why don't you ask me what you really want to ask, Doctor?"
The Doctor was still for a moment before replying. "How are they?" he asked in a quiet voice.
"Wonderful," Romana told him. "The Academy has already been sending inquiries."
The Doctor's face broke into a wide smile. "Really? This early?"
Romana nodded. "It would be quite the achievement."
Dominic returned to the table pushing a large cart laden with dishes. Seeing that Romana had joined them, he set a chicken salad in front of her. Romana took a small bite, eying the Doctor's enormous steak with mild disapproval as he rubbed his hands together in glee. After setting a bowl of bread rolls on the table and seeing to everyone's glasses, Dominic excused himself.
The meal lasted for some time. Romana asked Cassie to tell her about herself. Cassie, embarrassed, said that she doubted it would be at all interesting. Romana insisted, and Cassie slowly found herself telling her about her life back home, her school, and her close friends. Far from thinking her stories dull and mundane, Romana and the Doctor both seemed to hang on every word, taking turns asking her about her dreams for the future (working toward something in medicine, but not 100% sure just yet), her love life (none yet, the 'yet' sending the Time Lords into a round of good-natured teasing), and her family (a father and brother, and a mother who died several years ago). In return, Romana told her a few stories about how she first met the Doctor: Having been literally forced upon each other by a cosmic being, they were forced to seek out the pieces of a powerful artifact and reassemble it, all the while barely able to tolerate each other's company. Though they gradually warmed up to one another, it wasn't until Romana's second life that they truly bonded as friends, traveling together for over a century before she left him to lead a tribe of time-sensitive aliens out of a temporal dead zone in a parallel universe. After several years, her task complete, she managed to return to Gallifrey, the Time Lord's home world, where her exploits and experience caught the eye of the High Council, leading her to become the youngest Lord President in history ("Not that I'm bragging or anything", she insisted, glaring at the Doctor to head off any objection).
The meal was delicious, just as the Doctor said it would be. Cassie didn't see how the steak could be the best in the universe, but it was certainly the best she'd ever had. She must have been hungrier than she thought, as she was amazed that she'd been able to finish the whole thing. Not as amazed, though, as she was at the Doctor, who had devoured the massive steak, all of the sides, a handful of bread rolls, three or four glasses of wine, and was now sopping up the juice from his plate with another roll while glancing at the dessert menu. Romana had finished her meal long before the others, nibbling at a bread roll as Dominic arrived to take the dishes away. After asking Cassie what she would like for dessert and receiving a groan in reply, the Doctor politely set aside the menu as Romana asked only for a small sorbet.
"I have to confess, Doctor," Romana said as she twirled the frozen treat with a spoon. "That I didn't come here just for a social visit."
"Somehow I didn't think so," he replied, sipping at his wine glass.
"There's...been a problem. One that the Council thinks you're best equipped to solve."
"Really. I should like to hear them say that aloud."
Romana gave him an annoyed look before continuing. "I'm not sure if you know this, but several of the recent Academy graduates over the past few centuries have taken to looking at you as something of a role model. They've taken their TARDISs on unauthorized jaunts, interacted with local civilizations in ways not normally allowed."
"You don't mean trying to alter history?" the Doctor asked. "TARDISs correct for paradox, the newer models more than most, and especially for recent graduates. Any influence they try to have should be self-correcting."
"True, there haven't been any major incidents, but not for lack of trying. We've managed to corral most of the renegades before any harm was done. One even modified his TARDIS's reality quotient and tried to save a planetary civilization from a supernova."
The Doctor grimaced. The reality quotient was a measurement of how much a TARDIS's inhabitants could affect the timeline. Normally set low in order to prevent unforeseen changes spanning beyond primary actions, it could nonetheless be modified upwards with enough effort and know-how, letting the user radically alter history in a cascading wave of cause and effect. Trying to save an entire species would have been a gross alteration of the timeline, forbidden by rules even the Doctor rarely crossed. On top of that, a supernova, like most celestial events, was a fixed point, destined to happen and unalterable; the consequences for violating the events stemming from a fixed point could be dire.
"What happened to him?" the Doctor asked.
"Stripped of his TARDIS until the High Council believes he can be trusted with it, remedial courses in temporal ethics for at least a century, and forced regeneration," Romana recited without hesitation.
The Doctor raised an eyebrow. Harsh penalties, indeed. "Sounds familiar," he replied.
A thought struck him. "Now, you said you found 'most' of the graduates."
Romana nodded. "Yes, and that brings up the main problem. One Time Lord, Damon, took his TARDIS out exploring. We sent out others to retrieve him but they didn't find any trace of him or his TARDIS. His trail came to a dead end."
The Doctor thought for a moment. "As much as I'd hate to say it, but have you considered that he and the TARDIS might have been destroyed? It's not impossible that he might have rematerialized in the path of a quantum ribbon or something else." Even as he said it, though, the Doctor didn't quite believe it himself. TARDISs ignored petty things like gravity and most laws of physics; materializing in the wake of a supernova or black hole would barely have done more than scuff the finish.
"We know that he's still alive, along with the TARDIS," Romana continued. "Their presence is still confirmed in the Spiral Politic."
That set the Doctor back on his heels. The Spiral Politic was nothing less than the measurement of everything in existence as it related to everything else, the orderly metronome of reality. Part device, metaphysical construct, means of perception, and magic, all in ways that could never be understood by, or properly explained to, non-Time Lords. Those versed in its use could find any individual person, event, or location, and derive its effects upon anything else in the universe, and the effects those 'anything elses' had upon everything else, and vice versa, finding the cause of a given event or fact. Nonetheless, viewing it was a strenuous exercise, even for experienced Time Lords. It required tremendous concentration to filter through the infinite possibilities it generated to find useful information. If Romana found it necessary to consult the Spiral Politic as to Damon's remaining effect on the timeline, she must have considered the situation quite serious.
"So you want me to track this Damon down for you?" the Doctor hazarded.
"That's right," Romana nodded, reaching inside her jacket and pulling out a parchment scroll tied with ribbon. "We have his last known coordinates here, but the investigation teams we sent didn't find anything from there. But if anyone can make sense of this and find him, I know it's you."
The Doctor took the scroll and stood to his feet, leaving the proper payment on the table. "You seem so certain that I'll do as you ask," he remarked as the three of them exited the restaurant. Night had long since fallen, and they began making their way back toward the boardwalk and the Doctor's own craft.
"I am," Romana said. "Because I know you. And I know that you could never resist a mystery. Well, you have one here that's stumped the best minds on Gallifrey."
"The best minds on Gallifrey haven't had an original thought since the Third War in Heaven," the Doctor observed.
"You know better than that," Romana told him as they emerged onto the boardwalk. The landing was empty save for a few lingering stragglers braving the cold wind sweeping in from the lake. They stopped in front of the TARDIS, the Doctor unlocking the door and holding it open for Romana, who peeked inside. "I don't think I'll ever understand how you managed to change the architectural settings that much beyond the standard," she said, taking in the massive shelves of books and old-fashioned decorations.
"You should ask the best minds on Gallifrey," he suggested. "They might be able to give you answer someday."
"I suppose I should get going," Romana said. "I have my own less impressively outfitted TARDIS waiting to take me back."
"You needn't worry," the Doctor assured her, holding up the scroll. "If there's any way to track down this rogue Time Lord of yours, I promise I'll find it."
"Thank you, Doctor." They embraced warmly for a long while before she stretched up and kissed him softly. "You really should visit more often, you know."
"Perhaps you're right," he said, finally releasing her as she stepped away. "It would be nice to see them again."
"They do ask about you, but they understand that you have your own role to play. I'll send them your love." She turned toward Cassie, hugging her close. "I'm very glad to have met you, Cassie. Take care of the Doctor for me, will you?"
"I will. It was nice meeting you, too," she told her.
Romana stepped back, a sad smile on her face. "I'm sorry that such a pleasant evening had to come about because of business, but sometimes that's how it is. And don't worry about not understanding much of what we talk about sometimes. You'll get used to it, and if there's one thing I've learned from the Doctor, it's that knowledge and facts rarely matter as much as you think."
"I'll remember that," Cassie promised her. Aside from telling her about her family and high school life, Cassie had stayed quiet while the Doctor and Romana talked about things far over her head. Several times she had wanted to interrupt with a question, but didn't want to seem rude. It felt a lot like being a little girl again, with parents and teachers talking about things she didn't understand as though she weren't even there. At least Romana understood and empathized with what that felt like. From the stories she'd told about her time with the Doctor, it's likely she'd felt the same way herself once.
With that, Romana turned and headed up the boardwalk at a leisurely stroll. She was certainly in no hurry to get back, the Doctor noticed. Maybe there were still things here she wanted to visit while she could. With her responsibilities, chances to get away for awhile, even on official business, were beyond rare.
The Doctor ushered Cassie on board, then unfurled the scroll Romana had given him, revealing a series of lines and diagrams, laced with notations written in Old High Gallifreyian. Each hieroglyphic character, placed just so in relation to the others around it, was the equivalent of paragraphs of text in another language. Among many other things, it was the only written form that could convey temporal coordinates without being vague, inaccurate, or misunderstood, and as the Doctor read further, the image of a point in time and space began to grow in his mind.
"This Damon must have good taste," he said, rolling up the scroll and heading for the control console.
"Why do you say that?" Cassie asked. The Doctor had let her look over his elbow at the scroll, but even with the TARDIS translation circuits at work in her mind (the Doctor would have to explain how that worked), all she could see were scribbled formations and strange characters. Old High Gallifreyian, by its very nature, could not be translated into any other form without losing a vast majority of its meaning. A handful of characters, meant to give greetings to one whom you have loved through lifetimes, each syllable conveying the social status and age of both the speaker and the one being spoken to, the implication that neither's status matters, and the conclusion that this love would last through the end of this universe and the birth of the next. Each line of the character having a proper and precise meaning, derived from itself, the character it is part of, the characters surrounding it, and even the force with which it was written, all had great significance. This message, unable to be perfectly translated without months of work from a lesser society's greatest scholars, could mistakenly be considered the equivalent to something as mundane as "Hello, sweetie!", losing all but the tiniest sliver of meaning in the process.
"Because," the Doctor replied, dialing at the controls. "Our new friend decided to visit one of the most scientifically advanced civilizations in history. Our next stop is the Era of the Star's Wisdom!" he concluded, throwing back a lever and sending the TARDIS into motion.