Chapter 2: The King and the Queen

For what seem like the thousandth time this morning, Melanie Bush put down her hairbrush and sighed.

She'd been working at the same few knots for the best part of an hour now, and a good half of the ginger frizz atop her dome was still a jumbled mess. Normally, she couldn't care less about her appearance; as long as it got the job done, she was fine with it. But she also had a habit of wanting to finish something once she started it, and thus, a job that could easily have been sorted with a bun and a hat, had instead taken most of her morning away.

Then again, it could very easily be afternoon, evening or midnight at this moment; you never could tell with the TARDIS. It generally tried to accommodate its anthropomorphic inhabitants for time – dimming the lights and raising them again to create a facsimile of day of night. Only it had a habit of forgetting to do so every now and then, which once involved Mel falling asleep at lunch, had a few hours of sleep and waking up again at breakfast.

That was the price that came with time travel; jet lag. That, and the absolute nightmare that was postcards.

After a few more minutes of slowly dragging her hair out of her skull, she managed to pacify the strands, and finished the look with a bow of dotted ribbon. Finally ready, she exited her bedroom and wandered down the TARDIS corridors.

Another design fault of the TARDIS was the sheer monotony of the corridors; despite the occasional marking stencilled onto the wall, they all looked the same, from the grey panelling of the floors to the roundel-dotted walls and slight curve of the roof. Unless you knew your way or, like Mel, possessed an eidetic memory, you'd be hard pressed to get in and out in a hurry.

Mel managed to make her way to the console room, carefully opening the door a crack and peering through. The Doctor was in one of his moods again, where he was determined to link a butterfly flapping its wings in Australia to a time disturbance in Scotland, or someone clicking their fingers in Shanghai to someone blinking on Lakertya. The whole universe was a great mess of mysteries, loose ends and enigmas, all knotted together in a single, complex scheme.

Not unlike Mel's hair, she noted to herself.

Silently, Mel opened the door, poking her head through the gap. The Doctor was facing the console, hard at work. As she opened her mouth to speak:

'Hello, Mel…' the Doctor muttered, without turning around. Mel was caught off-guard for a second, but soon realised – it's the Doctor. He probably learned telepathy whilst making a cup of tea. 'I like your dress,' he added, still with his back to her. 'But I'm not sure the bow suits you.'

By this point, Mel was quite frankly confounded.

'Doctor, how did-' she started to ask. The Doctor cut her off with his answer – non-verbal, naturally, but by raising his right hand and pointing. Mel followed the arm, hand, finger upwards…and reached a glass pane housed in a large metal box, hanging off of the ceiling. She looked into it, and saw the reflection of the Doctor grinning at her.

'Oh, I see!' she laughed. 'Very clever…what is it?'

'Ah!' the Doctor said, turning around to face Mel. 'A tri-dimensional audital matrix,' he said, rolling his tongue over the 'r'. 'Lets you glimpse back at days gone by…rather like a photograph in that respect.'

'So it's like a television?' Mel asked, walking towards the object.

'In a way, yes. Only instead of an aerial, it gets its signal from the time vortex.' the Doctor replied. 'Here, see!'

He walked over to the console and tapped away at the keys for a second. 'Now, suppose you wanted to see…your seventh birthday.' he said, returning his attention to the monitor once more. 'You'd just input the request…and voila!'

Mel watched as the screen morphed from its general black square to a blurry combination of blue and green. It started to clear, as the blue formed a sky and the green grass. She could even make out a child, in a pristine white dress and orange hair on top…

'It's me!' Mel cried, a smile on her face. The screen was now moving, like an old home movie. Everything was happened as she remembered; the trip to the countryside, her auntie tripping and falling into the cowpat, everything.

'You see, it can be quite an inventive tool…' mused the Doctor.

'Not to mention voyeuristic.'

'Not at all, Mel. It only works in someone's personal memories when they are nearby. Otherwise, it'll just go to static.'

As if on cue, the rural scene on the monitor faded into a sea of frantic black, white and grey.

'Just like that, Doctor?'

'Yes, Mel…something's wrong.'

'What?'

'The TARDIS!' the Doctor shouted, as the whole room started to lurch to one side. Mel moved with the room, but, to her thankfulness, the console was just in front of her. She managed to rest her hands on the cool metal surface, propping herself up with the console.

The TARDIS lurched again, this time to the other side. Mel went flying across the room, slamming into the wall behind her and slumped to the floor. Gently, she groaned to herself, rubbing the spot on her back where she hit the wall. She'll have a bruise, for certain…

A pillar of smoke poured out of a vent in the console, almost blowing the Doctor's Panama hat off. However, he clutched onto it with one hand, whilst working away furiously at the console with the other.

'It's something…' he muttered. 'Something she doesn't like!'

He whacked the console with the side of his fist, and the ruckus died down. In fact, everything died down. The TARDIS stopped jittering, the lights started to dim and the hum of the console faded into nothingness.

'What's happened?' Mel asked, dragging herself off of the floor. 'Have we arrived?'

'I think so, yes…' the Doctor murmured, inspecting the console. 'Something the TARDIS disagreed with…or it disagreed with the TARDIS. She didn't want to come here…'

'Is it alright?'

'Yes, I should think so. Just…sulking.'

'So, whatever it was that the TARDIS didn't like…' Mel started. 'Would it still be out there?'

The Doctor turned to her, and grinned that Cheshire Cat smirk of his.

'Of course.' he purred 'Shall we take a look?'

A minute later, the Doctor exited the TARDIS, locking the TARDIS behind him.

'I expect it'll right itself soon enough.' he said, turning the key in the lock. 'But for now, Mel…'

As he turned around, he saw Mel – or rather, her back. She was looking up at the council estate to their side; in particular, a fourth-floor window. A child was stood at it, gazing upon the strange people who had just appeared outside her window.

Mel smiled brightly, raising her hand and waving to the child – but they didn't wave back. Instead, the child just stared, looking at Mel.

'Mel?' the Doctor asked, holding a friendly smile in place the whole time.

'Yes, Doctor?' she replied, keeping her smile as well.

'I think it might be time to move on…'

'Yes.'

The two slowly raised their waving hands, before starting to move away from the window's view. As soon as they were out of sight, they snapped into a normal walk again; the Doctor using his umbrella as a walking stick and Mel letting her arms swing from side to side.

'So what was all that about?' Mel asked, jogging for a second to catch up with the Doctor.

'A mere juvenile curiosity, Mel. Something new turns up, you can't help but be fascinated.'

'Yes, I suppose so. Where are we going?'

'Back and forth, Mel, on an endless odyssey through the unknown and home again.'

'So you don't know?' Mel laughed, turning away from the Doctor for a second.

'Do any of us ever know?' the Doctor posed in response, half-serious.

Suddenly, he stopped. Mel carried on for a second, oblivious to the change, before stopping as well.

'Doctor?' she asked, spinning on the ball of her feet. She didn't get a reply. The Doctor was stood almost perfectly still, taking in a single, deep breath. 'Are you alright?'

'Can you taste that?' he asked, with the intonation of a schoolboy inspecting an insect in a jar. 'Just in the air…sort of…bitterness…'

'Taste what?' Mel asked, taking in a deep breath as well. After a moment's consideration, she added: 'Doesn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary. Bit…smoggy, but it's a city.'

'No, the bitterness. In the air…' the Doctor started, entranced by the taste. 'It's the taste of death.'

Suddenly, the Doctor dropped to the ground, with his legs extended and arms bent into a right angle, like he was about to do a press-up.

'Yes…' he grinned. 'That's it. It's much clearer down here!'

Mel looked around anxiously, playing the guard for the Doctor. The streets were completely empty, save for a prowling tabby cat currently rummaging through an upturned bin in the adjoining alleyway. Now taking comfort in the solace, she stooped down, meeting the Doctor at his level.

'Doctor, I can't smell anything.'

'No, no, not smell, taste, Mel, taste!' the Doctor said, a professor chiding an ignorant student.

'Well, I can't taste anything either!'

'Can't you?' he asked, a little saddened at the news. 'Oh yes…humans. Only the 9 senses…' came his mutter, as he traced around the pavement. 'There's a fingerprint…'

'Really?!' Mel asked incredulously, looking at the ground.

'Not an actual fingerprint,' the Doctor said. 'The indentation, the residue of an incident, just where we're standing. Not long…maybe last night?'

'An indentation?' Mel replied. 'Indentation of what?'

'Energy transferal. A lot of energy was moved very quickly, from one force to another. Some of it's going to be left behind, like a leaky pipe. Especially if it was quick as this…it was hungry. Feeding. Hence the sloppiness…'

'Doctor, what are you talking about?'

'Not sure, Mel.' the Doctor said. He stood up, using the umbrella as a prop. 'Probably just a spatio-temporal anomaly. Nothing to worry about.'

'Could that be what the TARDIS was reacting to before?'

'Yes, maybe…' the Doctor laughed, enjoying the thought. Then the laughing stopped. 'Oh no…' he muttered, staring into space. 'Mel?'

'Yes, Doctor?'

'I've just had a terrible thought. Come on.'

And with that, he started to run down the street, back the way they had arrived. Mel stood there for a second, flustered by the event, before running after him.

She stopped for breath against a wall, resting her foot against it whilst she drew deep, panting breaths. Just over her should, plastered to the wall, was a poster, several months old and showing it – the yellowing paper, once white, was now peeling at the edges, with dozens of graffiti over the top. But the poster was still legible.

In huge, emblazoned letters, it read: VOTE ERIC CHAMBERS, FOR A THIRD SUCCESSFUL TERM. VOTE NATIONAL THIS ELECTION DAY. And above the text was an image, in black and white but striking nonetheless, of a man, glaring at the camera, demanding the attention of anyone whose eye it happened to catch.

It was Eric.

Two minutes later, Mel had managed to catch up with the Doctor, after running flat out the entire time. Meanwhile, the Doctor, having barely broken a sweat, was stood in place, overlooking the courtyard. He held his hat to his chest, as if observing a passing hearse.

'Doctor?!' Mel gasped, between breaths. 'What was all that about?'

'It's my fault, Mel…' the Doctor murmured, clutching onto his mournful tone. 'It was me.'

'Well, what was it?' she asked, having finally regained her breath. And then the realisation started to dawn on her.

When she caught up with the Doctor, she'd been fixated on his, concentrating solely on where he was going, what he was doing, as anyone would. But she hadn't noticed where he'd led them to. The courtyard, with a council estate to the side.

It was where they had initially arrived.

Mel even found herself looking up at the window, just to see if the children was still there, looking down upon them. It did seem, however, that they had retreated from the viewpoint. Whether than was an omen for good or for bad, Mel wasn't sure.

She then thought about why the Doctor had brought them here. Maybe it was more of the energy residue he'd felt – tasted, back in the other street? No, it wouldn't be that urgent, that panicked if it had.

She was on the verge of simply asking the Doctor what was wrong, letting him feel the smug satisfaction of his superior intellect. It always happens like that, doesn't it? Whenever you're given a riddle, or a challenge, it always bests you. But whenever you ask for the answer, or a clue, it comes to you, in a blinding flash of light.

Mel started to look around her – over her shoulders, behind the wall, the way they'd come in. But none of it worked. Soon enough, she realised what the Doctor had meant. Why he was so desperate to return here, and how stupid she was for not realising it so much earlier.

The two of them stood in the courtyard, where they had first arrived in this time and place in the TARDIS.

But the TARDIS was nowhere to be seen.