Text Key
"Audible speech."
'Directed thought, telepathic speech.'
Chapter 10 - The Interstellar Market
Delaine wanted to be surprised. Hah. 'Surprise' would have been the Doctor's middle name if Gallifrey had ever stumbled upon the concept… though it was probably better they hadn't, given how long the ones they had tended to end up.
Tearing his mind away from thoughts of his home planet, the Doctor focused on the TARDIS controls, fingers drifting over the dials as he tuned the settings to some yet unnamed brainwave.
How to go about the business of finding a proper surprise? It had to be a good one, obviously, one that wouldn't be a follow-up to two stressful adventures, following the rather easy stipulation of 'outside the nineteenth century'… shouldn't be hard. A concert was a little too close to tempting fate after the failed attempt at Ian Dury and something in him demanded the next move be impressive.
'More impressive than watching the rotation of the Earth from the exosphere?' his Sixth asked.
'Shush.' Something impressive that wasn't frightening or intense, but low-stakes and fun for his companions without being tedious for himself.
'Why all the fuss? It's not like you're planning a date. Unless…?'
The Doctor slammed shut the door of his mind. Convenience of having peer review readily on hand in times of crisis aside, dealing with the petty quibbles and unasked for opinions of his former selves often proved to be a near constant headache. Particularly when they decided to give those opinions on matters that didn't require even an ounce of their input. It was fine when dealing with alien computer systems or calculating odds, but so much less fun when shopping for…
Shopping.
Well, it was an idea, if nothing else. A chance to sample different cultures in a nonthreatening environment, an opportunity to relax without having to sit still for an hour or more… and the Doctor had been meaning to pick up a few things for the TARDIS, so why not?
It wasn't like anything could go wron-
The Doctor cut off the thought. No, didn't need to speak it. Didn't even need to think it. That was just asking for something to do just that. The door to 'something going wrong at some point in the next forty minutes' was now hanging wide-
This time, his thoughts were cut off by an actual door opening - revealing his companions.
Rose was looking golden as always, wearing a denim jacket and skirt combination that he remembered from one of their earlier adventures, though the soft pink jumper with the powder blue butterflies and the matching leggings were new.
Delaine, on the other hand, looked like she'd been dredged up from the bottom of a river after being declared missing three days previously. Damp dark hair clung to the sides of her face with only the sheer volume of it keeping it from looking entirely plastered down - 'the tragic side-effect of thick hair,' his Fourth chimed in, tone sympathetic, 'is that it takes so sodding long to dry' - and the dark green suede of yet another of his Eighth self's coats didn't add any lively colors to her palette.
The leopard print waistcoat would go without commentary.
"So where are we off to next?" Rose asked. "I'd like to drop in on my mum sometime soon."
"Ah, I don't see why we can't after this next trip," the Doctor said as he finished fiddling with the dials. He looked up at Delaine. "I did promise someone a 'surprise', after all."
He threw the materialization lever and watched the girls stumble as the TARDIS threw herself out of the Vortex, wheezing through the process of materialization. Before they could fully get their balance back, he was at the door, and as soon as he was certain that all of their attention was fixed on him, the Doctor pushed it open.
"Allow me to present… the Uberlan Bazaar of the Bizarre," he said as the view of a city under a spread of stars and the ghostly glow of a white dwarf sun appeared before them. "I mean, technically, 'of the Bizarre' is me editorializing a bit, but it doesn't really sound right without it…"
Crickets. Really? Not a single comment?
"Right," the Doctor said, coughing into his hand before he continued speaking. Stepping out onto the planetoid's surface, he gestured around. "Founded by the Second Great and Bountiful Human Empire, you are seeing one of Humanity's first intergalactic trading posts. You can find anything here from warp generators to produce from Altari Seven and on down to collapsible snooker tables and other oddities collected from every populated world within a hundred billion lightyears."
He turned to Delaine, flashing a grin. "Pretty impressive, yeah?"
She shrugged.
The Doctor's grin cracked a little at the lackluster reaction, but he could recover from that. "Anyway, didn't really get the chance to lay out the usual rules, but here's the basics; don't wander off, let me do all the talking, do exactly as I say-"
Little flicker of emotion at that rule.
"- never pick violence as your first option," he continued, putting his own reaction to that aside. "Ah, and don't eat anything that you aren't sure is totally safe, unless I give you the all clear first. Sound fair?"
"Fair enough," Delaine said mildly as she stepped out of the TARDIS, looking around with mild curiosity. "How far counts as 'wandering off'?"
'Oh, that's a reassuring query.'
"Let's start off at about four or five meters for now," the Doctor decided. That was reasonable, right? Not too confining, but not so loose as to risk too much trouble. "Though you might want to stick a little closer than that here - the crowds can get pretty thick and I wouldn't want to lose you in them."
Was there anything else… ah, right.
"Spending money," he said, pulling a couple brightly colored plastic credit chips out of his pockets - and only after a little bit of rummaging even - and handing them over to his companions. "Would be unreasonable bringing you to one of the best flea markets in the universe and not letting you actually buy anything… though maybe don't go too mad with them. I may or may not have adjusted them to not have any proper spending limit."
Rose took hers with a smile, the hot pink plastic a near match for her fingernail polish. "Was planning on getting a little something for my mum to make up for Christmas," she said. "What about you?"
"Oh, I imagine something will jump out at me," Delaine murmured, turning the little blue chip around in her fingers a couple times before tucking it into one of the pockets on her waistcoat. Probably had discovered how deep a Time Lord's pockets go already and didn't want to have to spend too much time digging, the Doctor rationalized.
It was a little odd how she favored his Eighth's old clothes, but they weren't too far off in size. Maybe she just liked the color green.
'Or perhaps I forgot something I wasn't supposed to again,' his Eighth mused. 'Not like it hasn't happened with a companion before, but usually it comes back to me at some point.'
Somehow, that idea did more to sour the Doctor's good mood than Delaine's casual indifference.
As they entered one of the main trade lanes, the Doctor dropped back a few steps behind his companions to watch them.
Delaine seemed content to follow Rose's lead, occasionally tilting her head to follow some detail of their surroundings before turning back to refocus on the younger girl. There wasn't a proper sort of trust there, not really, but there was at least the sort of respect a person gave to a tour guide - a deference to either greater experience with the location or at least the fact that they gave the impression of knowing where they wanted to go.
Either that or she was trying to keep Rose out of trouble.
That theory was confirmed when Delaine pulled Rose clear of a fireball a short orange alien wearing a floral sundress had belched at the blonde after a short argument. A short exchange of words - this time without any gouts of flame - and his companions left, Rose shoving some manner of prize deep into one of her pockets.
"Can't believe she charged me extra," the blonde groused.
"Traditionally, I think it's called 'the asshole customer tax'," Delaine replied. As Rose turned around to glare at her, she continued, "Shouldn't have said anything about pink not being her color."
"It isn't."
"Perhaps, but sometimes keeping your opinion to yourself works out best for everyone," Delaine said with a shrug before turning to walk into a small bookstore styled in a quaint retro-Earth style, leaving the Doctor and Rose behind.
As Rose started mouthing something Delaine's back that the Doctor assumed was less than complimentary, he interrupted.
"So how's it going with Delaine?" he asked, already having a fair idea of the answer he was about to receive.
"It's…" Rose threw her hands up in the air. "I have no idea. It's impossible to get her to say anything about herself. And she so… all she has to say to me is 'don't'. 'Don't start anything', 'don't argue', 'stop talking'. I'm just… I guess I thought when you said she was my contemporary, we'd have something in common, but no! It's like going on an adventure with the school librarian! Complete with aiming for the bookstore!"
"What's wrong with books?"
"Nothing… when you're not in a future marketplace where you can find practically anything," Rose huffed. "Anti-gravity and alien jewelry, and she skips right on past them to look at ink on paper."
"I think I remember someone going straight to the chip vendor the first time I took her to a future market," the Doctor pointed out.
"That's different."
The Doctor hummed. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Tegan and Adric never got along either…"
"And who were they?"
Hadn't he mentioned – no, probably not. Retrospectives were something he went out of his way to avoid unless they suddenly became relevant to a current situation.
"Companions I had in an earlier regeneration. An air hostess and an alien maths prodigy, had absolutely nothing in common and argued all the time. I might have lost my mind from all the bickering if not for Nyssa," he explained. At Rose's look of surprise, the Doctor asked, "What? You didn't think I spent all my lives in a cave before I met you, did you?"
Rose didn't reply, though her sudden refusal to look him in the face was more than enough answer to the question.
The Doctor sighed, scratching the back of his head. He hated awkward personal moments. "Alright, what section do you think Delaine will be in?"
Right. Rose's first suggestion of 'whatever's the least fun' was dismissed, leaving the Doctor to guess at where in the store - which could have easily been a filing cabinet in a previous life, the Doctor noted as he squeezed past haphazard piles of books stacked by customers who couldn't have been bothered to put them back properly, peering past every corner and cranny large enough to hide a body, trying to catch a glimpse of green suede and dark hair.
There was no way to track her by sound, really, what with active noise cancelling technology serving as a hard enforcement of a library's silence - only alarms and something as loud as a scream would be allowed to get past them -, so that left guessing as to Delaine's taste in literature.
Fantasy and Science fiction had failed to produce his companion, as did his brief venture into Humor - where he may or may not have gotten distracted by a particularly well-made pop-up book for a few minutes -, leaving the Time Lord to wander the stacks, trying to take what little he knew about Delaine to guess at what section she'd be haunting.
Tabloids? No, she didn't seem the type. Magazines similarly felt like the wrong choice. But Poetry, fives aisles back from the New Releases, held a sense of promise.
And there she was… caught in a clearly animated discussion with an individual lurking just out of his line of sight, an unfamiliar expression of enjoyment stretched across her features.
Shoving the spike of irrational irritation aside, the Doctor stepped around a pile of harlequinesque paperback romances - the moving picture covers just shy of being obscene by the standards of the current era -, careful not to step on any loose pages. Slipping on slapdash fiction would be rather counterproductive to both the act of sneaking and maintaining his dignity.
'Oh, we still have some of that?' his Fourth asked. 'I could have sworn we used up the last centuries ago…"
Ignoring his past self's comment, the Doctor snuck closer. Eventually, he would reach the barrier of the noise cancellers and be able to properly eavesdrop…
Delaine's laugh broke through, loud enough for the cancellers to register it as a sign of potential alarm, and the Doctor found that sense of jealous irritation rearing its head again.
That was his companion.
The Doctor made to run around the corner and step in, only to stop short.
'Oh no.' He knew that coat. He knew that hair. He knew that little enamel cat.
'Oh yes!' Six threw in giddily, drinking in the sight of himself in full technicolor glory, one hand in the air and the other balancing a decent sized stack of books as the Doctor's past self happily prattled on about the works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, name dropping other poets he'd met along the way of various adventures.
And Delaine was standing there, watching him, rapt and smiling, with tilt to her posture that was… doubly annoying for who it was aimed at.
'I know you didn't get all that much positive attention during your tenure, but really? Right here, right now, with my companion? Right in front of me?'
'Well, it's not like I know anything about that. And it's not like either of them know you're here-'
The Doctor bared his teeth in a grin as he squared up his shoulders - not specifically built for intimidation, but they'd do - and got ready to make his move. 'They're about to.'
Clearing the last few feet, the Doctor stretched out a hand to Delaine's shoulder and wrapped himself around her, ignoring the way she'd stiffened up at the sudden contact. "Having an interesting conversation, are we?"
"Oh," his Sixth said, his expression immediately changing from sunny smiles to stormy displeasure as he brought the hand he had been gesturing down to rest on his hip. "You."
"Yes, me," the Doctor replied, pulling Delaine in closer despite her immediate attempt to wriggle away. "I see you've met my latest companion."
"Mmm, yes. We were discussing the Romantic poets, among other things," his past self said, lifting up his stack of books. "Very well read. It's good to see that I at least maintain some -" the word was accompanied by a critical and entirely hypocritical once-over of the Doctor's current outfit "-sense of good taste in my old age."
The Time Lord's initial spike of annoyance suddenly felt a lot more justified. "High words from someone wearing that coat. I forget, did you steal that from some sort of clown college or was there some sort of paint factory explosion involved?"
"Aha, I was waiting for that. Is that a habit of yours, pointing out the most obvious things in front of you, or is that merely reserved for formal occasions?" Six sneered. "And that is some fine fashion advice to be giving, Mister Monochromatic, seeing as I can't ever recall anyone finding an outfit in a singularly solid shade of muckraker brown overly inspiring."
"Oi, I got blue in here," the Doctor snapped, releasing his grip on Delaine so he could pull up his leg by the cuff of his trousers. "See? Blue pinstripes."
"Oh, so bold. You only need to use a magnifying glass and a trained guide to find them in the first place," Six shot back, stretching out his own leg to show off the thin black lines running down the banana yellow fabric that made up his trousers - no comment was made on the fact that the very same material was on the cuffs of his coat. "Now, these, you can actually discern the sartorial intent of the stripes -"
"Boys, boys; you're both pretty," Delaine said. "Now shut up and keep your pants on."
The shot seemed more aimed at the latest model of the Doctor than his past self, but both versions found their mouths closing instantly.
"Can't even have five minutes of peace," his companion muttered under her breath, raking a hand back through her hair before refocusing. "Did you need something, Doctor?"
Oh, that tone of voice was hardly the marker of anything good. "Just wondered where you'd wandered off to," he hedged, carefully avoiding eye contact. "Didn't want to lose you on your third adventure."
His Sixth raised an eyebrow at him before initiating telepathic contact. 'You've only just met her and she's this vexed with you?'
'Oh, like you have room to talk, Mr. 'Tact and Finesse'.'
"Jesus fucking Christ, I don't even want to know what sort of silent bitchfit is going on between the two of you fight now," Delaine said. "Is this about me ditching Rose? Because I thought it was probably better to get some space between us before something else caught fire."
Six was giving him the eyebrow again.
'Shut it,' the Doctor said before his former self could spin into another round of judgment. "She… may have mentioned something like that."
"In probably less friendly words, I'd guess, probably covering why I'm boring and a controlling buzzkill for keeping her from getting lit up like the Fourth of July by that woman she insulted," Delaine said, clicking her tongue in annoyance. "Teenagers."
"…that's not entirely off the mark," the Doctor admitted, slightly embarrassed. He reached over to take Delaine's hand. "But we've got other things to do, so-"
And, of course, that's when his Sixth decided to step in.
"Well, my dear," he purred, placing his free hand on Delaine's shoulder. "If there is a conflict of personality preventing your travels from being as pleasant as they could be, I would be more than happy to welcome you aboard my TARDIS, seeing as I'm between travel companions at the moment."
Technically, the same exact TARDIS with the same exact pilot, just at a much earlier point in their respective timelines, but it wasn't like Delaine would just know that.
Worse, she looked terribly interested in the offer, despite Six's… everything.
Though, really, should he have expected any sense of taste from the companion wearing leopard print? The two didn't even properly clash when placed next to each other, and Six clashed with everything, including himself. It almost looked comfortable.
Unfortunately, the Doctor found himself naturally opposed to that. "No. Absolutely not. The temporal mechanics -"
"-allow a certain amount of leeway, so long as any loops are closed appropriately," his past self finished, eyeing his future incarnation with a signature smirk of superiority on his face. "And I am most certain that I can handle such things quite neatly."
"Oh, with the same TARDIS you disassemble every other week trying to 'fix' some problem you managed to create the last time you worked on her?" the Doctor shot back, sticking his hands in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels. "That'll be some trick, considering you can't ever manage to hit the Eye of Orion after… how many tries? I forgot, was it closer to four or fourteen? Regardless, I'm not sure you'd be able to handle anything as delicate as a temporal loop."
"Handle - of course I can handle that!" Six spat back. "Nothing is as simple as closing a temporal loop, except for making one, even if the latter is often categorically irresponsible."
"And here's me countering that statement in one word; Mel," the Doctor shot back, not even bothering to fight the smirk crawling over his own face as his past self looked away awkwardly. His 'victory' in this debate, small as it was, was just about guaranteed, given that his counterpart still hadn't fully resolved his history with Melanie Bush just yet… and still wouldn't manage it for quite some time.
Six, ever so ready to argue even in the face of a near certain loss, puffed himself up to his maximum height, a rebuttal clearly forming on his tongue… only to deflate as Delaine turned around to face him, gingerly taking the hand that had been on her shoulder in her own.
"I appreciate the offer, really, but I don't think you should put yourself at risk for my sake," she said.
"It really is no trouble at all," Six demurred, the effect undercut by the complete sense of emotional and mental disarmament ringing through their shared mental connection. What might have started out as a simple case of being charmed by a potential companion was apparently now spinning out into something a lot more obvious and a lot more inconvenient.
There was also the problem of Delaine clearly being on the same wavelength.
'Good Gallifrey, you're acting like a school girl finding out her first crush liked someone else. They are just holding hands.'
'Oh, and like you're one to talk, Three, with the way you slunk out of Jo's engagement party like you were the jilted bride.'
'It wasn't like that.'
Ignorant of the mental screaming going on behind her, Delaine kissed his Sixth's knuckles before tilting her head to the side to look up at him. "You're very sweet, but you don't have to worry about me. This one might be an idiot -"
Ow.
"-but I'll survive; the universe knows damn well that I'm indestructible," she finished, mouth twisting into a disarmingly gentle smile as she reached up to smooth down the lapels of Six's garish coat. "And who knows? Maybe we'll run into each other again… and have some better luck while we're at it."
Neither the irony of that statement or the blatant flirtation was lost on either version of the Doctor, though their reactions to it couldn't have been more different.
"Well," his Sixth finally said, apparently lost for words for once, though not unhappy for it. "One can only hope. I'll leave you to your shopping and your… minder."
He handed Delaine the stack of books he'd been holding and, with one last smile - properly soft and not nearly as smug as was usual for that incarnation - aimed at his companion, he departed.
"Later, kitten," Delaine called after him, leaving the Doctor to restrain impulse to screech in shock.
'KITTEN?!' half a dozen voices that weren't restrained cried out in imperfect chorus, tones varying from bemused and baffled to outright horrified… though that might have just been the current model. Four, for his part, seemed content to simply laugh at the situation.
As soon as his past self was gone, though, so was Delaine's smile and anything remotely soft about her, leaving the Doctor to duck back from a kick aimed at his side.
"What was that for?!"
"Being an asshole!" she hissed.
'And now we've returned to our regularly scheduled prickly pear.'
"Excuse me–? I swoop in to rescue you from a bore –"
'A bore? A bore?! A BORE?!'
And there was the Sixie the Doctor was familiar with; loud and easily offended.
Delaine, for her part, scoffed. "Yeah, well, I'm sure it's been said before, but swooping is bad. I was getting places before you decided to play the part of Captain Cockblock–"
The Doctor's brain screeched to a half for a second and a half, which was an eternity by a Time Lord's standards, as his imagination tried to parse out that, a problem further exacerbated by the fact that Four was still laughing and had actually managed to start laughing harder, even as the rest muddled between amusement, panic, and vague disgust.
'Kitten', for his part, seemed to be further delighted by the development, though content enough for the moment with watching Delaine tear his successor apart.
"- but, nooo, you just had to stake your territory. It's a wonder I was able to give a proper goodbye, what with you trying to assert dominance and prove yourself the big cock on the block," she said, wrapping up her tirade by dropping her tone to something that was mere condescension compared to the previous active irritation. "That was really fucking rude."
'Well, 'rude and not ginger' is in the description of this model.'
Ignoring his past selves, the Doctor focused on his companion, shoving the question of what she thought was a 'proper goodbye' - and what was that earlier? An improper one? - out of his mind. "Could you have at least picked… anyone else?"
Clearly the wrong thing to say, as she looked to be winding up for another kick. "On what merit?"
"Someone… more attractive?" the Doctor tried, abruptly aware of the minefield he'd just entered.
'Excuse me? Excuse you? More attractive? More attractive?! MORE ATTRACTIVE?! YOU-'
"What, like you?" Oh, that barely disguised disgust was almost Romana-esque… if Romana had ever been inclined to vulgar language and physical violence. Nobody else quite managed to make a concept sound repellent on a subatomic level. "Not a chance in hell."
"No, not me," the Doctor said quickly. Not any 'me' at all was the idea, even if the immediate and absolute rejection stung a bit. "I just… why him?"
Delaine, though rolling her eyes, began to count off her fingers. "Intelligent, polite, pleasant company –"
'Pleasant,' his Second repeated mockingly.
"– sweet natured, and, yes, I would say attractive. Physically and personality wise. And that's all you're getting from me. I don't owe you an essay on my romantic and sexual preferences."
Six didn't say a word to that, though the amount of smugness coiling around that section of the Doctor's mind like a particularly pleased cat said more than enough.
"Well, there's no accounting for taste, I suppose," the Doctor decided, even if he did want to ask for an essay just to glean even an iota of understanding how the hell Delaine's brain was supposed to work. "I can't see the appeal myself."
"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly accounting for taste coming from the guy who's tastes seem to be best summed up as 'aggressively heterosexual. Small, busty, blonde, and obnoxious isn't really my dish."
And Six wasn't half of those things? "I'll admit Rose can be a little rough around the edges," he said as he followed Delaine up to the automated cashier.
"Like sandpaper," Delaine muttered as she ran the credit chip in front of the sensor.
"But she's ultimately a good person," he added. "She has done some amazing things."
"And she's also gotten into arguments with strangers over things like whether or not pink is their color or unfamiliar people who strike as a potential rival for her boyfriend's affections, even if they are very much. Not. Interested," Delaine supplied, sarcasm dripping from her words as she collected her books. "Yeah, she's a real peach."
The Doctor winced. "I'm sorr-"
Delaine's expression shifted to something both harder and softer than it had been before - not the gentle fascination Six had gotten, but something steady and reliable. "Rose Tyler is a human with free will and her own decision-making process; that it's a shit one is on her and the most you can do with that is ask her to work on it. Free piece of advice - don't apologize for things you have no control over, be they forces of nature or teenage girls."
"Bit hard to tell the difference sometimes, isn't it?" the Doctor asked, half joking.
Delaine's expression remained serious. "Rose's words and actions are on her, even if they can cause trouble for other people. If she lives long enough, she'll probably learn how to manage them better, hopefully before she does someone irreparable damage," she said as they exited the bookshop.
Rose, who had been waiting across the street, stood up from where she was leaning against a building, waving to the Doctor as she began to jog over.
Before the Doctor could go to meet her though, Delaine caught him by the sleeve, pulling the Time Lord back a bit.
"As for you, Doctor," she said. "Don't apologize to me for something you did or didn't do unless you are going to make every reasonable effort to make sure it doesn't happen again."
With that, she released his sleeve, just as Rose joined them.
"You were in there long enough," Rose said, casting a peevish look at Delaine. "What took you?"
"Tried tracking down a Book of Practical Cats," Delaine said smoothly, the lie tripping off her tongue with barely a twitch. "I wash hoping to find a copy with the fragments that didn't make the first cut, but no such luck on a patchwork edition."
The look on Rose's face screamed of interest long lost. "So we headed back to the TARDIS now?" she asked the Doctor.
"Yes - I was going to do some shopping for parts myself, but I think I should make a day of that later," the Time Lord said, checking his watch. "Given all the excitement today."
"Sounds just fine to me."
Delaine, for her part, simply shrugged.
"Now, that bit about T.S. Eliot was a barefaced lie," the Doctor said as Rose ran ahead of them to the TARDIS. "Why? What was even the point?"
"I like Cats the Musical and I don't care for catfights - and I am really not interested in giving Rose Tyler-" there was an emphasis on Rose's name that made it sound like a near expletive merely in need of another hard consonant to be clear of the 'near', "-a play-by-play of my day."
"You don't trust her?" That could be a problem.
"With something major? I don't imagine she'd leave me to die or push me into a convenient volcano, if that's what you're worried about, and I wouldn't do her the same disservice" Delaine said before laughing - a short, bitter noise compared to the one Six had drawn out of her earlier. "But with my fucking love life? Absolutely not."
"And so you used Cats as a cover, because that's somehow better."
A smirk stole its way across her face. "Like you could look at that man and not see a cat."
'Bustopher Jones, if we're to pick a specific Jellicle.'
Ignoring the fight that managed to stir up, the Doctor gestured for Delaine to enter the TARDIS ahead of him, closing the door on the bazaar behind him as he followed her.
He'd forgotten something.
That wasn't particularly uncommon for the Doctor, forgetting things. When the fate of a planet, a galaxy, or a significant chunk of the universe was on the line, it was easy to lose track of smaller things like keys, lunch, and the directions to that restaurant that he'd been meaning to visit for a few decades on. Usually, the Doctor was pretty good at remembering things - or at least, finding something to jog the memory of the thing later - but sometimes some things stayed lost and forgotten.
Like To-Do Lists or certain bullet points from the Guide To Proper Companion Care.
So there was a rather sharp reminder of the fact that humans typically needed beds - which required bedrooms - to sleep in when he'd returned to the console room after a few hours of TARDIS repair elsewhere, only to find Delaine curled up in the command chair with one of her new poetry books.
She didn't even look up from the text, merely turning the page. "Evening. Or morning, I suppose."
"You aren't going to wish me a good one of either?"
Another page turned. "Oh, what an opening for a Hobbit quote. Alas, the motivation is absent and the moment is lost."
"Why are you still in here?"
"Because I don't quite think that leaving is an option given that it's the void outside right now."
"Vortex, really. The Void is a completely different thing," the Doctor corrected before switching back to his original track. "I mean, why are you still in the console room? You have a room."
Dark eyes flicked up to focus on him, giving the Doctor a moment to appreciate both how close that shade of brown was to being properly black and how hard it was to read any emotion in them. "First I've heard of it."
Ah. Right. Hadn't actually gotten one for her yet. "Well, that's entirely fixable. Can't have you sleeping out here anyway. Probably end up getting human drool in something important."
The Doctor motioned for Delaine to follow him into the labyrinthine interior of the TARDIS.
"You'll want to stay close to me in here," the Time Lord warned. "It is very easy to get lost if you don't know what you're doing… or if she doesn't like you."
To Delaine's credit, her gaze went up towards the ceiling at his mention of 'she', the TARDIS buzzing back in response to the acknowledgement.
'Already a favored guest. Always a good sign.'
Still, the Doctor did not want to take any chances with this companion - as low as the odds were of Six walking in through the door to snatch Delaine off her feet if the current model didn't suitably impress…
'Don't tempt me.'
…there was still a sense of anxiety about doing this properly.
"Going to try shacking me up with Rose?" Delaine asked after they'd passed a handful of doors.
"Oh god no, one of you would end up committing murder by morning," the Doctor said, ignoring the explosion of laughter from some of his past selves at the patently ridiculous idea. "Rather not tempt fate on that one, if you don't mind."
'I think I would put higher odds on the young lady with the knife when it comes to the matter of who would come out on top in that particular catfight, myself,' his Fourth threw out.
'I'd hardly call either a pussy cat, but a human against the Bad Wolf girl...'
'Oh, the Wolf thing hardly counts now, you know that.'
'Definitely our young bibliophile.'
'What a surprise.'
'You're biased, Sixie, don't try to deny it.'
'What can I say? I've always possessed impeccable taste,' his Sixth said, pulling at an imaginary pair of coat lapels.
'In companions and cuisine, if nothing else.'
On that subject, the Doctor found himself reminded of something that had been bothering him earlier. He cleared his throat. "Earlier, you called me pretty."
"You're not," Delaine said flatly. "I wanted the argument over and that's a pretty standard in for cutting off a cockfight before it can properly start."
"But you thought he was pretty."
"Because he is."
Six preened.
"But not this," the Doctor said, gesturing at his own face.
"Not at all."
"Not getting anything out of this face? Really?"
"I'm getting the desire to punch you in it."
"Alright, alright, dropping that subject," the Doctor said, holding up his hands in surrender for a moment before adding one last, "Still not sure what you see in him."
Delaine rolled her eyes. "Don't make a thing out of it."
"What sort of thing?"
"The 'oho, I must mock you for having feelings for eternity' or 'haha, you got a crush on someone I don't respect' sort of thing. Because I will punch you if you do."
The fact that she seemed to think that he was even capable of that was a bit insulting… though he would carefully be not thinking about all the things he might have done in the past that could have met the definition of either category.
"And you weren't worried about ol' Rainbow Brite making a thing out of it?" the Doctor asked.
"A 'someone was flirting with me and then some asshole in brown swooped in to ruin any progress made there' sort of thing? Or are you simply looking to prove yourself right in this conversation?"
Ow. "Sorry. I was under the impression that you were the bantering type."
"Banter is one thing – mocking something someone cares about is just cruel."
The Doctor paused for a moment to take that statement in. "No, I wouldn't do that – well, not in this case, anyway. Wouldn't want to get punched."
"Tell me a bit about yourself."
"Are we ever going to find that room, Doctor? Or is this just a comfortable way of forcing conversation for you?"
"No, no. It'll help the TARDIS pin down something that'll suit you." While also giving the Doctor a little better understanding of his new companion while they were at it. "So…interests, hobbies. Anything up that alley?"
"Ah. I enjoy reading…"
"Figured that out."
"…working with animals, repair work – mostly automotive and mechanical, but I've been known to venture into electronics. I also enjoy vehicles in general. Mostly motorcycles."
"Really."
Delaine shrugged. "It's a hobby I'm good at that pays money. Ideal job description."
'And where does knife fighting play into that?'
"So what do you ordinarily look for in a bedroom?" he asked before pulling a verbal backspace as Delaine turned to pin him with an unimpressed stare. "I mean, in style. Décor. Furniture."
A small smile cracked and then faded as quickly as it came. "Something comfortable. Not too big or too small. Décor doesn't need to match, so long as it's comfortable, and I'd like decent shelving for books and other things. Nothing in solid white, beige, yellow, or pink."
'Should I take exception to that?' his Fifth asked.
'She wasn't talking about your dress sense.'
"Dark colors then?"
"That'd be fine. I'm also partial to wood paneling," she added before looking around the hall. Like most of the TARDIS's interior, there were very little in the way of distinguishing marks, leaving the contents of any given room to act as identifiers… and even that was subject to change. "Are we going to be there anytime soon? Hate to have to go on an Odyssey every time we leave the TARDIS."
"She'll move your room to where it needs to be once we find it," the Doctor promised.
A gentle touch ghosted across the surface of the Doctor's mind; the TARDIS had finally found a room for Delaine. Either that, or she'd gleaned enough from touching off his companion's mind to improvise.
'A question of the chicken and the egg when all you need to know about is the omelet,' his First sniffed.
The Doctor reached out to the door the TARDIS had chosen, tapping the center of it with two fingers. "This is the one."
Delaine stared, eyes flicking from him to the door and back again.
"Oh, come on," the Doctor said. "It's late, you humans need your sleep, and it's not like I put a bottomless pit on the other side."
'You didn't do that either did you?' he asked the TARDIS, who gave him an annoyed buzz in response.
Delaine finally stepped forward, carefully pushing open the door to reveal…
Well. Something.
It wasn't a bad sized room for a companion, certainly not the biggest the TARDIS had ever produced, but not the smallest either. There were no windows, almost no décor on the walls - which alternated between the desired wood paneling and an industrial sort of look that could have been cribbed from his Eighth's console room, complete with the soft blue lighting that had characterized the TARDIS at that time -, and the furniture selection was…
Well.
It was a bit prison cell-ish.
Most of that impression came from the bunkbed - or rather, the bare metal bedframe of a bunkbed, without even a benefit of a mattress to serve as a sleeping surface -, but there were other things, like how the wooden writing desk shoved into the corner covered in deep gouges or how the Doctor immediately suspected the casually garish oval rug in the middle of the floor which to be woven out of hemp string and old plastic shopping bags.
That wasn't to say it was all bad; there was a decent bookshelf next to the bed though which did not look like it'd been salvaged from a werewolf's resale shop, and a tall cedar boudoir with a brass lock and almost no battle damage to its name, but those few good features the Doctor could find couldn't quite make up for the raw inhospitality of the room.
"Nice," Delaine said, almost sounding like she was genuinely happy with the room. "You got a room with blankets?"
"I am so sorry, she usually doesn't -j"
"No, no. It's a good room. Very nice lighting. And the bed's fine - I just need steal some blankets and pillows to fill it out properly." She threw herself down on the springs, the mesh weave squeaking as it bounced and dipped under her weight. "Did this at camp once with a sleeping bag. One of the most comfortable beds I'd ever slept on."
Americans were strange animals with weird standards for comfort and safety, the Doctor decided, swallowing down the immediate desire to argue.
"Alright," he said instead, stepping back into the hall. "Just check the rooms around here - the TARDIS probably has some extra blankets that you can borrow."
The Doctor closed the door over the small croak of 'steeeaaal', turning to head back the direction of the console room, an ember of glowing satisfaction nestled somewhere between his hearts.
What a contrary companion. Serious and silly at different times without quite losing the thread that said 'yes, still the same person'. A person who the Time Lord was likely still far from completely understanding and appreciating, but one who was slowly starting to reveal the different facets to her character.
'One of which being the romantic I uncovered,' his Sixth said, still puffed up with all the praise Delaine had showered upon him during and after their encounter. 'Poetry? Pet names? Flirtation?'
Yes, that had been unexpected and, actually, more than a little bit annoying from two entirely different angles. Six was still sour on the fact that he had been denied even more positive attention than what he'd gotten, and the current model was annoyed with… well, the lack of that attention carrying over.
Not that he had a romantic interest in Delaine - of that, he was certain -, it was just not at all fun being dismissed that quickly and casually.
'Still have no idea what she saw in you.'
'A kitten, though a puppy might be more appropriate seeing how easily she brings him to heel,' his Eighth noted with perfect matter-of-factness as he brought up Delaine's 'pet name' for Six.
'Oh, I'm certain she was interested in more than just a little petting…'
Eight sideswiped the innuendo with another pun. 'You could say that they're purrfectly matched.'
'There is no pussyfooting around that fact, is there?'
'Miaowvelous addition, One.'
The Doctor groaned aloud. 'This isn't actually as amusing as you all seem to think it is.'
'Don't you mean 'amewsing?'
'I hate you.'
'Now don't get hissterical. It's an ocelot of work coming up with these puns and I'd be lion if I said we weren't beginning to run out.'
'Oh, I'd say there's a bit of tiger left in the tank…' Four said around what could only be a Cheshire cat grin.
"Shhh!" the Doctor hissed before reaching up to massage his temples. "Maybe this is why there's a thirteen-regeneration limit; because having more people than that sharing the same head space would drive anyone mad."
'Only if they're particularly interesting people, I would think…'
'And to think that you're only at eleve–'
"Ten," he corrected forcibly. "That one doesn't exist."
That was a lie. The Warrior was locked away, consigned to the depths of his mind without any hope of escape without the Doctor's deliberate action, but that didn't magically erase his existence, much as the Doctor wished it might.
His thoughts were interrupted – one might even say 'thankfully' – by the sound of a call coming through the console. Before it could ring a second time, the Doctor had the receiver up to his ear.
"Hello, you've reached the Doctor. If you've got to ask 'Doctor Who', then you just might have the wrong number," he said in a carefully regulated cheer. "If this is an old enemy of some description, feel free to take up the issue with someone else. If this is an emergency –"
"Doctor!" a familiar voice shouted from the other end of the line.
"Mickey Smith!" the Doctor said around a grin.
"Glad to see you've finally got my name right," Mickey Smith muttered before raising his voice again. "Anyway, do you know how annoying it is trying to get hold of you? I swear, the last time I tried the number you gave me, this complete nutter answered. Kept me on the line for hours, going on about jelly babies and trying to convince me that I could solve the issue by playing with a yoyo and deleting system32 from my computer – stop laughing! This is serious!"
The Doctor smothered his giggles. "Alright then," he said. "Give me your date and location, and once I've got that punched in, you can tell me all about your 'emergency'…"
Bonus
'Seducing my past incarnation, are you?' Zeke asked.
I grinned at the ceiling. "Fuck yeah, I am."
The TARDIS buzzed back at me, apparently already apprised of the situation – more than likely by the Doctor – and incredibly amused with it. Whether that would translate to enabling it to happen again, I couldn't say, but it was fun having her to bounce off of emotionally.
'I'd question your taste, but you willingly wear leopard print, so…'
'A strong position to take, considering your sweater collection.'
I could feel him shrug. 'They're comfortable.'
Six's voice was comfortable.
'Well, I suppose you could do worse… though I can't see much of the appeal myself. Not my area, you know.'
Author's Notes
Ten: are you serious? Right in front of my salad?
Updated 10/24/2021. Yes, I spent a significant chunk of Doctor Who day working on this.
Aaaaah.
Okay, the story behind this chapter is a mess. Not just because it's the second wholly original story plot (though that didn't exactly help) but also because I went through about three different versions of it before I just went 'fuck it' and made it into a one-shot of the most harmless and consistent pieces of all of them (the future alien market bit, the Sixth Doctor being there and hitting it off with Delaine – it's a cat thing –, the Doctor suffering mild indignity because of that) and then shoehorned in the stock 'here's your room on the TARDIS' bit.
(At least I've been informed it's stock. I've only seen it in a couple fics, I think, though I can't profess to be an encyclopedia on Doctor Who fic.)
The parts that didn't make the cut are packed away for future use, cause I did manage to get some good bits in them, they just were a little too much too early for use in this one. The 2021 revision was also difficult, as I had to refine a lot of different conversations to avoid weird repeats and get a bit more mileage out of certain areas - which I think may have bloated the wordcount a bit but this was the indulgence chapter so…
No, Lightsbane, the title for a knighted woman is always 'Dame' ex. Dame Judi Dench, Dame Maggie Smith. The reason why Delaine was knighted as 'Sir' was that – thanks to her dress, the acceptable variance for male hair length in the era, and the way she presented herself – she was mistaken for a man.
And yes, that means that Sir Integra Hellsing is a product of either erroneous research or Rule Of Cool.
Yes, Kneel, this one probably 'feels' shorter because where the original version had finished up with 'Age of Steel/Rise Of the Cybermen', this rewrite is just beginning to move into 'School Reunion', though there is also some wholly original content shoved in here as well. (2021 addition - and things will take a while to get past that point again as I tighten up the remaining chapters - hopefully, that won't take as long because most of them are fairly solid).
The Uberlan Bazaar and Altari Seven are of my own creation. Just… kind of generic names, mostly for background color. Originally I had Uberlan in more detail, but honestly it turned out to be unimportant to the plot (which was originally very different and so allowed for that kind of detail). At least one of them is going to show up again just to get more mileage out of my original creations.
The forgotten companion the Doctor was thinking about was Charlotte Pollard from the Big Finish Audios. First a companion of the Eighth Doctor, temporal hijinks saw her travelling with the Sixth Doctor (and then removing his memory of her at the end to prevent paradoxes). You could also chalk it up to the Eighth Doctor referencing his proclivity towards losing his memory for some reason or another.
Nyssa was yet another of the Fifth Doctor's companions (I think the only one of the TV set that I haven't mentioned is Turlough…). She was another alien genius, though unlike Adric, her talents were fairly consistent and actually useful in the average story, to the point where she was able to fly the TARDIS.
The Sixth Doctor is an acquired taste, especially if you're coming in from the echo chamber side of the fandom, where people just regurgitate the negative things they've heard without actually watching the thing (cough cough a lot of Moffat/Chibnall haters).
I'm not going to make you acquire said taste, but if you're interested - skip the Twin Dilemma. Just… skip it. Literally 90% of everything everyone ever claimed makes Six unsalvageable is limited to that story. Everything else for Six's TV run is good, the DWM comic reprints by Panini are decent, and the Big Finish audios are where Six really got the chance to shine. Colin Baker is an excellent actor in both ability and attitude, personal opinions of his relative attractiveness during the 1980's aside.
Replaced The Cat Who series references with Cats The Musical/Old Possum's Book Of Practical Cats just for ease of recognition. The parade of cat puns that came after that? Mostly just me having fun.
The plastic bag rug is a real thing. My grandma has one in the basement I use as a sort of bath mat.
Uuuh, I don't know how deep all of you are into Doctor Who, but I think the whole 'If the Doctor meets another version of himself, the younger one forgets all about it (or at least most of it) until they complete the meeting from the other end' thing is fairly well known. The technical term is the Blinovitch Limitation Effect, but fuck if you can spell that off the top of your head.
So now you know.