I did it. I finally posted the side story post that I said I was going to post back in November of 2020. There obviously will be more to come. Some of them will be about this length, others will be shorter. A couple might be longer. These little drabbles are mostly me having a bit of fun, and posting what are essentially interludes that I haven't found a right place for, and at my current update pace, I might not for a while.

The narration here isn't as intermingled with One's inner monologue as Marion's inner monologue is with Celery Proper.

If I had to pinpoint when this took place, I'd say like, some point after the Crusades, but before the Chase. If that timeline seems a little screwy, I can live with that.


Marion Henson was fairly trustworthy.

You just had to get past the fact that she lied as easily as she breathed.

She had a wallet with a bit of psychic paper. She claimed that she'd gotten it as a surprise from a friend, but had a feeling that she wasn't telling the entire truth.

And that paper got plenty of use because the moment that she decided that pretending to be an inspector or an officer or a detective or guard or would be simpler or easier than being honest about who she was. Then she'd smile or frown or look disappointed or bored or angry or she felt worked best for whatever lie she wanted to tell and did her best to drag the four of them into her charades in whichever way she thought would be easiest for them. Those lies were more subtle, but sometimes they'd be far more blatant.

Like the way she repeatedly claimed to be a human from Earth 21st-century Earth.

He understands her not telling Ian or Barbara or Vicki that she's a Time Lord. He hasn't told them either. It's not their business. And as far as the two school teachers are aware, the Doctor and Susan were just from the future and not from Earth.

Marion meanwhile, claimed to be from the Earth and Ian and Barbara's future and Vicki's past. That was fine. If she wanted to lie to humans, that was her business.

But while lying to humans was one thing, lying to fellow Time Lords was something different entirely

And her lies were blatant too. It was almost insulting. He'd seen her weave together an identity and a story and speak so calmly and convincingly that if he didn't know better, he'd have to believe her.

And yet when it came to him she simply said. "I'm Human". That's it. Not even an attempt at an explanation as to why she was so strong other than a joke about eating her veggies nor an explanation about her miraculous survival except for a joke about an orange cat that death was otherwise occupied with and another joke about divorce.

She put so little effort into appearing human, despite the fact that she was quite undeniably a renegade Time Lord who, judging by the psychic paper, had either known a member of the Celestial Intelligence Agency enough to be given it assuming she was telling the truth, had been a member of the Celestial Intelligence Agency, or had stolen from the Celestial Intelligence Agency and got away with it, should have made him concerned about having her near him or god forbid Susan.

But there are things about her that made it difficult for him to just write her off as a liar and a possible threat. Because while she's most certainly one, he's not as certain about the others.

Actions speak louder than words and her's practically screamed how much she cared about them.

The way she shoved herself between him and anything she thought might hurt him.

That time when Susan had sprained her ankle terribly, and she'd without hesitation, crouched down to carry the girl on her back, shifted her weight a little, and then walked with her like that as if she weighed nothing at all.

The way she threw herself between a deadly ray and Ian with no more thought than the amount of time it took to get from point A to point B.

That time he happened to look in the kitchen and found her talking to Vicki softly and pouring them both a hot mug of something, and sitting across from the young girl and cheering her up after what must've been an awful dream.

And, while he hadn't gotten to see it himself, Ian and Barbara had told him about the look on her face when she saw El Akir. The flash of rage in her eyes. Her face looked furious, then blank, and then cheerful. And then she "jokingly" asked Barbara if she wanted him dead, and the fact that Barbara had told him that with the expression that had been on the woman's face when she had first seen the man, she wasn't so sure that it would have kept being a joke if Barabara had said yes or if Haroun ed-Din hadn't killed him himself. And she wasn't sure if Marion knew either.

As he thought, he wandered into the console room to find that the doors were wide open and looking out into a nebula. A single leg dangled from where its owner sat atop the TARDIS and swayed back and forth lazily.

"Marian?" he called, "Marian? Is that you up there?"

He knew that that wasn't her name the same way he knew that Ian's last name was in fact, Chesterton.

He still called her that regardless.

The leg disappeared and was replaced by a woman's head peeking down at him. The tight, light, and dark brown cults framing her face seemed to defy gravity as her hair retained its shape.

"I don't know anyone named Marian," she said simply, "I know a Marion? Is that who you're asking about? She's me. And yes. It's me up here. I'm looking up at the stars. You've got a wonderful view from up here."

"You must get down from there my girl. It's unsafe!"

"Unsafe?" the woman scoffed, "Haven't you read the- no. No of course you haven't."

"What haven't I read?"

"The TARDIS's manual."

"What would I need to read that? I can fly this ship just fine with i- without it."

"Mmm hmmm. Quick question. Why are Ian and Barbara here instead of 1960s Great Britain?" She tapped the side of her cheek as if in thought.

"I didn't see you making any attempts!"

"You get ansty whenever I touch the console."

"Do you even know how to drive a Type-40 TARDIS?"

"I know how to listen to Honey when she tells me to press buttons and flip switches."

"And that my dear, is why I don't let you pilot my TARDIS. Now, what was it you were saying about the manual? What was in it that's so important for me to know."

"Honey's got a barrier around her. As long as you don't start traveling without me, it's fine. In fact, come up here."

The head disappeared and in its place was an outstretched hand.

"I'll pull you up!" Her voice called down. "Come on!"

He couldn't trust her to be honest with him, but he figured that she could be trusted well enough to mean it when she said that it was fine and that she didn't want to hurt him.

Something told him that if she wanted him dead, he would be dead already. She had had more than enough chances to kill him, and more than enough chances to let him die without getting his hands dirty. And he'd seen the dark look that crossed her eyes for a moment when a man had threatened him directly. The way her fists clenched and her eyes narrowed and the way her posture shifted like she was one moment or one request away from knocking the man to the ground.

No, she wasn't a danger to him. It was almost like she'd assigned herself personally in charge of the protection of him and everyone who traveled with him. He could at least trust that much.

He took the outstretched hand and within moments, he was off his feet. Marion had a sort of effortless strength that he knew from experience was only somewhat because of the low gravity outside of the TARDIS.

She pulled him towards her, and scooted to the side, to make room for him.

Her loose drawstring pants, oversized shirt, mismatched socks, and the way that her hair looked wilder than he was used to suggested that she had clearly just been asleep. One leg dangled down, the one he had seen, the other one had a knee raised and a lens with grid marks on it.

In her lap, was a notebook with black pages, and a similar grid, and stars had been drawn on it with white colored pencil. Doodles had been done between them as if she had been trying to invent constellations of her own. The woman took the pencil from where it had been clenched in her teeth to leave her hands free enough to grab him.

"Have a seat!" She said cheerfully. She closed one eye and looked through the lens. She scribbled in another Star.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Charting the stars. Or at least trying to. Honestly, it's less charting and more doodling at this point, but it's you know, relaxing. And I needed to do SOMETHING."

"Why?"

"I-" Marion cut herself off. She did that a lot.

Like when she had slipped up, referred to him as a young, and outed herself as something other than human.

"Sometimes," Marion said carefully. She tapped the pencil rhythmically against her thigh. "My brain gets silly, and I need to do something with my hands to calm myself down. Normally, I bake, but, well, Vicki was in the kitchen, and well, I really don't want to be around her right now."

"What's wrong with Vick? Did she do something?"

"No, no, no. It's just-. Well. She's a kid. Kids don't need to see adults kneading bread dough and dissociating. At best, she'd be uncomfortable, and at worst she'd try to help. And that CAN'T be her responsibility. Or something she even THINKS ought to be a responsibility."

"And you think my dear girl, you think it would be something better suited for me?"

"What?" Marion shook her head, "I'd never ask you for that. Different reasons than for Vicki, but I'd never. No, I called you up because I was feeling better and the view from here is gorgeous and I thought you might like it, and I wanted to- I wanted to talk to you-" Marion started to speak faster. "I mean, not to you specifically obviously. I would have invited Ian and Barabara if they had come by. And Vicki. Oh. Vicki would love this view. She was telling me about how much she loved looking at the stars, but she couldn't see many from New London. But she couldn't see many at Dido either because of the atmosphere. So I guess if she had wandered in, it would be nice for her to see. Not that you're, you know, not great or that you're my second choice or anything. Or third? Or fourth?"

Marion tapped against her thigh faster and faster as she spoke. As if something was causing a fount of nervous energy that she was having difficulty releasing. She backtracked through her sentences and ideas. It was as if she had gotten the time jumbled up, and didn't know how to say things in the order she wanted to say it.

"Or my first choice. Or-I'm my foot's in my mouth. I mean you're all about equal. I promise. It's just. You know. I wanted to talk to someone. And that someone didn't need to be you, I mean I'm glad it's you. I mean, not glad. I mean not not glad. I mean,"

Marion groaned low in her throat.

He laughed lightly.

"Take your time my dear."

'I think if I don't get dragged away, as soon as I'm done up here I'm going right back to bed. My brain isn't braining right now. What was I saying?"

'You were saying how not not glad you were that it was I you were talking to."

"Right. I just wanted someone to talk to. Because talking to people, people who don't have to be you. Helps. When I've gotten myself through the worst of it."

"Ah- and how does it help? Talking with someone who doesn't necessarily have to be me."

Marion winced. She opened her mouth, she closed it again. The pencil in her hand danced between her fingers. He expected her to say she didn't want to answer that or change the subject. But then, instead, she spoke.

"It's nice to be reminded that you're alive." She took a deep breath.

The Doctor hadn't considered that. Although now that he was thinking about it, he should have. He'd seen her experience injuries that should have killed her, and yet he'd never seen her face change.

He had heard once, of a special technique where with proper timing, a Time Lord could use up less regeneration energy, and heal their injuries without changing their face. And he supposed that it must be true since she was there in front of him.

And he knew that part of the regeneration process involved dissociation and amnesia so as to help distance the person mentally from what was no doubt a traumatic event.

The Doctor had seen Marion get stabbed and shot and blown up and fall from great heights but had seen no signs of the regeneration-induced dissociative amnesia that violent and traumatic deaths were supposed to induce.

He'd be surprised if that sort of thing didn't come with horrific

He could understand why she was so resistant to change. He was four and a half centuries old. He knew it was only a matter of time before this body ran thin and he would have to choose between remaining as he was or changing into someone new. He was somewhat proud of himself for managing to have maintained his first face to old age.

She was younger than him most certainly, but he was equally as certain that she had to be older than Susan. He'd guess around 250 at the most. Likely younger. He figured that she was on her second face. She had a single heart, but that happened sometimes. She must've left Gallifrey, regenerated, and tried to keep a low profile. He couldn't very well access the data on Renegades from his ship, but if he could figure out what her first face had looked like, perhaps he'd find a match somewhere.

With as much open meddling as she did, she would've been caught if she looked the same as when she had first left Gallifrey and whatever technique she was using to heal herself and keep her face, he highly doubted that she'd gotten it right on the first try.

"Anyway." Marion continued, "Let's not talk about that right now. Let's talk about that," Marion waved around.

"The stars?"

"Yup, the Stars. Love them. I've liked them since- since I was a kid. I just suddenly got obsessed with them in middle school. A lot of kids get obsessed with things in middle school. It's a universal- well. Actually, I don't know if it's universal. It's a thing on Earth for human children to just get really into a thing for a few years as a tween. Maybe it's a horror game franchise, maybe it's a book series, maybe it's World War II, or Greek mythology, or Warrior Cats? For me the thing I suddenly got obsessed with was stars. I just couldn't know enough about them. And also Greek myths a little bit on account of how many constellations are based on the stars."

She was rambling again. He didn't hate her rambling. But he noticed that she did it a lot when she was saying or thinking something that made her feel the need to fidget or move. Like she was speaking less to communicate and more to get out energy.

But he liked it, because sometimes it gave him hints into who she really was. Because even though she was careful not to slip up and admit to being not human, the parts that didn't contribute to the lie showed an insight into who this odd Time Lady was.

For example, once I looked past the obviously false parts of her story, he knew that she had a long-term interest in constellations as seen from Earth and their basis in the folklore of Ancient Greece. And also, that she had taken the time to do research into human adolescents to ensure that her backstory sounded believable.

"What did you like about the stars?"

"I liked the stories. And I liked the way that people would look up at the stars and connect the dots and create pictures and stories. And I just always thought that the way they peppered the night sky was gorgeous. And the way that stars are where the elements come from. I just think that they're so cool! I considered studying them in college, you know, but there's more to being an astrophysicist than knowing about stars and how they work. And I wasn't the greatest at the math part of physics."

That suggested strongly against the Scendeleans.

"What did you end up studying instead? History?" he asked. She was talking about her time at the Academy (even if she called it University or schooling, or whatever would be appropriate for an American human of the age and in the time period she claimed to be in but she was still talking about the Academy) and knowing what chapter she had been in could help narrow down who she really was. At least so that he could get an idea of how much trouble she was in with the Time Lords Council and if there were places he needed to avoid bringing her to.

"Architecture."

"Architecture?" he asked.

"Yeah. I liked art." Marion nodded, "And I liked building things out of paper and cardboard and stuff. Seemed like the perfect fit. You know, a lot of ancient buildings were designed to line up with the stars in a certain way at certain important times of the year. I thought that was interesting."

"Did you end up liking the class?"

"Yes!"

"Fascinating," the Doctor said.

'Patrexian' The Doctor thought 'That must have been what chapter she'd been in.' That was the chapter that artists tended to gravitate to. And it would explain the precognition as well far better than that extended metaphor she'd given involving some earth movie Christmas and angels and bells.

The two of them sat on top of the TARDIS looking out at the sky in silence.

The Doctor didn't believe that Marion was human. And as long as she insisted that she was, he knew that he couldn't trust her completely to not lie to him. But trust went both ways. He wondered if the issue was that she didn't trust him.

Once, when Ian and Barabara had remained inside resting and so it had just been the three of them, he'd offhandedly mentioned spotting someone he thought might be from the Celestial Intelligence Agency just to see how she might react to it.

Her smile had dropped. Her face grew panicked. And then he'd grabbed him and Susan and all but shoved them into the TARDIS and started randomly pressing buttons and switches and didn't seem to breathe again until they were far away from the planet.

She'd seemed so relieved when he'd revealed that he hadn't been telling the truth that he almost didn't notice the flash of anger and hurt.

But almost wasn't quite enough. He hadn't tried testing her that way again.

At the very least, he learned that she was either running from them or at the very least, didn't want to stop running from them.

She claimed that they had hurt a friend of hers and refused to say anything further. With the way she reacted, he wondered if the friend existed at all.

He'd seen her lie, and lie comfortably, but horror and fear weren't emotions he'd seen her fake. It made him wonder what exactly the circumstances that led to her first regeneration had been.

He hoped that that death at least wasn't one she had to remember.

In the far distance, a meteor flew past, trailing a cloud of light and smoke.


BTS: So this ficlet references what Three said when he said that up until a certain point he was under the impression that Marion was in fact a Time Lord, she was just claiming to be human for one reason or another and me walking through the Doctor's thought processes behind this. He's seen her lie pretty much flawlessly about being an Inspector of some sort who has a right to be where she is. So it's not a stretch to him that she would attempt to claim to be human.

Marion's a very very very very weird human, but by Time Lord standards, she's just very very weird.

One believes that she's more likely an odd Time Lord than an odd human as she claims, and the fact that he hasn't seen her slip up in this lie outside of that time he referred to him as "young" despite him not looking young at all by human standards doesn't really mean much to him because, again, he knows she's a good liar.

But actions speak louder than words, and he's seen how protective she is of him and his companions. And the way she throws herself into danger for them seemingly without a second thought.

He trusts her actions more than her words if that makes sense.

This drabble is fun because I got to do the thing with Marion's dialogue where she rambles, and words things in a certain way that they are the truth, but she knows that she's being misleading and show the way she's constantly moving and fidgeting but from the outside. And also the fact that even One notices the way Marion rambles for more or less the same reason as she taps her leg or tugs her hair.

Barring anything unforeseen, Chapter 61 will be out in a week.

P.S. There's a misdirection via word choice in their conversation that I've very proud of.