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This would be the third of these I’ve done. But it’s…not a happy occasion. Not really.
It’s…been an awesome year. Really it has. But there’s some extremely bad news, from this year too. A bit…cruel, I’d say.
Elizabeth Sladen and Nicholas Courtney have been taken from us. Well, much earlier this year, actually. I kept thinking “I have to make a tribute fanfiction” but kept making excuses. I wasn’t ready yet, I didn’t have any inspiration, etc, etc.
Such beautiful, wonderful people. Cancer was too cruel. They should’ve died saving the world, or…something. Here’s my perception of them: good natured, almost always cheerful, fun, motivated, caring, professional…too many good adjectives that should belong here but won’t fit. And they barely looked like they aged. Barely. The impression was that time couldn’t touch them. Well…it has, now.
Well, enough of excuses, and time to break out the fanfiction. I will, probably write some awesome stuff eventually, where Sarah Jane is still alive and saving the world, where the Brig is still helping UNIT be the best, not the stupidest, that it can be. But before that…they deserve a goodbye. I’ll do my best, but for once I doubt my abilities to really give them the sendoff they deserve. (Well, I do that a lot, but…most of my writing isn’t dedicated. And they’re such wonderful people, and I’m not professional…but hey, they deserve something.)
Note: Luckily the Watari actor appears to be still alive. This had better not change or I may blame myself. (Strange as it sounds, my writing seems to influence the environment around me…sometimes.)
Anyway, this fanfiction is dedicated to Elizabeth Sladen (Sarah Jane Smith) and Nicholas Courtney (the Brigadier Alastair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart). You shall be missed. Not least of all by the Doctor. All of them.
I’m not sure what the title was. I came up with something, but it slipped out of my head. And, although it would fit the earlier ‘naming patterns’, it will not be Eleven and L. Because it’s not about them, not really.
…hmm, Rose and Amy are trouble-causers in my fics. Will keep that in mind (and a closer eye on them…sort of…except there are some things I really don’t wanna see).
Probably PG-13 (like some of my other stuff, there’s implied stuff, but nothing that happens on screen, because that’s not the way I work.)
River does not appear in this work. It’s not exactly River-bashing, but she just…doesn’t show up. Sorry for those who really love her, but there’s enough Eleven fics with River in them, and I wanted to try for something different. Also, if she DID show up, there WOULD be River-bashing. It’s inevitable. I dislike/hate her, depending on when I see her. She just drives me crazy. Same as Professor Bernice Summerfield (I don’t know what it is about her; I don’t HATE her) and Iris Wildthyme (although now that she’s probably a crazy bipedal version of the TARDIS, I don’t mind her as much). So, to reiterate: You do not want River to show up in my works, as much as you may love River, because if she did I would write her in a way that would drive YOU crazy. To ensure everyone keeps a firm grip on their sanity, she takes the role of Not Appearing In This Fic. There is Captain Jack, though. Does that make you feel better?
If there are characters you don't recognize, they're probably my own Alternate Dimensional Doctors (shameless, aren't I?) or Death Note characters. Yes, this is a crossover fic. The more the merrier, right? Plus, they should all acknowledge how awesome Sarah Jane and the Brig were...right?
Fandom: Doctor Who/Death Note
Rating: Teen
DISCLAIMER: If there are characters you don't recognize, don't worry. I'm not sure I recognize them either, 4 years in.
Summary: This is one big party tribute to Nicholas Courtney (Brigadier Alastair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart) and Elizabeth Sladen (Sarah Jane Smith). So there's people from all Doctor Who eras, there's the Death Note characters, and there's even some Other Universe Doctors that just pop in. The original title was the one in parenthesis, but I don't think it's all that accurate, so. (Which is mentioned in my original author's note, so ha! What was that about staying true to the artist's vision??)
Rory’s first thought was that the graveyard didn’t really need the rain. Nothing was growing there that needed the moisture, and it was creepy enough without it.
“Rory?” his wife asked in a low tone, watching the Doctor, who was moving at less than half his usual speed, hunting among the headstones with a seriousness that was definitely out of character. “The Doctor is behaving oddly, isn’t he?”
He gave her a confused and slightly scared look, not sure what she wanted to hear. If the wrong answer was given to Amelia Pond, bad things would happen. He was sure of it. He began to shrug. “I don’t really know him as well as you do.”
As expected, she punched him in the arm. “Don’t give me that. You’ve known him for a while now too. He’s just not…happy…enough, is he?”
“Well…he’s not rushing all over the place and being…confusing….” Rory admitted.
“Exactly! So, if something’s wrong…do we ask him? Or are we in a weird dream-thing again?” He hoped not. But the look in Amy’s eyes was worrying him. He knew that look. That meant that unless something happened soon, she was going to run off and cause trouble. Or find it. Either way, it meant he’d be dragged along, and the Doctor would probably have to come save them. Which was a problem, because he wasn’t very fond of that idea.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t come up with any safe alternatives. Alternatives that would stop Amy. She’d made up her mind that something was wrong and they had to fix it, so she wouldn’t take a ‘let’s wait until he’s done and then ask him when he might be in a more sharing mood’ suggestion very well. No matter how much he thought it was the best course of action.
The best he could come up with was “Ummm….”
The next thing he knew, Amy was marching determinedly off through the trees and the gravestones, and the best he could do was trail somewhat miserably after her, rubbing his arms to deal with the shivers of cold creeping through him.
He walked right into the back of Amy as she stopped still and craned his neck over her shoulder to look at why she’d stopped. When he did, he wished he hadn’t.
The bloke was so strange, he just had to be an alien. Like the Doctor.
He was crouching on his bare feet, looking at one of the gravestones, which may or may not have had the name Quillsh Wammy on it, depending on whether or not Rory was seeing things, fixedly. The name was very weird, after all. One thumbnail rested in his mouth. He was really, really pale, black hair sticking up in a strange spiky swoop. A long sleeved white shirt and baggy jeans didn’t seem enough to protect him from the cold of the rain, but he didn’t seem to be bothered. Dark, almost black eyes turned to look at them, and blinked once.
“Ummm, sorry…we were just leaving now. Sorry to bother you,” Mr. Pond barely found the voice to say.
Amy stepped forward confidently. “Hello. Who are you?”
The hint of what might have been a smile quirked at the man’s lips. “You can call me Ryuzaki.” The voice was smooth, almost bored or emotionless.
“And…are you an alien?” she again asked boldly.
Rory whispered in her ear, “Amy, I’m not sure you should just go out and ask stuff like that…what if he’s not…friendly?” The Scottish woman waved him off, half annoyed. She looked back at him and mouthed ‘Doc-tor’ at him, and he did his best not to roll his eyes. If they needed him, he might be too far to help.
The man grew more serious. If they could make that distinction, that is. Mostly, the emotion just…disappeared out of the face. “No. I’m human.”
“How do you know we’re human?” Mr. Pond asked.
The hint of a smile came back. “Interesting.” He nibbled some more on his thumb, then thought for a moment and fished around in his pocket. With thumb and forefinger, he lifted a couple packets of…something…out, licking his lips. Rory took a couple of steps back.
He looked up, noticing the movement, and appeared somewhat startled, unblinking. “It’s…all right. Just candy. I find sugar calming. It also helps me think. Besides, I realized that it would be terrible of me not to offer any.”
“Sugar’s bad for your health.” That was an automatic nurse’s reaction. Strictly speaking, Rory didn’t have anything against sugar. In fact, he loved a good ice cream, pudding, chocolate. But since the bloke looked like an insomniac, he reckoned some sort of health warning was a good idea.
This time, the bloke genuinely smiled. Childish. He looked much less threatening this way. “I have been told that before. My health is fine, at least from what I have been told. I suppose the rules that apply to most people do not apply to me. At least, where my physical condition is concerned.”
“Um…don’t take this wrong, but you look terrible.” He was getting a bit bolder, because nothing had happened yet.
The stranger snorted this time, highly amused. “My appearance apparently does not coincide with my well being. At least, so I am told. Would either of you like one?”
Amy grinned. “Sure, I’d like one, yeah.”
Rory remembered his fright and clutched at her arm. “Amelia, didn’t your parents ever warn you about taking things from strangers?”
‘Ryuzaki’ sighed. “True. Forgive me; it is somewhat irresponsible for me to offer, when you hardly know me. I spend my life trying to prevent this sort of thing. Although my intentions are not dangerous, you have very little ability to know this from the evidence you have gathered so far.”
O-kay, that was in no way weird.
The Doctor tried not to cry. He’d found the right gravestones. He’d been told they had been moved here. That didn’t make the fact that they were dead any less painful.
Yes, okay, they’d been dead a while. Yes, he was a time traveler, so he could always go back to a point before they were dead to see them again.
That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Physically. His hearts ached in his chest. He tried to smile at them. “Hello. Kinda neglectful of me, isn’t it? To only be here…now?” He shuffled his feet, feeling so guilty. He’d promised to come back, to visit, to say hi to two of his best friends he’d ever made on that old planet Earth, but…stuff kept coming up, and he had to deal with that stuff. Who else would do it if not for him? “I…I’m really bad at goodbyes. Both of you probably remember that. So, I guess I’ll say…hello, instead.” His feet moved without his conscious awareness, as he was suddenly standing in front of the headstones without a real clue of how he’d gotten there. One hand tentatively reached out and stroked the headstones, and somehow the stone felt warm, almost flesh-like. He could imagine this is what it would be like hugging Sarah Jane again, or shaking the Brigadier’s hand. That thought makes him bite his lip, shoulders shaking for a couple moments before he gets himself back under control.
“I’d like to believe you’re not dead. Either of you. That this is some sort of trick, just like the Claw Shansheeth of the Fifteenth Funeral Fleet’s plot, but…I know in my hearts that it’s not. You’re both dead. I mean, this long in the future, yeah, humans don’t live that long. But…” he sighed, shoulders slumping again, “…I know it’s true. Both of you. So much potential, and you died altogether too soon. Luke.” He suddenly remembered the poor boy, the adopted son. “He’s not going to take this well. Not,” he suddenly added, laughing through his tears, “…that I’d say I am, really, either. I’ll go to your funeral, both of you. You deserve that. But…I could barely get myself to come here. Amy and Rory…that’s the couple traveling with me at the moment…they thought we were just exploring, and we just happened on the graveyard. I just…how can I tell them? I don’t want to tell them. I want them to meet the two of you, not hear about the fact that you’re…dead.” His voice wavered, just a little.
He took one shuddering breath, then another, rain making him absolutely bedraggled. Raggedy Doctor indeed. The hint of a smile appeared on his face, but he was definitely crying now, and making no move to wipe the tears away. “Thank you. Thank you both. You both were…extraordinary. And I was just…so blessed. To know the both of you, for however short a time. I didn’t deserve to have friends like you. Not really. But you two…” He was beaming now, the rain running down the trailing flop of hair into his eyes, but he didn’t care. “…You two were so generous. Such good hearts. Brigadier,” he turned toward one stone, addressing it as if that were his old friend, standing in front of him, “…hullo. I’m not sure you’d recognize me. Well, no…last time you recognized me, just because there was no one else it could be. Both of you, actually,” he continued thoughtfully, “…recognized me pretty quickly. I suppose that just shows how much the two of you really knew about me. I mean…neither of you knew my history, not really, but you knew a bit about the Time Lords. I never told you about Gallifrey, though. How beautiful it was. And there were times I wanted to go home, but at the same time I didn’t. At the same time, though…” He trailed off, staring into the air. How could he not have noticed this, with how clever he was, and how obvious it was? One big great idiot, that was him. “…All the same, I valued your friendship more than I ever cared about my past. And I can’t go back, not anymore.” To tell them, to move on. This is what matters, here and now. A deep breath to steady himself once more. “Gallifrey’s gone. Destroyed in a war. I’d tell you about it, but I don’t really like talking about it, or even thinking about it. But you know what? It doesn’t even matter, not anymore. I don’t have a home now, but that’s not a problem, because I just figured out my home is here, now. On Earth. With my friends. I mourned so long for my loss, I forgot about anyone else’s. And for being a selfish idiot, I apologize.”
He could half imagine them laughing at him, telling him he was being silly, because they cared for him too, no matter how silly that was. They were his friends, so it was sort of their job, to care past the point of stupidity. He laughed and agreed with them silently.
“What I mean to say, is that, well…” The words started to desert him, something that hadn’t happened in a long while. He relied so heavily on words, on the magic they wrought in the air. For a while, he stopped thinking and just listened to the rain, feeling it drip through to thoroughly drench him, just cried and laughed like an idiot, letting his emotion out in a long rush, a flood in the ocean.
Finally, he began to speak again, wiping his face with a dripping sleeve that didn’t help in the least. “Thank you,” he eventually managed, realizing that that’s what he’d always meant to say. Not goodbye, not hello. He’d come to their graves to show his gratitude toward them, towards such wonderful people. “Thank you for sharing the wonders of the universe, and of Earth, with me. Thank you for putting up with silly old me. Thank you for the time we shared, for the times our paths intertwined, and for taking care of things when I couldn’t. Because, as brilliant as you were with me, I’m betting you were a hundred, no, probably more like a thousand times more amazing when I wasn’t there.”
He sat down, stretching out his legs, and began to speak. He knew he’d probably get hoarse eventually, but he told the Brig and Sarah Jane stories. Stories that they’d taken part in, stories that they hadn’t. He felt the pain and loss begin to ease out of him, and, if he wasn’t imagining things, he felt like he wasn’t alone. That they really were listening, from wherever they were. How he’d felt, and all the things he would have liked to say, but didn’t. They all poured out of him, but it didn’t feel like he was being drained, but rather filled up, of a sort of bittersweet happiness that reminded him how beautiful the universe was, and how much the Brigadier Alastair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart and Sarah Jane Smith were a part of that, and just how much more amazing the universe had been with the two of them. His friends.
After about an hour and a half, Rory had begun to suspect that the Doctor was never going to come back out to find them. In fact, he had been debating suggesting that they go find him, to make sure he hadn’t been eaten by some graveyard monster or something. He had also come to the conclusion that ‘Ryuzaki’ wasn’t half as bad as he’d thought at first. The candy had been extraordinary. Amy had finally gotten him to try it, but then, she could get him to agree to anything, really. No matter how dangerous it probably was. They had relocated to a small home nearby after an hour and a half to get out of the rain. Ryuzaki had insisted on hot cocoa, which was just about as impressively delicious as the candy had been. Rory supposed that when one had a sweet tooth, as this bloke obviously had (nothing but sugar in the cupboards, and a bit of fruit in the fridge) and had the whole of the universe to find the best delectables, having the best in the way of sugar-filled products didn’t altogether surprise him. Amy had, eventually, mentioned the Doctor, and it turned out that Ryuzaki and the Doctor were old friends. The man had been a bit closed off, reluctant to speak, but they’d eventually gotten him to talk. The Doctor had helped him solve a few cases, prevent an intergalactic war and an assassination, and foiled several coups over the years. Apparently the odd-looking bloke was a regular detective. They’d admitted it sounded like the Doctor, especially when he’d gone into detail. Strangely, the Doctor appeared to have been in disguise or something, since Ryuzaki hadn’t recognized the description they’d given, at least of his physical appearance. Some of the mannerisms, too, had given him pause. Mostly, he repeated his observation of ‘interesting’, bit down on his thumbnail, or eaten more candy, sitting in the same weird posture as he’d done out in the graveyard on one of the soft armchairs he’d dragged out for them to sit in.
“So, why were you there?” Amy asked, curious, and he stiffened, hands turning even whiter as he hugged his legs.
“I would attempt to tell you that I was merely interested in the ancient architecture of this particular necropolis, but since I can be thirty-two percent certain that the Doctor used a similar excuse, I am guessing that particular story will not work on the two of you.” Mr. and Mrs. Pond exchanged surprised glances. Considering they’d been admiring the design of the entire city, it hadn’t been completely implausible. This guy must really know the Doctor, if he understood enough of the Time Lord’s mind to guess that. They couldn’t help but wonder where the percentage came from, though. “The truth is that a…friend of mine died.” An uncertain look on Ryuzaki’s face told them that he wasn’t altogether certain that he’d picked the correct noun in this case. “Watari. I was in the middle of a case at the time, so didn’t hear about it for a day or so. I attended the funeral, but didn’t really get a chance to say goodbye.” He didn’t include that if Watari had died, he was likely a target as well, so had to stay as unnoticed as possible at the funeral. The two here didn’t need to know about the circumstances. He’d been unsure if visiting, even a few years later, was a good idea itself, but since the Doctor was here, he assumed he was relatively safe…that is, there was a seventy-eight percent chance that although coming here may have been a bad idea, he was still likely to live through it. “I believe it is eighty-nine percent likely that the Doctor is here for similar reasons.”
Both of them looked shocked. Being a time traveler whose age was somewhere between nine hundred and a thousand or so, it was probably inevitable that a few of the people the Doctor had known over the years were dead. That being said, he’d never said anything about them. They’d never heard him talk about the death of a friend or a funeral. He didn’t seem the type to go to funerals, of course, but even so…
Amy stepped forward and hugged the slumped shape, which awkwardly hugged back. Rory felt a hint of jealousy before remembering that this was one of the weirdest people they had ever met, and she couldn’t be falling in love with him. Could she? He ignored the voice at the back of his brain that she’d fallen in love with the Doctor, who looked only slightly less weird.
“I miss him,” the voice managed, and now he seemed childish, young. Rory nodded awkwardly. This was one of the few reasons he was glad he wasn’t a doctor. Nurses weren’t obliged to try to comfort people. As much, anyway.
The already huge eyes widened even further, emphasizing the dark circles. “That reminds me…I found a letter in Watari’s things addressed to the Doctor.” He got up awkwardly from his chair and walked, hunched over, to the closet, where he began rummaging through things. “I would open it,” he tossed the words over his left shoulder without looking, as if thinking out loud, “…but that would feel as if I were betraying Watari. I…do not believe I could bring myself to do it.”
Finally, he brought out a letter, neatly addressed in a white envelope, and placed it on the table. The words ‘The Doctor’ were clearly written, but nothing else.
Rory nodded again. “Yep. That’s probably for the Doctor.” It wasn’t likely this Watari person would forget the rest of the name, if it had been intended for anyone else. A thought came to him, and he hesitated before voicing it. “Do…do you think we should go get him? So he can open this?”
Ryuzaki hesitated. Amy didn’t. “I’ll go do it. It’s been ages.” With that, she was already out the door.
“Actually, it has been several hours. But not ages.” Ryuzaki corrected the empty room, then sighed, cutting himself another slice of cake.
Mr. Pond didn’t know whether to laugh or not. So he took another sip of the cocoa instead.
Amy was surprised to hear the Doctor talking, out here in the rain. Actually, he sounded a bit hoarse. It sounded as if he had been talking ever since he’d wandered off. Something about a bloke named Rassilon and a place called the Death Zone. Kind of forbidding, actually.
“Doctor?” she asked, nervously. She had no real idea how he would react, but she hoped he’d get out of the rain. If Time Lords got colds like normal people, he was seriously in trouble.
He stopped mid-sentence. Then, to her relief, he answered. “Hullo, Amy.” He sounded…tired but happy. At least he wasn’t tense, or extremely serious, anymore.
“Would you happen to know someone named Ryuzaki by any chance?”
He laughed, the roughness of his voice even more obvious now. “Amazing. He manages to get everywhere, doesn’t he?”
Amy smiled at him. “He reminds me of you, a little. You’re invited for a cup of cocoa, and apparently there’s a letter for you.”
“That sounds interesting. I suppose I’ll talk to you later, then,” he addressed the headstones and got to his feet stiffly.
She couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “There aren’t stone-creatures, are there?”
“Not here, no,” he answered quietly, beginning to walk back with her as if he knew the way.
“Who was that, then?” she couldn’t help but ask, although she had the idea she probably wouldn’t get an answer.
He stretched, not paying much attention to his crackling bones. “Maybe you’ll meet them someday.” A bit short, but the hope of an answer was there, and that’s all she was really asking for.
He had given Ryuzaki a big hug upon seeing him, something that the bloke was only slightly more comfortable with.
“You have…changed…again,” the detective remarked quietly as he poured another cup of cocoa and began adding marshmallows. It took the Doctor’s hand to get him to stop at twenty four.
“Yes, I have. That’s time for you.” The bloke nodded again at the mysterious words, seemingly satisfied.
The Doctor got a lot quieter after reading the letter, staring into space and thinking, forgetting that the rest of them existed. Rory poked him to make sure he was still alive, and present. “Oh, right. Yes. I’ve got a surprise for all of you, but you should probably get ready.” He disappeared out into the street, presumably to the TARDIS.
Amy was already crossing the room to read the letter.
“Amy! You can’t do that!” Rory protested, but was silenced with a kiss. Quietly Ryuzaki crossed the room, so the raven-haired gentleman appeared as if by teleportation behind them.
“I would protest. But I will not inform him you looked at it…provided I am also allowed to look.” Among other things, he happened to be sneaky.
Between his wife and this guy, they could probably rule the world if they wanted to.
The letter was short and didn’t help all that much.
Dear Doctor,
If you are reading this letter, I am probably dead. I wanted to inform you of a curious incident.
Well before I first met young Ryuzaki, I was startled one evening to hear a wheezing sound. I was in the middle of tending to my food garden and developing plans for my newest invention in my head, when I looked up to find a blue box had parked on my lawn. On my flower garden, no less. At least it wasn’t the food garden, or I would have been much more upset.
You came out. This was far before I knew that you could change faces or travel through time. You were followed by a red-haired Scottish girl and a male nurse. And then a man whose appearance was very strange and is no doubt familiar to you stalked out, slouching as he did so, and hugged me desperately refusing to let go.
Luckily, you were able to explain to my satisfaction the circumstances. Time travelers from the future, and a young ward. You did not explain the reason for your visit, but nonetheless you will probably understand by now the reason why. If you do not, I am sure you will in time.
I also very much enjoyed the party, and I think everyone else did too. You are very thoughtful, Doctor.
Your (old/new) friend, Watari
“What does that mean?” Rory asked curiously after they had all finished reading.
"It is clear that Watari wished to remind us--or rather, the Doctor--of something that had happened in order to keep the timelines the same. What I am not sure of is what he is keeping from us. For instance, he does not outline in detail the party. Perhaps...perhaps he does not know the details, perhaps he merely wishes to let the Doctor have a free choice, rather than being forced to follow in the path that he may ultimately choose..." Detective indeed. His mind worked deceptively quickly, and much better than either of them would have thought at first glance.
"Sorry, what?" That wasn't a much clearer answer than the letter itself.
A half-smile met him as Ryuzaki picked up the letter in the same manner he always did. "Pay no attention to me. I am thinking out loud, and several of my theories may be completely untrue."
Unfortunately, he didn't get much of a chance to explain further as the Doctor blew back in through the open door like an unstoppable gale and rushed them all out the door.
They also didn't get much of a chance to ask questions once the Doctor had pushed them all in his enthusiasm into the TARDIS doors. That is, they asked, but didn't get an intelligible answer. He was in such a state of childish excitement that most of his answers, if they were indeed answers, made absolutely no sense. Ryuzaki didn't seem at all surprised to see the console room (and the difference in dimensions) so either he'd seen this before or he was very, very good at controlling his reactions. Or both. He seemed to be a bit amused by the Doctor's seemingly boundless energy.
Which wasn't at all fair, considering he'd been sitting on hard ground in a spooky graveyard in the cold rain talking to himself for hours. Amy made a note to ask him how he managed it. And ask Ryuzaki how he ate so many sweets and managed to stay thin.
In a whirlwind of words and confusion, they had arrived, and the doors opened dramatically. "Here we are!" the Doctor announced, grinning.
"Er...where?" Rory asked.
The Doctor seemed to deflate to half his size. "I thought you were listening," he stated, sounding put out.
Ryuzaki was definitely trying not to laugh now. "Not everyone can keep up with you, Doctor."
The Doctor tried and failed miserably not to look very flattered by that remark. "Tell you what, let's get out and see if anyone recognizes the place."
The Time Lord stepped out first, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Pond, and finally Ryuzaki, still slouching, followed them.
Rory was looking around, trying to figure out where they were. So he didn't notice when the ever-present thumb slipped out of the raven-haired man's mouth. He did, however, notice when he swept by the others to latch himself onto a middle aged English gentleman tending his garden, who looked a bit bewildered.
"Would the lot of you mind explaining how your...box...appeared on my garden, and who you all are?" he asked mildly, trying to decide what to do with the man wrapping himself around in an inescapable hug more belonging to a child.
“We’re time travelers. You’ll know us…well, me; I’m not sure you’ll see much of Amy or Rory after this—eventually. I’m an alien and can change my face.” Amy looked absolutely shocked at that. Actually, Rory did too, but he didn’t half believe what he was being told. “And that…that is L.” So Ryuzaki had been just a nickname. Or whatever. Alias…thing. “You’ll take in the small version of him very soon. But it’s been a while since he’s seen you, and he misses you.” At that, the Doctor was sent a sharp look, as if he knew more than was being said was going on. Amy had worked out that this was probably someone who was supposed to be dead…the Watari person, for instance. “So I thought the lot of us could show up at your door, ‘cause I’ve got something even bigger planned.” He didn’t tell any of them about that, but Rory supposed it was okay, as long as it turned out well. Well, and Amy was allowed in the planning process, or she’d bother people for it for months after. “May we have some tea?” he asked politely, sweeping into the man’s house before he had the chance to say no. Amy grinned sweetly at the man and followed; Rory sent a look of apology, and bemused, the man trailed behind, still with a human limpet clutched to him.
Eventually, they’d managed to calm Ryuzaki/L down and pry him off of the man, whose name did turn out to be Quillsh Wammy (L insisted on calling him Watari, but since he, too, insisted by going by a nickname, that wasn’t altogether too odd). It had taken a full cake baked by the middle-aged man and a chair right beside him to do so, however.
The Doctor had produced the letter, which Watari looked over with a small, curious smile on his face. Amy kept trying to read it, which struck Rory as strange until he realized that she was acting for the Doctor’s benefit, to ‘prove’ they hadn’t read it when they were probably not supposed to. Finally, after some questions and answers that neither of the Ponds understood, it seemed that Watari believed their story.
“What now?” he asked simply, moustache twitching a little as he took another sip of his tea (a little cream, and no sugar, unlike Ryuzaki, who, after everyone else had gotten as much sugar as they’d liked, subsequently dumped the rest of the pot in his).
The Time Lord beamed, exchanging glances with the others, who had absolutely no idea what was going on and could only send back a variety of confused or bewildered looks. He didn’t seem to mind in the least. “Now is the really clever part, if I do say so myself. I mean…I really do like this part.” He paused, for effect, and then began whispering in Watari’s ear.
He was in a good enough mood that he just winked at Amy when she glared at him for leaving them out. That wasn’t a good idea, not really, and the Doctor should have known that by now. Rory winced and convinced Amy that they could sneak off and explore…or whatever…
And if she was exceptionally aggressive, well, it’s just because she’s mad and because she knows exactly what he’s up to.
Amy was far less angry when the Doctor, L, and Watari found them half an hour later into their planning session. Watari gave them a knowing look, but the Doctor was happily oblivious. How someone as observant as him could be so blindingly unaware was a conundrum Rory didn’t understand and didn’t care to; he was just grateful for it.
Again they piled into the TARDIS with absolutely no idea where they’re going. And they kept landing, but only the Doctor got out. Amy, by this time, was getting aggravated again, but L assures her that the surprise will be worth the wait.
Considering that the Doctor barely pops out before getting back in and setting the coordinates again, though, they can’t exactly sneak off again. Anyway, Amy’s curiosity, by this point, is insatiable. So they amuse themselves by guessing what connects all the different destinations. Strangely enough, they don’t seem to have gotten off course—not once—since this whole plan started. It’s not easy to guess what connects all of the places. Ealing, London; the Sahari; the Tower of London; Brisbane, Australia; Rip xIIg; Distok; Mumbai, India; Geneva, Switzerland; Canary Wharf, London; Cambridge; the Italian countryside in 1003 BC; Pease Pottage, West Sussex; Yrtlmasx in the 34th century; New Winchester, New England, sometime past the 30th century (the time meter kept moving around and being generally confusing); Chiswick, London; Buckinghamshire; Colchester, Essex; Griffoth; the Moon…
After a while, Rory began to get frustrated. They’d been writing down all the destinations, but that didn’t seem to have helped. “I don’t see how any of these are connected!” Amy didn’t voice it, but he knew she was annoyed too.
Wordlessly, L stuck his sticky lollipop back in his mouth and leaned over to grab the pen from Mr. Pond’s hand. Barely touching the writing instrument as if it would bite him or give him some disease if he didn’t treat it very, very carefully, he wrote two words on their paper. ‘The Doctor.’ He didn’t bother to explain, instead going back to licking the candy.
They didn’t have much longer to ponder, as the Doctor flung open the doors one more time and yelled “Geronimo!” When no one came out with him, he craned his neck around, staring at them all uncomprehendingly. “Well, come on!” He waved them out.
They gasped. They were standing in a beautiful chamber…underwater. It was huge, and could possibly have swallowed the whole of London without working very hard. Little blue aliens with three trailing…tentacle things on their face were busy decorating the place, and seemed to especially love the shiny party strands they were flinging everywhere. One wall was a giant window, allowing a marvelous view of a landscape similar to Earth’s, if Earth had elephants with fins and gills and was completely underwater. The light from the star or whatever it was coming from didn’t seem to be filtered by the water at all. The place was filled. Party games, a projector, books, music, food…the only element the place was missing was people.
The Doctor was looking very pleased with himself and twirled on the spot, chuckling. “What d’ya think?” he asked, absolutely beaming.
“It needs party guests,” Rory answered bluntly. The Doctor’s expression turned astonished.
“Why do you think we were going out and giving invitations?” Rory and Amy finally figured it out, and made little ‘o’ motions with their mouths.
“They should be arriving shortly…ah, yes, they’re beginning to arrive!” The Doctor dashed to the other side of the room where a technological pad began to light up, and the first of the guests stepped out and hugged the Doctor.
“Hello, Doctor,” one of the children stated calmly, watching the woman—middle-aged, well preserved, still beautiful even, with her auburn hair cut around her shoulders and brown eyes filled with emotion, arms wrapped around the Doctor in greeting. She looked like a professional, honestly. He waved back.
A girl, and a dark-skinned boy, stepped off the pad, looking a bit uncomfortable. They were followed by a metallic dog waving its tail. “I don’t like that we weren’t told what’s going on…” the girl muttered to the other, who nodded. Amy strode up.
“Well, the Doctor didn’t really tell us what’s going on either. But if you like, I’ve spotted the food table.” As expected, the teenagers looked a bit excited at the prospect of food, so they all went off in that direction. Rory expected that they weren’t meant to begin eating yet, but Amy was bored, and at least it kept her occupied and out of trouble. The guy, Clyde, began explaining that the blue things were called Groske, and a bit about them, only to be told that he was smelly by one of them. He retorted, “Well, I suppose you don’t want my pizza, then, because it’d be smelly too, wouldn’t it?” The Groske immediately behaved, and they laughed.
Amy had, eventually, figured it out. Rory was somewhat disappointed that he hadn’t put the pieces together quicker than her, but he wasn’t altogether surprised. She’d always been faster than him. At least he could keep her safe, which was more than she could manage to do on her own, it seemed like. “They’re all people the Doctor knew. Previous companions.” Rory looked around at the room full of people and marveled. So he hadn’t been kidding about his age after all.
He eventually decided to go looking for the Doctor, but after he’d gotten lost for a while he’d forgotten why he’d gotten up in the first place. People in uniform were everywhere. More than a few aliens were around as well, cat-things and lizard-things and species he couldn’t even compare to anything, they were just so…weird. Still, he might as well keep going.
He bumped into a red-haired man with goggles and muttered apologies. A swift, shy smile and a muttered, “ ‘s okay” was all the reply he got. The attention barely flicked off his mobile, where he appeared to be playing some complicated game. He blinked, several times, upon seeing someone who looked very similar to that kid—striped shirt and everything—smoking across the room, but forgot about it upon seeing a familiar flop of hair.
He made his way to the Doctor and patted him on the shoulder. “Amy wanted to see you.” That was likely to be true.
The bloke turned around, and he got a bit of a shock.
For one thing, the Doctor didn’t look like the Raggedy Doctor. He was actually in a tux. Which he’d seen, once, at the wedding, but unless the Doctor had managed to slip into the TARDIS and change when no one was looking (which was completely possible, he admitted, considering the number of people in the room), he hadn’t been wearing it before. If possible, he looked even younger. His face was just as babyish as before, but something…about the eyes was different. And his bow tie wasn’t outrageous. At least he was still wearing a bow tie, or he’d be wondering whether this was really the Doctor.
For another thing, he was wearing a ring. On his left ring finger. Instantly, Rory began looking for River.
The Doctor grinned regretfully back at him. “Sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong bloke,” he apologized, and began to turn back to his conversation with the sharp scientist lady.
“You are the Doctor, aren’t you?” It didn’t hurt to check.
A half-wince met him. “Er….sort of. Different dimension. Strictly speaking, me ‘n Matt aren’t really supposed to be here, but it sounded like a laugh, so here we are. Shh.” That…didn’t really make sense.
The bloke sighed again, noticing his confusion (maybe he was a different person). “I’m the ADD Doctor. Er…that stands for Alternate Dimensional Duplicate. Luckily the wall between your world and ours is still permeable, or I’d get in big trouble from myself. Just call me James.”
Rory nodded in what he hoped was a sage way. “Have you seen the Doctor from this dimension?”
“Which one?” was James’ next confusing question before his face cleared. He’d figured out the answer on his own, which was good of him, because Mr. Pond wasn’t sure he’d be able to figure out what he was supposed to say. Were there other ADDs running around here? “Oh, you probably mean the one that looks like me, don’t you, because you mistook me for him? He was…” the Time Lord frowned, looking up and casting his gaze about the room before smiling and pointing a thin, bony finger in the right direction. Rory followed the finger to find the Doctor he’d known, in all his Raggedy Doctor glory, being coaxed into karaoke by a crowd of people.
“Okay, good. Thanks,” he stated awkwardly.
The grin was shy but every bit as sunshine as the Doctor’s. “You’re very welcome, Rory Williams.” Rory thought about correcting him to ‘Pond’, but decided to go find the ‘real’ Doctor instead.
He hadn’t gotten to the real Doctor before he saw the Dalek. He’d only ever seen it once, in the British Museum with the Pandorica. It had a strange blueish patterned paint job, but it was still a Dalek.
Not a few shrieks, howls, and other reactions of surprise and anger/fear joined his own reaction. The Tux Doctor ran up, hands held up in a ‘don’t do anything stupid’ gesture. “Don’t. Everybody, don’t! This isn’t a Dalek!”
The Real Doctor had come up, and was now eyeing the Tux Doctor with a skeptical glance. “What is it, then?”
Tux Doctor took a deep breath. “It’s a Kaled Monk. Or a Monk of Mercy. Or a Monk of Peace. In other words, they have lots of names.”
“You can’t trust the Daleks! They’d exterminate you as soon as look at you! They’re lying through their speaker grilles!” A man with a northern accent in a leather jacket glared at the…whatever it was, and the Tux Doctor at the same time.
Another bloke, a man with spiky hair akin to L’s except a brown and a long, brown coat and skinny suit jacket, ran up, digging what looked kinda like the sonic screwdriver out of his jacket, except it was smaller and blue.
“All hail the Doc-tor! All hail the Doc-tor! The De-stroy-er of Evil, the Pro-tec-tor of All that is Good!” The cry was taken up by others across the room.
The Doctor blinked several times. “What…what’s going on? I don’t…I don’t understand.”
“They’re renowned. Where I come from. They’re the result of my meddling. Well, one of me anyway. Snuck into Davros’ laboratory on Skaro and put some human and Time Lord DNA into them. Smuggled ‘em out. They hate their origins, and they’ve done everything in their power to stop Dalek plots wherever they can. I thought they’d make great security, considering, well, I know me, and something’s bound to go wrong, hence the need for security. Okay, yes, they’re Monks of Peace, but more…preserving or protecting the peace, really.” The Tux Doctor blurted the whole speech without pausing for breath.
“You’re positive,” the Doctor stated quietly, staring into his duplicate’s eyes, and the Tux Doctor quickly nodded and looked down.
“They were supposed to stay outside. No one was even supposed to know they were here,” he stated, scuffing his boot in an embarrassed fashion.
“We could not pass up the opp-or-tun-ity to thank all of the Doc-tors for their eff-orts. We would sa-lute you, if Ka-led Monks could sa-lute.” A chuffing, metallic sound came from the others. Laughter?
“There’s something you don’t see very often!” a rich voice yelled through the crowd, and Rory looked over to see a bloke in a ridiculously long scarf, sweater, and hat grinning like a lunatic. That smile was even weirder than the Doctor’s, he reflected.
“Okay, fine. But you’re absolutely certain about this? I don’t want UNIT after me for wrecking their private Trillohin base.” Of course, the Doctor was more worried about everyone else, but he wasn’t about to say it.
Tux Doctor got even more uncomfortable, blushing with all those eyes looking at him. “Absolutely.”
“I should probably be mad at you for even being here, but…I’ll ignore it for now.” The Doctor winked, and Tux Doctor grinned in delight, quickly disappearing into the crowd in the direction of the shy redhead he’d bumped into earlier. The Kaled Monks disappeared in several flashes of light—probably either invisible or teleporting elsewhere.
The Doctor danced until he could barely stand, then fell asleep next to a litter of kittens on one of the sofas, who began climbing all over him as soon as he began snoring.
Rory ran into a golden blonde (guy? girl?) animatedly talking about something with a woman in a leather jacket with patches sewn all over it. He guessed the subject was explosives, judging by the sound effect and hand gesture accompanying the topic. Loudly, she exclaimed, “Wicked!”
He shivered a little when he found a guy that looked almost exactly like L (seriously, how many duplicates were running around this place?) except with hair that drooped around the shoulders, rather than defying gravity and a black shirt instead of white scooping handfuls of what appeared to be strawberry jam out of its container and sucking on it rather loudly, a creepy red-eyed stare completing the frightening picture.
A kind of dark, gothic looking kid with blonde, medium length hair sampled one of the tarts, closing his eyes in delight. "I tell you, Kyra, these is the best food you'll find the universe over. Made by the Viijd, you see. Renowned cooks, renowned." He smiled and waved, and the girl, a pretty one with full length brown hair, waved back.
A lady in leather with bangs attempted to pick a bloke’s pocket. Rory figured she wasn’t supposed to be here and thought about warning someone, but the man in cricketing gear noticed and turned around, beginning to lecture her. He grinned and turned away, continuing his quest to find his wife.
A man with a Scottish accent and a kilt politely tapped him on the shoulder, saying that he’d heard of the Lone Centurion and would he no’ like to try his skill on Jamie McCrimmon, coming for a wee bit of practice since he was a mite rusty? Just as politely, Rory declined, leaving the Scotsman disappointed.
More children ran around, playing games, eating food, or telling stories. More people were trying the karaoke, and Rory thought about convincing Amy to do that--he'd think about a duet, but he can't sing.
Rory ran into a grandfather looking chap, a nice looking man with a red cap and some comfortable clothing, a white beard and very light blue grey eyes. “I’m sorry, but you don’t happen to have seen a red-haired, strong-willed woman who can be…a bit loud sometimes, have you?” He knew Amy would probably kill him if she ever heard that description, but figured those points would be the most likely to impress themselves on strangers.
The man laughed. “Which one?” he asked, nodding his head in the direction of a woman following the man in the brown coat.
“You left me on my own, Spaceman! And you still haven’t explained why we’re here! You promised me a party, and I was thinking…more of a party, not a gathering! The last time you left me in the middle of a terrifying forest I ran into Vampire Man!” The man chuckled, and Rory realized that the stranger probably knew the woman.
“Um, sorry, that isn’t the one I’m looking for. Thank you, though.” The man nodded.
“Wilfred Mott.” He found himself on the receiving end of a respectful handshake. “I was so…angry, at the new one. For taking my Doctor’s place. A pretender, I thought. But in the end,” the grandfather person—Wilfred—sighed, staring at the yelling woman, who hadn’t run out of breath yet, with a wistful look, “…your Doctor’s not really all that bad. Tell him…” The voice began to shake, but he soldiered on, “…tell him thank you. He’ll understand.”
Rory knew enough to realize he probably wouldn’t understand what was going on, but he guessed that this bloke might be the flaming red-head’s grandfather, and something had happened. Something, maybe, he blamed the Doctor for. He didn’t know what the various people had meant by ‘my Doctor’, but guessed he’d either learn about it later, or it wouldn’t be a problem. He nodded in sympathy. “Will do.”
The man squeezed his shoulder in gratitude. “Go find your ginger, then,” he urged him gently, amused, and Rory grinned back.
"Greetings, human," Amy looked down to find the small metallic dog was addressing her. It waved its tail, and if it were human it would be grinning.
She blinked. That…thing. She’d seen it before, but where? It took her a few minutes for her to realize that she’d seen it arrive with the first guests, and that it hadn’t been on the Crowded Beach of Zrrana, the Cavernous Mouth of the Howling Trivid, or Scrdlanas Ma, their last three destinations. “Hello,” she stated cautiously. Despite that other ‘Doctor’ having hired ‘Security’, she wasn’t altogether certain that some strange alien with a grudge against the Doctor wouldn’t show up to try to spoil anything. Or kidnap someone. Or generally wreck havoc.
“Would the human known as…” the dog paused, as if accessing its records, “…Amelia Pond like to play electronic fetch with me?” He paused hopefully.
She paused for a moment, then burst out laughing. Only with the Doctor.
“How does that work, then?” she asked, when she could catch her breath. The dog’s tail, by this point, was drooping sadly.
“You ask me something obscure that you would like to know, and I will try to fetch it for you.” She realized he was talking about information online. Well, that was unusual, but then, a talking robotic dog wasn’t something she ran into every day, either.
“What’s your name?” she asked, trying to be friendly.
The tail drooped even further. “That is not uncommon knowledge.”
She grinned. If she had to guess, this dog belonged to the Doctor. They both were so childlike. “I’m just trying to be friendly before we play.”
Instantly, the dog’s demeanor changed. He wagged his tail a bit. “K-9.”
“Canine?” she asked, trying not to laugh again and hurt the dog’s feelings. Yes, this had to have belonged to the Doctor. Only he would name a dog, even a metallic one, Canine.
“Affirmative.” K-9 didn’t realize that Amy was misspelling his name in her head. In fact, it was something that never really came up in a chat with anyone.
“All right.” She paused, then, curious, she asked, “What is the most obscure fact about a TARDIS you can find?”
“Processing.” A pause, then, “…although the answer to that question could be disputed, I believe the Record of Rassilon, a history of the Great Vampire Wars, only being available on Type 40 TARDISes or earlier would be the correct answer.”
That was a response meant to tease. What was a Type 40 TARDIS? What were the Great Vampire Wars? She shrugged that aside.
“What about the Doctor?” she asked mischievously, certain that question was one she wasn’t meant to ask…and all the more reason to do so!
Rory stiffened upon seeing the teleportation pad light up and a group of soldiers materialize. Despite the Monks of Mercy or whatever they were called, trouble still managed to call at the Doctor’s door. He started looking for Amy more frantically. He had to protect her.
“Benton, I thought you said it was an emergency!” a military chap, old but still regulation material, bellowed back at a grinning middle-aged man.
“It’s sort of a surprise party. Hello, dear,” a white-haired woman spoke from the front, beaming.
The salt-and-pepper moustache trembled a bit. Then the man chuckled, amused. “It’s the Doctor again, isn’t it? He’s the only one who would go in for that sort of thing.”
“Yes, sorry, hello, Brigadier Alastair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart,” the Real Doctor pushed to the front of the crowd, grinning sheepishly and stating the name with relish. I recruited Benton.” He gave the smiling second-in-command, whose name was apparently Benton, a thumbs-up, which was met with a salute.
The man looked him over, a small smile on his lips, before stating with a sigh, “You really are bad at taking care of yourself, aren’t you, Doctor?”
The Doctor looked embarrassed and rubbed his nose. “Er…yes, well…”
“Which one are you on? Eighth?” Rory almost laughed. This man sounded like Amy, giving the Time Lord a hard time. So he was a friend, and they didn’t have to worry about invasions just yet. He could relax.
This time the Doctor rubbed the back of his neck, before admitting, “Eleventh.”
Dark brown eyes widened in shock. “Good Lord,” he stated somewhat faintly. “I had no idea it was really as bad as all that.”
Another sheepish smile. “…Sorry,” the Doctor finally managed.
The Brig laughed at him. He might be old, fit for the desk job he’d been slated at UNIT and a couple adventures involving running now and then when he’d felt entirely too cooped up, but the spirit of the old Colonel was still in him. Just like John Watson, he reflected, the promise of adventure around this man, his best friend, was too hard to resist. Like everyone else, he’d come running. And apparently, they all had. “It’s a dangerous job, Doctor. We both know that. Just promise me you’ll take more care in the future.” The young man in tweed solemnly promised, but although practically everyone suspected it was a lie, it was enough for now.
“Who is here? UNIT, of course, and all of your selves, Doctor…?” Lethbridge-Stewart and the squadron of soldiers began, finally, to step off the platform. He was met with a yell of “Brigadier” and the first guest to arrive met the Brig with a hug as well. “Sarah Jane Smith!” he stated, delighted.
The man in the long brown jacket from earlier turned up at Rory’s elbow as they watched the new arrivals and crowd mingle. “Hullo, I’m…John Smith. This Doctor of yours.” He trailed off, looking distressed, but continued. “…What’s he like?”
More prompted this question besides simple curiosity. Mr. Pond stared at this Smith, but couldn’t decide why it seemed so important, so he answered simply, “He’s good. I mean, really good. Mad as a hatter, but good, yeah.”
“That’s good.” Tears were gathering in the brown eyes, but the man wiped them away and disappeared into the mass of people.
Rory shook his head, still looking for Amy. Weirdness, but then, in a good way he thought. It tended to congregate itself around the Doctor.
Rory poked the Doctor, having bumped into the lunatic with the manic smile and the tremendously long scarf who, for some reason, kept trying to offer him jelly babies. He didn’t want to take a no for an answer and Rory had only barely fended him off by telling him that the Brigadier had arrived. How the bloke had missed that, he had no idea. “Where’s River?”
The Doctor turned to him with an innocent, wide-eyed stare. “I didn’t give her an invitation. I figured she’d just show up, since she always seems to do that.” That wasn’t much of an answer, but it seemed that a real reply wasn’t forthcoming. The topic wasn’t brought up again.
“Okay, well, do you know where Amy is?” He wouldn’t put it past some of these guys (or aliens, or whatever) to be flirting with her. And she’d be leading them on as usual.
“It doesn’t matter,” the Doctor stated dismissively. Rory was about to protest when he added, “We’re all about to eat. The cooks are ready. You can find her then.”
He nodded in reply, and as a gangly, dark-skinned, thirteen year old boy climbed onto the huge feast table and shouted about food and the crowd began sort of swarming over in their direction, Mr. Pond guessed he was right. Knowing Amy, she would insist on the second most gorgeous bloke sitting on one side of her, and then would fight off tooth and claw anyone who tried to take his place by her side. Or she’d find him and drag him to the perfect seats. Either way, he’d find her again.
When everyone was sitting down, the cooks started to come out with trays piled high with steaming food. A bossy Australian woman several seats down looked somewhat grumpy that most of the food in the plate in front of her had already been eaten. The food really shouldn’t have been put out before everyone was ready to eat. Not when there were children around. Several of them further down giggled.
A child, maybe fourteen or fifteen, rolled his eyes. He looked like an albino, skin seeming bleached further without the contrast that a colour of pyjamas other than white would bring. His only concession to the fact that this was a party was the black bow tie that was tied loosely around his neck. He was calmly playing with a few action figures, but the concentration and lack of emotion was unnerving. Rory swallowed and quickly looked away.
It was easy to distract himself with the cooks. The food looked amazing. Watari was among them, wearing an apron and carrying trays himself. He seemed to be the only human cook, though. Rory vaguely remembered someone earlier in the crowd stating that they’d gotten aliens. What had he called them…Vij? Vijid? Something along those lines. They looked somewhat like the cross between a horse and an armadillo, with a bony tail and a long face covered in bone and tufts of fur. They smiled a lot, though, and their eyes were bright with curiosity, pride…emotion. Good enough for him.
“Watari!” Apparently, L’s voice could carry too. The whole table quieted down, as they all stared at the white-shirted detective.
“Yes, Ryuzaki?” The voice was quiet, but loud enough to hear with the dead silence.
“This party is as much for you as it is for all of us. You will set down that tray right now and sit as one of the guests.” Demanding too.
“No, Ryuzaki. I will finish here and then I shall proceed to enjoy myself. I learned a new recipe or two in the kitchens, and I am certainly not allowed to help with the washing up. Does that satisfy you?” The stares were a physical representation of the contest of wills. At last, the raven’s black eyes moved downward in defeat.
The Doctor started tapping his spoon on his glass just as a smirking man in a long black coat leaned over across the table, looking at Amy in a manner that made Rory’s hackles rise. “Captain Jack Harkness. And who might you be?”
“How many times do I have to tell you to stop it?” the Doctor demanded from the head of the table, half amused and half annoyed. The flirtatious, cocky grin was now directed at the Time Lord.
“You have to stop getting more scrumptious every regeneration, Doctor,” the man stated easily. Someone down at the end of the table giggled.
The smile on the Doctor’s face faltered, and he looked as flustered as he’d ever done when someone was flirting. Or trying to kiss him. He was really adorable that way, Amy reflected. She’d do it more often if it wouldn’t hurt Rory’s feelings.
“Moving on,” he gulped, trying not to blush. “This party isn’t about me. It’s about all of you.” The shocked silence at his words seemed to make him slightly angry. “Oh, come on! It’s not completely unlikely that I would want to celebrate all of you, because you’re amazing, really you are!”
“I thought you said that it was too painful to look back, Doctor.” That was an old lady. But then, she probably hadn’t been.
The Doctor beamed, looking down the table, as excited as a kid at play. He wasn’t lonely. He had friends. Or someone who’d finally found their home, and all the people they wanted to live there would fit. “I’m not looking back. I’m looking forward. This is Life. In all its wild, beautiful, untamable glory. This will probably never happen again, but the beauty of it is that it doesn’t have to. Thank you, all of you.”
The silence, rendered lovely somehow, was broken a minute later. The ‘Captain’ sounded somewhat surprised. “I like the new one.”
Laughter and heartfelt agreement could be heard, and then the pleasant babbling and hearty eating began. Rory heard several stories about traveling all over the world from the grandmotherly figure, who apparently had seven kids and thirteen grandchildren. She’d recently been released from prison. “Protesting in China can be dangerous,” she admitted with a laugh he immediately liked.
The Indian kids that had been running about were all apparently from Jackson Orphanage. Watari had a word or three with the couple who ran the place, eyes sparkling. He seemed to be taking very good mental notes.
Rory found himself talking to a chap named Harry Sullivan, whom he’d actually heard of in his work. A doctor famed for his work with vaccines. He’d traveled in the TARDIS too, and Mr. Pond guessed that he’d probably had a crush on Sarah (the first person to arrive), just from the way he talked about her. They’d never gotten together, apparently, which would have been his incentive to stay. The nurse got so involved in his conversation with the Doctor that he didn’t even realize that the Captain had struck up another conversation with his wife, who was loving every minute of the attention.
He was somewhat surprised to see the Trojan era couple, both somewhat uncomfortable and completely enjoying themselves, at the end of the table. He felt his hand clench, seeking the familiar comfort of his sword. Somewhat surprising, really. At some point, even he had begun to think that The Centurion was just some sort of fairy tale.
A foreign lady in a uniform like that of the soldiers who’d last come in and a grinning, fair-haired man in full armor was bickering good-naturedly across the table. Eventually, one of the children at the end got their attention, and they stopped their quarrel to smile at each other, holding hands.
Rory finally noticed the bloke chatting his wife up and felt the urge to stab something—particularly this smug stranger—burn through him. Instead, in a low, dangerous voice, he stated, “I can ask the Doctor to deal with you.”
“Please,” the man requested with a wink, before looking away, sliding into an expression of deep sorrow. Rory blinked, unsure of what to make of the situation, but at least the man had stopped trying to seduce Amy. She seemed a bit put out that they weren’t going to be fighting over her, but if he guessed right, things like that would only encourage this man.
A grandfather looked on with a paternal, proud smile on his face. Someone in plaid near the end would not stop playing tunes on his recorder and got it stolen out of his hands and snapped in half by the irritated androgynous blonde he’d seen earlier.
Rory didn’t think he’d ever remember half of it. The rest of the night blurred with the stories and movies, puzzles and games and general good company. He got to dance with Amy a lot, which was good. And apparently Tux Doctor and Matt and a cat-person could really sing. He didn’t recognize some of the songs, but they burned through him fiercely, like the song was woven from smoke and sunlight. A man with wavy hair and a velvet Victorian jacket wiped a few tears out of his eyes at those before smiling at him and moving on. The synchronized dancing was phenomenal. By the end of the party, though, many of the guests had just curled up under blankets and gone to sleep. Rory would like that, but he’d rather sleep in the TARDIS, bunk bed or no bunk bed.
The Doctor nodded at the unspoken suggestion. “Good idea, I think. It’s wrapping up, and I really don’t want to help with the clean-up.”
They started toward where he’d parked the TARDIS, when the first guest strode up. “Not trying to sneak off again, are you, Doctor?”
The Doctor turned around, looking like a naughty schoolboy who’d just been caught. He offered a small smile. “Unsuccessfully, obviously.”
She smiled back at him, shaking her head. “Always the same. Ah well. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Goodbye, Doctor.” His hearts sank a little, but he held out his arms, and she rushed into the hug as he held her tight against his chest. She knew something was wrong—she hadn’t been an investigative journalist for nothing—but she wouldn’t ask. In a way, he was relieved. All the same, it meant she probably had an idea of what was coming, and hadn’t been fooled. ‘Since when do I need an excuse to hold a party?’ he’d asked…he wasn’t sure who, but she wouldn’t be put off by that.
Watari was the same, he reflected. Maybe even the Brig as well. As if they could sense the death cloud, lurking on the edge of the horizon, waiting to claim them.
No, he told himself, no tears. This was a celebration of their life. Their death doesn’t enter into the picture. Not yet anyway.
The Brigadier had come up behind them. “Goodbye again, Doctor. And thank you, for this.” He waved a vague hand at the base, and the Doctor was touched. Lethbridge-Stewart wasn’t really a man to say ‘thank you’. It was probably unspoken code for something else that he might or might not unravel one day. In the end, it probably didn’t matter.
“No, thank you both.” The smile was genuine, if a little sad. The visit ended as it usually did. Hugs, salutes, and an admonition from the Brigadier to Amy and Rory to ‘keep a better eye on him than the others obviously did’. He tried hard not to burst into hysterical laughter before he made it into the TARDIS, because it would probably turn into tears, and he couldn’t have them seeing that. So ultimately it was a bit rushed. L was annoyed, but he understood, and in the end they all climbed in to the magical blue box, waving as they did so.
A random umbrella with a red question mark for a handle was sitting on the chair. The Doctor hardly gave it a second glance. And if the Doctor was wiping away some tears before he began messing around with the TARDIS console again, neither of them commented.
Watari chuckled to himself, cataloguing the few recipes he’d gotten from the Viijd as he set about looking for this small L child he was supposed to have adopted. “You can take the credit for this one, Doctor…” In the end, it didn’t really matter whether he or the Doctor had the idea first, or who should take the credit for any number of things. The company, the memories of that time spent in the most beautiful, extraordinary, mad party…those were what had been meant to treasure. And of course, meaning to or not, that mad time traveler in his blue box had taught himself a valuable lesson he’d been forgetting.
Death wasn’t important in itself. It gave life its poignancy, but it was Life, brilliant, unpredictable Life, that should always be celebrated and remembered.
“…every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant. And we definitely added to their pile of good things.”
