Summary: There's a storm coming, but the Doctor isn't ready for it yet.
Fandom: Doctor Who (New)
Original Title, Author and URL: Innuendo Intended by jeonggam.
Funny little creatures, humans were. They burned so brightly, so fiercely for such a short time, and yet they still kept themselves under such restraint—most of the time.
Well, some of the time.
There were always the ones that just said what was on their mind. That sort of thing had bewildered the Doctor, once, when humans were still overwhelming and unpredictable to him. Tegan mouthing off at him for things beyond his control, Jo blithely pointing out things he would rather had gone ignored, Jamie gleefully stating the painfully obvious . . .
Pulling on his tuxedo jacket, the Doctor smiled at his reflection in the mirror. He smoothed down the lapels, turning to look at himself sideways. They came in all types, he supposed, from the introspective and quiet, like Vicki, to the loud and boisterous, like Mel. He was fond of them all, in their own way, even as the patterns they fell into often aggravated him.
And even Tegan, for all her bravado, had never really said what was on her mind.
That was the problem with Jack and Rose. After all these years—all those centuries—perhaps he knew humans better than they knew themselves. Significant glances and silly games only went so far. Sometimes that was for the best, but he could only take so much, was only so patient these days.
Which was the whole reason for going to Krantor-1; first class dress was required, and there was no other way he was going to get himself into a suit otherwise. That Rose and Jack would undoubtedly appreciate the view was just a side benefit to the main point: they were all running out of time, and he wanted one last moment of wild abandon with them, before it all came crashing down.
Funny that: a Time Lord running out of time. Not like it hadn’t happened before.
There was a storm coming, and he could sense it on the time winds; could feel it in his bones every time they entered the vortex. Couldn’t place it, not properly, and he didn’t dare peek into the future to see what it was, but he knew it was coming. He could practically taste it. Everything was going to change—very soon—and none of them were ready for it yet.
And perhaps they’d never be ready for it, but he wanted to at least try.
So, no Slitheen, this time. No Daleks or Gelf or nanites. It was going to be a party—a lark—and they were going to enjoy themselves, come Hell or high water. Jack deserved that much, and so did Rose for that matter.
Maybe he did, too.
He was just starting to get used to life again—this body, these humans, this daft old police box TARDIS. It had all changed before, many times in fact, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for to happen again—at least not so soon.
“You’re getting sentimental in your old age, Doctor,” he said to his reflection in the mirror. Sighing, he ran a hand through his close cropped hair, and then took his limp bowtie off where it was draped over the mirror frame. He pulled it around his neck and fussed about tying it, trying not to think of the last time he had worn a bowtie—he hadn’t actually boarded the Titanic that day, but that nautical disaster stayed in his mind close enough. Perhaps tonight would be another near-miss disaster, but so long as it remained a miss, he wasn’t going to complain.
Pushing those thoughts out of his head, he made quick work of the bowtie and then adjusted the buttons on his vest. Wasn’t quite Victorian, which was what he preferred, but perhaps it was best not to think about that, as well. With so many bits of his old lives hanging about the Wardrobe Room, it was hard not to end up wearing a bit of something that reminded him of something—someone—else.
He plucked a top hat off a nearby stand and tried it out. It fit well, but he could just imagine Jack and Rose bursting out laughing at seeing it. Well, Krator-1 wasn’t big on hats, anyway, so probably best to go without. He set it back down, gave his reflection one more appraising look, and then went to find the necklace he had in mind to give Rose.
For all their intellect, humans were handy in that they’d believe just about anything he told them. Without question, he knew Rose would believe that the necklace was a requirement for their excursion, even though it wasn’t. It was the simplest way to give her a nice gift—the built-in tracking device in the pendant was just a handy bonus. Heck, he knew if he told them the required dressed was yellow wellies, silver anoraks and Beatle wigs, they would don such items without protest—well, without much protest, anyway.
The necklace was a pretty silver little thing that he had picked up on Gauda Minor a few centuries ago—or was that a few centuries from now? The Gaudian moon was well renowned for its silverwork, the hair bangles and body jewelry coveted all the way out on some of the Rim worlds. In its time, it was said even the Galactic President herself wore bits of Gauda Minor silver.
He had traded a bottle of vintage wine from the TARDIS cellar and a handful of stories for this little beauty. For such a high quality necklace, it felt a bit like highway robbery to him, but the happy old thief—merchant, he reminded himself—that he had traded with seemed quite content with the exchange. It was his curmudgeonly computer technician friend that had begrudgingly pointed out the intricate tracking computer he had implanted in the mechanics of the necklace.
Such work was priceless, really, and the Doctor had got it for a bottle of wine and almost literally a song. It hadn’t been doing the two merchants much good just sitting there, and a bottle of wine went a long way. Besides, who knew, maybe their necklace would come in handy and save Rose’s life one day.
If nothing else, Rose would like it for what it was—a pretty necklace with a silver heart pendant—and possibly even get the wrong idea about him giving it to her.
Which wasn’t exactly the wrong idea, it just wasn’t exactly right, either.
“Tradition for all Krantor-1 females to wear, I think this should do it,” the Doctor said to himself, holding the necklace by the chain to study the pendant. It was a common enough design that they were sure to see some other women on Kraton-1 wearing it too, and if not, well, if either of his companions noticed he’d just feign ignorant. Fashions did change so quickly, after all.
Anyway, the point was to have fun tonight. Pretty clothes would get them all in the right mind, as would the gift. He’d give Jack something later tonight, to make up for it, and hopefully Rose would be in for that, too. A few daiquiris and a stroll beneath the Krantor night sky would complete the setting, providing they could avoid encountering the native crocodile. Nasty beasts, those, and they had sharp eyes for fashion, too.
Pocketing the necklace, the Doctor headed toward the Control Room. There he stood in the doorway a few seconds to listen to Jack and Rose, who had already gathered to wait for him, talking. Smiling, he watched Rose tie Jack’s bowtie. In their finery, they both looked quite ravishing.
“Should’ve let you do mine, too,” he called, stepping into the Console Room.
There was awe in their eyes as they took in him in his suit, and he broke into a toothy, pleased smile at their reactions. It was already going so perfect, and they hadn’t even left the TARDIS yet.
Let tomorrow bring what troubles it may—tonight was going to be fantastic.