Current mood:	accomplished
Entry tags:	alias, doctor who

fic: on those tuesdays... 1/1 (Alias/Doctor Who)
title: on those tuesdays...
fandom: Alias/Dr. Who
prompt: #088 "He"
disclaimer: Don't own any of the characters.
word count: 1980
rating: PG
summary: the Doctor could be quite the annoying know-it-all when he wanted to be.
note: thanks to marag and donna_c_punk for the betas (especially Mara for the consult on Romana) and the advice. The handholding was also especially wonderful.



“Fine mess you got yourself into that time now wasn’t it?”

The disapproval in his voice was no surprise, nor the subtle undercurrent of accusation she could hear accompanying it. Lying ever so quietly just beneath it all, just waiting for the clock to strike.

“No worse than any you’ve created for yourself.” Rubbing the healed skin of her chest, the woman who had learned to call herself Lauren sat up to accept the cup of tea thrust at her. “You’ve regenerated,” she observed unnecessarily. Of the Time Lords many biological quirks that one always had been quite difficult to miss even as distracted as she currently was. “I suppose that was the outcome of one of those fine messes of *yours*?”

The Doctor looked as though he might be peevish about her comment but, apparently he wasn’t wearing the right tie for peevish today. “Bit of a one, yeah. So?” He gestured to himself. “How’s it look?”

He was curious but she imagined the opinions that truly mattered were ones he’d already sussed out. “Nice,” she said simply, wishing for a lump or two more sugar in her tea. He never did manage to make it right. Else wise, he thought her sweet enough on her own. Unlikely.

“Just nice?” He looked almost offended and she realized she’d forgotten just how much fun it was to tease him. The Doctor was a man of such flamboyant personality that he was just an utter delight to provoke. “A man goes and regenerates, gets himself a nice shiny new body all up and rarin’ to go and all you’ve got to say for it is…nice?!”

She hid her grin behind the mug of tea, passing a glance about the TARDIS. It had changed in a thousand different ways and yet hadn’t changed a wit of course. She’d rather always loved the timeless, aged feeling of it. It was a peculiar duality that it could be both but it was the TARDIS. Like many things about the Doctor, most days one learned to accept and move on. She long ago had reserved the right to spontaneously change her mind on such matters and exercised it as she pleased. Not that it surprised him much; the Doctor could be quite the annoying know-it-all when he minded to be.

That was naturally, most of the time, save for Tuesdays on the week of Friday the thirteenth. On those Tuesdays, he was frightfully agreeable. The rest of the time, in true Doctor fashion, he managed to make insufferable arrogance an adorable and possibly endearing quirk.

Quite the feat really when one thought about it.

“All right,” she flicked her hair – which was in dire need of a good brushing – over her shoulder and squared them up. “If you want a proper assessment then I suppose I’ll have to try and give you one. Remember,” she cautioned with one upheld finger, also observing with the motion that a shower would not go amiss. God, she must look the fright. “I am fresh from a regeneration, a near death experience which might have resulted in yet another regeneration and a rather awful time spent in the most dreadful of circumstances and, as such, I advise you to consider yourself appropriately warned.”

The Doctor’s lips twitched and he let the smile blossom, throwing his arms back to present himself for perusal. “I consider myself appropriately cautioned as to the potential mortal danger to my ego. Proceed at your leisure.”

In truth, she rather approved of the Doctor’s latest incarnation. She had thought the previous go-rounds had been quite wonderful in their way but on the basis of appearance alone…quite impressive really.

Not that it would do to tell him of course. There were rules of conduct for this sort of thing.

”Well,” she said finally with a purposefully droll voice, “the height is quite sufficient enough but I must confess I’m not too gone on the hair and…are you quite sure about that nose?”

Predictably, he opened his eyes to unleash a look of wounded pride. “Here now, I like this nose!” His hand immediately went to the offended body part in question. “What’s wrong with my nose?”

She had the sudden urge to giggle and she hadn’t done that in quite some time, at least not an honest giggle, and wasn’t that a marvel? Considering how best to answer the question, she stretched one leg out before her and damn, her clothes were an utter right off. Of course, getting shot and knocked down into a pit would do that to them. Unfortunate, she’d liked those slacks. “Well, it’s somewhat hard to put a finger on, exactly, but it doesn’t seem quite…right.” She sipped the tea, smiling as he crossed his eyes and looked down at it. “But, I suppose like anything, I’ll just have to get used to it. Everything is acclimation when you get down to it all.”

Quite affronted by it all, or possibly just testing it out, the Doctor gave an indignant sniff. “Don’t see what there is about my nose that needs acclimation. It’s quite a fine nose I should think. Distinctive in its way, must confess I’m not mad about the hair myself,” she watched him tug it meaningfully. “Was hoping for ginger but suppose its all part of the package, yeah?”

Stopping mid-consideration, he made a show of looking her over. "Speaking of – are you quite aware of the fact you look absolutely awful?” He strode forward and leaned in close. “Oh yes, indeed, just perfectly awful. You, my dear, are an utter mess.”

Unperturbed, she took in his examination with the air of one long used to his antics. “I was shot repeatedly by a man with very bad aim, my husband actually, who left me for dead while he went off with his lover to – no doubt – have sex and dance upon my figurative grave.” She quirked a smile and toasted him with the tea. “All that considered – ”

“You’re still a mess.” The Doctor grabbed her hand, practically hauling her up and into motion by force of will. “Come on then, into the nearest large body of water with you.” He ignored her gasp of surprise as the tea cup went flying; he kept up his running monologue as they went. “Can’t expect to hold a decently civilized conversation with someone closely resembling a half dead rodent and don’t look at me like that, you very well do and you know it.”

----

Were it anyone else, and were he not right, she might have argued the point.

But it wasn't anyone else, it was him and all the history that went along. She knew only too well that she would have more success dissuading the TARDIS than the Doctor. Best to just let him have his way if the occasion called for it, easier on the lungs that.

In this particular situation was one which going along meant ending up in a rather pleasant bath. Which, everyone sensible knew, was just the ticket after a quite inconvenient near death experience. Inconvenient as it was, it had been more tiresome than deadly, Michael really was an atrocious shot. All those hours spent practicing had been for naught. The man couldn't hit the broadside of a barn much less vital organs and what he had nicked had fixed up nicely.

Now, if only the same could be said for her clothing.

"Is this the point where I politely wait for you to tell me how you managed to land yourself in your fine mess?" The Doctor, naturally, didn't knock - he had never been one for such concerns. Barging in was far more his cuppa and one simply adjusted to it. "I suspect there is quite a long story behind it and I'd like to get started if I might."

"Not nearly so long as you would think," she admitted almost reluctantly. "Just Milo Rambaldi, his followers, and another attempt at an apocalypse."

The Doctor propped himself up against the wall and looked as if he might become annoyed. "That lot again, mmm? I take it they've nothing better to do than nearly destroy the world every few decades?"

She shook her head, "Not since Take That disbanded, no."

He huffed a breath. "Bloody repetitive of them isn't it?"

Sinking down comfortably into the bubbles, she sighed deeply. "Quite, pointing that out to them, however, is inviting something altogether quite unpleasant to happen."

"Like a hail of pesky bullets?" He scoffed. "Also, was it particularly necessary to go and marry the man?"

Oh he would go and point that out, she flicked suds at him in retaliation. "It seemed like an appropriate choice at that moment. He wasn't exactly an ogre and he's capable of the odd bout of romantic gestures at times. Can't say much for his obsession with hockey..."

"Or taste in old girlfriends," the Doctor cut in. "Must not forget his appalling lack of judgment on the matter of which one to shoot."

Laughing, she rested her head back against the rim of the tub, "Your loyalty is touching, but you haven't even met the woman."

"No," his voice softened into something she might have termed affection. "I have, however, had the experience of meeting you. More than enough data to develop a sufficiently informed opinion by my lights."

She smiled, acknowledging the compliment with a dip of her head. She was too new to this regeneration to know precisely what the Doctor would do, or say, next. At times, it made the process exhilarating while others it was far more trouble than it seemed to be worth. Which category this go round fell into was anybody's guess or, rather, hers.

"Whoever the better woman," she plunged ahead, "the question is academic now. I turn up at Sunday brunch with the Bristows and things will become somewhat uncomfortable."

"Somewhat," the Doctor echoed dryly, his voice carrying a hundred different responses in a hundred different tones. Each one was more relevant than the last and each one held so many meanings it was almost a challenge to sort them out. "You've made preparations for the rest of good old Milo's cockamamie scheme I trust? Got all your ducks lined up in a pretty little row, ready for the shooting to begin?"

She lifted one lean leg out of the water, leisurely eyeing the soap sliding over the slick skin. "You know I do. I could hardly leave without contingency plans. Most everything should work its way out and what doesn't, well that's to be dealt with then."

The Doctor permitted himself a short laugh, "Meaning so long as the world doesn't end, as far as you're concerned they've made their beds and they can bloody well lie in 'em then." A genuine grin of amusement burst over his new features. "Blimey, you haven't changed a bit have you? Spruced up the bits a tad here and there, changed the name and all, but that's just housekeeping, same old, same old underneath." He shook his head fondly, "I might've known you go on and pull something like that. Just like you, innit?"

"I do try to maintain some consistency," she settled back into the tub once more. "So many things never stop changing, one tends to get lost in the shuffle if you aren't mindful of it."

"And one thing you've always been is mindful." Breaking away from the wall, he patted her shoulder in passing. "Hurry up then, I'm supposed to be meeting Rose at her Mum's and Jackie's a bit of a bear when we're late. She'll really let me have it I show up with you in tow and give no warning." The Doctor looked back at her with an almost unholy look of glee. "It's going to be brilliant!"

It was going to be quite mad is what it was.

But, naturally, what else could one expect with the Doctor? He did so prefer things that way.

fin.