sac_whovian: (Timelords - 3rd doc and master)
[personal profile] sac_whovian
Title: The Working of Time
By: [personal profile] sac_whovian
Rating: G
Genre: gen, episode tag
Warnings: none required
Summary: Did you ever have an odd little fantasy of a filler scene you'd like to see because it would help right an injustice in canon? This is mine.
Word count: ~1000
Note: Follows "Flesh and Stone" and contains spoilers for various episodes of the 10th and 11 Doctors.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC.

Having a nice cuppa in the afternoon was always pleasant, even if it seemed somewhat anticlimactic after being told that the crack in your bedroom wall was related to your being the cause of time being undone. Or something like that. The Doctor talked very fast and used a lot of complicated language, along with the occasional 'timey-wimey,' phrase, which Amy rather hoped wasn't a technical term on his home planet. She'd thought his people were very old and very wise, and 'timey-wimey' didn't quite fit with the majestic vision she was developing.

So here she sat, sipping her tea and nibbling a scone, her attention caught between watching the Doctor's long, expressive face as he talked, and his thin fingers as he ate, both of which were fascinating. Despite her apparent importance, his attention wasn't on her, but watching the crowd walk outside the café.

"I thought we were going home," she interrupted when he took a breath. Flydale North was a nice place, but it wasn't Leadworth. Though it was possibly even smaller than Leadworth, if such a feat was possible.

"One thing I have to do first. Must do first. Really should have done it long ago, and I don't know why I didn't, when I was dying before. A gross oversight. Though it may not mean much in the future, if time changes. Because if you don't remember the Daleks, maybe that means she never had to face them."

"She who?"

"Her," the Doctor said, up like a shot and scampering out of the café with a yelled, "I'll be right back!"

Amy leaped up too, because she'd realized she needed to be right beside the Doctor to know what was happening. Coherent and calm explanations after the fact weren't his strong suit. "We'll be right back! Don't take our food!" She ran after him, glad that she'd already paid, so they wouldn't be nicked for avoiding the bill.

"Hello! Excuse me!" The Doctor was addressing a woman, making her stop and turn. "Miss Harriet Jones, Minister of Parliament for Flydale North, I believe?"

The woman was middle-aged, brown-haired and with sharp features, attractive in an earnest way. "I'm Harriet Jones, running as MP for Flydale North, though I appreciate your faith in me." She offered her hand. "I hope that means I have your vote?"

"Miss Jones." The Doctor took her hand with both of his. All his manic energy paused as he focused on her. "I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor Who?"


"And I'm Amy. Amy Pond." Amy offered her hand too. Harriet Jones looked a bit disconcerted as the Doctor didn't release her right hand, but unflinchingly offered her left to Amy, who was momentarily tempted to follow the Doctor's example, but shook it instead and let it go. A mad man in a blue box was enough; she didn't need to be a mad woman.

"I need to tell you something, Harriet Jones. Not because you'll understand it, but because it needs to be said. Do you understand that?"

Some people might have pretended to understand the Doctor to escape quickly, but not Harriet Jones. "I'm not sure I follow you, Doctor."

"Like a coma patient," Amy inserted, thinking of her fiancé's work at the hospital. "Lots of family members talk to them, even though they don't respond."

"Should I be alarmed by being compared to a coma patient?" Harriet asked.

"No!" The Doctor said. "That's just a bad comparison. Well, not entirely a bad comparison. It's accurate in a way, I suppose. But that's a side issue. The thing I want to say is… You are an amazing woman, Harriet Jones. Remember that. The Doctor knows that you are an amazing woman."

"And you're the Doctor?"

"Yes. Well, not exactly as you may always think of the Doctor, but for now. I am the Doctor, and you are an amazing woman, who should never have been doubted. Be doubted. "

"I see," she said, hesitantly, as if torn between wanting to dismiss him as a loony, and sensing that there were hidden depths in his words. "Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate your opinion of me."

"Yes. That's always been my opinion." The Doctor dropped her hand, his eyes still studying her intently. "We must go now."

"So must I. It's been good talking to you, Doctor, Miss Pond. I hope you'll vote for me in the election." She turned and strode off energetically, with a pace that Amy thought was her normal speed, and not motivated by the desire to flee.

"Doctor." Amy curled a hand around his upper arm. "You want her to remember that when she's dying, don't you?"

"I want her to not need to remember it. I want it to never make sense to her. But I had to say it anyway, just in case. I should have said it before." His shoulders twitched, his body suddenly vibrating with tension, like he'd been taken off pause. "Time to go to your home, Amy, and figure out what's happening with your life." He grabbed her hand, pulling her in the direction of the TARDIS.

"Oh joy," Amy muttered, regretting missing the last of the scone. She'd have to learn to eat faster around the Doctor. She lengthened her stride to keep up with his longer legs, almost skipping, as she pondered the Doctor's odd errand and what might have happened with Miss Harriet Jones. She'd never thought of running for political office, but right now she envied Harriet. Spending your days asking for people to vote for you seemed so much simpler than having the Doctor trying to figure out whether you were the cause of changes in the time stream.

If she was, she hoped her time worked out better for Harriet Jones.

~ the end ~

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sac_whovian: (Default)

January 2011


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