Fic: An Unearthly Guest 2/2
Title An Unearthly Guest 2/2
Fandom Doctor Who (2005-present), Doctor Who: Eighth Doctor Adventures
Pairings Madame Vastra/Jenny Flint, implied Eighth Doctor/Fitz Kreiner
Rating/warnings PG
Spoilers None. Set after The Ancestor Cell, and at some unspecified point in the Paternoster Gang’s timeline.
Word count 14 430
Beta laughinggas13 (thanks!)
Disclaimer I don’t own anything at all.
Summary When Jenny finds an alien stranger outside the house at Paternoster Row, she and Madame Vastra follow instructions the Doctor has given them months in advance: “Take him in. Take care of him. Don’t get anyone else involved.” But the mysterious guest’s stay only leads to more questions. What has made him lose his memory? Why have they been told to keep the existence of alien life from an alien being? And how come the nameless guest reminds Jenny of the Doctor, when he looks nothing like him?
Author’s notes I had tons of fun writing this. This is not actually a multi-parter, but Livejournal won’t let me post it in one entry. If you prefer to read the whole thing in one place, you can found it here at AO3.
Part one can be found here.
Early the next morning, Jenny went to the laundry and picked up the clothes she had left there the day before. Now that they had been washed and mended, they looked considerably better. She hung the strange coat in the hall and delivered the rest to the guest. Soon afterwards, he descended the stairs, once again dressed in his own clothes. There was something Romantic, almost Wildesque over the way he looked. When his long locks had been wet and his fine clothes had been dirty, he had been a sorry sight, but now, he shone, content in at least this outer certainty. He breakfasted with Madame Vastra, who gingerly sipped her tea under her veil. Jenny noticed her watchful eyes on their guest, as though she was trying to decide whether she thought he was dangerous. He seemed oblivious of her study, but ate his breakfast happily and leafed through the morning paper. Was he looking for something which was familiar to him? Jenny wondered. If so, he would probably not find it in a human newspaper.
When they were both done, Jenny took their plates and took them out into the kitchen. It was then, just when she put them down, that she noticed something on the workbench - a featureless black cube, and a small strip of paper. Her stomach somersaulted with the realisation that she had completely forgotten the fact that she had taken those items out of the man’s coat pocket the night he arrived. She took them and almost ran out of the kitchen.
She found the guest in the hall, studying the katanas on the chest of drawers.
‘These are exquisite swords,’ he said, not looking up when she stopped at his side. Carefully, he picked up Vastra’s sword and looked at it closely. ‘Edo period, I should say. Wonderful craftsmanship.’
Seeing her watch him, the guest smiled and put the sword down.
‘I’m sorry, Jenny. What can I do for you?’ Jenny held out the cube and the strip of paper, one in each hand.
‘These were in your pocket, sir.’
His face changed. The smile slid off, and a look between fear and wonder entered his eyes. There was something solemn about the way he took the objects. He looked from one to the other, as if wondering where to begin. Finally, he unfolded the strip of paper. Jenny watched him read it, mouthing the words written there. He looked at whatever was written there, frowning.
‘What is it?’ she asked in a hushed voice.
‘It’s... instructions,’ he said uncertainly. ‘I think.’ He seemed to read it again and then said, not to anyone in particular: ‘Who is Fitz? Am I Fitz?’ He looked at the note again. ‘No, that doesn’t feel right. It’s fromFitz. He must be... someone I know. But who...?’ Then he looked up at Jenny again. His eyes looked suddenly very intense. ‘Do you know anyone called Fitz, Jenny?’
‘No, sir,’ she said, startled. His face softened, and he smiled.
‘No, I guessed not,’ he murmured and looked at the note yet again, his finger moving fractionally, as if to another word. ‘This is strange...’ he murmured and, without another word, started walking towards the library. Jenny was about to address him when she heard Madame Vastra’s voice from above.
‘Jenny!’ She turned and looked up at Vastra, who stood, veiled and half-hidden in shadows on the landing.
‘Yes, ma’am?’
‘I need your help with comparing some fingerprints.’
Jenny glanced in the direction of the library. She had expected their eccentric guest, with his varied knowledge, to turn around and volunteer at the mention of fingerprinting. Instead, he seemed oblivious to what was happening in the hallway, and was still looking at the note. She turned back and hurried upstairs to help Vastra.
Comparing fingerprints was something Jenny always enjoyed, and according to Vastra, she was far better than anyone at Scotland Yard at it. It was still a very new idea, but thanks to their motley team, they were able to use some methods which were not quite contemporary. As Jenny studied some photographs of fingerprints Vastra had found at the scene of the murder of a disgraced actor, the detective herself was inspecting samples of his stage makeup for signs of poison. They worked in silence for the best part of half an hour. As Vastra put aside yet another perfectly harmless jar of powder, she observed:
‘Strax is coming back from Glasgow tomorrow.’
Jenny put her magnifying glass down.
‘What should we do?’
Vastra shrugged.
‘Well, we can’t tell him to stay longer. He has had far too much time off already.’
‘But what about...?’ Jenny jerked her head towards the door.
Vastra pursed her lips.
‘We cannot possibly ask him to leave.’
‘The Doctor did say that he wouldn’t be staying for long,’ Jenny pointed out.
‘A very vague promise,’ Vastra sighed. ‘Well, Strax will have to take a room at the pub if our guest decides to stay longer.’
‘It’s a pity really,’ Jenny said. ‘The Doctor’s orders, I mean. I think ‘e’d make a very good detective’s assistant.’
Vastra smiled.
‘I already have an assistant, my dear.’
‘But you know what I mean. It wouldn’t be too bad, to ‘ave someone else who can pass for human. But if ‘e’s not to meet Strax, or see your face...’
‘Yes. It is quite impossible.’ Vastra leaned over her microscope to look closer at some blusher, but then glanced up at Jenny. ‘What are you thinking, Jenny?’
She leaned back in her chair, considered it for a moment and then spoke.
‘Does the Doctor really expect us to let ‘im leave like ‘e is now?’
‘With no memory, you mean? Perhaps he will regain it soon.’
‘I don’t think so, ma’am,’ Jenny explained. ‘See, ‘e ‘ad a note in ‘is pocket, that night when we found ‘im. It had some kind of instructions.’ Vastra raised her eyebrows, interested, and sat down.
‘And you didn’t read it?’
‘No,’ Jenny said, a little stung. ‘Mind you, it was difficult not to. But it wasn’t an investigation. I didn’t want to stick my nose where it didn’t belong.’ Vastra inclined her head.
‘Of course. But you think that these instructions indicate that he will not remember his identity because...?’
‘To make sure ‘e ‘ad something to look forward to. Some purpose.’
‘Like what?’ Vastra asked. Jenny thought about it.
‘I only looked at it very fast, but it was an invitation. Telling him to meet someone somewhere. There was a name on it - a signature. Fitz.’
Vastra blinked, surprised.
‘I had expected it to be from the Doctor. Perhaps we were wrong after all.’
‘What about that envelope the Doctor left us, though?’ Jenny asked, suddenly remembering. The stranger’s oddness had served to distract her from the ultimate purpose of the Doctor’s instructions.
‘Of course, there is that - but I do not know what is in it. I, like you, can sometimes be discreet.’
‘That could be an explanation!’
‘It is not impossible,’ Vastra said, but she did not sound convinced. ‘However, I think this game is one of time. The Doctor is trying to keep this Time Lord from being... contaminated with knowledge he should not have. He is making us all treat him very carefully.’
‘You mean ‘e’s trying to stop us from interfering with history?’ Jenny asked.
‘Yes, exactly.’
‘Still,’ she said. ‘I’m worried. I can’t ‘elp feeling that he’s not really right in the ‘ead.’
‘You mean you think he’s insane?’
‘I don’t know,’ Jenny said and picked up her magnifying glass again. ‘But if I didn’t know who I was, I’d be scared to death.’
They worked for another hour, until Jenny had to stop and go down to prepare luncheon. As she passed through the hall, she listened for sounds from the library, but heard nothing. She told herself that there was no need to worry, and that she should not disturb him for no reason. Keeping that in mind, she went about preparing the meal and laying the table as if nothing was amiss.
When the preparations were finished, she first went to tell Vastra luncheon was served, and then ran downstairs. Probably he was just reading quietly, she told herself, but unbidden, other suggestions presented themselves. What if he had made some awful discovery through that note? What if he had escaped through the window, and left without the Doctor’s envelope? What if he had come to some harm?
She stopped in the doorway, her imaginings cut short by what she saw. The guest was sitting with an atlas in front of him and the note laid out on top of it, rolling the black cube between his hands, watching it move. His eyes were red from crying. Jenny took a step towards him.
‘Is everything alright, sir?’ she asked. He did not react. ‘Were you able to make some sense out of it?’ Now, he sighed and put down the cube.
‘St Louis,’ he said, pronouncing it in French. ‘Or St Louis, if it is in America. That is where I am supposed to meet him.’
‘Your friend?’
‘Yes, I assume Fitz is my friend,’ he said, looking at the note. ‘I just don’t know if I am reading it correctly. The date...’ He traced it with his fingers. ‘It makes no sense.’ Jenny came closer.
‘Can I help somehow, sir?’
The guest laughed, not his previous, silver-bell laughter, but a cruel cackle.
‘Can you make me live for a hundred years?’ he asked.
‘What on earth do you mean, sir?’ She tried not to seem hurt, but in truth she was.
‘It’s written here,’ he said and picked up the note. ‘“Meet me in St Louis, February 8th, 2001.”’
‘Two-thousand and one?’ Jenny repeated.
‘A hundred and five years from now.’
‘Perhaps it’s the time of day,’ she said. ‘Perhaps he means one minute past eight in the evening.’ The guest read the message again.
‘No,’ he said finally. ‘That’s not like Fitz.’ Jenny looked at him in surprise.
‘But I thought you didn’t remember...’ He looked up in confusion, surprised with what he had said.
‘I don’t know where that came from,’ he admitted. The sharpness was gone now, and his eyes were brimming with tears. ‘What am I to do?’ he whispered.
‘Oh - don’t cry, sir,’ Jenny said awkwardly and found a clean handkerchief in her pocket. She hesitated, but gave it to him all the same. He accepted it, evidently not realising how strange this situation - a gentleman crying, and the maid offering him a handkerchief - was. She looked away for a few moments, eager to leave but duty-bound to stay. Finally she turned back.
‘I came to tell you that luncheon is served, sir,’ she explained, ‘but if you’re feeling poorly...’ He shook his head, sniffed a little and stood.
‘Thank you, Jenny. I wouldn’t want to disappoint Madame Vastra.’ He left the library, and Jenny hurried after him. When she entered the dining-room with the food, she caught Vastra’s eye and indicated their guest carefully, to explain the delay. Her mistress gave an almost imperceptible nod, and followed her gaze.
‘Are you quite well, sir?’ she asked. Their guest did look rather unhealthy. He had been very pale ever since Jenny handed him the items from his pockets. As she served him, she noticed that he was still clutching the black cube in his hand.
‘Perfectly well, Madame Vastra. Simply distracted. But it’s nothing to upset yourself about, I assure you.’ He said all this in such a flat tone that it sounded almost pre-rehearsed.
Jenny half expected the guest to suddenly get up and leave, but if he regretted his decision to have luncheon in Vastra’s presence, he did not attempt to rectify it. However, he was himself not very good company, but sat silent. The few times Vastra tried to strike up a conversation, his answers were short and disjointed. So luncheon became an awkward, short affair. When Vastra left the table, thanking her guest for his company, he half-rose in respect, but then sat down again, staring into the void.
‘Can I clear the table, sir, or shall I come back later?’ Jenny asked. He shook himself, as if he had been half asleep, and made a gesture over the table to tell her to go ahead. She piled the dishes on the tea trolley and took it to the kitchen, glad to be out of there. As the water for dishing was warmed on the stove, she piled the dishes onto the work-bench, revelling in the clatter. She moved the iron pans over as well and pushed the cutlery into the sink with a clang. It was then she sensed that there was someone else there. At once, she spun around, ready to defend herself. The guest was standing in the doorway, his hands clasped in front of him. He must have noticed her tenseness, because he unclasped his hands and raised them to show that he meant no harm. As he did so, he smiled just a little, his exuberant self peeking out from behind the miserable mask.
‘I’m sorry I startled you,’ he said and let his hands fall.
‘You didn’t, sir,’ Jenny said. ‘What can I do for you?’
He shrugged.
‘Allow me to speak to you.’
By now, she was no longer surprised by answers like this.
‘Of course, sir.’
The guest sighed and pulled his fingers through his wild curls, trying to smooth them out of his eyes.
‘I apologise for the way I behaved in the library,’ he said finally. ‘And... in general. I unnerve you.’ Jenny stared at him, not knowing what to say. It was true, of course, but she did not like it being put so bluntly. She decided to be blunt back.
‘Well, if you’ll pardon me for speaking out of turn, sir, you don’t behave like most gentlemen would.’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘You mean I am not a gentleman?’
‘That you are, sir, but not an ordinary one.’ That made him smile.
‘I don’t know if I would like to be ordinary.’
‘No, sir, I don’t expect you would,’ she said tersely. His smile lasted a little longer now, before going out, his graveness coming back.
‘I know that you’re frightened, Jenny. I can understand that.’
‘What is that supposed to mean, sir?’ she asked. ‘If you are planning to assault me, be aware that I can defend myself.’
‘Yes, I know that. Those swords had been trained with, I noticed,’ he said very calmly. ‘Perhaps actually used. That is not an allegation of any crime, of course... Merely an observation.’
‘I simply meant that I am standing by a sinkful of cutting knives, sir.’ He smiled again.
‘You know full well that I am not here to assault you.’
‘Really, sir?’ But he was right. She was unsettled by him, but it was not because of any physical threat. It was still that alienness about him. Even for a non-human, he was so obviously different. At least now, when she knew that he was Gallifreyan, it made a little more sense. He had the same kind of understated and seemingly unconscious majestic bearing that the Doctor had between his moments of silliness. Actually, the guest had those too, if in a slightly different way.
‘I envy you, Jenny,’ he admitted now. ‘You seem content. I doubt I was ever content. Some people think contentedness is dull - some kind of trap people get stuck in - but they do not realise the peace it must bring.’ He looked around the kitchen. ‘Come to think of it, I might have been one of those people once. Possibly I still am. I don’t know.’
‘You can’t be content if you don’t allow yoruself to be,’ Jenny said, but she could not see him ever allowing himself such a thing, given his mercurial temperament.
‘That is true,’ he conceded. ‘I admire you devotion to Madame Vastra - and her devotion to you. It is an uncommon thing, to find such companionship.’ Jenny looked up at him. Now she was completely certain that he knew the true nature of their relationship, but he did not seem bothered by it, or even find it remarkable.
‘I’ve been fortunate,’ she said and shrugged, not really knowing what else to say.
‘I can’t pretend I do not envy you that as well,’ the guest said. ‘I wonder if I ever had such a devoted friend.’
‘Well, the man who wrote that note - Fitz - must care for you,’ Jenny pointed out. ‘Otherwise he would not have asked you to meet him.’ The guest nodded slowly.
‘I just wish I knew,’ he murmured.
‘Of course you do, sir,’ she said, ‘but you’ll remember in due course. And if you do not, you will find out when you see him.’
‘A century from now,’ he said, and then, suddenly, smiled. ‘And why not? It shouldn’t be impossible. And I’ll never live that long if I don’t put some effort into it.’
‘There’s your answer, sir,’ Jenny said. ‘It’s all to pique your interest. Keep you on your toes.’ This time he smiled right at her, with his eyes as well as his mouth.
‘Tell me,’ he said and, putting his hand in his pocket, stepped closer. ‘What do you make of this?’ The cube from his coat pocket was sitting in his palm. Jenny looked at it closely where it lay in his hand. It was about an inch squared, with no mark on it. Its surface was completely black, with no marks or blemishes.
‘May I touch it?’ she asked, realising just as she spoke that it was an absurd question. Even if the cube was in his possession, it was just a thing, but she felt the need to ask permission, as if she was touching a part of his body. His fingers closed momentarily over it, reluctant to let it go. Then, with visible effort, he opened his hand.
‘Yes - of course.’ She picked it up by her fingertips, aware of the guest watching her.
‘It’s very light,’ she observed. ‘I’d expected it to be heavier. It might be hollow, but it doesn’t open. It could be one of those Chinese boxes, but I can’t see any groves.’ She turned it around and looked up at him. ‘It’s so polished, it looks almost like jet, but it’s too light for that. Could it be made of ebony, or bone?’ At the last word, he flinched visibly. ‘Is anything the matter?’
‘Bone,’ he murmured and looked at the cube. ‘For a moment... it made sense. And then, I found the notion repulsive.’
‘Repulsive?’ she repeated. It was such a strong word. Perhaps he found the idea overly morbid, but this was a man who happily discussed skin diseases at the dinner table. She would not expect him to be so disturbed by the idea of something being made from bone. It was not like it was an uncommon material.
‘I don’t know why,’ he said and shrugged. ‘What else?’ She put her palm against the box’s side. It was warm, and made her skin feel strange. Perhaps it had been warmed by its owner’s hand - he had been clutching it throughout luncheon, and before that too. But he was colder than a human, and the cube felt about the same temperature as her.
‘It’s warm,’ she said, and almost added, like it’s alive. She had a ridiculous impression that the cube was pulsing with life. Quickly, she handed it back. The guest enclosed it in his hands.
‘Bone wouldn’t be this warm,’ he observed.
‘No.’ They looked at each other, neither of them knowing what else to do.
‘I could take it to Madame Vastra’s laboratory, if you wanted me to,’ she suggested. The guest shook his head so violently that his curls flew around his face.
‘No - thank you. I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.’ It was obvious that that was not the reason at all, but she nodded all the same.
‘It must have belonged to you, before you lost your memories,’ she said. ‘If it didn’t make its way into your pockets on the train, or in the ‘ospital...’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ he said, looking at it where it sat on his palms. ‘I can’t recall noticing it before, but... there is something familiar about it. It must have been mine.’
‘I think it’s true what they say, sir, that patience is a virtue.’
‘Yes,’ he said and smiled. ‘But I don’t think I’m very good at it.’ She smiled back. She had noticed. He turned to leave, and then stopped in the door, turning back.
‘Was there anything else, sir?’ Jenny asked. He looked worried again, a frown lining his face.
‘I’m frightened too,’ he admitted. ‘I know so very little, Jenny. My mind feels like it’s shrouded, and I can’t uncover it. And the few things I do know...’ He shut his eyes tightly. ‘They keep going round and round my head. If I’m not mad already, I think this whirling will drive me insane.’
‘What kind of things, sir?’ Jenny asked.
‘“Doctor”,’ he said. ‘That word - “the Doctor”. It won’t let go.’ Slowly, he opened his eyes. ‘I don’t know what it means.’ Jenny thought she did, and wished she did not. It was not right to have this advantage. But she could not tell him.
‘You should rest, sir,’ she said. ‘You’ve been very upset - you must be tired.’ He exhaled and rubbed his face.
‘I’ll go for a walk,’ he announced. ‘And then, perhaps, I might sleep. Yes, I am tired. But not exhausted. I need to walk, and think.’
‘Go for a walk, then, and I will make you some tea when you come back.’ He smiled gratefully and waved at her as he left the kitchen. The box was still in his hand as he did so.
***
The afternoon was calmer than the morning. She helped Madame Vastra compile her notes for the current case. They had tea together in the study, working at a leisurely pace. Vastra suspected that the culprit was the leading lady, whose career had been wrecked in the shockwaves of the actor’s scandal, but they knew that they could not be certain until tomorrow, when Vastra could interview her again. When the guest came back from his walk, which had taken the best part of two hours, he had his tea in the dining room, and then moved to the library where he dozed at the window, the cat curled up in his lap. Jenny sensed that his stay was coming to an end.
She was proven right at dinner, just as she was serving the meat.
‘I am very grateful that you allowed me to stay in your house, Madame Vastra, despite everything,’ he said.
‘And I am glad to have made your acquiantance, sir. It has been an an intriguing experience,’ Vastra answered and smiled behind her veil.
‘Quite,’ he said and smiled too. ‘Nevertheless, I have decided to leave tomorrow morning.’ Vastra straightened her posture, as if preparing for this discussion.
‘You are welcome to stay longer...’
‘Thank you, Madame Vastra, and I do appreciate it, but I feel I cannot impose on you any longer.’
‘Rest assured, you are not imposing,’ Vastra said. ‘Your company has been refreshing. Besides... is it really wise to leave?’
‘In light of my loss of memory, you mean?’
‘Yes. Would it not be better to stay a little longer?’
But he shook his head.
‘I could not. It’s been over a week since I woke on that train now, and I have not recovered anything of my previous life. If I wait to get better, and allow myself to convalesce, I could put off my departure indefinitely. And as lovely as your home is, madame Vastra, I need to see the world outside these walls - outside this city. If I can find where I came from, perhaps I will remember.’
Vastra nodded.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I understand.’
He smiled.
‘I am glad to hear it. Now, let us speak of other matters, other than my departure.’ He raised his wine glass, and she did the same. ‘Your health, Madame Vastra.’
‘And yours, sir.’
***
Jenny woke the next morning with a mixture of sadness and relief. She slipped out of bed without waking Vastra, who was still hissing lightly in her sleep. When she had dressed, she gently shook her mistress awake.
‘It’s morning, ma’am,’ she whispered. ‘You’d better wake, so you can give the gentleman the Doctor’s envelope.’ Vastra sat up with a sigh.
‘Of course,’ she murmured and climbed out of bed. Jenny helped her into her corset and bustle, and then left for the kitchen to start preparing breakfast. Just when she was laying the table, the guest came into the dining room. It took her a moment to identify the feeling which lit up his face - excitement.
‘Good morning, Jenny.’
‘Good morning, sir,’ she said. ‘The tea’s just ready...’ On her way to the kitchen, she saw Vastra descending the stairs. They caught each other’s eyes and smiled.
Vastra and the guest breakfasted in silence, while Jenny had her tea and toast in the kitchen. When the bell rang, she hurried to clear the table and prepare some food for their strange friend. She heard his running footsteps on the stairs now. Madame Vastra’s more dignified descent followed. Jenny came out of the kitchen with some sandwiches wrapped in paper and a flask of tea. When the guest caught sight of it, he looked surprised but pleased.
‘Is that for me?’
‘Of course, sir,’ she said and handed them to him. ‘And here’s a string bag to carry it in. Not very grand, but...’
‘No, this is grand. I don’t know if anyone’s ever made me sandwiches. Even if someone has, I’m none the wiser.’ She laughed, and to her surprise found tears stinging in her eyes. He must have seen it, because he took her hands and kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you, Jenny. You’ve been marvellous.’
‘I’m glad you ended up at our back door,’ she said.
‘Perhaps I will do that again,’ he replied.
‘And you will be welcome, of course,’ Vastra said. ‘This is for you. Not from myself, but...someone else.’ She held out the letter which had been left in her care. Intrigued, he took it and opened it. He frowned, but looked pleased.
‘Madame Vastra...’
‘As I said, it is not from me. It is from a philanthropist, who has your best interests at heart.’ He laughed.
‘What is it?’ Jenny asked, eager to find out. He reached into the envelope and picked up a small key.
‘There’s a note,’ he explained and took it up. ‘“This key is for a safety deposit box at Barclay, Bevan and Co. on 54 Lombard Street. Use the money within wisely. It needs to last for a long time.” Strange...’
‘But lucky,’ Jenny said.
‘Absolutely.’ Smiling, he closed the envelope again and put it into his inside pocket before turning to Vastra. ‘Thank you, Madame Vastra, as my hostess and my well-doer’s messenger.’ They shook hands, and then he kissed Vastra’s gloved knuckles as well. He turned and opened the door.
‘Don’t forget your coat, sir,’ Jenny reminded him and took the coat off its hanger. The guest looked at it briefly and said:
‘Keep it. I don’t think it’s mine, actually. Besides, I can afford a new coat now.’ He almost turned to go, but stopped on the threshold. ‘Oh - yes. I forgot to tell you. I remembered something.’
‘Really?’ said Vastra.
‘What?’ Jenny asked.
‘That word which kept going round my head, Jenny,’ he explained and laughed, delighted at the realisation. ‘It’s about me. I’m the Doctor.’
And with that, he waved and bounded down the steps, leaving them staring after him in surprise.
***
The next few weeks were spent in a state of confusion. Jenny and Vastra would lie awake at night and ask questions of ‘how?’, ‘why?’, even ‘when?’ They discussed regeneration and how it worked, and the complexities of time. Reminiscing about everything the Doctor they knew so well had ever said, and the few things that the man who had been the Doctor all along had remembered, they tried to piece together a causality, but were at a loss. Life went on much as before, with cases being investigated and solved, but the sense of wonderment remained. Strax had announced that they had both taken leave of their senses, and refused to understand how the man who had been their guest in his absence could possibly be the Doctor.
Then one bright morning some two weeks after the Gallifreyan guest’s departure, the doorbell rang. Strax was out tending to the horse, so Jenny left her darning in the kitchen, and went to answer the door. When it swung open, she gasped with delight.
‘Doctor!’
‘Hallo!’ the Doctor answered, leaping into the hall. He looked like he usually did, tall and pipe cleaner-thin, with an unruly fringe which fell into his eyes, even under the battered top hat he was wearing.
‘Ma’am, ‘e’s ‘ere!’ Jenny called into the house. ‘Oh, Doctor, we’ve waited so long...’
‘Well, I’m here now!’ he said and spread his hands, like a music-hall actor receiving applause. ‘Any chance for some tea? Haven’t had any for days. The TARDIS ran out - I always thought the jars were self-filling, but it turns out they just keep it fresh for a very long time...’
When tea had been brewed and (on the Doctor’s insistence) Pontefract cakes produced, the three of them sat down in the conservatory. The Doctor munched happily on his liquorice while mistress and maid exchanged looks to try to decide who was to approach the subject. Finally, Vastra said:
‘Last time we met, you told us to expect a.... visitor.’
‘Yes, I did,’ the Doctor said and sipped his tea.
‘He was here last month,’ Vastra said, and Jenny added:
‘Or rather, you were.’
The Doctor put down his cup and saucer. For the first time since he came through the door, he was actually paying attention to them, and he looked very pleased.
‘As I remember it, it went pretty well,’ he said. ‘You were very kind, even if I wasn’t on my best behaviour.’
‘We don’t understand, Doctor,’ said Jenny. ‘That was you... an earlier you?’
‘Yes. I had a different face back then.’
‘And the envelope with the key?’ Vastra asked. The Doctor looked a little embarrassed.
‘A causality loop,’ he admitted. ‘It’s best to avoid them, but these things happen when you’re a time-traveller.’
‘You received the envelope with key and the note back then, and then when you met us, you fixed safety deposit box and ‘anded the key to Madame Vastra, so that she could ‘and it to you, so that you could receive it,’ Jenny said. It made her feel a little dizzy.
‘I always wondered who that strange philanthropist you mentioned was,’ he said. ‘Then, last time I was here, it struck me that it must have been me all along.’ He grinned now. ‘So it turned out that I hadn’t accepted charity after all. The money was mine all along.’
Vastra seemed to ponder something.
‘What’s the matter, ma’am?’ Jenny asked. Vastra shook her head, to show her not to worry.
‘I was remembering my first meeting with the Doctor,’ she explained and turned to look at him. ‘When we met, in the tunnels under London, and you stopped me from killing those humans who had massacred my sisters... you were so adamant that I could live among humans...’
‘...Because I had already seen you do it,’ the Doctor filled in. ‘Yes, Vastra. The first time you met me was not the first time I met you. It’s a very bad habit, by the way - makes things very confusing. But at least this time, I didn’t really know who you were that first time. Not that I wasn’t suspicious - I remember thinking, quite distinctly, that that skin disease my hostess claimed she had would still not change her voice like that. When we came face to face in that tunnel, I knew at once that it was you. I remembered that strange lady who had taken me in...and I knew that she was that Silurian standing in front of me.’
‘And you engineered for me to end up here?’ Vastra asked.
‘Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Vastra,’ the Doctor sighed. ‘I didn’t push you into this. Your timestream was taking you here anyway. I knew that, because I’d seen you live this life before. I just encouraged you.’
‘Very well,’ Vastra said and sipped her tea. Jenny thought that despite her grave tone, she looked rather pleased. Perhaps it was simply knowing the truth that did it, or recalling the look of recognition in the Doctor’s face the first time they met, but Jenny secretly thought that it was probably pleasure at knowing that this reality was so certain, even predestined. Then Jenny’s thoughts returned to the strange, confused man she had befriended.
‘Doctor, what ‘ad ‘appened to you?’ she asked. ‘Why did you not remember anything?’
The Doctor sighed and leaned back in his chair. The question seemed to have an uncomfortable answer.
‘I did something. Something horrific, but necessary. I lost everything. There were other reasons too, but part of it was simply... well, I could not endure what had happened, and my mind shattered. So I was sent here to heal.’ When he looked at them again, Jenny thought she saw all the years of his life in his face. It was strange to think that the mature if unconventional man they had taken in was far younger than the boyish Doctor having tea with them now.
‘Did you?’ Vastra asked.
‘Eventually.’
‘Did you really wait until 2001?’ Jenny wondered. The Doctor nodded.
‘It’s the longest I’ve lived in a straight line since I was a young man - by Time Lord standards, that is,’ he said. ‘The money I left for myself sustained me for most of it, and I managed to get through the rest on my ingenuity.’
‘And did you find Fitz - your friend?’ she asked. Now the Doctor’s smile broadened.
‘Yes, I did. He was there where he said he’d be.’ He looked into the distance, lost in the memory. Jenny rose and went into the hall, and returned with the coat that had remained hanging on the door.
‘Fitz’s trench coat,’ the Doctor said, amazed, and took it when Jenny handed it over. He looked completely flabbergasted, his mouth hanging open in surprise. ‘I haven’t seen this in centuries...’ The way he handled the coat made Jenny wonder what had happened to its owner. The Doctor stroked it, inspected the threads and finally buried his nose in it to sniff it. When he lowered it, Jenny thought she saw a tear in the corner of his eye. ‘It still smells of his cigarettes,’ he murmured. ‘In its own timeline, he wore it just a few weeks ago...’ Then he looked up at them. ‘Can I keep it?’
‘It is yours,’ Vastra reminded him.
‘Well, on loan to me,’ he said. ‘Fitz was a little annoyed I hadn’t kept it, even if he knew that keeping the same coat for a hundred years wouldn’t work. I can’t return it to him, but... I can extend my loan indefinitely.’ He folded it carefully and put it in his lap, leaving one hand to rest on it. ‘Thank you for keeping it safe.’ Jenny shrugged, and refilled their cups. When she sat down again and started stirring her tea, she asked:
‘Doctor, that other you - will we meet ‘im again?’
The Doctor grinned over the rim of his teacup.
‘Oh, Jenny. That would be telling, wouldn’t it?’
Fandom Doctor Who (2005-present), Doctor Who: Eighth Doctor Adventures
Pairings Madame Vastra/Jenny Flint, implied Eighth Doctor/Fitz Kreiner
Rating/warnings PG
Spoilers None. Set after The Ancestor Cell, and at some unspecified point in the Paternoster Gang’s timeline.
Word count 14 430
Beta laughinggas13 (thanks!)
Disclaimer I don’t own anything at all.
Summary When Jenny finds an alien stranger outside the house at Paternoster Row, she and Madame Vastra follow instructions the Doctor has given them months in advance: “Take him in. Take care of him. Don’t get anyone else involved.” But the mysterious guest’s stay only leads to more questions. What has made him lose his memory? Why have they been told to keep the existence of alien life from an alien being? And how come the nameless guest reminds Jenny of the Doctor, when he looks nothing like him?
Author’s notes I had tons of fun writing this. This is not actually a multi-parter, but Livejournal won’t let me post it in one entry. If you prefer to read the whole thing in one place, you can found it here at AO3.
Part one can be found here.
Early the next morning, Jenny went to the laundry and picked up the clothes she had left there the day before. Now that they had been washed and mended, they looked considerably better. She hung the strange coat in the hall and delivered the rest to the guest. Soon afterwards, he descended the stairs, once again dressed in his own clothes. There was something Romantic, almost Wildesque over the way he looked. When his long locks had been wet and his fine clothes had been dirty, he had been a sorry sight, but now, he shone, content in at least this outer certainty. He breakfasted with Madame Vastra, who gingerly sipped her tea under her veil. Jenny noticed her watchful eyes on their guest, as though she was trying to decide whether she thought he was dangerous. He seemed oblivious of her study, but ate his breakfast happily and leafed through the morning paper. Was he looking for something which was familiar to him? Jenny wondered. If so, he would probably not find it in a human newspaper.
When they were both done, Jenny took their plates and took them out into the kitchen. It was then, just when she put them down, that she noticed something on the workbench - a featureless black cube, and a small strip of paper. Her stomach somersaulted with the realisation that she had completely forgotten the fact that she had taken those items out of the man’s coat pocket the night he arrived. She took them and almost ran out of the kitchen.
She found the guest in the hall, studying the katanas on the chest of drawers.
‘These are exquisite swords,’ he said, not looking up when she stopped at his side. Carefully, he picked up Vastra’s sword and looked at it closely. ‘Edo period, I should say. Wonderful craftsmanship.’
Seeing her watch him, the guest smiled and put the sword down.
‘I’m sorry, Jenny. What can I do for you?’ Jenny held out the cube and the strip of paper, one in each hand.
‘These were in your pocket, sir.’
His face changed. The smile slid off, and a look between fear and wonder entered his eyes. There was something solemn about the way he took the objects. He looked from one to the other, as if wondering where to begin. Finally, he unfolded the strip of paper. Jenny watched him read it, mouthing the words written there. He looked at whatever was written there, frowning.
‘What is it?’ she asked in a hushed voice.
‘It’s... instructions,’ he said uncertainly. ‘I think.’ He seemed to read it again and then said, not to anyone in particular: ‘Who is Fitz? Am I Fitz?’ He looked at the note again. ‘No, that doesn’t feel right. It’s fromFitz. He must be... someone I know. But who...?’ Then he looked up at Jenny again. His eyes looked suddenly very intense. ‘Do you know anyone called Fitz, Jenny?’
‘No, sir,’ she said, startled. His face softened, and he smiled.
‘No, I guessed not,’ he murmured and looked at the note yet again, his finger moving fractionally, as if to another word. ‘This is strange...’ he murmured and, without another word, started walking towards the library. Jenny was about to address him when she heard Madame Vastra’s voice from above.
‘Jenny!’ She turned and looked up at Vastra, who stood, veiled and half-hidden in shadows on the landing.
‘Yes, ma’am?’
‘I need your help with comparing some fingerprints.’
Jenny glanced in the direction of the library. She had expected their eccentric guest, with his varied knowledge, to turn around and volunteer at the mention of fingerprinting. Instead, he seemed oblivious to what was happening in the hallway, and was still looking at the note. She turned back and hurried upstairs to help Vastra.
Comparing fingerprints was something Jenny always enjoyed, and according to Vastra, she was far better than anyone at Scotland Yard at it. It was still a very new idea, but thanks to their motley team, they were able to use some methods which were not quite contemporary. As Jenny studied some photographs of fingerprints Vastra had found at the scene of the murder of a disgraced actor, the detective herself was inspecting samples of his stage makeup for signs of poison. They worked in silence for the best part of half an hour. As Vastra put aside yet another perfectly harmless jar of powder, she observed:
‘Strax is coming back from Glasgow tomorrow.’
Jenny put her magnifying glass down.
‘What should we do?’
Vastra shrugged.
‘Well, we can’t tell him to stay longer. He has had far too much time off already.’
‘But what about...?’ Jenny jerked her head towards the door.
Vastra pursed her lips.
‘We cannot possibly ask him to leave.’
‘The Doctor did say that he wouldn’t be staying for long,’ Jenny pointed out.
‘A very vague promise,’ Vastra sighed. ‘Well, Strax will have to take a room at the pub if our guest decides to stay longer.’
‘It’s a pity really,’ Jenny said. ‘The Doctor’s orders, I mean. I think ‘e’d make a very good detective’s assistant.’
Vastra smiled.
‘I already have an assistant, my dear.’
‘But you know what I mean. It wouldn’t be too bad, to ‘ave someone else who can pass for human. But if ‘e’s not to meet Strax, or see your face...’
‘Yes. It is quite impossible.’ Vastra leaned over her microscope to look closer at some blusher, but then glanced up at Jenny. ‘What are you thinking, Jenny?’
She leaned back in her chair, considered it for a moment and then spoke.
‘Does the Doctor really expect us to let ‘im leave like ‘e is now?’
‘With no memory, you mean? Perhaps he will regain it soon.’
‘I don’t think so, ma’am,’ Jenny explained. ‘See, ‘e ‘ad a note in ‘is pocket, that night when we found ‘im. It had some kind of instructions.’ Vastra raised her eyebrows, interested, and sat down.
‘And you didn’t read it?’
‘No,’ Jenny said, a little stung. ‘Mind you, it was difficult not to. But it wasn’t an investigation. I didn’t want to stick my nose where it didn’t belong.’ Vastra inclined her head.
‘Of course. But you think that these instructions indicate that he will not remember his identity because...?’
‘To make sure ‘e ‘ad something to look forward to. Some purpose.’
‘Like what?’ Vastra asked. Jenny thought about it.
‘I only looked at it very fast, but it was an invitation. Telling him to meet someone somewhere. There was a name on it - a signature. Fitz.’
Vastra blinked, surprised.
‘I had expected it to be from the Doctor. Perhaps we were wrong after all.’
‘What about that envelope the Doctor left us, though?’ Jenny asked, suddenly remembering. The stranger’s oddness had served to distract her from the ultimate purpose of the Doctor’s instructions.
‘Of course, there is that - but I do not know what is in it. I, like you, can sometimes be discreet.’
‘That could be an explanation!’
‘It is not impossible,’ Vastra said, but she did not sound convinced. ‘However, I think this game is one of time. The Doctor is trying to keep this Time Lord from being... contaminated with knowledge he should not have. He is making us all treat him very carefully.’
‘You mean ‘e’s trying to stop us from interfering with history?’ Jenny asked.
‘Yes, exactly.’
‘Still,’ she said. ‘I’m worried. I can’t ‘elp feeling that he’s not really right in the ‘ead.’
‘You mean you think he’s insane?’
‘I don’t know,’ Jenny said and picked up her magnifying glass again. ‘But if I didn’t know who I was, I’d be scared to death.’
They worked for another hour, until Jenny had to stop and go down to prepare luncheon. As she passed through the hall, she listened for sounds from the library, but heard nothing. She told herself that there was no need to worry, and that she should not disturb him for no reason. Keeping that in mind, she went about preparing the meal and laying the table as if nothing was amiss.
When the preparations were finished, she first went to tell Vastra luncheon was served, and then ran downstairs. Probably he was just reading quietly, she told herself, but unbidden, other suggestions presented themselves. What if he had made some awful discovery through that note? What if he had escaped through the window, and left without the Doctor’s envelope? What if he had come to some harm?
She stopped in the doorway, her imaginings cut short by what she saw. The guest was sitting with an atlas in front of him and the note laid out on top of it, rolling the black cube between his hands, watching it move. His eyes were red from crying. Jenny took a step towards him.
‘Is everything alright, sir?’ she asked. He did not react. ‘Were you able to make some sense out of it?’ Now, he sighed and put down the cube.
‘St Louis,’ he said, pronouncing it in French. ‘Or St Louis, if it is in America. That is where I am supposed to meet him.’
‘Your friend?’
‘Yes, I assume Fitz is my friend,’ he said, looking at the note. ‘I just don’t know if I am reading it correctly. The date...’ He traced it with his fingers. ‘It makes no sense.’ Jenny came closer.
‘Can I help somehow, sir?’
The guest laughed, not his previous, silver-bell laughter, but a cruel cackle.
‘Can you make me live for a hundred years?’ he asked.
‘What on earth do you mean, sir?’ She tried not to seem hurt, but in truth she was.
‘It’s written here,’ he said and picked up the note. ‘“Meet me in St Louis, February 8th, 2001.”’
‘Two-thousand and one?’ Jenny repeated.
‘A hundred and five years from now.’
‘Perhaps it’s the time of day,’ she said. ‘Perhaps he means one minute past eight in the evening.’ The guest read the message again.
‘No,’ he said finally. ‘That’s not like Fitz.’ Jenny looked at him in surprise.
‘But I thought you didn’t remember...’ He looked up in confusion, surprised with what he had said.
‘I don’t know where that came from,’ he admitted. The sharpness was gone now, and his eyes were brimming with tears. ‘What am I to do?’ he whispered.
‘Oh - don’t cry, sir,’ Jenny said awkwardly and found a clean handkerchief in her pocket. She hesitated, but gave it to him all the same. He accepted it, evidently not realising how strange this situation - a gentleman crying, and the maid offering him a handkerchief - was. She looked away for a few moments, eager to leave but duty-bound to stay. Finally she turned back.
‘I came to tell you that luncheon is served, sir,’ she explained, ‘but if you’re feeling poorly...’ He shook his head, sniffed a little and stood.
‘Thank you, Jenny. I wouldn’t want to disappoint Madame Vastra.’ He left the library, and Jenny hurried after him. When she entered the dining-room with the food, she caught Vastra’s eye and indicated their guest carefully, to explain the delay. Her mistress gave an almost imperceptible nod, and followed her gaze.
‘Are you quite well, sir?’ she asked. Their guest did look rather unhealthy. He had been very pale ever since Jenny handed him the items from his pockets. As she served him, she noticed that he was still clutching the black cube in his hand.
‘Perfectly well, Madame Vastra. Simply distracted. But it’s nothing to upset yourself about, I assure you.’ He said all this in such a flat tone that it sounded almost pre-rehearsed.
Jenny half expected the guest to suddenly get up and leave, but if he regretted his decision to have luncheon in Vastra’s presence, he did not attempt to rectify it. However, he was himself not very good company, but sat silent. The few times Vastra tried to strike up a conversation, his answers were short and disjointed. So luncheon became an awkward, short affair. When Vastra left the table, thanking her guest for his company, he half-rose in respect, but then sat down again, staring into the void.
‘Can I clear the table, sir, or shall I come back later?’ Jenny asked. He shook himself, as if he had been half asleep, and made a gesture over the table to tell her to go ahead. She piled the dishes on the tea trolley and took it to the kitchen, glad to be out of there. As the water for dishing was warmed on the stove, she piled the dishes onto the work-bench, revelling in the clatter. She moved the iron pans over as well and pushed the cutlery into the sink with a clang. It was then she sensed that there was someone else there. At once, she spun around, ready to defend herself. The guest was standing in the doorway, his hands clasped in front of him. He must have noticed her tenseness, because he unclasped his hands and raised them to show that he meant no harm. As he did so, he smiled just a little, his exuberant self peeking out from behind the miserable mask.
‘I’m sorry I startled you,’ he said and let his hands fall.
‘You didn’t, sir,’ Jenny said. ‘What can I do for you?’
He shrugged.
‘Allow me to speak to you.’
By now, she was no longer surprised by answers like this.
‘Of course, sir.’
The guest sighed and pulled his fingers through his wild curls, trying to smooth them out of his eyes.
‘I apologise for the way I behaved in the library,’ he said finally. ‘And... in general. I unnerve you.’ Jenny stared at him, not knowing what to say. It was true, of course, but she did not like it being put so bluntly. She decided to be blunt back.
‘Well, if you’ll pardon me for speaking out of turn, sir, you don’t behave like most gentlemen would.’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘You mean I am not a gentleman?’
‘That you are, sir, but not an ordinary one.’ That made him smile.
‘I don’t know if I would like to be ordinary.’
‘No, sir, I don’t expect you would,’ she said tersely. His smile lasted a little longer now, before going out, his graveness coming back.
‘I know that you’re frightened, Jenny. I can understand that.’
‘What is that supposed to mean, sir?’ she asked. ‘If you are planning to assault me, be aware that I can defend myself.’
‘Yes, I know that. Those swords had been trained with, I noticed,’ he said very calmly. ‘Perhaps actually used. That is not an allegation of any crime, of course... Merely an observation.’
‘I simply meant that I am standing by a sinkful of cutting knives, sir.’ He smiled again.
‘You know full well that I am not here to assault you.’
‘Really, sir?’ But he was right. She was unsettled by him, but it was not because of any physical threat. It was still that alienness about him. Even for a non-human, he was so obviously different. At least now, when she knew that he was Gallifreyan, it made a little more sense. He had the same kind of understated and seemingly unconscious majestic bearing that the Doctor had between his moments of silliness. Actually, the guest had those too, if in a slightly different way.
‘I envy you, Jenny,’ he admitted now. ‘You seem content. I doubt I was ever content. Some people think contentedness is dull - some kind of trap people get stuck in - but they do not realise the peace it must bring.’ He looked around the kitchen. ‘Come to think of it, I might have been one of those people once. Possibly I still am. I don’t know.’
‘You can’t be content if you don’t allow yoruself to be,’ Jenny said, but she could not see him ever allowing himself such a thing, given his mercurial temperament.
‘That is true,’ he conceded. ‘I admire you devotion to Madame Vastra - and her devotion to you. It is an uncommon thing, to find such companionship.’ Jenny looked up at him. Now she was completely certain that he knew the true nature of their relationship, but he did not seem bothered by it, or even find it remarkable.
‘I’ve been fortunate,’ she said and shrugged, not really knowing what else to say.
‘I can’t pretend I do not envy you that as well,’ the guest said. ‘I wonder if I ever had such a devoted friend.’
‘Well, the man who wrote that note - Fitz - must care for you,’ Jenny pointed out. ‘Otherwise he would not have asked you to meet him.’ The guest nodded slowly.
‘I just wish I knew,’ he murmured.
‘Of course you do, sir,’ she said, ‘but you’ll remember in due course. And if you do not, you will find out when you see him.’
‘A century from now,’ he said, and then, suddenly, smiled. ‘And why not? It shouldn’t be impossible. And I’ll never live that long if I don’t put some effort into it.’
‘There’s your answer, sir,’ Jenny said. ‘It’s all to pique your interest. Keep you on your toes.’ This time he smiled right at her, with his eyes as well as his mouth.
‘Tell me,’ he said and, putting his hand in his pocket, stepped closer. ‘What do you make of this?’ The cube from his coat pocket was sitting in his palm. Jenny looked at it closely where it lay in his hand. It was about an inch squared, with no mark on it. Its surface was completely black, with no marks or blemishes.
‘May I touch it?’ she asked, realising just as she spoke that it was an absurd question. Even if the cube was in his possession, it was just a thing, but she felt the need to ask permission, as if she was touching a part of his body. His fingers closed momentarily over it, reluctant to let it go. Then, with visible effort, he opened his hand.
‘Yes - of course.’ She picked it up by her fingertips, aware of the guest watching her.
‘It’s very light,’ she observed. ‘I’d expected it to be heavier. It might be hollow, but it doesn’t open. It could be one of those Chinese boxes, but I can’t see any groves.’ She turned it around and looked up at him. ‘It’s so polished, it looks almost like jet, but it’s too light for that. Could it be made of ebony, or bone?’ At the last word, he flinched visibly. ‘Is anything the matter?’
‘Bone,’ he murmured and looked at the cube. ‘For a moment... it made sense. And then, I found the notion repulsive.’
‘Repulsive?’ she repeated. It was such a strong word. Perhaps he found the idea overly morbid, but this was a man who happily discussed skin diseases at the dinner table. She would not expect him to be so disturbed by the idea of something being made from bone. It was not like it was an uncommon material.
‘I don’t know why,’ he said and shrugged. ‘What else?’ She put her palm against the box’s side. It was warm, and made her skin feel strange. Perhaps it had been warmed by its owner’s hand - he had been clutching it throughout luncheon, and before that too. But he was colder than a human, and the cube felt about the same temperature as her.
‘It’s warm,’ she said, and almost added, like it’s alive. She had a ridiculous impression that the cube was pulsing with life. Quickly, she handed it back. The guest enclosed it in his hands.
‘Bone wouldn’t be this warm,’ he observed.
‘No.’ They looked at each other, neither of them knowing what else to do.
‘I could take it to Madame Vastra’s laboratory, if you wanted me to,’ she suggested. The guest shook his head so violently that his curls flew around his face.
‘No - thank you. I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.’ It was obvious that that was not the reason at all, but she nodded all the same.
‘It must have belonged to you, before you lost your memories,’ she said. ‘If it didn’t make its way into your pockets on the train, or in the ‘ospital...’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ he said, looking at it where it sat on his palms. ‘I can’t recall noticing it before, but... there is something familiar about it. It must have been mine.’
‘I think it’s true what they say, sir, that patience is a virtue.’
‘Yes,’ he said and smiled. ‘But I don’t think I’m very good at it.’ She smiled back. She had noticed. He turned to leave, and then stopped in the door, turning back.
‘Was there anything else, sir?’ Jenny asked. He looked worried again, a frown lining his face.
‘I’m frightened too,’ he admitted. ‘I know so very little, Jenny. My mind feels like it’s shrouded, and I can’t uncover it. And the few things I do know...’ He shut his eyes tightly. ‘They keep going round and round my head. If I’m not mad already, I think this whirling will drive me insane.’
‘What kind of things, sir?’ Jenny asked.
‘“Doctor”,’ he said. ‘That word - “the Doctor”. It won’t let go.’ Slowly, he opened his eyes. ‘I don’t know what it means.’ Jenny thought she did, and wished she did not. It was not right to have this advantage. But she could not tell him.
‘You should rest, sir,’ she said. ‘You’ve been very upset - you must be tired.’ He exhaled and rubbed his face.
‘I’ll go for a walk,’ he announced. ‘And then, perhaps, I might sleep. Yes, I am tired. But not exhausted. I need to walk, and think.’
‘Go for a walk, then, and I will make you some tea when you come back.’ He smiled gratefully and waved at her as he left the kitchen. The box was still in his hand as he did so.
***
The afternoon was calmer than the morning. She helped Madame Vastra compile her notes for the current case. They had tea together in the study, working at a leisurely pace. Vastra suspected that the culprit was the leading lady, whose career had been wrecked in the shockwaves of the actor’s scandal, but they knew that they could not be certain until tomorrow, when Vastra could interview her again. When the guest came back from his walk, which had taken the best part of two hours, he had his tea in the dining room, and then moved to the library where he dozed at the window, the cat curled up in his lap. Jenny sensed that his stay was coming to an end.
She was proven right at dinner, just as she was serving the meat.
‘I am very grateful that you allowed me to stay in your house, Madame Vastra, despite everything,’ he said.
‘And I am glad to have made your acquiantance, sir. It has been an an intriguing experience,’ Vastra answered and smiled behind her veil.
‘Quite,’ he said and smiled too. ‘Nevertheless, I have decided to leave tomorrow morning.’ Vastra straightened her posture, as if preparing for this discussion.
‘You are welcome to stay longer...’
‘Thank you, Madame Vastra, and I do appreciate it, but I feel I cannot impose on you any longer.’
‘Rest assured, you are not imposing,’ Vastra said. ‘Your company has been refreshing. Besides... is it really wise to leave?’
‘In light of my loss of memory, you mean?’
‘Yes. Would it not be better to stay a little longer?’
But he shook his head.
‘I could not. It’s been over a week since I woke on that train now, and I have not recovered anything of my previous life. If I wait to get better, and allow myself to convalesce, I could put off my departure indefinitely. And as lovely as your home is, madame Vastra, I need to see the world outside these walls - outside this city. If I can find where I came from, perhaps I will remember.’
Vastra nodded.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I understand.’
He smiled.
‘I am glad to hear it. Now, let us speak of other matters, other than my departure.’ He raised his wine glass, and she did the same. ‘Your health, Madame Vastra.’
‘And yours, sir.’
***
Jenny woke the next morning with a mixture of sadness and relief. She slipped out of bed without waking Vastra, who was still hissing lightly in her sleep. When she had dressed, she gently shook her mistress awake.
‘It’s morning, ma’am,’ she whispered. ‘You’d better wake, so you can give the gentleman the Doctor’s envelope.’ Vastra sat up with a sigh.
‘Of course,’ she murmured and climbed out of bed. Jenny helped her into her corset and bustle, and then left for the kitchen to start preparing breakfast. Just when she was laying the table, the guest came into the dining room. It took her a moment to identify the feeling which lit up his face - excitement.
‘Good morning, Jenny.’
‘Good morning, sir,’ she said. ‘The tea’s just ready...’ On her way to the kitchen, she saw Vastra descending the stairs. They caught each other’s eyes and smiled.
Vastra and the guest breakfasted in silence, while Jenny had her tea and toast in the kitchen. When the bell rang, she hurried to clear the table and prepare some food for their strange friend. She heard his running footsteps on the stairs now. Madame Vastra’s more dignified descent followed. Jenny came out of the kitchen with some sandwiches wrapped in paper and a flask of tea. When the guest caught sight of it, he looked surprised but pleased.
‘Is that for me?’
‘Of course, sir,’ she said and handed them to him. ‘And here’s a string bag to carry it in. Not very grand, but...’
‘No, this is grand. I don’t know if anyone’s ever made me sandwiches. Even if someone has, I’m none the wiser.’ She laughed, and to her surprise found tears stinging in her eyes. He must have seen it, because he took her hands and kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you, Jenny. You’ve been marvellous.’
‘I’m glad you ended up at our back door,’ she said.
‘Perhaps I will do that again,’ he replied.
‘And you will be welcome, of course,’ Vastra said. ‘This is for you. Not from myself, but...someone else.’ She held out the letter which had been left in her care. Intrigued, he took it and opened it. He frowned, but looked pleased.
‘Madame Vastra...’
‘As I said, it is not from me. It is from a philanthropist, who has your best interests at heart.’ He laughed.
‘What is it?’ Jenny asked, eager to find out. He reached into the envelope and picked up a small key.
‘There’s a note,’ he explained and took it up. ‘“This key is for a safety deposit box at Barclay, Bevan and Co. on 54 Lombard Street. Use the money within wisely. It needs to last for a long time.” Strange...’
‘But lucky,’ Jenny said.
‘Absolutely.’ Smiling, he closed the envelope again and put it into his inside pocket before turning to Vastra. ‘Thank you, Madame Vastra, as my hostess and my well-doer’s messenger.’ They shook hands, and then he kissed Vastra’s gloved knuckles as well. He turned and opened the door.
‘Don’t forget your coat, sir,’ Jenny reminded him and took the coat off its hanger. The guest looked at it briefly and said:
‘Keep it. I don’t think it’s mine, actually. Besides, I can afford a new coat now.’ He almost turned to go, but stopped on the threshold. ‘Oh - yes. I forgot to tell you. I remembered something.’
‘Really?’ said Vastra.
‘What?’ Jenny asked.
‘That word which kept going round my head, Jenny,’ he explained and laughed, delighted at the realisation. ‘It’s about me. I’m the Doctor.’
And with that, he waved and bounded down the steps, leaving them staring after him in surprise.
***
The next few weeks were spent in a state of confusion. Jenny and Vastra would lie awake at night and ask questions of ‘how?’, ‘why?’, even ‘when?’ They discussed regeneration and how it worked, and the complexities of time. Reminiscing about everything the Doctor they knew so well had ever said, and the few things that the man who had been the Doctor all along had remembered, they tried to piece together a causality, but were at a loss. Life went on much as before, with cases being investigated and solved, but the sense of wonderment remained. Strax had announced that they had both taken leave of their senses, and refused to understand how the man who had been their guest in his absence could possibly be the Doctor.
Then one bright morning some two weeks after the Gallifreyan guest’s departure, the doorbell rang. Strax was out tending to the horse, so Jenny left her darning in the kitchen, and went to answer the door. When it swung open, she gasped with delight.
‘Doctor!’
‘Hallo!’ the Doctor answered, leaping into the hall. He looked like he usually did, tall and pipe cleaner-thin, with an unruly fringe which fell into his eyes, even under the battered top hat he was wearing.
‘Ma’am, ‘e’s ‘ere!’ Jenny called into the house. ‘Oh, Doctor, we’ve waited so long...’
‘Well, I’m here now!’ he said and spread his hands, like a music-hall actor receiving applause. ‘Any chance for some tea? Haven’t had any for days. The TARDIS ran out - I always thought the jars were self-filling, but it turns out they just keep it fresh for a very long time...’
When tea had been brewed and (on the Doctor’s insistence) Pontefract cakes produced, the three of them sat down in the conservatory. The Doctor munched happily on his liquorice while mistress and maid exchanged looks to try to decide who was to approach the subject. Finally, Vastra said:
‘Last time we met, you told us to expect a.... visitor.’
‘Yes, I did,’ the Doctor said and sipped his tea.
‘He was here last month,’ Vastra said, and Jenny added:
‘Or rather, you were.’
The Doctor put down his cup and saucer. For the first time since he came through the door, he was actually paying attention to them, and he looked very pleased.
‘As I remember it, it went pretty well,’ he said. ‘You were very kind, even if I wasn’t on my best behaviour.’
‘We don’t understand, Doctor,’ said Jenny. ‘That was you... an earlier you?’
‘Yes. I had a different face back then.’
‘And the envelope with the key?’ Vastra asked. The Doctor looked a little embarrassed.
‘A causality loop,’ he admitted. ‘It’s best to avoid them, but these things happen when you’re a time-traveller.’
‘You received the envelope with key and the note back then, and then when you met us, you fixed safety deposit box and ‘anded the key to Madame Vastra, so that she could ‘and it to you, so that you could receive it,’ Jenny said. It made her feel a little dizzy.
‘I always wondered who that strange philanthropist you mentioned was,’ he said. ‘Then, last time I was here, it struck me that it must have been me all along.’ He grinned now. ‘So it turned out that I hadn’t accepted charity after all. The money was mine all along.’
Vastra seemed to ponder something.
‘What’s the matter, ma’am?’ Jenny asked. Vastra shook her head, to show her not to worry.
‘I was remembering my first meeting with the Doctor,’ she explained and turned to look at him. ‘When we met, in the tunnels under London, and you stopped me from killing those humans who had massacred my sisters... you were so adamant that I could live among humans...’
‘...Because I had already seen you do it,’ the Doctor filled in. ‘Yes, Vastra. The first time you met me was not the first time I met you. It’s a very bad habit, by the way - makes things very confusing. But at least this time, I didn’t really know who you were that first time. Not that I wasn’t suspicious - I remember thinking, quite distinctly, that that skin disease my hostess claimed she had would still not change her voice like that. When we came face to face in that tunnel, I knew at once that it was you. I remembered that strange lady who had taken me in...and I knew that she was that Silurian standing in front of me.’
‘And you engineered for me to end up here?’ Vastra asked.
‘Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Vastra,’ the Doctor sighed. ‘I didn’t push you into this. Your timestream was taking you here anyway. I knew that, because I’d seen you live this life before. I just encouraged you.’
‘Very well,’ Vastra said and sipped her tea. Jenny thought that despite her grave tone, she looked rather pleased. Perhaps it was simply knowing the truth that did it, or recalling the look of recognition in the Doctor’s face the first time they met, but Jenny secretly thought that it was probably pleasure at knowing that this reality was so certain, even predestined. Then Jenny’s thoughts returned to the strange, confused man she had befriended.
‘Doctor, what ‘ad ‘appened to you?’ she asked. ‘Why did you not remember anything?’
The Doctor sighed and leaned back in his chair. The question seemed to have an uncomfortable answer.
‘I did something. Something horrific, but necessary. I lost everything. There were other reasons too, but part of it was simply... well, I could not endure what had happened, and my mind shattered. So I was sent here to heal.’ When he looked at them again, Jenny thought she saw all the years of his life in his face. It was strange to think that the mature if unconventional man they had taken in was far younger than the boyish Doctor having tea with them now.
‘Did you?’ Vastra asked.
‘Eventually.’
‘Did you really wait until 2001?’ Jenny wondered. The Doctor nodded.
‘It’s the longest I’ve lived in a straight line since I was a young man - by Time Lord standards, that is,’ he said. ‘The money I left for myself sustained me for most of it, and I managed to get through the rest on my ingenuity.’
‘And did you find Fitz - your friend?’ she asked. Now the Doctor’s smile broadened.
‘Yes, I did. He was there where he said he’d be.’ He looked into the distance, lost in the memory. Jenny rose and went into the hall, and returned with the coat that had remained hanging on the door.
‘Fitz’s trench coat,’ the Doctor said, amazed, and took it when Jenny handed it over. He looked completely flabbergasted, his mouth hanging open in surprise. ‘I haven’t seen this in centuries...’ The way he handled the coat made Jenny wonder what had happened to its owner. The Doctor stroked it, inspected the threads and finally buried his nose in it to sniff it. When he lowered it, Jenny thought she saw a tear in the corner of his eye. ‘It still smells of his cigarettes,’ he murmured. ‘In its own timeline, he wore it just a few weeks ago...’ Then he looked up at them. ‘Can I keep it?’
‘It is yours,’ Vastra reminded him.
‘Well, on loan to me,’ he said. ‘Fitz was a little annoyed I hadn’t kept it, even if he knew that keeping the same coat for a hundred years wouldn’t work. I can’t return it to him, but... I can extend my loan indefinitely.’ He folded it carefully and put it in his lap, leaving one hand to rest on it. ‘Thank you for keeping it safe.’ Jenny shrugged, and refilled their cups. When she sat down again and started stirring her tea, she asked:
‘Doctor, that other you - will we meet ‘im again?’
The Doctor grinned over the rim of his teacup.
‘Oh, Jenny. That would be telling, wouldn’t it?’