Anyone up for a crossover fic?
Jun. 25th, 2008 08:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wahleeThis is just a bit of silliness, really. I'm sure it's been done before, but since I've read a grand total of 3 Doctor Who fics in my life (if that), if someone has, I haven't read it. I still haven't thought of a title, but I thought I'd post it anyway. So.
Title: None, yet
Fandoms: Doctor Who, Star Trek: Voyager
Characters: Ten, Rose, the Doctor
Word Count: 2690
Rating: PG (for one use of a British swearword)
It had been a pretty routine day in Voyager's sickbay. Naomi Wildman had come in with a sprained ankle (she'd be running around the corridors on Deck Two), and Neelix had needed treatment for a second-degree burn (Naomi had run into him while he was carrying a pot of coffee for Captain Janeway), but other than these minor incidents, it had been nice and quiet. No attacks from unknown hostile species, no mysterious diseases—just plenty of time for relaxation and study. The Doctor was just reviewing some additional Earth folk tunes to share with Seven of Nine when his nice routine day turned into anything but.
It started with a slight breeze, which soon grew into a strong wind. Then a light flickered from bright to dim and then back again. And then there came the sound of a horrible screeching siren, which sounded in rhythm with the light. As it grew louder, a big blue box materialized out of nowhere, right there in the middle of sickbay.
Before the Doctor had recovered himself enough to alert the bridge, a door in the box opened and two people stepped out. They seemed not to notice the Doctor's presence; in fact, they stood with their backs toward him.
"Well! This is a bit more posh than the last spaceship you landed us on. So—when are we, then?" The blonde woman looked around a bit as she spoke. Her accent was unusual—the Doctor had never heard anything like it on Voyager before, although it was vaguely reminiscent of the Irish brogue employed by the Holodeck characters in Fair Haven. The woman looked human enough, though—or, at least, humanoid.
Her companion, a tall man with messy brown hair, looked around also. "Oh—late 24th century, I think," he replied, tugging on his right ear. His accent was similar to hers. "Not sure exactly where, though. Several thousand light years away from Earth, though. At least."
At the mention of Earth, the Doctor could contain himself no longer. "Excuse me," he said indignantly. The pair whirled around in surprise. "Who are you, and what exactly are you doing in my sickbay?"
The woman seemed wary of the Doctor, but the man seemed supremely unconcerned. "A sickbay, eh? I thought so. Sickbays always have this certain smell, no matter the century." He eyed the Doctor appraisingly. "And I suppose that would make you. . ." He trailed off, obviously expecting the Doctor to introduce himself.
"I am the Doctor," he shortly replied. But his tone did nothing to quell the man's jovial mood. In fact, he looked quite delighted.
"Ah, but Doctor who?" He grinned (a bit goofily, the Doctor thought). "I always wanted to say that," he said to the woman, who tried to suppress a snicker, but failed.
"Just the Doctor." He was in no mood to elaborate. "And you still haven't answered my question." But his words had finally produced a change in the man's demeanor. He looked almost shocked. The woman certainly did.
"Really?" The man looked the Doctor over even more apprasingly than he did before. "Just the Doctor? But—I mean, I'm quite certain I've never been you; I would have remembered—you know," he ran a hand through his hair, making it stand even more on end than before. The Doctor bristled. "But if I'm going to be you in the future—and let me tell you, I sincerely hope my fashion sense hasn't regressed quite that far—" he gestured to indicate the Doctor's uniform— "but still, you should remember this. Or at least, you should recognize the TARDIS. But you don't seem to know who we are, so—" The man stepped extremely close to the Doctor and looked him straight in the eye. He had to crouch a bit. "Are you stealing my schtick?"
The Doctor was completely nonplussed. The man was obviously a lunatic. The Doctor took a step backwards, and the man straightened. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," the Doctor coldly replied, "and if you do not identify yourselves immediately, I shall be forced to call Security. In fact, I'm surprised they're not already here. Surely there must have been an intruder alert."
Something of the man's former joviality returned. "Ah—maybe not. The TARDIS has this bad habit of messing with internal sensors. If it decided to make it seem that we're not here, then we aren't. But, anyway, sorry. Doctor, this is Rose Tyler."
"Hello," said Rose, with an uncertain wave.
"And I—well—I'm the Doctor." The Doctor took another step back as the other Doctor raised his hands. "And don't say 'Doctor Who?' As I'm sure you realize, it gets a bit old."
The Doctor sputtered. "You mean to tell me that you are—"
"Also the Doctor, yes." The Doctor stared at the other Doctor in disbelief. Rose looked from one Doctor to the other, obviously amused. "So you can understand why I was a bit taken aback just now," the other Doctor continued. "It's not often I meet someone with my name. Or lack thereof."
The Doctor couldn't immediately think of anything to say, and so said nothing.
"Or maybe you don't, quite. You see, I'm a Time Lord. From Gallifrey." The other Doctor paused, searching the Doctor's face for any signs of recognition.
"I'm not familiar with that planet," admitted the Doctor. "We may not have come across it yet. Is it here in the Delta Quadrant?"
The Doctor seemed slightly crestfallen, but not particularly surprised. "Ah. Maybe. At least, it might have been. At one time. It's gone now."
"I'm sorry."
"Yes, well. Time Lords. When we're close to death, we have this little trick. Instead of dying, we regenerate—every cell in our bodies is changed. Renewed. Same person, different body."
"Yeah," interjected Rose. The Doctor had almost forgotten about her. "I watched it happen once. Looked completely different when I first met him. We traveled around for a while, and then one day there were these—anyway, there was lots of light and pow—he looks like this. It was weird."
"Yes, thank you, Rose." Rose grinned sheepishly, and the other Doctor went on. "So, Doctor, when you said you were the Doctor, I thought for a bit that you might have been me in the future. I mean, it would have been really bad—crossing into your own timeline is strictly forbidden for a good reason—but it's been known to happen occasionally.
The Doctor hadn't really heard the last part of this speech, as his mind was otherwise occupied. "But this is remarkable. I've never encountered a species with such an adaptation. How did it evolve? You're obviously humanoid—are there any other idiosyncrasies unique to your species?"
"He's got two hearts," piped up Rose. "And he can smell all sorts of things that I can't. And he keeps licking things. And—" The other Doctor shot Rose a quelling look. She subsided, but grinned back.
"A binary cardiovascular system," the Doctor mused out loud. "Curious. Unusual, but not, of course, unheard of. Heightened senses of taste and smell. And what—"
But the other Doctor interrupted. "I'd be more than happy to satisfy your curiosity, medical and otherwise; but first, could you satisfy mine? Why are you called simply 'the Doctor'? Why no proper name?"
The Doctor could see no reason not to answer—besides, he was quite curious about this mysterious man. "I am an Emergency Medical Hologram, designed to operate for short periods of time in cases where the medical staff are injured, killed, or simply overwhelmed. As such, it was not thought necessary to give me a name. Unfortunately, Voyager's medical staff were all killed during the incident which left us stranded here in the Delta Quadrant, 70,000 light years from Earth. I have therefore been serving as the Chief Medical Officer for approximately four years, as we attempt to make our way home."
The other Doctor seems quite satisfied with this explanation, but Rose was obviously taken aback. "Wait. A hologram? Does that mean you're not real?"
The Doctor considered taking offense at this question, but ultimately decided to make allowances. These people weren't from around here, after all. Besides, he'd been having the same argument with the rest of the crew for years. "Not in the traditional sense, perhaps. However, traditional definitions of 'real' and 'alive' are not as concrete as we sometimes believe. Indeed, they are continually expanding."
"Right. Sorry." Rose looked her apology as well as spoke it. "I've seen so many things that I never thought possible—but I've never met a hologram before. You took me off guard."
The Doctor looked at Rose curiously. "And what species are you?"
"Ah—I'm human. From Earth. Nothing special about me." She seemed to want to retreat from the Doctor's notice.
"But you don't understand," replied the Doctor eagerly. "To be from Earth is special. We haven't heard any actual news from Earth for years! What can you tell us? I'm sure Captain Janeway would love to talk with you. How did you come to be in the Delta Quadrant?"
"Er. Well—" She seemed uncomfortable. "I'm afraid I don't have much to tell that you wouldn't already know. I'm—" She looked at the other Doctor, as if for guidance. If he gave any, however, the Doctor couldn't tell. "I'm—well—I'm not from this time." She smiled a bit sheepishly. "I'm from the early 21st century, actually."
Several of the pair's odd comments clicked into place. "You're time travelers."
"Yes, in fact," replied the other Doctor. "Well, technically I'm the time traveler, and Rose is along for the ride." Rose looked like she wanted to dispute this statement, but decided not to. Or maybe she was just putting it off until later. The other Doctor gestured to his box and started babbling something about time and relative dimension in space, but the Doctor wasn't listening. An idea had caught hold of his imagination. What if—
"Could you go back?" he said abruptly, interrupting whatever the other Doctor had been saying. "Keep us from being stranded here? There have been so many horrible things—so many lives lost. You could stop all that."
The other Doctor seemed troubled. "Ah. Well. I could. I can do almost anything. But I won't."
The Doctor was disappointed, but not really surprised. "Tampering with history is forbidden, right?"
"Not necessarily. I've changed history before, and I'm sure I will again. But I'm part of this timeline now, and messing with past events now would be a very bad idea."
"A very bad idea," interjected Rose. "Trust me on this one."
"Besides," continued the other Doctor. "Do you really want the past four years to be undone? Yes, it may prevent a lot of suffering, but it would also erase any good that has been done. Has your presence in this part of space had any good effect? Made any friends? Saved any lives? Made any scientific discoveries? For that matter, have you learned anything—about the universe, about humanity, about yourself?" The other Doctor gave the Doctor a penetrating look.
The Doctor reflected on his experiences since first being activated, so long ago. He though of Kes, his first friend, and of all the things she saw and learned because of Voyager. He thought of B'Elanna and Chakotay and the other Maquis crew, and how he never even thought of them as separate from the Starfleet crew any more. He thought about the friendship between Tom Paris and Harry Kim. And he thought of Seven of Nine, the former Borg drone, still finding her individuality and humanity. The other Doctor smiled slightly, watching him, as though he knew exactly what the Doctor had been thinking.
"I seriously doubt, Doctor, that you would wish to return to the existence you had before Voyager came to the Delta quadrant—if you can call it an existence. Stored in memory banks except for brief periods of emergency—knowing no more of the universe than what a holo-designer entered into your program. Nah. That's not for you—you've become so much more."
For the second time in the space of a few minutes, the Doctor couldn't think of anything to say. But this time, he smiled. The other Doctor grinned back.
"Now," said the Doctor, his former joviality returning in full measure. "I'm sure you're dying to give me a full medical exam. While you're at it, you can tell me about yourself. Shall we begin?"
The next couple of hours were highly enjoyable for both Doctors. While the Doctor questioned the other Doctor about Time Lord physiology, the other Doctor questioned him about their adventures in the Delta Quadrant, how they'd arrived there in the first place, how the Doctor's holoprogram was originally designed, and how it had been expanded. The other Doctor was especially fascinated by the mobile emitter, even going so far as to examine its inner workings with a device he called a sonic screwdriver. In return for this favor, the other Doctor allowed the Doctor to take a picture of him with his holocamera, so he could continue to study his physiology. Then he took a group shot of all three of them together.
Rose listened intently at first, but soon grew bored with what she termed "all this bloody techno-babble." The Doctor, in a fit of inspiration, explained his folk-song project to her, and she entered into it with enthusiasm. She approved the work he had already done, offered alternative lyrics for a few of his selections, and even suggested some of her own. The Doctor was grateful for her help, although he didn't think he'd share some of the raunchier drinking songs with Seven any time soon.
They were all having such a good time that it came as quite a shock when, as the other Doctor was in mid-sentence about how he'd once worn a stick of celery on his lapel in a previous incarnation, Seven's voice sounded on the comm.
"Seven of Nine to the Doctor."
Regretfully, the Doctor responded.
"Doctor here."
"I had understood that we were to meet in Holodeck 2 at 1500 hours. It is now 1515. Have you been detained?"
"Ah—no. I simply lost track of time. My apologies. I will join you shortly."
"Very good, Doctor. Seven of Nine out."
"I suppose that's our cue," said the other Doctor. He and Rose stood up to take their leave.
"Oh," said the Doctor, disappointed. "I'd hoped you would wait for me. Or perhaps even accompany me. I'd like to introduce you to Seven. She used to be a Borg, you know. Quite fascinating."
"I'm sure she is," said the other Doctor apologetically. "But it's time we were moving on."
The two Doctors exchanged a hearty handshake, and Rose surprised them all by giving the Doctor a hug. As the other Doctor opened the door of the blue box, the Doctor glanced inside, not sure what he was expecting to see. "My word," he breathed.
The other Doctor grinned. "Want to step inside for a bit?" He gestured the Doctor in, and he and Rose followed. The Doctor looked around him in wonder. He stood in a room as big as his sickbay—no, bigger. In the center of the room stood a console around a clear column, which stretched up to the high, domed ceiling.
"Doctor," the Doctor said weakly. "Is this box some kind of compact holodeck?"
"Oh, no," said the other Doctor, carelessly. "It's merely bigger on the inside."
The Doctor shook his head. "You are a remarkable man, Doctor."
"As are you, Doctor." They smiled at each other. Then the Doctor sighed.
"I must go. Seven will be impatient." He turned to leave, but paused at the door. "Doctor," he said. "Why don't you have a name?"
The other Doctor was silent for a moment, as if trying to decide what to tell him. "I do, actually," he finally said.
"Really? But then—why don't you use it?"
The Doctor grinned—a familiar sight by now. "Names are highly overrated," he said. Then he waved.
The Doctor waved back, said "Good-bye," and re-entered sickbay. He turned and watched as the box disappeared.
Sighing slightly, the Doctor picked up the PADD containing Rose's song suggestions. "Computer. Transfer EMH to Holodeck 2."
Now, on to that fic where the Doctor and Martha meet Jane Austen. . .
Title: None, yet
Fandoms: Doctor Who, Star Trek: Voyager
Characters: Ten, Rose, the Doctor
Word Count: 2690
Rating: PG (for one use of a British swearword)
It had been a pretty routine day in Voyager's sickbay. Naomi Wildman had come in with a sprained ankle (she'd be running around the corridors on Deck Two), and Neelix had needed treatment for a second-degree burn (Naomi had run into him while he was carrying a pot of coffee for Captain Janeway), but other than these minor incidents, it had been nice and quiet. No attacks from unknown hostile species, no mysterious diseases—just plenty of time for relaxation and study. The Doctor was just reviewing some additional Earth folk tunes to share with Seven of Nine when his nice routine day turned into anything but.
It started with a slight breeze, which soon grew into a strong wind. Then a light flickered from bright to dim and then back again. And then there came the sound of a horrible screeching siren, which sounded in rhythm with the light. As it grew louder, a big blue box materialized out of nowhere, right there in the middle of sickbay.
Before the Doctor had recovered himself enough to alert the bridge, a door in the box opened and two people stepped out. They seemed not to notice the Doctor's presence; in fact, they stood with their backs toward him.
"Well! This is a bit more posh than the last spaceship you landed us on. So—when are we, then?" The blonde woman looked around a bit as she spoke. Her accent was unusual—the Doctor had never heard anything like it on Voyager before, although it was vaguely reminiscent of the Irish brogue employed by the Holodeck characters in Fair Haven. The woman looked human enough, though—or, at least, humanoid.
Her companion, a tall man with messy brown hair, looked around also. "Oh—late 24th century, I think," he replied, tugging on his right ear. His accent was similar to hers. "Not sure exactly where, though. Several thousand light years away from Earth, though. At least."
At the mention of Earth, the Doctor could contain himself no longer. "Excuse me," he said indignantly. The pair whirled around in surprise. "Who are you, and what exactly are you doing in my sickbay?"
The woman seemed wary of the Doctor, but the man seemed supremely unconcerned. "A sickbay, eh? I thought so. Sickbays always have this certain smell, no matter the century." He eyed the Doctor appraisingly. "And I suppose that would make you. . ." He trailed off, obviously expecting the Doctor to introduce himself.
"I am the Doctor," he shortly replied. But his tone did nothing to quell the man's jovial mood. In fact, he looked quite delighted.
"Ah, but Doctor who?" He grinned (a bit goofily, the Doctor thought). "I always wanted to say that," he said to the woman, who tried to suppress a snicker, but failed.
"Just the Doctor." He was in no mood to elaborate. "And you still haven't answered my question." But his words had finally produced a change in the man's demeanor. He looked almost shocked. The woman certainly did.
"Really?" The man looked the Doctor over even more apprasingly than he did before. "Just the Doctor? But—I mean, I'm quite certain I've never been you; I would have remembered—you know," he ran a hand through his hair, making it stand even more on end than before. The Doctor bristled. "But if I'm going to be you in the future—and let me tell you, I sincerely hope my fashion sense hasn't regressed quite that far—" he gestured to indicate the Doctor's uniform— "but still, you should remember this. Or at least, you should recognize the TARDIS. But you don't seem to know who we are, so—" The man stepped extremely close to the Doctor and looked him straight in the eye. He had to crouch a bit. "Are you stealing my schtick?"
The Doctor was completely nonplussed. The man was obviously a lunatic. The Doctor took a step backwards, and the man straightened. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," the Doctor coldly replied, "and if you do not identify yourselves immediately, I shall be forced to call Security. In fact, I'm surprised they're not already here. Surely there must have been an intruder alert."
Something of the man's former joviality returned. "Ah—maybe not. The TARDIS has this bad habit of messing with internal sensors. If it decided to make it seem that we're not here, then we aren't. But, anyway, sorry. Doctor, this is Rose Tyler."
"Hello," said Rose, with an uncertain wave.
"And I—well—I'm the Doctor." The Doctor took another step back as the other Doctor raised his hands. "And don't say 'Doctor Who?' As I'm sure you realize, it gets a bit old."
The Doctor sputtered. "You mean to tell me that you are—"
"Also the Doctor, yes." The Doctor stared at the other Doctor in disbelief. Rose looked from one Doctor to the other, obviously amused. "So you can understand why I was a bit taken aback just now," the other Doctor continued. "It's not often I meet someone with my name. Or lack thereof."
The Doctor couldn't immediately think of anything to say, and so said nothing.
"Or maybe you don't, quite. You see, I'm a Time Lord. From Gallifrey." The other Doctor paused, searching the Doctor's face for any signs of recognition.
"I'm not familiar with that planet," admitted the Doctor. "We may not have come across it yet. Is it here in the Delta Quadrant?"
The Doctor seemed slightly crestfallen, but not particularly surprised. "Ah. Maybe. At least, it might have been. At one time. It's gone now."
"I'm sorry."
"Yes, well. Time Lords. When we're close to death, we have this little trick. Instead of dying, we regenerate—every cell in our bodies is changed. Renewed. Same person, different body."
"Yeah," interjected Rose. The Doctor had almost forgotten about her. "I watched it happen once. Looked completely different when I first met him. We traveled around for a while, and then one day there were these—anyway, there was lots of light and pow—he looks like this. It was weird."
"Yes, thank you, Rose." Rose grinned sheepishly, and the other Doctor went on. "So, Doctor, when you said you were the Doctor, I thought for a bit that you might have been me in the future. I mean, it would have been really bad—crossing into your own timeline is strictly forbidden for a good reason—but it's been known to happen occasionally.
The Doctor hadn't really heard the last part of this speech, as his mind was otherwise occupied. "But this is remarkable. I've never encountered a species with such an adaptation. How did it evolve? You're obviously humanoid—are there any other idiosyncrasies unique to your species?"
"He's got two hearts," piped up Rose. "And he can smell all sorts of things that I can't. And he keeps licking things. And—" The other Doctor shot Rose a quelling look. She subsided, but grinned back.
"A binary cardiovascular system," the Doctor mused out loud. "Curious. Unusual, but not, of course, unheard of. Heightened senses of taste and smell. And what—"
But the other Doctor interrupted. "I'd be more than happy to satisfy your curiosity, medical and otherwise; but first, could you satisfy mine? Why are you called simply 'the Doctor'? Why no proper name?"
The Doctor could see no reason not to answer—besides, he was quite curious about this mysterious man. "I am an Emergency Medical Hologram, designed to operate for short periods of time in cases where the medical staff are injured, killed, or simply overwhelmed. As such, it was not thought necessary to give me a name. Unfortunately, Voyager's medical staff were all killed during the incident which left us stranded here in the Delta Quadrant, 70,000 light years from Earth. I have therefore been serving as the Chief Medical Officer for approximately four years, as we attempt to make our way home."
The other Doctor seems quite satisfied with this explanation, but Rose was obviously taken aback. "Wait. A hologram? Does that mean you're not real?"
The Doctor considered taking offense at this question, but ultimately decided to make allowances. These people weren't from around here, after all. Besides, he'd been having the same argument with the rest of the crew for years. "Not in the traditional sense, perhaps. However, traditional definitions of 'real' and 'alive' are not as concrete as we sometimes believe. Indeed, they are continually expanding."
"Right. Sorry." Rose looked her apology as well as spoke it. "I've seen so many things that I never thought possible—but I've never met a hologram before. You took me off guard."
The Doctor looked at Rose curiously. "And what species are you?"
"Ah—I'm human. From Earth. Nothing special about me." She seemed to want to retreat from the Doctor's notice.
"But you don't understand," replied the Doctor eagerly. "To be from Earth is special. We haven't heard any actual news from Earth for years! What can you tell us? I'm sure Captain Janeway would love to talk with you. How did you come to be in the Delta Quadrant?"
"Er. Well—" She seemed uncomfortable. "I'm afraid I don't have much to tell that you wouldn't already know. I'm—" She looked at the other Doctor, as if for guidance. If he gave any, however, the Doctor couldn't tell. "I'm—well—I'm not from this time." She smiled a bit sheepishly. "I'm from the early 21st century, actually."
Several of the pair's odd comments clicked into place. "You're time travelers."
"Yes, in fact," replied the other Doctor. "Well, technically I'm the time traveler, and Rose is along for the ride." Rose looked like she wanted to dispute this statement, but decided not to. Or maybe she was just putting it off until later. The other Doctor gestured to his box and started babbling something about time and relative dimension in space, but the Doctor wasn't listening. An idea had caught hold of his imagination. What if—
"Could you go back?" he said abruptly, interrupting whatever the other Doctor had been saying. "Keep us from being stranded here? There have been so many horrible things—so many lives lost. You could stop all that."
The other Doctor seemed troubled. "Ah. Well. I could. I can do almost anything. But I won't."
The Doctor was disappointed, but not really surprised. "Tampering with history is forbidden, right?"
"Not necessarily. I've changed history before, and I'm sure I will again. But I'm part of this timeline now, and messing with past events now would be a very bad idea."
"A very bad idea," interjected Rose. "Trust me on this one."
"Besides," continued the other Doctor. "Do you really want the past four years to be undone? Yes, it may prevent a lot of suffering, but it would also erase any good that has been done. Has your presence in this part of space had any good effect? Made any friends? Saved any lives? Made any scientific discoveries? For that matter, have you learned anything—about the universe, about humanity, about yourself?" The other Doctor gave the Doctor a penetrating look.
The Doctor reflected on his experiences since first being activated, so long ago. He though of Kes, his first friend, and of all the things she saw and learned because of Voyager. He thought of B'Elanna and Chakotay and the other Maquis crew, and how he never even thought of them as separate from the Starfleet crew any more. He thought about the friendship between Tom Paris and Harry Kim. And he thought of Seven of Nine, the former Borg drone, still finding her individuality and humanity. The other Doctor smiled slightly, watching him, as though he knew exactly what the Doctor had been thinking.
"I seriously doubt, Doctor, that you would wish to return to the existence you had before Voyager came to the Delta quadrant—if you can call it an existence. Stored in memory banks except for brief periods of emergency—knowing no more of the universe than what a holo-designer entered into your program. Nah. That's not for you—you've become so much more."
For the second time in the space of a few minutes, the Doctor couldn't think of anything to say. But this time, he smiled. The other Doctor grinned back.
"Now," said the Doctor, his former joviality returning in full measure. "I'm sure you're dying to give me a full medical exam. While you're at it, you can tell me about yourself. Shall we begin?"
The next couple of hours were highly enjoyable for both Doctors. While the Doctor questioned the other Doctor about Time Lord physiology, the other Doctor questioned him about their adventures in the Delta Quadrant, how they'd arrived there in the first place, how the Doctor's holoprogram was originally designed, and how it had been expanded. The other Doctor was especially fascinated by the mobile emitter, even going so far as to examine its inner workings with a device he called a sonic screwdriver. In return for this favor, the other Doctor allowed the Doctor to take a picture of him with his holocamera, so he could continue to study his physiology. Then he took a group shot of all three of them together.
Rose listened intently at first, but soon grew bored with what she termed "all this bloody techno-babble." The Doctor, in a fit of inspiration, explained his folk-song project to her, and she entered into it with enthusiasm. She approved the work he had already done, offered alternative lyrics for a few of his selections, and even suggested some of her own. The Doctor was grateful for her help, although he didn't think he'd share some of the raunchier drinking songs with Seven any time soon.
They were all having such a good time that it came as quite a shock when, as the other Doctor was in mid-sentence about how he'd once worn a stick of celery on his lapel in a previous incarnation, Seven's voice sounded on the comm.
"Seven of Nine to the Doctor."
Regretfully, the Doctor responded.
"Doctor here."
"I had understood that we were to meet in Holodeck 2 at 1500 hours. It is now 1515. Have you been detained?"
"Ah—no. I simply lost track of time. My apologies. I will join you shortly."
"Very good, Doctor. Seven of Nine out."
"I suppose that's our cue," said the other Doctor. He and Rose stood up to take their leave.
"Oh," said the Doctor, disappointed. "I'd hoped you would wait for me. Or perhaps even accompany me. I'd like to introduce you to Seven. She used to be a Borg, you know. Quite fascinating."
"I'm sure she is," said the other Doctor apologetically. "But it's time we were moving on."
The two Doctors exchanged a hearty handshake, and Rose surprised them all by giving the Doctor a hug. As the other Doctor opened the door of the blue box, the Doctor glanced inside, not sure what he was expecting to see. "My word," he breathed.
The other Doctor grinned. "Want to step inside for a bit?" He gestured the Doctor in, and he and Rose followed. The Doctor looked around him in wonder. He stood in a room as big as his sickbay—no, bigger. In the center of the room stood a console around a clear column, which stretched up to the high, domed ceiling.
"Doctor," the Doctor said weakly. "Is this box some kind of compact holodeck?"
"Oh, no," said the other Doctor, carelessly. "It's merely bigger on the inside."
The Doctor shook his head. "You are a remarkable man, Doctor."
"As are you, Doctor." They smiled at each other. Then the Doctor sighed.
"I must go. Seven will be impatient." He turned to leave, but paused at the door. "Doctor," he said. "Why don't you have a name?"
The other Doctor was silent for a moment, as if trying to decide what to tell him. "I do, actually," he finally said.
"Really? But then—why don't you use it?"
The Doctor grinned—a familiar sight by now. "Names are highly overrated," he said. Then he waved.
The Doctor waved back, said "Good-bye," and re-entered sickbay. He turned and watched as the box disappeared.
Sighing slightly, the Doctor picked up the PADD containing Rose's song suggestions. "Computer. Transfer EMH to Holodeck 2."
The End
Now, on to that fic where the Doctor and Martha meet Jane Austen. . .
