An Unearthly Man

[The First Doctor]

76 Totters Lane
London
23 November 2003

Once, it had been a junkyard.

And then, about twenty years ago, an eccentric couple had purchased it and turned it into a small park. It was decorated with elements from the popular young adult novel series "Doctor Who". The good Doctor's magic cabinet stood in one corner of the lot. Hollow aluminum statues of the oh-so-popular "Daleks" stood about, ready to be climbed on or in or through.

They tended to see more use than the merry-go-round, or the monkey bars, or the swingset.

There were benches as well, where tired parents could sit and watch their children play (or, to be perfectly honest, where teenagers could make out after hours). A couple - husband and wife - sat on one bench.

Otherwise, the park was deserted. It was no surprise to them. They were the owners, after all, and their one stipulation was that the tiny park was closed once a year. On the 23rd of November.

"Forty years," said the woman, who didn't look to be more than 35.

"I know," said the man, who was very nearly the same age. "Where does the time go?"

"Around us and past us," the woman said, leaning in against the man. "And we just watch it."

He held her close, both for comfort and for warmth. "Do you really think he'll come back?"

"Do you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I've heard rumors, from time to time. But, I don't know."

And then, there was a sound. A low roaring, grinding sound. It grew louder, and louder. Wind began to kick up from the corner where the magic cabinet stood. A blue police box began to fade in and out of view around it, almost seeming to struggle. And then, with a final roar and groan, it solidified.

It looked... burnt.

The couple were on their feet, now. "I don't believe it," one of them said - they would never be able to remember which one it was. "It can't be," the other said.

The door opened, and a cloud of crackling black smoke billowed out. Coughing, staggering, a man emerged. He was large nosed and short haired, wearing charred and torn and bloody rags that might once have been a dark green velvet frock coat, a silver waistcoat and a cravat.

He looked up at them with a lopsided grin and an unfocused stare. "Hello there," he said, weakly. "I'm the Doctor."

And then he pitched forward, face first into the cobblestones.

An Unearthly Man

[The First Doctor]

He tossed and turned in his sleep - something he didn't ordinarily need - trying to escape.

"Arcadia is burning!"

"Release the Nightmare Beast."

"They're in the Cruciform! The Cruciform has fallen!"

"Exterminate!"

"The Citadel! They've breached the Citadel!"

"Exterminate!"

"We will initiate the Final Sanction. We will ascend! To become creatures of conciousness alone; free of these bodies, free of time, and cause and effect!"

"EX-TER-MIN-ATE!"

"This is it? This is the weapon you made?"

Screaming. A billion, billion voices screaming.

He sat bolt upright, hearts thundering in his chest, gasping for breath. "A dream..?" he said, watching his hands shake. "Yeah, just a dream. It's over..."

His voice slowed down, and a look of puzzlement crossed his face. "Hullo?" he said, experimentally. "I saw Susie sitting in a shoe shine shop. Where she sits she shines, and where she shines she sits."

He paused, and licked his lips. "Voice is different." Long fingers probed at his face, scratching at his scalp in confusion before stroking over his face. "New nose, new chin. Bollocks. I've regenerated."

Then he looked around the room he was in. He was dressed in a slightly too short pair of sweat pants and t-shirt, lying in a wooden twin bed, under a comforter that had a pattern of stars on it. A wardrobe stood against one wall and a dresser against another, and a neatly-organized box of toys against the wall with the door.

He opened his eyes a little wider. "This rules out the TARDIS, anyway... Ah!"

He sprang from the bed, staggered a little, and examined the pile of 'personal contents' on the dresser. "It's all mine," he said, pawing through the pile. Yo-yo, matchbooks, string, compass, jelly babies ("How long have those been in my pocket?"), a nondescript gold ring - where was it? - a small fragment of blue crystal... there it was!

The TARDIS key went around his neck, and he pocketed his sonic screwdriver. Now, it was high time to figure out where he was.

Cautiously, he approached the door. He doubted that anyone who would put him under a comforter and leave his possessions on the dresser was a threat, but it was better to be certain. From beyond, and down, he could hear voices.

"No, I agree. We couldn't just leave him there. I'm just saying we need to be careful." That was a male voice, oddly familiar.

"Yes, but who else could he be?" This one? Female. Also familiar.

He opened the door softly and peeked out. A short hallway led left to a window and right to stairs going down. The voices were coming from the right.

"Anyone," the male voice said. "We know he wasn't from Earth."

"But a police box?"

"Maybe they all look like that."

"No they don't," he muttered, carefully approaching the stairs. "Now let's just have a look at you two, and see who exactly you are."

The female voice laughed. "Oh, yes. I can just hear it now. 'The temporal dynamism of a London police box is absolutely essential for-'"

Her voice broke off as he reached the top of the stairs. The tableaux was fascinating. At the bottom of the stairs, seated at a breakfast table, were a black-haired woman and a brown-haired man, sipping tea. At the top of the stairs stood a large-nosed, short-haired man in ill-fitting sweats. All of them stared at each other.

The Doctor broke the silence. "Barbara? Chesterfield?" His voice was incredulous.

"Chesterton," Ian corrected automatically. His eyes darted between the Doctor and Barbara in surprise.

The Doctor sat down on the top step, and started to laugh. "I get it," he gasped out, "I get it, now. I'm still dreaming." He laughed even harder, grasping his sides. "I'm still dreaming, and in a moment I'll wake up and hear myself saying 'And you were there, and you, and you, and even little Toto'."

And 'Toto' was all the couple could get out of him for several minutes of almost hysterical laughter.

[The First Doctor]

"Look," the man - Chesterton - said. "I'll accept that you may be related to him. But you can't be the Doctor."

The Doctor gave him a stern look, the effect partially ruined by the fact that he was chewing a mouthful of eggs. He swallowed. "Really? Why not?"

Chesterton appealed to his wife for support. "Barbara? Could you help me out here?"

She buttered a scone. "What Ian is trying to say is, we've met the Doctor."

"Of course you have," the Doctor agreed, helping himself to a scone. "Back in 1963. You barged right into my TARDIS. These are really good, by the way."

Ian and Barbara looked at each other. "Yes," Ian agreed, patiently. "We barged into the Doctor's TARDIS. What I'm trying to say here is..." He took a deep breath. "The Doctor is an old man, and shorter than I am. And he doesn't talk like someone from the north."

The Doctor said something incomprehensible, accompanied by a spray of crumbs. Sheepishly, he swallowed and tried again. "He does now. Because I do. And do I really sound like someone from the north?"

Ian massaged the bridge of his nose. "Look. I can accept that you're some relation of his - there's a resemblance -"

"Is there?" the Doctor said in surprise. "I haven't had a chance to check, yet." He looked around. "Do you have a mirror handy?"

"There's a resemblance," Ian continued sternly, "But you look easily 30 years younger."

"Do I? Good. I always hate it when I look older, after I regenerate." He bit off another mouthful of scone, and washed it down with tea. Then he drew a deep breath. "Look. I know you weren't around for it, so this'll be hard to believe. But I regenerate."

"Regenerate?" they both echoed. Barbara sounded interested, while Ian sounded skeptical.

"Yes, regenerate. If I die. Or, more precisely, if my body sustains severe enough injuries to cease functioning. I regenerate. I change form, heal up, and come back to life." He drank more tea. "Well, start functioning again."

He looked at their incredulous expressions. "What? It's something we all do. Did. Could do. All of us."

They both looked skeptical now.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Sounds like I'm selling you a line, right? So how can I convince you? Obviously, arriving in the TARDIS -" he looked alarmed, now. "I did arrive in the TARDIS, right?"

"Yes," said Barbara. "That's why we're willing to accept that you may be related to the Doctor."

"Right, then," the Doctor said. "I'll need to get back there, later. Check what sort of shape she's in. We had a rough go of it. But if arriving in the TARDIS didn't convince you, what will?"

They shrugged. "Tell us something only the three of us would know," Ian said.

"Right." The Doctor thought a moment. "When we arrived on Skaro, I sabotaged the fluid links to force you to let me explore Kalaan."

"That's in the books."

"Oh." He did a double take. "Books? I'm in books?" A broad smile split his face. "Brilliant! I'm famous!" Then he thought some more. "I had a stuffed panda on the chair in my control room. Susan won it in Brighton, about four months before you barged on to my TARDIS, and gave it to me."

His face clouded at the memory. "She said... she said I was always a gruff old bear, and maybe the panda would help me be a little more friendly."

There was silence at the table. Barbara and Ian exchanged uncomfortable looks as the Doctor dabbed at his eyes with a napkin. And then Barbara hugged him, and Ian shook his hand delightedly. "It's good to see you again, Doctor," Barbara kept saying, "It's good to see you." She finally released him, and Ian grabbed him in a bearhug.

"Still have to breathe, Chesterfield."

Ian sat back down. "Chesterton."

"What?"

"It's Chesterton."

"Get outta here. Since when?"

"Since always, Doctor."

The Doctor looked at him, skeptically. "If you say so." Then he looked at the clothes he was wearing. "Now then. May I borrow a mirror? And trouble you for a lift back to the TARDIS? I need some clothes that fit."

[The First Doctor]

Perched in the back seat of Ian's Catalina, the Doctor peered at his face in a hand mirror.

"You have a Catalina?"

"It's a good car. It runs well. I like it."

"You have a Catalina."

"It's my car."

"Who owns a Catalina?"

"I do."

"Couldn't you get something with a little more style? Like an Edsel? Or a Pinto?"

"This from a man that careens randomly through space and time in a police call box?"

"Hey! I can steer her now!"

"Hmmm..." the Doctor mused, stretching his left cheek. "You know, I rather like this new look."

Barbara and Ian looked at each other, disconcerted. They felt convinced that this was their Doctor, but still...

"That's... nice," Barbara answered.

"Yeah, I think so," the Doctor said, turning his head to try and see his profile. "Much better than that teeth and curls look I had for a while. In fact... yes, I'm convinced of it."

He handed Barbara the mirror. "This is probably the most I've looked like my first incarnation since, well, since that incarnation wore out." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yeah, this suits me. And I've got both hearts right in place, this time. Best of both worlds."

The drive passed in awkward silence for a moment. Then the Doctor leaned forward. "So, you two got married? Congratulations! And you don't seem to have aged a day in what, 40 years? Fantastic! How did you manage it?"

"No idea," said Ian. "We just don't age. The NHS, UNIT, even Torchwood, nobody has any ideas. So we go in for annual tests, let UNIT try to work it out, and then they help us with the paperwork."

"Paperwork?"

"Yeah. Keeping our finances straight - particularly keeping the banks from insisting that we can't possibly be the account owners, since we're obviously not in our seventies."

"Obviously," the Doctor deadpanned. "I get that all the time. 'Nine hundred? You can't possibly be a day over 750!' I just have one of those faces, I guess."

He grinned. "Any kids? Grandkids?"

They looked uncomfortable again. "Yes..." Barbara said slowly.

"What's wrong? C'mon, you can tell me. I'm the Doctor."

Ian sighed. "They're perfectly normal."

"Well, that's great!" He saw their faces. "Isn't it?"

"I mean, they're perfectly normal. They age, and everything."

The Doctor blinked, and then his eyes opened wide. "Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, I see."

Another awkward silence. This time, Barbara broke it. "How about you?"

"Hmmm?"

"Any great-grandchildren? Susan seemed quite taken with... David? Yes, with David. And I think she'd make a wonderful mother."

The Doctor sat, speechless, just for a moment. "Oh, yeah," he lied. "Tons. The oldest is getting married, soon. So that'll mean a great-great-grandchild."

The enormity of the lie stuck in his throat. He only managed to get it out by pretending, just for a moment, that it was true. That he'd found Susan, and she was happy, and that he had a family he would be able to see, any time he wanted.

Just then, Ian stopped the car. "Here we are." Grateful for the distraction, the Doctor piled out.

"I don't think this has changed a bit," he remarked, looking at the cobblestone alley and its brick walls. "It's even got the same doors, still."

Ian pushed open the door, revealing the park and the play-dalek. The Doctor paled, and dove over the car. It would be poor shelter, but it might survive a single electron shredder hit while he figured out what to do next...

"Doctor?" Ian asked. "Are you all right?"

"Dalek!" he hissed. "Didn't you see it?"

"It's playground equipment, Doctor."

He poked his head up. Sure enough, it was nothing more than gaudily painted sheet aluminum. He sighed in relief, stood, and marched towards Ian with as much dignity as he could muster. "Bloody poor taste, if you ask me."

The bad mood didn't last long, though. Because there, in the same corner he'd first parked her in, stood his TARDIS. With a whoop of joy he bounded forward, fitted the key to the lock, and stepped inside.

Ian and Barbara looked at each other and smiled, sadly.

The Doctor poked his head back out. "Well, what are you waiting for? Come in! I promise I won't even try to leave you in the paleolithic, this time."

"Well," Ian laughed, "how can we refuse an invitation like that?"

[The First Doctor]

They stood, just inside the door, staring.

The room was huge, a massive sphere with walls supported by flying buttresses of what appeared to be coral. The floor was a suspended bridge with the console at its center. The familiar time rotor extended from a housing in the ceiling, down through the console, to vanish into a second housing below. Catwalks led to stairs, which led to doors. There appeared to be a swivel chair bolted to the catwalk, near the console.

The Doctor gaped, eyes alight. He almost danced around, trying to see everything all at once, laughing like a child in a candy store. "Brilliant!" he chortled. "Fantastic! Look at you, you sexy thing you!"

Barbara clung close to Ian as the two stepped, tenatively, onto the catwalk. Their eyes darted around nervously. "It's..." Ian said, "It's..."

The Doctor turned on them, glaring. "Don't even say 'it's biger on the inside'," he warned. "I love it when people say that, but we went down that road back in '63."

Ian met his gaze. "That's not what I was going to say."

"Oh?"

"No. I was going to say, it looks different."

The Doctor nodded, a broad grin on his face. "I know! Doesn't she look great?"

"I mean, really different."

"Does it?" he asked in surprise, turning slowly. "I mean, she's moved the cabinets, and gotten rid of my phonograph, but..." He stopped turning, and looked at the baffled couple. "Oh, I get it! Yeah, she's changed a lot, since you were aboard last." He shrugged. "It's been nearly five hundred years - you've got to expect some differences."

"Five hundred? It's only been forty!"

"For me, Chesterfield."

"Chesterton!"

"Right, right, Chesterton." He clapped his hands together. "Anyway, I'm going to go change my clothes. Make yourselves at home - I think your old quarters are till up through there - and I'll be right back!"

He vaulted up the stairs, two at a time, pausing occasionally to run his hand lovingly over some portion of the control room. Even out of sight, the occasional "brilliant!" or "fantastic!" could be heard.

Ian hugged Barbara. "Shall we?"

---

"Their quarters" were nothing like the quarters they remembered. When they had last been in the TARDIS, their quarters had been communal bunks, thin-mattressed cots that jutted from the walls and folded away when not in use. There had been a dispenser in one corner, providing water in bags and nutrient bars in assorted flavors. The word "spartan" had been charitably used by Barbara to describe the accomidations, although neither the Doctor nor Susan had seemed to mind.

Of course, neither of them had ever really seemed to sleep, either.

These quarters resembled the bedroom of a French nobleman from the time of the Sun King. A huge four-poster bed dominated one side of the room. A dressing table and floor mirror stood nearby, carved with elaborate arabesques, along with a small table supporting a wash basin. There was a fireplace on the opposite wall, with four overstuffed chairs drawn up before it.

"'Some differences'," Ian echoed. "Why couldn't it have been like this forty years ago?"

Barbara had flung herself backwards on the bed, sinking spread-eagled into the comforter. "This is wonderful!" she announced, moving arms and legs like she was trying to make a snow angel. "Wonderful!"

Ian picked up a statuette from the mantle, and examined it. "It certainly is," he agreed.

She rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on her hands. "Ian, dear?"

"Yes?"

"We should get one of these."

He laughed. "A TARDIS?"

She laughed. "Well, yes. But I meant this bed. It's unbelievably comfortable."

He grunted, more to show that he was listening than anything else, and looked at the statuette again.

"And it's got these posts..." she continued.

He grunted again.

"And I've got some scarves I haven't worn in a while..." she added playfully.

That sent a shiver right down his spine, and he turned to look at her again. She smiled coquettishly, and gestured with a beckoning finger.

The Doctor chose that moment to throw the door open. "What do you think?" he asked, turning, showing off the black Edwardian suit and cravat he had picked out. "something familiar, eh? Just like old times?"

Barbara buried her face in the comforter, smothering giggles. Ian flushed a little red, and bit his lip.

"Not a good look?" he asked, slightly disappointed Then he took in Ian's expression, and the tableau before him. "Ah. I can come back later, if you like."

"No, no," Ian said, hurredly. Barbara was making snorting sounds now, convulsing with laughter.

"Really, it's no trouble."

"That's fine, Doctor, really."

More laughter.

"You can just hang a sock on the doorknob. If it's there, I won't..."

"Doctor!"

Sides still shaking, Barbara lifted her head to look at the two.

"What, Chesterton?"

"Chesterfield!"

Barbara stared, biting at her lip. The Doctor lifted an eyebrow. There was silence.

"No, wabbit season," the Doctor responded in a thick faux-Bronx accent.

Barbara howled with laughter.

[The First Doctor]

It had taken a little work, but they had finally convinced the Doctor that the black Edwardian suit was not a good look for him.

"But I look think I look pretty good in black!" he had protested.

"You do," Barbara had soothed, "But this particular outfit is, well..."

"It's too old for you," Ian had added.

"I'm over nine hundred years old, Chesterfield."

Barbara giggled. Ian rolled his eyes. "I mean," he said with labored patience, "You look like a younger man. It doesn't suit you. You need something younger."

They were sitting in front of the fireplace, Ian leafing through a leather-bound book, Barbara lost in thought.

"Unbelievable," Ian remarked.

"Mmm-hmm," Barbara put in.

"I mean, the TARDIS was incredible before. But this..." his gesture took in the grand room they were sitting in.

"Mmm-hmm," answered Barbara.

Ian eyed his wife suspiciously. "The bitter eel vinigrette on the buffet doesn't hold a candle to your recipe, though."

"Mmm-hmm."

There was a pause. "What?" she suddenly asked. "Eel?"

"You weren't listening to a word I was saying, were you?"

"Not really," she admitted. "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"About how glad I am that we won't have to change any of the monogrammed silver."

"What?"

An impish little grin. "You know, when we start having to order new labels, and checks, and such. With our correct last name."

"You are not funny."

she giggled. "I disagree."

The door opened, cautiously. The Doctor stuck his head in, hand over his eyes. "Are you two decent?"

"Doctor..." Ian growled,irritably.

"Because I didn't see a sock on the doorknob..."

"Doctor..." he growled again, his humor not improved by Barbara's gentle laughter.

"But I've been in love myself, and I know how easy it is to get distracted..."

More laughter. "Give it a rest, Doctor."

"Right, then," he announced, stepping into the room. "Be honest. How do I look?"

He was wearing an electric blue smoking jacket, cut from crushed velvet, with matching slacks. His shirt was ruffled, and a he wore a black bow tie. "Younger, right?"

"Uhm..." Ian began.

"Doctor," Barbara said firmly. "1973 just called. They want their clothes back."

---

The pattern continued. About every ten minutes, the Doctor would return wearing some outrageous new outfit, and they would reject it out of hand.

"I can't even begin to imagine how you wouldn't trip over that scarf, Doctor."

"That would be fine, if we were going to play cricket."

"What happened to that coat? Did a baby rainbow spit up on it?"

The door opened again.

"What do you think it'll be this time?"

"Clown shoes. Clown shoes, and a Viking's helmet."

"How's this look?"

The leather jacked was the first thing they noticed, a battered old thing that seemed like it was designed for a slightly larger man. The black t-shirt and grey slacks, and the black motorcycle boots registered at second glance.

"You look like you're about to bust a bottle on a MU supporter's head," Ian remarked.

Barbara rested her chin on her hand, and eyed him speculatively. "I don't know..." she said. "I mean, yeah, he does." she smiled a little. "But it looks good on you, Doctor. You look hot."

Ian stared at her, then looked at the Doctor. "Well, that settles it then," he deadpanned. "Go try again."

The Doctor ignored him, checking himself in the mirror. He adjusted the jacket a little, flicked a speck of imaginary lint from one sleeve, and turned to look at himself from different angles. "I haven't dressed like this in... in centuries." He turned again. "Well before I met you two. Before Susan was Loomed, even."

"Before Susan was what?" Barbara asked.

A frown flickered across the Doctor's face. "Never mind," he said thickly.

"Loomed?"

"I said," his voice more harsh than he intended, "I don't want to talk about it."

There was an uncomfortable silence. His shoulders slumped. "I..." he began, "I'm sorry. I didn't... you didn't deserve that." He stared into the mirror, through the mirror, unwilling to meet their gaze.

Ian shifted uncomfortably. "What's wrong?" he asked.

The Doctor stared at the wall. "It's..." he began, then shook his head. "No. No, I'm not ready to talk about it. Not so soon."

Silence. Finally, the Doctor spun and clapped his hands together. "So!" he announced, a wide grin on his face, "Fancy a spin? For old times sakes? Where would you like to go?

Ian caught Barbara's hand excitedly, and squeezed. "We'd love to, Doctor," Barbara said. "But we can't."

"What?" responded Ian and the Doctor, simultaneously.

"Joseph and Heather are coming over tonight," was her answer.

"Oh, yeah," Ian said.

"Who?"

"Our son," Ian explained, "and his wife. And our grandchildren."

The Doctor seemed to deflate. "Oh." He turned his head away. "Oh, yes. I see."

"why don't you come to dinner as well?" Barbara asked.

"I don't want to be a bother."

"Really, it's no trouble. And we told Joseph all about you, when he was growing up - the real stories, not the ones in the books. He'd love to meet you, and so would Michael and Trish."

He looked at them both, then smiled. "All right," he said, "All right!" He sprang to the door, calling "Just let me get a few things first" as he vanished.

The couple looked at each other. "He certainly seems... enthusiastic," Ian commented.

The Doctor stuck his head back through the door. "We're just going back to your place, right?"

"Yes," answered Barbara.

"Fantastic. I'll meet you outside."

[The First Doctor]

Ian rested his hand on the playground Dalek's eyestalk, looking at it seriously. "You know," he said, "I never really thought about it before. But maybe he's right."

"About what?" Barbara asked from one of the park benches.

"About this," he said, gesturing at the Dalek toy. "Maybe this is in bad taste."

She gave him a curious look.

"You saw the way he reacted when he saw it. The same way we would probably have reacted, forty years ago." He shook his head. "He was terrified."

He gave it a disgusted look, and stalked over to sit by his wife. "Monsters that tried to enslave humanity, and we made toys out of them."

She hugged his arm. "But isn't that why we tell stories to children? Isn't that why we wrote our stories? To tell them that monsters can be beaten?"

He gave her a peculiar look, then kissed her. "No," he said, "we wrote our stories because we were broke and out of work."

She rolled her eyes, and punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Idiot," she laughed.

It was then that the TARDIS doors opened. The Doctor was rolling out something that looked like the unholy offspring of a racing motorcycle and Judge Dredd's Lawmaster, and he was grinning like a jack-o-lantern. "I'd forgotten I'd packed her!" he exulted.

"What... what is that?" Barbara asked.

"Bessie," the Doctor answered warmly, patting the fairing. "Built her myself, I did. Centuries ago. Well before I ever left..." His face clouded for a moment. "Before I ever met you two," he finished.

"Bessie?" asked Ian.

"It's a good name," was the Doctor's defensive reply. "A fine name, Bessie." He grinned again. "So I'll just be following the two of you home, then."

He rolled the bike towards the exit, waving at the wide-eyed children in the park. "Aren't the two of you coming?" he called.

Ian took his wife's hand. "Bessie," he echoed.

"Well," she responded with an impish grin, "you drive a Catalina."

Silence.

"Don't even start, woman."

She laughed.

[The First Doctor]

In theory, he supposed, he should be following the Chestertons. Riding at a sedate speed behind that absurd little car, making sure to arrive at their home at the same time they did.

Instead, bored and trusting his sense of direction, he was doing over 300 kph on the M1, weaving in and out through rush hour traffic and generally having a great time. He hadn't had this much fun since... since...

Well. Since the War started.

That thought sobered him for a moment, but he pushed it away. This wasn't a time to brood. It was a time for mad laughter and bugs in your teeth! A time for the wind in your hair and the hum of the engine!

A time to wonder what the red and blue flashing lights and the siren behind him were for.

He looked behind, taking in the sight of a police cruiser manfully attempting to keep up with him. Curious, he slowed Bessie down and pulled over to the side of the road. The cruiser pulled up behind him, and an officer climbed out.

"Good afternoon!" he called. "I'm the Doctor! Can I help you?"

"Do you have any idea how fast you were going?" the officer said.

"322 kilometers an hour."

The officer stared at him for a second. "And the speed limit is..?"

"For other people?" He grinned. The officer did not.

"I'll need to see your license and registration, sir."

"My what, now?"

"Your license. And your registration."

The Doctor thought fast, then remembered the small leather billfold he had stuck in his pocket. What the heck, he thought. It can't hurt. He handed the billfold to the officer. "Here you go."

The officer took it, and stared in shock. "I... I had no idea... sir. Is it..." he swallowed. "Is it official business?"

The Doctor took the billfold back, glancing at the UNIT warrant card it contained. "Yes. Very important. It deals with applications of exothermic activity to long-chain protein and carbohydrate chains. You'll appreciate that I can't go into more detail..?"

"Of course, sir. Of course. Do you need an escort?"

The Doctor smiled. "No. Thank you, but no. It would be better not to attract attention."

The officer swallowed, and nodded. "Right. Of course. I'll, I'll just call in and make sure you aren't stopped again."

"Good job, officer. I'll be sure to mention you in my report."

The officer swelled with pride, and the Doctor kicked his bike into humming life.

Psychic paper, he laughed to himself and he raced back into traffic. Bless my hearts, I never thought that stuff would work.