TIME LORDS DON'T CRY

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Doctor looked down at his clothing, disapproval on his face.

“Why in the name of Rassilon am I dressed like this? Where’s my lovely suit? And where’s my sonic screwdriver?”

Frowning deeply, the Doctor patted his pockets. One by one, he pulled out the compass, the Tardis key, a Galifrean army knife, his glasses, the stub of a number two pencil and an old parking violation ticket. He’d found it stuck to the Tardis, the last time he was on the planet Markt. He stared balefully at it.

“I could have sworn I paid that.”

Shrugging, the Doctor tossed it on the floor.

“Better not go back there, then. They’re really strict about their parking tickets. You don’t pay the fine on time, you and your vehicle are instantly disintegrated.” he said to Marie. “And you should see want they do to people with expired parking meters,” he shuddered, “it’s not very pretty.”

Walking over to the small fireplace, which had large antique mirror hanging over it, the Doctor casually glanced into the glass. He backed up and put on his glasses, so he could see more of his new wardrobe.

“Ugh–“ the Doctor burst out, his face wrinkled in horror. He took off the fedora. “I never did look good in a hat. Blimey! Just give me a guitar and I’d look like John Denver! What was I thinking of?”

The Doctor was fixing his hair, when his gazed dropped to an old black and white photo on the mantelpiece. His eyes widened in horror and he took a sharp intake of breath–then stopped breathing altogether for a moment, blinking in profound astonishment. He snatched the photo from the mantel. With trembling hands, he held the photo up to Marie.

“Wha-what is this?” He stammered.

His face suddenly broke into an expression of pain mixed with anger, as the Doctor turned on Marie.

“Why do you have this photo? Where’d you get it?” He demanded.

Marie looked at the Doctor, confused and a suddenly frightened.

She backed away from the Doctor. As Marie scrunched herself up on the sofa, she swallowed hard, her face pale and trembling. Maybe she’d been wrong to trust this Doctor, or Fred or whatever his name was, she thought to herself. Maybe he was just as mad as Uncle Tobias. Maybe he would hurt her worse than Uncle Tobias.

“It-it’s my mom, mister Doc-doctor, sir. It was taken just before she got married.” Marie whispered timidly.

Then, the young girl fell silent. She looked intently at the pattern on the sofa’s covering,absently tracing the outlines of colour on the fabric with her finger, waiting for the worst.

At first, the Doctor couldn’t answer her, couldn’t seem to find his voice. Then, he looked at Marie strangely, and whispered hoarsely,

“Marie, this is a photograph of my mother.”

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