Chapter Text
He couldn’t believe it. It was right in front of him. And he hadn’t even tried to find it.
The question was, what on Earth was a highly dangerous, teleporting vessel and its occupant doing at the… supermarket?
He’d heard word of this “Doctor” not three weeks ago, when five of his intern UNIT technicians had come to him with reports of bizarre, London-wide kidnappings, conducted by an unknown individual employing alien technology.
At first hearing of these events, he’d been moderately alarmed. Until the doctor had broken into his own facility, using his own identity. After that, He’d become extremely alarmed.
Worse still, three of his employees were now missing. Josephine Grant, Liz Shaw, Harry Sullivan. None of them had reported in all week, and their offices were directly in the path this “Doctor” would have taken. The scanning locks on all three doors were broken.
For three weeks, a sizeable portion of UNIT had been devoted to a city-wide manhunt, which had turned up little other than a bit of camera footage, and a brief encounter that ended in a concussed, yet otherwise unharmed field agent.
Considering the amount of effort he’d put into finding this ‘Doctor,’ he hadn’t really expected it to go this way.
For the Doctor’s vehicle was in fact parked neatly in the middle of its stall between a first generation mini cooper hatchback, and an overturned shopping cart. In front of Tesco.
The Brigadier promptly ducked behind the mini cooper, pulling his scarf over his face (both to conceal his identity, and to block out the bitterly cold wind). He looked down and cursed, realizing he had knelt directly in a patch of snow that had yet to be melted by the car tires.
There were voices coming from the box. The Brigadier clicked the button on the recording device concealed in his overcoat.
“Doctor, sometimes I can’t believe you. All of time and space at your disposal, and you don’t have an ounce of decent breakfast food.”
“I’m not sure that’s entirely fair. I had plenty of neptunian cuisine.”
“Yes, but I can’t eat that, Doctor, as you informed me.”
“That’s not quite what I said, Sarah. ‘Can’t’ is a strong word. More like shouldn’t, without the proper precautions.”
There was a pause. The Brigadier tuned the dial on his recorder a bit to account for the wind. This must be Sarah Jane then. She was first on the list of suspected victims. That practically confirmed that this was the doctor, if the blue box hadn’t done that already.
“Yes, well personally I think some eggs on toast are a safer bet. And you could use some too, Doctor, you’ve been working on that console of yours all night… well I suppose it still is night. You couldn’t have dropped us somewhere in the morning? They’ll think we’re mad, buying breakfast food at ten-thirty in the evening.”
“You realize, people thinking I’m mad isn’t exactly out of the ordinary for me?”
The voices faded into the distance. The Brigadier stowed his recorder, and crept around the side of the car. Now that the ‘Doctor’ was gone, he’d be able to get a look at that blue box. How the poor woman could stand being in such close quarters with that vile kidnapper he’d never know.
Friendly as they sounded, he strongly suspected Stockholm syndrome.
The Brigadier approached the box, and pressed his ear against the side. No voices talking, no suspicious timers ticking. That’s good. He shoved on the door to see how much give the wood had. Yes, I think I can kick that in without too much trouble. He geared up a bit, before sending a practically winter-booted foot into a section of door adjacent to the doorjamb.
The door stubbornly refrained from splintering, only making an oddly displeased sounding creak. He tried again, this time with a bit of a running start. The door still refused to give. The Brigadier hopped back up to standing, and considered the door. No metal, and yet it won’t give… It occurred to him that given what he knew of the ‘Doctor,’ the door could easily be reinforced through more alien methods.
“Alright then. I’d best try a finer approach, I think,” mused the Brigadier, pulling a set of lock picks out of his pocket, and inserting two into the door.
Ten minutes later, it occurred to him that he’d been attempting to get through that door for an awfully long time.
“Looking for something, old chap?” The Brigadier froze. Ah. Oh dear. He decisively dropped the lock picks into the snow, turning around sharply.
“Vehicle inspection, sir. I don’t believe a single ounce of this is regulation.”
The Brigadier was excellent at looking authoritative, and here he did so, directing thirty years of authority towards the man standing before him. He took in the sight of the velvet coat, ruffled shift, and cloud of white hair—utter confirmation that this was the ‘Doctor,’ and thus a highly dangerous individual—unflinchingly.
The woman—Sarah—stood a little bit behind him, as though the Brigadier were someone to be frightened of compared to the man who accompanied her.
The Doctor paused, peering over his paper shopping bag at the Brigadier.
“Excuse me sir, but could you please repeat that? It’s rather hard to hear you through the scarf there.” He gestured to the red wooly scarf that the Brigadier had wrapped around his face earlier. The Brigadier impatiently tugged it down, irritated.
“What I said, is that I have confiscated this vehicle in the name of the Unified Intelligence Taskforce. I’m afraid you’ll have to show me more than a few permits if you even hope to explain how this thing could possibly be allowed to drive on London roads.”
The Doctor raised both eyebrows.
“An intelligence taskforce? I can’t imagine what you’d have to do with me then. I’ve been told I’m quite an idiot,” he said, with a sort of affability that anyone who didn’t know who he was would have found genuine.
Sarah rolled her eyes, and drew her green peacoat tighter around herself.
“Really Doctor, must you make jokes now? I’d really rather not be stuck out in this snow any longer than I have to be, thank you, my nose is already red as Rudolph’s. Just show him your papers, and we can get on with it.”
The Doctor blinked.
“Ah, you’re quite right, Sarah, my ‘papers,’ as it were—actually, could you hold this?” he said, all but forcing his paper shopping bag into the Brigadier’s arms, and then proceeding to pat down every one of his pockets. “I was sure it was in here somewhere, one second. Oh, and could you hold this also?”
He handed the Brigadier a small, octagonal box with air holes cut into the side. The box hissed. The Brigadier did not flinch, thank you, merely clamping the lid down firmly. “Ah! Got it. I have the permits right here, as issued by the city of London. The two of us are in the parade next week, and we’re doing a bit of a durability test on the float.”
He handed the Brigadier a compact leather wallet, and took back his box and shopping bag. Behind him, Sarah nodded sagely.
“If it can make it to the grocery store and back, it’s fit for the parade. That’s how we test them.”
The papers, of course, appeared perfectly genuine. However, the Brigadier had one more thing he could try.
“I’ll need to see an inspection of the inside.” If there was another vicim locked in there, the game would be up, so to speak, and he’d be free to arrest him. To his surprise, the Doctor nodded readily,
“Of course, feel free.” He took a key out of his pocket, and unlocked the door. “After you.” The Brigadier raised an eyebrow.
“After you, actually. Protocol, you understand.”
“Naturally. Sarah?” He reached out a gloved hand, helping Sarah up the step, and opening the door with his elbow. The two of them stepped into the box, the interior of which could not be seen, for lack of light. The Brigadier made sure to get his foot in the doorframe, just in case this ‘Doctor’ tried to slam the door on him.
“The lady stays outside, sir. Protocol.” The ‘Doctor’ poked his head out.
“That doesn’t sound like protocol to me,” he said, sounding distinctly unfriendly for the first time since this entire encounter had begun.
“I’m afraid it is.” The Brigadier made sure to get a hand around his UNIT-issued dart gun. The ‘Doctor’ narrowed his eyes.
“Well, I don’t see why it should be. Both of us are owners of this vehicle, and there should be no difference between her and me under the law. And you sir, don’t seem very official to me in that getup.” He gestured to what was admittedly, not the Brigadier’s uniform, considering he too had been out to get groceries. “Why should I believe anything you say?”
The Brigadier drew himself up.
“Because I know what you’ve been doing all this time, ‘doctor.’ Kidnapping innocent men and women. Possession of alien property. Maybe murder too, who knows. And if this young lady wants to get out of the box, leaving you, and get on with her normal life a free woman, you can’t stop her anymore. Because I’ll stop you.”
The Doctor stepped outside.
“You know, I rather think you won’t,” he said, as Sarah stepped out to join him. “Stay behind me, Sarah, I believe this man is armed.” The Brigadier raised his dart gun, pointing it between the man’s eyebrows.
“You’re right about that. Now let her go.” The ‘Doctor,’ quick as a striking snake, drew a weapon of his own, a small silver device, and pointed it at the Brigadier in turn.
“We seem to have a stalemate, my friend. With emphasis on the ‘seem to.’ Because you see, you have little chance of winning this one. Now, if you choose to lower your weapon and conduct yourself peacefully, I’ll let you go.”
The Brigadier narrowed his eyes, and flipped the safety off on the dart gun.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” He was ready to fire, he almost did… and then Sarah jumped in front of the gun.
“Wait!” She said, hands raised in front of her.
“Sarah, I said stay behind me!” the ‘Doctor’ barked, not taking his eyes—or that silver device—off of the Brigadier.
“Doctor, I don’t think he’s going to shoot me. There’s been a misunderstanding. Look, officer, look at me. I’m perfectly healthy, I’m happy, and I want to stay with the Doctor. Whatever you think he’s guilty of, I can assure you that he isn’t.” The Brigadier’s face softened. Stockholm for sure. She’s been with him for months now, it’s not surprising. But now she has the opportunity to run, and that means something.
“Sarah. That’s your name isn’t it? You don’t have to pretend to be happy anymore. You can run, right now. Go back to your life. He can’t hurt you, but you have to go now.” He took his gaze off of the ‘Doctor’ to look into her eyes—and this was his mistake.
The humming noise could be heard, and the dart gun grew very hot in his hand, forcing him to drop it. He took in a sharp breath, clutching his hand.
“Sarah, into the TARDIS if you please,” said the ‘Doctor,’ stowing the device, and stepping up calmly to meet the Brigadier—who was already in the process of throwing an expertly trained punch that would have done some nasty damage had it actually connected.
However, before it could land, the ’Doctor’ whirled into action, catching him by the wrist, and promptly throwing him head over heels into a snowbank. The Brigadier slammed into the snow, wind knocked out of him. He recovered quickly, starting to scramble upright, only to be grabbed by the shoulders and forced back down. “I think not, old chum.” The Brigadier attempted to throw the ‘Doctor’ off, only to find the silver device pointed at his throat. He froze.
“Sarah,” called the ‘Doctor.’ “It’s alright, I’ve got him. Could you grab one of those neutron-forged manacles? They’re on one of the coat hooks.”
“Already have one, Doctor.” Sarah Jane’s face came into view.
“Doctor, are you mad? We can’t chain him up in the snow like this, he could freeze!” The ‘Doctor’ glanced up at her.
“Sarah, I do believe this man just attempted some elaborate deception in order to break into the TARDIS—and quite possibly target you, judging on his focus on you thus far—and then pulled a gun on me when it failed. Frankly, whether he’s a bit nippy is the least of my concerns. Besides, it’s only slightly below freezing.”
“He’s human, Doctor. And the store will close soon. It’s quite possible no one will find him until morning.” The ‘Doctor’ sighed.
“Well, I don’t see that we have many other options. What do you suggest?” Sarah shrugged.
“Knock him out and drag him somewhere else. Use a bit of Time Lord tomfoolery or whatnot—you’re the expert on that—and we’ll leave him somewhere warm for the police to find.” The ‘Doctor’ paused, considering.
“Yes, I suppose that should be fine.” He turned back to the Brigadier, who was lying there considering whether he could rip the device out of the Doctor’s hand and make a break for it. Judging by the man’s speed from earlier, he unfortunately thought that unlikely.
So he turned to Sarah Jane.
“Run,” he mouthed silently. She shook her head.
“Sorry about this, old chum. I’m afraid you may have rather a bad headache upon awakening. I recommend a glass of orange juice, and a bit of a lie down.”
“Doctor, another car just drove into the lot,” said Sarah, voice taking on a tone of urgency. “And we’ve been plenty conspicuous already.”
“Quite right, we’d best finish this quickly,” said the ‘Doctor,’ as the Brigadier unsuccessfully attempted to throw him off once again. The hand holding the silver device left his field of view, and the Brigadier felt a sharp pinch between his neck and shoulder. Ha, the idiot. That only works in movies. I’ll just pretend to pass out, and then I…
Strangely enough, everything started going a bit gray at that point. Who knew?
The last thing he heard was the most peculiar whooshing noise, and he had the sensation that the world was tilting sideways.
And then nothing.