Firefly/Doctor Who crossover fic: A Different Kind of Companion: A Lesson in History (6/9)

[locker_monster]

Title: A Different Kind of Companion: A Lesson in History (6/9)
Rating: PG
Characters: Ten, Inara
Timeline: Post "The Runaway Bride" for Doctor Who and post "Serenity" the movie for Firefly
Summary: After an unplanned detour to Earth's past, the Doctor and Inara must stop the creation of a disruptive paradox.
Disclaimer: Only in some wacky alternative reality would I own Doctor Who or Firefly.
A/N: The long-awaited sequel to "A Different Kind of Companion". A huge thanks goes out to my beta, browncoat_2x2 , who is made of awesome.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five.





“The wrong place at the wrong time” seemed to be the general theme of the Doctor’s life. How many times had he landed somewhere only to be mistaken for the enemy and be carried away to be interrogated? Pleading ignorance had become a reflex, no matter how many times no one bothered to believe him, and he was prepared to do the same with Wimperis.

The Major continued on before the Doctor could begin to form a response. “I see I was wise to doubt Smith’s assurances that you were a trusted source. What have you been up to this last month? Plotting with Matthews to make fools out of us?”

Wimperis stepped up close to the Doctor, though with his shorter height the man was forced to look up at the Doctor, ruining the imposing presence he was trying to muster. The sudden invasion of his personal space didn’t even register with the Doctor. From behind the Major, Inara caught his attention. She mouthed the words, “A month?” Clearly their current predicament was the last thing on her mind as well.

A month. The strain of sending one last message between realities and fighting off the Empress of the Racnoss had damaged the TARDIS more than he realized. A simple spatial shift of a few blocks shouldn’t have thrown them ahead a few weeks.

“I assure you, Major Wimperis, that we have a very logical reason for being here.” Though what that was the Doctor didn’t know yet. If Matthews was missing then that certainly cast him and Inara in a bad light.

“Assurances from you now?” Wimperis laughed bitterly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you were partnered with Matthews.”

“I was trying to dissuade you from investing.”

“More trickery. You convince the government not to invest and then another country shows interest in the ray, thus driving up Matthews’ asking price. In turn, we offer Matthews more money and the two of you leave the matter all the richer.”

“Three,” Inara offered offhandedly from the background, wholly forgotten by the Major during his tirade.

“You’re investing in Matthews,” realized the Doctor. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and looked down at Wimperis to address him more sternly. “You don’t need energy weapons! Go down this path and you’ll wipe out all of human civilization.”

“Have you seen war?” Wimperis’ tone changed as he asked the question. He still eyed the Doctor suspiciously but he spoke softly. “Men struck down without provocation, families displaced from their homes, children crying for their mothers in the middle of war torn streets.”

The Doctor looked away from Wimperis. He had seen it all and more, with horrors beyond imagining. War on a global scale could hardly compare to a war fought across time and space.

Wimperis seemed to mistake the Doctor’s silence for cowardice. The man shook his head sadly. “If you had fought, you would understand. We have the power to end all that. We are saving civilization.”

But the end result wasn’t always something one should see. The Doctor could imagine Great Britain standing alone amongst the destruction it had wrought against its enemies, staring in disbelief at the new civilization it had created. Powerful weapons could end wars but they also left ruin in their wake. Being the survivor didn’t mean you were the one who gained a victory.

He and Wimperis could have argued all day, but when Inara ducked out of the room, the Doctor had to pause. He dodged around the Major, wondering if Inara had decided to return to the TARDIS. Additional voices sounded from the vestibule and he heard Inara engage the newcomers in conversation. It became immediately obvious they were also looking for Matthews.

“What now,” muttered Wimperis.

Inara stepped back into the room followed by a trio of men. Her expression was calm but the Doctor could see a spark of anxiety in her eyes. “These men tell me Matthews left for the airport a few minutes ago. They were hoping they could stop him before he departed for France.”

“We were granted an injunction.” The oldest of the men, who sported a beard flecked with gray, motioned to the bespectacled man beside him. A file was produced from a briefcase. “Harry can’t sell the rights to his death ray to anyone else.”

“Afraid you’d lose your investment, Gubbins?” said Wimperis, his tone mocking.

“You should be pleased that I thought ahead, Major. I’ve just ensured that Great Britain will be the only country to wield this weapon.”

Wimperis stepped forward to deliver another retort, but the Doctor stepped in between them before either man could speak. He held up his hands to prevent the two from coming any closer. “Every second you waste arguing, the further away Matthews becomes. You can act like school children after you stop him.”

Gubbins and Wimperis held each other’s gaze for a moment longer before turning away. “Now, if you excuse me, I have a mad scientist to catch.”

“Hardly.” Wimperis gripped the Doctor by the arm and held on tight. “You’re likely to keep us from reaching Matthews. No, you’re coming with me. Gubbins, you have a car waiting outside no doubt?”

“Yes, but–”

“It’s just been commandeered by the British Government.”

Wimperis shoved the Doctor out of the door, forcing Gubbins and his lawyers to scatter. In the vestibule, the TARDIS was still parked to the side and the Doctor thought of making a break for it while he had a chance. If he could make it to the time machine he could locate and reach Matthews before Wimperis. But before he could even take a step, Wimperis pushed him out onto the street. The Doctor fought to keep his balance, his arms flailing to avoid stumbling to the ground. Despite his shorter stature, Wimperis was certainly a powerful man.

A black car waited at the edge of the curb, its engine idling. Shouting at the driver, Wimperis opened the back door, fully prepared to coerce the Doctor inside like a police officer manhandling a handcuffed suspect.

The Doctor grabbed onto the frame of the door. “Major Wimperis,” he began, using the man’s title in hopes it would aid his appeal, “I agree we need to stop Matthews, but you need to promise me you will let this death ray die.”

“You should listen to him.” Inara came up beside the Major. “If you truly believe in the safety of this country, you will reconsider the government’s decision.”

“The advice of strangers.” Wimperis laughed harshly. “Why should I trust you?” With one last shove, he forced the Doctor into the car. Landing awkwardly on his back, the Doctor’s view of the world for a few seconds was just of the roof of the car. The sounds of Wimperis and Inara entering the car and slamming the doors were his only indication they were all together. With as much speed as a 1920s car could muster, they took off down the street.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” Inara asked Wimperis.

The Major smiled smugly and opened his mouth to speak. “We’re…” And then he faltered, the smile disappearing.

It was Inara’s turn to smile, but it wasn’t the smile she reserved for clients or social gatherings. “Croydon Aerodrome,” she shouted to the driver.

The Doctor didn’t bother to hide the grin that overcame him.

“If you had taken the time to talk to Gubbins rather than rushing off you would have realized you have similar goals. Do you always prepare yourself for a battle, Major Wimperis?” Inara spoke with elegance but she had an edge to her voice that granted her an air of credence.

“Better to take a swing than to take a hit,” replied Wimperis.

“But what if you miss?”

The car rumbling along, the driver honking his horn to try to clear a speedier path. As much as he had enjoyed driving a similar make of car during his extended stay on Earth, the Doctor was reminded just how agonizingly slow they were as well. Appearing instantly in one place then another was much more efficient.

Wimperis remained silent, whether because Inara had made a valid point or because he had just been bested by a woman the Doctor couldn’t tell. “You may not believe a word I say,” said the Doctor, taking advantage of the silence, “but I know the truth. There are better ways to stop the fighting. You said yourself it’s the innocents who are caught in the crossfire. The same fate will be shared by everyone if you let this continue. When we find Matthews you will tell him the British Government is taking its investments elsewhere.”

The airstrip loomed in the distance, the drone of the small airplanes taking off growing louder as they approached. Inara quietly instructed the driver to drive onto the airstrip, citing a plane number she must have picked up from Gubbins. The Doctor remained focused on Wimperis.

One man. That’s all it took sometimes. One person to stand up and say something.

Wimperis turned slowly to regard the Doctor. On the airstrip, the car was dwarfed by the rows of planes being loaded and unloaded with cargo and passengers. When their gazes met, the Doctor knew instantly what Wimperis’ response would be.

“Who are you to decide the fate of the world? You act as if you’re the most important man who ever lived and that your opinion alone is the one worth listening to. Tell me, are you ever wrong? Because I highly doubt you actually let others express what they think is right.”

The roar of powerful engines engulfed all other sounds. A sleek, metallic gray airplane rocketed down the runway, its twin propellers turning at dizzying speeds. From Inara’s look of disappointment, the Doctor knew it was Matthews’ plane. They were one second too late.

“Out!” Wimperis barked the command. The Doctor and Inara were given only seconds to leave the car before it drove off again. The hem of the Doctor’s coat was very nearly caught in the car door.

In the pristine sky above, Matthews’ plane made its way towards the Channel.

Lightly, Inara placed her hand on the Doctor’s arm. “You tried,” she said softly.

The Doctor started for the front gates. “We still have a chance.” Spying a taxi driver leaning against the hood of his car and smoking a cigarette, the Doctor pulled out the psychic paper. “Do they still speak French in the 26^th century?”