Doctor Who_ Psi-Ence Fiction - Chris Boucher [27]
Jelly babies. I take jelly babies. Would you care for a jelly baby?' He pulled the bag from his pocket.
Parnaby ignored the bag. 'I tell you what,' he suggested, maintaining the same carefully calm voice he had been using all along, 'why don't we go to my office? We can have a bit of a sit-down. You can tell me all about it.
Maybe there's someone we can call.'
Call?'
To help,' Parnaby said, shaking his head and shrugging theatrically in a rather obvious attempt to keep his suggestion vague and unthreatening. 'If there was someone you felt might be able to help. Someone who's helped you before? Do you remember anyone like that?'
'Like a doctor you mean?' the Doctor teased.
'Not necessarily,' Parnaby lied.
The Doctor couldn't resist it. He leant closer to Parnaby and, lowering his voice a little, confided, 'As coincidence would have it, I am the Doctor'
'Of course you are,' Parnaby agreed. 'So what do you think then? Shall we go to my office and chat for a while?'
'Why not,' the Doctor said. Parnaby, he decided, was clearly more than just a man who was reluctant to be rude to strangers: he was actually concerned to be of assistance. The Doctor didn't need the sort of help he had in mind, of course, but nevertheless kindness, all kinds of kindness, should always be acknowledged and encouraged.
Parnaby took him lightly by the arm and began to lead him down the corridor. 'I didn't catch your name,' he said tentatively.
'I didn't throw it,' the Doctor chortled, and he was suddenly washed through with a warm flood of gratitude towards the diminutive thinker for reminding him of innocent times long past. It had been such a long time since he was able to use that joke or anything nearly as funny. He had always found nostalgia puzzling, but now for the first time it seemed he could understand it properly. He felt small tears gathering and trickling into the corners of his eyes. He missed so many things; all gone and lost to him; lost and for ever out of reach. He missed himself as he was. He had changed. He missed the Time Lord he had been. He missed the past so very much.
Missed the past so very much? That was absurd. He was a Time Lord -
how could he possibly be missing the past? That made no sense at all.
There was something wrong here. He was not thinking normally.
Something was definitely affecting him. Could it be the water?
'I'm Bill Parnaby,' Parnaby persisted meanwhile. 'And you are'
I'm the Doctor,' the Doctor said. 'I already told you that: Parnaby nodded. 'Just the Doctor.'
'That's right. Just the Doctor.' The warm flood of gratitude had drained away. Parnaby was beginning to irritate him.
'Just the Doctor. That's cool.' Parnaby was still nodding understanding. 'I can understand that.'
The Doctor glowered. No you can't. You have no idea what I'm talking about.' He thought: I have no idea what I'm talking about so I'm quite sure you don't. It must be the water. He tried to work out how long it was since he had drunk any of it.
'I didn't mean to offend you,' Parnaby said anxiously.
"That's because you think I'm mad,' the Doctor said, and you're afraid I might be violent. Well I'm not violent. And I'm not mad. So be a good little philosopher and stop patronising me!'
'Or what?' Parnaby asked. 'You'll use gratuitous abuse to demonstrate your pacifism and mental stability?'
'Is it a coincidence,' the Doctor asked, ignoring the philosopher's comment,
'that time travel and parapsychology are both being studied at this university?'
'No,' Parnaby said flatly. "There you are you see? I can give you a straight answer to a straight question. No, it is not a coincidence.'
They reached Parnaby's office and he unlocked the door. It is not a coincidence because time travel is not being studied at this university.' He ushered the Doctor inside. 'Have a seat.'
The