• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

'A game of pool...'

'You know how to treat a girl.'

'.. .and we'll go on to Molly's'

'A pub?'

'Bit more exclusive than that,' said Fitz. He rubbed his hands.'Didn't I mention I only move in the most exclusive of circles?'

'Sure that doesn't translate as a world of your own?'

Fitz's face fell very slightly, he looked a little more vulnerable. Sam looked at him and smiled to herself as they walked along. He was older than she -

about twenty-six, twenty-seven - which would make him forty-four when she was born. Which meant he was in his sixties when she met the Doctor...

What becomes of you, anyway? she wondered. You're just dossing around here, passing time, taking things as they come.You don't know anything about holes in the ozone layer, global warming, recycling. There's no AIDS

in your world, no HIV tests, no Femidoms or twelve-packs of Durex. It's all easy, isn't it? None of the guilt and the crap I've had foisted on me since I could talk.

God, I'm being patronising. This is how my mum would act. But look at you, Fitz Kreiner... Imagine if I showed you what music sounds like on CD. Or if we rented a film on video and watched it on a widescreen colour TV.

You've got no PC, no Super-Nintendo, no idea of all the rat-race stuff you're missing. Multiplexes, satellite TV, all the naffness of the nineties...

No cashpoints, for God's sake. There are no heart transplants in your world, no gene splicing or moon landings, but you've got Cold War and Germany in two halves and You've Never Had It So Good... Christ, this is weird. My past, your present. What am I even doing here?

Sam couldn't lose the sensation of standing out, of being watched. She looked down at the pavement

as she walked.

***

Fitz looked at Sam again, walking along beside him. His gaze flicked down.

Great arse, he thought, happily.

***

'Believe me, Doctor, by working with these people, by helping them come to terms with their illness

-'

'Come to terms?'The Doctor raised an eyebrow at Roley. 'Come on. You're not just hoping some common denominator's going to make itself blindingly obvious through group work, are you?' He shook his head. 'You're pushing them, goading them. Forcing them to face things they can't deal with, and triggering relapses as a result.'

Roley's voice came out wobbly and high-pitched. 'I wasn't aware you'd attended my sessions, Doctor. I rather feel that I am perhaps better acquainted with the personalities of these poor unfortunates than yourself.'

'Fine. Soon sort that out. Let me meet them.'

Roley stared at him, aghast. 'Out of the question.'

'If I'm going to help you, I'm going to have to meet them.'

'Help me? You're being preposterous, man,' cried Roley.

'What are you afraid of?' asked the Doctor, innocently.

'I invite you into my home, I discuss my work with you...'

'And now I'm offering you a second opinion.' He smiled, suddenly. 'It's a very learned one, by the way.'

As Roley opened his mouth to object further, the door was flung open, and a dark-haired woman galloped into the room, tall and lithe. She skidded to a halt on the polished wooden floor of the room by the desk, her long, black, cotton dress flapping around her. She looked up at the Doctor, her eyes hazel and large in her white, round face.

'So sorry, Dr Roley,' the woman said, without appearing to mean it. 'I didn't realise we had a visitor.'

'Ah, Lucy.' Dr Roley took a deep breath, either to calm himself down or to steel himself for dealing with this latest interruption to his work. 'What can I do for you, then, hmm?'

'Or to you,' offered the Doctor.

Roley smiled, thinly. 'Er, this is... Well, easier I think if you just call him the Doctor, Lucy.'

'Doctor. OK. Hello. Doctor and Doctor.' Lucy giggled.

'Doctor, this is Lucy Branch, one of my, er, guests.'

'Delighted.'

The Doctor bowed slightly, and Lucy grinned. 'Where's your little girlfriend?'

she asked, peering at him, stepping closer.

'I thought you