Probable Impossibilities

“Here we are, then!” the Doctor announced as the TARDIS landed, with a cheerfulness that could have been slightly false. Of course, that could just be wishful thinking on Abby’s part. “NCIS Headquarters.”

Tony looked so relieved that Abby wouldn’t be a bit surprised if he dropped to kiss the ground as soon as the door opened. Gibbs said nothing, just moved to the door, opened it and stepped out, looking back at the other two expectantly.

They both followed: Tony eagerly, Abby a lot less so. Once she stepped outside that door, the Doctor would be out of her life again, maybe for good. While she didn’t regret the decision she’d made twenty years ago, she did regret a bit that they’d been so busy finding Harry and rescuing the hipocra that they hadn’t had any time to talk. She still didn’t know why he was wearing a new face–hell, a whole new body–or why the TARDIS had been redecorated so much, or even just what he’d been up to since the last time they met. She hadn’t learned why he seemed so much sadder, so much angrier than the man she’d known.

They were standing outside, in the middle of the parking lot, when Abby stopped and turned to the Doctor. He smiled weakly at her and she found herself fighting tears. Funny, it hadn’t been this hard to leave the first time, even though at the time he’d been her best friend in the entire universe.

“So,” he said fondly. “Abby Sciuto.”

As if triggered by him saying her name in that way that was so reminiscent of who he used to be, Abby found herself blurting out, “Couldn’t you stay for a couple of days? I mean, it’s been twenty years. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do and we didn’t get a chance to do it.”

She knew the answer even before the awkward expression appeared on his face. “Well…”

Abby grinned: she couldn’t help it. It was nice to know some things didn’t change. He still couldn’t bear to stay in one place if there wasn’t something going on to capture his attention. “Yeah, that’s kinda what I thought.”

“You could come along, you know,” he suggested instead.

Abby rolled her eyes at him. “Didn’t we already have this argument?”

“I don’t mean long term,” he defended himself. “But perhaps just one trip for old times’ sake? We could go to Vorja…it’s been a while, and you never did get the chance to see if civilisation had collapsed in your absence.”

Oh, damn it, he still knew just how to tempt her. Abby hesitated.

“Where’s Vorja?” Tony asked. Abby almost jumped–for a moment she’d forgotten he and Gibbs were still there.

“Somewhere in the Orion sector,” the Doctor answered absently, not giving the crucial information as usual.

“It’s a planet. I won it in a card game,” she explained. “Long story, but the Doctor tried to use it to get me to stay when I’d decided I was ready to go home.” She glared at him. “Like just because they’d been owned by aliens for centuries meant they couldn’t govern themselves or something.”

DiNozzo’s jaw made a dive for the asphalt. “You own a planet?”

“Like I said, long story.”

“Well?” the Doctor asked.

Abby looked at Martha. “Can he even do ‘just one trip’?”

Martha grinned and the Doctor looked suddenly sheepish. “No, he can’t. Still, I think between us we ought to be able to keep him mostly in line.”

“Abby,” Gibbs objected. All the excellent reasons why she shouldn’t go were summed up just in the way he said her name.

“It’s okay, Gibbs,” she reassured him. “It’s a time machine, remember? You guys go on ahead.” Abby glanced back at the Doctor and Martha, grinning. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Are you sure, Abs?” he asked, giving her that intense, protective look that he reserved just for her.

“Trouble does seem to follow him,” Tony pointed out. “If the number of people and species he knew involved with this mess is anything to go by.”

“Oh, it’s definitely dangerous. But so is working here, even when I stay in the lab. Remember Chip?” She looked at both of them pointedly before giving Tony a hug and Gibbs a kiss on the cheek. “I told you. It’s the Doctor. Before you guys came along, there was no one in the universe I trusted more than him. I’ll be fine.”

She could tell neither one of them wanted to leave her alone with the Doctor–which she wasn’t, Martha was there too, after all–but eventually they turned away with murmured admonitions to be careful. She’d just have to surprise them when she got back by catching up before they even made it into the building.

With that pleasant thought in mind, Abby turned back to the Doctor and Martha.

“So,” the Doctor said, grinning so broadly it nearly split his face. Boy, it was still a bit weird to look into those eyes and see brown staring back at her instead of blue. “Shall we be off, then?”

“You know,” Martha remarked as the three of them turned back to the TARDIS. “There’s just one thing, Doctor, that I still don’t quite understand.”

He stuck the key in the lock (a real key now–that was weird too!) and asked,”Oh? What’s that?”

“Well…the hipocra captain said they didn’t discover Earth until the Forties, but you’d rather implied that the Hippocratic Oath was based on their culture. How is that possible?”

The Doctor looked sheepish. “Well…I suppose I might have mentioned something to Hippocrates…what with the similarity in name…”

Martha and Abby looked at each other and laughed.

It was the noise that woke her: a strange whistling, whining, grinding sound like nothing she’d ever heard before. Stephanie sat bolt upright in her bed, staring into the darkness for a moment with her heart pounding before she finally thought to look at the digital alarm clock on the bedside table. It was just after four AM.

Clambering out of bed, she fumbled carefully in the dark for the gun she kept in the bedside drawer, not wanting to alert her intruder that she was awake by turning on the light. She crept into the other room on quiet feet, adrenaline and blood still pumping in her ears. Luckily she hadn’t taken the safety off yet, though, because when she stepped into the room to find an enormous blue phone booth sitting in the middle of it, she almost dropped the gun.

She did drop it when the door opened, and out stepped the last person on Earth she’d ever expected to see in her apartment in the middle of the night. “Doctor?”

The Doctor opened his mouth to answer but whatever he’d been about to say was interrupted by the emergence of another man from the skinny blue box, one she also recognized: tall, with curly white hair, pleasant features, primly proper in an Admiral’s dress blues. “You found him!” Stephanie blurted out.

The Doctor grinned cheekily at her. “Said I would, didn’t I?”

Only her training prevented her from sprinting across the room and pulling the Admiral into an enthusiastic, grateful hug. Instead, she forcefully gathered her wits together and snapped to attention, giving him probably the best and most proper salute she’d ever given anyone who wasn’t her grandfather. “I thought…how…?”

“That, Lieutenant,” the Admiral said gravely, but with a twinkle in his eye, “is rather a long story. However, there’s a role for you in it, if you like.”

As if the words had been some sort of cue, several more people than should have fit into the tiny space piled out of it–Agent Gibbs, Agent DiNozzo, Miss Sciuto–who’d fingerprinted her, Jacobs and the Marines–and a young woman she’d seen talking with the Doctor as she left NCIS headquarters after her last interview. Then, through the open door, she caught a glimpse of something unbelievable: a room within the box that was probably larger than her living room. It was as if she were staring through the wardrobe door into Narnia.

Heart pounding in her chest, Stephanie looked in amazement at the force that had invaded her apartment from the impossible space. “I think I need a cup of coffee. Do any of you want one?”

There were several murmurs of agreement: Stephanie counted heads silently and made a mental note to check and see if she had more than one coffee pot.

She fled to the kitchen and started throwing open cupboards, already having an idea what she would find–or what she wouldn’t, really–but it gave her something to do to occupy her spinning thoughts. It was almost unbelievable how recently Lieutenant Taylor’s condition had been the most remarkable thing she’d ever seen.

“Can I give you a hand with that?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

Stephanie turned to meet the smiling brown eyes of the one person from the group in her living room that she didn’t know. The young woman smiled. “We never did get a chance to meet properly–I’m Martha.”

“Stephanie,” she answered, returning the smile as well. “And yeah, help would be great. This might take a while–all I have is this little Mr. Coffee.”

Martha chuckled. “Well, it’s a bit early for a morning cuppa, but if you’ve a teapot, I’m sure the Doctor and Harry wouldn’t mind.”

“I thought that was just a stereotype,” Stephanie answered.

“It is.” Martha’s eyes twinkled. “I’ve a mate back home who can’t bear the taste of tea. But most of us don’t mind that particular stereotype too terribly.”

“In that case, cupboard above the sink, bottom shelf, right hand side.”

Martha immediately zeroed in on the cupboard in question, withdrawing the teapot and then following Stephanie’s guidance to locate the tea bags, milk, sugar and mugs. They worked silently side by side for a moment before Martha spoke again.

“I notice no one’s really given much thought to how all this must be for you,” she stated quietly with another sympathetic smile. “I mean…it’s a bit much to take in all at once, isn’t it?”

“It is.” Stephanie was a bit surprised by how relieved she was to have someone to admit that to. “I think my world has been turned upside down more times in the past five days than ever before in my life. But…” She smiled again as something settled in her heart. “I don’t really mind. The world’s turned upside down, yeah, but it’s also gotten bigger and more beautiful. I can’t regret that.”

There was a knowing look in Martha’s eyes as she met Stephanie’s. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

+++

“Boss, you got a minute?” DiNozzo asked quietly.

Gibbs looked up at him, carefully keeping his expression neutral. “Problem, Tony?” He watched the gears start to turn in DiNozzo’s head as the younger man processed the all-too-rare use of his first name.

His hesitation only lasted a moment, though. “Actually, yeah. Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean…covering things up like this?”

Gibbs almost smiled, but managed to hold back at least until there would be no witnesses. That was DiNozzo all right: for a womanizer, he had a surprisingly broad streak of integrity in his make-up. That, plus the brilliance at his job that Tony hid behind the playful exterior, was why Gibbs had hired him in the first place.

Still…a man didn’t survive three divorces without learning all the shades of gray in the world inside and out.

Truth and justice didn’t always go hand in hand. Sometimes the truth didn’t set you free; sometimes it just clouded the issue. That was why he’d bent the rules almost to the breaking point more than once. Why he’d covered for Franks, and why he’d never felt the need to tell anyone how the drug lord responsible for Shannon and Kelly’s deaths had really died.

“You got a better idea, DiNozzo?” he asked frankly.

DiNozzo grimaced. “Not really, no. We were kinda hoping…you would.”

We? Gibbs looked over in Abby’s direction, who was watching the conversation with interest. Figured. Not because DiNozzo couldn’t come up with the concern on his own just fine, but it was more Abby’s style to expect him to fix it.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he drawled.

“I’m not disappointed,” Tony assured him hastily. “I just…hate having to lie to Ziva and McGee.”

“We could erase your memory too, if you want,” Gibbs suggested, giving DiNozzo a hard look.

DiNozzo shook his head, as always living up to Gibbs’ pretty damned high expectations when it really counted. “Tempting as that idea is, I think I’ll pass.” He smiled crookedly. “You and Abby and Ducky have more than enough private jokes already. No way am I going to get voluntarily left out of another one.”

Gibbs did smile that time, but Lieutenant Sawyer and Martha chose that moment to emerge from the kitchen, distracting DiNozzo. By unspoken agreement, the entire party moved into the living room.

“Tomorrow morning,” Admiral Sullivan began the promised explanation once they’d all settled, “when he awakes, your commanding officer will remember the events of the past few days in the following manner: a week ago, an unidentified craft was spotted and intercepted apparently on course to Norfolk. Presuming hostile intent when all attempts at communication were rebuffed, the craft was shot down.”

Lieutenant Sawyer nodded.

Admiral Sullivan continued, and suddenly his story began to diverge from the facts. “The craft was unmanned, and upon crashing, the wreckage seemed to dissolve, leaving no evidence as to its origin. However, in light of this incident, the United States government has demanded greater participation in the Unified Intelligence Task Force. I was sent both to brief the highest levels of power in the US Armed Forces, etcetera, but also to select certain individuals from all branches of your military to act as UNIT liasons out of the New York office.” He set down his coffee and looked at Sawyer. “So, Lieutenant. How would you like to come to New York?”

For a second the Lieutenant looked like she was going to drop her cup. “Me, Sir?”

“Why not?” he asked. “You’ve already proven yourself to keep a clear head in extraordinary circumstances. That’s precisely the sort of individual we need at UNIT.”

“So, what, the fact that an admiral of a foreign government went missing for a day on my watch is just going to be conveniently forgotten?” she asked in disbelief, glancing over at Agent Gibbs, who was nursing his own cup of coffee like it was his best friend.

“Yep,” he drawled with no little irony in his voice, keeping his face as stony as ever.

“It will be believed that I spent the past few days attempting to sway one or more of Agent Gibbs’ subordinates away from his side,” Admiral Sullivan provided the elaboration that would not be forthcoming from Gibbs.

“Y’know, even all things considered? I still don’t know how keen I am on that idea,” Abby chipped in, frowning.

“Me too,” Martha confessed. “I mean…I understand the whys and wherefores, but still it seems a bit…”

“Dicey?” Abby finished for her.

Martha nodded, as did both Sawyer and DiNozzo. The sentiment seemed echoed on every other face in the room, except the Doctor’s.

“It certainly seems preferable to the alternative,” the Doctor answered blithely, not seeming to pick up on the general mood of discomfort.

Glances were exchanged all around, Gibbs being careful to reveal nothing in his even though he knew his people already knew his answer. “Yes,” Admiral Sullivan broke the uncomfortable silence. “I suppose it is.”

“Will I have to forget again too?” Sawyer blurted out, as if the idea had just occurred to her.

“Not at all,” the Doctor said, flashing her a broad grin. “I think you’ve more than proved your good will, not only to us but also to the hipocra.”

“Hence the job offer,” Admiral Sullivan chimed in with a smile of his own. “So, what say you, Lieutenant?”

“I don’t think I could go back if I wanted to,” Stephanie said. “So I guess I might as well go forward.”

“That’s the spirit!” The Doctor exclaimed.

“So that’s it, then? Crisis over?” DiNozzo asked.

Gibbs answered before the Doctor could, his words clipped and his tone firm: “That’s it.”

DiNozzo nodded, his mouth twisted into a rueful frown, then summed things up with his own unique brand of honesty: “Well…that was anticlimactic.”

All things considered, the hipocrae were remarkably gracious hosts. With help from the nanotechnology that formed the basis of all their more, er, visible technology, they had quickly adapted to Harry’s nourishment and toilet needs, along with sleep cycles, and provided quite comfortably for them.

Nor need he fear boredom, as his days were occupied with learning about his remarkable new friends and tending to the health of the other members of Flight 19 who still remained aboard the vessel: both their physical health and, well, to a degree mental as well. It could hardly come as anything less than a shock to discover one had been missing for over sixty years.

The one thing he had not yet managed to do, however, was the one thing they had really asked of him: find a way to peaceably resolve the imprisonment of their comrade. Perhaps if he’d some idea where the captured hipocra was being held, he might be able to orchestrate some variety of jail break and advise his new friends to simply erase the entire incident from memory as they’d done with his escort. However, considering he had been brought to the country under false pretenses–he suspected he would have been asked to examine the alien only once the Americans had deemed him trustworthy–and even Lieutenant Sawyer had not known, he felt disappointingly helpless to provide any true assistance.

So it was with no little relief–and some small amusement as well–that he greeted the familiar wheezing sound that suddenly echoed through the cobalt crystalline corridors of the hipocra vessel. That relief faded somewhat when the TARDIS materialized and not one but three strangers stepped out, with the Doctor nowhere to be seen.

Then he remembered what Sarah had told him once: that when she’d first met the Doctor, he’d had an entirely different aspect, which was why the one he was familiar with had been placed in his care in the first place. The only question that remained was…which of the two men (or the woman, though that seemed less likely) was the Doctor?

The silver-haired one had a distinct air of authority about him, which made him the most likely candidate. But no, Harry reminded himself from past experience with the Doctor, that very likely was what disqualified him. The other…

Harry smiled. The second man was wearing a blue suit with a wine coloured tie and a brown coat that didn’t match in the least. And when he glanced down at the newcomer’s feet…surely only the Doctor would wear trainers with business attire.

He stepped forward, the nanites parting to let him through, and said pleasantly, “Hello, Doctor. I must say, old chap, I’m dashed pleased to see you.”

“Harry!” the man he’d correctly identified as the Doctor exclaimed, his face splitting into an ear-to-ear smile. He bounded across the chamber, pulling the startled Harry into a bear hug before pulling back and grinning at him yet again. “Can’t take you anywhere without getting into trouble–really, abducted by aliens? Making rather a habit of this, aren’t you?”

Harry frowned at him with as much wounded dignity as he could muster. “I’ll have you know, Doctor, that the last alien who abducted me was you.”

“Alien?” the authoritative one echoed, giving the Doctor a wary look.

“Abducted?” This from the young woman in black pigtails and a style of dress that he believed the youngsters called “punk”. She folded her arms across her chest and pinned the Doctor with a look that demanded explanation.

“It was a joke!” he defended himself. “As for everything that followed, well, you might say the Time Lords abducted all of us. Hardly something you can lay at my door.” The Doctor turned back to Harry. “Besides which, this is hardly the time or the place: we’ve an abducted alien of our own to see safely home. Don’t suppose you could call one of our hosts, could you?”

Harry more sensed than saw one of the hipocra come up behind them as soon as its presence was requested. It merged through the sometimes-permeable wall as easily as he himself had done a moment before. Glancing back, he had no trouble determining which of them had joined them: while the hipocra were so alien to the human experience as to defy description, each one was in their own way as unique and distinctive as any human being. This was the one he’d dubbed in his mind “the Captain”.

“You are the Doctor?” the Captain asked.

The Doctor’s mood changed at once as he turned his attention to the alien. “Yes, I am. And I want you to know, your pilot is safe. It’s resting comfortably in the TARDIS infirmary.”

“Infirmary?” Harry asked, suddenly worried. “Oh dear. May I examine it?”

“Not to worry, Harry,” the Doctor promised him. “My companion, Martha, has got him well in hand. She’s not a doctor just yet, but she’s in training.”

Harry felt momentarily disoriented. “Then this young lady…?”

That young lady smiled pertly. “Oh, I’m with him,” she stated, hooking a thumb in the direction of the other man. “I used to hang out with the Doctor, but at least a face or two ago.”

“Ah.” Harry couldn’t help but smile even though he was only slightly less confused. “You have my sympathies, my dear. However, I’m afraid I still don’t quite understand…”

The grey-haired man stepped forward, extending a hand. “Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, US Naval Criminal Investigative Service. My team and I were assigned to find you. This is Abby.”

“To find me? Oh dear,” Harry stated gravely, accepting the offered hand. “That can’t have been an easy task, given the circumstances.”

Miss Sciuto grinned. “Lucky we got mixed up with the Doctor, then, isn’t it?”

Harry chuckled under his breath. “Young lady, I am never quite sure which direction to assume my fortune has taken when my path crosses with the Doctor.”

Eyes sparkling, the young woman nodded. “Well, duh! That’s half the fun.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that, for in spite of everything, she was quite right. It was almost a pity he’d grown far too old to be doing this sort of thing regularly any longer. Thank heaven for small favours.

The Doctor himself looked pained by their merriment. “Well, now that we’re all acquainted…” He turned to the captain. “Martha and Agent Gibbs’ man, DiNozzo, are waiting just inside the TARDIS with your pilot. I just felt it wise to offer up a word of warning first–it’s…not well.”

The Captain nodded its extraordinary head, seeming subdued and almost resigned. “May I see?”

The Doctor nodded and stepped back, opening the door and calling out, “Martha?”

A moment later, two more people emerged from the TARDIS–Harry’d never seen it so crowded, for all its infinite space. The first was a petite young woman who reminded him instantly of Lieutenant Sawyer not only in looks, but also in the proud, practical way she carried herself. Behind her was a young man about the age the Doctor currently appeared, carrying the hipocra pilot in his arms.

Harry got his first good look at the creature, and promptly felt all the colour drain from his face. “Oh dear.”

“Oh dear” was probably a vast understatement. Compared with the other hipocrae he’d seen on the ship, this creature had lost near a quarter of its total body mass, and the cool silver bioluminescence that typified its comrades had, in this individual, faded almost entirely.

“I did what I could for it,” Martha confessed. “But I’m afraid I don’t know very much about hipocra physiology.”

The Captain approached. As unfamiliar as Harry himself was with this race, he couldn’t help but think the being looked very tired. “I have already sent for one of our own physicians,” it answered. “Thank you for…trying.”

“I’m a doctor…or, well, nearly,” she protested with a weak smile. “That’s what we do.”

Harry found himself suddenly, irrationally very proud of this unknown girl. Perhaps she reminded him of another young woman the Doctor had taken under his wing…or even a certain young Navy Lieutenant who, for all his own medical training, had still been very naïve about the ways of the universe.

“I know,” the Captain said. “We know little about your culture, but we do know of the oath your…doctors take. That is how we knew Admiral Sullivan could be trusted.”

“Yes, about that…” the Doctor interrupted with a slight frown. “Something’s been puzzling me nearly since this whole business began, or at the least since we used your nanotechnology to remove your pilot from the facility where he was being held. Why didn’t you simply transport him out and go about your business? Why get Admiral Sullivan involved at all?”

“For the sake of the humans,” the hipocra answered as if it were a matter of course. “Because we did not contact your people to let them know we were returning them, they fired upon our ship. We feared that if we were to act once more arbitrarily, the same might happen to any ships bearing the others, even if they were unmanned by our own people. Is the one human, at the least, safely home?”

The five humans, Harry included, exchanged discomfited glances.

“He’s home…” the one called DiNozzo finally answered. “I don’t know about safe.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Flight 19 has been missing for sixty years,” Abby explained. “If you hadn’t taken them…they’d all be in their eighties or nineties by now, if not dead. Humans don’t tend to live all that long. So when some guy who went missing in 1945 reappears in an alien spaceship, not looking a day older…well, even if he did have a family to go home to, he might not get the chance. He’ll probably spend the rest of his life being poked and prodded by the same people who starved your pilot.”

For the first time since he’d met them, the hipocra Captain seemed to grow angry. “Your people would do such things to one of their own?”

“Wait a second,” Martha interrupted. “How is it possible that makes you angrier than what was done to Madison?” When nearly everyone looked puzzled, she clarified: “Your pilot. Why aren’t you up in arms over that as well?”

The Doctor answered for them, his own voice subdued. “The hipocrae have been around the universe long enough to know that most species tend to fear the unknown, the alien.”

“We have grown…resigned to it,” the Captain agreed. “And besides…unless we were to go against our very nature to make war on other races, there is little we could do about it. But this human…”

“How did you get tangled up with ‘this human’ anyway?” This time the question came from Gibbs.

“We had just discovered your world. Our ship was flying over one of your oceans, collecting data, when it encountered Lieutenant Taylor and its people in their smaller ships. We did not mean to, but our technology interfered with their instruments and they became lost…finally running out of fuel and crashing. When we realized what we had done, we retrieved the humans and hurried them to our physicians. But…” Here its face twisted into something that might be the hipocra’ equivalent of a smile. “…like you, Martha, with our physiology, we were unfamiliar with yours. It took us this long to understand and repair the damage. We did not realize time was against us.”

“So what do we do?” Abby asked. “If they can’t go home and they can’t stay here…”

Harry stepped forward, absurdly grateful to finally have something to do. “I suspect UNIT might be able to lend a hand with that. I’m sure a word or two in the right ear might see the gentlemen safely relocated somewhere they can start new lives, without the pall of the past hanging over them.”

“Great,” Agent DiNozzo added in a voice that was not quite enthusiastic. “Somebody wanna tell me how we get in and out with Taylor without Stockton having us arrested the second we walk through the door?”

“Oh, God, I didn’t even think of that,” Martha exclaimed. “You three, you’re likely to lose your jobs over this, aren’t you? Or worse?”

“And we’d do it again in a heartbeat,” Abby declared.

Agent DiNozzo didn’t look so certain of that and Agent Gibbs’ expression was indiscernable.

“Well, we can’t have that,” the Doctor decided. “Hardly seems fair to lose one’s job for doing the right thing, helping out a fellow denizen of the universe. As it happens…I’ve an idea how we might be able to avoid it.” He turned to the captain of the hipocra ship. “Just how selectively can you lot edit human memories?”

“So, what exactly are we doing here with the technology that blew up your mass spectrometer?” Martha asked, watching as Abby carefully spread a bit of the blue gel (nanotechnology, she reminded herself) onto a glass slide. Martha had been drafted as lab assistant pretty much as soon as Abby’d realized the truth about who she and the Doctor were, and she was hoping it was for more than just gossip. Considering the Doctor’d gone pale and muttered something about not coming back to find them laughing at him, she knew she wasn’t the only one.

“We’re testing a theory,” Abby explained, sounding nearly as eager as the Doctor when he got going. “When I first scraped this stuff off the inside of the car, I could swear it responded to my voice. Now, at the time I thought I was imagining things, but you know how it is: once the Doctor gets involved, the spectrum of what’s ‘possible’ gets a whole lot broader.”

Martha grinned back at her. “Right. So what’s the plan?”

“Well, I figure most of the higher-level functions this stuff is designed to handle are either autonomous or probably restricted to certain individuals. Y’know, like with voice recognition software or something.” She set the slide on the microscope and peered through it, even though they knew by now it wasn’t nearly powerful enough to reveal the sub-atomic dimensions of these nanites. “So what I want to find out is: if the stuff can be voice-controlled by just any stranger off the street, how far does that control go? They pretty much put half my lab back together; can they fix other things too, like injuries? If this really is what was used to teleport Admiral Sullivan, how much of it do you need to be capable of teleportation? Stuff like that.”

“So you’re going to have them, what? Heal that cut on your forehead?” Martha asked.

Abby shrugged. “Not sure it’s a good idea to let the nanogoo that close to my brain, so I was thinking something a little more remote.” She held up one blue-gloved hand and a scalpel.

“And if they can’t heal it?” Martha demanded dubiously.

Abby just smirked. “That’s the other reason you’re here. At least…you are ‘almost’ that kind of doctor, right? If not, I guess I can call Ducky too. He can always use more practice on the living.” Her eyes twinkled as she suggested this.

Martha laughed. “Don’t worry, I promise I passed basic first aid. Just be careful; you don’t want to accidentally cut anything off. These nanites might be able to fix that, but I can’t.”

“I’m always careful,” Abby said in a tone of mock injury.

The two women looked at each other with matching smirks of pure mischief. “So. Where do we start?”

+++

Half an hour later, they had ascertained that the nanites could indeed heal minor injuries. They’d even–uninvited–tackled the cut on Abby’s forehead: coming into contact with her skin they just seemed to sense it. They’d also managed to dismantle and re-construct the microscope and the glass slide, and to teleport the glass slide from one side of the room to the other.

“So what’s yours like?” Abby finally asked as they were setting up another test: using a larger sample of the nanites to try to teleport Bert.

“My what?” Martha asked, confused.

“Your Doctor.”

Martha frowned. “I don’t understand–isn’t he your Doctor too?”

“Oh, hell no,” Abby answered cheerfully, spreading the nanites carefully over Bert’s belly. “Mine looked different, dressed different, even acted different.”

“But…how is that possible?”

Abby shrugged, her pigtails bouncing with the movement. “Not a clue. Oh, he’s the same man–at least he seems to be underneath in spite of the surface differences–but it’s like he…I don’t know, got transplanted into a new host. Y’know, like the Trill on Star Trek or the Goa’uld on Stargate.”

Martha had a sudden, unsettling flash of the Doctor as some sort of large parasite, living inside the body of the man she knew as the Doctor. As quickly as she entertained the thought, though, she dismissed it as the memory of administering bi-cardial CPR flooded her mind. “No…no, there’s nothing living inside him. He’s not human, that’s certain, but there’s only one of him.”

“That’s a relief,” Abby teased. “Not sure the universe could handle more than one of him.”

Martha smiled broadly at her. It was nice, having someone to talk about the Doctor with, someone who knew where she was coming from and wouldn’t ask a whole lot of bothersome questions (Tish) or distrust the man just because (Mum). “Honestly? I’m not sure the universe can handle even the one of him. He’s a bit…”

Abby grinned. “Weird?”

Martha’s own grin trebled in size. “Mad.”

Abby laughed, but before she could answer, Martha’s mobile chirped at her. She frowned, digging in her pocket to pull it out. “I’ve got a text. But there’s…there’s no number to ring back.” Pressing the necessary buttons, she held up the phone in front of her and read in a puzzled voice, “‘What is the purpose of these tasks?'”

She glanced up at Abby. Abby shrugged.

Well, it couldn’t hurt. Within seconds Martha had tapped out a simple question of her own: ‘What tasks?’

Almost instantaneously came back the reply: ‘The tasks that you and the other one have been commanding us to perform.’

Martha looked at Abby again, and as one the two girls turned back towards the goo-encrusted Bert.

“You don’t think…them?” Martha started, astonished. “Is that even possible?”

Abby shook her head, but more in wonder than in disagreement. “Word of advice, just in case you haven’t figured it out already: when the Doctor’s involved? Never ask that question.”

+++

Hurrying upstairs to announce their discovery, Abby and Martha collided with the Doctor and Tony, who were on their way to the lab.

“We’ve figured out how to communicate with the nanites!” Abby blurted out as soon as they’d all picked themselves up off the floor, unable to keep the canary-eating grin off her face.

His face lit up like Christmas morning. “Brilliant! I ought to let the two of you work together more often. How’d you manage it?”

Martha held up her cell phone. “They’ve been texting me. Wanted to know why we were putting them through their paces.”

“Brilliant!” the Doctor repeated, grinning from ear to ear. “Just brilliant! And wouldn’t you know, thanks to Lieutenant Sawyer, I’ve got why they decided to hang on to Harry.”

Abby looked curious. “How’d you manage that if she can’t remember?”

“He did this freaky…mind meld thing,” Tony interjected with a shrug. “Which, I don’t know, didn’t look all that impressive if you ask me. But Sawyer seemed to buy it.”

The Doctor shot him a sour look.

Abby, on the other hand, looked intrigued. “I didn’t know you could do that. Why didn’t you ever use it when I was traveling with you?”

The Doctor looked a bit taken aback. “Well, I suppose I never needed to.”

“Um, yeah!” Abby disagreed. “It could’ve come in major handy with that whole thing on Septima VII. A little telepathic interrogation and boom!” She clapped her hands together. “Everybody knows the viscount lied, and we’re off the hook.”

“Pshaw, you didn’t need me poking around in other people’s brains to work that one out!” the Doctor scoffed mildly in return. “Besides which, Septimans have roughly the psi rating of a rock. And not just any rock, but an extraordinarily dense one. Even if I’d been able to get anything from the viscount, which is hardly certain, it’s not likely it would have stood up in a court of law, now, would it?”

Tony frowned, looking from one to the other. “What am I missing here?”

“Quite a number of things, I imagine,” the Doctor retorted. “Starting with the flora and fauna of Perelandra and ending with just about anything past the end of your nose.”

Abby slapped him upside the head.

“Ow!” the Doctor exclaimed more in shock than in pain, pivoting to pin an injured look on his former companion. “What was that for?”

She waved a finger at him. “Be nice!”

Martha laughed. “Now why hadn’t I ever thought of doing that?”

“It’s a long story, which I promise I’ll tell you someday,” Abby told DiNozzo. “For now, let’s just say it involved a murder and a lot of very weird forensic evidence, including a ten-foot chicken.”

“It wasn’t a chicken, it was an–ow!” the Doctor got cut off mid protest by Abby stomping on his foot.

“It won’t help us find Admiral Sullivan, anyway,” she concluded.

“That’s the easy part,” the Doctor boasted, waving Martha’s phone at them. “All we’ve got to do is ask. Now if we can just find out where your lot–” This was directed to Abby and DiNozzo. “–are keeping their guests, then we beam ourselves and our pilot on up, make the exchange and everything will be right as rain.”

“Oh no, not so fast,” Abby held up a staying hand. “If we’re going to go after the Admiral, wouldn’t it be better to take the TARDIS?”

The Doctor shrugged. “I don’t see why. If this is the race I think it is, they’re harmless enough. We ask nicely, they ought to put us right back where they found us.”

Abby shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. It’s just, if I know Gibbs? He’s going to insist on coming along. And if you start negotiating with these guys and he can’t understand a word of what’s being said…”

“Oh!” The Doctor looked suddenly perturbed. “Yes, I suppose that would be rather a problem, wouldn’t it? Just as well: we’ve got a question for Director Shepard and Admiral Stockton anyway, so probably best to trade information. Tally-ho, then!”

Turning around, he sprinted up the stairs.

“Tally-ho?” Abby echoed in disbelief.

Martha rolled her eyes expressively. “Don’t ask.”

DiNozzo just followed them with a pained look on his face.

The worst part of it was the waiting. Stephanie had been released on her own recognizance because, whether NCIS trusted her story or not, they couldn’t disprove it: but that didn’t mean they had to keep her up to date on the progress of the investigation. She had no idea if they were any closer to finding Admiral Sullivan than they had been when Jacobs had first pulled the car up to the gate at Norfolk, but the fact that she’d been summoned back to NCIS headquarters for another round of interviews did not give her a whole lot of hope.

Stephanie fidgeted in her chair in the interrogation room. She didn’t know what she was going to tell them; she hadn’t remembered anything new. When the door opened, she looked up, half expecting to see Agent DiNozzo again.

She didn’t expect a tall, skinny man in a blue suit, plum tie and a long tan coat. The man offered her a toothy but kind smile. “Lieutenant Sawyer?”

Stephanie’s heart plummeted; he pronounced “lieutenant” the same way Admiral Sullivan had. Oh God, they knew. “You’re with UNIT, aren’t you?”

“Well…” the man hedged, throwing a wry glance in the direction of the one-way mirror. “Yes and no. I’m the Doctor and I’m hoping I’ll be able to help you remember what happened.”

He must be some sort of psychiatrist, Stephanie reasoned to herself. “Are you going to hypnotize me?”

“Not…exactly,” the Doctor hedged. “I’d like your permission to find the memory myself. In your mind.” When she stared at him blankly, he added, “Telepathically.”

She felt a disbelieving laugh bubble up to the surface. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Is it any stranger than what you were bringing Harry to see?” he asked shrewdly, sharp eyes boring into her as if they really could read her mind. Stephanie also couldn’t help but notice the use of the Admiral’s first name, as if the two of them were old friends despite a visible age difference of at least thirty years.

Telepathy…it was insane. But he was right: no more so than earth-shattering discovery that had brought Admiral Sullivan across the Atlantic in the first place. Another moment of hesitation, then she asked, “Will you see…everything?”

“No.” It was a promise, she could tell by his voice. “I won’t go anywhere you don’t want me to go. Nothing but the memories of the night Harry disappeared, not unless it’s absolutely necessary and you give me your blessing.”

Stephanie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If it’ll help find him…all right. I don’t know how you know Admiral Sullivan, Doctor…but he was really nice to me. I liked him; I wouldn’t have done anything to hurt him.”

“I believe you wouldn’t.” The Doctor smiled. “Now. Ready?”

She nodded, and he brought both his hands up to lightly touch her right and left temples. It was the strangest sensation she’d ever felt: not the light touch of his long fingers on either side of her face, but the gentle, probing pressure of another mind against hers. Her instinct was to shove it away, but he kept talking quietly, reassuring her and asking her to let him in, and finally, she did.

In a way, it was like taking the Doctor’s hand and walking back in time. As the memories began to scroll past, beginning with their arrival at the airport, she noticed that even though they were her own memories, she was standing outside of them, watching her own life play out like Ebenezer Scrooge with the Ghost of Christmas Past. It was an eerie feeling that guaranteed she’d never read A Christmas Carol quite the same way again.

Stephanie saw the Admiral arrive, and was surprised to feel a sudden jolt of emotion from her viewing partner: first, delight and joy at the sight of an old, dear friend, then a delayed sort of shock and grief at how visibly that friend had aged. She felt for an instant the weight of years–no…centuries?–before the Doctor withdrew into himself again and they were both spectators once more.

She followed herself and the Admiral to the car, and then into the car on the long drive home, the drive which had wound up being even longer than it was supposed to be. The difference was, when they reached the point in the evening where her memory usually stopped…this time the scene kept going…

+++

Thirty-six hours earlier…

The car shuddered violently, coming to a sudden stop and throwing them all against their seatbelts. Stephanie let out a cry of surprise before turning to look at Jacobs beside her in the front seat. “What did we just hit?”

“Nothing, I don’t think,” he argued, reaching for his seatbelt.

Stephanie turned to look in the back. “You all right back there?” she asked.

The admiral looked rattled, but unhurt. “I do believe so, yes. My, that was rather sudden.”

“Something’s wrong,” Jacobs interrupted, sounding worried. “My seatbelt won’t unbuckle.”

Frowning, Stephanie reached down to try to unfasten her own, only to find the button equally as jammed. “Neither will mine. Could it have been the impact?”

“Impact with what?” he reiterated. “I swear, Lieutenant, we didn’t hit anything. Nothing visible, anyway.”

“That does not entirely rule out the invisible,” Admiral Sullivan pointed out.

“But that’s impossible–”

“Any more impossible than what brought us all here?” he asked, and Stephanie was forced to concede the point. What she’d seen…what she’d been taking him to see…it redefined possible in ways she’d never dreamed.

The car vibrated again, more gently this time but in more of an…upward direction? That didn’t make any sense. Unless–

“Ma’am!” the Marine in the back seat with the Admiral exclaimed.

Stephanie felt her entire body go cold. “Yes, Sergeant, I see it too.”

Something crystalline and blue was seeping through the body of the car as easily as if it were made of sponges, not steel and bullet-resistant glass, slowly encasing them in a shell scarily reminiscent of the one they’d found Lieutenant Taylor in.

Jacobs began to hyperventilate. “Oh God, oh God, oh God…”

The Marine pulled out his service revolver and aimed it at the side of the vehicle.

“Steady on!” the Admiral chided briskly, bringing a hand up to knock the weapon down away from them. “I speak from personal experience when I say it’s unwise to fire upon something you don’t know the nature of. For all you know, your bullets might very well ricochet and kill us all.”

“Ma’am?” the Marine asked.

“An admiral gives you an order, Marine, you obey it!” Stephanie snapped, her own heart pounding as if it was about to break out of her rib cage and make a run for it.

The car was almost completely encased now. A heartbeat later, the substance stopped spreading and began to glow instead: a glow that started out muted but grew gradually brighter and brighter, until it flared so bright it was almost white.

When the light faded, all of them–including the three marines who had followed in a separate car–found themselves sitting not in their respective cars, but on the floor of an enormous room made of the same transparent crystalline blue substance. Through the walls, Stephanie could see millions of tiny blue pinpricks of light. Her heart almost stopped when she realized that they were stars.

“I’d advise putting the gun away now, young man,” Admiral Sullivan advised in a low voice.

“Where are we?” the MP demanded.

“I’ve no idea, but it seems far more likely that we’ll survive to find out if we don’t show signs of being hostile.”

“But what if they’re hostile?”

The admiral sighed in a tone of calm resignation. “Then if you’ll forgive me for being blunt, I shouldn’t think our primitive weapons will offer much protection.”

At that moment, a being appeared in front of them as if it had just melted through the wall of the…was it a ship? Stephanie wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure what to make of the being, either. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before, nothing she’d ever imagined. If someone had asked her to describe it, she would have tried…but she would have failed to articulate anything beyond that it radiated a sort of silvery glow and it was beautiful. Strange, yes, but unspeakably beautiful.

When it spoke, the creature’s voice, too, had a resonant quality to it that was almost like some sort of ethereal music. The words were spoken in a language so complex it was impossible not to recognize as language, but incomprehensible to her untrained ear.

To the shock of everyone, though, Admiral Sullivan answered it. “Yes, quite. Dreadfully sorry about that. You say we’ve got your pilot as well?”

“Admiral,” Stephanie whispered urgently. “You…you can understand them?”

“Can’t you?” He asked in surprise. “They appear to speak quite good English.”

“That’s not what I hear,” she insisted.

“Isn’t it?” He sounded surprised. “Though, come to think on it, it does rather make a certain amount of sense that a being from another world would hardly be fluent in an Earth tongue. I just seem to recall they always were when I traveled with…oh. Oh, how very clever. I suppose there must have been some sort of translation mechanism in the TARDIS. One that isn’t limited by distance and time once one has been exposed to it–logical, I suppose, all things considered.”

The Admiral looked at Stephanie. “These are quite serious charges. They allege that in addition to the gentleman in the…shall we say stasis chamber…that you showed me, your government has also apprehended the pilot of the craft that was carrying him and are presently holding said pilot hostage. I’m uncertain of the gender pronoun that should be involved. That doesn’t seem to quite translate.”

Stephanie frowned, poring over everything she’d read, everything she’d been given in preparation for this assignment. “I…I don’t know. I wasn’t told anything about an alien.”

“Which, unfortunately, does not necessarily mean there is not one.” Turning back to the being who had addressed them, Admiral Sullivan’s tone turned very serious. “I think you’d best tell me everything…”

+++

Stephanie came back to herself as the Doctor gently took his hands away. She blinked at him for a moment without really seeing–too caught up in the beauty and terror of the moment that had been taken away from her. She swallowed hard, surprised to find tears pooling behind her eyes.

“Good old Harry,” the Doctor said with just the faintest hint of nostalgia in his voice. “Nice to know he did learn something from me after all.”

“From you?” Stephanie asked, still a bit disoriented.

“Yup,” the Doctor answered cheerfully. “Thank you very much, Lieutenant. You’ve been a great help.”

He stood and was halfway to the door before Stephanie came to herself enough to stop him: “Doctor…”

The Doctor turned back to her, the obvious question in his eyes.

“Why…” She struggled to articulate what she was feeling. “Why did they take that away from me? From us? Why did we have to forget?”

He shrugged. “Once they knew Harry could communicate with them, I imagine they didn’t need you anymore.”

“Yes, but they could have left me the memory at least…couldn’t they?”

A sad smile crossed the Doctor’s face. “Not if they had every reason to fear your world’s reaction. They made you forget because it was the only way they could protect themselves.”