Work Text:
“But - you’re me,” Susan said.
“No, you’re me,” the girl with Susan’s face retorted. “Are you some kind of Dalek clone?”
“No,” Susan said. “I’m not a clone of anything. Are you?”
“Don’t be stupid. I wouldn’t have let a Dalek capture and clone me. That’s something only a human like you would do.”
“But I’m not human,” Susan said, feeling more confused than ever.
“You’re not?” the other girl asked, looking exactly as confused as Susan in exactly the same way.
“No,” Susan said. “I came here with my grandfather and Barbara and Ian in a time machine.” It didn’t occur to Susan that if the other girl was lying about being a Dalek spy then this was a very silly thing to say. On the other hand, it did occur to her to ask, “You aren’t human either, then?”
“I’m a Time Lady,” the other girl said, which was also a very silly thing to say on Dalek-infested Earth, where the lords and ladies of time were not exactly welcome dinner guests.
“So am I!” Susan said, which was also- well, you get the idea.
“Maybe you’re one of the people I was supposed to be keeping an eye on,” the other girl said, frowning. “But I think grandpapa would have mentioned you looking exactly like me.”
“Exactly,” Susan agreed, “except for the hair.” Her own short hair had proved both fashionable (in the 1960s) and practical, but she couldn’t help envying the other girl’s long braid.
The other girl nodded thoughtfully. “You’re not working for the CIA, are you?”
“I don’t think so. We came here by accident. I don’t even know what the CIA are.”
“Neither do I really,” the other girl said, looking mournful. “I know they’re incredibly powerful and they run everything secretly, but nothing useful like what they look like. Grandpapa said I’d know one if I saw one, though.”
“And he sent you here to find them anyway?” Susan asked. “That’s terrible.”
“Oh no,” the other Susan’s eyes were wide with what Susan recognised as a mixture of shock and awe. “Grandpapa would never ask me to do something he didn’t think I could do. Besides, it’s not dangerous. He gave me this force-field generator,” she held out her arm, which was host to a thick black bracelet, “so I don’t get zapped by any Daleks, and a recall device,” she produced a large gold coin from her combat jacket, “so I could get home in three days, or sooner if I get hurt.”
“Oh,” Susan said. “That was thoughtful of him.”
“Didn’t your grandfather give you the same things?”
“No,” Susan said. “He’d think that was cheating. He said he’d come back for me one day, though.”
“But that’s terrible!”
“Oh no,” Susan said, “it’s just his way. And I suppose it is time for me to grow up, I am almost 80.”
“So am I!” the other girl said. “This is so weird…”
She tailed off as the same thought occurred to them both. Unfortunately, it wasn’t anything about how incredibly dangerous it was to be discussing their lineage in the middle of a war-torn plane when only one of them had a force-field generator.
“You don’t think…” Susan began.
“There’s only one way to be sure,” the other girl said decisively.
“Tell each other everything we know, before asking someone who knows more,” said Susan, who had been trained well by her grandfather.
“No, no. That’ll take far too long. We’ll just do a direct mind-to-mind transfer,” the other girl said. She, too, had been trained well, but by a completely different grandparent.
“I don’t know how,” Susan admitted.
“Oh, it’s easy. Grandpapa showed me how before I could walk. You just touch the other person’s forehead like this,” she reached up to Susan’s temples and hesitantly Susan did the same, “and walk through.”
“Walk-?” Susan began, but then she was in the other girl’s mind. A mind full of citadels and orange skies, and classes in the Panoptican, and a tall, stern grandpapa in dark robes who kept a picture of Susan’s grandfather in a locked drawer where he thought nobody would ever see it.
When they emerged from each other’s minds they found they were embracing. This was fortunate because it meant that Susan was safely inside the force-field, and the Dalek energy beams that were now being fired at them bounced harmlessly off her.
“So we’re sisters,” Susan said.
“-separated after their parents deaths-”
“-and sent to live with two different grandparents-”
“-who have a lot of explaining to do,” Susan’s sister finished. “Come on. I’m sure we can find something around here to turn into another teleport. Oh,” she said as they stood, “I’m Sharon, by the way,”
“Susan,” Susan said, and then had to duck with a shriek as a Dalek shot at her.
*
Contrary to the experiences of almost everyone else in the universe, the newly reunited twins had a lot of fun fighting the Daleks. Both of them were very bright, Sharon was better at making up plans than anybody, and Susan had lots of practical experience of Daleks and running away from them.
Daleks who powered down for the night were covered in honey, and found themselves being picked apart by local wildlife when they reactivated. Daleks who were foolhardy enough to follow one of the twins into alleyways found themselves trapped in a maze of steel cabling.
It didn’t take long, in fact, to gather materials for a second teleport. With everything Sharon knew about their race’s technology, and everything Susan knew about making technology work when it really wasn’t likely, they built a copy of Sharon's teleport device, keyed in to the frequently of Susan’s TARDIS key. As they worked, they talked about themselves and their lives, because as useful as a mind-to-mind transfer is for passing information quickly, it is no substitute for a real relationship, and even Susan and Sharon’s grandpapa would have admitted this.
They were such great friends by the end of three days that it was quite upsetting to step apart, each holding a separate teleporting device. Susan had said goodbye to David earlier that day, and that had been painful too, but it was obviously not going to work out between them. She had had nothing really in common with David (who had only ever been a fling) and everything in common with Sharon. That said she was going to meet her grandpapa for the first time in seventy-nine years, and she could see Sharon was just as excited about the opportunity to meet grandfather (even if he was impossible to live with most of the time).
“See you soon,” Sharon called as they began to teleport away.
Susan waved with her free hand. “Good luck to both of us!”
*
Sharon materialised jerkily in her grandfather’s TARDIS console room, just in front of the main doors. A man and a woman she knew must be Ian and Barbara were standing close together by the console, but they jumped apart when she appeared.
“Susan!” Barbara exclaimed. “Where did you come from?”
“We thought you were staying on Earth,” Ian said.
“Though we’re very glad you didn’t,” Barbara said warmly.
“Me too,” Sharon said, “it was horrible there. I’m so glad to be back.” And she reached out and hugged Ian, because it seemed like the right thing to do and he seemed nice, and then Barbara for pretty much the same reasons.
“Doctor, look,” Barbara said over Sharon's head, “Susan’s back.”
Sharon turned to see her grandfather ambling into the room, a distracted expression on his face. “Yes, yes, I can see that,” he said, without paying her much attention, “now could you get out of the way of the controls, I’m in the middle of a very delicate… oh well, it’s gone now.” He turned to Sharon. “So. Susan. Thought better of staying on Earth, did you? Decided it was better with me after all, hmm?”
“But grandfather-” Sharon began, fairly sure this wasn’t how things had gone and intent on defending Susan’s honour.
“Now, now, none of that,” the Doctor said, sternly. “You’re back now, and that’s all that matters.” He smiled and seemed to unbend, “You’re most welcome, child,” and Sharon flung herself into his arms, and breathed in the strong smell of sugar hanging around him. It was, she thought, as if he had a whole sweet shop hidden in his pockets - something Susan would have told her was not too far from the truth. “Yes, most welcome,” he murmured.
“Doctor?” someone still out in the corridor called. “Are you still loosening the couplings?”
“Loosening the couplings,” the Doctor said, as if it was a revelation of his own. “Yes, that was it.” He let go of Sharon, and pulled various levers on the console.
“Who was that?” Sharon demanded. There had definitely been no fifth occupant of TARDIS when Susan was here. Since the Doctor was busy and muttering to himself, she stared at Barbara and Ian, who looked at each other awkwardly.
“That was Vicki,” Barbara explained.
“We rescued her from a crashed spaceship,” Ian put in.
“When?” Sharon said.
“Not long after we left you,” Barbara admitted.
The Doctor seemed not to hear any of this. “You can come back in, Vicki, my dear. I’ve finished.”
“Grandfather-” Sharon began, before she was interrupted by the arrival of the mysterious Vicki from the corridor.
“Phew, I’m glad that’s over!” she declared. “My arms were beginning to ache holding that-” she caught sight of Sharon, who was glaring at her. “Oh, hello. I’m Vicki.”
She was young, friendly and cheerful. Perfectly lovely. Almost certainly the perfect granddaughter. There was no doubt in Sharon’s mind that Susan had been replaced. And she had only been gone a week.
*
Susan, who was using the original teleporter, materialised smoothly in the centre of her grandpapa’s living quarters. They were extremely plush, filled with the best of everything, and standing a smart three feet away from where she had appeared was the man they belonged to. He had a short iron-grey beard and slicked back iron-grey hair, and the same long black robes he had been wearing in Sharon’s mind.
“Welcome home,” he said in a voice that made her feel like she’d never been more welcome anywhere. “Obviously I despise what you’ve done to your hair,” (Sharon had cut her hair off, but there was no way to make Susan’s longer without more advanced time equipment than they had access to) “but I’m sure it was in some way necessary to your mission, and you can go to a salon in the morning to have it re-grown. I’ve missed you terribly.” He kissed her on both cheeks, making a small noise of pleased surprise when Susan hugged him.
“I’ve missed you too, grandpapa.”
“There, there,” the Master told her, stroking the back of her head with a leather gloved hand. “You’re home now. And I suppose the hair isn’t too bad now I see it more closely.”
“It’s very practical,” Susan assured him, wisely leaving out the bit about it also being very fashionable on 1960s Earth. That, she felt, would give the game away too quickly.
“Once again I apologise for sending you out alone into that dreadful place,” the Master said, ushering her over to a pair of large chairs by an even larger fireplace, “but I would almost certainly have been missed had I gone with you.”
“Are you being watched?” Susan asked. Sharon hadn’t said anything about that.
“Tailed by no fewer than three members of the CIA whenever I leave my rooms,” the Master told her in a low voice, “and although they cannot see inside, they would know if I was not in residence. Which is why, Sharon, my dear, your mission was of such vital importance. I’m sure you must want to relax after your ordeal, but I must know: did you see any evidence of Time Lord tampering while you were on Earth?”
Susan thought of her grandfather, who was about the biggest Time Lord tamperer there was, and bit her lip.
“Tell me,” the Master urged. “Were the CIA trying to illegally abort Dalek development?”
“No,” Susan said truthfully. “I didn’t see anything like that.”
The Master’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward in his chair. “But you’re keeping something from me, aren’t you, Sharon?”
“Well,” Susan said, thinking fast, “yes.” The Master raised his eyebrows, and Susan said (quickly because she didn’t exactly know him and had no idea how he would take it), “there was a boy.”
There was a pause, and then the Master laughed. “A boy?”
“His name was David, and for a while I thought I might want to stay with him,” Susan blurted, “but then-”
“But then you came back to me,” the Master finished.
“Of course, grandpapa,” Susan said.
The Master smiled. “Go and change out of those clothes, my dear. Dinner’s in half an hour.”
When Susan returned to the living room, having changed out of Sharon’s fatigues and into a set of Sharon’s purple robes, she found him still sitting in the same chair, staring into the fire. Sharon hadn’t fully realised how much he had been counting on her to bring back good news, but there was no doubt in Susan’s mind: their grandpapa was in serious trouble.
*
“…and she’s just so nice,” Sharon said, disgustedly. It was late at night on both Gallifrey and in the vortex, and the twins were using the TARDIS’s telepathic link to communicate. “You can see they get on really well-”
“Forget about Vicki!” Susan told her. “We’ve got bigger problems. Grandpapa is being investigated by the CIA!”
“What?!”
“Yes! We were supposed to bring him back information he could use to blackmail them into forgetting about him-”
“-and now he’s got nothing! Oh poor grandpapa. How is he?”
“You know grandpapa. He’s carrying on like everything’s fine, but I can see he’s worried. I don’t know why he doesn’t just leave.”
“He can’t. He hasn’t got a TARDIS like grandfather. Where would he go?”
There was a pause. Then Sharon said, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“I think so. But how can we get him to ask grandfather for help?”
“Oh that’s simple,” Sharon said. “We’ll just tell them who we are.”
*
“What?!” the Master thundered.
“We switched places,” Susan said again in a small voice, cowering back from the terrifying man who had until recently been her grandpapa. “Sharon wanted to meet grandfather-”
“This is completely unacceptable.”
“-and I wanted to meet you, grandpapa. Sharon showed me so much about you…”
“Naturally,” the Master said, softening. “And it is wonderful to see you again, Susan. I never imagined the Doctor would let me anywhere near you… But you and Sharon are two completely different people. You can’t just start living her life.”
“I know that, grandpapa,” Susan said. “I don’t know half the things Sharon knows. I made a dreadful mess of political roleplay this morning…”
“Well, I’ve always been of the opinion that that lesson is a waste of time,” the Master said dismissively. “I’ll make sure you’re registered on more appropriate courses under your own name.”
“Under my own- you mean you’re not taking me back to grandfather?”
“Absolutely not,” the Master said. “If the Doctor wants you back he’ll have to come here himself.”
*
“But grandfather,” Sharon said insistently, “I’m not Susan, I’m Sharon.”
“What?” the Doctor said. “What are you talking about, Susan? Think I don’t know the name of my own granddaughter? Ah, Chatterton,” he called, striding over to Ian, who was trying to open the doors of a large temple with an arm-length key, “what are you doing with that? Give it here, please.”
Ian made a face that suggested he was restraining an impatient noise, but all he said was, “Be my guest.”
“Grandfather-”
“If he wants you back, he’ll have to come and get you,” the Doctor muttered as he fiddled with the edge of the key.
“What was that, grandfather?” Sharon asked.
“I was talking to the key, my dear, referring to Chesterston over there.” The side of the key popped open, and the Doctor pressed some of the buttons that had just appeared beneath it. “Ah, that seems to have done it. Come along, Susan… you too, Vicki, Barbara. Oh, and I suppose you might as well come along too, Chesterston. See, it was quite easy…”
*
It’s not working, Sharon thought desperately at Susan, as Ian passed her on the way into the temple.
It’s not working here, either, Susan thought to herself. It was time for some quick thinking. Fortunately she had that in spades from both sides of the family.
“I don’t think that’s likely,” she said.
“You don’t think your grandfather would inconvenience himself to rescue his own grandchild?” the Master asked. He laughed rather bitterly to himself. “I see he hasn’t changed.”
“I’m sure he would usually,” Susan insisted, not entirely truthfully, “but I expect he’s going to be really busy what with the wedding.”
“Wedding?" the Master said. "What wedding?”
“His wedding, grandpapa.”
“…Indeed? And whom, pray, is he marrying?” the Master enquired, trying to look as though he wasn’t interested and not managing this very well.
“This girl Vicki,” Susan said. “Sharon’s told me all about her. She sounds really nice.”
“She sounds nice?” the Master repeated. “My dear Susan, you’ve been away less than a week. How can you possibly not know somebody your grandfather is planning on marrying?”
“He’s impulsive?” Susan said helplessly.
“Thoughtless would be more accurate,” the Master hissed. He paced away, and returned more calmly. “Susan, I want you to go to your Uncle Braxiatel and procure two temporary exit visas and the last known location of your grandfather’s TARDIS.”
“You mean we are going to see grandfather after all?” Susan asked. “But I thought you said-”
“Its unthinkable that Sharon be brought up by a step-grandmother younger than she is,” the Master interrupted smoothly. “We’ll simply drop in, remove her from that damaging situation, and leave the Doctor to his trophy wife.”
“Yes, grandpapa,” Susan said, grinning to herself.
*
The Doctor awoke at a reasonable time, and pottered into the kitchen as he usually did. There he fixed himself some tea, and wondered why Barbara wasn’t sitting at the table like she usually did. Perhaps, he thought, something was wrong. On the other hand, she was probably just resting after a tiring evening of being chased by mummies through an ancient temple. Yes, that was probably it.
He finished his tea, and walked into the console room. Usually he found Ian and Susan there about this time, discussing some form of mindlessly simple chemistry, but today it was empty apart from a bearded man in a suit. Outwardly, the Doctor ignored him, but inwardly he was surprised and rather pleased the other had bothered to turn up. He began to whistle to himself as he asked the TARDIS where his companions were. The answer pinged back almost immediately: Ian, Barbara and Vicki were no longer aboard the TARDIS.
“You,” the Doctor said accusingly, as though spotting the Master at last. “How dare you! What have you done to them, eh? And, while you’re about it, what are you doing here?”
“I’m here because you have my granddaughter,” the Master told him without batting an eyelid.
“I should think I have both of them,” the Doctor retorted. “I assume you’ve brought Susan with you? Yes, here she is on the scanner. Both of them. How thoughtful of you. I was beginning to miss her, you know, even if Sharon is a quite delightful person, but you really shouldn’t have ejected my friends. There’s plenty of room in the TARDIS, you know, for all six of us.”
The Master was a good counter and undoubtedly understood the snub, but he didn’t show it, which was very annoying. “I do apologise,” he said. “I was under the impression I was doing you a favour. Susan informed me that Mr Chesterton and Miss Wright had boarded by accident and were simply waiting until you could correctly pilot the TARDIS back to their home time and place. They seemed, I think the word is, deliriously happy to be put back there and were only sorry not to be able to say goodbye to you.”
The Doctor glared at him, and then reluctantly checked the veracity of the Master’s statements on the TARDIS monitor. “Ah! What’s this?” he demanded. “It says you put Vicki back in Homeric Troy.”
“Oh dear,” the Master said flatly, “was that not her home time?”
“No, it was most certainly not.”
“And there’s a war going on there, too,” the Master reflected, “how unfortunate for her. I feel terrible, of course, but, as they say, you can’t win them all.”
“You feel terrible? Ha,” the Doctor muttered, moving round the console for no other reason that to be away from the Master. “Poor, poor Vicki. I was very fond of her, you know.”
The Master gave him an unfriendly smile. “Assuming you actually know how to steer this ship, you can collect her again once I’ve taken the girls back to Gallifrey.”
“Taken them back to Gallifrey? Don’t be absurd. No, no, Susan and Sharon will stay here with me.”
“Where are they?” the Master demanded, ignoring him.
“How should I know, hmm?” the Doctor asked, circling back around the console to glare up at the Master. “You brought at least one of them here. I should be asking you. What have you done with them?”
“Rather than persisting in this futile conversation, you could simply check the scanner,” the Master said acidly.
“Don’t tell me what to do in my own TARDIS,” the Doctor retorted.
“Where would be more convenient?”
“Oh, you-” the Doctor began hotly, but whatever he was going to say was fortunately lost as the TARDIS gave an enormous lurch.
It is fair to say that the Master probably wouldn’t have fallen if the Doctor hadn’t fallen into him, and that the Doctor would have been able to steady himself if the Master hadn’t grabbed at him instead of the TARDIS console. But, as both things happened, they ended up on the floor, where the Master groaned and the Doctor said, “I think I’ve found the twins. And without using that tiresome scanner of yours.” He knew, of course, that he had consulted the thing twice already in the course of their conversation, but considered this information irrelevant. “They’re in the ship’s secondary console room.”
“Do you know where the secondary console room is?” the Master asked.
“Oh, no idea at all,” the Doctor told him cheerfully. Then he realised he hadn’t got up off the Master and that the Master hadn’t told him to get off, either. He was actually relatively comfortable lying here, because the Master wasn’t as boney as he looked, but if he was the one to get up, rather than the one told to get off, he would seem to be the less interested party and the Master would feel embarrassed, which was no less than he deserved.
Unfortunately, before the Doctor could act on this complicated train of thought, the scanner screen activated itself and two versions of the same voice chorused “Grandfather/grandpapa!”
“Ah, Susan, Sharon,” the Doctor said, getting to his feet as fast as he could these days. “You see what happened was- That is, it was like this-”
“There was some unforeseen turbulence,” the Master explained, “and in the course of events your grandfather fell.”
“I beg your pardon!”
“How gracious of you. Perhaps you have changed after all.”
“How dare you. I was standing here, minding my own business, when I was forcibly pulled to the ground, and by you. Yes! What do you say to that, hm?”
“That you’re clearly suffering from some delusion-”
“We’re going outside,” Susan (or was it Sharon?) said. “You can join us if you like.”
“If you don’t have better things to do,” Sharon (or was it Susan? No, it was almost certainly Sharon. Susan was far more respectful) added. And the screen went black.
“The cheek of it!” the Doctor observed. “And will you kindly stop manhandling my TARDIS,” he added, because the Master had already pulled the door control. “We don’t all want to end up in ancient Troy, do we?”
The Master removed his hand, and the Doctor strode out past him. “Well, come along. Let’s see where we are.” The Master followed him, trying not to be pleased that the Doctor seemed to have no intention of returning for his child bride-to-be.
They had parked in a fair ground, which was lit up splendidly against the night sky. Next to the TARDIS was a Ferris wheel, and in front of it was candyfloss cart, containing a man who seemed not to have noticed their noisy arrival.
The Master stared at the man and the cart in horror, while the Doctor looked around approvingly. “Ah, I do believe we’re back on Earth,” he said. “North of the equator, certainly. Some time in the mid to late 20th century.” He turned to the Master to see if he was impressed.
“It’s 1961,” the Master told him.
“My dear man,” the Doctor said, as impressed as he had hoped the Master would be with him, “how incredibly precise you are today. How on Earth did you know that? Is there a newspaper lying around somewhere?”
“You don’t recognise where we are?”
“No,” the Doctor said, “but then,” he chuckled, “you must remember, that I have travelled a great deal more than you have. What seems to you an exciting anomaly, worthy of remembrance, is merely an average day in the life of a seasoned adventurer such as myself.” When the Master didn’t say anything, he sighed and gestured with one of his hands. “Well? Go on. Where are we?”
“We came here on our first date,” the Master explained, looking every inch the sulky teenager he had been back then.
The Doctor looked back at the Ferris wheel and the man selling candyfloss. “My word, so we did,” he said. “What an extraordinary coincidence.”
“I’m very much afraid that this is no coincidence.”
“Not a coincidence?” the Doctor repeated. “You mean the girls arranged it? But how could they know? I didn’t even remember it myself-”
“-and I would have died before relating it to another person,” the Master continued, “which means that the pertinent details must have been passed to one of the twins by a third party in the last twenty-four hours. Although I have no idea how he came he came by the information, there is, to my mind, only one possible suspect, and I will therefore arrange to have Braxiatel murdered once I return to Gallifrey.”
The Doctor laughed. “That’s right, I remember now. I told him all about it. How funny that he should have remembered about it all this time when I didn’t.”
“Hilarious,” the Master said flatly.
“Now, now, Master,” the Doctor said, taking his arm and leading him deeper into the fair ground, “it wasn’t all that bad, as I now recall with perfect clarity. Except for the drashigs, of course.”
“There were no drashigs,” the Master assured him, but he was feeling a bit confused because the Doctor was holding his arm. Perhaps everything he knew about the universe was wrong.
“Oh, but there were in the version I told to Brax. Four of them. Yes. Four huge drashigs, and they almost killed us both. But, you’ll be pleased to hear, that they didn’t. I was able to stop them all at the last minute.”
“So,” the Master said, beginning to feel like he might not have to kill the Doctor’s brother after all, “in fact, you didn’t mention any event that actually occurred.”
“What?” The Doctor looked outraged. “Tell him about you being sick on my shoes, and me getting lost on the way back from washing them? Don’t be ridiculous. The drashig version was much more exciting. And you were most impressed with my quick thinking, I can tell you.”
“Yes,” the Master said, with a slight smile, “I imagine I was.”
*
Three hours later (coincidentally the same amount of time the young Doctor had spent wandering around the fair with wet shoes all those years ago) they ran into Susan and Sharon outside the Dodgems.
“All right, young ladies. You’ve had your fun,” the Doctor said sternly. “Now back to the ship. It’s late.”
Susan and Sharon began to protest, but the Master cut them off. “You heard your grandfather. I don’t want to tell you again.”
The twins made an elaborate show of sighing and complaining as they walked back to the TARDIS, but they didn’t say anything about how their grandparents were holding hands. Nor did they at any point in the next couple of weeks remark on how the Master seemed to have forgotten to return to Gallifrey. Nor did they snigger behind their hands and nudge each other through their grandparents’ second wedding. Those would all have been very silly things to do under the circumstances, and although they sometimes forgot they were in the middle of a Dalek war zone, Sharon and Susan weren’t silly girls. Which was fortunate, because it had taken two very clever girls to trick their grandparents into doing exactly what they’d wanted to do all along.
The Beginning.