Dear Mr. Doctor: Chapter One

Continuation to the fan-fic series. Subtitled “Well, Hello, Mr. President”.  Crossposted to A Teaspoon And An Open Mind.

The Doctor came into the room sonicking everything he saw. Just to be safe. Engrossed in his work, he didn’t turn around until the President cleared his throat. Seeing him, the Doctor sat down awkwardly, trying to maintain a sense of dignity.

“Well, hello, Mr. President. What can I do for you in particular? Any pigs with feet been running around? Blue men about,” he made a motion, “this high in space suits? Trash bins with plungers and whisks? Giant wasps? Really big bats? Space fish? Giant spiders? Green people underground? Witches?”

The President cleared his throat, clearly convinced he had a bit of a nut job on his hands. He was reading a file.

“All right, sir, that’ll be enough.”

“You have no…no creepy stone angels? No kids with gas masks, moving rubber snakes, one-eyed stony people? None at all?”

The Doctor agreed with the President as far as having a nut job. How was it possible for there to have been no alien invasions?

“We’re talking hypothetically here,” said the President stiffly.

Now the Doctor was really enjoying himself.

“Hypothetically? Yeah, sure, most absolutely certainly…No. What if I told you there’ll be a museum 2 years from now and one of their exhibits will be my greatest enemy?” He nearly spit at the President, then, thinking better of it, wiped his mouth.

“What if you told me?”

“11 years ago. San Fransisco. My other worst enemy almost destroyed the world. Fortunately I was there to stop him,” the Doctor said with an all-too-arrogant smile.

“So that happens often, does it.”

“Yes. I’d say maybe on a bi-daily basis…so you definitely need some protection from alien menaces.”

“And who would you suggest?” said the President with a long-suffering look.

“Me, of course!”

“You.” The President looked at the Doctor wearily. He didn’t have time for this.

“Yes, me! I have plenty of experience…why not get paid for it?”

The Doctor was glowing. It was a brilliant idea. He sonicked the air in celebration. But…

Swallowing, he wondered how well Amy would react. He nervously tossed the sonic screwdriver from hand to hand.

“Still, it won’t be a work-a-day sort of job…I’ve got places to go and people to save and…”

“Planets to destroy?”

The Doctor dropped the sonic screwdriver. Picking it up uncomfortably, he stuttered:

“What? No, no, no no, nonononono….” Regaining his composure, he straightened his bow tie.

“I never do that. What makes you think I do that?”

“Don’t even try. We’ve got files on you.”

“Ooooh, you’ve got files on me!” the Doctor said, childishly. “Scary, creepy, terrifying files!” He failed to convince the President.

“…what do they say, out of…interest?”

“They mention your many trials, accused of murder, guilty of breaking the no-interference policy…”

“FRAMED! Bah, the officials back at home were awful! Corrupt Presidents (no offense to you, sir), judges that would call someone guilty for a few dollars of Universal Currency, power-hungry officials. Look, sir, none of those charges are true.”

“Oh, of course. How was it back on…” the President checked his file, ” “Gallifrey”? You blew it up…why did you do that? The government couldn’t have been that bad…”

“It was a bad day, a very bad day, and there was a war on.” This was the Doctor’s usual response and, in his opinion, the best one.

“Mmm-hmm,” mumbled the President doubtfully.

“And you’re sure there aren’t any more…reliable alien experts?

“Oh, of course, but I don’t want to blow their cover to someone as thick as you.” He laughed a tiny, sinister laugh.
“Besides, these ‘criminal offenses’, if you can call them that, don’t have anything to do with my work.”

The President went back to his file.

“Genocide? Again. Oh, and again. Perhaps you’d like to explain?”

“Hoping you wouldn’t mention that…does that file say anything positive about me?”

“Hmm…here’s T for theft, ‘of apparel’, ‘of currency’… Nope,” said the President, popping the ‘p’ in a way that was far too friendly to be anything less than creepy.

“And where did you get this information? Tall, naked man in a bucket? Never trust him.”

“No. Stylish woman, curly platinum hair, odd bracelet, rather foxy?”

“Oh.” Dread ran through the Doctor. His hearts beat faster. He was prepared to defeat every alien force, but not River. “Oh dear. What did she say?”

“She said something about how you masquerade as a benevolent being while blowing up planets and killing millions of…organisms.”

The Doctor didn’t feel prepared at all, and he didn’t like that feeling. He put his face in his hands and sighed.

“Oh, that is quite not good at all. How can I assure you that I am, in fact, quite benevolent?”

“You can’t.”

The Doctor heard a click and felt cold metal on his wrists. River was too clever for her own good.


About queenofokay

I'm Isabelle. I'm in 9th grade and go to school at Oak Hill School in Oregon. I love books and food. (And Doctor Who!) I fan-fic as Space Gandalf on Teaspoon ( I also love branding website Brand New, and magazine Mental_Floss. Music - The Talking Heads, Phoenix, Bombay Bicycle Club, .

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