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Part Two: Fashion Faux-Pas and Flattery by V Jewitt In which Eight has to fix the trouble he's inadvertently started... *** “I’m not sure,” mused Charley, “that I really like the colour scheme.” The Master eyed the wallpaper of his new fashion house. “What’s wrong with black? It’s slimming and everything looks good with it.” Charley thought about how to put this. “It makes it so dark. Don’t you want people to be able to see your designs?” “True,” he reflected, removing his sunglasses. “You may have a point.” She sighed. There were two reasons that she was here, helping an insane incarnation of the Master to set up a fashion business and they were: the Doctor and the Doctor. Firstly, he blamed himself for the trouble the Master had been giving the Eliott sisters after their inadvertent introduction to the Round – and Charley liked the sisters themselves, especially Evie – and, since, if one was truthful, it was even more her fault than his, she felt she ought to do something about it. The other was his quite unreasonable and insensitive attitude to the new, tasteful dress sense invading the Round. It wasn’t right to insist that the Sixth Doctor always remain visible at a distance of five miles or more, or that so many previous female companions wore skimpy outfits and high heels and then got laughed at for spraining their ankles and being unadventurous. Charley thought that if forced to dress like Leela, Tegan or Peri, she would personally refuse to leave the TARDIS without a very large coat, let alone be prepared to face hordes of alien monsters. Her one brush with that sort of thing had been more than enough. All the same, it was hard to spend so much time with the Master – or Monsieur Bruce as he suddenly wanted to be called – in the burgeoning establishment of M. Bruce’s Villains’ Haut Couture. Charley sighed and thought wistfully perhaps the Doctor would manage to sort it out before she did. * It wasn’t as if, thought the Eighth Doctor, that he was being unreasonable or insensitive in taking a stand against this new craze sweeping the Round. He had every sympathy with his former selves wanting to become inconspicuous every now and then and it didn’t trouble him what his companions wore, provided they wore *something*. “Evening, Doctor,” said the suit of armour from behind the bar as he approached. The Doctor stared at it. “Adric?” The knight clanked heavily in what must have been a nod. “Interesting choice,” he commented mildly. Adric sighed from somewhere within the metal suit. “Just survival. Have you seen Nyssa’s new outfit?” “No,” said the Doctor. “Something tells me I don’t want to.” * The door opened and the Fifth Doctor wondered in, looking self- conscious in a light grey woolly jumper and dark grey trousers. “So what’s this about Nyssa’s new outfit?” asked his future self, declining to comment on the Fifth’s own change of clothing. He stopped and looked weary. “I’ve tried to talk to her. I told her, but she’s been hanging about with the part time staff around here again -.” “I don’t want to talk about it,” put in Adric, a tinny echo to his voice. “She won’t listen,” he said gloomily. “Do you know, this doesn’t have anywhere for the celery?” The Doctor said, “So how come you’re the only one of us with an allergy to – what was it again?” “Certain gases in the Praxis system,” said the Fifth. He cheered up slightly. “I don’t know, but I blame Tegan. It’s worth claiming that she had an adverse effect on my regeneration simply by being there just to see her face.” The Eighth Doctor laughed politely, but, considering his companion’s new outfits and his own, his Fifth self was probably not going to listen to his fears about the Round. He headed off to try and find someone who would. * “What do you mean I’m wearing a suit?” snapped Four. “Of course I’m wearing a suit!” “Yes, dear me, so you are,” muttered Eight. “Sorry to have troubled you. Scarf in the wash, is it?” Four grinned widely. “No, I’ve leant it to that skinny fellow who claims he’s me. I’ve got myself a suit a bit like his. I rather like it. No more tripping over my own scarf, which has to be a benefit, wouldn’t you say?” “True,” he agreed. “I always wondered how I managed.” Four looked across at him. “Of course, I will be getting it back.” Behind them a hat, coat and scarf walked across the room to the bar, followed closely by Martha and Rose who were assuming that Ten was underneath the outfit somewhere. Eight slumped down into the nearest chair and stared around at the Round’s clientele, missing the distinctive costumes that enabled one to tell madman from friend so easily. “This,” said One, sitting beside him unexpectedly and waving his cane about vaguely, “is no good at all, no. It will lead to trouble.” The Eighth Doctor lifted his head hopefully. “You think so, too?” “I know it will,” he insisted. “It’s not the fault of those two charming young ladies, but it will.” He looked at him. “That’s exactly what I said. I just can’t pin down exactly what the trouble is, though.” One chuckled to himself. “You can’t? Dear me, I would have thought it was obvious!” * Charley was sitting on the sales desk, swinging her feet, when the Master swept in and held up his latest monstrosity in black and red. “Do you like it?” he asked. She humoured him. “It’s lovely.” “Good,” he purred. “It means so much to me that you approve.” “Well, thanks,” said Charley worriedly. “No, *don’t* do that!” He drew back his hand from her face. “Touchy, aren’t we?” “Yes, ‘we’ are. What is it anyway?” “Didn’t I say? It’s our new staff uniform.” Charley nearly fell off the desk. “Oh! I see. Um, well – what do you mean, staff? There’s only me and you’re the artistic designer, so you’re not going to be seen dead in a uniform – pardon the expression -.” He waved a hand to indicate Sil being wheeled in by his lackeys. “My marketing manager.” “Well, he’s not going to fit into it!” The Master smiled at her slowly. “No, well, as you say, it is just you. If you wouldn’t mind, Charlotte…” “I am not wearing that!” He folded his arms. “And why not?” “It’s not my colour,” improvised Charley hastily. “Red and black? It’s not me at all. I’d rather have it in blue – and preferably something that covers a bit more of me. Really! What is it with Time Lords wanting humans to wear flimsy clothing?” * The Second Doctor joined One and Eight, looking glum. “Polly’s arranging a fashion show for all the 60s girls, so I thought I’d better get out of the way. She’s already started thinking about including Ben and Jamie.” “I was just saying to this young fellow here that someone needs to put a stop to all this.” Two glared at Eight. “Yes, you should! This is all your fault, you know! Everyone was perfectly happy to have the worst taste in the cosmos when it came to clothing, but, oh, no, you have to bring in fashion designers and start smartening everyone up!” Eight stared into the distance. “It’s the Master. He’s up to something; I can sense it. I know he has this interest in fashion, but it’s more than that. He wants to cause trouble and he’s even dragged Charley into helping him.” “And you’re just going to sit there, are you?” demanded One. “Very intelligent, I must say!” Two nodded. “Get out and stop him. And all this.” “I don’t know how,” he confessed. Then he glanced at Two. “Actually – if I manage to do this, you couldn’t have a word with Polly about Jack Maddox, could you?” The Second Doctor nodded. “Who knows where this sort of thing will lead? I don’t like it!” “I know precisely where it will lead and that is why we have to stop it,” proclaimed the First Doctor. After the pause that followed this, he glanced at his two later selves. “Dear me, has nobody else worked it out yet?” * “Charley,” said the Master, moving in closer. “Much as it pains me to say it, somehow I don’t think your heart is in this.” She shrank back, but had nowhere to go without an undignified back flip over the counter and the Master was already gripping her by the arms. “I said, get your hands off me!” “Of course, of course,” he laughed, holding his hands up. Sil, behind him, was watching in amusement. “Why heurrr do you not kill?” “You’re so crude,” said the Master. “And yet – a tempting suggestion. You see, Charlotte, I fear that you are here not to help me but to sabotage my work -.” She swallowed back fear. “All right, all right – I’ll wear your stupid uniform!” “This isn’t about the uniform,” he said. “I’m hurt – cut to the core by your betrayal – and I shall have to think up a suitable punishment for you.” “Oh, dear,” said Charley weakly. * “It’s no good saying it’s obvious and then laughing at me,” complained Eight. “It would be a lot more helpful if you explained!” One tutted to himself. “If I know, you should know!” “Oh, I see!” Two clapped his hands together in glee. “Of course!” Then he sobered. “But that’s terrible – it could even affect the stability of the entire universe – all of them!” “The Round isn’t what you’d call stable,” objected Eight. “And if you could both stop being smug and just tell me, I’d be grateful.” * “Monsieur Bruce!” Beatrice Eliott marched into his boutique for the criminally insane without losing her composure – mostly because she was not looking closely at the unique designs displayed around her. “Is this how you treat your staff?” He released Charley and turned with an insincere smile. “Of course not. It’s a … little game we play -.” Charley hastily slipped off the desk. “That’s it – I resign!” “I should come back another time,” decided Bea. “You obviously have a crisis on your hands. Miss Pollard, if you are leaving, perhaps you could direct me back to the Round? I keep finding myself either in the library or the creche.” Charley gulped. “Of course! I wouldn’t want you ending up in the creche.” “The library seemed to have an orang-utan and Dracula serving at the desk,” she commented. “I don’t know if I shall ever get used to this.” Charley took her arm and led her out hastily. “I’m sure you will!” * Sarah pulled a chair up beside Eight. “I want a word with you.” “My dear young lady, we were discussing a matter of the gravest importance,” snapped One. She faced Eight. “So is this.” “I do like your dress,” put in Two. She took a deep breath. “It’s this fashion thing. I thought trying to be a little more tasteful wouldn’t do any harm, but that last story – Harry got killed.” “Fans will do these things,” commented One with superiority. “Unfortunate for the poor young man, but there you go.” Sarah took a deep breath. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. Firstly, we never got arrested as we should have been because nobody noticed the ‘outlandish clothes’ we weren’t wearing and then it turned out that the Doctor’s scarf was vital in saving Harry’s life. But he was wearing a suit and -.” She put her hands to her face. “It could spread if we don’t do something about it. My Doctor’s decided it was the author’s fault, relying on gimmicky items like a scarf and won’t change back until he feels like it. And it’s your fault,” she added to Eight. He glanced from One to Two and then back at Sarah. Then he leapt out of his seat. “Of course. I knew something was wrong. That’s it!” Sarah looked up at him. “Harry’s dead and who knows what will happen next – and you sound pleased!” “No!” he assured her. “But how do we stop it?” * “Thank you, Miss Pollard,” said Beatrice Eliott, on being safely returned to the Round. “Do you mind coming with me? No one seems to have found a way to stop that *horrendous* man and someone should.” Charley smiled. “I couldn’t agree more! And it’s Charley.” They passed Captain Jack kissing Evie. She pushed him away in hasty outrage, slapping him. “And you can stop that!” Beatrice glared at him fiercely. “Captain Harkness, leave my sister alone!” “I love it when you’re angry,” he told her admiringly. Evie swallowed back visible alarm and dragged her elder sister towards the bar before either could say anything more. Jack leant over to Charley, nursing a smarting cheek, but grinning nonetheless. “That wasn’t what she said a moment ago…” * “I’ve found you!” Eight grabbed hold of Beatrice as she entered the Round. “I need your help to save the universe – oh, hello, Charley.” She folded her arms. “Hello, Doctor,” she said stiffly. “We’ve got to stop all this terrible tastefulness from spreading,” he explained breathlessly. Sarah appeared behind him. “Yes, or we’re all going to be in danger.” “Normally, I’m all for a bit of messing up Continuity,” added Two cheerfully, “but somehow I think this is going a bit far.” Charley frowned. “People wearing sensible clothes is going destroy the universe and ruin Continuity? How, exactly?” Everyone explained. * “But I don’t see what we can do,” protested Bea, putting a hand to her forehead, as she worried over it. “We didn’t even say anything very much to begin with.” Charley was not entirely convinced yet. “I can see that maybe the Doctor needs his usual outfits, because he’s got all those thingummyjigs in his pockets and that could affect stories, but I don’t see why we need to tell Tegan to stop wearing jeans and go back to short skirts and high heels.” “It would hardly be fair otherwise,” said the First Doctor sternly. She looked at her Doctor. “But the scarf comes into stories, so do people’s ‘unusual’ clothes and Barbara’s cardigans, but really -.” “That isn’t the point,” said the Doctor. “Are you saying that clothes aren’t important?” Charley wrinkled up her nose because she was sure that several days ago they’d started this argument from the opposite point of view. “No. But I think that if one is going to go adventuring about with a Time Lord, one should have the option of doing it in sensible clothes.” “Clothes make a statement about who you are,” put in Evie, unable to help herself, on hearing the ‘clothes are unimportant’ line. “It’s a vital form of self-expression and the design of the clothes is art, no matter what people may think.” Charley wondered to herself if she would still think that if she had had to spend too much time looking at the Master’s latest designs. Eight nodded. “We should be unashamed of making that statement.” “But none of us can ever change?” Charley countered, upset at the idea. Sarah grinned to herself. “Sounds like a very smelly proposition.” “Will people please take this seriously?” said One. “Young Sullivan is the first victim of this foolishness. Let us take action before someone else is taken.” Captain Jack looked round at them all. “That’s the point, isn’t it? What action do we take to restore the status quo?” “I’m sure Jack would have some useful ideas,” sighed Bea. She glanced at the Captain with severe disapproval. “Not you, obviously, Captain Harkness. My Jack.” Two said with sympathy, “I think Polly was upset about liberties that some people have been taking lately. I’m sure she didn’t mean to be unkind.” “Some people?” echoed One. “I think you mean you!” * “What’s happened to that coat of yours?” asked Evie of Six, wide-eyed and all in earnest. She shook her head. “This boring blue is hardly very expressive. I really admired you, making such a bold statement like that. There’s not many people who could get away with it.” Six looked back at her for a long moment, torn between vanity and logic. Eventually he sighed and said, “What exactly did you want, young lady?” “I meant it,” said Evangeline, leaning forward as if to share a secret. “Don’t let people talk you out of what you believe in.” There was humour lurking in his face. “Hmm,” he said, but he did always like to be noticed. * Captain Jack took a seat next to Four. “Hi.” “What do you want?” the Doctor demanded. He shrugged. “Nothing. Although, I don’t know if you know what that other you was up to with your scarf. Wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself…” * Charley pulled at the long scarf that Ten was wearing. “I said, hello! Is anyone in there?” He turned and she stifled a giggle, since he was still barely visible, swamped under his earlier self’s outfit. “Is that Charley?” “Yes,” she said smiling. “Isn’t that get-up a bit impractical, Doctor? I thought you liked running -.” He removed the hat. “I know. But I bet I won’t want it back. Who would?” “You could try,” she suggested. “I thought you looked *much* better in that suit of yours.” He coloured slightly. “Oh, did you? Blue or brown?” “Oh, I liked both,” she said. “I really couldn’t decide.” “Yeah, I’m in two minds myself,” he agreed. “Mind you, that happens more than I’d like round here.” * “But what if you have a sudden emergency?” said Two, following the grey-clad Five around in what his future self felt was an extremely irritating manner. “That allergy to whatever it was and no celery handy. Think how stupid you’d feel. And when the universe is demanding a game of cricket and you’re not dressed for it, what will you do? Just think -.” Tegan had been watched with her arms folded. Really, she thought, the Doctor ought to know by now that the last thing he ever did was listen to himself. She could see what Two was after, however, and took a hand. “I always kind of liked your usual outfit,” she confessed. He paused at that. “You didn’t think I looked … stupid?” “Doctor,” Tegan said frankly, “I was wearing a purple stewardess’s outfit and Adric was running round in yellow pyjamas while Turlough never got out of his school uniform. And if you’re going to stop with the beige, is grey the best you can do?” He said thoughtfully, “I do like cricket. If I’m not dressed for it, there are fewer opportunities for a game. I suppose that much is true.” * “I don’t know what that was about,” said Tegan to Two afterwards, “but you owe me.” He looked surprised. “I was only asking a question or two.” “And,” she added, “I’m not getting back into that purple uniform, before you try. It’s jeans for me from now on. Other companions got to wear sensible clothes once or twice. Why not me?” * The First Doctor glared at Adric across the bar. He was not getting anywhere in trying to persuade the boy out of the suit of armour he’d got himself into. He thought about this and then went for the blunt approach. He held up his cane and rapped him across the top of the helmet several times. “You get out of that ridiculous costume right now, young man!” Adric pulled off the helmet and emerged, frowning and holding his hands over his now-ringing ears. “What did you do that for?” “You can’t serve in here wearing something like that,” he snapped. “You didn’t even hear what I ordered, did you, hmm?” He said, “Yes, but she -.” “There’s a rule against it!” The Doctor pointed with his cane. Francois had helpfully nailed up a notice against the wall that said: STAF MUST WARE UNIFORM AT AL THYMES. Adric said, “Oh. What uniform?” * “Shouldn’t we do something about that awful man?” asked Beatrice anxiously as the rest worked their way around the Round with flattery and anything else that they could come up with. Eight shrugged. “I don’t think it’s worth it. To be honest, twisted though his mind is, his outfits are only what our villains usually tend to wear.” “He would have killed Charley,” she said in outrage. “We should tell the police and have him arrested! I saw it with my own eyes. Oh. Do you have police here?” He said thoughtfully, “He tried to kill Charley, did he? I see what you mean. Come with me!” * “Polly,” said Two. “I know I didn’t do the best job of taking care of your list for you the other evening, but will you do something for me?” She looked at him and then gave an impish smile. “Oh, all right, Doctor. What is it?” “Well, mention in a story usually gives characters access to the Round. Couldn’t you let this Jack Maddox chap in? I hear he’s a splendid sort of fellow.” Polly sighed. “Oh, very well. After all, it isn’t Miss Eliott’s fault that you and Jamie were so bad at looking after things. I should have known better.” * “Excuse me,” said Beatrice nervously. She coughed. “M. Bruce, or whatever your name is.” He turned and smiled. “Miss Eliott. It’s a pleasure. What do you want?” “I needed to tell you something,” she said worriedly. “It probably isn’t any of my business, but even though I do not like you, you ought to know that the Doctor said something about blowing up your shop.” He froze momentarily. “He said what?” Then he shrugged. “I might have known – he’s always been jealous of me!” Beatrice watched him run back down the street as fast as his ornate robes would allow and then followed out of curiosity. * Tegan returned to Five, who had reappeared in his usual beige outfit with surprising speed. She blinked. “Of course,” he said, putting an arm around her and guiding her to a table, “it’s none of my business, but I heard what you said earlier and … well… I rather liked the purple.” Tegan opened her mouth to argue and then sighed instead. “Rabbits,” she muttered under her breath. * The Movie Master raced for his shop in such haste that for once he didn’t notice the tell-tale signs of a PLOT hole – the slight distortion around the door for one thing – and only stopped in shock to find himself somewhere that was far from being a villain’s haut- couture store. “Doctor,” he growled and looked about him at the suspiciously colourful landscape. Were some of the houses here made from building blocks? Where was he? * “Well done!” Eight caught hold of Beatrice and swung her round. “He fell for it! Did you see?” She nodded, smiling back at him. “But where did he go, Doctor?” “Well, that’s not easy to explain to someone from the Twenties,” he said, “but let’s just say that I noticed an interesting PLOT hole open up recently. Someone seems to have been talking about Noddy somewhere.” “Noddy?” she echoed. “I’m afraid you’re right, Doctor. That means nothing to me.” He hugged her enthusiastically. “That’s as well. The Master will soon wish he’d never heard of it as well. I would have thought he will spend rather a lot of time in Toy Town Prison, if there is such a thing.” A worried expression flitted over his face. “I only hope he doesn’t start lording it over the goblins and causing more trouble.” “I’m glad he’s gone,” said Beatrice. “I think Evie and I might start to like it here, after all.” He smiled at her. “And I hear that my other self has gone to make sure Polly lets your Jack in.” “Thank you,” she said and kissed him chastely on the cheek. He smiled back at her. “It was a pleasure.” It was only then that they realised that they were being watched. Beatrice only turned in time to see the familiar figure marching back the way he had come. * “Jack!” she called, hurrying after him belatedly, her vulnerability showing for the first time. “Oh, dear.” * Back in the Round, Jack Maddox ordered a pint in a dejected attitude. “Evie,” he said, moving through the pub as he spotted her with a stranger. “What is this place? I was in the middle of a photo shoot and suddenly I’m here and Bea’s all over some strange long-haired bloke.” Evie widened her eyes. “Jack, I’m sure that’s not true.” “Who’s this?” asked an American at her side, eying the newcomer up in way that made Jack Maddox give him a glare. Evie glanced at the ground, having to hide a laugh that threatened to disturb her demure expression. “Jack, meet Jack.” “What is this series you come from?” asked Captain Jack. “If everyone there looks as good as you three, it’s about time I paid the place a visit.” Evie choked on her drink, her sapphire-blue eyes even wider than usual. “Is he bothering you?” asked Jack Maddox warily. She coloured. “No. Not really.” “Evie,” he said with a rueful smile and took the stool beside her. “I think you need to tell me about all this.” “Do I?” she responded in a small voice. He grinned at her. “Well, I won’t go away until you do and you know what a pain I can be.” * “I’m sorry,” said Eight, having to move quickly to keep up with Beatrice. She said tightly, “Oh, it’s nothing unusual, Doctor. I thought, without the writers interfering we could have a quiet drink here without an argument, but apparently not.” “I’m sure when we explain that we were only putting things to rights and teaching a megalomaniac Time Lord with a fashion obsession a sorely needed lesson, he’ll calm down.” Beatrice had an enigmatic smile on her face. “Well,” she said, “he usually does.” * Sarah had been left to tackle Nyssa, who had also chosen armour. Of a sort. She had decided that there was only one approach. “Isn’t this a bit obvious for you?” she asked carefully. “I thought the whole idea was that you looked perfectly –.” Sarah searched for the right word. If she found the wrong one, she would be very dead very swiftly. “Innocent and then -. Isn’t it more fun that way?” She stared into the distance. “Everyone knows. And this is practical for weapons.” “There are a lot of newcomers around here,” Sarah observed. “And you don’t always need weapons.” Nyssa considered. “That is true,” she agreed. “Thank you, Sarah. I will think about it.” Sarah nodded and made her escape as quickly as she could. In the circumstances, she thought she’d done as well as could be expected. * “So, who’s your friend?” queried Jack Maddox with an edge of bitterness to his voice when Beatrice and the Doctor finally caught up with him. Beatrice said breathlessly, “Jack, I can explain everything -.” “Oh?” She said, “Well, it was -.” “Don’t tell me,” he said wearily. “The House of Eliott again?” Beatrice nodded, a humorous gleam in her eyes. “Something like that.” “Sorry,” said Jack to the Doctor, “I should have known. She barely has room for one man in her life, let alone two. I spend all my time playing second fiddle to a business.” She put her arm through his. “That’s not true.” “Isn’t it?” Beatrice set about doing her best to persuade him. After all, they were outside continuity now, she pointed out, and there were no fashion collections to worry about, dodgy financial advisers, or abrupt arguments for the sake of a moment of drama and they could enjoy themselves for once. She had no office, no phone, no Joseph and he had no abrupt desire to be a politician -. Jack was completely won over and lost no time in demonstrating the fact. Eight left them to it and went in search of Charley. “Of course,” added Beatrice, who had an unfortunate tendency to be honest, “there are aliens, Time Lords and all sorts of even stranger things, not to mention a complete lack of tasteful clothes.” Jack grinned at her. “Oh, I think I’ll cope with that.” “We’ll see,” she returned. “I’m not so sure. We may both need to run for our lives if it gets any worse.” He hugged her. “You never stop worrying, do you?” “I seem to be written that way,” she admitted with a sigh, but there was mischief lurking under her lashes when she looked back up at him. He laughed. * “Are we friends again?” Eight asked Charley hopefully. She nodded. “I still think I’m right, but we seem to be stuck with what we’ve got.” “It’s not so bad, is it?” he said. Charley hugged him. “No, I suppose not.” “And, by the way, the Master is paying a little visit to Toy Town and won’t be bothering anyone for a while. Well, you have to feel sorry for Big Ears, Noddy and the rest, but -.” She shook her head and laughed at him. “You know, Doctor, you really do talk the most complete nonsense!” “He’s fallen through a PLOT hole,” he said, seeing that she needed the short version. Charley reflected on that with satisfaction. “Good riddance.” * This Time Round was created by Tyler Dion Doctor Who is copyright of BBC and Big Finish. The House of Eliott is copyright of the BBC. * And in the continuity that we don't have in the Round, this is definitely set a good while previous to most of the latest stories. (Before the Doubles double-drabble, obviously...) Part One
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