2:41 AM
February 15th, 2008
Los Angeles, California
The TARDIS materialized, slowly. Far more slowly than was usual. The time rotor sounded like an automatic transmission in dire need of a junkyard.
Finally, the rotor stopped. The Doctor checked the monitor. “February 15th, 2008,” he proclaimed. “About five minutes after we left.”
He shook his head. “But something has to be wrong with time. The TARDIS shouldn’t be behaving this way.”
Stepping gingerly to the door, a hand on his back, the Doctor slowly opened the door a crack. Looking outside, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, and swung the door open the rest of the way.
“It’s Los Angeles!” he announced.
Sarah stepped outside. It was indeed Los Angeles. She was at the corner of Laurel Canyon and Mulholland – right where she had encountered the Doctor.
But something… something was off. She wasn’t quite sure what it was.
She looked back toward the TARDIS – and a street sign caught her eye.
The street sign that should’ve said “Woodrow Wilson Dr.” instead read “Emperor Marcus Way”.
Her eyes wide, Sarah’s head whipped back toward the stoplight. THAT was the problem, the subtlety her brain hadn’t processed before. Instead of being white print on a blue background, the street signs were now blue print on a white background.
“Doctor!” she said, urgently. His head snapped toward her, the tone of fear in her voice catching his attention more surely than a strobe light.
“What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“That time paradox…” Sarah began.
The Doctor’s eyes grew wide, his gaze hooded. “What about it?”
“I think it’s taken hold,” she replied. “The street signs are reversed from what they were when we left, and this street is named for somebody who doesn’t exist.”
“Back in the TARDIS, right now,” the Doctor ordered. “We’ve got to figure out a way to fix this.”
Sarah didn’t argue, just went immediately back inside. The Doctor yanked down a lever to engage the time rotor – and it weakly pumped once, and then stopped. The rotor’s glow went dim.
“No, no, no!” the Doctor shouted. “Don’t you do this to me now!”
Pumping what looked like a priming handle, he pulled down on the lever again. With a wheeze, the time rotor moved maybe a few feet, before coming to a halt again.
The Doctor hung his head in defeat. “She’s not operating properly… we’re out of her time,” he whispered.
“What do we do?” Sarah asked, incredulous that this Timelord, who had just a little while before seemed all-powerful, now seemed utterly defeated.
“We improvise,” the Doctor replied. “We figure out what’s causing the paradox, and then we figure out how to break it.”
Sarah cocked her head. “But we now what caused the paradox,” she said. “It happened when Madame de Pompadour touched you.”
“Yes, but we need to figure out the continuing cause of it,” the Doctor clarified. “That occurrence had to have set off a chain of events that have left us where we are.”
He pulled out his glasses, perched them on his nose, and pulled a legal pad and a pen from one of his pockets. Ignoring Sarah’s incredulous stare, he jotted notes and diagrams.
“We need to find a library,” he muttered, “and a car. We need transportation.”
“My car’s parked back toward Cahuenga about a mile, at a scenic overlook,” Sarah said, before realizing.
“Probably not,” the Doctor replied, shaking his head. “Remember, history has changed.”
“It couldn’t hurt to look, though, right?” Sarah insisted.
The Doctor couldn’t disagree with that. “Alright then, let’s go.”
It took them about fifteen minutes to walk the mile down Mulholland Drive. As they came around a bend, the scenic overlook came into view –
And Sarah breathed a sigh of relief as she saw the jet black car parked in the overlook. She pulled her keys from her purse and pressed the unlock button on her remote. The hazard lights on the car flashed twice –
Immediately, Sarah knew something was wrong. The lights weren’t positioned correctly. She started jogging toward the car, the Doctor painfully struggling to keep up.
As she reached the car, it was immediately apparent to her that it was not her Porsche Boxster – it was a Honda Civic. “Crap,” she muttered, opening the driver’s side door.
She slid behind the wheel, reaching for the gun she had mounted under the driver’s seat. Gone. She looked at the rear view mirror – and there, dangling from the mirror, was an employee nametag for one Sarah Walker, Wienerlicious employee.
“You have GOT to be kidding me,” she whispered. She activated the switches for the wiper spray and the cruise control at the same time. Nothing. A heads-up display should’ve risen from the dashboard.
She leaned her head against the steering wheel in defeat. The crunch of feet on gravel interrupted her self-pity session, though, as the Doctor finally reached the car. “You have something in there in terms of painkillers?” he asked, his voice strained.
Of course she did. Sarah always had something in the glovebox. Reaching over, she popped it open – and the car’s registration, a city map, a bottle of Advil, and a bag of marijuana fell out.
“Oh, come ON!” she snapped, grabbing the Advil and the pot. She handed the Advil to the Doctor, and was about to heave the marijuana off the edge of the overlook, when the Doctor spoke.
“This has ibuprofen in it,” he said. “My system can’t handle that.”
Sarah sighed and rolled her eyes – and then looked at the bag in her right hand.
Turning back toward the Doctor, she said, “I can’t believe I’m about to suggest this… but can your system handle THC?”
Fifteen minutes later, Sarah was navigating the unfamiliar Civic through the deserted streets of Hollywood, headed toward downtown and the main library. The Doctor’s face was now free of pain – even a little smile on it – as the stub of a joint dangled from his fingers, hanging out the window.
“I can’t believe I didn’t discover this years ago,” he said happily. “It’s completely taken care of my back pain… although I’m a little hungry…”
“You’re high, Doctor,” Sarah replied. “And you have the munch-“
She cut herself off as she noticed the flash of rotating red and blue lights in the rear view mirror. “Oh, hell.”
Sarah pulled the Civic to the side of Western Avenue, reaching for the glovebox as she did so. Then she stopped.
“My license… it won’t be valid here, will it?” she asked in alarm.
The Doctor smiled lazily. “Don’t worry,” he said, reaching into his jacket. His hand came out holding what looked like a black ID holder. “Use this.”
Sarah took it from him, and opened it. “It’s a blank piece of paper,” she said, confused. “What good is this supposed to do me?”
“Ah, that!” the Doctor laughed. “That is psychic paper. The officer won’t know what hit him.”
Sarah rolled down her window as the officer approached. He was dressed differently than she was used to the LAPD being dressed – wearing a helmet and body armor.
“Papers, please,” he said.
With no small amount of trepidation, Sarah handed him the black booklet. The officer took it, and almost immediately, handed it back.
“My apologies, Senator,” he said quickly. “Do you require a police escort?”
Sarah mulled it over for moment. That could be useful.
Engaging her CIA training, she spoke rapidly and convincingly. “Yes. I’m headed for the main library, at Flower and Sixth Street.”
“I’ll have you there before you know it,” the officer said.
Practically running back to his cruiser, he jumped in, engaged the lights, and pulled out in front of Sarah. Turning the Civic back on, Sarah put it in drive, and followed, handing the booklet back to the Doctor.
He opened it, and laughed. “Apparently, you’re the representative from the Duchy of Los Angeles to the Imperial Senate!”
Sarah’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“Just drive, Senator Walker!”
