The Time of Change

The Round Things

Fast-forward barely half an hour, and a clergyman is pronouncing them man and wife. The Queen grabs the Tenth Doctor by his shirt collar and roughly kisses him. Crossing my arms over my chest, I see him flounder in her grip for a second before I have to turn my head away to keep an ugly green monster from awakening within me.

My husband smiles at me sideways. He murmurs, "Y'know, you're quite cute when you're jealous."

I glare at him.

"Does... this happen a lot in the future?" asks the Warrior, who stands about a yard in front of us. He gestures vaguely toward the embracing newlyweds.

Simultaneously, the Eleventh Doctor and I look at each other, and we break into grins. "It does sort of happen, yeah," he replies. I drop my gaze from his and beam at the grass below me, the jealousy fading away just as quickly as it came.

A few feet off, the Tenth finally succeeds at prying his new wife off his face, and he clears his throat. A giggle bursts from my lips before I can stop it; he hears and rolls his eyes at me. "Godspeed, my love," Elizabeth says fervently to him.

He puts his hand on the side of her face to still her as she leans nearer to him. "I will be right back," he assures. Without another word, he sets off at a run toward the TARDIS, which rests behind my husband and I. Through the open door, I see him begin the flight process. I follow after him quickly, the other two Doctors on my heels.

"Right," I hear the Tenth say to himself as I move to his side. "Back to the future."

"I love that movie," I quip, earning myself another half smirk, half eye-roll.

"You've let this place go a bit," the Warrior comments. I gaze around at the deep yellows, muddy browns, and burnt oranges of the interior, feeling a surge of warm familiarity rush through me in the form of an electric volt. The TARDIS's soul reaches out to me like an old friend pulling me into a hug: It's so good to see you again.

"Ah, it's his grunge phase," the Eleventh Doctor explains, smiling reminiscently. "He grows out of it."

The Tenth frowns at me. "Do I?" he asks. "What does his look like?"

I laugh, though by the way my cheeks burn red hot, he can tell that the subtle innuendo is definitely not lost on me.

An alarm suddenly blares around us, and the Tenth jumps back from the console, shouting out in pain. "The desktop is glitching," he says.

"Three of us from different time zones," the Warrior supplies, looking around. "It's trying to compensate."

The entire décor flickers, then changes into a new one completely. It's bright and mostly white with large circles of light attached to the walls. The room feels inexplicably bigger now, and I smile slightly. The lights that have now appeared tug at my memory, nostalgia encapsulating the pit of my stomach.

"Hey, look," my husband quips with his infectious childlike enthusiasm. "The round things."

The Tenth tilts his head back and widens his eyes, sighing. "Oh, I love the round things," he says.

The Eleventh touches one with his finger very quickly. "What are the round things?"

"No idea."

"Oh, dear," my husband grumbles as another spark of electricity emits from the console, "the friction contrafibulator. HA!" he exclaims now, slapping a panel. "There—stabilized!"

Once more the whole inside of the TARDIS changes, but this one somehow feels more like home. The Eleventh Doctor's version forms around us in all its tacky blue-and-orange glory. He throws a wink at me as I grin at our new surroundings.

"You've redecorated," observes the Tenth. My husband has such an adorable smile on his face, like he's looking forward to what his past self will say, but the Tenth makes a face of mock disgust and continues, "I don't like it."

"Oh!" scoffs the Eleventh. I laugh. "Yeah? Oh, you never do!" Silence falls after he says this, and the Tenth stops chuckling to himself as the Eleventh's face grows serious. "Listen," he says to us, "we're going back to the National Gallery. The Zygons are under it."

"No," I interject. "UNIT HQ. They followed us there to the Black Archive." My response is three pairs of eyes staring at me, shocked. I clear my throat. "Okay... so you've heard of that, then," I add.

The three Doctors exchange a look I cannot quite place; it's some uncharted no-mans-land between fear, readiness, and pragmatic optimism. As the TARDIS begins to groan around us, I find myself inconspicuously touching my enlarged stomach and smiling sanguinely.

If anyone can fix this, it's us.