It's all my fault and I will gladly take the blame. I asked Enola J for a crossover with Dr. Who and I got it. Yippee!!! Thanks very much for the story Jen. QLHT

Whose Family
by Enola Jones

Despite the white-noise generators, Jim heard it. It was a tickle at the edge of his consciousness at first, but as he returned to wakefulness, it turned into a full-blown storm of sound. From the sound of it, he turned his attention first to Blair, wondering if his Guide had suddenly developed asthma -- that was one hell of a wheeze. But he found Blair sound asleep, breathing normally -- and then it hit him there was a metallic grinding to the wheeze.

He ran down the stairs and saw a seven-foot-tall blue box with the words "POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX" shimmer into existence in the middle of his living room! Not knowing quite what else to do, he lifted his gun and aimed it right at it. Hearing a single heartbeat in it, he called, "Cascade Police! Come out with your hands up!"

The door slowly opened.

Jim's gun didn't waver.

Slowly, a silver dog emerged and glided on invisible wheels toward him. A probe came out of it and hovered just short of Jim's chest.

Jim took a step back and shot it.

"Boy, talk about fear-based responses," Blair groused from the doorway.

"Blair, get back, it's some kind of robot!"

The dog spun in a circle, squealing, but the bullet bounced off and lodged in a wall. The dog raced back into the box.

"Now, hold on a moment here!" a British voice exploded and a tall fair man erupted from the box. He marched right up to Jim and stuck his finger on Jim's chest. "K-9 didn't do a THING to you that deserved that!"

Almost pushed beyond endurance, Jim raised his gun to point between the stranger's eyes. Wide blue eyes crossed as they examined the gun. "Ooh, interesting....Glock, perhaps?"

"Who the hell ARE you?" Jim growled.

"I'm The Doctor," he said with a disarming smile under the shock of unruly auburn curls. "And you are--?"

"Extremely pissed off at the moment," Blair chuckled from behind Jim.

The Doctor smiled at Blair, then moved away from Jim slightly.

Jim never even saw him move, but suddenly his Glock was in the Doctor's hand.

The Doctor then sighed and handed the weapon to Blair. "Here, you look like a reasonable chap. I'd say you're the brains behind this brawn?"

Blair chuckled. "I like that."

"You would," Jim growled.

Blair grinned full-force at him, then said to the Doctor, "Yeah, I'm Blair Sandburg, and this is--"

"The man who lives here," Jim growled.

"Yes, mister 'Cascade Police' himself," the Doctor nodded. "I heard that part. But sir, aren't you a bit chilled?"

"Don't change the subject," Jim growled.

"It's difficult not to," the Doctor grinned, gesturing down at Jim.

Jim frowned and looked down at himself, then turned brilliant red. He had run down only in his boxers, and they were sliding down from the running -- and gaping open a bit too much for his liking. "Blair--?"

"I'll cover him," Blair smiled. "You go and uhm..." He resisted saying it.

The Doctor, however, did NOT. "Get covered yourself."

If looks were weapons, the one Jim shot the tall man would have vaporized him on the spot.

Two minutes later, Jim returned to find Blair and the Doctor sitting at the table, discussing the bizarre marriage rituals of the Qwatvalu tribe, while

a pot of water for tea bubbled merrily behind them.

"You call this covering him, Chief?" Jim asked as he walked into the kitchen.

"Hey, he's not gone anywhere, has he?" Blair shot back.

Jim just growled. "I'd like to know just who you are and what the hell you're doing blowing into my home at two in the morning."

"I'm The Doctor. I'm a traveler. My travels led me here."

"Why?" Jim asked.

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"I like this guy," Blair grinned.

"You would," Jim growled. "He reminds me of you."

"No," Blair grinned. "I'm cuter."

Jim whapped the back of his head and got the tea out. He extended his senses to sweep this stranger --- And the teacup he was holding shattered to the ground. He whirled his head around and gazed at the Doctor with an expression of pure horror on his face. "What ARE you?"

"Whatever do you mean?" the Doctor asked innocently.

"I heard ONE heartbeat while you were in there! ONE! Now....n'now....."

"Now what?" Blair asked, standing up, alarmed.

"He's got TWO HEARTS!"

"Jim," Blair lowered his voice. "Are you sure you're not hearing an echo off one of us?"

"No, it's his rhythm! They're nearly in synch---WHAT ARE YOU?"

The Doctor smiled in an eerily familiar way. "I'm me. That's all you need to know."

Jim surged forward, growling. "Now, you LISTEN --"

The Doctor stood up. "No, YOU listen. I came here to FIX my machine. I came here in PEACE. I mean you NO THREAT. But I need parts and I need them NOW. The sooner I get this fixed, the sooner I can be out of your hair." He looked down at the top of Jim's head. "Well, whatever hair you have left...."

Jim opened his mouth, but Blair broke in. "What do you need to fix it?"

"Four thousand grams of Byertnsite."

Jim frowned. "Of WHAT?"

He frowned. "What DO they call it on Earth.... uhm.... willow's bark derivative? Acetylic acid?"

Blair's eyes went wide and he nodded, beginning to grin. "We can get you that, easy."

Jim looked at him. "We CAN? What IS this Byerstuff anyhow?"

Blair grinned at Jim. "Four thousand grams... eight pounds of aspirin."

Jim blinked at him. "That's all you need? ASPIRIN?"

The Doctor nodded. "My harmonic systems need the acid to vibrate properly."

"Aspirin." Jim sighs. "We get a real life alien come to visit and does he want to see our leaders? NO, he just wants ASPIRIN..."

"Talk about an interstellar headache...." Blair quipped. "Come on, Doctor," he laughed. "I know an all night drug store that might help."

"You could just wait till morning and raid Simon's stash," Jim smiled.

"And be pulling metermaid duty until the end of the Millennium? NO thank you!"

As the three of them walked down to the drug store, the Doctor asked casually, "So, Blair... tell me about yourself."

He shrugged. "Not much to tell ---"

"When were you born?"


He seemed very thoughtful. "And your... mother?"


The Doctor's eyes closed and he blew air out of his cheeks. "Would she be... related... to someone from England?"

Blair frowned. "... my grandmother came from England."

"What was her name?"


The Doctor sat down with a THUMP. Right in the middle of the sidewalk. "Sarah -- WHAT?"


"Nonono, her MAIDEN name."

"Smith. Sarah Smith."


Blair nodded. Jim didn't like the turn this had taken. "Doctor?"

"What part of England?" he pressed.

"South Croyden -- migrated here in 1945, while she was pregnant with my mother. Why?"

"Aw, moons of Gallifrey," the Doctor groaned, dropping his head in his hands. "I was trying to get her back to 1975... looks like I missed...."

"What are you going on about?" Jim demanded. "You're saying you knew his grandmother?"

The Doctor's face grew red. "You ... might... say that...."

"How well?" Blair asked.

" the Biblical sense...."

Jim sighed. "Better make it TEN pounds of aspirin, Blair. I think we're gonna need it."

Blair just gaped at him. "You CANT be saying what it sounds like you're saying!"

Jim just stared. "Well, it WOULD explain the hair and eyes -- you didn't get either of THOSE from Naomi..."

Blair just walked into the drugstore and came out with a huge bag. "Let's go."

"Blair---" the Doctor began.

"Save it," he said, turning on his heel. "Look, I want you out of my house. This will get you out, right?" At his nod, Blair went on, "Then let's do this. I want you GONE."

"But Blair--"

"NO. You are obviously DERANGED and I want NO part of this!" He stuck the bag in Jim's hand. "I'm going for a walk." And he stormed off.

The Doctor whistled. "TALK about fear-based responses...."

Jim smiled. "He's been living with me too long. Come on, let's get you gone."

The Doctor came out of the big blue box a few minutes later. "Here," he said, handing Jim an envelope. "Would you -- give that to Blair please?"

"Why don't you --"

"I'm not going to be here." He smiled and walked into his box. "Godspeed, Jim."

"Same to you, Doctor."

His curly head popped back out. "Oh, I have something for you, too."

"Which would be--?"

The dog rolled back out. "Mas-Ter," it said in a tinny voice.

Jim looked wide-eyed at the Doctor, who grinned. "It's K-9 mark 4. He likes you, so he's yours. Just don't shoot him, okay?" He winked and closed the door.

A moment later, that asthmatic rattling began.

A moment after that, the blue box vanished.

And a moment after THAT, Blair walked in the door. "Good."

"He left this for you."

Blair sighed and took the envelope, walking forward looking at it -- and tripping over the dog.

"Sor-ry," K-9 said, rolling over to Jim's side. "Mas-Ter, I hun-gry."

Jim blinked. "Uhm... K-9... what do you... eat?"

There was a whirring, then he said, "WD-40 should suf-fice..."

Blair chuckled. "YOU are cleanin' up after him."

Jim shot him a look. "Come on, there's some oil back here." He squeezed

Blair's shoulder and left, the chatty dog in tow.

Blair turned the envelope over and over in his hand, then opened it. A picture fell out, and a letter. The letter was brief and to the point.

*I'm sorry. I had to leave her and I didn't realize she bore my child. You want nothing to do with me, and I will respect that. Should you change your mind, K-9 knows how to contact me. Godspeed. --TD*

He lifted the picture and touched it. "....Mamaw...."

The picture was of his grandmother, a young and vivacious woman -- her arms around the man that had been there. He was gazing into her eyes with an expression of pure love and she was returning it.

He looked past them -- and smiled.

The picture had been taken in New York City -- in 1939. The World's Fair buildings, now long gone for scrap iron, were unmistakable. The Doctor had been telling the absolute truth. "Someday, Doctor. Someday... Papaw."

In the eddies of time and space, the Doctor also was gazing at a picture of the vivacious young woman who had stolen his heart -- and left him a prodeny. He missed her so acutely so suddenly that he keeled over on his bed, clutching the picture close. And for the first time in a century, the Doctor wept.