Doctor Who: Adventures in Time and Space - Book One

V1 E7 - 'That Night in Paris' (I)

Synopsis: Paris, Christmas 1999 - whilst a young couple from 20 years into the future celebrate their engagement, a deadly paradoxical loop is created. And for every loop, time runs ever thinner, even for the Lord of Time himself.
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Volume I, Episode VII - 'That Night in Paris'
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"Okay, this time I think I've got the right place," the Doctor says. He firmly pulls the dematerialisation lever to enable the TARDIS to land in the destination desired. "Sorry, she's absolutely dreadful at actually landing where I want her!"
An irritated Diana groans, as David rolls his eyes. "Doctor, we're dressed for a date in Paris, and so far you've managed to land in Antarctica, pre-war Germany and then on bloody Mars. I can fly this thing better than you," she says.
The Doctor is mightily offended. "I've definitely got it this time. And if not, prove to me you're better."
After, the wheezing sounds of the TARDIS landing cease. The Doctor leads the line and approaches the door before Diana and David.
"Hang fire," he says, putting his arms to block the pair, who he assumes has followed him to the door.

They haven't, though, and are still sat at the console on the chairs. Noticing, he turns around to face them.
"I promise we're on Paris. Now, red or blue?" the Doctor asks. He hasn't picked which colour jacket to wear today; ever since being with Diana and David, he's wore a red velvet jacket along with various coloured shirts and black trousers.
"Paris is the city of love, Doctor. Go for red, like usual," David chimes. "Just, don't ever wear a pink shirt again, like you did when I proposed to Di."
The fashion advice from David seems to help him make his mind up - except he picks the opposite of what he recommends.
"I think I'm gonna pick blue," he ponders. A light blue shirt is probably better fit with blue. Now this makes him see sense better, and he looks at David disgusted. "Are you trying to make me dress like a clown?"

David laughs. "We all know you wanted to pick blue, and anything either of us could've said would not have changed your mind."
With this, the Doctor reaches for the blue jacket, with a black trim on it. He gives David a sarcastic smile and proceeds to start rambling on about 1999 and Paris, adding to the list of things he's already said.
"The 1999 Coupe de la Ligue final," the Doctor  begins, as he puts on the blue jacket. "Racing Club Lens won 1–0 against Metz. Not the best game though. The forwards were awful."
"Oh come on, I get enough football talk with this mug," Diana jokes, pulling at David's arm.
The Doctor is impressed - this incarnation quite enjoys the sport. "I assume you're a Portsmouth fan?"
David shakes his head. "No, Liverpool."

This, however, does not really impress him. "Support your local."
Rolling his eyes, David rebuffs the Doctor. "Oh yeah? Who do you support then?"
The Doctor exaggerates his jacket. "Blue jacket, for the Blues. Well, wrong shade," he says. David groans.
"Oh come on, not City?" he is absolutely disgusted.
The Doctor pumps his arms into the air. "I can take you to 2022 Manchester if you want, watch us win the league."
"You said support your local!" David spits back jokingly.
"Oi! I'm technically homeless!" he comedies back. "Besides, I've saved the Earth enough times to pick any team as 'my local'. Moron."
A friendly yet strong stare ensues between the Doctor and David, as a pissed off Diana just wants to go to Paris.

"Show me Paris!" a frustrated Diana shouts.
A startled Doctor nods, and turns back around to open the TARDIS door.
And finally, he's hit Paris on target!
"Welcome to..." he begins as he steps out the door, celebratory with arms out. "Paris! The city of love on the eve of the new millennium! Well, actually it's meant to be 2000, but who cares? Time is just a social construct! A wonderful place for an engagement celebration don't you think?"
All the Doctor can hear is the sound of kissing, as David and Diana stand behind him unable to keep their hands off each other. He turns around, only to be greeted by the sight, and he slaps his hand over his eyes in order to not see. "Public displays of affection still aren't liked, even in 20th century Paris..."