Fight or Flight ( Doctor Who Fanfiction )

Mels and Mars

"Mars?"

Barely looking up from my cappuccino over a pair of thick black sunglasses, I said, "Oh, there you are."

"I come bearing gifts," the Doctor said, and dropped a plateful of strawberry crepes on the table in front of me.

I jolted at the sound, still slightly hungover from the night before. "Jesus. Where did you get those?"

"Eat," he said simply.

"Where are you going, now? You still haven't told me why we're in London. Doctor? " I leaned back in my chair and sighed, before calling out after him, "I'm not eating until you sit down."

A couple of passerbys glanced my way, but their opinion was not my biggest concern. The Doctor stopped in the middle of the street, weighing his options - all to the chagrin of the red double-decker bus laying on its horn at him.

In the end he came plodding back over to me, and sat in the other chair by my little outdoor table.

Conceding, I took a bite, and set down the fork while I chewed, pushing my sunglasses up onto my head. It wasn't so bad, here in the shadow of the cafe.

"Are you angry?"

"Angry?" He looked a little confused. "Why would I be angry?"

"You don't like when I drink."

"Omara, what I like shouldn't matter to you."

"It really depends on the context." I took another bite. "I didn't mean for it to get out of hand like that."

"You should know it usually does, when you go drinking alone the way you did. This is not the first time I've found you... that way." He seemed to not want to recount the details of how he found me.

"I know." I rubbed my forehead with the back of my hand. "I know. I'm sorry. You know I've been trying to quit."

"And you've done so well. It's been a long time since you blacked out like that." He fiddled with a clean fork set out on his side of the table. "Is there something bothering you?"

I took another bite, avoiding eye contact.

Days had gone by since we left the King Manor in Scotland, and still all I could think about was curly brown hair and a jean jacket, cradling an armful of birds of paradise: Anesse Crane, the woman who was in the other car.

I'd never even seen her face, but I refused to look her up.

She has tea with my mother.

She was at Rue's funeral.

She asked about you.

I felt sick, and I didn't know why.

"I don't think I'm ready to talk about it."

The Doctor nodded, trying to read the severity of the situation.

"OK," he said softly. "Do you want me to archive the wine cellar on board, for now?"

"That may be for the best."

With a nod, he took my hand off the table and pressed it to his lips.

Charmed by the kiss, I leaned back again with my coffee and allowed myself to smile at him, which he quickly mirrored.

"You still haven't told me why we're in London."

"For breakfast," he said, and handed over a newspaper from inside his army green jacket with a flourish. "And later, a jaunt to Leadworth."

"Leadworth?" I unfolded the paper gingerly, glancing at him as  I did. "Did Rory and Amy ask to be picked up?"

He pursed his lips, staring pointedly at the tabloid in my hand. "You could say that."