When Stars Collide, a BH6 x Dr Who crossover

Chapter Eight: Paranoia

Rose yawned, then glanced at her watch. Out of habit, she'd changed it to match their current local time. Groaning, she sat upright. The bench seat in the TARDIS was not the most comfortable of beds, but she'd made do. With only a nap back at the Manor, and only a few more hours on the old cushions, she definitely didn't feel ready to face the day.

"Doctor?" She called out as she stretched, getting to her feet.

The Doctor was fiddling with something on the control panel. His lips pursed in though, he didn't hear her at first. "Hm?" he inquired when she called again.

Rose walked over, arms folded over her chest. "Sleep at all?"

"Nah," he answered as he continued to tinker with a knob. "Can't get this," he picked up a mallet and whacked it against the console, "stupid thing to cooperate." He winced as he smashed his fingers with the mallet instead of hitting his intended target.

Wincing at his pain, Rose edged a bit closer. "We should be getting back," she warned. "They're sure to miss us soon."

Injured fingers in his mouth, the Doctor looked up, peering over his glasses. "What's that?"

Rose's hands went to her hips. "You know," she hinted strongly, "the Manor? Those kid heroes? Their giant marshmallow robot?"

His eyes widened. "Right. The others. Can't have them getting all suspicious on us, now can we?" He gave the TARDIS another whack for good measure.

"Something wrong?" Rose looked closer, noticing the hunk of rock she'd pilfered sitting on top of a small metal platform. It looked much the same to her, but couldn't be sure.

Hands now in his pockets, the Doctor hedged. "Well, I wouldn't say so much as wrong as not right."

"Right," Rose mouthed, her brows together in consternation. "What's not right, then?"

The Doctor spread his arms in frustration. "This! It makes absolutely no sense. It's still just your average, run of the mill space rock, albeit far superior to anything they've got on this hunk of a planet."

Trying to hide her frustration, Rose chose a somber face. "So you've got nothing."

"Absolutely nothing. Not a bit of progress at all," he replied, grabbing up his coat, which he'd thrown on a railing earlier.

Rose moved to help him put the article of clothing on, giving his shoulders a comforting squeeze. "You'll get it," she assured him. "You always do." But before he could respond to that, she steered him to the door. "Come on, then. Let's go before we're missed."

..................................

The streets of San Fransokyo were pretty quiet for a Saturday, Hiro thought. But then he wasn't usually up this early, unless he had to be. However, after all the supposed sleep he'd gotten the day before, he felt more than a bit restless.

"Would you cut that out?" GoGo complained as Hiro glanced over his shoulder for the eleventh time. "No one's following us." The child genius seemed to get more paranoid the closer to the café they got. And it was getting on her nerves.

Baymax shuffled beside the teen, careful to keep an eye on him. Paranoia was a common symptom of PTSD. And while it didn't come as a surprise, he couldn't help but feel some concern for his patient.

At a glance from Hiro, the robot wisely chose not to mention anything about his vital signs. Sometimes doing so caused more harm than good. But there was more than enough to distract anyone from becoming upset about that.