The street was full of the noise of the city. Cars, trucks and taxis spewed exhaust into the air and blared their horns. Fake Santas and genuine Salvation Army divas rang bells and played tubas next to their "Give" buckets. An icy wind blew around the buildings sending pedestrians deeper into their coats and into the warm, brightly-lit department stores and boutiques. There were only a few days left until Christmas, and consumers were filled with the dread of forgetting someone who remembered them.
An old man waited patiently at a crosswalk for the signal to change. His long white hair whirled around his wooly hat. His cape whipped around his spare frame as he leaned on his cane. But there was nothing lame about this singular gentleman. His crystal eyes shone clear and bright, his jaw was set, and his strong demeanor denied all signs of age.
At last the lights changed, and the "WALK" sign lit up. The old man stepped off the curb. He was very nearly to the middle of the intersection when he heard, just for a moment, the squealing of tires. Apparently someone ran the light. Oh dear. The pain was brief; happy oblivion came upon him quickly.
He awoke in the hospital surgery. He hated hospitals, never trusted hospitals. He had good reason.
"Oh my. You're awake." A terminally cheerful nurse was hovering over him. "How are we feeling?"
"From the way I feel and the way you look," he sighed, "I fear we're both in trouble."
"Oh! You're English! I just love the English accent," she gushed. He closed his eyes; the cheerfulness was giving him a headache.
"Thank you, Kelly," the senior nurse intercepted her. "I'll take it from here. Would you please see if the surgeon needs anything?" As the younger nurse left the room, the senior nurse winked at the patient. "Sorry about that. She's young."
He snorted. "Hmmm!"
Across the room, Dr. Salinger was studying the old man's x-rays. The patient had been brought in with a nasty head wound, but no other obvious injuries. As Salinger put a new film up on the light box, his mouth fell open. "I'll be damned!" His hand shaking, he put up the next x-ray. "I'll be ...! Not again. Curtis!" He waved the nurse over. "Take a look at this."
"What's up?" she asked. He pointed mutely at the x-rays. "I'll be damned," Curtis exclaimed. "Have you told Dr. Holloway yet?"
He shook his head. "Do you want to?"
Curtis shook her head.
"Okay," Salinger sighed. "Maybe she'll know what to do." He left to find the cardiologist, still shaking his head.
Curtis turned to see the patient, the sheets pulled around his middle, out of the bed, trailing tubes and searching the room. "Sir. You must get back into bed. We don't know what else may have happened when the car hit you. You may have internal injuries."
"Nonsense. Never felt better in my life! Where are my clothes? Hmm?"
"If you'll just settle down now, and get back into the bed, I'll be happy to talk about that. We're still finding out what all is wrong."
"Pah!" Still, he allowed Curtis to lead him back to the bed. He lay down. "What have you done to me?"
"So far we've just taken a few stitches in your head, sir."
"How many?"
"Thirty-five. It was a large wound," she added apologetically.
He lifted his hand to his forehead and felt the bandage gingerly. Perhaps the cheerful Kelly wasn't entirely to blame for his headache. He harrumphed again.
"Curtis?" Nurse and patient turned toward the door as a handsome young woman with high cheekbones and auburn hair entered. "Salinger showed me the x-rays." Her eyes betrayed her apprehension. "How's the patient?"
"I'm perfectly well, thank you," the patient grumpily volunteered.
Dr Grace Holloway turned her smile on him, and suddenly he didn't feel so argumentative. Having attractive women smile at him didn't usually do anything for him, but there was something about her that interested him. "I'm the cardiologist, Dr. Holloway. I'd like to listen to your hearts." She went over to the bed and put her stethoscope to his chest.
"Heart," he corrected. Grace looked slightly disturbed. "How did you know the one wasn't working?" he demanded.
Grace moved back. "It can't be ..."
Curtis looked at her. "Dr. Holloway? Are you okay?" Then she looked closely at the patient. "Are you really ... ?"
"Two hearts," Grace was whispering. "He has two hearts, but one has stopped." The patient smiled at her, his eyes holding hers.
"No my dear. I'm an old man. It gave up about a hundred years ago."
She swallowed hard and went over to him again. "I'm sorry, but ... what is your name?"
"I am known as the Doctor, my dear. You seem to have met me before. Hmm? I'm afraid I don't remember you -- yet."
"Doctor?" A wave of emotions swept over Grace. Joy, wonder, anger, sadness. He was the Doctor, and yet he wasn't. She gently lay her smooth hand on his aged one. "I won't let them hurt you this time. And I promise I won't kill you again."
The Doctor was astonished. "I should hope not. Now then, when have you known me, hmm? No, wait ..." as she was about to speak. "Perhaps it would be better if I didn't know."
They sat in silence for a moment, her hand in his. Grace spoke first. "Why are you here Doctor? What did you come ..." she checked herself from saying 'back', "for?"
"Well, my dear, I'm afraid it will sound somewhat, somewhat trivial. But I once ate at a very agreeable restaurant in Chinatown. I was hoping to have one last meal there, before I ..." he stammered and was unable to go on. Grace patted his hand.
"I think that sounds like a perfect reason for coming to San Francisco, Doctor." He gave her hand a squeeze. Grace stood up. "I'm going to get you out of here, and we'll go to that restaurant."
The Doctor smiled. "I thought you might."
"Lovely view!" the Doctor inhaled deeply as he took in the panorama from Grace's living room.
Grace smiled back at him. "You've told me that once before. I mean," she attempted to correct herself, "you're going to tell me that again." She directed him to a new leather sofa. "How are you feeling?"
"A little light-headed, but not too bad for an old man." He slipped off his shoes and gingerly lay back on the cushion she offered.
Grace trotted up the steps to the kitchen and put the kettle on. It was strange having him here again. And yet, it wasn't really him, was it? She furtively watched the old man relaxing on the sofa. How different, and yet how similar. Hadn't she felt a tingle when she touched his hand? A shame about his heart. She was hoping to hear that twin heartsbeat again. Grace smiled to herself.
She carried the tray down to the living room. "We'll have some tea, a little nap for you, then we can go find that restaurant." The Doctor sat up to take the cup she offered.
"Ah, thank you, my dear." He sipped it gratefully. "Excellent tea! Just the thing to clear the head. Hmm?" He chuckled to himself.
"Well, don't let it get too clear -- you need to rest."
"Oh well, if you insist." The Doctor frowned. His head was beginning to pound. "I'm sorry, Grace, but I'm not much of a conversationalist just now." He handed her the teacup and lay back down.
Grace put the cup on the tray. "That's okay, Doctor. Just close your eyes and sleep." She gently stroked his cheek, soothing out the wrinkles. She smoothed the pain-induced creases from his forehead. He lay still, tolerating her solace. Slowly his features relaxed, and the Doctor faded off to sleep.
Grace took an softly worn quilt off the back of her rocking chair and laid it over the Doctor. Asleep he looked years younger, but still ancient. She thought how he had looked when she first saw him, and then after he had regenerated. So young, but so ancient. And even now, even though he was centuries younger than he had been before, he carried the air of antiquity about him. She sighed, and picking up the tea things, went back to the kitchen.
Grace decided to familiarize herself with the layout of Chinatown. She looked in the bookcase for a map of the city. Before she had a chance to open it, her pager went off. "Oh no!" She dialed the hospital. An emergency, of course. Sighing, she looked back at the Doctor. Oh well, he wouldn't be awake for a while yet.
She left a note on the table in front of him, and, kissing his cheek, left for the hospital.
The Doctor awoke as an ambulance rushed by, its siren wailing. He felt as though he had been asleep for years. "Pah," he chided himself. "Sleep is for turtles. Grace?" he called out. He sat up, too quickly for his head started pounding again. "Oh dear." He noticed the paper on the table and started to reach for it as Grace let herself in at the front door.
"Doctor? Are you just waking up?"
"What time is it? Where have you been?"
"It's only 3 a.m. I had an emergency. I was on call," she finished, apologetically. "You must be starved."
"Well, I suppose I am a bit peckish."
"I'll see what I can do." Grace hung up her coat and put her bag away. Then she turned her attention to the refrigerator.
The Doctor slowly climbed the steps up to the kitchen and sat down heavily at the table. He noticed Grace had put the kettle on again. "Ah, tea. That'll be just the ticket, hmmm."
"I'm not much of a cook, I'm afraid, Doctor. Scrambled eggs and toast okay with you?"
"Sounds like a banquet to me." He smiled wanly. "I'm afraid this wound has taken the ginger out of me. I'd usually be terribly put out by all this."
"All this?"
"Well, being injured, having to sleep, missing my dinner."
"Oh, Doctor, I'm so sorry about that..."
He immediately recanted. "No no, my dear." He walked over and held her hand in one of his, patting it with the other. "Now then, you've taken on a crotchety old man. And you've done much better than many before you." He glanced at the still open refrigerator. "Oh, is that orange juice?"
Grace immediately took the hint and filled a glass for him. He took it back to the table and had a long drink.
"Ah! Now that hits the spot. Quite good. I haven't had real orange juice for far too long." He smacked his lips.
Grace brought two plates over, and they ate in silence. Every once in a while, Grace would look up to see the Doctor watching her carefully, his bright eyes sparkling slightly. "It's funny," she said at last. "On the surface, you're so different from your self I knew before. But you're so similar. I guess I don't understand it."
"Regeneration, hmm? Yes, it is a rather mystical process I suppose. I don't know. I've never done it before." He dropped his voice. "Confidentially, my dear, I'm rather nervous about it."
"Probably nothing to be afraid of," she smiled.
The Doctor was scrutinizing her again. "You look absolutely exhausted, Grace. You should go to bed." He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about this. I'll clean up. Gracious me! I'm not completely useless you know."
She made a move to take the dishes to the sink. He stopped her. "Didn't you hear me, young lady? I said go to bed!" He looked down his nose at her. Grace burst out laughing, and so, in a moment, did the Doctor.
"Oh very well, Doctor. But don't worry about rinsing, just put them in the dishwasher." She put her dishes on the counter and went to her bedroom for a nap.
It was early afternoon when Grace awoke. The Doctor came into her room, carrying a tray with a fresh cup of coffee and a scone on it. "I hope you don't mind, but I needed to find something to do with my afternoon, so I took over your kitchen for a while. Don't generally bake as a rule, but ... well, have to keep my hand in. Hmm?"
She sat up and took the hot mug between her hands. She sipped at the coffee, not expecting much. It was really quite good. The scone was delicious. "How are you feeling?" she asked him.
"Not too bad. Did a little meditation. That helped the pain. Perfected it with the Dalai Lama you know."
"Of course. Are you still in the mood for Chinese food?" She grimaced at the rhyme.
"Oh yes. But I wasn't sure if perhaps you were on call again..."
"No! It's my night off." She smiled. "How about a date?"
He scowled and tried to look haughty. "I haven't been on a date in over 300 years, young lady." Then he smiled, coyly. "I should be delighted."
Grace kept an anxious eye on the Doctor as they walked through the streets and byways of Chinatown. She was afraid he would wear himself out. He had insisted on walking part of the way, because he could only remember how to get to the restaurant on foot, having forgotten its name and the street it was on.
The holiday fairy lights twinkled in his eyes. He was swinging his cane jauntily. "You know, my dear, I do so love this place. The sights, the aromas. It's unlike anywhere else. Oriental and Occidental coming together."
"How are you feeling?" she asked for the fifth time that evening.
"My dear Grace." He stopped, turned to face her and put a hand on her shoulder. "I am fine. I recover very quickly. It's my nature." He wagged a finger at her. "Now then, are you or are you not wanting to go on this date? Hmm?"
She laughed and shook her head. "All right, Doctor. You win. I'll stop being the physician and let you follow your own treatment."
They stopped at the opening of an alleyway. The Doctor turned and started down with Grace trotting at his heels. Suddenly, from behind a stack of boxes a young oriental man, scarcely a boy, stepped out in front of them. He was brandishing a gun.
"Where are you folks going tonight? This is no place for tourists."
Grace stopped quickly, grabbed the Doctor's arm and was about to swing him around, when they heard a voice behind them. "That's right. Don't you know Chinatown's a dangerous place?"
"What twaddle!" said the Doctor. "I've been in far more dangerous places than this I'll have you know. In fact ..." He was stopped by the jab of a gun in his back.
"Shut up. All we want is your money. Just hand over your wallet, and your purse, lady, and no one gets hurt." Somehow Grace was not reassured. She gingerly handed her purse to the boy in front.
"Unfortunately for you, young man," said the Doctor, "I have no wallet. Don't carry money. No use for it, don't you know."
The boy behind raised the gun and was about to bring the butt crashing down on the Doctor's already bandaged head. That's when they heard the shot.
The gun flew out of the boy's wounded hand. "Shit!" cried the boy in front. He turned and ran for the shelter of the boxes. The Doctor raised his cane to strike when Grace pulled him to the other side of the alley. Another shot rang out, the bullet whizzing just above the head of the older boy.
"Shit man, don't kill me! I surrender already!" He put both hands on his head despite the blood from the injured one pouring down into his hair.
"Liu Hong," came the voice of their savior. "You still mugging tourists? I thought we'd already had this discussion." A young undercover cop came strolling up the alley shaking his head. "You have the right to remain silent..." He continued reading Hong his rights, his gun still in the ready position. Grace studied his face.
"Chang Lee?"
"Hi Grace. I thought that looked like you. What're you doing in this part of Chinatown?" Lee had not taken his eye off the mugger. "Where's Cheng?"
"He ran away, Lee. He's gone."
Lee deftly pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket and fastened them on the Hong. Only then did he lower his gun.
It was a mistake. Another shot rang out in the alley, and Lee went down. "Come on, man, let's get out of here!" the younger boy called to his brother.
"Shit Cheng, you shot Lee!"
"Let's get out of here, man!!"
"But he's a cop, idiot!"
"What the f*ck's wrong with you? We gotta run!" So saying, Cheng grabbed Hong by his elbow and pushed him down the alley.
The Doctor stepped out from his hiding place swinging his cane. With one long sweep he brought down Cheng. Hong backed up against a wall, his eyes wide with fear. "Okay, old man, okay," he surrendered.
"Lee!" Grace ran out to his side. She knelt down next to him, checking his wound.
He was bleeding badly. The bullet had entered his chest, but she was relieved to see it was safely away from his heart. "Doctor, I need your help. Put your hand here, and apply pressure." She guided the Doctor's hand and pressed down. Satisfied that the blood flow had been stemmed, she ran over to her purse, which lay where Cheng had dropped it. She found her cellular phone and called 911.
When she went back to check on Lee, he was trying to speak, looking deep into the Doctor's eyes.
"You -- you told me." He smiled a ghost of a smile. "You said I shouldn't be in town this Christmas. But ... " He started coughing.
"That's quite enough young man," the Doctor reprimanded gently. "You'll stop talking this instant. I'm very grateful to you, and it would be ungracious of you to die."
"The ambulance is on the way, Lee," Grace tried to reassure him. Or perhaps she was reassuring herself. So much for the night off. She wouldn't let anyone else operate on him. She reached out to hold his hand, and he squeezed hers weakly.
They heard the sirens. The police and the medics arrived almost simultaneously. Hong was escorted to the back of a patrol car while Cheng was unceremoniously dumped in.
The medics soon had Lee safely in the van, the Doctor and Grace by his side. The Doctor sat back and watched as Grace entered Dr. Holloway mode. She took over checking vital signs and watching the drip. As soon as they reached the hospital she had Lee in surgery, no bothering with forms or reports.
The Doctor sat in the waiting room as Lee would sit for him in the past. He read dull magazines, watched five hours of bad television, and drank the coffee one of the nurses brought him. It was a long, dreary time.
At last Grace came out to him. "What a mess. It was tough, but I think we've gotten him through." She smiled, tired but triumphant.
"Is he still unconscious?" asked the Doctor.
"He'll be coming 'round soon. He's in post-op. Do you want to see him?"
"Very much, my dear, very much."
They entered Lee's room softly. He was on oxygen and had tubes sticking in and out of him. But he was alive. The Doctor walked over and gently took his hand again. "Chang Lee. You're a brave fellow. I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you for this."
Lee opened his eyes and smiled. "You already have, Doctor," he whispered. "You saved my life first. After I left you I knew my life had to change or I'd never survive. I joined the police force. Undercover. Cool stuff. I knew the gangs so well..." he paused, trying to gain a little strength. "I patrol that part of Chinatown regularly."
"What was it you were trying to say back there? I told you not to be here?"
"You said I shouldn't be in town. But I couldn't help it; I was curious to know what would happen." He smiled again. "Now I know."
The Doctor's brow furrowed. "My dear young man, you needn't have risked your life like that!"
"It's my job, Doctor. Besides, I'm glad I stayed. I wouldn't have forgiven myself if something happened to you or Grace." He looked at her, and she smiled softly at him.
"That's enough for now, Lee," she put in. "We'll look in on you again, but for now I want you to get some sleep."
"Thank you, doctor."
"Thank you, Lee."
It was 1 a.m. Grace and the Doctor had been chatting together, sitting on her sofa. Grace had fallen asleep during a lull in the conversation. She lay against the Doctor, her red hair falling softly on his shoulder, mingling with his white. He put his arm around her gently, patting her shoulder. "There, there, my dear. Get some good sleep. You've certainly earned it." He got up slowly, laying her down and trying not to awaken her.
"Oh well," he sighed, "still haven't made it to that restaurant." He yawned. "Oh dear. Time to sleep again? It's been less than 24 hours." He yawned again. "Oh well." And so saying he went to the spare room to get some rest.
Christmas Eve morning was Grace's duty time. She went out early, leaving a note for the Doctor and a full pot of coffee. She spent the next several hours checking on patients, doing routine operations, and explaining why she had brought someone straight to surgery without going through the paperwork first.
The Doctor bided his time watching the television news and reading the latest medical journals he could find. He was about to set out for the hospital on foot, when the doorbell rang. It was Nurse Curtis. "Grace said you might like to come and see Lee. So I offered to drive you."
"Splendid, my dear. Your timing couldn't be better."
Back at the hospital, Curtis guided the Doctor to Lee's room, stuck her head in and announced him. "Chang Lee -- you've got a visitor." She went in ahead of the Doctor and put a sprig of holly in a vase for Lee. "Just a bit of holiday cheer."
Lee and the Doctor spent a golden hour talking about everything and anything. Lee told the Doctor about his chaotic and gang-filled youth. The Doctor told Lee about a few of his early adventures and the mischief he had been up to. They were still chatting when Grace entered the room.
"Doctor, are you wearing my patient out?"
"No, Grace -- it's not like that," Lee began.
Grace laughed. "I'm sure. However, as your doctor I must insist on you resting now. And Doctor?" He looked up at her. "We have an unfulfilled date."
Lee sighed. "Oh yes, the restaurant you were trying to reach. The Doctor was telling me about that. You got a piece of paper, Grace?"
"Sure. Why?"
"I think I know the place he's talking about. Been around for ages. I think the same family has been running it for the last 100 years or so." He took the paper and pen Grace offered and wrote. Then he handed the paper to the Doctor. "There ya go, Doctor. This time, stay out of the alleys." Lee handed the pen back to Grace and closed his eyes. "Whew. I am worn out."
Grace tucked the sheets about Lee, checked the monitoring equipment around him, and the tubes in him. Satisfied, she motioned to the Doctor to leave.
As they walked to the elevator the Doctor handed Grace Lee's piece of paper. "Do you know where this is? Hmmm?"
She looked at the name and address. "That place? It's a hole! I can't believe that's the right place."
"You don't think a Chinese fellow would know which Chinese restaurant I was talking about from the description?"
Grace smiled, abashed. "Okay. If you think it's right who am I to argue?" She shook her head as they stepped off the elevator and into the parking deck.
They sat quietly together sipping tea and opening fortune cookies. Christmas fairy lights twinkled around them, and the usual oriental music had been replaced by holiday muzak. "I'm sorry it wasn't the place you remembered, Doctor," Grace said gently.
"Oh well. I couldn't expect it to be the same after so many years, my dear. Hmm?"
She grinned at him and read her fortune. "'If you focus on your goal, you are likely to succeed.' Oh there's a big surprise. What does yours say, Doctor?"
"'Look before you leap, and you will be spared much trouble.' Wonder what that means?" he pondered.
Grace barely kept herself from saying, "Oh perhaps just something about opening TARDIS doors in the middle of a gangland gun battle." She simply said, "Well, it's nicely generic anyway." She crunched on the cookie.
Grace and the Doctor walked in the crisp midnight of Christmas morning. The wind was calm, and the air smelt of wood fires and salt from the Bay. She held his hand as they passed the tree where he would kiss her last year. Grace smiled to herself.
The Doctor looked suddenly sad. "Well my dear, since I've finally accomplished what I came to do, I suppose I must be leaving."
Grace's face fell. "So soon? I'm just starting to know you." She fumbled for an excuse to keep him there. "You can't go until...until your stitches come out."
He touched the bandage over his forehead gingerly. "I think they're ready to come out."
"Already? It's not even three days!"
"We timelords heal quickly, my dear. Especially if we sleep as much as I have in the past two days. Hmmm?"
"Well..." She needed another reason. "You should at least stay until Chang Lee is out of the hospital."
"Now my dear," he took her hands in his, "you and I both know that isn't necessary. Lee is safely out of the woods. He doesn't need me here."
A tear trickled down Grace's cheek. "I need you here, Doctor."
He touched her cheek. "Tears, Grace?" He sighed. "We have our own destinies. I have to leave, so I can come back some day. I know I shall see you again, and perhaps you shall see me. I do hope so."
She sniffed back the tears and kissed his hand and then his cheek. "So do I."
Back in the TARDIS again, the Doctor examined his scar. "Hmmm. Not too bad."
Polly put a hand on his shoulder. "So what was she really like, Doctor? Grace, I mean."
He looked into the distance as much as into the future. "Grace Holloway? A charming woman." He chuckled to himself, patting Polly's arm. "Hmm? Charming!"