Time Lady 2

Who Cares About You? (Part 1)

Time Lady 2
Book One
Book Two
The Whitechapel Murders
Book Three

4,300 words approx...

Miss Tree

The dark alley was illuminated by a single faulty street lamp. It's flickering sodium yellow light washed away all textures leaving only a bleary realm of light and dark. Out of one shadow stepped the Doctor. Cool, calm and collected. She was not having a good day, it had taken her manicurist hours to get her nails right and her hairdresser was a clumsy hell child of Omega's sixth son, Morbius. Added to all this she'd laddered her left stocking and her companions had gone off to get a burger after calling her Miss Sulky. However all that could wait; she had business to take care of. She knew the assassin was here, she could hear his single heartbeat, his slow calm intakes of breath, the silent sounds of a master craftsman assembling the tool of his trade. He was ready now and so was she. She casually stepped out of the bullet's path with plenty of time to spare; almost one millionth of a second was a lifetime to a Time Lady. Casually she raised her own gun and fired. She hated guns, needless engines of death, but this time it was a necessary one. She needed only one bullet to kill him instantly. She used three to make the point. Whoever put the money up for this was getting desperate. She was closing down on them down. They had made the mistake of making it personal. She put the tiny lipstick-sized gun back into her micro-bag and took out her real lipstick. She reapplied the metallic pink sheen to her lips twice, for devastating perfection. Elsewhere a tower block exploded in a huge fireball. Only one occupant, tied to his chair while everyone else had left after the bomb threat. One more loose end tied up. And they called her Worldkiller; she'd proved them wrong for a start. How come no one ever focused on the small battles to save a cat in a tree or end the brutal reign of a corporate tyrant responsible for twenty billion deaths? How come they only focused on those seventeen worlds she'd been forced to destroy to prevent unspeakable horrors from consuming most of the universe? That's gratitude for you. Worldkiller my ass. She pulled her jacket closer around her shoulders before tottering off to find her friends and buy them a coffee and maybe supper. None for her of course, she was watching her figure. If only she could find the one behind the events that brought her to this planet. There was no higher authority to appeal to, there was only her and now she was going to make sure that they got what was coming to them. So what if they had plans, hers were better and already they were in motion, the sort of plans that the universe itself turned on. They wanted to play games with her, then she was quite prepared to lie, cheat, steal, pout and layeth the smacketh down.




Erin and Dave were sharing a cheap tasting latte in a second-rate cafe when the Doctor finally turned up. "Oh, there you are. We were going to go back to the TARDIS to see if you'd gone back there."


The Doctor threw herself down onto one of the cheap aluminium chairs. "Nah, I just had a walkabout. I reckoned if I looked hard enough I'd see myself and she'd kick me in the ass, or I'd kick here. It was a metaphorical construct of self-harm and self-abuse. I decided in the end to talk it over with you two instead. My dear friends."


"Are you feeling ok?" Erin asked. "You never talk. You barely even look at me sometimes, except to roll your eyes at my outfits."


"That's not quite true." Dave interjected. "You both talk, I just don't think either of you listens anymore."


"I killed a man." The Doctor confessed her crime by blurting it out. She was sprayed by lukewarm coffee.


"Jeez, wait until after I swallow next time." Erin wiped coffee and tarty red lipstick away with her napkin.


"Another assassin?" Dave guessed the obvious. "That's eight this week."


"I know." The Doctor sighed. "How bad's the coffee?" She finished dabbing her face clean with her silk handkerchief.


"Terrible." Erin replied.


"It's much nicer in the TARDIS." Dave replied. "You let me use the steamer."


"Yes, well you don't scream and demand an hours worth of concern when you put your finger on the wrong part of the coffee maker."


"It was only one time and it really hurt." Erin played up her accident. "I could have been maimed for life."


The Doctor sighed as another assassin exploded, after stepping on one of ten thousand carefully placed anti-personnel mines. "Thank goodness I had them coded to the assassin's DNA. Otherwise I'd be looking at many consecutive life sentences. On the upside though I'd get a great work out and probably a cool tattoo and a nickname. I've always wanted to be called Spoons."


"I thought Doctor was your nickname." Dave replied.


"She prefers to think of it as a cool alter-ego thing." Erin joked. "Her real name is Ethel."


"It is not." The Doctor replied. "Why settle for a name when you can be mysterious and aloof? It keeps my friends interested in me and my enemies baffled as I have no past for them to look up and exploit. It all started off as a sort of joke, now it’s the stuff of legend."


"I met the old geezer who gave her the nickname too, he was very nice."


"Old geezer? 84 is very young for a human in the year 20,000. Ian Chesterton will outlive us all, you'll see. I may not be the most reliable time traveller in the universe, but I always insist on the best medical care money can buy."


"Is that why I had a five hour gynaecology exam from hell? I haven't been prodded and poked and swabbed by all my boyfriends combined."


"You're welcome." The Doctor replied. "You just wait until you hear what have has in store for him, you'll be so happy that you're a woman. All I can say is we'll have chilled bed sheets and an icepack ready for you afterwards."


"Hey." Dave replied quickly. "I have my own private health care."


"Does it cover alien possession? Attack by giant squiggly pan-dimensional liquid beasts? Impregnation by giant slug monsters or alarm clock fever?" Erin had contracted all these already and didn't want to see Dave go through any of them, except maybe the pregnancy, that might be fun to watch actually. She could gloat over that for a few months at least.


The Doctor stood up at last. "Well we'd better get back to the TARDIS. We've got a lot of work to do and I have a wedgie and I'm not even wearing a thong."


"Just go to the loo." Erin replied. "I need to reapply my lipstick anyway."


"Sorry, that's about to explode." The Doctor ducked as the ladies loo exploded inside the cafe. "See? We'd better be going I suppose, before they start asking questions."




The TARDIS materialised in a grotty London backstreet.  East Ham was overcast, ferric clouds hung overhead like anvils and it was only a matter of when it started to rain.  The Doctor had changed into her favourite green silk blouse and casual black trousers.  She wanted to blend in seamlessly while adding just a touch of class.  Of course her Antipodean accent would giver her away but that couldn’t be helped.  It was interesting to note however that Prydonian Gallifreyan sounded a lot like Received Pronunciation, while Patrexes sounded Scottish, Arcalian sounded like the speaker was from Manchester and her own accent was clearly that of the region around the Landralau Preceptory.  Language was relative to a Time Lady and the Doctor had noted that while she had started off with a strong Prydonian accent as she regenerated it eventually became as ethnic as her travels in time and space.  Home now was not a dusty little student flat in a draughty hall of residence.  Then that first home in the Capitol with his wife and newborn son.  Then later the suburban estate after his two daughters three more sons had been born.  Then Susan came along and often stayed over when both her parents were working.  Then things had gone wrong.  He’d been caught stealing the Hand of Omega and he’d had to steal a TARDIS and escape, but Susan had followed him and there was no time to take her home as they’d declared her a fugitive too and they became exiles.  That was two thousand years in her own personal past and she’d hated it then, until Ian and Barbara came along.  Being a teacher had never agreed with him back then.  You can’t teach in a classroom, you can only teach by doing.  Maybe that was why he’d had so many arguments with Ian?  Erin and Dave weren’t her best students by far, but they weren’t the worst either.  She was quite happy to take the time to explain things to them.  Dave was quite interesting in spaceships and cars and guns (predictably).  Erin had been doing well until she’d met Dave and went gooey eyed over him.  She’d been much the same after meeting Yin; she’d been so deeply in love that it hurt her very soul, in a good way.  Now that hurt was like a billion hot knives and it would never end, never let up.  Gallifreyan love was deeper and more powerful than human love.  Humans were like mayflies, bright creatures that burned like supernovas.  They were amazing creatures ruled by their hearts and their heads.  Gallifreyan love was slower and deeper.  It could take several lifetimes to develop a bond that could take humans a Campari and soda and a quickie in the back of the guys Ford Fiesta to achieve.  She was half human herself but she’d never really explored it.  Her fifth self was a very emotional guy, he could relate to his companions.  Her eight self was a ladies man and had slept with Grace that one time but it didn’t last.  He was too much in love with himself being in love with himself.  After that, well her Gallifreyan side had returned with a vengeance.  Even her last self had been a bit of a prude.  She’d only had one proper boyfriend and she’d never even let him get to second base.  Her current self however was very much more human.  She was ruled by her passions and her hearts.  Her head only put the brakes on in a dire emergency, like those shoes with that jacket or getting the twins out in that night club after she’d drunk too much wine.  She was at her core though a Time Lady of Gallifrey and a Prydonian at that.  If human politics was considered a blood sport then Gallifreyan politics was a world war.  She had been president of Gallifrey and she’d done some things that even her peers would call major war crimes.  To put it bluntly she was the sneakiest bitch in the universe and she made her seventh self look like an amateur when it came to ensnaring her opponents in their own petty schemes.  She had only one remaining enemy, all the others had been beaten or destroyed.  She’d engulfed an Elder God of Creation in a black hole for Omega’s sake.  That had been a good one, but it had cost her dearly.  Taking her husband away from her, she’d lost the one man she’d loved enough to have unprotected sex with.  She still couldn’t believe her monthly visitor was late.  She popped into the chemists to buy a pregnancy kit.  She was uncertain as to what result she wanted the most, but come what may she wouldn’t let it stop her from finding this unknown meddler in her past and defeating her, or him.  Whoever they were they were up against an expert now.




Erin and Dave were sat in the cloister room feeding the ducks as they splashed around their little pond.  They looked up as the Doctor quickly passed through, on her way to her room.  “Hope you get the result you want.”  Erin called out to her friend.


“I thought all women wanted babies.”  Dave muttered.


“Sexist pig.”  Erin replied automatically.


“Do you want kids?”


“That’s besides the point.”


“I take it that’s a yes then?”


“A boy then twin girls and then another boy.”  Erin had planned this ever since she was five, right after she’d decided upon her perfect husband and their perfect marriage.


“I reckon two’s enough.”  Dave muttered.  “One of each, a son to teach everything I know to and a daughter to ignore everything I know but still respect me enough to ask for help when she needs it.”


“Sounds like it’s all men who want kids too.”  Erin turned Dave’s comments around on him.  “You never put that much thought into sex.”


“Hey, is it my fault I can only get excited about it if the setting is romantic?  Standing up behind the bins outside the back of a department store while the Doctor’s in there buying shoes is not my idea of romantic.”


“You didn’t complain when I did that thing with my tongue.”


“You licked my ear, that’s not romantic.  Romantic is a candle lit dinner followed by a meaningful chat beside an open fireplace.”


“God you’re romantic.”  Erin liked that idea a lot.  “Lets go to my room and you can get me knocked up.”


“Erm, I’m not ready for a family yet.”  Dave started making for the door.  “I figured another five years before I settle down.”


“I’m in my prime now.”  Erin muttered.  “I might not be able to wait five years.  Come on, lets get me in the baby club now.  I want to be pregnant too.”


Dave ran and didn’t look back.


Erin giggled.  “That was so much fun.”




The Doctor found peeing on the small plastic stick a lot trickier than it sounded.  Did she lift her left buttock or her right or maybe go in from the front?  That seemed to offer the most room for manoeuvre.  Peeing was so much easier as a female, in fact the only thing she liked more when she was male was having directional urination.  However she could do without it, because being female was no real physical difference in fact everything was more compact and easier to deal with, all in a nice neat row and with their own coverings too.  Although her hair care regimen did border of the obsessive and somehow she was paying more for clothes now even though her body was smaller, except her chest of course and her hips and the more she denied the size of her bottom the better off everyone would be, but it was there and it was big and nothing reduced the vastness of it, except that flouncy skirt which Erin had ruined with a whole bottle of ketchup.  She couldn’t remember where she’d bought it either, so she could buy six or seven dozen more.  Not that she was a skirty type of woman, but they were nice to wear and she liked to dress up in bum hiding outfits when they went somewhere nice.  At least her breasts were perfect and got her the perfect amount of attention without being too big to prevent her from being sneaky and devious or too small so that she felt unfeminine and depressed.  Sometimes she liked wearing just a flowery bra under her best suit jacket especially in the summer.  However no matter how hard she tried to distract herself from taking the test she finally managed to hit the stick with her pee and then it was just a matter of waiting and looking to see if an extra line appeared in the little square window.  She didn’t feel pregnant.  She stood up and carefully wiped front to back and then pulled her knickers up onto her hips and then pulled her trousers up too.  Some time ladies could feel when they were knocked up.  Romana for instance had telephoned her in the middle of the night to tell her that she was with child (also still in bed with the father still doing her, but she could forgive that, after more therapy).  The wait was like an ice age, but finally it was over.  The second line was there.  Then it hit her like a leaf of lettuce, wrapped around the front bumper of a mini metro doing 70 MPH on the A1(M).




The penthouse suite was perfect for her plans.  She had paid a sizable deposit up front, so that the pesky Super would leave her alone to secure her mission.  The naked body of the previous occupant dangled silently from the noose in the corner of the room.  She so liked to play with her victims before she made the kill.  A damp patch of malodorous bodily fluids soaked the carpet directly underneath the woman’s cold inflexible feet.  Rigor mortis had been and gone and returned for the second and final time.  She might keep it as an art exhibit, or maybe make a pie for her neighbours below, poisoned of course.  They were a noisy couple after all, always arguing and shouting too loudly.  However she couldn’t let herself get distracted from her mission, to get rid of the Doctor once and for all.  No matter what method she tried though, it didn’t seem to work.  The super was approaching her suite even now.  She had watched his progress on the hidden CCTV cameras she had installed.  She watched with disgusted fascination as he primped and preened himself.  He pushed his dirty thinning hair back on his head and ate half a packet of breath mints.  Her stomach turned as she watched him adjusting his underpants, it was like watching a human car crash.  She wanted to throw up.  However she wouldn’t allow her revulsion get the better of her.  She was the mistress of her hearts, the ruler of her emotions.  She stretched out a hand and opened the front door before the oaf could touch the paintwork.


“Ah, Miss Tree.”  Hank Freedle bowed on impulse.  He admired her dark Nubian beauty.  Her sensuously deep eyes and her full lips always painted a vibrant shade of pink or red.  He couldn’t help but stare at her breasts either, on display and invitingly wobblesome.  He could look at them all day and he so wanted to touch them, he had never dared to hope that he’d ever be allowed to though.  “I was wondering if there was anything I could do for you.  Any little tasks that I could perform for you.”  He wanted to see her panties, maybe put them in his pocket for later, so he could take the time to enjoy the feel of them between his fingers.  His mind was wandering and not once had he looked at her face.  “Maybe some plumbing?”


“I have just the thing for you.”  Miss Tree smiled.  “Come on inside.  I’ve been dying to get you to do this for me since I moved in here.”


Hank shut the door behind himself he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the hanging corpse and when he turned around to run, he was shot with some sort of gun.  His body was wracked with considerable and varied agonies but he was dead before he could scream and his body was boiled, baked and then reduced to a fine dust before it spread over the floor.


Miss Tree smiled to herself and put the pulsar pistol back into her handbag.  “Oh baby, that was great!  How was it for you, sweetheart?”  She turned to the far side of the apartment.  There stood an alternate version of Hank Freedle, from a dead time line.  She activated the awakening process.  The time line was easy to manipulate to put this Hank in the place of the other one.  The main difference however was that her Hank was her loyal and obedient slave and he was also a much more worthwhile human being, not that she cared anything for humans other than they were a convenient resource to be used as and when they suited her plans.  Her Hank was a suave and sophisticated charmer, a university graduate and prime specimen of the male form.  She had plans for him before she allowed him out of her bedroom and back on the job.  The next stage of her plan was now underway and it was only a matter of time now before the Doctor paid for her treachery.  Paid for it in blood.




The Doctor used the temporal scanner to locate the disturbance in time.  “It’s coming from New York.”


“Oooh, shops.”  Dave exclaimed, imitating Erin.


“Hey, I do not talk like that.”  Erin playfully punched Dave’s arm.


Dave collapsed to the floor and pretended to be dying.  “Is this death?”


“Cut it out you two.”  The Doctor muttered.  “Get up Dave; we’ve got work to do.”




Miss Tree rubbed her hands together as she saw the blue box materialise outside the condominium.  She rushed to the balcony and looked down to see the three ant-like beings scurry towards the entrance.  “At last, now we’ll see who the Queen of Traps is.”  She picked up the three time-traps, tiny coin-sized devices.  “These should work perfectly.  She placed them on the ground exactly in the positions where the Doctor and her witless companions would stand on them.  “Now to arrange the props.”  She carefully pushed the bleeping piles of junk into place and switched the flashing lights on.  “It almost looks convincing.”  One final piece of equipment was required.  “I need a victim.”  She unpacked one from storage.  “Thanks goodness for carbonite.”  She defrosted the muscle-man and tied him up with thin wire that no human could break.  “Mmmm, you do look good, all helpless and well-muscled.  I might keep you for later myself.  Or I’ll rip your brain out and turn you into a mindless drone and have fun.  Either way I have plans for you.”




“This way!”  The Doctor ran up the stairs three at a time, which was good considering she was wearing three-inch heels and a skirt of restrictive stride length.


“I think I’m having a seizure!”  Erin collapsed on the stairs.


“We’ll take the lift.”  Dave scooped Erin’s prone figure up and carried her to the lift.


“I’m not letting you two out of my sight.”  The Doctor said and slid down the banister so that she was standing next to her companions.


“Spoil all the fun then.”  Erin sighed.  “You can put me down now Dave.”


“You’re not hurt?”  Dave dropped Erin on her behind.


“Ow.”  Erin shrieked as she hit the floor.”


“This is hardly an expert set-up.”  The Doctor muttered.  “I used to have professionals helping me one time.  Pretty dolly soldiers in their clean uniforms and bright shiny buttons.  Now I have you two, Miss Hormones and the Boy Blunder.”


“I’m a trained professional.”  Dave complained.  “I do this for a living.  Well I used to, until I saw the error of my ways.  Sort of.”


The Doctor helped Erin up to her feet.  “Keep your mind on the job.  We’ve got a twisted maniac to deal with.”


“I thought that was you.”  Erin muttered.




“I said I think I have flu.”  Erin replied.


“Oh, well come on.”  The Doctor pressed the button to summon the lift.




Miss Tree was rubbing her slave’s body with oil when the Doctor and her wretched companions finally made it to her penthouse suite.  “At last.”  She activated the door controls and it swung open slowly.


The Doctor walked through the door.  “Is this it?”  She looked around the room.  “I was expecting something a little more impressive.”


“Come on in then.”  Miss Tree said her lines.  “I’m ready to complete the take over of Earth.”


“Why is everyone obsessed with this miserable backwater world?  It’s the Butlins of holiday planets.  I only come here out of habit.”


“Hardly.”  Miss Tree laughed.  “This is your home Doctor.  The only one you have now.  The Time Lords threw you out years ago and so you slunk back to the home of your mother.  I know you Doctor.  I know all your secrets.  Your vulnerabilities.  You are linked to this world, you are its defender.”


“I don’t care for it though.”  The Doctor replied.  “It’s a job not a lifestyle.”


“Yet you came easily enough and now you’ll watch me succeed and take it from you.”


“Kick her ass!”  Erin shouted.


“I’ll put a bullet in her brain, just give me the word.”  Dave aimed his gun at the beautiful woman’s head.


“You think I’m beautiful then?”  Miss Tree asked Dave.


“What?  How can you read my mind?”


“You like super-skank?”  Erin asked Dave.  “You are so dumped.”


“We never started dating.”  Dave replied.  “I thought we were just good friends.”


“This is turning into a bad American soap.”  The Doctor complained to her companions, but was ignored.


“We slept together!”  Erin shouted.  “How dare you think nothing of it?  You were my very first.”


“Now then, children.”  The Doctor started to lecture her companions.  “Am I going to have to sedate you both?”


“I’m fine.”  Erin huffed.  “And single.”


“Me too.”  Dave replied.


“Good.”  The Doctor replied.  “Now give up, whoever you are, and I’ll go easy on you.”


“Yes, you can’t destroy this planet, can you, Worldkiller?”


“That’s hardly fair.”  The Doctor pouted.  “Seventeen worlds aren’t that many and I had very good reasons and anyway shut up.  I’m the heroine.”  The Doctor took a step forward, as did her two companions.


Miss Tree laughed as the fools stepped on the traps.  “I win.”  She watched them get sucked out of reality and into new lives in another time.  “I am the Queen of the Traps!”  She finished oiling her naked slave down, before untying him and leading him to her bed.  “Come on you, I have a lot of tension for you to release.”






This is the set up for the finale as the Doctor decides to confront her nemesis and stop the meddling in her life.  However I wasn't quite ready to end things just yet as I had one more story to tell, which is why I split this story up into 2 sections and put that other story in between them.
In this segment however we see the Doctor living up to her reputation as both a galactic trap setter and also her unwanted nickname of Worldkiller.
The title of the story is taken from a lyric in the Antinowhere Leage song 'So What' which is a harsh expletive filled comment on the perils of excess, I also wanted to indicate that perhaps the Doctor isn't quite the whiter than white heroine she's supposed to be.

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