Chapter Text
“We really cannot thank you enough, Doctor,” Chancellor Gax’iue said, shaking the Doctor’s hand vigorously. “With your help, we’ve ended a conflict of nearly three decades, and provided the beginnings of a scientific revolution that will fuel our economy for decades to come! And your friends, too,” he added as an afterthought, reaching out to grasp both Victoria’s and Jamie’s hands, although with less enthusiasm. Victoria returned the gesture politely, Jamie with a smile that turned to a scowl as soon as the Chancellor looked back to the Doctor. “You’re sure you cannot stay?”
“Quite sure,” the Doctor said regretfully. “Victoria has promised Prince Den’iue to say goodbye once more, but after that I’m afraid we must go. After all, with Minister Ban’due’s plans revealed and his transmat machine destroyed, there’s hardly anything left for us to do, is there?”
“You could lead our scientific team!” the Chancellor said immediately. “Ban’due’s machine is destroyed, as you say, and it will take our scientists weeks, months, perhaps years to reverse-engineer his discoveries in the field of transportation! But with you to guide them, who knows how quickly we can reach these scientific breakthroughs?”
For a moment the Doctor seemed to hesitate. “Oh, but really,” he began, but was cut off by Jamie closing the already miniscule distance between them, clutching the Doctor’s arm and almost hooking his chin over his shoulder.
“Aye, well, there’s plenty of science out there,” he said shortly. “So we’d best be getting on with it, isn’t that right, Doctor?”
“Yes, yes, quite right, Jamie,” the Doctor said. He made a move to shake the Chancellor’s hand again, but Jamie was still clutching his arm with visible force, so he turned the motion into a short wave. “Good luck, Chancellor.”
The three left, Victoria on Jamie’s right hand side, giggling a little. “What’s so funny, then?” he said crossly.
“You are!” she said through her laughter. “You’re acting like a little boy who’s had his teddy bear stolen by another child, and now won’t let go of it!”
“I don’t have a teddy bear,” Jamie said, sounding confused and grumpy, and Victoria smothered her giggles behind her hand. He scoffed and turned to the Doctor, clearly giving Victoria up as talking nonsense, and said plainly, “I still don’t trust these Galaxians--”
“Galac’dians, Jamie--”
“--aye, that. They’re a wee bit touchy, is all. It’s not right.”
“Galac’dians simply have different social standards of personal space and physical affection than you do, Jamie,” the Doctor said patiently, and rather generously, Victoria thought, considering Jamie was still hanging off of him like a clinging vine. “It’s very much normal here to touch other people often, even when you’re only acquaintances. And you seemed to like Prince Den’iue well enough.”
“Aye, well, he helped us, didn’t he,” Jamie said reluctantly. “And he took good care of Victoria.”
And, Victoria though privately, he was not nearly as interested in touching the Doctor at any given opportunity like the Chancellor was. But she liked the Prince as well; when they’d been caught in the transmat beam and brought halfway across the continent, it was his cell she’d been thrown into, while the Doctor and Jamie were taken to an entirely separate building. Even after being held hostage for weeks, he’d been sensible and level-headed, explaining to her where she was and what was happening, and once the Doctor had returned to free them, he’d been instrumental in helping them expose Minister Ban’due’s plot.
But in the three days between their arrival and their escape, Victoria had been frightened and cold, and Pince Den’iue had made her feel safe. The dark memories of her time imprisoned by the Daleks had been chased away by the sweet stories he would tell of his childhood, and his family, his loving fiancé. He had the manner of a perfect gentleman, and for all that they had only known him for three days, she found that she would miss him greatly once they left.
“Oh, I do hope we can find him before we leave,” Victoria said, suddenly saddened. The Doctor reached over and patted her shoulder comfortingly.
“I’m sure we will,” he said, just as they came around the corner and into the main reception hall. “Oh, oh dear.”
“But Doctor, there must be a hundred people here!” Victoria cried.
“More than that. This is an international event, after all. Shall we start by the dessert table?” And just like that he was off, disappearing into the crowd with Jamie in tow, Victoria only just managing to grab hold of Jamie’s sleeve before they vanished between two incredibly tall Galac’dians.
The wedding really had been beautiful, Victoria thought as they shuffled through the mass of humanoids in their best finery. It had been planned for almost five years, Prince Den’iue had told her, a great political affair meant to bring peace between the two warring nations on this planet. But at least to the prince, that had changed when he’d met his husband-to-be, Prince Brux’dei. Love at first sight, he’d confided with a grin, and Victoria had found herself smiling too, despite the strangeness of it all.
She hadn’t stopped smiling for the whole of the ceremony, either, from when the two grooms had locked eyes across the hall to when the officiant raised their clasped hands to a roar of applause. And she hadn’t once thought about how absurd it was to see two men marry, either -- only that they both looked so very happy, and so very in love.
Every new thing she saw changed the way she thought, just a little. She wondered how much she would be changed by the time she left.
Their little chain came to a stop by a long table covered in a rich, cream-coloured cloth, the fabric of which she didn’t recognise. The Doctor was scanning up and down the table, but Jamie had spied a silver tray full of tiny sandwiches and was snatching them up like they’d be taken away from him. At least some things never seemed to change, she thought fondly.
“Victoria!” she heard a familiar voice cry, and then Prince Den’iue was slipping through the crowd to stand before them, guests parting around the large golden headpiece he was still wearing. He scooped up her hands in his and squeezed them, eyes shining. “I thought you had left!”
“Of course not! I wouldn’t have gone without saying goodbye,” she said joyfully. “We just had to meet with the Chancellor.”
“You didn’t miss the ceremony, did you?” he asked.
“No, no! It was beautiful, Den’iue. I think even Jamie shed a tear,” she said, nudging his shoulder. Jamie startled, hastily swallowing a mouthful of bread.
“Hey, no I didn’t! That was the Doctor; he cried into his hanky the whole time!”
“Well, I won’t pretend I didn’t give a little sniffle,” the Doctor admitted, as if both Victoria and Jamie hadn’t watched him wipe away a near-constant stream of tears from the second the two grooms began their vows. Somehow he’d found a piece of the wedding cake and was trying it up neatly in a cloth napkin, which then disappeared into one of his pockets. “It really was quite wonderful, your Highness. I haven’t been to a wedding in so long, what was it you say to the happy couple? Blessings, was it? Or was it good tidings..? In any case, congratulations.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Den’iue said, and he let go of Victoria’s hands to clasp at the Doctor’s for a few moments. “I really didn’t think it would happen at all, you know, before you three. I thought I’d be imprisoned all my life.”
“Well, I’m sure your people would have rescued you,” the Doctor said, rather diplomatically, as it had turned out the Prince’s government really hadn’t had any clue where Minister Ban’due had been transporting his hostages. “But we were more than happy to help.”
“And we would be more than happy to accept more of your help, should you choose to stay..?” Den’iue said hopefully, but his wistful smile as the Doctor shook his head told them he’d already known their answer.
“It’s truly been lovely, but as Jamie says,” and here he took on a teasing note, “there’s plenty of science out there, and we’d best get on with it, shouldn’t we?”
“When’d I say that?” Jamie replied, confused.
“But really, the Chancellor was kind enough to arrange transport for us on a long-distance train which should bring us back to the TARDIS. So I’m afraid we can’t stay past…” He fumbled in his pocket for a moment and brought out a delicate little watch. “Oh, dear. He said it was to depart at 4 o’clock sharply, didn’t he?”
“Yes..?”
“Then we only have twenty minutes!”
“We’ll miss it for sure!” Jamie cried. “How far is the station from here?”
“I don’t know! I wasn’t paying attention to the time -- it really was such a beautiful ceremony…”
“I could take you there,” Prince Den’iue said suddenly. When they all looked at him, he smiled mischievously. “It’s only a short walk away. And I do want to say goodbye properly.”
“But you can’t leave your own wedding!” Victoria cried.
He glanced around and said in an exaggerated whisper, “I won’t tell them if you won’t.” He laughed, and added, “Brux is entertaining our parents. He’s so bright that no one will notice my absence for a little while. Come on, before another minister insists on shaking my hand!”
The train was just as beautiful on the inside as it had been from the platform; every surface polished and gleaming in the bright light of the afternoon sun. There were delicate electric lamps on the walls made of twisting bronze, and the lovingly carved wooden furnishings had intricate designs etched into their purple-tinged surfaces. This must be the club car, Victoria thought, although she’d never had cause to take a long-distance train before. The bar at the other end of the room rather gave it away.
They were lead through a dining area which she very much looked forward to using later, followed by a car filled with comfortable chairs, some of which were filled by Galc’dians chatting amongst themselves, before reaching a long corridor with many sliding doors. Their rooms were near the very end of the car -- or rather, room.
“I’m sorry you couldn’t be given more,” Den’iue said apologetically, glancing between them. “I’m certain that Chancellor Gax’iue obtained the best he could, but this is a very popular travel route…”
“I’m sure it will be just fine, my dear fellow,” the Doctor said, patting Den’iue’s hand. “After all, we did just spend three days in a prison cell. As long as there’s a nice, soft bed, I don’t believe any of us will complain!”
“You’ve both done more than enough for us already,” Victoria added. Den’iue shrugged.
“We cannot do more for you than you have done for my people,” he said, almost shyly. “You’re sure there isn’t anything I can give you?”
“Only your word that you’ll do the best for your people that you can,” the Doctor said. He patted Den’iue’s hand again, and Victoria squeezed his arm and said,
“Oh, and do be happy!”
“Aye,” Jamie added, “you make sure that husband of yours treats you right.” He said it jokingly, the words coming easily. Den’iue blinked, eyes becoming shiny, and quickly gathered the three of them into a hug.
“I’ll do all of these things,” he vowed, voice muffled in the Doctor’s shoulder. “And I hope you’ll all be happy, too.”
He pulled back from the hug. No tears had fallen, and he now smiled brightly at them before they all jumped suddenly at the sound of a whistle.
“So this is where we part,” he said, and leant forward to kiss each of them on the cheek. The Doctor gave a pleased smile; Victoria felt herself blush, and laughed to see Jamie also turning quite pink. “Perhaps we’ll meet again?”
“One can only hope,” the Doctor said fondly. “Go on, now!”
With one last embrace, the prince hurried to disembark the train. The Doctor then turned to his friends, hands clasped eagerly. “Well, here we are,” he said. “Shall we go in and see our home for the next few days, then?”
Their home, as it turned out, was a rather spacious but still small cabin, with a comfortable-looking couch against one wall and a desk settled under the large window, currently looking out onto the platform. Victoria rushed to this first and, finding that the glass could be unlatched and pushed open, leant her head out, just as the train jolted into motion. She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and waved it, laughing as she finally saw Prince Den’iue, who was doing the same with his hastily untied cravat. Their eyes locked, and he smiled widely, and the two waved to each other until the platform was out of sight.
“I think it’s delightful! A bed with a ladder!”
“But Doctor, where will Victoria sleep?” She suddenly became aware of Jamie speaking loudly, and ducked her head back inside, pulling the window closed. Her friend had his arms crossed and was frowning at the Doctor, who was sitting primly on the couch, looking quite satisfied with himself.
“I’m sure she won’t mind a bit of a climb,” he said, and now Victoria frowned at him.
“A climb?” she repeated. “Whatever do you mean?”
“There’s only two beds,” Jamie explained, gesturing to the wall opposite the couch. Victoria blinked; the beds were configured strangely, both affixed to the wall, one on top of the other, with a little ladder attached to the foot of the upper bed. That bed was small, only fit for one person, while the other was twice its width. They both looked very comfortable and plush, but there were indeed just the two of them.
“I suppose this is what Prince Den’iue meant by not being able to provide more,” the Doctor mused.
“I thought he said so because he couldn’t find me my own room,” Victoria replied.
“Why would you want your own room?”
“It’s improper!” she cried. “For an unmarried girl to share a room with a man who isn’t family, it isn’t done!”
“She’s right, Doctor,” Jamie said, still with his arms folded but seemingly more out of awkwardness, now. “It’d be against her honour.”
“Oh, honestly, you two,” the Doctor grumbled. He jumped up from his seat and stood between them, clasping his hands and looking at each of them earnestly. “I would have thought you’d both have gotten over your old-fashioned social rules by now, just a little bit. No one is ruining anyone’s honour just by having a sleepover -- I rather think it will be quite fun. We’re all good friends, and they say friends are the best kind of family, anyway. So there shouldn’t be any problems, should there?”
Suddenly Victoria felt quite embarrassed, as if she’d spoken on something she thought herself to be knowledgeable in, only to be corrected. She’d felt the same way after Prince Den’iue had told her about his fiancé, when she’d expressed her confusion over how it could be possible that he was engaged to another man, only to be met with confusion in turn. It made her feel out of place and ignorant, and she’d only felt even more so when Jamie had shown none of the same confusion when they’d met again. He’d even joked at the station about Den’iue’s new husband! It felt like a petty thing to be upset over, but for all that Jamie came from a time long before her own, he seemed so much more capable of accepting and adapting to the places they went and the creatures they met and the new ideas they learned.
That certainly seemed to be the case now, as Jamie’s frown quickly smoothed out and he gave an easy shrug, saying, “Aye, alright, but there’s still only two beds, Doctor. Unless you’ve got another one of those in your pockets--”
“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary,” the Doctor interrupted. “I don’t need to sleep nearly so much as humans do. You two take the beds. If I need a kip, this sofa will be quite good enough.”
Victoria was ready to accept this; even if it was easy to forget, she was aware that the Doctor was an alien, and this seemed a reasonable thing for an alien to do. But she saw Jamie give him a skeptical look.
“I thought you said you were tired,” he said suspiciously.
“Oh, don’t fuss, Jamie--”
“Aye, you said all you wanted was a nice, soft bed--”
“--the sofa is really very comfortable--”
“--and if you don’t sleep I know you’ll just talk my ear off--”
“--so unless you’d rather I share with you--”
“--and that’d be fine,” Jamie said, and then scrunched his face up in confusion, like he didn’t know why he’d said what he did. Victoria smothered a giggle at the look, and the Doctor clapped his hands with a smile.
“Well, that’s alright then,” he said. “Do you think they’re serving up tea in the dining car yet? Only I’m rather famished.” And he slid open the door to their cabin and was gone, just like that, leaving poor, befuddled Jamie behind.
“He’s right, you know,” Victoria said.
“Eh?”
“I haven’t had friends stay with me since I was very young,” she continued, linking their arms together. “I think it’ll be rather fun, don’t you? Maybe we can stay up and tell ghost stories!”
“Oh, aye,” Jamie said, finally catching up to the conversation. “As long as we’re all huddling up together like wee bairns…”
“Like what?”
“Like bairns,” he repeated. She looked at him blankly. “Children. Ach, I forget how English you are. Come on, maybe they have something like a proper Scottish meal on this train…”
There didn’t end up being anything Jamie deemed “proper Scottish” in the dining car, but there wasn’t anything Victoria recognised as English, either. The menu had words like “roast” and “pudding” on it, but they were all proceeded by words that the TARDIS didn’t translate - local animals and fruits, the Doctor explained, before ordering on behalf of all of them.
“But I thought the TARDIS could translate anything?” Victoria asked the Doctor as they tucked into their meal. The sun was almost set now, and the delicate little wall lamps had come alight.
“In a manner of speaking,” the Doctor said. He put down his knife and fork to gesticulate as he spoke. “If what is being said has a direct translation to the language you prefer, then it translates for you. But in the case of something like this lovely meal,” here he indicated the plate of roast meat that had been brought to them, “it isn’t anything that has a word in English, so it just leaves the word as it is.”
“I see,” Victoria said slowly. “It doesn’t turn into English, because there’s no English word for it to turn into.”
“Very good. Although I could describe it with the English word ‘delicious’, I believe.”
“But wait a minute,” she continued. “Before, in the cabin, Jamie used a Scottish word, and then said that it meant ‘children’. Why didn’t I just hear that in English, if there was such a simple translation for it?”
The Doctor paused mid-mouthful, his eyebrows furrowing. “Hmm,” he hummed, and once he’d swallowed the food, said, “That’s rather a special case. A little trick of the English language, you might say. Oh, how do I explain -- yes, yes, that will do. Jamie?”
“Hmm?” Jamie looked up from where he was eating as politely as he could, possibly cowed by the air of luxury around him.
“Will you say something in Gaelic for us? A full sentence, please.”
He swallowed his food and grinned. “Aye, since you asked so pretty.” He glanced around, eyes alighting on the plate in front of him once more, and asked, “Is this not pork, then?”
Now that she was really paying attention, Victoria thought she could spot the translation circuit at work; Jamie’s accent had sounded ever so slightly different when he spoke the words, and she had the disconcerting feeling that the way he’d moved his mouth didn’t quite match the sounds she’d heard. She shuddered, and then hoped that neither of them had seen.
The Doctor at least was looking at Jamie with utmost concentration. “No, it isn’t,” he said after a few moments.
“What is it?”
“Best not to think about it.” With that he turned to his gaze to Victoria. “There, you see? You heard all that in English, didn’t you?”
“Of course,” Victoria said. And then, “Did you hear it in English too, Doctor? Or do you have a different first language?” She’d never even considered it before, but it suddenly made sense; as she’d been reminded earlier, the Doctor was an alien, and that meant he presumably had his own language and culture from the planet he was born on. Something else suddenly occurred to her, too, and she blurted out: “Do you speak English to us, or do you have your own language?”
Jamie had given up on his food by now and was also watching the Doctor. By the look on his face, Victoria gathered this was a new thought to him, too.
But the Doctor just chuckled. “No, no. My first language is very different to yours, but I’ve known English for a very long time, as well as a great deal of other Earth languages. I’ve found it’s easier to speak and think in English, when travelling with humans who do the same. So yes, if you speak to me in English, that’s what I’ll hear it as, and I’ll reply in the same.” He suddenly gave Jamie a look that was both cross and fond. “And when Jamie speaks to me in Gaelic, that’s what I hear it as, and I do my very best to reply in the same.”
“Ach, you’re doing fine,” Jamie said encouragingly as Victoria processed this. “You’re accent’s a wee bit off, but I can’t imagine you with a proper accent anyway.”
“My accent is-? I’ll have you know I am excellent at accents!”
“Oh, aye, Doktor von Wer--”
“Oh, stop it, you two!” Victoria interrupted. Usually she enjoyed watching their friendly bickering, but several new ideas were crashing around in her head at once, and she’d prefer them to help sort them out, rather than confuse her more. “Do you mean to say you two have been speaking an entirely different language this whole time, without my even knowing?”
“Certainly not the whole time,” the Doctor said. “In fact, rarely ever. I’m still learning, after all. Jamie’s been teaching me, you see -- I’ve never managed to learn any of the Celtic languages. Although if I’d known they’d be so difficult, I would have never asked!”
“He’s just sore because he’s not a genius at it, like with everything else,” Jamie whispered loudly to her. She stifled a giggle at the Doctor’s scowl.
“You’re enjoying having this to make fun of me for, aren’t you?” he said.
“Aye, maybe,” Jamie said serenely. The Doctor glared at him again, but he just grinned sunnily and took another forkful of roast meat.
“Some languages are naturally difficult to learn, and that’s not my fault,” the Doctor huffed, and then snapped his fingers, brightening suddenly. “Oh! But that’s what I was saying! English is a tricky language, one of the most difficult on Earth, you know, and not the least because it has so many dialects . You see, Victoria, your English and my English are very nearly the same, as I learnt the language from English folk, just a tad after your time. But Jamie has learned a very different kind of English, just as someone from, oh, Jamaica, or Singapore, or Australia would. And his English includes some words that yours doesn’t have, just as yours has a few words that his doesn’t. But since at its roots it’s still the same language…”
“The TARDIS doesn’t translate it,” Victoria finished, finally understanding. “It just assumes I know all these words, because they all count as English!”
The Doctor clapped his hands and beamed. “Exactly!” The Doctor turned to Jamie and said, “Now, would you say something in English, Jamie, with a Scots word or two in there?”
“Aye, what’s the magic word, then?” Jamie said, still grinning.
The Doctor sighed, thought for a moment, then said, “Please!” But as Victoria watched, fascinated, she saw that his mouth moved for a few moments after he spoke, and knew she was hearing the translation of a slightly longer phrase.
“Alright,” Jamie said, “but I ken you’re just gonna girn about it.”
The Doctor gave Victoria a pleased little smile. “There, you see? Perfectly understandable Scottish-English, once you learn a few words. Now, ‘ken’ means to know, and ‘girn’ means… well, it means.... What does it mean, Jamie?”
“To complain,” Jamie said smugly through his mouthful of food, and then almost spat the mess out laughing when the Doctor balled up his cloth napkin and threw it in his face, and Victoria found that she couldn’t stop laughing, either.
“Do you really not speak Gaelic to anyone except the Doctor?” she asked later.
The Doctor was off exploring the train in a fit of childish energy, leaving her and Jamie to digest their meal in the little cabin that would be their home for the next two days. Jamie seemed content enough to take a nap on the lower bed, but Victoria’s mind was still ticking over from their dinner conversation.
At her question, Jamie cracked an eye open. “Aye, mostly,” he said, seemingly unconcerned. “Sometimes I’m tired, or I don’t have the right words, and something comes out Scottish. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No,” she said slowly, “only -- it seems quite lonely. To not have anyone around you who speaks your own language. I know a little French, and if suddenly I was surrounded by people who only spoke French, with no one who knew English… I think I would feel very lonely.”
Jamie had his arms behind his head, but he still somehow managed to shrug. “It’s not like we spoke it much at home. You could get nabbed, if a soldier heard you -- one of my brother’s friends got hung for asking after our athair too loudly.”
“That’s horrible!” Victoria cried. “Why would anyone do that?”
Jamie scoffed and closed his eyes. “Don’t ask me, it was you sassenachs that made the laws.”
“What?”
“Englishmen,” Jamie clarified. “Do they not still, in your time?”
“I… I don’t know,” Victoria said. She tried to remember reading anything about laws pertaining to Scotland, or anything at all, but the only thing that came to mind was a fanciful novel she’d found in her father’s library, about two star-crossed lovers eloping across the border. Not in the least bit helpful! “I don’t know, Jamie, but surely they wouldn’t! That’s barbaric! To hurt someone just because of the language they speak…”
Finally Jamie sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and leaning over to where she sat on the sofa, touching her hand and saying, “Hey, don’t be upset, now.”
“But I am upset!” she cried. “Oh, Jamie, is that why you don’t speak Gaelic to me? Because I’m English?”
“No, course not!” Jamie said. He took her hands properly and squeezed them tightly. “I just don’t usually speak it at all, honest. It’s like the Doctor said -- when people talk to you in English, it’s easier to just talk back in English too, instead of translating everything in your head. When would I have the time to do that, between all the trouble we get into?” And he smiled at her until she sniffed and smiled back.
“It’s not because you think I’ll hand you over to the police?” she asked, voice stuffy with tears, and Jamie laughed.
“That’s the grand thing about the future,” he said, squeezing her hands before letting go so he could lean against the wall, arms behind his head once more and eyes to the ceiling. “No Redcoats. And anyway, if they’re letting men marry men out there now, I don’t think they’re worrying about a wee thing like who’s speaking what.”
Victoria hiccuped a laugh and wiped her face with her handkerchief. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “It seems like we always see such awful things wherever we go, it was nice to see something beautiful. I’d never been to a wedding before…”
“Strange wedding to be your first,” Jamie snorted. Victoria frowned, and he added hastily, “But nice enough, of course.”
“They were a lovely couple,” Victoria said, almost petulantly. “They really seemed to love each other. When Prince Brux’dei saw Den’iue across the hall, I thought he was going to burst, he looked so happy. I hope my husband looks that happy to see me at our wedding.”
Jamie’s head snapped forward, eyes going wide. “Are you to be married?” he asked.
“No, don’t be silly, Jamie,” she laughed. “I only meant… you know. Don’t you ever think about the day you’ll be married?”
Jamie just looked at her as if she’d asked him to jump out the train window. “Why would I do that?” he asked, clearly bewildered. “That’s girl’s business, dreaming up romantic nonsense.”
“It’s not nonsense, it’s an important part of everyone’s life!” Victoria protested. “Surely even in your time, most people got married, didn’t they?”
“Of course!”
“Well, then why is it nonsense to think about how it might happen to you?”
Jamie shifted, looking a little uncomfortable. “Well… it just is,” he said shortly.
“So there was no one you thought you might marry?” Victoria asked.
“Och, I don’t know…” He looked very uncomfortable now, and Victoria almost ended the conversation there, but then Jamie continued, “I suppose there was -- Kirsty. Kirsty McLaren.”
“You were in love!” Victoria cried, a delighted smile springing to her face. She found herself quite glad that she’d given up the little crush on Jamie she’d been nursing a while ago, or else this news might have been devastating; as it was, all she felt was the urge to start teasing him for it immediately. “Why didn’t you say?”
But Jamie was waving his hands frantically. “No, no I wasn’t! It wasn’t like that!”
“But you just said--”
“I said I thought we might marry, aye, but only because I know my athair wanted me to. She was our Laird’s daughter, and I’d be tying our families together if I married her. And she was pretty, and clever…” he trailed off, an unhappy twist to his mouth.
“She sounds lovely,” Victoria said cautiously, unsure why Jamie was upset. Marrying for reasons of politics or social gain was a perfectly reasonable expectation in life, and to already like the person you were marrying sounded like an ideal situation.
“Well, she was,” Jamie said, “She was my friend. But I never… you know, I liked her, but… she was my friend,” he finished lamely. “You’re not supposed to marry your friend.”
Victoria looked at her friend, hanging his head and looking at his hands, and gathered her thoughts. The whole conversation had turned into something she felt was rather important, and she wanted to say exactly what she meant. “My father used to tell me, when I asked about my mother, that she was his best friend,” she said eventually. “Neither of them had studied philosophy, but they both loved to read, and he said they would spend hours arguing about Socrates and Plato, Kant and Hume.” She smiled, recalling her father’s face as he would tell these stories, and the image didn’t hurt the way it used to just months ago. “He said that the thing that drew him to her was her beauty, but the thing that wouldn’t let him go was her mind. Everyone tells me that I have a privileged position in life, that I will certainly find a man of high-standing and wealth to marry, but… but I think it would be lovely to marry a friend. To spend your life with someone who you could really talk to, and laugh with, not just be dutiful towards. To have someone you really, truly cared for by your side, forever.”
As she spoke, Jamie’s face had gone from a sweet smile to an expression that puzzled her. He seemed shocked, almost, or maybe -- embarrassed? His cheeks were pink, but his eyes were wide, like something had spooked him. “Does that make sense?” Victoria asked, and then perhaps a little cheekily, “Or is this is all just more silly, romantic nonsense?”
Jamie seemed to come out of his trance then, shaking his head, but his strange expression remained. “No,” he said, then coughed roughly. “No, I -- it’s not nonsense. I hope you find a friend like that, Victoria.”
“Thank you, Jamie,” she said. “I hope Kirsty can be that to you.”
He shot to his feet suddenly, startling her. “Oh, aye, Kirsty,” he said, clearly flustered over something. “I’m -- I think I’ll take a walk. Up the train, I mean.”
“Oh,” Victoria said, taken aback. “Alright, then. Oh, if you see the Doctor--”
But he’d already fled, the sliding door banging shut behind him as he ran.
Neither Jamie nor the Doctor reappeared within the next hour, even after Victoria had spent a good ten minutes walking the four elongated cars of the train. She supposed either one of them might be hiding in the kitchen, or even the inaccessible baggage compartment behind that, but at her description of the two men, the staff just shrugged.
"There was a funny little fellow who came by and asked for a sandwich, but that was a while ago now," one of the kitchen hands said apologetically. "Sorry, miss."
It was fully dark now, the landscape outside hidden by the cover of night. Victoria sighed as she made her way through the sleeping car, counting the doors until theirs. Honestly, it would be just like them to get into trouble on a simple train ride...
A noise came suddenly -- like a doorknob rattling. But the doors were all sliding, here, with simple latches. She glanced around nervously. Suddenly the idea of trouble finding them wasn't quite so funny when it was happening to her!
The sound came again, and then the end of the corridor opened up into a doorway, and in that doorway stood the Doctor, who beamed when he saw her.
"Ah, Victoria!" he said. Victoria clutched her chest.
"Doctor!" she cried. "You scared me!"
"Oh, I do apologise, Victoria. There's nothing to fear; just this silly old man, I assure you."
"Just as well," she said. "I was getting ready to scream for my life!"
"No need for that, my dear. Come along out here, will you?"
She looked uncertainly at the doorway. There was nothing behind the Doctor, just the blackness of the night. "Out where?" she asked. "Isn't this the last carriage on the train?"
"Yes, but they've built something special out here. I overheard the kitchen staff discussing it, but I don't think the other passengers know. Or at least, no one's come knocking since I've been out here. Come and see!"
Victoria walked to the doorway. The light of the corridor didn't reach to the outside, and the Doctor held his hand out like a magician about to perform a trick with an audience volunteer. She eyed him nervously.
"Do you trust me, Victoria?" the Doctor asked gently.
"Yes," Victoria said, and then more firmly, "Yes, I trust you." And she took his hand and let him lead her outside.
At first she felt as if she were standing on a cliff above the ocean, with wind whipping around her and the roar of the train's wheels like crashing waves beneath them. She stumbled forward, vertigo lurching in her stomach, and caught herself on a railing almost at once, still clutching the Doctor's hand in one of her own. She heard the door shut behind them and the darkness became absolute. But the Doctor didn't say anything, so neither did she, breathing through the discomfort until her eyes began to adjust.
They were on a small platform of sorts, hung off the back of the train and built in sturdy metal. It felt very solid beneath her feet, as did the railing, which did a lot to ease the queasy feeling in her belly. In fact, after a few minutes, the whole thing was looking like a perfect little hide-away, although rather cold, and she smiled at the Doctor.
He smiled too, clearly pleased with himself, then pointed upwards wordlessly. Victoria followed his gaze upwards and gasped.
There were so many stars it took her breath away, brighter and more numerous than she'd ever seen before, and all in such an unfamiliar pattern that she felt she could look for days and never find a constellation anything like those she'd learned about in her astronomy books. "It's beautiful!" she murmured.
"Yes, I've been looking for a while now," the Doctor said. "This planet has such a low industrial output that atmospheric pollution is almost non-existent. Which, as you can see, makes for some excellent stargazing."
He sat himself on the ground, leaning back against the railing and patting the space next to him. Victoria smoothed her skirt and sat too, cosying up to his side, grateful to be squished between the wall of the train and his bulky coat, sheltered from the worst of the wind.
"Can we see the Earth from here?" she asked him. He hummed.
"Oh, well, not the Earth, I'm afraid. But if I'm right -- and I usually am…" He squinted up at the sky for a moment and then pointed with the arm butting up against Victoria's. "There. Do you see that yellow star, next to the trio of blue stars? It's very small."
She followed the line of his finger, eyes darting around until he found the star he was describing. "What star is that, Doctor?"
"It's the sun, Victoria," the Doctor said. "Your sun."
She almost couldn't understand what he was saying at first. "The sun?" she repeated. "But… but it's so small!"
"Yes, it is," he said gently. "It's millions and millions of miles away. Rather humbling, don't you think?"
She leaned further into his side, suddenly feeling very small indeed. "I don't think I like feeling humbled," she said quietly. Beside her, the Doctor shifted so that he could put his arm around her shoulder, tucking her in close, and she felt better instantly, like when her father would come into her room and chase away a nightmare.
"No," the Doctor said, equally quiet. "No, I don't like it either."
They sat in silence for a while, both watching the stars wheel above them, the noise of the wind and the train fading into the background.
"It's very easy to feel lonely, travelling with you," Victoria said, half-hoping the Doctor wouldn't hear her over the noise. "Knowing that no one speaks the same language as you. Knowing that home is so very far away. I don't think Jamie feels the same."
For a few moments, the Doctor didn’t answer, and she thought her words had indeed been lost to the wind. But then she heard him speak.
"Why would you think he doesn't feel the same?" he asked. "He's as human as you are. Although I can assure you," and now he spoke wryly, "that feeling lonely in the vastness of space is hardly limited to humans."
For a moment she almost told him of what she’d thought earlier, about how Jamie so quickly accepted things in a way she didn’t think she could ever learn to do. How easily he seemed to make himself at home in strange places with strange folks in the same way the Doctor did, while she looked on and felt further from home than ever before. But the words seemed heavy and clumsy when she tried to organise them into speech, so instead she simply said, “Well, because he has you.”
He gave her a very fond look, squeezing her shoulders. “You have us, too, Victoria,” he said, ever so softly. "And I'm afraid I'm not as infallible as you believe. Yes, I feel lonely, sometimes. Not often, now, but sometimes…"
He pointed up to the sky again, but a long way from where the sun was. "You can see the sun of my homeworld from here too, you know. Suns, rather. Those two red dots, can you see?"
She peered into the sky, but eventually shook her head. "No, I don't think I can."
"Hmm. Maybe I'm just imagining them." He looked suddenly very tired and terribly sad in that moment, and Victoria couldn't help resting her head on his shoulder, curling in close. “Do you remember, I told you that our lives are not like anyone else’s? The things we do bring such a capacity for loneliness, yes, but they also bring more connection and joy than I believe any human in your time could achieve. And to me, that makes these lonely moments worth it. But…” He hesitated, and she closed her eyes, not wanting to see the look on his face as he did so. “But it’s not worth it to everyone. Some people would rather return to the lives they lived, or strike out into a new life. It’s not wrong, or a failure of any kind, simply the way of things.”
She felt a gentle hand on her chin, and opened her eyes to the Doctor lifting her head up, meeting her eyes with drawn eyebrows and a downturned mouth. “You didn’t choose to come with us,” he said. “Or, rather, you had nowhere to go except with us. But that doesn’t have to be the case forever. If you’re unhappy…”
“I’m not unhappy!” she protested, but she could feel the tears building behind her eyes. “Oh, please believe me, Doctor, I’m not unhappy.”
He smiled sadly. “But you do get frightened, yes? And lonely?”
She thought of the long days in the prison cell. Knowing that the Doctor would come back for her, but not knowing what would happen to her before then. “Sometimes,” she said softly. “Being locked away like we were, that frightens me, Doctor. Don’t think too badly of me?”
All of a sudden, he looked completely and utterly heartbroken, like a dog that had been kicked by its beloved master. “No,” he whispered. “No, I don’t think I ever could.” And he drew her to him again, tightening his arm around her in a hug she gladly fell into, curling up against his chest and hiding her face in his shoulder. “No, I never could, my dear, no matter what.”
The cabin was dark when she crept quietly back inside, still wiping away tears, but in the moonlight coming through the window, Victoria could see that Jamie had snuck in while she was gone. He was tucked underneath the blanket of the lower bed, back to her, silent and still.
“Jamie?” she whispered. “Are you awake?”
There was no answer. Just the gentle sound of his breathing.
“Well, if you are, don’t look, because I’m changing clothes,” she said. No reaction. Satisfied, she struggled quickly out of her dress, rummaging through the little bag they’d given her at the palace to hold the dress she’d been wearing when they’d arrived, freshly laundered after their days in captivity. It wasn’t entirely suitable for sleeping, but it was certainly better than the much fancier dress they’d provided for the wedding.
Jamie didn’t move an inch the entire time, even as she climbed the ladder up to the top bed, settling in. After a moment, she leaned over the side cautiously. She couldn’t see Jamie’s face, but something about the way he was curled up under his blankets made her think that if he was asleep, it wasn’t the sleep of the peaceful.
“I’m sorry if I upset you, before,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to. I think I’m beginning to realise how different we are, you know.”
Silence. Maybe his breath changed a little, a hitch in it where there wasn’t one before, but maybe she was just imagining things.
“But things will look better in the morning, I’m sure of it. Goodnight, Jamie.”
She pulled the blankets around her and settled her head on the pillow. She remembered her father telling her that after a nightmare -- or had it been the Doctor?
The two blurred in her mind as she drifted off to sleep.