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It's the incident with the plant that first puts the idea in Susan's mind.
They're walking through a lush, green alien jungle when there's a sudden rustling sound, the dense leaves part, and what looks at first to be a monstrous, horridly leering face appears, not more than a meter from where Barbara has stopped to remove a stone from her shoe.
Barbara gasps and reels backwards, straight into Ian. Fortunately, he braces himself and catches her, or they might both go tumbling to the ground.
"Steady on," says Ian. "It's only a plant. Look!"
"But... but it moved!" says Barbara. Then she looks again and lets out a small, incredulous laugh. "Oh. Oh, no, it is. It's just... some sort of flower."
"It's not dangerous, is it, Doctor?" says Ian.
Grandfather looks up from where he's been distractedly inspecting a rock. (In fairness, it is a very interesting rock, one that shouldn't be on a planet of this sort at all, and it does prove to be terribly important later on.) "Hmm? What?" He looks at the flower. "No, no, quite harmless, my dear boy. Just some sort of... of protective mechanism. No doubt meant to deter animals from eating it. Nothing to worry about."
"Silly of me," says Barbara, clearly embarrassed.
"Oh, I don't think so," says Ian. "Given the things we've seen? There's always the possibility something's dangerous. I think you're to be commended for your quick reflexes!"
He gives her a very nice smile, and she gives him one back and says, "Thank you." Then she puts her shoe back on and they continue on their way until they encounter local soldiers in the jungle and get drawn into helping them against an invading Sontaran army.
And everyone else probably forgets about it entirely, but Susan can't help thinking about the way Ian held Barbara's arm after he caught her, just a little longer than was really necessary, and how she looked like she found the touch comforting, and he looked like he enjoyed that.
Susan hasn't spent a great deal of thought on the subject of romance in the past, but she finds she's wondering about it more and more these days. What does it look like, when you find the person for you? What does it feel like? How might it happen? She thinks perhaps it looks like that. And Barbara and Ian would make a fantastic match, surely! They clearly enjoy each other's company. They trust each other, and like each other. They don't mind physical closeness. And they are so kind to each other. Like Ian was then, making Barbara feel better after her fright.
The more she thinks about it, the more convinced she becomes. There could indeed be the potential for something there, something wonderful for them. Give it a few decades to develop, perhaps, and--
But that thought, when it occurs, stops her cold. Oh, no! But... they're humans. Humans have such short lifespans. There's barely any time at all! How sad it would be if it did take them decades? All that wasted time when they could have been making each other happy. They... Well, they need to get on with things! Why are they waiting?
Perhaps, Susan thinks, they just need a little help.
**
She begins her new project in a way she imagines her teachers would approve of, if she were still at Coal Hill, and if they weren't the subject. She does research.
The TARDIS's library is extensive, but chaotic, so she's unsure, at first, whether she'll be able to find what she's looking for. But more than once she turns around to examine the contents of one shelf, then turns back to discover one she'd swear wasn't there before, holding a promising-looking volume or two. (She always makes sure to thank the Ship when this happens.)
She reads when the humans are sleeping – they need so much sleep, which also seems like such a waste of their short lifespans – and her grandfather is busy with his tinkering.
She finds a volume on human biology that features several dry but informative chapters on hormones, brain chemistry, reproductive anatomy, and mating habits. (She finds herself skimming hastily over that last one, a hot blush coming over her cheeks for reasons she doesn't entirely understand. It's only science, after all! And they're not even her species. Although they are similar enough to be... Well, to be interesting.)
She reads a number of what are supposed to be their great romantic classics, many of which fail to impress her. Terribly far-fetched, some of them, and, in any case, they often concentrate more on what happens after the humans begin to feel romantic love for each other, rather than on how to make it happen, which makes them far less useful for her purposes.
Then there are the other books. Rather poorly written, most of them, but strangely compelling, even if they do often bring that hot blush back to her face. (It's a good thing she did at least skim that chapter on human mating habits! Although, even so, it can be difficult to puzzle out the unscientific language.) And they do describe the process of falling in love and how it moves forward in much more helpful detail.
Soon, she feels ready to put what she's learned into practice. There are a number of different possible approaches, but one she's seen multiple times in the poorly-written-but-helpful books involves putting the would-be lovers into a situation where they have no choice but to spend time together, alone, with nothing else to do but speak to each other about their feelings, and then perhaps act on them.
She supposes Barbara and Ian have been rather lacking in opportunities for that sort of thing, given how much time they spend running around after her grandfather, getting into scrapes.
So, when Grandfather sets the controls to keep them temporarily circulating through the Vortex and disappears for one of his infrequent naps, she acts. Susan finds the two of them in the kitchen together, getting their "mid-day" meal from the food machine, just as they usually do when they're between adventures, and she quickly locks the door and secures the overrides. There!
She decides she'll give them until breakfast time. She's already prepared a plate of food to take to Grandfather when he wakes up, and one for herself, too, so they shouldn't have to go back in before then.
But when she finally opens the door, smiling widely and ready to congratulate them on their newfound bond, she finds herself taken up short. They don't look happy and in love at all. They look angry and disheveled, their voices hoarse from shouting for help.
"Where were you?" they demand. "We were calling and calling! Why was the door locked? Is there something wrong with the Ship?"
And all she can do is sputter and apologize. Well, all right. She can see now that locking them in somewhere with no bathroom facilities may have been rather unromantic.
But she is a resourceful girl, and she is certainly not giving up yet.
**
She decides it's time to try something, well... nicer. She does feel terrible about the last attempt, truly. Especially for letting them think it was a problem with the door, so that they went to Grandfather about it, and then had to listen to him grumbling about having his time wasted when he couldn't find anything wrong.
But she knows just how to make it up to them. Something cheerful, something to make them smile. Flowers! So many of the books she's consulted mention them as an important part of human courtships. It seemed strange to her at first, the idea of decaying plant matter as a symbol of love, but she can perhaps see the sense in it for humans. What is love for them, after all, but finding the beauty in something short-lived before it's gone? And Earth does have so many lovely blooms, far more than Gallifrey. No plants with frightening predator's faces, though, of course!
She sees her opportunity when the TARDIS lands in a peaceful meadow, on a part of Earth that's not inhabited yet in this time period. It's a lovely day, and the sky is the most beautiful blue. To think, she's almost got used to that exotic sky in her time on Earth, and so many similar worlds. But it seems fresh and alien and exciting all over again today.
Really, it's a perfect day for a picnic. Which was Barbara's idea, but one that everyone's enthusiastically agreed to. (Well, Grandfather pretended to grumble about it, but he was secretly pleased by the idea. Susan could tell.)
And, even better, the meadow is dotted with so ever so many flowers. After their luncheon, when Ian pulls out his book, and beside him Barbara lies back on the blanket with her eyes closed, smiling up at the sky, and Grandfather launches into a pleasantly rambling monologue aimed at no one in particular about the city that will stand here one day and how nice it is to see it all unspoilt like this before that happens, Susan slips off to pick a bouquet.
She hides it behind her back, and then in the picnic hamper, and then behind her back again, and when they've packed up and are heading back towards the TARDIS, she grabs hold of Ian's arm and keeps him back for a moment.
"Here," she says, thrusting the flowers at him. "I picked these. You should give them to Barbara."
He looks surprised, but pleased. A good sign, surely? "They're beautiful, Susan. I'm sure she'll love them. But why don't you give them to her yourself?"
"Oh," she says. "No, I just... I'm sure they'll be better coming from you." And she smiles at him and hurries after Barbara and Grandfather.
Once they're back in the console room, Ian does hand them to Barbara, and, oh, doesn't she look delighted! She has such a wonderful smile, especially when she's smiling at Ian. It really is quite romantic.
At least, it is until Ian spoils it.
"Thank you Ian, they're lovely!" Barbara says.
But Ian says, "Yes, aren't they? Susan picked them." And Barbara immediately stops looking at Ian, stops smiling at him, and turns and smiles at Susan instead, and it's still a wonderful smile, but it's not the same at all.
"Susan!" she says. "They really are delightful. Thank you so much! It's very thoughtful of you."
"No, but I didn't--" Susan starts to say, but she doesn't know how to properly explain herself. And it won't work, will it, if they know what it is she's doing? She doesn't think it will. These things are supposed to happen naturally, or at least to seem to. Aren't they? So instead she says, "I mean, yes. I'm glad you like them."
"I'll go put them in some water," Barbara says, and Susan tries not to sigh as she watches her go.
Really, why must these things be so difficult?
**
She goes back to her books.
Several of the works of fiction involve characters bonding in moments of shared danger, and the scientific works confirm that adrenaline created by fear or danger can mimic that generated by attraction, making the process a little faster or more intense. But Barbara and Ian have already faced so many dangerous situations together! Surely if it were going to have that effect, it would have done by now? And she's hardly going to arrange a dangerous situation for them, anyway. She's learnt her lesson from the locked door incident, thank you very much.
Other characters in the novels are married by arrangement and come to love each other afterward, a common enough scenario in many Earth cultures, as she understands it, and far from unheard of on Gallifrey, too. But that's very much out of favor in England in Barbara and Ian's century, and, anyway, it seems as if it would be rather difficult to set up.
"Dating," on the other hand, does seem quite customary, and much simpler. It appears to involve having meals and doing entertaining activities together. But Barbara and Ian already eat together all the time, and Susan can scarcely remember seeing one of them doing something fun without the other. Again, one would think that if that were going to work, it already would have.
Could it be they simply aren't compatible, after all? But, no, she can't believe that. Really, all you have to do is look at them to see it! But if Susan can see it, why can't they?
**
In desperation, she turns to her grandfather for advice. Although she can't quite bring herself to tell him exactly what she wants the advice for. It's entirely too likely that he'd tell her to stop being frivolous, or not to interfere. (Which, really! How hypocritical he can be. As if he doesn't interfere, or isn't frivolous?)
"Grandfather," she says one day, when they're alone together in a cell with nothing to do but pass the time until they're rescued. "After you met Grandmother, how did you know she was the person you wanted to marry? You never talk about it." Grandfather may be a Time Lord, after all, but he is the most impatient Time Lord Susan has ever met. If anyone from Gallifrey might have advice about how to conduct a romance on human timescales, it does seem like it might be him.
"Oh, you don't want to hear about that," he says. "It's ancient history, my dear, and not very interesting history, at that."
It can't be that ancient. It's hard to remember sometimes, because of how elderly Grandfather looks and acts, but he's really only a few centuries old. Besides, Susan does want to hear, and not only because it might be helpful for her plan. This is part of where she's come from, isn't it? Why shouldn't it be interesting to her? But she can tell from the tone in Grandfather's voice and the way he turns his face away from her that he doesn't want to talk about it. She's encountered this before from Grandfather, especially when the subject of their family comes up. She doesn't want to make him sad by bringing up unhappy memories, not for anything, so she decides to take a different approach.
"I was just wondering how it works, that's all," she says, picking up a pebble from the dirt floor and twirling it around in her fingers. She's trying to keep her voice casual, as if she's simply making idle conversation to fill the time. She's not entirely sure how successful she's been, but she keeps going, anyway. "Finding the person you want to spend your life with, and then making that happen. Especially if you don't have much time for it. You know, if there's a hurry, for some reason."
Now Grandfather looks at her. His expression is hard to read in the thin, slanted light that filters in between the cell bars. Still, there's a sharp look in his eyes, she thinks, and something almost sad in his face. But when he speaks, his voice is gruff and curt, as if he's trying to hide whatever it is he's thinking. "You are entirely too young be thinking about such things."
"I am not," she says. Even thought this truly isn't about her, she finds herself offended. "I'm not a child anymore, Grandfather!"
He only looks at her for a long minute, that strange expression still on his face, and says, "Hmph."
She knows all of his "hmph" sounds, and that one isn't quite a denial. She relaxes a little. "Oh, never mind," she says. She was foolish to think he'd be helpful, really.
He looks away from her again. "I can see why that might be a problem," he says, almost too quietly for her to hear. "The time factor, yes. A problem for travelers such as ourselves. I do understand." He fiddles distractedly with the ring he's taken to wearing lately. "But surely not yet? Hmm?"
She doesn't answer him. He's clearly talking to himself, not to her, and she isn't at all certain what he's on about. And then Barbara shows up to rescue them, and even if she could think of something to say, there's no more time.
**
There seems to be nothing for it. If her indirect approaches aren't working, and if Grandfather hasn't any good advice to give, she'll simply have to try speaking to them directly about it, and hope that doesn't ruin things by being too unnatural.
She decides to start with Barbara. She waits for a day when Ian has been particularly dashing: helping to save them from some particularly nasty creatures and then being charmingly humble about it afterward. She doesn't have to wait very long, as he does that sort of thing quite often.
When he and Grandfather have gone off to wash the goo off themselves, she turns to Barbara, and smiles, and says, "Ian's lovely, isn't he?"
"Yes," says Barbara. "Yes, he is." And her smile is so fond Susan thinks, oh, this will be easy!
"And handsome, too," she says, in what she hopes is a nonchalant tone. "Don't you think?"
Barbara tilts her head and something in her smile grows a little strange. "Yes, I suppose so," she says.
Susan pushes on. "Oh, I think he is. He has such a nice smile, don't you think?"
And now Barbara's own smile falters. Oh dear, has Susan mucked it up already? "Susan..." she says, and hesitates.
"Yes?" says Susan. "You don't think so?" Barbara does think so. Susan is certain she does. She must.
"Well, yes, I'm sure he does, but..." Barbara straightens up and puts a hand on Susan's shoulder. Her expression is kind, but it's also gone all... schoolteachery.
"You know," she says, "that it's perfectly normal at your age to have... Well, to have crushes on older men, on teachers, especially ones who are kind to you, like Ian. But you must understand that it's foolish to act on them, and that they do pass."
"What?" says Susan. What does she...? Does Barbara think...? Her? "Oh! Oh, no! No, I, that is, I don't... I would never...!"
"Good," says Barbara, and pats her shoulder. "I'm relieved to hear it. You do realize that whatever you might feel just now, it must be entirely one-sided. But one day, you'll--"
Susan can feel her cheeks burning. Oh dear. "No, I... I would never... I mean, Ian is lovely, but he's far too old for me! Well, perhaps not if he were one of my people, because we do age differently, and in that case I might be too old for him, but he's human, and it isn't that I don't like humans, or would never consider a human, but I... No!"
"It's all right," Barbara says.
"Yes," Susan says quickly. "Yes, I'm sure it is!" And she runs off before she can blurt out anything else embarrassing.
She decides she will not attempt speaking directly to Ian. If he gets the wrong idea about things, well, she might simply die and regenerate right on the spot!
**
As it turns out, she doesn't need to speak to Ian, anyway, because Barbara does it for her.
She doesn't mean to eavesdrop, honestly she doesn't. It's just that they're in the kitchen as she's passing by – they finally seem to be comfortable being in there with the door shut again – and she can't help that she has good hearing, or the way she stops automatically at the sound of her name being spoken.
She's missed whatever it is Barbara's just said about her, but she can hear Ian's response. She can hear it quite well, in fact, when she puts her ear against the door. (Grandfather, no doubt, would disapprove, but he's quick enough to praise her when she learns things by listening in on their enemies, so she imagines he'd forgive her.)
"Come to think of it," Ian is saying, "she did give me flowers a while back. She told me to give them to you right after, but maybe she got cold feet?"
Oh, no. Oh no, this is it. She only hopes that regeneration amnesia will keep her from clearly remembering this. Is is especially difficult, she wonders, to regenerate when you've died of embarrassment?
"It's rather sweet, really," Barbara says. "But very awkward."
"Yes," says Ian. "Although... I don't know. Somehow, it doesn't seem quite right to me?"
"It's normal enough," says Barbara. "At her age."
"No, no, I know. I mean, it doesn't quite feel like that's what's going on with her." Oh, thank you, Ian. Thank you! "I've had it happen before, you know. These schoolgirl crushes."
"Mmm," Barbara says, sounding amused, "because you're so handsome and dashing."
"Oh, absolutely." Susan can just imagine his grin at that. "But, you know, they look at you a certain way. You learn to notice it, so you know which ones need to be gently discouraged. I've never seen that from Susan."
"No," says Barbara. "Neither have I, really. She likes you, of course, but it always seemed... just sort of friendly."
"Exactly," says Ian.
"But then, what was all that about?" There's a thoughtful pause, and when Barbara speaks again, her voice has suddenly taken on a higher pitch. "Oh! Oh, Ian, I think I know!"
"Yes? Do tell."
"She wasn't saying she thought you were handsome, you know. She was asking me if I thought so!"
Oh, good. She won't have to regenerate after all. Won't have to pretend to be someone else who's never even met Barbara and Ian so she never has to talk about any of this again. Probably.
"Wait," says Ian. "You think she... She's trying to matchmake us?"
"Well, it might make sense," says Barbara. "It would explain her wanting you to give me flowers."
Yes, yes! Oh, clever, wonderful Barbara!
Susan can hear Ian clicking his fingers. "You know, I think you may be on to something!"
Good. Good. This isn't quite the way she'd planned it, admittedly, but it is playing out rather like the scenarios in some of the books. First, something puts the thought into their minds, and then a moment of realization might follow, and then...
They start to laugh. Quite loudly. As if this is the funniest thing in the world to them.
Oh dear, perhaps she's miscalculated. If they find the whole idea so laughable...
"Do you think we should tell her?" says Ian
"I don't know," says Barbara. "Call me old-fashioned, but I simply don't think it's appropriate for students to know the details of their teachers' love lives."
"We're not her teachers now," says Ian.
"Oh, yes, I know, but still," says Barbara.
Wait... What?
But they've gone quiet now. Or... mostly quiet? Susan thinks perhaps she can hear something, but she can't tell what. It isn't voices.
No doubt it's a terrible idea, but she simply can't help herself. She presses her fingers against the door and pushes it open, just the tiniest crack, and peers in.
They're sitting on the settee next to the food machine, and they're facing each other -- no, they're leaning in towards each other -- and they're.... Oh. Goodness. Humans can certainly put a great deal of energy into kissing, can't they?
It feels wrong to watch, but she does so for a moment, anyway, thinking, well. Well. That does explain things, rather, doesn't it? It also means that she's wasted a great deal of her time, but on the other hand, she was entirely right. Which is nice to know.
Slowly, quietly, she slides the door shut again and walks off down the corridor, smiling.
She thinks she'll chalk it up as a victory, anyway.