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Barbara looks at the gift package in her hands, then back at Ian’s unusually pink face.
“Ian,” she says, “I do believe you’re blushing.”
He gets slightly pinker. “Well,” he admits, “it’s a bit silly. Not really the kind of present that I’d usually pick out for you. But there was a human section in that alien department store we passed by, and I saw these and had to get them for you.”
She smiles at him. She doesn’t really care what the gift is; she’s mostly just touched that he thought of getting her something.
“Go on,” Ian urges her, “open it.”
Obliging, Barbara carefully opens the package, doing her best to avoid ripping the oddly-textured wrapping.
She blinks at the contents. Bright red shoes, glittering in the light. They’re pretty, certainly, but a bit more… garish than her usual tastes.
Barbara tilts her head at Ian, questioning.
“We saw The Wizard of Oz together, the week before all of this started,” he says. “Do you remember that?”
“Why, so we did.” Barbara’s heart lifts, remembering; then she sighs. “The Doctor is a bit of a cyclone, isn’t he? Sweeping us up and carrying us off to adventures in strange places, with strange people…”
“This definitely isn’t Kansas,” Ian agrees. “Or London.”
Barbara looks back at the shoes, then raises her eyebrows. “Am I supposed to put these on and click my heels together to send us home?”
“It’s probably about as likely to work as the Doctor’s driving,” Ian says dryly.
She laughs — though it’s all too true — and they fall quiet for a moment, exchanging commiserating smiles.
Barbara misses home, misses it horribly. But, she thinks, at least there’s a little piece of it right here with her. One of the best pieces. Looking out for her, thinking about her at the alien department store, and finding things to make her smile even about their predicament.
She can’t think of anyone she’d rather have with her in the heart of the cyclone.
“Thank you, Ian,” she says after a minute, and she doesn’t really mean the shoes.