Threads of Time, Part 4/?

A/N: New pic for you. This chapter was a pain in the rear. The Plot Bunnies wanted Smut. The Author wanted to get this out of the way first. I ended up with a scene of Fluff with 2/Jamie for the next chapter first before said bunnies relented.

Doctor Who and the Threads of Time
Part four:St Albans Space Bazaar, Wild Space/Alliance Fringe, Late ‘October’, 2518.

Romana had not expected to see another of her kind here. Well, not totally true. She had expected to see the Doctor here. If nothing else the Doctor was more ‘her kind’ than anything else. To say she loved him would be an understatement. She’d literally remade herself for him, once she realized that he was not going to ever bridge the gap that existed between them in her first form. She’d thought she had the lives to spare, after all. He was three ahead of her.

Somehow he managed to remain ahead of her, no matter how many alters she spun off in her attempt to get more done at the same time. It was not legal, but it was her right as president in such extreme conditions such as this, to use her lives for the good of Gallifrey. She didn’t have the choice but to live more than one life at a time. Although she would bet that the Doctor would accuse her of having a bad case of multiple personality even though she more viewed it as living her life rather more non-linearly than most. Besides by the time this life caught up with the next one it would be too late to do this. By using K-9 and Leela as communication sources and keeping an open bridge with her TARDIS she’d found ways to communicate with her other selves, deliberately crossing lifetimes with them. The Matrix had shown her how to do it.

Threads of Time, Part 1/?

A/N: What am I doing? Getting bit by another rabid plot bunny…  but it does fit with the story, honest. This is set a good 19 months after Nine sets foot on Serenity. He’s VERY pregnant.  And right after Two and Jamie leave Seville Spain.  As such this bit has spoilers for, well, everything else I’ve written. If you get lost then make sure you’ve read All About the Doctor and Jamie, Great Eclipse, Ties that Bind,  and Tangled Web at the very least. All can be found at http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1039926/GM_Andy. I’ll continue posting Adult versions here too. – I’m posting this here because it is just a bit out of the story line on FF.net and I’ll post it there when I get Nine caught up.

Doctor Who and the Threads of Time
Part one: St Albans Space Bazaar, Wild Space/Alliance Fringe, Late ‘October’, 2518.

The Saint Albans Space Bazaar was a long glorified name for a smallish, half-rogue, cobbled together, mismatch of salvaged technology. It was spaceworthy, however, and that was the important part. It was a common stop for Sleeper ships, coming in from the Company side, particularly as many preferred to take local transit into Alliance space proper. It was safer than attempting the Blue Sun Oort cloud while still in Cryo. On the negative, it sat on a longer, more expensive route. This ran between Coalsack Three and Blue Sun, as opposed to the Tangiers-Conga-Scorpio-Blue Sun route. It avoided the majority of the mysterious region known as “Nixman’s Waste” by the local parlance. Since things like Reavers came from Nixman’s Waste on regular intervals, and ships seemed to get lost in there (it was rumored that the Hunter-Gratzner was the latest victim of the region after decades of successfully making the ghost run, rather a shame as the captain had been very well known), cheap wasn’t necessarily better.

The majority of travelers that came through the station were, typically, either on Hajj or trying to make a case with the Alliance for a homestead claim. Or they were fleeing the Alliance for more civil and tolerant parts. But the Majority wasn’t the all. Some folks came through right regular, choosing to live in the black, instead of making roots in soil. Amnon Duul, the postmaster and sometimes general go-to-fix-it guy had seen all types. He currently held majority ownership in the station (about fifty-three percent) and thus often called the place ‘my station’. None of the other titled parties really cared to call him on it.