trigger warning: brief mention of police brutality/systemic racism

*

When Rose mentions she wants to pop back home, the Doctor chokes on his oatmeal.

They're sitting around the kitchen table — Rose and MJ in their PJs, the Doctor wearing his usual jeans-sweater-leather jacket combo — eating a much more pared-down breakfast than the extravaganza the Doctor had cooked up before their trip to 1869. The Doctor is eating oatmeal with sliced bananas, Rose is enjoying a bowl of cereal, and MJ is having eggs, bacon, and toast with a cup of coffee made just the way she likes it — 98% cream and sugar, 2% coffee. MJ tries not to drink too much coffee, but she slept like absolute shit last night, so she needs something to keep her awake until a socially acceptable time to nap.

"What do you want to do that for?" the Doctor wheezes between coughs to clear his airway. MJ thumps on his back.

"I want to see my mum," Rose says simply. "And I need to grab some stuff. Y'know, clothes, makeup...girl stuff."

The Doctor scowls. "Can't you just take clothes from the wardrobe?"

"There's no underwear in the wardrobe," MJ points out. "Or bras. I'm going to need some stuff too soon unless I want to do laundry every day."

The Doctor throws his head back with a groan. "Fine. We'll go to Rose's, then yours."

Rose grins toothily. "Hey, maybe while we're at my mum's, we can give MJ a proper tour of London. Get her some culture."

"Culture?" MJ wrinkles her nose. "If that means eating mushy peas or beans on toast, I'd rather remain uncultured, please."

"Oi," Rose says with a laugh. "Don't knock it till you try it."

"I've never tried skydiving without a parachute either," MJ says. "Don't have to try it to know I wouldn't like it."

Rose rolls her eyes fondly and steals a piece of bacon off MJ's plate. "Americans. You lot are so stubborn."

"And where do you think we got that from?" MJ retorts. She makes no effort to take the bacon back — when she'd asked earlier if anyone else wanted some, Rose had hesitated before saying no, so MJ made extra pieces. Not that she'll tell Rose that. Food tastes better for some reason when it's stolen.

"Fair enough," Rose says. "Hey, when we go to yours to get stuff, can we go to like a proper American diner? You know, with the milkshakes and the burgers."

MJ's face lights up. "Oh my gods, yes. Ugh, if I could, I'd take you guys to Angela's."

"Who's Angela?" the Doctor asks.

"It's not a who, it's a what," MJ explains. "It's the name of the diner my mom used to work at. The cooks there were so nice, they always made food for my mom to bring home to me and it always tasted so fucking good."

Rose pouts. "Well, why can't we go? Is it closed or somethin'?"

"I...have no idea, actually," MJ says. "But I doubt the same people still work there. It's been over a decade since then."

"What happened to you a decade ago?" Rose asks. "'Coz you keep saying, 'Oh, I haven't had this in almost eleven years' and 'Oh, I haven't been there in over a decade' and whatnot."

MJ shoots her a blank look. "I moved."

That's deeply oversimplifying it, but it's still not technically a lie.

"Oh." Rose deflates slightly. "Kind of thought there'd be more to it than that."

MJ shrugs, leaning back in her seat. "Sorry that my life isn't exciting enough for you."

"Believe me, I'm sure your life is loads more interestin' than mine," Rose says.

Oh, you have no idea.

*

MJ decides to put a little more effort into her look today. After all, she might be meeting Rose's mom for the first time, and first impressions are everything.

A nice pair of jeans and a white frilly tank top under a buttercup yellow cardigan dotted with daises seems like a good, solid outfit. It's cute, but not clearly trying too hard, and should be good if she needs to do any running. As for her hair, she takes the time to put her curls up in a ponytail, with two small braids to frame her face. She even uses gel to tame her baby hairs and make everything look just right. Her makeup skills don't extend beyond eyeliner and lip gloss, but it's better than nothing. She looks at herself in her full-length mirror in the walk-in closet, twisting and turning to see all the angles. Is this enough? Does she look nice?

You know what? It's good enough.

A pair of yellow socks and white sneakers later, MJ's just about ready to go. All that's left is to slide on her ring and put on her camp necklace. Okay, now she's ready to face the world. Wait. No. She sprays herself with her strawberry-scented body mist. Now she's ready to face the world.

As expected, Rose and the Doctor are already in the console room.

"No backpack?" Rose teases.

"Don't need it," MJ says. She pats the pockets of her cardigans. "My pockets are bigger on the inside."

The Doctor smirks. "Welcome to the club. Now, to Powell Estate, March 6th, 2006."

"2005," Rose corrects. "March 6th, 2005."

"I'm 2006," MJ says.

"Right, sorry," the Doctor says, adjusting something on the console. "To Powell Estate, March 6th, 2005."

He pulls a lever and immediately, the room starts shuddering and shaking. Luckily, both MJ and Rose have learned by now, and they each have a tight grip on the railing. As soon as they land, Rose is out the door. The Doctor and MJ follow her out a moment later. The Doctor closes the door behind them and leans against the corner of the TARDIS, folding his arms over his chest. MJ slips her hands into her back pockets, looking around to try and take everything in.

Rose had explained earlier that Powell Estate was public housing — cheap high-rise apartments that are owned and run by a local council rather than a private landlord. The British equivalent of Section 8 housing, MJ would assume. There's graffiti all over the walls, trash strewn about on the ground even though there's a perfectly functioning trash can just a few feet away, and the buildings themselves look sad. Annabeth would hate it here. She'd point out all the ways they could've easily made things nicer but didn't bother to because the people who live here are middle-to-lower class.

"How long have I been gone?" Rose asks, hands jammed in the pockets of her hoodie. It's the same hoodie she'd loaned to MJ the first day they met, now freshly laundered.

"About twelve hours," the Doctor says. He looks rather pleased with himself for getting it right after the Naples, 1860/Cardiff, 1869 debacle.

Rose laughs in disbelief, and the Doctor and MJ can't help but join in.

"Right, I won't be long," Rose says, starting to walk away. "I just want to see my mum."

"What're gonna tell her?" the Doctor asks.

"I don't know," Rose says. "I've been to the year five billion and only been gone, what, twelve hours?" The Doctor chuckles and Rose smirks. "No, I'll just tell her I spent the night at Shareen's. See you later." She turns around, walking backward as she wags her finger at them. "Oh! Don't you disappear. MJ, make sure he doesn't disappear."

MJ gives her a two-finger salute. "Yes, ma'am."

Rose grins and turns back around, sprinting to the stairs.

"What should we do while we wait?" the Doctor inquires, smiling down at MJ. "Wait, let me guess. You want to ask more questions."

"Only if you want to answer them," MJ says with a shy smile.

The Doctor offers her his arm. "Walk and talk?" MJ loops her arm through his and the two start walking across the pavement. "So, what do you want to know?"

"Did you guys have like college or university on Gallifrey?" she asks.

"We had the Time Lord Academy," he says. "You'd start at eight years old and study for centuries."

"Damn," MJ swears. "Did you...enjoy it?"

The Doctor shrugs. "Oh, you know. I liked the learning. The exams and whatnot? Not so much." He hesitates. "Is there uh, a particular reason you're asking?"

"Well..." MJ trails off, her eyes snagging on a flyer stuck to a cement pillar. From the way the Doctor stiffens, he must see it too. MJ breaks away from him to snatch the flyer off the wall.

It's a missing poster. For Rose. MJ scans the paper, then, with a grimace, holds it out for the Doctor. He takes it and reads it. His jaw drops.

"Oh, come on!" he grumbles before he takes off running.

MJ sprints after him — if she wants to, she thinks she could easily outrun him, but he has a much better idea of where to go than she does, so she lets him take the lead. There's something weirdly relaxing about running up all those flights of stairs. It reminds her of running up and down the bleachers for track.

The Doctor barges right into what MJ assumes is Rose's place. MJ closes the door behind them and leaves her sneakers at the door, wanting to be polite.

"It's not twelve hours," the Doctor says, interrupting Rose's hug with her mom, "it's twelve months. You've been gone a whole year. Sorry!"

He says this all with a sheepish grin. Rose's eyes narrow while her mom, Mrs. Tyler, gapes at the Doctor.

MJ leans around him to smile at her. "Hi, you must be Mrs. Tyler. I'm MJ."

"Twelve months?" Rose hisses at the Doctor.

Being the courageous guy he is, he immediately ducks behind MJ. Popping his head over her shoulder, he says, "I said sorry!"

Mrs. Tyler looks between the Doctor and Rose, and declares, "I'm calling the police!"

MJ shoots the Doctor a glare over her shoulder. "Great. Now look at what you've done." She turns to Rose, wincing. "Be honest. How much would your mom judge me if I punched a cop?"

*

"The hours I sat here, days and weeks and months. All on my own!"

It's been maybe twenty minutes since Mrs. Tyler called the cops. The guy they sent over is a white man with a receding hairline. He and Rose are each occupying one of the armchairs in the living room. Behind Rose's armchair stands MJ and the Doctor. The Doctor has his hands clasped in front of him while MJ taps her foot anxiously, arms crossed over her chest.

And Mrs. Tyler? Mrs. Tyler is monologuing.

"I thought you were dead. And where were you? Traveling!" Mrs. Tyler bends over, getting in Rose's face. "What the hell does that mean, traveling? That's no sort of answer!" She straightens up and turns to the cop. "You ask her, she won't tell me. That's all she says, 'Traveling.'"

"That's what I was doing," Rose insists weakly.

"Well, your passport's still in the drawer," Mrs. Tyler says. "It's just one lie after another!"

"I meant to phone, I really did," Rose says. "I just...I forgot."

"What, for a year?" Mrs. Tyler is just getting more and more agitated. "You forgot for a year? And I'm left sitting here. I just don't believe you! Why won't you tell me where you've been?"

"Actually, it's my fault," the Doctor says. "I sort of employed Rose as my companion."

"When you say companion, is this a sexual relationship?" the cop asks.

"No!" the Doctor and Rose exclaim in unison, both seeming a tad disgusted by the idea.

"Then what is it?" Mrs. Tyler demands, walking up to the Doctor. "Because you, you waltz in here, all charm and smiles, and the next thing I know, she vanishes off the face of the Earth! How old are you, then, forty? Forty-five? What, did you find her on the internet? Did you go online and pretend you're a doctor?"

"I am a doctor," the Doctor says.

"Prove it," Mrs. Tyler says. "Stitch this, mate."

Mrs. Tyler slaps the Doctor. Hard.

"Oh, shit!" MJ gasps.

Mrs. Tyler's gaze falls on MJ and her face instantly softens. "And what about you, sweetheart? Did he kidnap you too?"

"He didn't kidnap me or Rose," MJ says, placing a hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "Please, Mrs. Tyler, let me explain. The Doctor and I are a part of a nonprofit charity organization called Asclepius."

"Asclepius?" Mrs. Tyler echoes incredulously.

MJ nods and continues lying out her ass. "It's named for the Greek god of medicine. We travel around and help the less fortunate, providing them with medical care, hygiene products, and education. The Doctor recruited Rose last year. Most of the places we go, there's no service, so it's not that Rose forgot to call, it's that she couldn't."

Mrs. Tyler looks dumbfounded. "But her passport—"

"She got a copy at the Consulate," MJ says. "We're on a tight schedule and she met us just before we were about to leave so she didn't have time to pack a bag or tell you what was going on. I'm sorry, I'm the one who was supposed to remind her to call you when we had service. Things just get so hectic."

The Doctor is upright once more, hand pressed over his cheek. MJ takes his hand and moves it aside so she can assess the damage. The skin is red and irritated, but luckily, he managed to avoid getting cut by any of her rings.

"Damn, she got you good." MJ rummages around in her pants pocket and pulls out an ice pack. "Here, hold this to your cheek." Then she gives Mrs. Tyler her very best 'polite young woman' smile. "You should be very proud of your daughter, Mrs. Tyler. Rose has helped a lot of people in her time with us."

MJ hasn't lied this blatantly in a long time. This is the kind of scheme she, Thalia, and Luke used to try and pull off while they were living on the streets. Scamming people who could afford to be scammed was one of the ways they survived. In the five-ish years they traveled together, they got damn good at it too. She hopes she hasn't lost her touch.

*

Mrs. Tyler doesn't seem to buy the story, but the cop does — hook, line, and sinker — and that's what matters the most.

As soon as the cop leaves, the Doctor and MJ excuse themselves. They find their way to the roof. MJ hops up to sit on the wall — as decorated with graffiti as the rest of the estate — while the Doctor leans against it, arms crossed, pouting.

"It could've been worse," MJ says, swinging her legs absentmindedly. "She could've punched you. Or kneed you in the dick. Or—"

"I get it, I get it," the Doctor says, waving her off. He squints at her suspiciously. "Y'know, I don't know whether to be impressed or terrified that you can lie so well."

MJ grins. "Why not both?"

He shakes his head at her. "I'm serious, MJ. You were doing such a good job I almost started believing you."

"Well, one of us has to be able to lie ourselves into and out of situations," she says with a nonchalant shrug. "Is that really such a bad thing?"

He rubs his wounded cheek tenderly. "No, I s'pose not. Just worries me, I guess." He scuffs the roof with the toe of his boot. "Makes me wonder who I brought aboard my ship."

MJ's heart sinks into her stomach. She wants to say something, anything, to defend herself, but how could she? By her own design, he hardly knows anything about her. Sure, she's let slip some info here and there, but not enough to form a full picture of who she is. And anyone who's paying enough attention could tell she's hiding something. Can she really blame him for second-guessing bringing her along? Has she done enough to earn his trust?

When Rose finally joins them on the rooftop, she's changed into a pink top and has dried tear tracks on her face. Rose hops up to sit next to MJ.

"I can't tell her," Rose says. "I can't even begin. She's never gonna forgive me. And I missed a year. Was it good?"

"Middling," the Doctor says.

"You're so useless," Rose complains. "MJ, you're from 2006, right? What'd I miss?"

MJ grimaces. "Uh, I mean, I could tell you about what happened in America, but not much else. Sorry."

"Well, if it's this much trouble, are you gonna stay here now?" the Doctor asks. And leave me alone with the psychotic pathological liar to your left? goes unsaid. Or maybe that's just MJ projecting.

Rose sighs. "I don't know. Can't do that again to her, though."

"Well, she's not coming with us," the Doctor says.

Rose bursts into laughter. "No chance!"

"I don't do families," he insists.

"She slapped you!" Rose says.

The Doctor's pout is back. "Nine hundred years of time and space, and I've never been slapped by someone's mother."

"Your face," Rose teases.

"It hurt!" he whines.

Rose's mocking doesn't cease. "You're so pathetic!" Her smile falters as his words register. "When you say nine hundred years..."

"That's my age," the Doctor says.

"You're nine hundred years old," Rose says incredulously.

He nods. "Yeah."

"My mom was right," she says. "That is one hell of an age gap."

"Could be worse," MJ points out. "Could be say, three thousand and twenty."

The Doctor shoots her a questioning look. "Why do I get the feeling that's not a random example you just made up?"

"Stop asking questions," MJ jokes half-heartedly. "You're really harshing my 'woman of mystery' vibe."

"Ugh," Rose groans, sliding down off the wall. "Every conversation with you, Doctor, just goes mental. There's no one else besides MJ I can talk to. I've seen all that stuff up there, the size of it, and I can't say a word. Aliens and spaceships and things...and I'm one of the only people on planet Earth who knows they exist."

A blaring like a ship's horn pierces the air. All three of them turn around to see what can only be an alien spaceship flying directly overhead. The Doctor yanks MJ off the wall by the arm and, with one large hand splayed over her back, forces her to stay crouched until the spaceship clears the rooftop. As soon as the Doctor's hand leaves her back, MJ's on her feet, running over to the railing to watch the spaceship soar over London.

Though, judging by the black smoke the ship's emitting, it won't be in the sky for much longer.

MJ leans over the railing, squinting to try and see the path the ship takes. It hits a giant clocktower — Big Ben, she presumes — then lands somewhere close by, still smoking.

Behind her, Rose and the Doctor finally rise to full height, gaping.

"Oh, that's just not fair," Rose complains as MJ jogs back over to them.

The Doctor bursts into laughter. He grabs MJ and Rose's hands in each of his own and together, the three of them sprint down the stairs of Rose's building and into the crowded streets to get as close as possible as they can to the downed spaceship. Which, uh...admittedly isn't very close at all.

"It's blocked off," the Doctor says.

And not just by anyone. By men in army uniforms. MJ scowls.

"We're miles from the center," Rose pants. She's the only one of them out of breath. "The city must be gridlocked. The whole of London must be closing down."

The Doctor is beaming like it's Christmas. "I know, I can't believe I'm here to see this. This is fantastic."

"Did you know this was going to happen?" Rose asks him.

"Nope!" he says.

"Do you recognize the ship?" MJ asks next.

"Nope!"

Rose's brow furrows. "Do you know why it crashed?"

"Nope!"

"Oh, I'm so glad we've got you," Rose says sarcastically.

"I bet you are," the Doctor says. Whether he'd missed Rose's sarcasm or is just choosing to ignore it remains to be seen. "This is what I travel for, ladies, to see history happening right in front of us."

Rose sighs. "Well, let's go and see it! Never mind the traffic. We've got the TARDIS."

"Hmm, better not," he says. "They've already got one spaceship in the middle of London. And I don't wanna shove another one on top."

"Yeah, but yours looks like a big, blue box," Rose reminds him. "No one's gonna notice."

"Yeah, isn't that the entire point of it looking like a big, blue box?" MJ chimes in, folding her arms over her chest.

"You'd be surprised," he tells them. "Emergency like this, there'll be all kinds of people watching. Trust me, the TARDIS stays where it is."

"So history's happening and we're stuck here?" Rose summarizes.

The Doctor's smile slowly fades. "Yes, we are."

"We could always do what everybody else does," she suggests. "We could watch it on TV."

Now the Doctor looks downright affronted. "Watch it on TV?"

"Do you have a better idea?" MJ asks.

*

MJ sits on the arm of the Doctor's chair as they watch the news broadcast on the crash.

"Big Ben destroyed as a UFO crash lands in Central London," the male reporter says. That seems like a bit of an exaggeration to MJ. Big Ben's still standing. It's just in need of some repairs is all. But hey, what does she know? She's just the daughter of the goddess of wisdom. "Police reinforcements are drafted in from across the country to control widespread panic, looting, and civil disturbance. A state of national emergency has been declared. Tom Hitchinson is at the scene."

"The police urge the public not to panic," Tom Hitchinson reports. "Here's the helpline number on screen right now, if you're worried about friends or family."

The Doctor changes the channel to a US news station, AMNN.

"The military are on the lookout for more spaceships," a Black female news anchor announces. "Until then, all flights in North American airspace have been grounded."

The Doctor flips back to News 24, where Hitchinson is still talking. "The Army are sending divers into the wreck of the spaceship. No one knows what they're going to find."

And back to AMNN.

"The President will address the nation live from the White House," the news anchor continues, "but the Secretary-General has asked that people watch the skies."

"I've got no choice," Mrs. Tyler says to a friend as she brings Rose a cup of tea.

"You've broken your mother's heart," the friend tells Rose.

"Either I make him welcome," Mrs. Tyler says, "or I risk never seeing you again."

"She's sobbing in my arms," the friend adds at the same time. "I cradled her like a child!"

"Oi! I'm trying to listen!" the Doctor complains.

"And we can go to Tom at the Embankment," News 24 says.

"They've found a body," Mr. Tom Hitchinson tells the world. "It's unconfirmed, but I'm being told a body has been found in the wreckage. A body of non-terrestrial origins. It's being brought ashore."

More and more people flood the Tylers' apartment. MJ gets introduced to everyone, while the Doctor is very pointedly left out. He doesn't seem to care very much. His focus is entirely on the news, leaving MJ to play nice with every person from the Estate who comes over to talk to her.

"A body of some sort has been found inside the wreckage of a spacecraft," Hitchinson says as Mrs. Tyler passes out booze. She'd asked MJ if she wanted any. Apparently, MJ is the legal drinking age in the UK. MJ had very politely said no. 

Under Mrs. Tyler's gossiping, MJ strains to hear Hitchinson's reporting. "Unconfirmed reports say the body is of extra-terrestrial origin. An extraordinary event unfolding here live in Central London. The body is being transferred to a secure unit mortuary. The whereabouts as yet unknown. The roads in Central—"

The channel changes abruptly to some baking show. Someone's toddler has ended up on the Doctor's lap and is wrestling for the remote. MJ's big sister instinct kicks in.

"Hey, little guy," she says sweetly, getting the toddler's attention. "Hi, sweetheart. C'mere."

MJ transfers him onto her lap and tickles his tummy until the Doctor can snatch the remote back. She absentmindedly bounces him on her knees as she returns her attention to the news.

"Albion Hospital," Hitchinson announces. "We still don't know if it's alive or dead. Whitehall is denying everything. But the body has been brought here. Albion Hospital. With the roads closed off, it's the closest to the river."

The toddler is playing with MJ's camp necklace. MJ gently extracts it from his pudgy fist before he can stick it in his mouth. "No, no, honey. Not for eating."

"I'm being told that's General Asquith now entering the hospital," Hitchinson says. The camera pans to show police vehicles going into the parking lot, then to an older white man in an army uniform who must be General Asquith. "The building's evacuated, patients moved out onto the streets. The police still won't confirm the presence of an alien body contained inside those walls."

The Doctor tears his eyes away from the screen long enough to see MJ trying to teach the toddler how to play Miss Mary Mack.

"Who's kid is that?" the Doctor asks.

"I have no idea!" MJ says in her baby voice, bouncing the kid. "Do I? No, I don't!"

The toddler giggles and tries to grab her hair.

"You like kids?" the Doctor asks next.

"I'm a big sister," she reminds him. "It's a pre-requisite. Don't usually deal with kids this young, though. Kind of flying by the seat of my pants."

The Doctor holds out his hands. "May I?"

She nods, and he gently removes the toddler from her lap.

"Mystery still surrounds the whereabouts of the Prime Minister," a white man who is not Tom Hitchinson reports from outside 10 Downing Street. "He's not been seen since the emergency began. The opposition are criticizing his lack of leadership...Hold on." A car pulls up and a large man exits. "Oh, that's Joseph Green, MP for Hartley Dale. He's chairman of the parliamentary commission on the monitoring of sugar standards in exported confectionary. With respect, hardly the most important person right now."

MJ twists her lips. "Hey, Doc? Who gets put in charge if they can't find the Prime Minister?"

"Power goes to the Cabinet," the Doctor says offhandedly.

"And if the Cabinet's not around?"

"Dunno, sorry," he says.

MJ props her elbows up on her knees and rests her chin in the palm of her hands. "And uh, how long do you plan to sit around here watching the news when we know the supposed pilot of that crashed spaceship is at Albion Hospital?"

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "I'm fine right where I am."

"Really?"

The Doctor nods.

MJ leans over and whispers, "Then why is your knee bouncing like that?"

The Doctor looks down at his left knee, which has been bouncing wildly ever since she took the kid from his lap, then back at MJ. He grins sheepishly. "Maybe we should just take a peek."

"Just a peek," MJ agrees, getting to her feet. She offers him her hand. He hesitates in taking it, and she tries not to let the hurt show on her face. Instead, she smiles. "C'mon. Let's get out of here before that creepy guy in the corner gets the courage to actually say something to me."

The Doctor secretly looks at the creepy guy in question — some white dude in his twenties who's been glancing MJ's way ever since he entered the apartment. From the way everyone else seems to be steering clear of him, she wonders if he was even invited or if he just let himself in. The Doctor's eyes narrow at the sight of him.

"Should I tell him you keep a hunting knife on you at all times?" the Doctor asks, tone forcefully cheerful as he tugs her through the crowded apartment.

"Careful," MJ warns. "He might be into that."

The Doctor scrunches up his entire face in distaste. MJ puts her shoes back on. He opens the door for her and she slips out into the cold night air. The Doctor closes the door behind him. It remains closed for about two seconds before Rose joins them outside.

"And where do you two think you're going?" Rose asks suspiciously.

"Nowhere," the Doctor lies. "It's just a bit human in there for me. History just happened, and they're talking about where they can buy dodgy top-up cards for half price."

Rose plants her hands on her hips. "And what's your excuse, MJ?"

"Too British in there for me," MJ says with a perfectly straight face.

"We're off on a wander, that's all," the Doctor says.

"Right," Rose says. "There's a spaceship on the Thames and you're just wandering."

"Nothing to do with me," the Doctor insists. "It's not an invasion. That was a genuine crash-landing. Angle of descent, color of smoke, everything. It was perfect."

"So?" Rose shrugs.

"So, maybe this is it!" he exclaims. "First contact. The day mankind officially comes into contact with an alien race. I'm not interfering 'cause you gotta handle this on your own. That's when the human race finally grows up. Just this morning you were tiny and small and made of clay. Now you can expand!" He laughs, and Rose can't help but join in. "You don't need me. Go and celebrate history. Spend some time with your mum."

Rose chews on her bottom lip for a second, then looks at MJ. "Promise you won't let him disappear?"

The Doctor frowns. He pats himself down and pulls something out of his pocket — a key on a chain. "Tell you what, TARDIS key. About time you had one." He hands it over to Rose. "We'll see you later."

He takes MJ's hand again and leads her to the stairwell. As soon as the door is shut behind them, she shakes her head at him. "You are so full of shit."

"What are you talking about?" he asks. He flashes her a teasing smile. "I'll get you a key too, no need to be jealous."

She rolls her eyes. "Not that. I meant that whole little speech you gave about not interfering when we're literally on our way to interfere."

"No, we're not," he argues. "We agreed, just a peek."

"And we were both lying," she says. "I mean, you said it yourself. That crash was perfect. Too perfect."

The Doctor tries to keep a straight face for about five seconds before he throws his head back with a groan. "Oh, way too perfect! I mean, honestly, if that crash wasn't staged, I'm Mother Teresa."

MJ purses her lips. "So, the question becomes, why stage a super public crashlanding? What's the benefit of putting the entire world on red alert?"

"Mauve alert," he corrects.

"What?"

"Universally, mauve alert means danger," the Doctor says. "Not red alert."

"Why mauve?" she asks.

"I don't know, I didn't pick it," he scoffs.

MJ hears the hollering before they exit the stairwell. Rose's neighbors are celebrating the human race's supposed first contact with alien life with lots of booze and loud music. They even have banners hanging over the side of their balconies with messages like "WELCOME TO OUR WORLD" and "THE ALIENS HAVE LANDED" scribbled in what might be markers or spray paint.

A woman rattles the "THE ALIENS HAVE LANDED" banner and hollers at the Doctor, "Oi, gorgeous, come back and join the party!"

"I think you're getting catcalled," MJ teases him. She nudges him. "Hey, do you think she'd be more or less interested in you if she knew you're an alien? I'm thinking more, personally. Then you'd be on theme."

"I can and will leave you here," he threatens, but there's a distinct lack of heat behind it. His cheeks are bright red.

Her face lights up. "Oh my gods. Are you blushing?"

"Shut up," he grumbles. The tips of his ears match his burning cheeks.

MJ squeals. "Oh my gods, you totally are! You're blushing! Do you think she's cute? Do you want to go back and talk to her? I can go check out the alien pilot by myself if you want to stay here."

"You're not funny, you know," the Doctor says as he unlocks the TARDIS.

She grins cheekily, leaning against the corner of the box with her hands in her cardigan pockets. "Because I'm hilarious?"

The Doctor rolls his eyes and holds the door open for her. "More like insufferable."

"Oh, please," MJ scoffs, making a beeline for the console. "You love having me around."

She expects a witty comment or a full-out denial, but the Doctor cracks a grin. "Yeah, I do. Now..." He starts whirling around the console, pulling levers and turning cranks. "Let's go see this pilot, shall we?"

"I think we shall," she quips.

The Doctor flips a switch and then, they're off.

*

"Now, I'm no expert," MJ says from her cross-legged perch on the jumpseat, "but I don't think she's supposed to be making that noise."

"Yes, very helpful, thank you," the Doctor snaps.

The TARDIS doesn't seem eager to make the trip to Albion Hospital. Her console crackles and she's making noises MJ hasn't heard before. The Doctor takes a mallet to the console and that seems to sort things out. The Doctor kisses the mallet head.

MJ grimaces. "Did you just kiss that?"

"No need to be judgemental," he says with a warm smile.

"Oh, but it's so fun," she deadpans.

The Doctor bounds over to the door. "Here we are." He opens the door to a cart loaded with boxes and random pieces of equipment. He shoots MJ a look over his shoulder. "Before you say anything, yes, there's room to get around it."

MJ rolls her eyes fondly. "C'mon, then."

The Doctor has to use his sonic screwdriver on the door lock to get them out of the storage room. For his sake, MJ kindly ignores him trying to shush his sonic. The Doctor opens the door to a room full of men in army uniforms with red berets. For a second, they all just stare at each other. Then the men snap out of their shock and grab their guns, light attachments shining on the Doctor's and MJ's faces. While the Doctor attempts a friendly smile, MJ scowls and crosses her arms over her chest.

"If one of you kills me, I will haunt your ass forever," she warns them.

A blood-curdling scream pierces the air.

"Defense plan Delta!" the Doctor shouts, pushing through the men. "Come on, move! Move!"

MJ grins. Move? Yeah, she can do that. She sprints in front of the men, ignoring the Doctor's yells for her to slow down. MJ has no idea what she's running toward, but she does know one thing — a bunch of assholes with guns tend to only make a situation worse.

She bursts into the mortuary. Her eyes sweep the scene and land on an Asian woman cowering by a desk. Blood leaks from a cut on her forehead.

"It's alive," the woman gasps.

MJ crouches beside her, digging in her left cardigan for her first aid kit. "Where'd it go?"

"I-I don't know," the woman says.

MJ opens the first aid kit and sets to work on cleaning the woman's cut. "My name's MJ. What's yours?"

Before the woman can answer, the doors fly open. The Doctor and his military entourage spill into the mortuary.

"Pilot's still alive," MJ reports, dabbing at the woman's cut.

"Spread out, tell the perimeter it's a lockdown," the Doctor orders. He kneels next to MJ. When he sees the men haven't moved, he barks, "Do it!"

To MJ's surprise, they listen.

MJ turns her attention back to the woman. "Hey, talk to me. I'm MJ. This is my friend, the Doctor. What's your name?"

The woman takes a deep breath, then says, "Dr. Sato. Toshiko Sato." She looks at the Doctor, eyes wide and wild. "I swear it was dead."

"Coma, shock, hibernation, anything," the Doctor says. "What does it look like?"

From the corner of the room comes a metallic clank.

"It's still here," the Doctor realizes.

MJ drops the disinfectant wipe she was using on Dr. Sato's wound. She shoots the Doctor a stern look. "Stay with her. I'll go look."

"No, you stay," he says. "I'll go look."

"No, I'll go look," she insists. The familiar sensation settles over her, and she knows. "There's no point in you going. It's not even an alien."

MJ rises to full height and walks as silently as she can over to the corner. More clattering. MJ listens closely, dropping to her hands and knees to crawl around the desk. She spots the "alien" and her heart breaks a little. It's a pig in a spacesuit. It grunts nervously.

She reaches into her pocket. "Hey, buddy. No need to be so nervous. I think I might have something you'll like." She pulls out a perfectly red apple, rubs it on her cardigan, and rolls it across the floor to the pig. She shifts to sit cross-legged. "There you go, buddy. I don't know about you, but food always makes me feel better."

The pig sniffs the apple and then picks it up in its mouth. The apple is gone in a mere few bites. MJ watches it vanish with thinly veiled jealousy. Gods, she's hungry. She hasn't eaten since breakfast, and of course, she'd completely forgotten about the apple she grabbed earlier until now when she'd chosen to give it to a pig.

"Better?" MJ asks. The pig snorts. She smiles softly and inches a little closer. She wishes Grover were here. He'd be able to calm this pig down with no trouble.

"MJ?" The Doctor crawls up to sit beside her. He too smiles at the pig. "Hello."

He's quiet and perfectly nonthreatening, but the pig startles and takes off. MJ's eyes narrow at the way it stands and runs on two legs. Who would do this to some poor, innocent creature? What's the point of modifying a pig in such a horrific manner?

The Doctor chases after the pig, yelling for the soldiers not to shoot. MJ doesn't follow. She knows how that'll end — not in the way she knew the pig wasn't an alien, but in the way she knows 2+2=4 and throwing a glass at a wall will make it shatter. It's just common sense. The Doctor will try, but some idiotic soldier will kill that pig for no good reason, and MJ doesn't want to watch it happen.

Instead, MJ helps Dr. Sato to her feet.

"How's your head?" MJ asks.

Both women flinch at the crack of a gunshot. The soldier goes running in the direction the Doctor left.

"It's fine," Dr. Sato says after an awkward pause. The Doctor must've finished patching her up because she has a bandaid smoothed over her cut. "Just a bit of a headache."

"If you have any water, I have some ibuprofen in my first aid kit," MJ offers, stooping down to grab said kit off the floor.

"No, it's alright," Dr. Sato says. She picks up her clipboard. "Is...that really wasn't an alien?"

MJ shakes her head. "Just a pig. Just an ordinary pig."

The Doctor returns, carrying the pig's body in his arms. He looks devastated. "I couldn't..."

"One of my biggest problems with men with guns," MJ says, taking the pig from his arms and laying it down on the examination table, "is their hard-on for using them."

Dr. Sato clutches her clipboard to her chest. "I just assumed that's what aliens looked like. But you're saying it's an ordinary pig, from Earth."

"More like a mermaid," the Doctor says. He has arms folded across his chest. He hovers at MJ's side, anger written in the lines of his face. "Victorian showmen used to draw the crowds by taking the skull of a cat, gluing it to a fish, and calling it a mermaid. Now someone's taken a pig, opened up its brain, stuck bits on, then they've strapped it in that ship, made it dive-bomb. It must've been terrified. They've taken this animal and turned it into a joke."

"So it's a fake, a pretend, like the mermaid," Dr. Sato says. "But the technology augmenting its brain, it's like nothing on Earth. It's alien. Aliens are faking aliens."

The Doctor tries to leave, but MJ grabs his arm and keeps him in place.

"Why would they do that?" Dr. Sato asks, turning to face the Doctor and MJ.

"We don't know," MJ says, "but we're going to find out. For now, Dr. Sato, I'd recommend keeping this information to yourself. Between this and no one being able to find the Prime Minister...I think it's probably safer if you don't go advertising we've discovered the real aliens' secret, you know what I mean?"

Dr. Sato nods. "I understand."

MJ pulls out her phone and holds it out to her. "Here, put your contact in. I'll keep you updated."

"Thank you," Dr. Sato says with an almost shy smile. She puts her number in, then passes the phone back.

"We should get going," MJ says. One hand still holding the Doctor in place, she shoots off a message to Dr. Sato's phone. "I'm sending you a quick text so you have my number. Let us know if anyone comes for the body, yeah?"

"Of course, but..." Dr. Sato eyes them curiously. "Who are you two?"

"Friends," the Doctor says.

"Friends," she echoes a bit incredulously. "Friends."

She turns her back on them and the Doctor shoots MJ a pleading look. MJ rolls her eyes but follows him out of the mortuary. They're already back in the TARDIS, ship in flight when MJ's phone beeps.

Dr. Sato: Good luck.

Thanks. We're probably going to need it.

"Texting your new best friend?" the Doctor teases.

"It's rude to just vanish on people, you know," MJ says, leaning against the console.

"We've got things to do," he says. "No time for chitchatting."

MJ raises her eyebrows at him. "Says the man with the literal time machine." He just shrugs with a stupid little grin on his face. As soon as the ship's landed back at Powell Estate, MJ pulls up Rose's contact on her phone. "Let me text Rose and tell her to meet us outside."

A split second later, the door opens and Rose slips inside.

"Wow," the Doctor says, visibly impressed. "You're a really fast texter."

"Or she was waiting outside, dumbass," MJ says, showing him the empty text box.

"Ah." The Doctor smiles sheepishly. Rose runs up the ramp to his side and he immediately starts talking a mile a minute. "Alright, so we lied. We went and had a look. But the whole crash landing's a fake. I thought so. Just too perfect. I mean, hitting Big Ben? Come on."

MJ feels eyes on her and turns around to see Mrs. Tyler standing in the doorway of the TARDIS. She has the same expression people in horror movies get when they stumble upon a gruesome scene. Uh oh. Standing in front of her is a young Black man MJ's never seen before. He looks less horrified and more astonished. The proper reaction, she'd say, upon seeing the interior of the TARDIS for the first time.

MJ taps the Doctor on the shoulder, but he ignores her, too busy telling Rose, "So we thought, 'Let's go and have a look...'"

"My mum's here," Rose interrupts.

The Doctor finally turns around to see the guy and Mrs. Tyler on the ramp. He scowls and turns back to Rose. "Oh, that's just what I need. Don't you dare make this place domestic!"

"You ruined my life, Doctor," the Black guy says, jabbing his finger at the Doctor accusatorily. "They thought she was dead. I was a murder suspect because of you."

The Doctor's not impressed or even remotely apologetic. "See what I mean? Domestic!"

"I bet you don't even remember my name!" the Black guy says.

"Ricky," the Doctor says.

"It's Mickey," the Black guy corrects.

"No, it's Ricky," the Doctor argues.

"I think I know my own name," Mickey scoffs.

"You think you know your own name? How stupid are you? Ow!" The Doctor whirls around to shoot MJ a dirty look as she lowers her hand, fresh from flicking the Doctor on the temple. "What was that for?"

Mrs. Tyler runs out.

"Mum!" Rose calls after her. Before she follows, she leaves them all with instructions. For the Doctor, it's "Don't go anywhere." For Mickey, it's "Don't start a fight." And for MJ, it's, "If you have to, put 'em both in time out."

MJ salutes Rose, and then the blonde is out the door.

"You got this poor man accused of murder and not only do you not apologize, but now you're insulting him?" MJ snaps at him. "You know, for someone who claims to be so 'evolved,' you have the manners and maturity of a thirteen-year-old boy."

The door opens and Rose comes running back in, much sooner than MJ personally expected. "That was a real spaceship."

"One sec, Rose," MJ says. She folds her arms over her chest and stares the Doctor down. "No more adventuring until you apologize to Mickey."

The Doctor scoffs. "Oh yeah? And how do you plan on stopping me?"

MJ grins, pulling his sonic screwdriver from his pocket. "Awfully hard to stop an alien plot without this, don't you think?"

The Doctor's jaw drops. "How—when—give that back!" 

He makes a grab for the sonic, but unfortunately for him, MJ's not above playing dirty. She darts back out of his reach, then shoves his sonic in her bra. 

The Doctor gapes at her, horrified. "MJ!"

"Apologize," she orders.

"But—"

"Apologize or you're never getting your sonic back," she threatens him.

"I'll just get a new one," he retorts.

MJ tilts her head. "Oh yeah? From where?"

"The TARDIS," the Doctor says smugly. "She'll make me a new one."

"No, she won't because she's on my side," MJ says. She pats the console like one might a horse. "Right, astéri mou?"

The TARDIS hums in agreement, lights brightening at the nickname.

"Astéri mou?" Rose echoes. "What's that mean?"

"It's Greek," the Doctor explains with a pout. "It means 'my star.' Are you sweet-talking my ship?"

"The way you say sweet-talking implies dishonesty so no, I'm not sweet-talking your ship," MJ says. "I'm befriending her. Maybe seducing her a little. Are you going to apologize to Mickey or not?"

"Yeah, are you going to apologize to me or not?" Mickey demands. He falters and looks at MJ. "Sorry, who are you?"

"MJ Winslow, I'm a friend of Rose," MJ says, holding her hand out. "Human, not alien. Probably why I'm so much more tolerable than he is."

Mickey shakes it heartily and looks at Rose. "Her, I like."

"Fine!" the Doctor groans. "Ricky—" Rose and MJ simultaneously whack him on either arm. "Ow!" Through gritted teeth, he starts over. "Mickey, I apologize for accidentally getting you accused of Rose's nonexistent murder, and for calling you an idiot. I recognize it's rude to call people idiots, even if they are ones. Please accept my apology so I may resume saving the world."

"I do not accept your apology," Mickey says firmly.

"Oh, come on," the Doctor whines.

MJ shakes her head. "That was the most insincere apology I've heard in a while. But it was an apology, so..." She pulls his sonic screwdriver out of her bra, lathers it in eucalyptus-scented hand sanitizer, and hands it back over. "As you were."

"Thank you," the Doctor says, drying the sonic off on his sweater. "As I was about to say, yes, Rose, that was a real spaceship."

"So it was all a pack of lies?" Rose furrows her brow. "What is it, then? That they're invading?"

"Funny way to invade, putting the world on red alert," Mickey says, peering over the Doctor's shoulder.

"Good point!" the Doctor praises. "So, what're they up to?"

MJ leans on the Doctor, staring at the footage of the downed ship on the screen. "The way I see it, there are a few options. One, the fake crashlanding is just a distraction from whatever real plot's in the works. Two, the real aliens want everyone on red alert because they're looking for something or someone, and what better way to get everyone looking for aliens than to dangle a 'real' one right in their faces? Three, the real aliens benefit in some other way from having all of the human race on edge, though I can't see how. I mean, that's a dangerous game to play. When humans get scared, they lash out. They attack. Unless the real aliens want the humans to attack, but why would they want that? What's the benefit of putting the human race at war with a fake threat?"

She straightens up, eyes brightening. "Because even if the threat's fake, the weapons are real. And if it's aliens, any old weapon won't do. They'll hit as hard as possible. They'll go nuclear. Doctor, is there a possible benefit for aliens to the Earth being ravaged by nuclear warfare?"

The Doctor stares at MJ. "Well, yeah, I guess. They could use the Earth as some kind of fuel, I s'pose. How the bloody hell did you just come up with all that off the top of your head?"

"I'm just speculating," she says matter-of-factly with a nonchalant shrug. "Besides, I thought we'd established by now that I'm a genius. Have we not established that?"

The Doctor's shocked expression gives way to sparkling eyes and a brilliant grin. "Well, if we didn't before, we certainly have now."

MJ smirks. "Damn fucking straight."

*

While MJ sits on the pilot seat, embroidery hoop in one hand and a needle threaded with blue in the other, Mickey circles the console, inspecting the controls with a mechanic's eyes. The Doctor's below the grated floor again in the maintenance area. Rose's hanging by the console.

"So what are you doing down there?" Mickey asks.

The Doctor's voice is muffled around his sonic screwdriver. "Ricky—"

"Mickey," Mickey and MJ correct simultaneously.

"Ricky," the Doctor insists, taking his sonic out of his mouth. "If I was to tell you what I was doing to the controls of my frankly magnificent timeship, would you even begin to understand?"

Mickey frowns. "I suppose not."

"Well, shut it, then," the Doctor snaps with a fake cheery smile. Then he sticks his sonic back in his mouth.

Mickey walks over to Rose, dejected. MJ gets up from the pilot seat, abandoning her project on the chair, and lays on her stomach on the grated floor.

"You are such a fucking asshole sometimes, you know that?" MJ hisses at the Doctor.

The Doctor looks at her with wide eyes. "What I'd do?"

"You're kidding, right?" she asks. When his expression doesn't change, she reaches into the hatch to whack him on the arm. "Just now, you dickhead, with Mickey! He asked you a perfectly good question and you gave him the snottiest answer you could manage."

"Oh, that." He returns his focus to his work. "No, I definitely could've been snottier."

"I don't like the way you treat him," MJ says. "Like you value him less than the gunk between your toes. Why are you so mean to him, anyway? You're not jealous 'cause he's Rose's boyfriend, are you?"

"First of all," the Doctor says, "I don't have gunk between my toes, thank you very much. And second of all, no, I'm not jealous. Why would I be jealous he's dating Rose?"

She shrugs, kicking her feet absentmindedly. "I mean, she's very pretty. And kind."

"So are you," he says.

MJ freezes. "What?"

Electricity crackles and the Doctor lets out a triumphant laugh. "Got it!" He clambers out of the hatch and MJ follows him to the console's monitor. "Patched in the radar, looped it back 12 hours so it'll follow the flight of that spaceship. Here we go." Nothing happens. "Hold on." The Doctor bangs on the monitor. "Come on!"

"Must you keep hitting her?" MJ questions, petting the rim of the console.

"Must you keep hitting me?" he counters. A beeping fills the air as the simulation starts. "That's the spaceship on its way to Earth. See? Except...Hold on. See, the spaceship did a slingshot 'round the Earth before it landed."

"What does that mean?" Rose asks.

"It means the ship came from Earth," MJ explains.

The Doctor nods. "It went up and came back down. Whoever those aliens are, they haven't just arrived. They've been here for a while. Question is, what've they been doing?"

"Better question," she says. "How've they been doing it? I mean, sure, some aliens can pass as human—"

"Like him," Mickey chimes in, glaring daggers at the Doctor.

"Exactly," she agrees. "But some aliens are, as Rose so eloquently put it, 'so alien.' They'd never blend in. And if my hunch is right and these aliens have something to do with the Prime Minister vanishing, then they're most likely not operating from the shadows, so somehow, they're passing as human. How and, maybe more importantly, who? Are they pretending to be someone in particular? Maybe whoever gets put in charge if the Prime Minister and the Cabinet are indisposed?"

"See, this is why I love having you around," the Doctor says. "Absolutely brilliant, you are."

She eyes him warily. "If you're sucking up so I don't steal your sonic again, I should warn you, flattery will only get you so far."

The Doctor raises his eyebrows. "But it will get me somewhere, yeah?"

"Well, of course," she says. "What self-respecting genius doesn't like having their intelligence properly recognized?"

"You know, for someone with such a large vocabulary, it doesn't seem like humility is anywhere in there," Rose teases.

"I'm perfectly humble," MJ protests. "I know my weaknesses as well as my strengths. My strengths just happen to be more obvious and noteworthy."

Mickey comes to stand behind Rose. "So, the ship came from Earth? What now?"

"Now, we check the news," the Doctor says.

The screen glitches before switching to a news station. The Doctor flips through a few different channels, never landing on one for longer than a second or two before settling on one.

"How many channels you get?" Mickey asks.

"All the basic packages," the Doctor answers, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You get sports channels?" Mickey presses.

"Yes, I get the football," the Doctor says with an eye roll. He points at the screen, brow furrowing. "Hey, I know that lot."

"...but it's looking likely that the government's bringing in alien specialists," a female reporter is saying as a group of men and women in military uniforms march through, "those people who've devoted their lives to studying outer space."

"UNIT!" the Doctor exclaims, pausing the broadcast. "United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. Good people."

Rose frowns. "How do you know them?"

"'Cause he's worked for them," Mickey reveals. "Oh, yeah. Don't think I sat on my backside for twelve months, Doctor. I read up on you! You look deep enough on the Internet or in the history books, and there's his name. Followed by a list of the dead."

"That's nice. Good boy, Ricky," the Doctor mocks.

"If you know them, why don't you go and help?" Rose asks.

"They wouldn't recognize me," the Doctor says, turning off the screen. "I've changed a lot since the old days. Besides, the world's on a knife edge. There's aliens out there and fake aliens. We want to keep this alien out of the mix. I'm going undercover."

MJ leans against Rose. "Oh, there's no way this ends well."

The two girls share amused grins.

If the Doctor hears MJ's jibe, he ignores her. "And, uh, better keep the TARDIS out of sight. Ricky!" He pats Mickey on the shoulder. "You've got a car. You can do some driving."

The Doctor makes for the door, MJ and Rose on his heels.

"Where to?" Mickey questions.

"The roads are clearing," the Doctor says, opening the door. "Let's go and have a look at that spaceship."

MJ hears the whirring of helicopter blades and freezes so fast that Rose crashes into her. Seconds later, a glaring spotlight sweeps over MJ and her friends. Immediately, MJ's heart leaps into her throat.

"Do not move!" some unseen man yells at them over a megaphone. "Step away from the box! Raise your hands above your head!"

As he barks orders, police cars and armored vehicles roll up on the TARDIS, lights flashing and sirens wailing. MJ raises her hands above her head and glances at the TARDIS. Mickey hadn't closed the door all the way behind him. If she moves quickly, she could slip inside, lock the door behind her, and wait out whatever the fuck is going on in the safety of the blue box. Then she wouldn't have to worry about some overzealous cop or soldier shooting her for looking at them the wrong way.

Gods, there are so many men with guns. They even have dogs with them. Mickey takes off running and some of the army guys chase after him. Wait. If they're chasing and not shooting...well, that leads her to believe that maybe these bastards want her and her friends alive. This looks like an arrest, but maybe it's not. Maybe it's a recruitment.

Jackie emerges from the stairwell, shouting her daughter's name, but two soldiers jump up to hold her back. MJ's not even sure if Rose heard her mother over all of the noise.

"Raise your hands above your head!" the man in the helicopter yells again. "You are under arrest!"

Okay, never mind.

The Doctor raises his hands finally, grinning. "Take me to your leader!"

*

MJ's confusion only grows when she, Rose, and the Doctor get forced into the back of a black town car. Not one of the many police cars that have pulled up on Powell Estate, but a town car. MJ would like to think that means she's not in any more danger than she was before the cops and the army showed up, but logic doesn't seem to matter much at the moment. All MJ can think about is the millions of people who look like her who've been killed for no real reason other than the color of their skin by people like the men who have her and her friends in their custody.

She casts her eyes upward. Fates, I swear to all that is divine, if you make some piece of shit law enforcement bastard the end of me, I will haunt all three of you until the last star in the universe burns out.

"This is a bit posh," Rose comments. "If I knew it was gonna be like this, being arrested, I would've done it years ago."

"We're not being arrested, we're being escorted," the Doctor corrects.

"Where to?" Rose asks.

"Where do you think?" The Doctor is enjoying this far too much for MJ's liking. "Downing Street."

Then he laughs.

"You're kidding," Rose says.

"I'm not!" the Doctor cackles.

Rose's brow knits together. "10 Downing Street?"

"That's the one!" he confirms giddily.

"Oh my god!" Rose giggles. "I'm going to 10 Downing Street?" She grabs MJ's arm (because of course MJ got stuck in the middle seat, the worst seat in the entire car) and shakes her lightly. "MJ, we're going to 10 Downing Street! That's like going to the White House for Americans!"

MJ says nothing, just stares ahead with a blank expression. Just fucking fantastic. First cops and soldiers and now politicians? Mickey had the right idea. She should've run while she had the chance.

After a few seconds of no response from MJ, Rose clears her throat and returns her attention to the Doctor. "How come?"

"I hate to say it, but Mickey was right," the Doctor tells her. "Over the years, I've visited this planet a lot of times, and I've been, uh, noticed."

"Now they need you," Rose realizes.

"Like it said on the news, they're gathering experts in alien knowledge," he says. "And who's the biggest expert of the lot?"

Rose looks at him blankly. "Patrick Moore?"

"Apart from him," the Doctor says.

Rose smirks, eyes glittering. "Oh, don't you just love it."

"Oh, I'm telling you, Lloyd George, oh, he used to drink me under the table," he reminisces. MJ has no idea who Lloyd George is and decides it's not worth asking. "Who's the Prime Minister now?"

"How should I know?" Rose scoffs. "I missed a year."

The Doctor glances at MJ and nudges her lightly. "You okay? You kind of look like you want to fling yourself into traffic."

"Oh, that could be fun," MJ sighs.

Rose frowns. "What's wrong?"

MJ rubs her face tiredly. "I don't like being held at gunpoint, I don't like the police or their obnoxious sirens, I don't like the army, and I don't like politicians."

"Bit of an anarchist, are you?" the Doctor teases.

"If being anti-all forms of oppression and the systems that uphold them makes me an anarchist then pass me a fucking Molotov, Doc, and get ready to run," she says.

To her surprise, he grins. "Oh, I'm always ready to run."

Rose glances at the army guy behind the wheel then leans in, lowering her voice. "Have you ever actually thrown a Molotov cocktail?"

"No," MJ says. "But I did once steal a sledgehammer from a construction sight and wreck some hostile architecture." Rose looks at her with wide eyes and MJ smiles sheepishly. "Oh. You were asking the Doctor, weren't you?"

"I was, but now I want to hear more about this sledgehammer thing," Rose laughs. "What's hostile architecture?"

"Things like anti-homeless spikes, bars on park benches, street dividers, bright lighting in subway alcoves," MJ lists. "Basically anything that makes life harder for homeless people."

Rose gapes. "What? That's so cruel. So what'd you wreck?"

"So, when the temp drops, sometimes homeless people will huddle around grates for warmth," MJ explains. "And so some assholes will put up fences around the grates because they hate the homeless and want them to suffer. Unfortunately for those assholes, their fences aren't immune to sledgehammers."

MJ lets out a wistful sigh. She misses that sledgehammer. She lost it during the Halycon Green incident and never ended up getting a replacement.

"How old were you?" Rose whispers, gaze darting to the soldier again.

"Eleven."

Both the Doctor and Rose do double-takes.

"Eleven?" Rose echoes incredulously. "Eleven years old? You were eleven years old wielding a bloody sledgehammer?" MJ nods and Rose's entire face lights up. "Oh my god. I think you might be the coolest person I've ever met in my life."

"Definitely the coolest person I've ever met in mine," the Doctor says.

"You guys need to get out more," MJ tells them, but she says it with a very pleased smile on her face. She can't help but feel smug that she's even cooler than they think she is. After all, neither of them knows she's a demigod yet.

She'll tell them one day. Once this all feels a little less temporary.

When their car finally rolls to a stop outside 10 Downing Street, MJ takes a deep breath. She can do this. She can temporarily coexist peacefully with politicians. She can keep her snide comments to herself and not tell everyone in that building how idiotic she thinks they are. She can...oh, who is she kidding? Today is definitely going to end with her banned from 10 Downing Street.

MJ, Rose, and the Doctor's exit from the towncar is met with camera flashes and reporters yelling. The Doctor waves to the reporters with a stupid smile on his face, and some wave back. MJ rolls her eyes and ducks her head. The last thing she needs is someone getting a picture of her in London when she's supposed to be in Long Island. Not that the odds of someone from her school or CHB seeing such a picture are particularly high, but it's simply not a risk worth taking.

Once he's done smiling for the cameras, the Doctor comes around the car to the sidewalk. He takes MJ's hand and leads her into the building, an astonished Rose trailing behind. The three of them are directed into a foyer where politicians, soldiers, and supposed alien experts stand around waiting for...something. MJ has no idea what exactly, but they definitely seem to be waiting for something. As they wait, they mingle.

MJ does not mingle. Anyone who does glance her way gets a scowl in return.

"Ladies and gentlemen, can we convene?" a young Indian man in a suit calls out as he enters the room. "Quick as we can, please. It's this way on the right and can I remind you ID cards are to be worn at all times?" He approaches the Doctor, ID card in hand. "Here's your ID card. I'm sorry, your companions don't have clearance."

MJ squints at his ID. The font is tiny and not at all dyslexia-friendly. She makes out the name Indra Ganesh before she has to avert her eyes to try and quash her budding headache.

"I don't go anywhere without them," the Doctor says, putting his ID card around his neck.

"You're the Code Nine, not them," Ganesh says. "I'm sorry, Doctor. It's, uh, Doctor, isn't it? They'll have to stay outside."

A middle-aged white woman with brown hair pauses behind Ganesh, eyes trained on the Doctor. Though her face is mostly impassive, there's a franticness in her eyes that makes MJ stand up straighter. Neither man seems to notice her.

"They're staying with me," the Doctor argues. He's still holding MJ's hand, and he gives it a light squeeze.

"Look, even I don't have clearance to go in there," Ganesh says. "I can't let them in and that's a fact."

"That's alright," Rose chimes in. "You go."

"Excuse me," the white woman says, the desperation in her eyes seeping into the rest of her expression. "Are you the Doctor?"

The Doctor ignores her to check in with Rose, and Ganesh glowers at the woman. "Not now. We're busy. Can't you go home?"

"I just need a word in private," the woman insists.

"You haven't got clearance," Ganesh says. "Now leave it!"

The Doctor lets go of MJ's hand and vanishes around the same corner as the others. She hardly notices, to be perfectly honest. Her focus is entirely on the woman who's wearing a baby pink blazer with a long black skirt by the way, which MJ can't help but admire. Pink is her favorite color.

MJ tilts her head. "No need to be rude, Ganesh. Ma'am, Rose and I may not be the Doctor, but if you have a question, we might be able to answer it for you."

Both the woman and Ganesh do double-takes at her American accent.

"That'd be lovely, thank you," the woman says. Ganesh hesitates, looking more than ready to protest, and she waves him off. "These girls need supervision anyway. Let me be of some use."

Ganesh nods and the woman leads Rose and MJ around the same corner as everyone else, but to the left rather than the right.

"Walk with me. Just keep walking," she says with a tight-lipped smile. She flashes them her ID. "Harriet Jones. MP, Flydale North."

"MP?" MJ echoes curiously.

"Member of Parliament," Rose explains.

"This friend of yours," Harriet says as they come to a stop by an ornate staircase, "he's an expert, is that right? He knows about aliens?"

Rose eyes her warily. "Why do you want to know?"

Harriet begins to sob. She buries her face in her hands. Rose and MJ exchange awkward looks, then step forward to comfort her the best two teenagers can comfort a middle-aged woman they've never met before in their lives — Rose puts an arm around Harriet's shoulders and rubs gently while MJ takes Harriet's weathered hands in hers.

"Hey, look at me," MJ says softly. When Harriet makes eye contact with MJ, MJ squeezes her hands. "Let's take some deep breaths, yeah?" Harriet nods and MJ smiles. "Okay, just do what I do, okay? Breathe in, one, two, three, breathe out, one, two, three."

They repeat the exercise until Harriet calms down long enough to ask the girls to follow her upstairs. She leads them to the cabinet room, opens a closet, and pulls out a...oh my gods. Is that what MJ thinks it is?

It looks like rubber, but it's not. It's a skin suit. It's a human body reduced to a skin suit, complete with a zipper around the forehead. MJ's stomach churns. Oh, this is so fucked.

"They turn the body into a suit, a disguise for the thing inside!" Harriet explains, the words rushing out of her so fast they run together a little bit. She covers her mouth with her hands again, once again on the verge of tears.

"It's alright, we believe you," Rose assures her, taking Harriet's arm in her hands. "It's...it's alien." Rose breaks away, searching the room for something that might give them some answers. "They must have some serious technology behind this. If we could find it, we could use it."

She opens a cupboard and a body falls out.

"Oh my god!" she gasps as MJ and Harriet hurry over to inspect the body. "Is that the..."

"Harriet, for God's sake!" Ganesh exclaims, storming through the open door. "This has gone beyond a joke. You cannot just wander—" He cuts himself off at the sight of the body on the floor. "Oh my god. That's the Prime Minister."

MJ shakes her head. "I knew it. I fucking knew it."

"Knew what?" Ganesh demands.

"We need to get downstairs and evacuate the experts," MJ says. "Whoever's the acting prime minister is behind this."

Ganesh furrows his brow. "Green? Joseph Green?"

"MP for Hartley Dale," MJ recalls.

They'd mentioned him on the news hours ago. 'Hardly the most important person right now,' the white male reporter who is not Tom Hitchinson had said. Gods, MJ should've seen it right there and then. Why else would some random politician arrive at 10 Downing Street when the Prime Minister's missing and the Cabinet's out of town if not to temporarily assume command? It was so obvious. Shame courses through her. 

Her mother would be so disappointed.

"I-I don't understand," Ganesh says. "Why would Green—"

"He wouldn't," Harriet cuts in. "But the alien using his skin as a suit would."

Ganesh's jaw drops. "What?"

"Oh," an unfamiliar feminine voice coos. A stout blonde middle-aged white woman enters the cabinet room. "Has someone been naughty?"

She closes the door behind her with a mischievous smile. MJ quickly grabs Ganesh by the arm and shoves him behind her. Harriet hadn't mentioned names, but she had mentioned there were three aliens. This woman must be one of them.

"But that's not possible," Ganesh protests, staring at the Prime Minister's corpse. "He left this afternoon. The Prime Minister left Downing Street. He was driven away!"

"And who told you that?" the woman reminds him. "Hmm?" She sets her purse down on the table. "Me!"

The woman brushes her bangs aside to reveal a zipper on her forehead. She starts to unmask. MJ glances at her allies. They're all just standing there, staring as a great big green alien with pitch-black eyes and clawed hands emerges from the skin suit. MJ rolls her eyes at the distinct lack of survival instinct.

"Get out of here!" she shouts at them, grabbing the nearest chair. She hurls it at the alien and shoves Ganesh toward the door. "Go!" MJ herds Ganesh, Harriet, and Rose toward the doors. They keep glancing back, and she grits her teeth. "Stop looking and go!"

Luckily, all three of them do the smart thing.

They listen to MJ and run.

*

if mj figuring things out before anyone else does bothers you, you might want to tap out now bc my girl is a genius and the people's princess so it will be happening again