The renegade Time Lord known as the Doctor sat at a table in a dark corner of a bar on Altos 3 and brooded on the fates of planets.

 He was a member of a notorious group, one of a handful of Time Lords who had eschewed the non-interventionist policies of their people and instead roamed at will throughout time and space. Where and whenever the Doctor showed up, things tended to become somewhat more...*interesting* than they had been before.

 At this particular moment, his fellow patrons were giving the corner where he lurked a wide berth. Dark mutterings could be heard coming from his table.

 "Dalos 3...vaporized. Hermion...over-ridden by plague. Telac 9...sterilized by Daleks... Altos 3..." He paused, frowning.

 A young man with light-brown hair and a cheerful but habitually wary demeanor entered the bar and made his way through the crowd. Soon he approached the corner where the Time Lord was ensconced.

 "What's that?"

 "Mmmm..." the Doctor replied, concentrating on the newsplastich lying on the table in front of him. "Wil, I've almost got all of it!" he exclaimed, grinning up at the newcomer.

 Wil sat down across the table and leaned forward. "Trivia Quiz: Fates of the Planets," he read aloud. "That's depressing, all these planets that have been destroyed," he commented.

 The Doctor shrugged, and turned back to the quiz. "It happens."

 Wil looked up as a sudden commotion broke out near the bar. A tall brown-haired man, wearing a pair of braided leather pants, and a shorter man with tousled fair hair and a colorful vest, were facing off against a septet of snarling beetle-browed bruisers. Wil winced with ready sympathy, then watched in astonishment as the two out-numbered men proceeded to toss their attackers about with enthusiasm. The tow-headed man rapidly threw a multitude of punches at two men at once, driving them back, while the brunet caught hold of a third, and swung him around and around, with the result that his feet knocked the rest of his compatriots over.

 "So, *this* is what people do for fun around here?" Wil dryly asked his Time Lord friend.

 "Eh?" The Doctor glanced over in the direction Wil was indicating, and peered at the two men as they skillfully sent the other brawlers flying in acrobatic fashions. "Oh, them -- they're just a couple of Greeks."

 One of the bruisers caught the blond on the chin with an upper-cut, and he stumbled wildly backwards. The Doctor and Wil flinched back in alarm as he careened straight at them and slammed down onto the table between them, sending their cups and the plastich flying. The two front legs of the table snapped, tilting the table and its occupant at a forty-five degree angle.

 Speechless, they stared at the stranger as he shook his head groggily and blinked up at them. Turning to look from one to the other, he smiled in embarrassment, glancing around at the mess he had made.

 "Ah...sorry about the table," he said appeasingly. When they said nothing in reply, he shrugged, and getting up, hurried back into the thick of the brawl.

 Wil and the Doctor stared after him, caught between amusement and shock, then looked at each other.

 "Check!" they shouted simultaneously, both waving an arm to catch the attention of one of the servers as he came into view.

 ***

 Their bill paid, the two travelers managed
to duck
between flying
tavern patrons
The Doctor grabbed Wil by his collar and hauled him out of the path of a hurtling brawler.

 "Thanks!" Wil managed, and together, they scooted under a few more flying elbows and made for the door.

 Wil glanced back one last time as they left the cantina. He had no taste for brawling, but it was fascinating to watch other people do it.

 The next instant he flinched as nearby, someone's nose caught a stray fist and blossomed into red ruin. Wil's stomach lurched, and he hurried out after the Doctor.

 Suddenly, it wasn't fascinating anymore.

 Neither he nor the Doctor noticed as a hooded fellow patron slipped out of the bar and followed them.

 ***

 Once outside, the two travelers strolled along, enjoying the cool night air.

 It was nice after the stuffy cantina. Altos 3, a former Earth colony with a moderate amount of agriculture and manufacturing, was just entering its cold season. The deciduous trees were losing their greenery, and clusters of crisp faded leaves, chased by the wind, scudded about their feet and skittered along the dimly-lit city pavement.

 Wil shivered a little. Suddenly, the wind was more chill than refreshing, and the jester-by-training pulled the olive-green wool army jacket he'd cadged from the TARDIS clothing stores more tightly around himself. He'd taken a liking to the coat, and his host hadn't made any objections; indeed hadn't seemingly noticed, so he'd kept it.

 He glanced aside at his companion. The Doctor strolled along beside him, hands stuffed into the pockets of his own dark green velvet frock coat and a pleasant but distant expression on his face.

 The Doctor was a strange one, all right. He dressed in an elegant but anachronistic style of clothing from old Earth's late nineteenth century: frock coat, trousers, waistcoat, wing-collar shirt, cravat and all, while journeying in a time-traveling vehicle so advanced compared to any technology Wil knew that it quite eluded his comprehension.

 Actually, Wil also knew about anachronisms. He'd been trained to perform in the style of the jesters of ancient Earth for the entertainment of one 'Lord Harsferd', a Paracastrian regional governor stuck out in the boondocks who lived out his fantasy of feudal grandeur at the expense of his constituency.

 Tired of being a Fool, Wil had escaped to the big city, just in time to become the TARDIS's latest passenger. It hadn't taken him long to discover that strange adventures were the norm where and *when*ever the Doctor was involved.

 Wil was by nature a cautious fellow, and he was still occasionally surprised at himself for having stowed away on the Doctor's time ship. But he'd needed a lift, and the Doctor, while somewhat weird, seemed a decent enough sort, having helped save the planet and all, so...

 "Can you feel it?"

 Wil looked up, surprised out of his reminiscences. His companion was glancing keenly up and around.

 "What?" Wil asked.

 "Something's going to happen." The Doctor, a fey glint in his bright blue eyes, had turned his head and was looking directly at Wil.

 Wil shivered, and not from the wind.

 "Something," he managed. "What?"

 The Doctor shook his head, his own unruly brown locks straggling in an undisciplined manner down to his shoulders. "I don't know," he told an unnerved Wil. "But something... Soon."

 The Time Lord flashed a quick, cheerful smile, perhaps meant to be reassuring, at his human friend as they continued on their way.

 Wil hunched his shoulders. Wonderful. *Something* was going to happen. The Doctor occasionally displayed flashes of vague prescience. But such a general announcement was worse than useless -- all it had done was make Wil feel nervous. Call him a pessimist, but he had the feeling that this *something* wouldn't be anything good.

 ***

 The figure following the two strangers from the bar peeked cautiously out from around the corner of the building they'd just passed. Good. They definitely looked as though they were leaving. All she had to do was watch and wait, and make sure they left, then go back and report that she hadn't been able to find them.

 But she couldn't lose them, not yet. She had to be sure they were really gone, that they wouldn't *somehow* find their way to--

 She shook her head. She was making too much out of an old woman's dreams again. She glanced up to see her quarry passing out of the range of the street light at the end of the block. Waiting a few moments, she carefully followed.

 ***

 Wil glanced at the Doctor. The Time Lord had lost his earlier detachedness and was striding happily along, glancing momentarily into each plate-glass window they passed.

 "Well, you look cheerful, all of a sudden," Wil commented.

 "Hmm? Oh, it's just that we're being followed. It's begun."

 "*What?!*" Wil stopped in mid-stride.

 "No, no, no, no; don't look back," the Doctor scolded, tugging at Wil's arm. "We don't want to scare whoever-they-are off."

 Wil gawped, but resumed walking. "Yeah, well we don't want them to catch up with us, either, do we? Let's just go!"

 Good advice, sage advice, never-to-be-followed advice. "Well, actually, here's what I rather had in mind..." the Doctor began, leaning conspiratively close.

 ***

 The figure in the hooded quilted jacket turned a corner and stopped short in dismay. The two men she'd been following were nowhere in sight! A half-block earlier, they'd been just strolling along -- how had they outdistanced her so quickly?!

 Angry and anxious, she took a few strides further along into the pool of lamp-light, then halted again.

 ***

 The Doctor, eyebrows raised, glanced behind at Wil, as they both peered carefully out of the alleyway at their pursuer. "What do you think?"

 Wil stared. What he *really* thought he certainly wouldn't tell the Doctor. It was a girl. Looked to be about his age, and though it was difficult to tell, what with the hooded jacket she was wearing up over her head, she seemed to be quite good-looking. Medium height, dark hair. He couldn't tell the color of her eyes from this distance.

 "Well, there's only one of her. She'll probably leave now that she thinks she's lost us."

 The Doctor tsked. "Well, *that* certainly won't do. It's time for us to introduce ourselves."

 The next instant, he'd strolled blithely out into the street, as Wil snatched at his coat tails in a futile attempt to stop him.

 ***

 Okay. So they were gone. Perfect -- now she'd never see them again. What she wanted. So much for the 'prophecy' and all that garbage. Fine. Now, she'd better get back and break the 'bad' news.

 She patted her right jacket pocket, feeling the hard, unaccustomed shape of the sidearm inside. Well, at least she hadn't had to use this.

 She turned away, strode several paces back the way she had come...

 ...and started violently as an unexpected noise came from behind her.

 "Hello."

 She whirled. It was one of them -- it was *him*! She backed up several steps, her face gone pale with alarm. What an idiot she'd been -- they'd obviously seen her following them and had lain in wait for her!

 The fancily-dressed man was looking at her searchingly with blue eyes much brighter than her own lightly-colored eyes. "It's a lovely evening for a stroll, isn't it? We seem to be going in the same direction."

 Handsome clothing, fair face, soothing voice. Her face crumpled in dismay. "Where's the other one?" she demanded, looking around.

 "Wil? Well, he was just behind me...over there..." The man glanced back over his shoulder and pointed. "I'm the Doctor, by the way. And you are?" He smiled as if introducing himself to new acquaintances in barely-lit streets at night were a common occurrence, and extended his right hand for a hand-clasp.

 The young woman gaping at him looked down at the hand as if it were a poisonous snake. The next instant, she looked quickly up again as the other stranger's voice came to her ears.

 "Hello."

 "Wil! This is Gwilym Young, Wil for short," the 'Doctor' said cheerfully, turning to gesture his friend over, "and Wil, this is..." The Doctor leaned a little closer to her. "*What* did you say your name was?"

 "Bevin Hoffman," she answered automatically, the next instant annoyed that she'd said anything. She attempted a lop-sided smile. "Look, I'm sorry if you thought I was following you -- it was a mistake. I thought you two were some people I know." She stepped back away from the two curious men. "Now I'll be on my way, and you two can be on yours. Sorry. For all the confusion. Okay?"

 She continued to back away, her eyes pleading for them to just GO...

 "Bevin."

 She stopped, and the next moment felt a flush of anger. Who was this 'Doctor', to just speak to her so familiarly, and expect her to stop and listen?

 She turned and began to walk briskly away, shaking her head. The whole situation was ludicrous. That idiotic 'prophecy' of Nana's, her waiting for this 'Doctor', then making a fool of herself by following him. Right. All done with, now. She was going home, where she belonged. It had all been a stupid mistake--

 "Bev*in*--" A hand fell lightly on her shoulder, and she spun about, glaring. The Doctor was standing right behind her, an intent expression on his face as his hand fell back to his side. Several yards behind, Wil was trailing, looking uncomfortable. Oddly enough, the fact that she was being accosted by two strange men on a dark side-street of the city didn't alarm her, though it should have. But then again, she had far worse things to worry about...

 "Look, I told you it was all a mistake! Now leave me *alone*!" she exclaimed heatedly.

 "Erm, Doctor..." Wil began.

 "Bevin," the Doctor sighed. "I can't help you if you don't tell me about the problem."

 Bevin stared back at him, appalled. My God, it was happening. All the trouble she'd gone to in order to avoid what Nana had said would happen, and here it was, happening anyways...

 She felt a sense of stifled panic -- something half-glimpsed was closing in around her. Damn Nana and her prescience, anyway! The next instant, she felt a wave of grief, and silently willed her ill-wishing away.

 Perhaps Nana truly wasn't long for this world, but damned if she'd let this smooth-talking, presumptuous stranger be the cause...

 Bevin reached into her pocket, fumbled around, and yanked out the handgun.

 Both the Doctor and Wil went very still as she narrowed her eyes and pointed the gun at them. "*Your* kind of help we don't need, 'Doctor' or whoever you are," she said shakily. "Nobody asked you to come here. Now I want you to get out of here. I want you to go back to whatever you used to get here to Altos 3, get in it, and *leave*."

 ***

 "Bevin," the Doctor said carefully, staring at the handgun. The fingers curled around the trigger were shaking. And if there was anything more dangerous than someone experienced in using hand weapons, it was someone who *wasn't*.

 "Shut up! Just *go*!"

 "All right, we'll go," he said reasonably, arms half-raised. "But first, would you answer just one question for us?"

 She stared. "What?"

 "Who that is coming up behind you."

 One of the oldest tricks in the book -- and she fell for it. Bevin, turning her head to look, lowered her weapon slightly and loosened her grip on the trigger. The next instant, the handgun had been snatched out of her grasp. By the time she'd turned fully back to see, the Doctor was contentedly popping out the energy cartridge and secreting it away in a pocket.

 "Sometimes the old tricks still work," the Time Lord said in answer to Wil's expression of surprise. The former jester grinned, then relaxed.

 Bevin gawped, flummoxed. "Why, you--! Give me that back!"

 With a flourish, the Doctor handed her the now inoperative gun. Her grim expression told him she didn't appreciate the pleasantry. She stood fuming, glaring first at the useless weapon, then at him, then at the pocket into which he'd dropped the cartridge.

 Her shoulders slumped. "I don't believe this. I just do not believe this. I just--" Her hands moved spasmodically. "I was just trying--" She turned away, at a loss for words.

 "To do what?" the Doctor asked, fascinated.

 She whirled and pinned him with a vicious glare. "To save my grandmother! From *you*!"

 The Doctor's eyebrows flew up. "From *me*?!"

 Wil stared. "But we've only just arrived -- we don't even *know* your grandmother."

 "That's not the point!" Bevin snarled. "I didn't want to believe it, but she's been right so many times before. For little things. This time, she said someone called the 'Doctor' would come here to help us, and that I should wait for you here today and bring you to meet with her. I heard her telling someone when they thought I wasn't around that there would soon be death and destruction. And that she would be one of those who died.

 "And all this is because of *YOU*!"

 To be continued....