"Advanced race, my ass."

Romana heard the tail end of the muttered comment and smiled. "Patience, Dean," she said. "We'll be on the way in just a tick." She paused, considering. Tick? "Word of advice, never regenerate in a rush. You've no idea how much that gums up the works."

It would explain the TARDIS's insistence on malfunction, she'd hardly settled into her new skin, she couldn't blame the TARDIS for having the same problem. Particularly since she'd had to salvage parts from less than reputable sources. One did what one could with what was on hand but, well... It wasn't as though she could stop off at the Citadel for a quick look-see.

Romana decided that clearly the Doctor was to blame for her current misfortunes. After all, it was quite likely to be true if she thought about it long enough. "If only I had K-9," she murmured to herself, leaning in to give another component a quick whack with a wrench.

"Oh yeah," Dean agreed lazily. "Rushed regenerations are always a bitch." He leaned over a console to look down at her. "So, exactly how long's a tick? Longer than a tock or around the same?"

She looked at the readouts. "Oh, just so long as -- " Romana watched his eyes glaze over and stood up, brushing off her hands. "Well, I suppose a little look round wouldn't hurt."

Dean grinned and grabbed his jacket. "Excellent." He looked over at her. "Just so we're clear, we're still going, right?"

Romana rolled her eyes. "Yes, we are still going. You want to see this band of yours play, the TARDIS will get us there on time. One of the benefits of a ship which travels in time is that one is never late." Unless it happened to be the Doctor driving, of course, but then generally not only were you late but in quite the wrong spot. He'd never been terribly good at navigation.

He looked over her shoulder at the TARDIS's inner workings, eyeing them dubiously. "And in one piece?"

She smiled widely and patted his cheek. "Mostly, haven't lost a major organ yet and that leg turned up after a day or so. I must say, I am quite curious to see just what the Yoplaiti really look like. I've heard that the adults actually have three heads."

"Three heads?" Dean repeated, grabbing his jacket.

Romana pretended she didn't see the weapons he added to the mix. She'd quite grown tired of arguing with him about it and had decided to let him land himself in a vat of oil on Umox Five or some such world. That would nip it in the bud nicely. "Well, yes, so I've heard. But, of course, you understand that the third one is largely vestigial. It only comes in useful should misfortune befall one of the other two."

"They use them as spares?" he blinked. "Shit."

"Well, of course," Romana agreed, opening the TARDIS door. "It's always best to be prepared, one can never really know what's around the next corner."

"A whole lot of pink apparently." Dean said, staring out at the pink-blanketed horizon. "It's the Pepto-Bismol planet of the three-headed yogurt people." He looked at her. "This is where you stop to fix the car?"

"Seemed as good a planet as any," she defended with a shrug. "They're not currently at war, no penchant for eating humans, and the only one within six systems on which you stand very little chance of nearly getting us killed." She locked the TARDIS. "While running for our lives is doing wonders for my calves, I do think I'm beginning to suffer hearing loss from all the gunfire."

"Oh like it's my fault that Alderbaran ghosts think rock salt's an aphrodisiac?" Dean grumbled. "They're ghosts how the hell can they even -- " Romana opened her mouth to speak and he clamped a hand over it. "Whatever you're going to say? Don't."

She waited until he removed his hand to say, "They're quite capable of taking corporeal form and equally capable of intercourse. It's actually quite a pleasant experience."

"Think I'm gonna be sick," Dean muttered.

"Mind the grass then," Romana said briskly. "The Yoplaiti are quite strict on that."

"They've got rules against puking on the grass?"

"Oh they've rules on everything," Romana said. "No need to worry, just do as I tell you and you shouldn't have a problem." She smiled sweetly at him. "Do try to listen this time, Dean, the Yoplaiti tend to douse their criminals in a rather fetid smelling liquid and I'd rather not have you foul up my TARDIS."

"I never know when you're kidding," he complained.

"Strangely enough, I rarely do," said Romana. "Now, come on then, you've got those eardrums that you wish to bust and I want to look around before we leave."

"Just how long you planning to harp on that one?" he asked. "We are talking the chance to see the greatest band in history play live. How can I pass that up?"

She made a face. "I offer you the chance to see the whole of history, space and time, go to any world at any time and you choose a rock concert?" Romana huffed a breath. "It's no small wonder that you lot managed to crawl out of the primordial ooze on your own."

He grinned at her. "You're just pissed off because it's not the Beatles."

Romana sniffed indignantly. "Hardly, but if I'm to see a concert, I'd much rather see Queen. If I'm going to go deaf, I might as well get a decent show out of the process."

"Snob," Dean accused.

"Well, I never denied that," she said. "And mind that grass! I promise you, Dean Winchester, if my TARDIS ends up smelling like sweaty gym socks..."

"You'll make me walk home, yeah, yeah I know." Dean grinned at her and she rolled her eyes. Humans.

Romana looked longingly at her TARDIS and then at him. "Behave." His grin widened and she looked away, refusing to be swayed by it. "Please?"

He snickered and she closed her eyes. It was no wonder the Doctor'd run through so many regenerations.

With this lot, how could one avoid it?

fin

 

Not mine!

 

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