FIC: Ten Times Trouble (2/2)
Title: Ten Times Trouble (2/2)
Author: tigerkat24
Pairings: Ian/Barbara is the only explicit one.
Characters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Ian, Barbara, Jamie, Victoria, Sarah Jane Smith, Romana II, Evelyn Smythe, Ace McShane, Fitz Kriener, Jack Harkness, Donna, numerous OCs, and Ben and Polly mentioned. Yeah.
Rating: PG-13 for Captain Jack (and to some extent Fitz).
Spoilers: Nothing specific, a lot of general ones, but most of them are episodes that were shown for the first time a minimum of nineteen years ago. If there’s a spoiler statute of limitations, I think we’re past it.
Prompt: All ten Doctors show up at Ian and Barbara's wedding, and all of them have very bad timing.
Author's Notes: Wow, this turned into a friggin’ monster. I hope you like it. Two’s line about lacy cravats originated in the finaleclipse community with suitboyskin, so all credit goes to him for graciously allowing me to use it. Also fits in timeline-wise with my story Listening, but reading that is not remotely required.
Bonus: Tell me where the OC names came from and I'll give you a cookie.

“Thank goodness that’s over,” Barbara said, and went straight into Ian’s arms.

“Amen.” Ian rested his head atop hers, and they stood in silence for a moment. She relaxed into the comfort of his embrace, so dear and familiar and now entirely hers. Well, officially, at any rate. She knew Ian had been hers for far longer than today.

And she his, if it came to that. Well.

“Was that the Doctor?” she asked, breaking the silence. “Really, I mean? He didn’t look anything like our Doctor.”

Ian sighed. “I think he was,” he said. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but this morning I got a visit from another one of him. Two, actually.”

“Another… what? Ian, what are you talking about?” She leaned back to get a better look at his face.

“Another Doctor,” he said, and told her the story. She was giggling by the end of it. “...and the other one returned my tie just in the nick of time. I suppose he’s got better at driving the TARDIS by now.”

“One can only hope,” Barbara replied, and nestled her head against his chest again. “So he reincarnates.”

Ian kissed the top of her head. “Mm, in a way. At least that’s how the second gentleman explained it. He said he’s on his eighth incarnation.”

“Eight!” She started. “Do you mean to say there are going to be eight of them showing up?”

He laughed. “The first one did say we were going to be seeing rather a lot of him today. I only hope they’ve got better timing then the blond one.”

Barbara groaned and hid her face in his chest. “And our Doctor hasn’t even come.”

Ian laughed again. “He’d probably miss by a few hundred years.” He stepped back and leaned down to kiss her.

When they’d finished, she slipped her arms around his neck to keep him from leaning back up. “You know,” she breathed, “they aren’t expecting us at the reception for at least half an hour.”

“Is that so?” Ian’s gaze heated, and her body heated with it. “Well, if we have that long…”

Some time and several bits of clothing later, she heard someone coming down the hall. “Ian!”

He jerked to his feet and managed to get her skirts down just as the door opened and a skinny man backed in, still talking. “…lovely people, really, some of the best oh.”

“Best oh?” a woman behind him asked. “Doctor, what are you on about?”

“Nothing! Nothing to see here,” the man—another of the Doctors!—babbled, his eyes darting as if he didn’t know where to look. “Nothing at all. Empty room. Let’s try down the hall, shall we?” He backed out rapidly, and shut the door with an overemphatic bang.

Barbara looked at her husband, rumpled and scowling with his hair every which way, and burst into laughter.

“I’m going to kill him,” Ian muttered. “Slowly. Oh, come on, Barbara, it isn’t funny!”

“Yes it is,” she said, between giggles. “His face! Your face!”

Ian narrowed his eyes, and said, “So that’s funny, is it?” He caught at her waist and his mouth came down on hers, hard, and suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore, but something much better.

This time they made sure to lock the door.

---

That was the wedding down, and only the reception to go before she never had to see Paul and Caroline Wright again. Elisabeth Chesterton mopped her brow and sat carefully at a table by the door, the better to monitor the guests for any unexpected disturbances. If she never had to overhear another rant about her son and his supposed seducing tendencies…

Ian simply wasn’t like that! And she’d been eavesdropping so she couldn’t even justify springing to his defense. Elisabeth set her mouth in a tight line. As if women couldn’t decide they wanted something and go after it.

And then that strange box. She didn’t even have the faintest idea what that had been about. Some prank, maybe? At least the man had taken himself off and hadn’t interrupted the ceremony further.

Elisabeth raised her eyes to the heavens and sent up a brief prayer—no more interruptions. Let the reception go off flawlessly, please.

“…very well, how about a wedding?”

She glanced sharply up as an elegant white-haired man in a green velvet jacket entered the room, accompanied by a pretty young girl in a brown pantsuit. The man was the one speaking, and he continued as he held the door open for the girl. “That’s peaceful enough, isn’t it?”

“Doctor, nothing is peaceful with you around.” The girl surveyed the crowd in talking, mingling groups, and said, “How do you know these people, anyway?”

“They travelled with me for a time,” the man said. “You’d like them, Sarah, especially Barbara. She was very like you.”

The girl brightened. “Do you think?”

Elisabeth stood and made her way over to them. “Pardon,” she said, “but were you invited?”

The man gave her a charming smile. “I’m afraid not, but I expect Ian and Barbara would be glad to see us, Mrs…?”

“Chesterton,” Elisabeth supplied.

“Ah! Ian’s mother, then. May I compliment you on your son?” He took her hand and bowed over it with rare grace. “I’m the Doctor, and this is my companion Miss Sarah Jane Smith. Sarah Jane has got rather tired of the trouble I drag her into, and so I said I would take her somewhere quiet for once.”

Sarah Jane bobbed her head awkwardly. “How do you do.”

Charmed in spite of herself, Elisabeth smiled. “Well, if you’re a friend of Ian’s, you must come and have a drink at least. I’m afraid he’s not here at the moment.”

The Doctor smiled; his eyes crinkled up at the corners as he did. “Giving the bride and groom a moment alone before the hullabaloo? I thoroughly approve.”

“We all thought it best to be discreet,” Elisabeth said, and sighed.

He made sympathetic noises. “Children are a trial, aren’t they?”

“Horrible,” Elisabeth agreed, watching with some amusement as Sarah Jane shot the Doctor a narrow-eyed look of confusion. Now there was a conversation she’d love to overhear.

“Oh, look, isn’t it lovely?”

A shorter, shabbier man had just pushed through the double doors, with a boy in a kilt by his side, and a girl in a beautiful old dress trailing behind them with wide eyes. “I do love the roses,” the shabby man said, rubbing his hands together, and turned to Elisabeth with a smile broad across his face. “And you must be Ian’s sister, dear lady.”

Elisabeth blushed, oddly flattered. “Of course not,” she replied, tartly. “I’m his mother. Who are you?”

“I’m the Doctor,” he said, and beamed some more, taking her hand and shaking it briskly. “Such a pleasure to meet you. I say, you don’t look nearly old enough to be his mother.”

“The Doctor?” Elisabeth asked, distracted from the overdone and rather nice flattery. “But…”

“Oh, lovely,” the Doctor in green velvet said, his voice frosty. “The hobo has chosen to grace us with his presence.”

The shabby Doctor stiffened. Behind him, the girl and boy blinked in unison; the boy leaned forward and whispered, “Doctor, who’s that?”

“That’s me,” the shabby Doctor replied, his tone as stiff as his face. “The foppish version, anyway. Jamie, why don’t you and Victoria go and have a drink? I’m going to be a moment.”

The bekilted boy—Jamie, obviously—blinked again in surprise, but obediently took the girl’s arm and headed off towards the bar. Elisabeth resigned herself to arbitrating alone.

“Late as usual, I see,” the elegant Doctor said, straightening his cuffs ostentatiously. “And just as poorly dressed as ever. I thought I’d seen the last of you.”

The shabby Doctor rolled his eyes. “Dandy to the core. I don’t know about you, but I’ve come to see a wedding, not my coat.”

The elegant Doctor sniffed. “A certain standard of dress in a man shows a respect for the traditions and meanings of the day that a little troll like yourself could never understand.”

“Oh, indeed,” the shabby Doctor said, “and nothing says ‘I’m manly’ like saving the world in a lacy cravat.”

“Why, you little cretin!”

Sarah Jane looked torn between horror and amusement. “I don’t know you!” she cried, then turned to Elisabeth and, half-laughing, said, “I don’t know him!”

Elisabeth, unsure whether to laugh or cry, only shook her head. At least they were keeping it quiet.

---

It was all so terribly romantic.

Katy Chesterton sighed happily and propped her chin in her hands, watching the wedding party pass by. There was Thomas, unaccountably good-looking, and whoever would have thought her scruffy brother would scrub up so well? Barbara’s pretty little sister Louisa on Thomas’s arm; Katy was certain they would be great friends. The other groomsmen and bridesmaids all dressed up, but not nearly as handsome or as pretty as Thomas or Louisa.

Her parents, Barbara’s parents, smiling very politely at everyone else and pretending that this wedding wasn’t an embarrassment, which, in Katy’s opinion, it wasn’t. After all, everyone knew that eloping was the most romantic way to go about getting married, even if the people in question didn’t get married until they got back. But having the wedding first was silly and old-fashioned. All in all, she thoroughly approved of the way her big brother had gone about things.

And besides, her parents should be thanking their lucky stars that Ian had got married at all. Ian had seemed so happy on his own, before he eloped, anyway. Katy frowned—perhaps that eloping had been because he was discontented—then dismissed the thought. He was certainly happy now.

There were Ian and Barbara at last, beaming joy, both of them slightly dishevelled and Ian blushing just a little bit. Katy stifled a giggle. She could guess what had been happening. Who’d’ve thought that of her straight-laced big brother?

No, Ian was definitely in love if he was kissing his wife in closets and eloping. How thrillingly romantic.

She must have said that last out loud, because a blonde woman beside her arched an inquiring eyebrow. “What is?”

“Oh, this whole wedding,” Katy said, not in the least embarrassed. It was so modern to be overheard talking to yourself, after all. A sign of genius. “Look at them, they’re so ragingly happy. I’m so pleased.”

The blonde woman smiled softly. “Indeed,” she said. “My companion was very happy for them as well. They were always some of his favorites.”

“Favorite what?” Katy asked, and was distracted by the wedding dance beginning. “Oh, how romantic.”

And it was, it really and truly was. Barbara looked so beautiful in white, with her hair down for once, and Ian was really very handsome for a big brother, both of them swaying to the music. Katy clasped her hands beneath her chin and drank it all in.

“Someone should give that boy a dancing lesson,” the blonde woman observed, after a moment. “Honestly, he’s bad as the Doctor.”

Katy shot her a glare—no one insulted her brothers except her (and Sarah, of course, but sisters were a different matter). “Ian can dance perfectly well,” she said, frostily, then asked, “Who’s the Doctor?”

The blonde woman, to Katy’s slight displeasure, looked only amused by the set-down. “The Doctor is my companion,” she said. “I’m looking after him for a bit. He does have the most appalling ability to get into trouble.”

“Does he?” Katy asked, somewhat uncertainly.

“Oh, you’ve no idea. He...” The blonde woman trailed off and looked around, her eyes narrowing. “Now where’s he gone?”

Just as she finished speaking, the speakers fizzed, popped, and trailed off into a hiss of static mid-song. Ian and Barbara stopped dancing and gave the musicians puzzled looks; the musicians gave them puzzled looks right back.

Katy gasped. “Oh, how horrid!”

The blonde woman rolled her eyes, got up, and stalked over towards the nearest speaker, which she pulled aside to reveal an absurdly tall man in an absurdly long scarf tinkering with the back.

“Doctor,” she said, her voice even frostier than Katy’s. “What did I tell you about causing trouble?”

“I’m not causing trouble,” the tall man said, without looking up. He aimed a strange tool that looked like a dentist’s apparatus at the back of the speaker. “I’m making it better, Romana. Really, it’s ridiculous the technology people will use. If I just reroute this and connect that wire to this one then the sound quality will be almost four hundred times better and the projection—gak!”

The blonde woman had taken hold of his scarf and pulled him half off the ground. “Fix it,” she said, clipped and deadly. “Or it won’t be me you’ll have to face.”

“What could be scarier than you?” the tall man asked, wide-eyed with innocence.

The blonde woman didn’t even answer. She just nodded at Ian and Barbara, glaring from the dance floor.

The man looked, swallowed, and did something very fast to the back of the speaker. It hissed, fizzed and popped back into life immediately.

“There, it’s fixed,” he said, standing up (and really, Katy thought, he was absurdly tall; who needed that much leg?). “Happy now?”

The blonde woman crossed her arms. “No. But it will do. Once they’re finished, you will apologize, and then we are leaving. Honestly! You’re like a four-year-old sometimes!”

“I beg your pardon!” the tall man said. “I have a good six hundred years on you, madam!”

The blonde woman gave him a withering look, and said, “Yes, and I’ve two hundred years of sense. What do you have? Four?”

He did not deign to respond to that, instead stalking over to the seat next to Katy and overflowing it. “Females,” he said, sounding deeply disgruntled. “You try to improve things and they muck it all up.”

“Oh, indeed?” Katy asked, sweetly.

“Allow me to translate.” The blonde woman had followed him back. “What he means is, he creates a giant mess and then gets irritated when I pick it up.” She cast the tall man a look of exasperated fondness. “I swear, sometimes he’s just not worth the trouble.”

“Only sometimes?” the tall man asked, still disgruntled. “I should think all the time.”

“Don’t be silly, Doctor,” the blonde woman said, serenely. “Now shut up and watch them dance. Honestly, he’s worse than you.”

Katy, thoroughly nonplussed, took the woman’s advice and spent the rest of the reception pretending that the man in the scarf did not exist.

---

The Doctor had been feeling depressed lately, that much was obvious. Having Rose away didn’t exactly help, either, but she’d wanted some time with her mum, and neither the Doctor nor Jack was about to deny her that. So they’d left her on earth and set off into the Vortex.

Jack had put up with the Doctor’s moping for a while, figuring that everyone deserved some time off. But there was only so much sulking a guy could take, and he’d hit that point an hour ago.

And now he was at the wedding of two old companions, drink in one hand, the Doctor leaning against the wall next to him, playing “spot the Doctor.”

Highly preferable to wondering whether the Doctor had chosen to sulk in the library or the kitchen.

“That one,” he said. “Curls in a scarf. That’s you.”

The Doctor grinned. “Fourth body. What gave me away?”

“The teeth,” Jack said. “You’re very toothy when you want to be. Um.” He scanned the crowds, which didn’t help much, since his eyes kept snagging on all the pretty girls and handsome men.

“Look over by the door,” the Doctor advised.

Jack did as directed. “Wow. What a fight. Green velvet’s you, I bet. Who’s the other guy, and what’d he ever do to you?”

“My second and third incarnations never got along,” the Doctor said, and shrugged.

“Wait, wait, wait. They’re both you?”

The Doctor grinned again, this time somewhat smugly. “The shabby one is my second body and the elegant one is my third. I did tell you I varied a bit.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Just then, a lovely blonde woman in a perfect shade of blue strode past, heading purposefully for the guy in the scarf. Jack whistled. “Who’s the babe?”

The Doctor looked, and the smile fell off his face. “Romana,” he said, flatly, and turned away, towards the wall.

Well, shit. That had been the wrong thing to do.

Whatever. Now was not the time. They could discuss this Romana later, but this was a wedding. Jack looked hastily about for a distraction, and found one in the shape of the groom.

He cleared his throat to catch the Doctor’s attention, then sauntered over to Ian Chesterton and leered at him. “Hello, handsome,” he said. “What’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?”

Ian Chesterton, clearly nonplussed, blinked at him. “Uh. Getting married, actually.”

“Shame,” Jack said, cheerfully. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the Doctor hustling up to him. “Guess you’re busy tonight. Still, there’s always Saturday.”

Ian stiffened. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

He knew very well what Jack had meant. Jack grinned.

The Doctor arrived. “Jack,” he hissed through his teeth, “what are you doing?”

It was not a question. Jack answered anyway. “Doing my thing, Doc, doing my thing.”

The Doctor did not seem to appreciate that.

Fortunately for Jack’s continued well-being, the bride arrived just then. Barbara Chesterton was just as lovely as the Doctor had described her, if in a slightly unconventional way. She had really beautiful eyes, dark and promising, and a smile for her husband that, in Jack’s professional opinion, could stop hearts if used for ill.

She tucked her arm through her husband’s possessively, and Jack felt a brief pang of jealousy that he stepped on, hard. This was about cheering up the Doctor, not his own emotional issues.

“Ian,” she said, smiling, with just the tiniest edge to her voice. “What’s going on here?”

“I wish that I knew,” Ian said, fervently. “Um, this is my wife, Barbara.”

Share and share alike. Jack leered at her, too. “Captain Jack Harkness, ma’am,” he said. “May I say you’re looking especially lovely?”

“You may,” she said, sweetly. “In moderation.”

Ouch. Stung. Nice set of anti-aircraft guns on her, Jack thought, grinning. “Then you’re looking especially lovely. Ma’am.”

“Don’t mind him,” the Doctor said, glaring. “His hormones are overactive.”

“Obviously,” Ian muttered, and pulled his wife just a little closer to his side, for protection or as protection, Jack couldn’t tell.

“Have we met?” Barbara asked, neatly turning the conversation away from hormones.

Jack turned it back. “No. Pity, don’t you think?”

The Doctor stepped on his foot hard and gave the couple a toothy smile. “You’ve met me,” he said. “Repeatedly. Sorry about the chap in the scarf.”

“No trouble,” Ian said. “Doctor.”

The Doctor saluted briefly, and, Jack thought, ironically. “It’s wonderful to see you both,” he said, and then, as Green Velvet and Short’n’Shabby left, still bickering, added, “Again.”

“Beautiful ceremony,” Jack put in, and winked at Barbara. “I cried like a baby.”

Apparently the Chestertons had made a silent and simultaneous decision to politely ignore him. “We’re glad you could come,” Ian said, warmly, to the Doctor. “All of you. Though I could have done without the TARDIS materialising mid-ceremony. Or the abrupt appearance in my dressing room.”

“Second one wasn’t my fault,” the Doctor pointed out, probably fairly, though you never knew with him. “First, yeah, I’m sorry. Tegan yelled at me over it, if it helps.”

“Oh, I’m sure it wasn’t anyone’s fault,” Barbara said, and smiled at him.

“Yeah,” Jack said, sotto voice. “’Cause we all know you can’t drive.”

“Right, that’s it,” the Doctor said. “Barbara, Ian, lovely to see you again, congratulations, may you have many happy years and many healthy children, I’m going to take Jack back to the TARDIS and throw him in the pool.” He half-bowed to both of them, kissed Barbara’s hand in a gesture so unlike him that it had to be a conscious choice, then seized Jack’s arm and dragged him off towards the doors.

Jack threw a wink back over his shoulder and called, “Ciao! Look me up if you ever—ow! Doctor!” The Doctor didn’t respond, and Jack resigned himself to being ignored.

Once they were back in the TARDIS, the Doctor sighed, and rubbed his forehead with one hand. “Jack, Jack, Jack. You had to go and flirt.”

“Of course,” Jack replied, as if it were obvious, which it was. “Life is short, and they are hot. Besides, you were about to go and be depressive again and we can’t have that.”

The Doctor barked a short, dry laugh. “Suppose not. Well, let’s go pick up Rose. There’s a lovely planet in 2775 I’ve been meaning to visit.”

--

Barbara Wright Chesterton half-collapsed on a chair and took, gratefully, the glass of water Ian offered her. “Thank God that’s over,” she said, watching over the rim as the guests began to wander out.

“No more Doctors,” Ian said, smiling. “I have to say, I did want to see him again, but…”

“Not like that?” She chuckled, and sighed. “No. Still, it’s a pity ours didn’t make it.”

Ian reached out and took her free hand, running his thumb over the back. “He did come, eventually. It just took him a while.”

She smiled at him, so grateful for him it hurt. What had she done to deserve Ian? “Yes. Besides, he would have felt obliged to be grumpy.”

“To keep up his image,” Ian agreed. “Not that it could have made today any more chaotic, but it could have troublesome.”

Barbara laughed outright. “Since when has anything ever not been chaotic for us?” she asked, and he grinned. “I wasn’t expecting quite this level of chaos, though. I thought your father and mine might come to blows, though.”

Ian winced. “Oh, dear. That’s going to make family reunions interesting.”

“We’ll manage.” She set down her glass and rested her free hand on her abdomen. Yes, they would manage. With everything.

Ian, who could apparently follow her thoughts just by watching her, kissed her hand gently. “And you’re feeling all right.”

“Fine,” she said. “Not looking forward to telling my parents, that’s all.” A moment, and she laughed at his expression. “Oh, Ian, don’t be like that. It doesn’t really matter now.”

“Your father,” he said, and she heard the worry, and shook her head.

“Doesn’t matter. He won’t disown me, since we are properly married now—“ she squeezed his hand, and he smiled— “and since I don’t have to live in the same house, I don’t really care what he has to say. Besides, grandchildren will convince him. I guarantee it.”

“If you’re sure.”

Louisa came up to them just then with a very odd expression on her face. “Sorry to interrupt,” she began, “but there’s something strange going on.”

Barbara exchanged a resigned look with Ian before turning to her sister. “What is it?”

“The rector just called,” Louisa said. “He wanted to apologise again for not being able to make it. There are trees down on the tracks and he didn’t know until it was too late to drive back.”

Barbara blinked. “Well, he must have called someone else…”

Louisa shook her head. “He was apologising for that, too. I had to calm him down. Poor man was quite distraught.”

“Then who…?” She turned to look at Ian, saw her own confusion mirrored in his eyes.

“Did you know,” their Doctor said, from behind them, “that I was ordained once? Henry VIII. Very strange man.” He smiled at them, that benevolent, avuncular smile they’d so rarely seen on the TARDIS. “Did you think I would miss it? Congratulations.” He kissed Barbara’s forehead, shook Ian’s hand, bowed to both of them, and left.

Louisa frowned, staring after him. “Who on earth was that?”

“No one,” Ian said, and smiled at Barbara, squeezing her hand again. “No one.”