Chapter Text
Title: Lending a Hand
Authors: 
goldy_dollar and hjea
Characters/Pairings: Tenth Doctor, Rose, implied Ten/Rose, Firefly crew with Mal/Inara and other canon pairings.
Disclaimer: We don’t own DW and/or Firefly. But we do secretly think that RTD is the evil genius offspring of Joss Whedon.
Spoilers/Timeline: Doctor Who: Post-Fear Her, pre-AoG/Doomsday, Firefly: post-Serenity
Summary: Wherever they’d ended up, it was definitely not Sihnon.
Rating: PG13
Words: 2, 020
Chapter One
The Doctor busily stuffed the last of his sandwich into his mouth while simultaneously piloting the TARDIS and explaining their impending destination to Rose. In his estimation, such a miraculous ability to multitask was no easy feat.
“Five-hundred years in your future, your earth’s used up, and you lot are left with no choice but to move out into space. You terraform new planets, build yourselves ships and new technologies.” He swallowed the last bit of the sandwich, and continued. “The human race, moving out into space for the very first time, and you stumble, you make mistakes, you fight war, but here you are, doing it, things you never would’ve even dreamed about.”
Rose’s impressed gaze was rudely cut off by a particularly violent landing, and she focused most of her attention on hanging on for dear life.
Well. He couldn’t always be perfect.
A few bumps later, the TARDIS settled herself out, and Rose leaned forward, resting her head on the console and breathing in heavily. “So… where are we, then?”
“Sihnon, the very height of civilization, the very example of culture and unity and really excellent health services. You know they’ve cut their wait times down to thirty seconds? Thirty seconds. Like to see your parliament accomplish that.”
“Oh, god, not cats again,” Rose said, picking her head up, and smoothing out her shirt.
“Nope,” the Doctor said, holding out a hand. “Haven’t discovered alien planets yet. Oh, there are sightings, of course, but the government’s busy trying to keep it all hush, hush. Universe has enough unity troubles as it is. We ready, then?”
Her fingers curled around his, and she gave him a cheeky grin. “Always.”
He grinned at her in a particularly stupid sort of way, and she had to tug him out the door, rolling her eyes.
“Right,” he said. “Sihnon—small planet, millions of people, at the center of the new universe, under Alliance control—what?”
Rose stood very still in the TARDIS’s entrance, and the Doctor poked his head around her.
“Oh, well… right,” he said. “This can’t be good.”
“Are we even…” Rose whispered. “Where are we?”
“Well, not Sihnon, at any rate,” the Doctor said. He stepped forward, relieved when he landed on solid ground. Wherever they were, it was dark, and smelled disconcertingly like ash. “It’s a space ship.”
“We’re in space?” Rose said, coming up behind him.
“Not in space, no,” the Doctor said, bending down, squinting at the ground. He traced one hand along the floor. “Can’t hear the engine.”
“So it crashed then, yeah?” Rose said, hovering over him.
“Recently too, judging by the smell,” he said. “Floor’s still warm.”
He stood, narrowed eyes scanning the cargo bay. “Ahh, it’s a Firefly-class!” he said, moving around and opening side paneling, peering in. “But that’s brilliant. Like a steady piece of rock, these are. Always wanted to travel in a Firefly. Known to last for centuries.”
“Well, it’s not going anywhere at the moment,” Rose mumbled.
“Used for smuggling and the like,” the Doctor said. “Isn’t that something? Yesterday I’m part of a child’s drawing, today we’re living under the law, on the run—fugitives.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t sound too good,” Rose said. “Doctor, there’s gotta be people who were onboard when it crashed. People who could be using our help.”
The Doctor pressed his ear to the floor. “There she is,” he said. “You haven’t given in yet, have you, girl? Just need a bit of a kick to get yourself turning again...”
“Uh, Doctor, you might want to—”
Rose’s voice was followed by the distinct click of a gun. The Doctor sprang up, shoving hands in his pockets, and coming nose to nose with three armed people.
“Right,” he said. “Hello.”
Rose blew out a breath through her nose, and gave him a look that clearly told him he was supposed to do a little more than that.
The guns, unfortunately, did not disappear.
The three figures were torn and dirtied, but there was a sharpness about them. The leader stood motionless in front of the, blue eyes sweeping quickly over Rose and the Doctor and lingering on the TARDIS. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it.
“You’d best be takin’ your hand out of your pockets, nice and slow,” he finally said. “And then you’re going to tell me what you’re doing on my boat.”
The Doctor raised his hands in the air, shifting his eyes slightly over to Rose to tell her to follow his lead.
“And right you are to be concerned. Strangers like us, milling about, bound to raise suspicions,” the Doctor said, eyes ticking from one gun to the next. Sonic screwdriver could do a lot of things; stopping gunfire was not one of them. “Well, we were just… in the neighbourhood…”
“Distress signal!” Rose blurted. “You sent one up before you crashed, yeah? Well, that’s what we’re doing. Just here to answer it.” She paused, and then added, “To help.”
Rose. Bless.
Rose’s sincerity had the desired effect, and there was a brief hesitation before the gang lowered their weapons.
“This wasn’t personal, you understand. You folk look reputable enough, but I ain’t in a position to be putting my crew’s life on the line just ‘cause you look trustworthy.”
“Seems like what we’re best at, Captain,” said the hulking man behind him.
The Captain’s eyes measured a vague tick of annoyance, but he otherwise ignored the comment.
“Honestly,” the Doctor said. “We just want to help.”
The Captain acknowledged that with a slight tilt of his head. “As you can see, we’re not exactly in a position to be turning down assistance. I’m Captain Reynolds, this is Zoe, my first mate, and Jayne… well, he ain’t so bad when he’s not talking.”
The Doctor reached out a hand, slowly withdrawing it when he was met with an unflinching stare. “Right,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m the Doctor, and this is—”
“Doctor?” Zoe interrupted coolly. “A doctor of what, exactly?”
“Just Doctor. The Doctor.”
They blinked. The Captain scratched at his chin, but it was Jayne who held up a hand. “Now, see, we’ve already go ourselves one of those,” he said. “Can we space ‘em now, Captain?”
“We’re not in space, Jayne,” the Captain said tiredly. He nodded at the Doctor to continue.
“This is Rose Tyler, my companion—”
“Companion?” the Captain interrupted, and rather suspiciously, in the Doctor’s opinion.
“Right,” he mumbled to himself. “Twenty-five hundred B.C.—the Alliance Guild, of course—” The Doctor caught Rose’s eye, and hastened to explain. “Well, when I say ‘companion,’ I mean more of a friend—well, special friend—traveler, well… not like what you’re thinking. Well, when I say not like that, what I mean is, not entirely like that.” The Doctor took a deep breath. “So, you lot crashed?”
The Captain frowned, the first mate remained expressionless, and one of Jayne’s eyebrows gave the slightest twitch.
“Engine trouble,” Zoe said.
“Pilot trouble,” Jayne said.
The Captain pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “A variety of factors. We had a… hard landing.”
The Doctor scrubbed at his chin and nodded. “You were running from something,” he said. “And given your ship, I’m going to guess it was Alliance. You couldn’t outrun them, so you crash landed to give them the slip.”
There was a flicker of annoyance in the Captain’s eyes and he moved forward, the first mate sticking close to his side. “Are you working for them?”
The Doctor made a face. “God, no,” he said, taking out his glasses, and placing them on his nose. “Do you mind if I…?”
The Captain shook his head, and the Doctor wandered idly around the cargo bay, doing a more thorough inspection than he had before. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the first mate lean over and whisper, “Sir?”
The Captain mentioned for her to stay put. Jayne fiddled nervously with his gun, and Rose twiddled her fingers in front of her, rocking back on her heels.
“So?” the Captain said, voice betraying his exhaustion.
“This ship,” the Doctor said, knocking one of the panels. “This ship is solid. Some of the best I’ve seen, outside of my TARDIS, and that’s saying something. It’s how you knew she could survive a crash. Just to give the feds a slip. You’ve got yourself stones, Captain, I’ll give you that much.”
“Ain’t going to lie to you, Doctor. The only things we’ve got of value are right here in this cargo bay.” The Captain paused, and then with great effort said, “Can you help us?”
“Depends what you call valuable,” the Doctor said, folding his glasses and putting them back in his pocket. “We’ll help you.” He found Rose’s gaze. “That’s what we do.”
***
Mal had surely had better days.
Oh, he spent a fair piece of time getting himself and his crew in various scrapes and mishaps. But even then, they usually managed to muddle their way through, always finding a way to escape the worst of the bullets.
Then came Miranda. And the Operative. And not nothing had been the same since.
Getting a job—any job—was damn near impossible, not the least problem being that most of their old contacts had been run through by the Operative’s sword. They were scraping the barrels of their food and fuel when the Alliance finally caught up to them.
It was River’s idea to fake their deaths.
Better than the alternative, Mal figured, but not by much. Whoever these people were, he didn’t much like the way they were grinning at each other, seemingly amused by the thought of an adventure. At his expense. And his crew.
The Doctor finally tore his gaze away from his companion. “How many onboard? They’re all accounted for?”
Mal felt more than saw Zoe’s steely glare.
“Doctor, I’m more than capable of looking out for my own crew,” he said evenly.
The Doctor tugged on one of his ears, and held up his other hand as an apology. “Right, course you can.”
“There’s seven of us,” Zoe answered. “Some of us are more banged up than others. We have an infirmary.”
“But everyone’s okay?” Rose said. “Nobody got hurt?”
“We’ve got a doctor of our own,” Mal said. His eyes ticked to the blue box sitting prettily in his cargo bay. He narrowed his eyes, barely making out the words in the harsh, green lighting. Police Public Call Box. Of all the strange things he’d seen…
The Doctor followed his gaze. “Never mind that. Piece of junk. Space junk. Anyway, chop, chop—ship to fix, people to save, time to get a move on. Anyplace better we can go to talk?”
“Galley,” Zoe said, glancing at Mal. “At least it’s got heat. More’n the rest of her’s got.”
She re-holstered her gun, appearing ready to accept the presence of the Doctor and Rose, at least for the time being.
“Jayne, check on the others,” Mal said. “Tell ‘em we’re meeting in the galley.”
Rose came forward, hands linked in front of her. “I promise you won’t regret this.”
Mal eyed her for a moment, and finally tilted his head. “This way.”
Rose waited for the Doctor to catch up to her, and they followed behind, conversing in low voices.
“Firefly class,” Rose said. She deepened her voice. “Firefly class. Got a ring to it, don’t you think?”
“Suppose so.”
“And what was all that about? What did they think you meant, me being your companion?”
The Doctor dropped his voice. “They think we’re shagging.”
“They think we’re what?”
Mal sighed, and whispered to Zoe, “This is going to go great.”