24: Almost Murder in Texas

Shakira and Lawrence kissed as they entered her TARDIS. They had just been out together, which involved crashing a ball on some kind of Italian cruise liner in outer space after some legitimate dinner in a restaurant that condoned their presence. Lawrence had shown her some of the European ballroom dances, and they danced for a few hours before deciding to head home. However, they weren’t tired because Lawrence being Italian and Shakira being Muslim (and therefore forbidden from alcohol) meant they were still coming off a caffeine high. “That was wonderful!” Shakira said as she entered the co-ordinates for their home.

“I’m still trying to get it through my head that we were on a cruise ship in space! In here you don’t really see where you’re going”, Lawrence replied, then looked around as the TARDIS shook. “What’s that?”

“I don’t know, maybe it is safe to assume that my TARDIS has other ideas besides going home.” Shakira was right, as once they stepped out to look around, something shocking was there to greet her. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!” she screamed, not caring about who could hear. It was one of hers – not just any of them, but Joan, another version of Farrah – lying in a hospital bed, physically wracked by some unknown thing.

“I thought we were supposed to keep calm around our patients!” Lawrence whispered. Shakira whispered back, “Says the one who spent years poisoning people!” and approached Joan. “Salaam aleikum sweetie, what is wrong?”

“I don’t know, I just –“ she turned away to throw up again. Shakira took out her sonic screwdriver, which she had just updated to detect acute poisoning, and used it to scan Joan, who wasn’t unfamiliar with her alien technology.

“She has been poisoned!” Shakira announced, and fixed her eyes on Joan’s husband, who was looking very guilty.

“I didn’t do it!” he protested.

“I have lie detection software on this too, and it does not agree with your denial!” she retorted. “Lawrence, grab him and shut him in a closet once we are inside my TARDIS, I will take care of Joan.” Shakira helped Joan stand up, and half-carried her while letting her walk as best as she could; Lawrence held her now ex-husband in something resembling a wrestling hold he remembered from high school.

“Come on sweetheart”, Shakira said as she took Joan to the bed in her TARDIS’ medical office, and brushed her hair back with her fingers before rushing to find the antidote. Joan had been poisoned by morphine, something all doctors had easy access to, so Shakira was going to counteract it with atropine. After much searching (for her liking), she found the small bottle of atropine on the shelf of antidotes, and quickly dived in to the drawer where she kept the hypodermic needles – while Joan only needed a small amount, it had to be injected or else its effects would begin to appear too late. “Come here, give me your arm”, she said softly, then injected the necessary amount of antidote. As soon as she disposed of the needle, she sat on the bed and held Joan, fearing for her patient’s life until she could feel her beginning to breathe deeper, and relaxing instead of trying not to vomit. Joan was recovering, and was now breathing as deep as she should, but gasping as if she had almost drowned. Shakira placed her on her left side and stroked her back. “Do you have anywhere else you can go? You cannot go back to your husband if he tried to kill you.”

“I can go back to my daddy”, she answered, barely loud enough for Shakira to hear, and continued, “hey…maybe someday I could be a doctor like you” and ran her finger over Shakira’s hijab.

“I think you could do anything that you set your mind to”, Shakira replied, taking her hand, and then yelled out to the bastard in her console room’s closet: “I AM SENDING YOU TO STORMCAGE CONTAINMENT FACILITY FOR WHAT YOU DID! IF THEY DEEM YOU NOT EVIL ENOUGH THEN SENDING YOU BACK TO THIS TIME IS THEIR JOB AND NOT MINE!”

Joan looked up at her. “What’s Stormcage?”

“Stormcage is a maximum security prison from another time and place. They can send him back here if or when they release him, but I’m sure attempted murder is deemed unacceptable.” She slipped a monitor around Joan’s wrist, and a pulse oximeter over her fingers, then removed a pager from the side of the machine. “I have to send him there now, but if you are in trouble this will tell me”, she explained. Shakira entered her TARDIS’ console room, and then Lawrence told her, “He’s in here”, pointing to the storage closet. He opened the door, and Joan’s husband stumbled out, shouting “WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM YOU FUCKING VIGILANTE ASSHOLES?” while Shakira and Lawrence tied him up. Lawrence then wrote ‘I’m a sneaky asshole who tried to murder my wife and I deserve everything I get’ on a piece of paper and taped it to the rope. Shakira piloted her TARDIS to Stormcage, though it was rough and the floor shook, only Joan’s (ex) husband fell over and she didn’t get a false alarm from the pager that would indicate Joan falling out of bed and the monitor coming loose. She landed them all in Stormcage’s front office, so she and Lawrence could unceremoniously dump him outside. “THIS BASTARD TRIED TO MURDER HIS WIFE!” Lawrence yelled out, while Shakira said something similar, which attracted the attention of a guard.

“Well then, you’ve done the right thing in sending him here!” the guard replied, and just as he began to ask “Wait, aren’t you-?”, Shakira locked the doors so they could make their way home. There was no way that she would let herself be identified as That History Altering Bitch in a maximum security prison! Joan was staying with them for the night, as she still needed to be watched and cared for, but really, everything was alright now, as the murder in Texas that was meant to take place had been averted and a very special woman was about to start a new life.

15: Shakira is Not Amused

Shakira sat with her laptop and nothing better to do than waste time. For several reasons, including a pregnancy scare, Jill Munroe had an endometrial ablation that day, so Shakira was just waiting for her to wake up. Saghira offered to help, because she was getting really bored of being a housewife, but had to call her cousin Fawzia, who was going to help her start her career as a beauty therapist. I wonder what this “fanfiction” thing is, Shakira thought, and decided to read some from Farrah’s Earth, where Jill was seen as purely fictional. She found a whole series of Charlie’s Angels stories from some Swedish woman with an unpronounceable username, and started to read from the first instalment. ‘What is this? Jill, pregnant? Oh come on!’ she thought, and chose to review the thing.
“Part of writing well is keeping your characters in character! This, however is not in character! Jill would not get herself pregnant. For years she has come to me for help with avoiding pregnancy. Many times she has told me how much she wants to avoid having a baby! What the hell is your problem? Like me, she is CHILDFREE. If that is not in any published dictionary, look it up on the internet. Like me, she does not want to lose her freedom by having children because of the loss of independence which is NOT ALWAYS temporary! Why would you clip her wings by getting her pregnant? I know her and she would be complaining constantly about not being able to play tennis and all the other things she is always doing, so she would get very annoying very quickly.
PS Your grammar is terrible and yes my TARDIS translator is working perfectly.
She hit ‘post comment’, not caring about whether or not it would stay in English or turn to the Spanish she wrote it in, but whatever, it was a common language on Earth too. Admittedly, the other stories in the series were quite cute and funny, but Jill becoming a mother was too out of character. After reading some poorly-written slashfic about Kelly and Sabrina and searching the meaning of “OTP”, Shakira found another story that seemed interesting. It was called “Divinity”, written by a “glambothefirst”; while it was a long story already, the 9-chapter tale was still incomplete, but the bored doctor was curious. She actually enjoyed the story, and was quite wrapped up in it, until the end of the last chapter…
“What the fuck?” she said out loud. It sounded like Jill had died at the end of chapter 9, and Shakira was not having any of it. Sure it was just a fanfiction, but she was in a bad mood. This was partly because the surgery she had just performed was incredibly tedious on account of how repetitive it was, all it involved was burning off endometrial lining – not just in the uterus where it belongs but in inappropriate/fucked up places outside of it, and partly because her parents were being annoying. They wanted her to marry Lawrence RIGHT NOW instead of in a year or two, because they knew his life was in danger and because they wanted grandchildren from her. Theran women lose their ability to get pregnant once they turn 100, and Shakira is 99 –she does not have to worry about menopause, however, because their ovaries only produce hormones specific to pregnancy – but even though around 1 in 5 infertile Theran women gain the ability to impregnate men, her parents thought this was ‘unnatural’ and wanted children from her *specifically*. Before Shakira landed in Jill’s house, she was with Farrah, as the blonde was meant to have another IV vitamin C infusion since it was the best thing for her decimated immune system. Shakira was going to read to her, as she often did, but her phone rang, and upon answering the call she was met with half an hour of parental harassment. Lawrence was getting harassed by his mother too, but it didn’t make her feel any better about it. Once again, she took out her frustrations on random internet strangers who may or may not even read her bitching.
WHY THE FUCK DID YOU KILL OFF JILL????? If that happened to her in real life, I would go back to make sure it never happened in the “real” timeline! I would stop the evil operations of the so-called nurses with Sontaran weaponry (Ursula would let me use some of her father’s) and a one-way ticket to Stormcage or some other jail, then I would meet Jill and Kelly there. Why? Because NO ONE AND NOTHING is allowed to murder Jill or Farrah or any of the other versions of them under MY care. I forbid it!
She hit ‘post comment’ again, and tried to look for another actually good story. Unfortunately, the one she noticed was highly unlikely to be well-written. The description read: ‘LOL im on a conspiracy form n they r sayin that farrah fawcett doesnt have cancer n she has nu doktas nao so i wunted 2 ship dem cuz i seen themon youtube n stuff Lol.’ WHAT IS THIS?, Shakira thought, and clicked on this one out of curiosity. It was horrifying. This is the last one then I am reading good stories only.
I am completely disgusted by whatever this thing is! THIS IS NOT A G RATED STORY! That is the most idiotic plot (what plot is there?) I have ever read! NO I will not perform anatomically impossible sex acts with Dr Vogl and there IS NO WAY that Farrah and Ursula would ever do those things together as they are both straight! I have no problem with female/female pairings but explicit sex involving real people is several varieties of wrong!
This is the worst story I have read here and that is saying something. I hate your grammar, spelling, punctuation (where?) and worst of all the plot of this ‘slashfic’. Become literate but don’t even think about writing fanfiction again!
Just as she had posted her review, she felt Jill’s fingers brush against her arm.
“Where am I?” Shakira could barely hear this, but she read her lips.
“Me and Saghira carried you to your bed…everything went perfectly.” She sat on Jill’s bed and held her, as she was also friends with her, and forgot all about the poorly-skilled writers she had encountered. It didn’t take long for Jill to start acting like herself again, and soon Shakira and Saghira left her with her Police Academy friends, Sabrina and Kelly.

14: Emergency

Shakira sat on the balcony of her penthouse apartment, sipping peppermint tea and watching the sun setting over the mountains. She loved her home, but was grateful that she and her sister could use one of their TARDISes to get to any beach on Thera in several seconds, as she also loved the ocean but lived too far inland to drive there.
Suddenly, her phone rang, and identified the caller as ‘Farrah’. “Salaam aleikum…what? Lawrence? What do you mean Farrah is hurt? I will be there right away!” Finishing her tea as fast as possible, Shakira hurried to her TARDIS as her heart raced, despite time being of no relevance. She connected her phone to the TARDIS console to provide the co-ordinates of her last caller, and proceeded to fly her TARDIS back four years into a faraway galaxy. It was unusual for her to ignore the beauty of the time vortex (which was only beautiful from the safety of her TARDIS, behind the viewing window), but these were unusual circumstances. Once she landed, she habitually threw her dupatta around her head; even though she was never the hijabi her sister always was, she felt awkward without her hair covered and so only worked as a professional belly dancer in women-only clubs and suchlike and only went swimming in private areas unless she borrowed her sister’s swimsuits. She opened the doors, this time leaving her TARDIS on so Farrah didn’t have to translate for her, and encountered a familiar blonde. “Alana? What the fuck, I was told you were behind Farrah’s legal rights being taken!”
“No! That was a lie they spread to hurt her!”
“Where is Ryan? I suppose he is innocent too?” I still don’t like him, Shakira thought.
“They were telling the truth about him. He’s easily bribed.”
“Is he too much of an attention seeker to give up his post as tragic carer and victim of one of his movies turning into a reality?”
“Yeah that’s about it.”
Shakira rolled her eyes, locked her TARDIS and rushed over to her friend, who was being cradled by Lawrence.
“What happened?” she asked, stroking Farrah’s hair.
“I just tripped over, and I landed on my arm and it broke” she said through tears.
“I’m sure it’s from the chemo…it’s my fault, all of this is” Lawrence said.
“No it’s not!” Alana told him, “you had no choice, it’s all you were taught at college and it’s all you’re allowed to do because of big business’s power.”
His angst session was interrupted by a car stopping just outside Farrah’s house, and two time/space ships that appeared to be 1950’s cars landing on the roof. “Hey! I got your call! Is she alright?” Dex asked from outside, while Strawberry and Ursula stood at the door to the roof asking something similar. Alana let them in, and Lawrence said to all of them, “Wow, I didn’t expect you all to be available; I was just calling everyone because I know you’re all busy and I hoped one of you could come over.”
“We can time travel you know! I didn’t come here straight away”, answered Strawberry.
“I got your message several hours ago when I was still at work” Ursula added.
“Okay…..I’m confused.”
“Aw, get used to it!” Strawberry said. “What are we gonna do? I don’t have any of my stuff and neither does Ursula.”
“I have all my medical things in my TARDIS, I can inject stem cells into the fracture and have it healed in two or three days, but I don’t have an operating theatre in there so she does need to go to the hospital.”
“Isn’t that a little dangerous for us?” Alana asked, remembering what happened last time.
“I can fight, I am half Sontaran, remember?” Ursula announced.
“What’s a Sontaran?” Alana had never heard of one before.
“Sontarans are a proud warrior race, my father used to fight for them.” They all entered Shakira’s TARDIS, and she quickly flew her ship to the hospital and landed it in the same patch of grass that she parked it when she first saved Farrah. “I don’t think I can walk that far”, the blonde said. Shakira answered this by leaving the room and coming back with a stretcher and a box of cotton buds, saying “You can lie on this if you want, and I need a DNA sample so I can get stem cells from my architectural reconfiguration system.” She disappeared again, after Farrah had swabbed the inside of her cheek with one of the buds, into the depths of her TARDIS to the architectural reconfiguration system’s room.
Hello Shakira, the ARS said in an ethereal voice. It was a tree-like machine with glowing orbs and tentacles hanging off of its branches, with the orbs emitting a blue light.
“Salaam aleikum, I need mesenchymal stem cells with this DNA”, she answered, handing the swab over to the ARS, which took it in its’ tentacle-like ‘arms’ and then engulfed it into one of its orbs.
Is it the DNA of the blonde human?
“Yes it is.”
And you will be requiring a sterile container for these?
“Yes thankyou.” The ARS soon finished its’ work, and then gave Shakira a small jar containing millions of stem cells sitting in a jelly-like solution to sustain them. Shakira thanked the ARS, then left to quickly grab a laser scalpel, instant healer, set of degradable scaffold, cannabis oil of the indica strain, other medical supplies and her pink gun for protection, along with a bag to keep it all in. Sure, carrying a pink gun while wearing a pink salwar kameez made her look like a 70’s Afghan Barbie, but she honestly didn’t care. “Here I am!” she announced once she returned to the console room. “Farrah you should have some of this, it will keep the pain away”, she said, handing her the oil, which Farrah took a higher than usual dose of. It wasn’t psychoactive, at least not to her because she was already tolerant to it, but it would stop the pain and make her fall asleep.
“Do we have to take the fire stairs again?” Alana asked as Shakira locked her TARDIS.
“To get in? Yes, but I have a better idea”, Lawrence answered.
“And what would that be?” Shakira questioned him. She and Dex were no longer attracted to each other, but she was beginning to find Lawrence surprisingly sexy.
“The service elevator!” he said, smiling.
No travelling up stairs was required as they quickly took the fire corridor and service elevator to an empty operating theatre.
“You know this place inside out….I should have known all this stuff!” said Dex.
“You should have spent more time with your glasses on”, the blue-eyed doctor retorted. “Hey Strawberry, I thought you guys were betting on whether or not he’s just as attractive to the ladies with his glasses on?”
“Umm…..no, we didn’t do that.”
“Aww! I wanted to see him lose money!”
She paused. “Why?”
“Because it’s funny!”
“Hey! That’s….no wait you’re right”, Strawberry said, then laughed. They all got to the operating theatre in one piece, then Shakira sprayed them with antiseptics, put on her scrubs and sprayed herself and all her stuff. She gave Farrah a block anaesthetic because she was already sleeping and she wanted to use as little drugs as possible. “That is terrible!” she exclaimed as she could finally see how bad the break in her friend’s arm really was. Dex was assisting her, while the others guarded the room and Alana rolled her eyes at how much she felt like a Barbie doll while holding Shakira’s gun. Shakira carefully surrounded the breaks in Farrah’s arm with the degradable scaffolding, and filled these fractures with stem cells that would soon heal them as if they were never there. As she sealed her arm back together, she announced: “I am done here now!” and gently put her friend’s arm in a sling so she wouldn’t inappropriately move it.
“Good, now we can get out of here. I don’t wanna get caught, and Shakira you’re lucky to be a freelancer, you can do what you want, I should have thought of that a long time ago.” And so beautiful in so many ways…wait what am I thinking? She hit me! They ran to the service lifts, then impatiently waited for it to take them back to the ground floor so they could race through the fire stairs and back to Shakira’s TARDIS. However, when they reached the door, an unpleasant surprise greeted them.
“The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair, who can stay with us and tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares”, Sarah-Jane Smith said.
“FUCK NO!” All of Farrah’s doctors said in unison, and then stared at each other because of how weird that was. They then left, except for Shakira and Ursula.
“What the fuck is your problem?” asked Shakira.
“You’re all irresponsible, why can’t you accept things as they are?” Sarah-Jane asked.
“Because they were not acceptable!” yelled Ursula.
Unfortunately, Ms Smith had them right where certain people wanted them. Two cars raced in out of nowhere, aiming themselves for Shakira and Ursula, as Sarah-Jane got out of the way. “FUCKSOCKS!” Shakira screamed, then, thinking fast, pulled out her pink gun and shot the tyres of the first car. “SHIT I AM OUT OF BULLETS! I should have refilled it before I left!” she yelled.
“It’s okay!” Ursula reassured her, then pulled out a grenade from her handbag and screamed “SONTAR-HA!!” as she threw it at the second car, incapacitating it as the back half was left in pieces. They then ran back to where Shakira hid her TARDIS, and she asked Ursula, “Why do you carry grenades?”
“My father Strax always said to never go anywhere without spare grenades, as I never know when I might need one!”
“Are you guys alright?” Lawrence asked when they got back. “We saw everything!”
“We are safe now”, Ursula said, as Shakira unlocked her TARDIS.
“Come, let’s get inside…where is it you want to go?”
Farrah wanted to spend the night at her house in Los Angeles, so she did, with everyone there to protect her, because that’s what friends do, and they were worried and wanted to help her while she recovered.
In the middle of the night, both Shakira and Lawrence found each other on the roof.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.
“I cannot yet”, she answered. “The only way the Time Lord police can find me is if that bitch tells them anything, but I’m sure she thinks I’m dead.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re alive”, he said, his blue eyes and highlights shining in the light of the full moon as he moved closer.
“So am I”, she replied, then looked up at him, and they kissed for the first time.

A/N: Well that was longer than usual. I got the idea after I saw photos of Farrah with her arm in a cast, and thought, ‘what would Shakira do?’