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.