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"This is a queer sort of pub for the TARDIS to land under," Jamie observed as he sipped his ginger ale. They'd spent a good deal of the last sixteen hours running from first alligators, then Cybermen in the sewers—the less said about that the better—and Jamie had insisted they stop to get a drink before sneaking down to the pub's cellar where the TARDIS was hid. They had, he felt, earned it.
"Yes, Jamie," the Doctor said, frowning at his own glass. "It is."
"In fact," Jamie whispered conspiratorially, "I think some of these lasses are actually boys in frocks. Though I've no idea why they'd go a-wandering like that."
"Of course not," said the Doctor said dryly, glancing down at Jamie's kilt.
Jamie scowled. "'Tisn't the same thing and you know it."
The Doctor wasn't listening. Damn him. He'd been distracted ever since they'd set foot in the pub again.
Was it because of the pub? When they'd snuck out that morning, the Doctor had got one of his knowing expressions upon seeing the sign. He hadn't told Jamie why, but Jamie wasn't so sure if that wasn't a good thing. The Doctor could be quite long-winded when it came to subjects he was interested in.
"I think we ought to leave now," said the Doctor quietly. "It's getting late."
"Since when is midnight late?" Jamie snorted softly. Did the Doctor think he was a child? "I don't know what's up, Doctor, but there's something you aren't telling me." He looked straight at the Doctor. "And I thought you were going to stop that. Maybe I ought to have left with Victoria."
The Doctor flinched.
It was a low blow and Jamie knew it. He wasn't sure if he cared. The Doctor had been acting queerly around him all evening—and truth be told, he'd been acting queerly before that as well. Jamie was getting more than a wee bit annoyed with him.
"All right," the Doctor said after a long moment. "We need to leave, Jamie, because in a little less than an hour there will be policemen paying this pub an unexpected visit—or rather raid—and quite soon after that there will be a riot."
Jamie frowned. They'd been in riots before. "I don't understand."
"You wouldn't want to get involved," said the Doctor. He looked away. "In fact—and please don't take this badly, Jamie—I'm not sure if you wouldn't approve of our friends on the police force." The thought seemed to bother him.
Jamie found himself feeling offended and he still didn't understand what the Doctor was talking about. In fact, he said as much, even though that was the one thing never to do around the Doctor, unless you wanted him to talk your leg off.
The Doctor sighed. "This is a gay bar, Jamie."
Jamie glanced around. "Oh, aye. I can see that they're enjoying themselves, Doctor."
"What I mean," said the Doctor, talking quickly—as if this were something he wanted to get over as soon as possible. "Jamie, what I mean is that the clientèle at this establishment is made out of...oh dear, I'm not quite sure of the terminology these days. Homosexuals—or is it still homophiles? Now, I definitely know it isn't still Uranians—"
Jamie interrupted him: "And what are they when they're at home?" Trust the Doctor to get all caught up in what something was called and never get to the point of a thing.
"They're men, Jamie," said the Doctor, quite flustered. "Men who love other men. And women who love other women, of course, though it's mostly men here."
Jamie blinked. "Is that all?"
The Doctor was staring at him. "You don't care?"
"Well," said Jamie, "isn't that what we are?"
The Doctor had a queer look on his face again. "No, Jamie. It's not the same."
Jamie snorted. "How isn't it the same?"
"Because," the Doctor said impatiently, "they love each other in a very intimate, physical way. Do you understand or should I draw you a diagram?"
"Oh," said Jamie knowingly. "They're buggerers, then."
"Yes," said the Doctor, sighing softly. "Yes, they are. Now, we really need to leave now. The police will be here any minute."
"No," said Jamie.
The Doctor blinked. "No?"
Jamie shrugged. "Just because they're a lot of buggerers doesn't mean we ought to leave them to fight on their own."
Another one of those odd looks passed across the Doctor's features, this one almost seeming something like...pride? Yes, pride—and something else, something Jamie still didn't understand. After a long moment, the Doctor smiled. "No, Jamie," he said. "It doesn't."
The Doctor was singing the song from the riot under his breath as they climbed down the cellar stairs:
"We are the Stonewall Girls, we wear our hair in curls, we wear no underwear..."
Jamie snorted. "That's a lie. I've seen your drawers in the TARDIS laundry."
"Well, I certainly haven't seen yours," the Doctor said and went back to his song: "We wear our dungarees above our nelly knees!"
"It's traditional," said Jamie. "You'd know if you'd ever worn a kilt."
The Doctor chucked. "Do you think I should?"
"I don't think so," said Jamie. "You're too English."
"You know, I'm not really," said the Doctor. "Oh, I like it best of all countries on your planet, but it's still your planet. Not mine."
"I know," said Jamie. "I do listen when you say things, even if most of it is a lot of foolishness."
He nearly tripped at the bottom of the stairs. The Doctor's hands were there to steady him. "Any regrets?" the Doctor asked quietly.
Jamie shook his head. "None," he said. "Just...will they be all right?"
"There will be another riot tomorrow night," the Doctor said quietly. "And then another. But yes, Jamie. They'll be all right. Tonight was a turning point in history. The events we just took part in will be the catalyst for the gay rights movement."
"Oh, aye," said Jamie. "Another one of those turning points, then."
"The TARDIS seems to enjoy them," said the Doctor. "I suppose the old girl craves excitement."
"I suppose so," said Jamie agreeably. "I could have done without the black eye, though."
The Doctor chuckled. "Yes, we'll have to find you a steak for that. I could do with some antiseptic myself."
They walked on for a while in silence, then. It was Jamie who finally broke it:
"Doctor?"
"Yes, Jamie?"
"You know you were trying to explain things before—about men loving other men—and I said it was like us and you said it wasn't."
"I remember, Jamie."
Jamie took a deep breath. "Are you sure it isn't like us?"
"No," said the Doctor softly. "I'm not sure at all anymore."
"Well, then," said Jamie, taking the Doctor's hand.
Hand-in-hand together, they made their way to the TARDIS.