Hello, Old Friend, by Andrew Lawston
 

"What do you want?"

 The Doctor looked up, and squinted at the sleazy-looking young man before him. Then he shrugged. "A black coffee and a chocolate croissant, if you would, please, and can you tell me where I might find the library?"

 The man looked disappointed, and the Doctor wondered vaguely how he had offended. This station was a wonderful structure, but everyone in it seemed unable to hold a simple conversation. He'd been trying all day to find his way to the library and, when this man had approached him, had been making a list of the cryptic responses he had gained.

 Seeing he was distracted, the young man tried again. "No, what do you want?" he seemed to have followed the Doctor's line of thought, and was trying his best not to look like a waiter.

 The Doctor gave up and waved his piece of paper. "I need some help putting a few names to faces?"

 The waiter sighed, but sat down heavily, muttering, "Why not?" The Doctor removed his panama and perched it on top of his umbrella's odd handle. Clearing his throat, he began.

 "Things people said to me when I asked them how to get to the library, by the Doctor," he paused to give a brief smile of introduction. "First. 'Through fire'. Who would that be?"

 "Kosh. Vorlon ambassador," the other man said without hesitation. The Doctor scribbled it down before continuing.

 "Second. A tall man, looked important. Said, 'Hello, old friend. You will find that which you seek,' and wandered off. Someone suggested that might be Commander Sinclair. The third just wanted to ask about my young companion,"

 "Zack Allen." the man interrupted. The Doctor frowned, but made a note anyway. Then he appeared to change the subject, and stared at his new friend.

 "You're very well-informed, Mr... ?"

 "Morden."

 "Morden..." The Doctor noted it down meticulously. "Ninth. 'What do you want?' Mr. Morden the waiter" - he glowered as Morden flushed - "or do you prefer Mr. Morden the human agent of a chaotic power from the dawn of time?"

* * *
Two minutes later, Morden returned with a chocolate croissant and two cups of black coffee. He became even more dejected when the Doctor politely offered half his chocolate croissant to Morden's 'invisible friends'. His two Shadow escorts wandered away towards a pinball machine, from where he could just hear them chittering with confusion.

 "Somewhere here is the one I must find," he told the Doctor quietly. "My associates are extremely patient, but this time they are anxious to begin the game ahead of the Vorlons."

 The Doctor nodded, smiling again at the latent mysticisms that dogged everyone's speech here. Then he stared straight into the depths of Morden's soul and whispered. "And what do you want?"

 As Morden winced and tried to think of a suitably smooth rejoinder, the Doctor closed his eyes and watched the man's whole timeline unravelling before him. Manipulation, terror, sudden pain, regeneration, desolation, defeat and final humiliation. The amount of empathy the Doctor could have felt for this corrupted creature was startling.

 He broke the moment first, finishing his croissant and standing, sending showers of flaky pastry over the table.

 "Good luck," he said briskly. "I have to meet my young friend Ace. She's down below roasting marshmallows, I believe. Care to join us?" On a nasty whim he proffered a wooden skewer to Morden, and smiled as the man shrank back.

 "Thank you, Doctor, no, I am not entirely comfortable around sharpened pieces of wood."

 "Probably quite wise. Just a thought, by the way: 'eighth. 'How all my political scheming wound me up on this horrible station with vagrants like you constantly bothering me with questions, I shall never know! Vir, send him away!' Short, portly man, huge quiff.' Helpful?"

 Morden smiled, his confidence returning. "Extremely, Doctor. We shall see you again." Now as composed as ever, he strode towards the café's exit, his escort falling in beside him as he passed. The Doctor smirked at his back. Then he too left.

* * *

They met in the corridors, the Time Lord and the Vorlon. In the strange lighting, the Doctor's white jacket glowed like a beacon. The air between the two boiled with passions and possibilities, until finally the Doctor spoke.

 "It is done."

 The Vorlon twitched its encounter suit a few times before replying. "What you seek."

 The Doctor screwed up his face into its most ominous scowl. "In the heart of Morden, where the Shadows are," he spat.

 Kosh actually seemed confused, unable to place the reference. The Doctor left, smug.

FIN