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The Fifth Doctor met the Sixth Doctor for the first time on the planet Jamosidil X. Strictly speaking, he wasn't supposed to encounter himself ever, but it still happened on occasion.

He wasn't even the first to notice the strange man. Nyssa was. She, the Doctor, and Tegan were strolling among the vendor stalls in an atypically quiet, relaxing market when it happened.

Nyssa grabbed the Doctor's sleeve and hissed, "That man over there, to the right--he's following us."

Tegan, bypassing discretion, immediately turned her head to stare in the indicated direction. "The man in the clown costume?"

The Doctor looked, too. "Oh, shit," he said faintly.

"Doctor!" Nyssa stared in shock at the profanity.

"Yes, well, never mind about that," he said quickly. "If you and Tegan would just go back to the TARDIS, I'll sort this matter out and join you shortly."

Tegan looked ready to argue but at the look on the Doctor's face, she wisely snapped her mouth shut and allowed Nyssa to lead her away.

When he was certain they were safely gone, the Doctor struck out for the last spot where he had seen the odd man standing. Although the fellow was no longer there, the Doctor had a sneaking suspicion as to where he could find him. He turned the next corner and his hearts sank as he spotted the TARDIS standing beside a large hut. It wasn't his TARDIS, though. His TARDIS was on the other side of the town.

Squaring his shoulders, he marched up to the door. Before he could so much as tap on it, it flew open and a strong arm pulled him inside.

The door closed behind the Doctor. The clown faced him. He wore a patchwork coat of blinding colours that made him look like a deranged circus escapee, though he seemed not to realise this fact. When he smiled at the Doctor, it was almost more like he was baring his teeth than welcoming him. "Don't worry, we can talk freely. Peri is out."

"Who?" the Doctor said in confusion.

The other man shook his head. "You'll find out, in time."

"Well, obviously you are me," the Doctor said, still staring at the man whose TARDIS he had entered. His gaze took in the garish coat and the tabby cat badge on the other Doctor's lapel. "Rassilon, what was I thinking? Or rather, what am I going to be thinking?"

The future Doctor snorted. "You shouldn't scoff. I never did think much of your version of me. You were always too weak, indecisive, unmemorable." And he spared a disdainful look for his counterpart's cricket outfit and the celery on his lapel.

The Fifth Doctor retorted, "I really have let myself go lately, haven't I?" This time his gaze strayed to the clownish Doctor's ample midsection.

The other Doctor continued as if he hadn't heard those words. "You are pretty, though. In a bland way, of course." He reached toward the younger Doctor, who batted his hand away. "Oho! Touched a nerve, did I?"

"Which one of me are you?" the Fifth Doctor demanded, taking a step back. "I've already met everyone except Thirteen and--"

"Your immediate successor," the Sixth Doctor said with more than a bit of relish.

The Fifth Doctor winced. "How did I go so wrong, so quickly? And if I had to run into one of me, why couldn't it have been my eighth self?" He smiled fondly. "Now, there's a nice me."

The older Doctor scowled. "Ah, yes, everyone likes Eight. He's so innocent and likeable, and with his bad memory you can tell him anything and he believes it. Or do anything to him, and he always forgets it. Not that I would know anything about such reprehensible behaviour," he hastily added.

"Or my twelfth self would have been good," the Fifth Doctor went on. "Such a kind, well-mannered fellow. Gentle hands, too."

"Haven't had the pleasure yet." The Sixth Doctor scowled again. "You certainly get around, though."

"Speaking of which." The Fifth Doctor eyed him chidingly. "You know better than to let my companions see you."

"I don't follow those petty rules."

The Fifth Doctor rolled his eyes. "Wonderful. So you're a maverick."

The other Doctor shrugged. "Someone has to make up for boring, by-the-books you. Though I suppose you're better than no one."

"Ah, so that's why you're here." The younger Doctor cocked his head, considering. "You're far from my first choice, but then again, beggars can't be choosers. And I run into myself so seldom, I should take advantage of every opportunity."

"Well, we can't all be Eight, or Twelve. Or even Seven or Nine," the Sixth Doctor pointed out. "Though even you must admit, I'm a vast improvement over Eleven and--"

"You talk too much," the Fifth Doctor interrupted, pulling the other version of himself close. "You also wear too many clothes," he added as he pawed off the older Doctor's coat.

"A common failing," retorted the Sixth Doctor, working on the Fifth's many layers. "Our tenth self still hasn't learned any better."

"His oral fixation more than makes up for it," replied the Fifth Doctor with a grin that quickly faded. "On the other hand, I have yet to discover if you possess any redeeming characteristics." His voice suddenly cracked out like a whip. "On your knees!"

Immediately, the Sixth Doctor dropped to the floor. When he realised what he had reflexively done, he frowned mightily. "Why don't I ever get to be the one in charge?"

"You wear a cat badge on your lapel," pointed out the Fifth Doctor as he continued to strip. "It makes it impossible to take you seriously."

"Oh, and what about that celery that you--" the Sixth Doctor began indignantly, but he was then too busy with other matters to mount any sort of defence.

Half an hour later, the Fifth Doctor emerged from the TARDIS, patting his crumpled celery and smoothing his hair back into place. He set off at a brisk pace toward the location of his own TARDIS, hoping Tegan and Nyssa hadn't managed to get themselves into trouble during his absence. Even if they had, though, it had been worth it. His sixth self did indeed have a few redeeming qualities that would make any future run-ins quite enjoyable.

The Doctor's grin widened as he wondered if the mystery companion, Peri, would return to the other TARDIS before the Sixth Doctor managed to untie himself. If so, he would have a lot of explaining to do at some point in the future. The Doctor began to whistle as he walked along, already coming up with excuses for that day.