kinda an autobiographical Life on Mars fic thing
Title: Sam Tyler and the I-don't-even-know-what-colour-that-is Wallpaper
Summary: yep, writing essays on how madness is represented in a novel... it's enough to drive a student crazy
Pairing: quite a few. Mainly me drooling over Liz White but there's a bit of Gene/Sam too
Rating: psychedelic Cortina, urm, I dunno. Bit of swearing and a bit of sexuality hinted at, but this should not be read by any sane human being.
Word Count: Frustratingly, just under 2500!
Disclaimer: Bwahahahaha... erm, nope, not mine
AN: Written for the 'Unreliable Narrator' challenge. I would have posted this earlier but I was suffering from a bout of depression. Rather ironic now that I think about it.
Sam Tyler and the I-don't-even-know-what-colour-that-is Wallpaper
I put down the novel, knowing the essay is due in on Monday but not really caring any more. It's a crazy book anyway and I've no idea how I'm gonna write 2500 words on it. I am seriously tempted just to have the phrase: all 'the Yellow Wallpaper' and no 'Life on Mars' makes Maria a crazy girl; just repeat it over and over for the whole essay but I don't think they'd accept that.
Grr, essays are stupid!!! I've got two due in on Monday and I can't even be bothered to get out of bed, let alone do any work! I force myself to watch 'Calender Girls' and when the only response I can muster is a raised eyebrow and a huff of breath out through my nose (it was supposed to be a laugh) I know I'm screwed. Seriously, If Philip Glenister were to walk into my room right now I probably wouldn't have the strength to wave hi, let alone hug him senseless. Now that is a scary and depressing thought.
*growls* I can't even thinking about the essays right now, 5000 words seems like a mountain and I don't even have the strength to climb a stair. But I'm not thinking about it. I just need to improve my mood and the essays will follow (after I've failed the two modules, the essays being 50% of the final grade for each), no, I'm not thinking about... dammit.
Fine. I give in. My laptop is on, it's been on for the past week, the blank page of Word teasing me and I've finally had enough. So I minimise Word and open my Life on Mars series 1 folder, click 'play all' before collapsing back down on my mattress. I'm listening to it but I'm not really watching it and I must be bad 'cos I know how hot Gene is but I can't even lift my head to look. Thoughts of fanfiction flickering through my mind but they're only fleeting, thoughts of essays mock me but I know they're there but it feels like trying to nail jelly to the wall.
So with a big sigh and an enormous amount of effort I force myself to sit up and stare at my laptop, preparing to switch the window from Windows Media Player to Word, but something stops me. Sam has just entered his apartment for the very first time. I'm not listening to him try and interact with Annie (I am SO not a Sam/Annie shipper. More of a Gene/Annie shipper but keep that to yourself, eh? We all have our guilty secrets) but for the first time I'm truly noticing the hideousness of that... place.
And it's not just the small bed (that's about to give a headache to the leagues of Sam/Gene shippers out there), or the awful furniture, or even the fact that it's half the size of Gene's office, twice the size of my room, that makes me shudder. It's that awful wallpaper. It feels familiar. It doesn't look like the wallpaper decorating my University overseen accommodation, but it feels like it. Only mine is orange with a kind of browny-orangey leaf thing dotted around on it. Nothing like Sam's, (thank goodness) but it just feels... oh well, the scene is now over so I put it out of my mind and click over to Word before lying back down.
Huh, I hear a voice calling my name. Forcing me to wake from a sleep I don't remember falling into. My eyes widen when I finally place the voice: creepy test card girl! She's floating beside my bed, the evil clown firmly in her grasp. I'm not surprised she's floating though because the floor is covered in all sorts of rubbish and I'm taking up the single bed, sharing it with my laptop and several books. I groan at the thought of working but then CTCG makes her presence known.
“You make my clown sad when you don't smile
You know this is not your style
You're going crazy, hearing me rhyme
You don't need me to tell you,
You're running out of time.
Running out of time!
Out of t-”
She stops, noticing my distinct lack of reaction.
“You're bloody broken you are!” She sulks before disappearing, causing me to wake up for real this time.
I want coffee but that means going downstairs so I grab a can of Relentless from my stash down the side of my bed. It's warm and it's disgustingly sweet but it's a caffeine fix so I gulp it down gratefully, mentally telling myself that I am not addicted because I'm NOT addicted. But I am addicted to Life on Mars however so I lean over to my laptop to see what's playing.
Sam and Gene are making eyes at each other but that happens quite a lot so I can't place the episode immediately. Oh yeah, Series One Episode Four. Huh, I've been asleep for quite a while. Still exhausted though. And to think that two months ago I was living off of two hours of sleep a night for weeks and I was fine. Better than fine. Fan-fucking-tastic, actually.
Yep, the CTCG is right: I am broken. Oh well, forgive me if I don't write anything for a while. I'm gonna... probably do nothing. I should probably see a doctor only I don't have the energy right now and when I'm better I feel invincible so a Doctor's kinda stupid then. Well, no, I'm the stupid one but... good night. Even though it's 4am. Stupid time. I wish I was a Time Lord. Ooh, I might go and see Doctor Who... hmpff! I hate my brain.
..........................................
Okay, so long time no write. I should probably fill you in on a few things. Monday has come and gone and I didn't get the essays in but they know how broken I am so they took pity on me and gave me til next Monday. Forgive me for not being too enthusiastic about it. Today is Wednesday and I haven't written so much as a single word. But I will do it. I have to.
I'm at University. Kinda surprised I managed to get here. I seem to have a bit more energy these days but not much. My mood has improved too but that's probably about to change. I'm sat in a room, waiting for the guest lecturer, the entire class waiting. Waiting in silence and it's starting to freak me out. The white walls are enough to sap anyone's mood, not to mention the fact that it's 9 o'clock in the morning! There are no windows in here but you just know the sun is shining outside. Not that I ever go out in the sun, I burn like a vampire, but that's not the point.
I feel trapped in here. Students sitting at their desks, all correct and present. The white walls mixed with the white fluorescent lights reminds me of a hospital. I want to leave but it'd be improper. I'm not strong enough to open the door by myself anyway 'cos it's a stupidly heavy door and it dawns on me that I am actually trapped. It's a notion that is strong enough to make me rise to my feet but then the lecturer arrives and like a good girl I sit back down at my desk.
I'm supposed to be learning about Pre-Raphaelite art but I'm actually staring into space. Thinking about Liz White and how she's hot and therefore deserves better than Sam, perhaps someone like me but then I remember that I have a girlfriend whom I love very much and therefore I shouldn't think of Liz White in that way. I get the same sense of guilt whenever I think about Philip Glenister but that doesn't stop me. My GF knows about my PG obsession and she says she's fine with it but I daren't push my luck with Liz White. Anyway, yes... pre-Raphaelite art.
I think the lecturer is stoned, he reeks of weed. I think I'm stoned because I can feel Gene Hunt place a hand on my shoulder, whisper something distracting into my ear. And now I'm blinking like Sam Tyler during a freak out but Gene remains. I can smell him, I can hear him, I can feel him. And I'm finding it kinda hard to breathe at the moment. Hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to do anything until Gene dismisses himself. And I'm helpless to stop him. I can do nothing but watch, as he sinks back into the white wall. So white.
...............................................
Friday now. And I'm still staring at a blank word document. My eyes seeing sickly wallpaper, as though it's printed on my brain. I'd play some music but it's too distracting. Simple Plan is the most emo-band ever and practically every song can be adapted for Life on Mars. Although since I can bring a Judy Garland song into Life on Mars fic... yep, everything brings me back to Life on Mars. I think I might be obsessed but I can't think about that know because I've got to think about how madness is shown in 'the Yellow Wallpaper' and the debates about documenting live performance. Thrilling. Actually, it kind of is, but I don't like being told what to do.
“Go on, you know you want to.” I hear a tempting voice and turn to find Annie sitting on the edge of my bed.
“Go away! You're not real!” I really am turning into Sam Tyler. Annie just looks at me with her big brown eyes.
“You need to relax, Maria. This is not right.”
“I can't relax, I've got 5000 words to do for Monday!” I snap and I know Annie is feigning hurt but that doesn't stop it from being so damn sexy and I almost cave in on the spot.
“It's not doing you any good this and you know it.” She tells me, her hand beginning to massage my back. “If you want to write your fanfiction, just go and write it. It might make you feel better.”
“It's angst.” I dismiss, but yeah, I am dying to write it. I'm in the middle of a series and I hate stopping in the middle of something. Short, one-shot fics are more my style;-) “And you're just saying that 'cos you want to sex up Gene, but it's not your turn.” Annie smiles at that, a shy smile that kind of reminds me of Gene. And then as if by magic, the DCI appears.
“You're working too hard.” He says, offering me his flask which I consider taking for a second.
“I haven't done any work at all!” I protest, my protests getting weaker, not that they were all that strong to begin with. Gene takes a swig from his flask.
“So?” That makes me laugh, despite the pain in my head. I look at my cluttered carpet for a second but all I see is the wallpaper. Yeah, I really could do with getting wasted. And I've just got the next instalment of my student loan. After sending some to support my mum, my baby half-brother and even babier half-sister; buying more Philip Glenister DVDs and paying for my accommodation; I'll still have a little left (I don't really eat so I can live off £20 a week) so yeah. I call together the boys, get them to carry the beer from the off licence, order Anselm to get the Pizza from Mr. Fresh's whilst I set up my laptop in the dining room I've paid for everything but I've got good company and you can't buy that. All the boys from my house are up for it: Beer and Pizza and I.D.
Dan brings his speakers down from his room and we just scoff pizza and microwavable popcorn, down the beer as though it were water and watch the film. It's fucking great! The ceiling falls down in the room next to us but by that time we're too drunk to care. I.D makes me swear like a fucking soldier but I love it. All the guys do. After the film some of the guys call it quits but I manage to get Ans and Dan to watch the football hooligan episode of Life on Mars. It's the most fun I've had in a long time. Mind you, Man-U has been playing awesome lately and that's been cheering me up too. It took I.D to get me back into football and that's just fucked up but I am seriously happy and there's been no hallucinations.
Eventually, I clamber up to my room leaving my laptop downstairs and stumbling through the ceiling that's now on the floor. I feel great. Exhausted. Drunk. Asleep.
...............................................................
Yep, it was fun but it hardly accomplished anything. I'm still wound up tighter than Scrooge's purse-strings. Okay, so I suck at Huntisms. I pretty much suck at everything at the moment. Stupid essays! Stupid me!!!
...............................................................
It's Monday morning and the essays aren't done but it doesn't matter. Gene Hunt came through the wallpaper again last night. He promised to protect me from the nasty homework and I know he will. But the Guv isn't alone.
I've got half of CID in my tiny little bedroom. Phyllis chastising me for the mess and Annie's helping me tidy up. The boys are watching my lesbian porn but Sam and Gene are busy making it themselves and I'm quite impressed since my bed's not that much bigger than Sam's in the show. This is my reality now. Everybody's free. And I can't stop smiling.
Fin
~sorry, that was so gratuitous. A disturbingly large amount of that is true. Apart from the hallucinations. And, like Charlotte Perkins Gilman, the author of 'The Yellow Wallpaper' writing this did actually help me. And my essays kinda got done but I got mitigating circumstances due to the crazy so if I fail I can try again.
x-posted at 1973flashfic and lifein1973