fic: of almost everything (part 6/7)
Title: Of Almost Everything (6/7)
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Rory, River, Eleven, Amy (Rory/Amy, Rory + River, Amy + Eleven, Eleven/River)
Wordcount: ~1800
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.
Summary: Rory has to pretend to be the Doctor.
Previous parts.
So, the funny thing was that Rory had spent a fair amount of time staring up at his bedroom-at-home ceiling thinking about time and time travel and paradoxes and Amy and stuff. He was certain he’d once, fighting sleep, promised himself that if he ever were to contact another Rory, he would not be vague and he most certainly would not be annoying. And yet, this was what River’s journal page had to say:
You’re wearing the bowtie now, yeah?
So, this is all my idea. Somehow. Ask River, or don’t, she won’t answer anyway.
You’ll understand later, obviously. Remember all those books you read. I convinced the Doctor I’d go through with this, he tells me it’s going to be fine. Don’t worry!
(River: we agreed on Lisa’s Confectionary. The TARDIS is keen on us leaving. The Doctor adds: person you should talk to, bring me a sweet.)
“I don’t like this, for reasons that should be obvious,” he said, folding the paper scrap and shoving it into a jeans pocket. “I just… don’t!”
“I don’t like it any more than you do, but trust yourself and don’t worry!” River, having replaced the journal, took him by the arm and led him back the way they had come. The tweed tightened uncomfortably when it was pulled on; Rory had not much choice but to move.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know any more than you do, now.”
“You might be lying.”
That made River laugh.
Night was falling; the clouds rolled darker in the sky, what artificial light there was shone brighter, and the air acquired a scent of lemon. The shadows were absolutely everywhere, now, hopefully devoid of mysterious men.
“Is that a nightlight or something?” he asked, hoping to distract River so that he could free his arm. (And to be fair, he really thought it was an alien nightlight.)
River stopped dead and tightened her grip. “Do you think it is?”
It was a shapeless, continually moving, shimmering pink blob; somehow it was far more repulsive than it ought to be. It moved towards them, and the faint glow is cast illuminated a fair bit of street. It could have been a nightlight, except now Rory realised it could also be something else. He made a face. “That’s the sphere? That?”
“Well, it is roughly spherical… now and then.”
“Do we run or does that look suspicious?”
“We don’t move. It should stop soon.”
It did. Unfortunately, it still gyrated haphazardly in midair. Rory felt a little sick.
River let go of him and stepped to the side. “Stand still. It’s going to scan you.”
“But is it looking for the Doctor or for me?”
“I have no idea! It’s more likely it’s the Doctor!”
“Why is that more lik-urgh!” Rory squirmed. Being scanned felt much like being tickled, all over and all the time.
An hour later or so (according to his fuzzy estimation), River asked, “Is it still scanning?”
“Yes,” he croaked. It was starting to become really very unpleasant.
“Stand like the Doctor.”
Rory did his best, while grimacing and squirming some more.
“No, angle your feet the other way! Don’t step out of its range! Close the jacket!”
“Still scanning, River!”
“Let me!” River snuck up behind him. She rested her chin between his shoulder blades, grasped his hands and placed them firmly on his hips. Then she reached around and buttoned the jacket. “Maybe we should have taken the shirt as well,” she murmured, “and the trousers…”
“Still not helping, and now it looks like I have four arms!”
River hissed, and then subjected him to a lot of knee-bending, arm-angling and hair-fluffing. “Did that help?” She pulled her arms back and stepped to the side. Frowned. “No… Maybe you should take it all off instead?”
The sphere continued to scan.
“Shoooo!” cried Rory, illustrating what he wanted the sphere to do with a series of excessive hand movements.
The sensations stopped. Just like that. Rory swayed into River’s arms. He felt like he’d been through a thorough deep tissue massage.
The sphere, still gyrating lazily, somehow projected a block of text in an alien language onto the cobblestones.
Rory stretched. “What’s it doing?”
River frowned at the projection. “It’s found out you’re really a human in a bowtie… and it doesn’t care. It’s transmitted its findings…”
The sphere swivelled slightly to the side; it obviously had its sights set on River.
She blew it a kiss, pulled out her gun and shot it.
It made far less of a mess than Rory would have thought. “Why did you do that? And why didn’t you do it before?”
“Because this is about you. Come on!”
“Where are we going?”
“Back to the TARDIS! I’m certain that sphere transmitted to the Doctor’s psychic paper.”
In the alley, the gathered locals were agitated. Some hefted weapons. They all stared intently at the junction where the Judoon would show up. A few of them had looked over their shoulders and recognised the arrival of Amy and the Doctor, but quickly turned back again.
The Judoon were getting closer: the steady echo of heavy boots and the occasional distressed call grew louder and louder.
The Doctor removed a fruit peel (courtesy of the rubbish skip) from his boot sole and took a few resolute steps toward the group. “Listen!”
“Amy! Doctor!”
The Doctor stopped mid-step and spun around. Amy did the same. The dingy door next to the skip had opened, and in the doorway stood Rory.
“Rory,” said Amy, knitting her brows. “Where’s the tie? See, Doctor, he got sick of the tie!”
Rory stepped out into the alley and put his hands into the pockets of his fluffy waistcoat.
She took a step closer, scrutinised him. “Why are you making that face? Is your hair shorter? Did you get a haircut?”
The Doctor leaned forward and sniffed Rory’s hand, then grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “Future-Rory!”
Amy frowned. “What do you mean ‘future-Rory’?”
The Doctor flailed. “Rory! From the future!”
Amy’s mouth opened a little.
“It’s only a few weeks,” said Rory, his cheeks reddening. “I have to…” He motioned to the tense backs of the locals.
The Doctor stopped flailing and put his hands on his hips, wary. “You have to what? Join them? Stop them? Lecture them? Why are you here? What are you supposed to do?” His eyes grew round. “Oh! I see!”
“What?” said Amy. “What? What do you see? Why is Rory from the future here? What!”
“Maybe… it’s not me the clothes change is protecting.”
Rory approached the locals and cleared his throat for attention.
No one cared even the slightest.
He cleared his throat again.
A few people stirred, but no one turned.
“OI!” shouted Amy. The last syllable echoed for a long time, overtaking the sound of the approaching Judoon.
The crowd spun around, as one, all quite wide-eyed.
Rory raised his hands. “Hello! My name is Rory Williams.”
And now, there were excited murmurs and quite a lot of staring. Some of the locals’ mouths fell open, too.
The Doctor grinned and nudged Amy repeatedly with an elbow. She nudged back, irritably, not taking her eyes off Rory’s back.
“Don’t worry!” began Rory. “My friends and I will fix this. Why don’t you all head to the bubble farm and see if you can help someone? Just pass through this fruit shop.” He pointed to the backdoor he had emerged from. “I’m sure you’ll find the way from there… You live here, obviously you will.”
The locals murmured amongst themselves briefly, seemed to come to a conclusion… and suddenly they had all shaken Rory’s hand and goggled at Amy and surrendered their weapons to the Doctor and disappeared into the shop.
Amy strode up to Rory and tugged at his yellow jumper. “So… this is a bit weird.”
Rory snorted. “A bit, yeah.”
“You’re from the future!”
“You’re from the past! I like you hat. Still.”
The Doctor noisily dumped the weapons in the skip, and made very sure the backdoor was open. (He was most certainly not eavesdropping.)
Amy reached up and ran a hand through Rory’s shorter hair. “What did - Oh, not already!”
The three Judoon entered the alley by themselves; apparently (and conveniently) they had scanned all the shoppers.
Rory, quite pale now, motioned for Amy and the Doctor to move back.
The Judoon Leader walked right up to Rory, scanned him, and stated, “Assailant confirmed.”
“Yeah,” said Rory. “Hi!”
“You are charged with-”
“Um, shhhh! Just one moment, eh, sir. I have this.” He pulled a tattered square of parchment out of a jeans pocket. “It looks a bit… I’ve explained things to your high officer and the Council, and they accepted my apology and told me to give you this. Here.”
The Leader accepted the parchment and looked at it. Showed it to the other two. Looked at it again. “Case closed.”
Rory closed his eyes and sighed.
The Doctor sidled up to him. “Any detail you could disclose would be most appreciated.”
“Sorry.” He opened his eyes again. “I could tell you to prepare for what happens now, I guess.”
“What happens now?” asked Amy, rather too loudly.
The Judoon Leader regarded her. “The Doctor has 3359 transgressions to his name.” He pointed to the Doctor. “You.”
“Oh, now it’s me!” The Doctor straightened in a not-at-all-hopeful-way-really.
“According to paragraph 8-delta-7-9-9 you will be-”
“Run!” The Doctor headed for the open door.
Rory and River were (finally!) nearing the TARDIS, when a bunch of giggly old ladies came out of nowhere and gathered around them, cooing, “Rory! Amy!”
Rory grimaced; River slipped a hand around his waist and pecked him on the cheek.
An indeterminable amount of time and a truly staggering amount of pinching and pecking later, the ladies were apparently satisfied and toddled off.
Rory straightened the poor bowtie and rubbed at his numb cheek.
River dusted herself off. “There’s something about you and this place.”
“Yellow men and little old ladies, and… now a space rhino is looking at the bowtie, while standing in front of a bakery. This is a dream, right?” He felt like laughing, but something about the space rhino’s stare stopped him.
“It’s a Judoon!” River obviously didn’t find it very funny either. “They make a business of being in the way.”
This Judoon reached for a communications device of the small, rectangular sort, then turned abruptly and started jogging away from them.
Rory sighed. “It has something to do with this, too, hasn’t it?”
“It is heading roughly for where the Doctor ought to be.”
“Of. Course. It. Is.”
A rather long while and too many random alleys later, the Doctor stumbled to a halt next to another inconspicuous-looking backdoor. “Perfect!”
Amy and Rory leaned on each other.
“Mind telling us what’s perfect?” asked Amy, panting. “And this running thing - less great when you keep slipping on rubbish and banging your elbows!”
“Argh, I take it back! Not perfect!” The Doctor stared at the closed door, running his hands all over the front of his coat. “The sonic!”
Part 7.
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Rory, River, Eleven, Amy (Rory/Amy, Rory + River, Amy + Eleven, Eleven/River)
Wordcount: ~1800
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.
Summary: Rory has to pretend to be the Doctor.
Previous parts.
So, the funny thing was that Rory had spent a fair amount of time staring up at his bedroom-at-home ceiling thinking about time and time travel and paradoxes and Amy and stuff. He was certain he’d once, fighting sleep, promised himself that if he ever were to contact another Rory, he would not be vague and he most certainly would not be annoying. And yet, this was what River’s journal page had to say:
You’re wearing the bowtie now, yeah?
So, this is all my idea. Somehow. Ask River, or don’t, she won’t answer anyway.
You’ll understand later, obviously. Remember all those books you read. I convinced the Doctor I’d go through with this, he tells me it’s going to be fine. Don’t worry!
(River: we agreed on Lisa’s Confectionary. The TARDIS is keen on us leaving. The Doctor adds: person you should talk to, bring me a sweet.)
“I don’t like this, for reasons that should be obvious,” he said, folding the paper scrap and shoving it into a jeans pocket. “I just… don’t!”
“I don’t like it any more than you do, but trust yourself and don’t worry!” River, having replaced the journal, took him by the arm and led him back the way they had come. The tweed tightened uncomfortably when it was pulled on; Rory had not much choice but to move.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know any more than you do, now.”
“You might be lying.”
That made River laugh.
Night was falling; the clouds rolled darker in the sky, what artificial light there was shone brighter, and the air acquired a scent of lemon. The shadows were absolutely everywhere, now, hopefully devoid of mysterious men.
“Is that a nightlight or something?” he asked, hoping to distract River so that he could free his arm. (And to be fair, he really thought it was an alien nightlight.)
River stopped dead and tightened her grip. “Do you think it is?”
It was a shapeless, continually moving, shimmering pink blob; somehow it was far more repulsive than it ought to be. It moved towards them, and the faint glow is cast illuminated a fair bit of street. It could have been a nightlight, except now Rory realised it could also be something else. He made a face. “That’s the sphere? That?”
“Well, it is roughly spherical… now and then.”
“Do we run or does that look suspicious?”
“We don’t move. It should stop soon.”
It did. Unfortunately, it still gyrated haphazardly in midair. Rory felt a little sick.
River let go of him and stepped to the side. “Stand still. It’s going to scan you.”
“But is it looking for the Doctor or for me?”
“I have no idea! It’s more likely it’s the Doctor!”
“Why is that more lik-urgh!” Rory squirmed. Being scanned felt much like being tickled, all over and all the time.
An hour later or so (according to his fuzzy estimation), River asked, “Is it still scanning?”
“Yes,” he croaked. It was starting to become really very unpleasant.
“Stand like the Doctor.”
Rory did his best, while grimacing and squirming some more.
“No, angle your feet the other way! Don’t step out of its range! Close the jacket!”
“Still scanning, River!”
“Let me!” River snuck up behind him. She rested her chin between his shoulder blades, grasped his hands and placed them firmly on his hips. Then she reached around and buttoned the jacket. “Maybe we should have taken the shirt as well,” she murmured, “and the trousers…”
“Still not helping, and now it looks like I have four arms!”
River hissed, and then subjected him to a lot of knee-bending, arm-angling and hair-fluffing. “Did that help?” She pulled her arms back and stepped to the side. Frowned. “No… Maybe you should take it all off instead?”
The sphere continued to scan.
“Shoooo!” cried Rory, illustrating what he wanted the sphere to do with a series of excessive hand movements.
The sensations stopped. Just like that. Rory swayed into River’s arms. He felt like he’d been through a thorough deep tissue massage.
The sphere, still gyrating lazily, somehow projected a block of text in an alien language onto the cobblestones.
Rory stretched. “What’s it doing?”
River frowned at the projection. “It’s found out you’re really a human in a bowtie… and it doesn’t care. It’s transmitted its findings…”
The sphere swivelled slightly to the side; it obviously had its sights set on River.
She blew it a kiss, pulled out her gun and shot it.
It made far less of a mess than Rory would have thought. “Why did you do that? And why didn’t you do it before?”
“Because this is about you. Come on!”
“Where are we going?”
“Back to the TARDIS! I’m certain that sphere transmitted to the Doctor’s psychic paper.”
In the alley, the gathered locals were agitated. Some hefted weapons. They all stared intently at the junction where the Judoon would show up. A few of them had looked over their shoulders and recognised the arrival of Amy and the Doctor, but quickly turned back again.
The Judoon were getting closer: the steady echo of heavy boots and the occasional distressed call grew louder and louder.
The Doctor removed a fruit peel (courtesy of the rubbish skip) from his boot sole and took a few resolute steps toward the group. “Listen!”
“Amy! Doctor!”
The Doctor stopped mid-step and spun around. Amy did the same. The dingy door next to the skip had opened, and in the doorway stood Rory.
“Rory,” said Amy, knitting her brows. “Where’s the tie? See, Doctor, he got sick of the tie!”
Rory stepped out into the alley and put his hands into the pockets of his fluffy waistcoat.
She took a step closer, scrutinised him. “Why are you making that face? Is your hair shorter? Did you get a haircut?”
The Doctor leaned forward and sniffed Rory’s hand, then grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “Future-Rory!”
Amy frowned. “What do you mean ‘future-Rory’?”
The Doctor flailed. “Rory! From the future!”
Amy’s mouth opened a little.
“It’s only a few weeks,” said Rory, his cheeks reddening. “I have to…” He motioned to the tense backs of the locals.
The Doctor stopped flailing and put his hands on his hips, wary. “You have to what? Join them? Stop them? Lecture them? Why are you here? What are you supposed to do?” His eyes grew round. “Oh! I see!”
“What?” said Amy. “What? What do you see? Why is Rory from the future here? What!”
“Maybe… it’s not me the clothes change is protecting.”
Rory approached the locals and cleared his throat for attention.
No one cared even the slightest.
He cleared his throat again.
A few people stirred, but no one turned.
“OI!” shouted Amy. The last syllable echoed for a long time, overtaking the sound of the approaching Judoon.
The crowd spun around, as one, all quite wide-eyed.
Rory raised his hands. “Hello! My name is Rory Williams.”
And now, there were excited murmurs and quite a lot of staring. Some of the locals’ mouths fell open, too.
The Doctor grinned and nudged Amy repeatedly with an elbow. She nudged back, irritably, not taking her eyes off Rory’s back.
“Don’t worry!” began Rory. “My friends and I will fix this. Why don’t you all head to the bubble farm and see if you can help someone? Just pass through this fruit shop.” He pointed to the backdoor he had emerged from. “I’m sure you’ll find the way from there… You live here, obviously you will.”
The locals murmured amongst themselves briefly, seemed to come to a conclusion… and suddenly they had all shaken Rory’s hand and goggled at Amy and surrendered their weapons to the Doctor and disappeared into the shop.
Amy strode up to Rory and tugged at his yellow jumper. “So… this is a bit weird.”
Rory snorted. “A bit, yeah.”
“You’re from the future!”
“You’re from the past! I like you hat. Still.”
The Doctor noisily dumped the weapons in the skip, and made very sure the backdoor was open. (He was most certainly not eavesdropping.)
Amy reached up and ran a hand through Rory’s shorter hair. “What did - Oh, not already!”
The three Judoon entered the alley by themselves; apparently (and conveniently) they had scanned all the shoppers.
Rory, quite pale now, motioned for Amy and the Doctor to move back.
The Judoon Leader walked right up to Rory, scanned him, and stated, “Assailant confirmed.”
“Yeah,” said Rory. “Hi!”
“You are charged with-”
“Um, shhhh! Just one moment, eh, sir. I have this.” He pulled a tattered square of parchment out of a jeans pocket. “It looks a bit… I’ve explained things to your high officer and the Council, and they accepted my apology and told me to give you this. Here.”
The Leader accepted the parchment and looked at it. Showed it to the other two. Looked at it again. “Case closed.”
Rory closed his eyes and sighed.
The Doctor sidled up to him. “Any detail you could disclose would be most appreciated.”
“Sorry.” He opened his eyes again. “I could tell you to prepare for what happens now, I guess.”
“What happens now?” asked Amy, rather too loudly.
The Judoon Leader regarded her. “The Doctor has 3359 transgressions to his name.” He pointed to the Doctor. “You.”
“Oh, now it’s me!” The Doctor straightened in a not-at-all-hopeful-way-really.
“According to paragraph 8-delta-7-9-9 you will be-”
“Run!” The Doctor headed for the open door.
Rory and River were (finally!) nearing the TARDIS, when a bunch of giggly old ladies came out of nowhere and gathered around them, cooing, “Rory! Amy!”
Rory grimaced; River slipped a hand around his waist and pecked him on the cheek.
An indeterminable amount of time and a truly staggering amount of pinching and pecking later, the ladies were apparently satisfied and toddled off.
Rory straightened the poor bowtie and rubbed at his numb cheek.
River dusted herself off. “There’s something about you and this place.”
“Yellow men and little old ladies, and… now a space rhino is looking at the bowtie, while standing in front of a bakery. This is a dream, right?” He felt like laughing, but something about the space rhino’s stare stopped him.
“It’s a Judoon!” River obviously didn’t find it very funny either. “They make a business of being in the way.”
This Judoon reached for a communications device of the small, rectangular sort, then turned abruptly and started jogging away from them.
Rory sighed. “It has something to do with this, too, hasn’t it?”
“It is heading roughly for where the Doctor ought to be.”
“Of. Course. It. Is.”
A rather long while and too many random alleys later, the Doctor stumbled to a halt next to another inconspicuous-looking backdoor. “Perfect!”
Amy and Rory leaned on each other.
“Mind telling us what’s perfect?” asked Amy, panting. “And this running thing - less great when you keep slipping on rubbish and banging your elbows!”
“Argh, I take it back! Not perfect!” The Doctor stared at the closed door, running his hands all over the front of his coat. “The sonic!”
Part 7.