DOCTOR WHO/TSCC FIC: Three Taps on the Door [Martha Jones, Derek Reese | PG]
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear persiflage_1,
Happy Birthday to yooooou!!!!!
I couldn’t come up with anything substantial from your Birthday prompts, but I remembered you liked Lifelines, my Doctor Who/Terminator story , and I always meant to write their reunion scene - so here it is!
I hope you enjoy it!
Title: Three Taps on the Door
Author: jinxed_wood
Rating: PG, for the pulling of guns
Characters:Martha Jones, Derek Reese, Sarah Connor
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the Beeb, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles belongs to Fox (I think) all I have is my Microsoft Word…
Summary: He knocked on the door, three taps, a pause, and then three more
Author’s notes;Sequel ficlet to Lifelines.
~~~THREE TAPS ON THE DOOR~~~
“It could easily be fake,” Sarah said to him, as they listened to the recording on John’s laptop, and Derek knew she was right. A Terminator could fake their voices, fabricate the evidence... but he doubted that they would have replicated the bickering; the tension in his voice, and the frustration in John’s. It was real all right. He suppressed a shiver as he listened to his own voice describe the world’s future. Did he really sound that bleak? Yeah, he supposed he did.
And then they listened to the other recording, the one with the clipped British voice. She sounded young, but Derek knew that didn't really tell him anything. They listened in silence to what she had to say, and the silence went on when the recording ended.
Sarah said on the edge of John’s bed. “Do you think it’s true?” she asked.
Derek looked at her, and felt as if the world he knew was suddenly slipping away from him. For a moment, he realised what this was what the world must be like for someone like Sarah’s ex, who had caught a glimpse of a terrible future, and lost his wife to it in one blinding week of horror. “Yeah, I think it’s true,” he said.
There was another reason why Derek Reese thought Martha Jones was telling the truth, one that he hadn't told Sarah and had nothing to do with the recordings they’d just listened to. She’d waited to make contact with him at the park, his park, the one where he and his brother used to play at when they were kids. For her to do that she’d have to know him well, really well. The kind of knowing that doesn’t come from a file, or even from spying on him through a camera lens. She knew who he was.
The thought turned his blood cold.
If she’d been a Terminator, the future would have already been snuffed out by now. He and Kyle would be a bloody smear on the park grass. He wouldn’t be standing there and John would never have been born.
“I’ve heard of UNIT,” he admitted aloud. “Worked with a few of them in the future. They were good men, and they didn’t die easy.”
Sarah nodded. “John checked them out online, before you arrived,” she said. “Apparently, they’ve been dealing with a lot of the weird stuff that’s been happening recently, and there is a Doctor Martha Jones serving with them. If what she says is true, she could be useful.”
They looked at each other, and Derek spoke first. “It should be me,” he said.
She hesitated. “I’m not sure I can trust you to do that,” she admitted. It was the same old story; he understood why, he just didn’t have time for it.
“I’m the only one who’ll know if she’s lying,” he said.
She gave him a flat look but didn't deny it. “I’ll go with you, then” she said.
“It’s better if you stay with John,” he told her grimly. “If we’re wrong, we don’t want to make it too easy for her to kill us both.”
She agreed with him eventually.
~~~~*~~~*~~*~~*~~~*~~~~
The hotel was more upscale than he’d expected. The carpets were soft and deep, and the lighting, as well as the staff, were low key. Whoever Martha Jones was, she wasn’t someone who felt the need to hide in a dive. The guy at the reception desk said to go right on up. He took him at his word.
He knocked on the door, three taps, a pause, and then three more. The door opened with the keychain still on and dark, serious eyes looked up at him. “Hey, Derek,” she said. There was a hoarseness in her voice, and Derek didn’t think it was because of a throat tickle.
He frowned down at her. “Are you holding a gun on me?” he asked.
Her lips twisted into an echo of a smile, “No, Derek I’m not holding a gun on you.” The gap narrowed a fraction, and he pulled out a gun as he heard the keychain being slid out of its catch. A moment later, the door swung open and he found himself frowning at her back as she strolled over to the suite’s couch. His eyes scanned her. No weapons in her hands, no telltale bulges or bumps. Of course, there were places she could still hide a weapon, and if she was metal, then she was the weapon.
“Well, are you coming in?” she asked as she sat on the couch. It was a slow, smooth move. She was trying not to spook him, he realised. He held his gun on her and kicked to door shut as she stretched her arms over the back of the couch.
“Talk,” he said. She tilted her head, and Derek was struck by the fact she was actually quite attractive. He shoved the thought the way; it had no place in this room… and why wasn’t she carrying a gun?
“I’m not carrying a gun, because I thought one heavily armed person in the room would be more than enough,” she said dryly, as if she was reading her thoughts. “And there is no way in hell I could beat you in a fire fight.”
“How did you know?” he asked.
“How did I know what?” she asked, before comprehension dawned. “Oh yeah, right,” she said, with a small laugh. “Let’s just say I’ve seen you pull this stunt before and I know the moves. Trust no one, keep ‘em covered, and check for weapons.” A cheeky look crossed her face. “Want to pat me down?”
And then her eyes caught his, and Derek knew. There was a kindred spirit in there, behind the grin and the empty hands. He lowered the gun. “What kind of stupid stunt was this?” he asked, glowering down at her. “Lesson number one: be armed at all times.”
She covered her mouth with her hand, and Derek couldn’t quite believe it as he realised she was actually laughing into it.
“This ain’t funny,” he snapped.” I could have killed you. Only metal comes looking for me without a weapon.”
“Oh, but it is funny,” she said. “Trust me on this. You just don’t know the joke yet!” She got to her feet and grinned brilliantly up at him. “We have a lot to talk about," she told him, "But, first, I’m about to do something you’re probably not going to like - promise you won't shoot me?”
He didn’t have time to answer. He just stood there, as her arms wrapped around him and clung; he recognised that desperation, he recognised the iron in her embrace.
“I died, huh?” he asked softly.
“Not anymore,” she said, into his chest. “You’re here now.”
~~~FINIS~~~
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear persiflage_1,
Happy Birthday to yooooou!!!!!
I couldn’t come up with anything substantial from your Birthday prompts, but I remembered you liked Lifelines, my Doctor Who/Terminator story , and I always meant to write their reunion scene - so here it is!
I hope you enjoy it!
Title: Three Taps on the Door
Author: jinxed_wood
Rating: PG, for the pulling of guns
Characters:Martha Jones, Derek Reese, Sarah Connor
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the Beeb, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles belongs to Fox (I think) all I have is my Microsoft Word…
Summary: He knocked on the door, three taps, a pause, and then three more
Author’s notes;Sequel ficlet to Lifelines.
~~~THREE TAPS ON THE DOOR~~~
“It could easily be fake,” Sarah said to him, as they listened to the recording on John’s laptop, and Derek knew she was right. A Terminator could fake their voices, fabricate the evidence... but he doubted that they would have replicated the bickering; the tension in his voice, and the frustration in John’s. It was real all right. He suppressed a shiver as he listened to his own voice describe the world’s future. Did he really sound that bleak? Yeah, he supposed he did.
And then they listened to the other recording, the one with the clipped British voice. She sounded young, but Derek knew that didn't really tell him anything. They listened in silence to what she had to say, and the silence went on when the recording ended.
Sarah said on the edge of John’s bed. “Do you think it’s true?” she asked.
Derek looked at her, and felt as if the world he knew was suddenly slipping away from him. For a moment, he realised what this was what the world must be like for someone like Sarah’s ex, who had caught a glimpse of a terrible future, and lost his wife to it in one blinding week of horror. “Yeah, I think it’s true,” he said.
There was another reason why Derek Reese thought Martha Jones was telling the truth, one that he hadn't told Sarah and had nothing to do with the recordings they’d just listened to. She’d waited to make contact with him at the park, his park, the one where he and his brother used to play at when they were kids. For her to do that she’d have to know him well, really well. The kind of knowing that doesn’t come from a file, or even from spying on him through a camera lens. She knew who he was.
The thought turned his blood cold.
If she’d been a Terminator, the future would have already been snuffed out by now. He and Kyle would be a bloody smear on the park grass. He wouldn’t be standing there and John would never have been born.
“I’ve heard of UNIT,” he admitted aloud. “Worked with a few of them in the future. They were good men, and they didn’t die easy.”
Sarah nodded. “John checked them out online, before you arrived,” she said. “Apparently, they’ve been dealing with a lot of the weird stuff that’s been happening recently, and there is a Doctor Martha Jones serving with them. If what she says is true, she could be useful.”
They looked at each other, and Derek spoke first. “It should be me,” he said.
She hesitated. “I’m not sure I can trust you to do that,” she admitted. It was the same old story; he understood why, he just didn’t have time for it.
“I’m the only one who’ll know if she’s lying,” he said.
She gave him a flat look but didn't deny it. “I’ll go with you, then” she said.
“It’s better if you stay with John,” he told her grimly. “If we’re wrong, we don’t want to make it too easy for her to kill us both.”
She agreed with him eventually.
~~~~*~~~*~~*~~*~~~*~~~~
The hotel was more upscale than he’d expected. The carpets were soft and deep, and the lighting, as well as the staff, were low key. Whoever Martha Jones was, she wasn’t someone who felt the need to hide in a dive. The guy at the reception desk said to go right on up. He took him at his word.
He knocked on the door, three taps, a pause, and then three more. The door opened with the keychain still on and dark, serious eyes looked up at him. “Hey, Derek,” she said. There was a hoarseness in her voice, and Derek didn’t think it was because of a throat tickle.
He frowned down at her. “Are you holding a gun on me?” he asked.
Her lips twisted into an echo of a smile, “No, Derek I’m not holding a gun on you.” The gap narrowed a fraction, and he pulled out a gun as he heard the keychain being slid out of its catch. A moment later, the door swung open and he found himself frowning at her back as she strolled over to the suite’s couch. His eyes scanned her. No weapons in her hands, no telltale bulges or bumps. Of course, there were places she could still hide a weapon, and if she was metal, then she was the weapon.
“Well, are you coming in?” she asked as she sat on the couch. It was a slow, smooth move. She was trying not to spook him, he realised. He held his gun on her and kicked to door shut as she stretched her arms over the back of the couch.
“Talk,” he said. She tilted her head, and Derek was struck by the fact she was actually quite attractive. He shoved the thought the way; it had no place in this room… and why wasn’t she carrying a gun?
“I’m not carrying a gun, because I thought one heavily armed person in the room would be more than enough,” she said dryly, as if she was reading her thoughts. “And there is no way in hell I could beat you in a fire fight.”
“How did you know?” he asked.
“How did I know what?” she asked, before comprehension dawned. “Oh yeah, right,” she said, with a small laugh. “Let’s just say I’ve seen you pull this stunt before and I know the moves. Trust no one, keep ‘em covered, and check for weapons.” A cheeky look crossed her face. “Want to pat me down?”
And then her eyes caught his, and Derek knew. There was a kindred spirit in there, behind the grin and the empty hands. He lowered the gun. “What kind of stupid stunt was this?” he asked, glowering down at her. “Lesson number one: be armed at all times.”
She covered her mouth with her hand, and Derek couldn’t quite believe it as he realised she was actually laughing into it.
“This ain’t funny,” he snapped.” I could have killed you. Only metal comes looking for me without a weapon.”
“Oh, but it is funny,” she said. “Trust me on this. You just don’t know the joke yet!” She got to her feet and grinned brilliantly up at him. “We have a lot to talk about," she told him, "But, first, I’m about to do something you’re probably not going to like - promise you won't shoot me?”
He didn’t have time to answer. He just stood there, as her arms wrapped around him and clung; he recognised that desperation, he recognised the iron in her embrace.
“I died, huh?” he asked softly.
“Not anymore,” she said, into his chest. “You’re here now.”
~~~FINIS~~~