Fic: Beautiful Truth
Title: Beautiful Truth
Author: Me :)
Fandom: Life On Mars/ Doctor Who crossover
Rating: White Cortina
Summary: Nelson is a lot more than just a barman...
A/N: I don't think this is very spoilery... but, just in case, don't click if you haven't seen the last episode of Life on Mars or Doctor Who. I think this is quite cracky. I hope I made it obvious, but I'm worried that the Who references were perhaps a bit too subtle ><. Let em know! All comments are very welcome! ^-^
The Railway Arms was practically empty; only Sam and two other CID men were still there, all the others having left at least an hour before. Nelson watched patiently as the two men downed the last dregs in their glasses and headed for the door, slurring their goodbyes to Nelson. Sam just stood there, teetering slightly, eyes staring at the glass in his hand, making no moves to leave.
“Isn’t it about time you headed home, Mon brave?” said Nelson, concernedly watching as Sam took another large gulp of bitter.
“I’m not going home, Nelson,” Sam spoke up, the tone of his words heavily weighted with a deeper meaning. “Ever.”
Nelson raised his eyebrows and leant across the bar, speaking in a feigned stern voice, “You staying here all night?”
“That’s not what I meant,” said Sam, his eyes darting across Nelson’s face as if he
was attempting to read Nelson’s expression. “Y’know what I mean, don’t you, Nelson? Home. I’m not going back home.” Sam suddenly looked directly at Nelson upon emphasising the last word, his eyes seemingly asking Nelson for confirmation that he was right. Nelson sighed before speaking in the pensive tone he always adopted when Sam was in these moods.
“That’s because you are home, Sam,” said Nelson. After many months experience of dealing with inebriated Sam; Nelson found it was best to just humour the man. Sam seemed to almost regard Nelson as an oracle and, whilst Nelson found this very flattering, there were times when he found Sam’s desperate need for answers frustrating and, sometimes, curiously uncomfortable.
“I am,” Sam nodded earnestly, evidently satisfied with what Nelson had said. “I am home.”
“But not your home,” Nelson grinned, but his grin faltered slightly as a surge of understanding and sympathy welled up within him. Nelson repressed those feelings as they threatened to surface, pushing the feeling of loss back down, unwilling to face that particular emotion.
“Exactly!” Sam raised his glass to Nelson, tilting his head and leaning in conspiratorially. “I knew you’d understand. This is home but not my home.”
“I understand,” said Nelson sombrely, turning away slightly to pick up a tea towel. “It’s not my home, either.” Nelson added quietly.
“Wha’s that?” Sam asked, looking up at Nelson suddenly alert, his glass halfway to his lips.
“My home.” Nelson reiterated as his dark eyes surveyed Sam sadly.
“Liverpool?” Sam asked, frowning bemusedly, gulping down more of his drink.
“Even further than that.” Nelson replied enigmatically, widening his eyes and holding eye contact with Sam as if by doing so they could transfer messages between each other telepathically.
“Further…” Sam trailed off, unsure of what to ask. Eventually he settled for, “Not Jamaica, then?”
Nelson laughed, “No, Sam. Not Jamaica.” Nelson watched carefully as Sam digested this information, churning over it in his mind. Although Sam was hardly sober, Nelson knew Sam was still incredibly shrewd when drunk. It almost defied logic, but Nelson was only too aware that logic had never had a real place in the universe.
“Who are you really, Nelson?” Sam was watching Nelson intently, his voice now held no hint of a slur.
“A traveller,” answered Nelson, simply. “Just like you, Sam.”
“From the future?” Sam was whispering, as if he was terrified of speaking aloud in case someone was eavesdropping on the conversation, which, considering the pub was empty, was a fear unfounded.
“Perhaps,” Nelson shrugged. “But, surely, the real question is where I’ve travelled from, Sam, not when,” he hinted.
“Where are you from, then?” Sam asked, leaning forwards, his eyes practically spherical as he looked at Nelson.
“Far, far away,” Nelson said vaguely. “Another galaxy, in fact.”
“How’d you get here?” Sam thought he had only wondered the question, but he must have said it aloud as Nelson replied to it.
“It was a long time ago that I arrived here,” said Nelson. “I can hardly remember.”
“A hundred years ago?” Sam guessed, still watching Nelson, entranced by the man’s, or alien’s, story.
“More like…” Nelson furrowed his brow in concentration. “A billion.”
Sam spluttered his drink across the bar, “What? You’re saying you’ve been here for that- a billion- so long,” Sam said between coughing up alcohol.
“I’ve seen a lot,” came the melancholy reply.
“What planet?” Sam questioned eagerly. “What planet are you from then?”
“I…” Nelson began but stopped as his eyes lost their focus on Sam’s face and glazed over. “Can no longer remember. All I know, Sam, is that I’m far away from the rest of my kind.”
“Your kind? So,” Sam gestured at Nelson’s appearance, “they all look similar to you? Or are you in disguise as a human?”
“They looked similar.” Nelson nodded, though he was uncertain of himself despite the hazy indistinct memories that had begun to form in his mind. “‘Tis Funny, but, all I remember are their faces. Large faces. Surrounded by water. Just…faces.” Nelson closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, as he tried to piece the memories together, but every time he thought he could envisage his kind the image would disperse or warp till it just resembled a distorted version of himself. Nelson efforts were interrupted by a loud crash and he opened his eyes to see Sam lying on the floor looking very confused.
“M’sorry, Nelson.” Sam said, the slur back in his voice. “You were talking about your home.”
“I think I’ve said enough about my home, Sam,” Nelson said smiling, walking round the bar and offering his hand out to Sam, who took it gratefully. “I think it’s time you went home, Sam. Back to your flat,” Nelson clarified, remembering Sam’s earlier words.
“Yeah, my home. Thanks, Nelson,” Sam said, lifting his jacket from the stool and stumbling towards the door.
“Be careful, Sam, and,” Sam turned as he opened the door, to face Nelson, whose lips did not move as his words echoed around Sam’s head, “you’re not alone, Sam.”
Author: Me :)
Fandom: Life On Mars/ Doctor Who crossover
Rating: White Cortina
Summary: Nelson is a lot more than just a barman...
A/N: I don't think this is very spoilery... but, just in case, don't click if you haven't seen the last episode of Life on Mars or Doctor Who. I think this is quite cracky. I hope I made it obvious, but I'm worried that the Who references were perhaps a bit too subtle ><. Let em know! All comments are very welcome! ^-^
The Railway Arms was practically empty; only Sam and two other CID men were still there, all the others having left at least an hour before. Nelson watched patiently as the two men downed the last dregs in their glasses and headed for the door, slurring their goodbyes to Nelson. Sam just stood there, teetering slightly, eyes staring at the glass in his hand, making no moves to leave.
“Isn’t it about time you headed home, Mon brave?” said Nelson, concernedly watching as Sam took another large gulp of bitter.
“I’m not going home, Nelson,” Sam spoke up, the tone of his words heavily weighted with a deeper meaning. “Ever.”
Nelson raised his eyebrows and leant across the bar, speaking in a feigned stern voice, “You staying here all night?”
“That’s not what I meant,” said Sam, his eyes darting across Nelson’s face as if he
was attempting to read Nelson’s expression. “Y’know what I mean, don’t you, Nelson? Home. I’m not going back home.” Sam suddenly looked directly at Nelson upon emphasising the last word, his eyes seemingly asking Nelson for confirmation that he was right. Nelson sighed before speaking in the pensive tone he always adopted when Sam was in these moods.
“That’s because you are home, Sam,” said Nelson. After many months experience of dealing with inebriated Sam; Nelson found it was best to just humour the man. Sam seemed to almost regard Nelson as an oracle and, whilst Nelson found this very flattering, there were times when he found Sam’s desperate need for answers frustrating and, sometimes, curiously uncomfortable.
“I am,” Sam nodded earnestly, evidently satisfied with what Nelson had said. “I am home.”
“But not your home,” Nelson grinned, but his grin faltered slightly as a surge of understanding and sympathy welled up within him. Nelson repressed those feelings as they threatened to surface, pushing the feeling of loss back down, unwilling to face that particular emotion.
“Exactly!” Sam raised his glass to Nelson, tilting his head and leaning in conspiratorially. “I knew you’d understand. This is home but not my home.”
“I understand,” said Nelson sombrely, turning away slightly to pick up a tea towel. “It’s not my home, either.” Nelson added quietly.
“Wha’s that?” Sam asked, looking up at Nelson suddenly alert, his glass halfway to his lips.
“My home.” Nelson reiterated as his dark eyes surveyed Sam sadly.
“Liverpool?” Sam asked, frowning bemusedly, gulping down more of his drink.
“Even further than that.” Nelson replied enigmatically, widening his eyes and holding eye contact with Sam as if by doing so they could transfer messages between each other telepathically.
“Further…” Sam trailed off, unsure of what to ask. Eventually he settled for, “Not Jamaica, then?”
Nelson laughed, “No, Sam. Not Jamaica.” Nelson watched carefully as Sam digested this information, churning over it in his mind. Although Sam was hardly sober, Nelson knew Sam was still incredibly shrewd when drunk. It almost defied logic, but Nelson was only too aware that logic had never had a real place in the universe.
“Who are you really, Nelson?” Sam was watching Nelson intently, his voice now held no hint of a slur.
“A traveller,” answered Nelson, simply. “Just like you, Sam.”
“From the future?” Sam was whispering, as if he was terrified of speaking aloud in case someone was eavesdropping on the conversation, which, considering the pub was empty, was a fear unfounded.
“Perhaps,” Nelson shrugged. “But, surely, the real question is where I’ve travelled from, Sam, not when,” he hinted.
“Where are you from, then?” Sam asked, leaning forwards, his eyes practically spherical as he looked at Nelson.
“Far, far away,” Nelson said vaguely. “Another galaxy, in fact.”
“How’d you get here?” Sam thought he had only wondered the question, but he must have said it aloud as Nelson replied to it.
“It was a long time ago that I arrived here,” said Nelson. “I can hardly remember.”
“A hundred years ago?” Sam guessed, still watching Nelson, entranced by the man’s, or alien’s, story.
“More like…” Nelson furrowed his brow in concentration. “A billion.”
Sam spluttered his drink across the bar, “What? You’re saying you’ve been here for that- a billion- so long,” Sam said between coughing up alcohol.
“I’ve seen a lot,” came the melancholy reply.
“What planet?” Sam questioned eagerly. “What planet are you from then?”
“I…” Nelson began but stopped as his eyes lost their focus on Sam’s face and glazed over. “Can no longer remember. All I know, Sam, is that I’m far away from the rest of my kind.”
“Your kind? So,” Sam gestured at Nelson’s appearance, “they all look similar to you? Or are you in disguise as a human?”
“They looked similar.” Nelson nodded, though he was uncertain of himself despite the hazy indistinct memories that had begun to form in his mind. “‘Tis Funny, but, all I remember are their faces. Large faces. Surrounded by water. Just…faces.” Nelson closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, as he tried to piece the memories together, but every time he thought he could envisage his kind the image would disperse or warp till it just resembled a distorted version of himself. Nelson efforts were interrupted by a loud crash and he opened his eyes to see Sam lying on the floor looking very confused.
“M’sorry, Nelson.” Sam said, the slur back in his voice. “You were talking about your home.”
“I think I’ve said enough about my home, Sam,” Nelson said smiling, walking round the bar and offering his hand out to Sam, who took it gratefully. “I think it’s time you went home, Sam. Back to your flat,” Nelson clarified, remembering Sam’s earlier words.
“Yeah, my home. Thanks, Nelson,” Sam said, lifting his jacket from the stool and stumbling towards the door.
“Be careful, Sam, and,” Sam turned as he opened the door, to face Nelson, whose lips did not move as his words echoed around Sam’s head, “you’re not alone, Sam.”