Fic; Another Version of The Truth [2/?], By Miss M, Green Cortina
I wrote another bit! :-O Muchos gracias for the feedback on chapter one <3
Title - Another Version of The Truth [2/?]
Fandom - Doctor Who/Life On Mars
Rating - PG for now.
Summary - AU. The TARDIS lands The Doctor in 1973. He meets an intriguing man called Sam Tyler - This is the story of what happens next.
Warnings - Slash. Some strong language and sexual references. Spoilers for Series 1 of Life on Mars at least, and will contain spoilers for at least the last three episodes of Doctor Who series 3.
Chapter One.
'So, how come you never told me your name, John Smith?'
Sam sat, cross-legged with questioning eyes, at one end of the bed whilst The Doctor, or John Smith, (or whatever he was bloody called) rested with his feet up, head propped against one solitary pillow. He shifted slightly, and brought the cup of tea to his lips, taking a considered sip. He eyed Sam for a moment, as if weighing up wether he should really be telling him this.
'Because it isn't.' He said plainly, leaning on one elbow as he continued to watch the man at the end of the bed, the expression on his face bordering on suspicion.
'But you told the Guv' that-'
The Doctor shook his head slowly.
'It's just a name I have. In case anyone asks, well-' The Doctor interrupted himself, puffing his cheeks out slightly. 'Around here, anyway.'
'What - Manchester?'
Sam's nose wrinkled.
'So, who're you on the run from? All this pseudonym bollocks. John Smith, The Doctor. There must be someone after you. Nobody changes their name all the time for the hell of it. Unless they're a nutter, of course.'
The Doctor couldn't help but snort into his teacup.
'Maybe I'm both.'
Sam's face cracked into a broad grin.
'Eh, you're harmless enough. If you were gonna do me in, you'd have done it by now.'
The Doctor smirked and rolled onto his stomach, a bony arm reaching down to place the teacup on the floor by the bed. He turned back again, flopping backwards with a groan. The giddiness of alcohol was short lived, and soon replaced by a dull throbbing in his skull. Sam tilted his head and watched him rub his temples.
'Want some painkillers?'
'Ooh, no.' He winced, sucking in air through pursed lips. 'I'm.. allergic.'
'Ah.'
'Yeah.' The Doctor nodded, furrowing his brow a little. 'Head swells up like a balloon, and it might kill me. And you really don't want to be around if that happens, trust me.'
Sam stared at him for a moment, struck dumb by the bizarreness of that last statement. He shook his head and cleared his throat, remembering that wouldn't be the first time that someone around here had said something bloody odd.
'And what about you, Sam Tyler?' The Doctor said, leaning forward. 'What was all that about before? About being out of your time? I'd say I'm not the only one being a bit of an enigma round here.'
'Honestly,' Sam laughed, shaking his head. 'I mean what I said before - you wouldn't believe me if I told you.'
'Try me.'
There was something about the look on the Doctor's face that made Sam think that maybe, just for once, he might be able to tell someone about what had happened to him without them recommending that he visit a shrink. Annie listened, of course. Annie always listened - even if she did always have a look on her face that said her mind was just telling her to smile and nod, let the crazy man waffle on.
'I had an accident.' He paused momentarily, taking a deep breath. 'In 2006.'
'Right.'
The Doctor's face didn't even show a hint of a flinch. Strange.
'And now - I'm here. In 1973.'
Another deep breath.
'I - I don't know if I'm really here, you know? It feels real. All this. Completely real.'
'But?'
'All the time, in my head - I can hear 2006.' Sam swallowed. 'I can hear the life support machine beeping... constantly. I can hear my mum talking to me - telling me to wake up, and that I'll be coming home soon.'
The Doctor just nodded. Sam was sure he couldn't have heard of anything like this before, so why was he so calm? There again, he supposed, he did say he was a Doctor..
'The only thing that I can assume, is that I'm in a coma in 2006, and this is all just going on in my head. You're not real. I'm not even real! I'm a figment of my own imagination. How bloody cracked is that?'
The Doctor didn't say anything. He was stumped, if he was honest. He knew Sam was real, and he certainly knew he was real - so quite how Sam had ended up in 1973 was somewhat of a conundrum.
'Oh, I don't know.' The Doctor smiled, 'You wouldn't believe some of the things I've heard.'
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the evening wore on, Sam showed him his notes on 2006 - His little package that reassured him that he really wasn't a nutter. The Doctor read carefully, black glasses perched on the end of his nose. All the details were so fine-pointed, so minute -technological advances and even the spec of his mobile phone - This wasn't the work of someone who was confused about where they came from.
'So?' Sam said as the other man closed the book. 'Am I insane?'
'No.'
'And you would know this, how - exactly?' He smiled, a small smile of relief. 'Don't tell me. You're a time traveller - and you decided that you'd drop in on 1973 for a teabreak?'
'Well, now you mention it..'
'Oh, piss off.' Sam scoffed. 'Now I know I'm imagining all of this.'
'Sam.' The Doctor said flatly. 'I can assure you that you're not. I'm real - you're real. All of this is completely real. The only question is, how you managed to get here in the first place.'
'And what question do you think I've been asking since I got here?' Sam snapped, before rubbing his face in exasperation. 'Jesus Christ. I've found the one person who's more mental than I am.'
'I'm not mental!' The Doctor cried. 'Well. Maybe a bit. But that's not the point! All I can assume from what's happened, is that somehow when you had the accident - you somehow managed to slip through some kind of rift in time. I don't know how, and I don't know why, but-'
'That doesn't explain the noises in my head though, does it?' He frowned. 'If I'm here, then there'd be no hospital bed, no Mum telling me to wake up - No beeping.'
'Yeah.' The Doctor nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. 'That's where I'm stuck, too. Unless of course, it's just a side-effect of the accident. Knock to the head can do funny things to someone.'
'Oh, this is ridiculous!' Sam groaned, throwing himself back on the bed. 'I don't believe I even entertained that thought for a bloody second. Time rifts? Christ.'
'I can prove it to you.' Came the response - an earnest voice and a steely expression that made Sam sit up and take note.
'And if I'm right - if you can just open your mind to the prospect that maybe - just maybe - I'm telling the truth, then Sam Tyler - I might just be able to get you home.'
-----------------------------------------------------------
Sam and The Doctor walked together towards the bank of the Canal. They'd seen Moll from the cafe as she left, greeting her with a cheery wave and getting a rather bemused look in return.
'I thought you were tired, Sam!' She smiled as she bustled away, laden with shopping bags.
Sam frowned, tugging his coat tighter around himself in the biting wind.
Bloody Manchester weather. It's July for christ's sake!
The moonlight vanished as they walked under the bridge and he found himself walking closer to The Doctor. Gene had told him what it was like round this way at night.
'Foul bastard creatures round that way, Tyler. Junkies, muggers and fairies - A congregation of the scum of the earth. If you know what's good for you, you'll keep out of there after dark. Leave the bastards to it.
He couldn't manage to repress the grin that tugged at his mouth. Good old Gene - always ready with a kind word in your shell-like. He wondered if he'd miss him when he was safely back in 2006. That thought was quickly replaced with a stern telling off for believing that The Doctor wasn't mad and wasn't talking out of his arse.
Christ. What if he's a murderer? What if he's done all this just to get me down here, roger me to death and then dump me in the canal?
Then he cursed himself again for thinking that if his last memory was getting buggered by the Doctor, then it better be something worth remembering. Go out with a bang, so to speak. After all, it could be worse. At least he's not a bad looking bloke - not some sweaty, hairy, tattooed beast in a string vest looming over-
Gladys.
'Shut up, Gene.'
He inadvertently said the last part out loud, causing the Doctor to glance over his shoulder.
'You're an odd one, Sam Tyler.'
'I could say the same about you, Doctor.' Sam smirked, shaking his head. 'And why exactly are you bringing me down here?'
'I've got something to show you.'
I bet you say that to all your victims.
'Oh.' He nodded, thankful that his previous thought didn't manage to escape via his mouth. They stopped at the other end of the bridge, and The Doctor's face lit up.
'Here we are!'
Sam glared at The Doctor, then stared at the blue police box in front of him.
'Yeah. Very fucking funny, Doc.' He sneered, about to walk away.
'Wait! Don't you want to see inside?' The Timelord grinned, patting the door affectionately.
'I think I know what the inside of a police call-box looks like, thanks very much.' He scowled, stalking away and flicking the V's behind him. 'Bloody piss-taker.'
'Oh Sam, wait!' He groaned, chasing after him and placing a hand on his shoulder. 'Please, just-'
'Gerroff me!' Sam yelled, shrugging away. 'We're not far from the street, you know. People'll hear me shouting for 'elp!'
'Help? What - Sam, what are you talking about?' The Doctor frowned, confused - before the realisation hit him. 'Oh you - What?'
He let out a high-pitched cackle.
'Oh, Sam. No.' He chortled, pointing his thumb back at the box. 'That's my time machine.'
'Have I got 'Mug' written on my bastard forehead?!' Sam bellowed, shoving The Doctor's shoulder aggressively. 'You know what, I don't know who to be more bloody angry at. You for wasting my bloody time - or me for thinking for a microsecond that you weren't talking bollocks.'
He snarled, turning on his heels and stalking back towards the darkness beneath the bridge. The Doctor frowned, but didn't chase him. He chewed his lower lip for a moment, before racing back towards The TARDIS and disappearing inside.
'Stupid bastard.' Sam swore darkly, his feet stamping against the uneven Tarmac. His stomach tightened and he swallowed hard, trying not to be upset that he'd been taken in by something so ridiculous in the hope that he might actually get home this time. He continued to curse and scowl as he walked until something at the mouth of the tunnel stopped him dead in his tracks. He squinted away from a bright light, managing to pin himself against the wall as an unbelievably strong gust of wind, seemingly from out of nowhere, blasted him backwards.
His breathing unsteady, he dug his fingers into the damp stone bricks - just about able to make out an oblong shape through his half-closed eyes, and it was making a noise like he'd never heard before, in either year he'd resided. He bit his lip, every nerve in his body telling him to run. Whatever this thing was, it was frightening him and he couldn't even figure out why.
Eventually, the noise faded to nothing and everything once again became calm. The Manchester breeze was still cold, but it certainly wasn't enough to blow him into the Canal. The light dimmed and his eyes opened again slowly. In front of him, stood the same blue police box that The Doctor had tried to get him into just moments before. The exact same one. And unless it was made of cardboard, he really couldn't imagine that a skinny bloke like The Doctor would be able to sneak it around to it's current position. He stepped forward gingerly, rapping his knuckles against the door - just to prove to himself that it really wasn't made of cardboard.
'Oi!' The Doctor shouted as he swung the door open, sending Sam staggering backwards a couple of steps. 'D'you mind?'
'Jesus.' Sam said breathlessly, pointing a shaking finger at The TARDIS. 'How - How did you do that?'
'Told you.' He grinned. 'It's a time machine. C'mon!'
He disappeared back inside and Sam carefully walked forwards. He swallowed, rubbing his hand along the blue-painted wood before pushing the door open.
It's a time machine.
He repeated in his mind as he stepped inside. The sheer vastness of the interior almost ripping the air from his lungs in an almighty gasp. He stood for a moment, eyes wildly studying the walls and everything it contained. Every last detail. A calming hum seemed to emanate from the walls, and he wondered if he was the only one who could hear it. He wondered just why exactly - despite it's completely alien appearance and his initial fear - this place seemed so very... comfortable.
'TARDIS, this is Sam. Sam -' The Doctor paused, a mischevious grin on his face. 'This is the TARDIS. Still think I'm going to kill you and dump your body in the canal?'
'No.' He said quietly, still taking everything in. breathing it in.
He shook his head vigorously, snapping out of whatever reverie he may have been in.
'So - This sleek little number is my ticket back home, eh?'
'Well, I suppose that depends.' The Doctor said, leaning against the console - wide eyes raised to the ceiling.
'Depends? Depends on what?!' Sam barked, exasperated. He was in no mood for games.
'Well,' He said, reaching inside his coat pocket and pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. He passed it over to Sam and he pouted slightly. 'I always regretted never getting to see him live..'
Sam looked puzzled for a moment as he unfurled the yellowing newspaper, straightening it out before reading it's contents aloud.
'Marc Bolan and T-Rex - Live at the Ritz Ballroom, July 31st.'
He chuckled and shook his head, throwing the advert back to The Doctor.
'Doctor, I think you've got yourself a deal.'
Title - Another Version of The Truth [2/?]
Fandom - Doctor Who/Life On Mars
Rating - PG for now.
Summary - AU. The TARDIS lands The Doctor in 1973. He meets an intriguing man called Sam Tyler - This is the story of what happens next.
Warnings - Slash. Some strong language and sexual references. Spoilers for Series 1 of Life on Mars at least, and will contain spoilers for at least the last three episodes of Doctor Who series 3.
Chapter One.
'So, how come you never told me your name, John Smith?'
Sam sat, cross-legged with questioning eyes, at one end of the bed whilst The Doctor, or John Smith, (or whatever he was bloody called) rested with his feet up, head propped against one solitary pillow. He shifted slightly, and brought the cup of tea to his lips, taking a considered sip. He eyed Sam for a moment, as if weighing up wether he should really be telling him this.
'Because it isn't.' He said plainly, leaning on one elbow as he continued to watch the man at the end of the bed, the expression on his face bordering on suspicion.
'But you told the Guv' that-'
The Doctor shook his head slowly.
'It's just a name I have. In case anyone asks, well-' The Doctor interrupted himself, puffing his cheeks out slightly. 'Around here, anyway.'
'What - Manchester?'
Sam's nose wrinkled.
'So, who're you on the run from? All this pseudonym bollocks. John Smith, The Doctor. There must be someone after you. Nobody changes their name all the time for the hell of it. Unless they're a nutter, of course.'
The Doctor couldn't help but snort into his teacup.
'Maybe I'm both.'
Sam's face cracked into a broad grin.
'Eh, you're harmless enough. If you were gonna do me in, you'd have done it by now.'
The Doctor smirked and rolled onto his stomach, a bony arm reaching down to place the teacup on the floor by the bed. He turned back again, flopping backwards with a groan. The giddiness of alcohol was short lived, and soon replaced by a dull throbbing in his skull. Sam tilted his head and watched him rub his temples.
'Want some painkillers?'
'Ooh, no.' He winced, sucking in air through pursed lips. 'I'm.. allergic.'
'Ah.'
'Yeah.' The Doctor nodded, furrowing his brow a little. 'Head swells up like a balloon, and it might kill me. And you really don't want to be around if that happens, trust me.'
Sam stared at him for a moment, struck dumb by the bizarreness of that last statement. He shook his head and cleared his throat, remembering that wouldn't be the first time that someone around here had said something bloody odd.
'And what about you, Sam Tyler?' The Doctor said, leaning forward. 'What was all that about before? About being out of your time? I'd say I'm not the only one being a bit of an enigma round here.'
'Honestly,' Sam laughed, shaking his head. 'I mean what I said before - you wouldn't believe me if I told you.'
'Try me.'
There was something about the look on the Doctor's face that made Sam think that maybe, just for once, he might be able to tell someone about what had happened to him without them recommending that he visit a shrink. Annie listened, of course. Annie always listened - even if she did always have a look on her face that said her mind was just telling her to smile and nod, let the crazy man waffle on.
'I had an accident.' He paused momentarily, taking a deep breath. 'In 2006.'
'Right.'
The Doctor's face didn't even show a hint of a flinch. Strange.
'And now - I'm here. In 1973.'
Another deep breath.
'I - I don't know if I'm really here, you know? It feels real. All this. Completely real.'
'But?'
'All the time, in my head - I can hear 2006.' Sam swallowed. 'I can hear the life support machine beeping... constantly. I can hear my mum talking to me - telling me to wake up, and that I'll be coming home soon.'
The Doctor just nodded. Sam was sure he couldn't have heard of anything like this before, so why was he so calm? There again, he supposed, he did say he was a Doctor..
'The only thing that I can assume, is that I'm in a coma in 2006, and this is all just going on in my head. You're not real. I'm not even real! I'm a figment of my own imagination. How bloody cracked is that?'
The Doctor didn't say anything. He was stumped, if he was honest. He knew Sam was real, and he certainly knew he was real - so quite how Sam had ended up in 1973 was somewhat of a conundrum.
'Oh, I don't know.' The Doctor smiled, 'You wouldn't believe some of the things I've heard.'
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the evening wore on, Sam showed him his notes on 2006 - His little package that reassured him that he really wasn't a nutter. The Doctor read carefully, black glasses perched on the end of his nose. All the details were so fine-pointed, so minute -technological advances and even the spec of his mobile phone - This wasn't the work of someone who was confused about where they came from.
'So?' Sam said as the other man closed the book. 'Am I insane?'
'No.'
'And you would know this, how - exactly?' He smiled, a small smile of relief. 'Don't tell me. You're a time traveller - and you decided that you'd drop in on 1973 for a teabreak?'
'Well, now you mention it..'
'Oh, piss off.' Sam scoffed. 'Now I know I'm imagining all of this.'
'Sam.' The Doctor said flatly. 'I can assure you that you're not. I'm real - you're real. All of this is completely real. The only question is, how you managed to get here in the first place.'
'And what question do you think I've been asking since I got here?' Sam snapped, before rubbing his face in exasperation. 'Jesus Christ. I've found the one person who's more mental than I am.'
'I'm not mental!' The Doctor cried. 'Well. Maybe a bit. But that's not the point! All I can assume from what's happened, is that somehow when you had the accident - you somehow managed to slip through some kind of rift in time. I don't know how, and I don't know why, but-'
'That doesn't explain the noises in my head though, does it?' He frowned. 'If I'm here, then there'd be no hospital bed, no Mum telling me to wake up - No beeping.'
'Yeah.' The Doctor nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. 'That's where I'm stuck, too. Unless of course, it's just a side-effect of the accident. Knock to the head can do funny things to someone.'
'Oh, this is ridiculous!' Sam groaned, throwing himself back on the bed. 'I don't believe I even entertained that thought for a bloody second. Time rifts? Christ.'
'I can prove it to you.' Came the response - an earnest voice and a steely expression that made Sam sit up and take note.
'And if I'm right - if you can just open your mind to the prospect that maybe - just maybe - I'm telling the truth, then Sam Tyler - I might just be able to get you home.'
-----------------------------------------------------------
Sam and The Doctor walked together towards the bank of the Canal. They'd seen Moll from the cafe as she left, greeting her with a cheery wave and getting a rather bemused look in return.
'I thought you were tired, Sam!' She smiled as she bustled away, laden with shopping bags.
Sam frowned, tugging his coat tighter around himself in the biting wind.
Bloody Manchester weather. It's July for christ's sake!
The moonlight vanished as they walked under the bridge and he found himself walking closer to The Doctor. Gene had told him what it was like round this way at night.
'Foul bastard creatures round that way, Tyler. Junkies, muggers and fairies - A congregation of the scum of the earth. If you know what's good for you, you'll keep out of there after dark. Leave the bastards to it.
He couldn't manage to repress the grin that tugged at his mouth. Good old Gene - always ready with a kind word in your shell-like. He wondered if he'd miss him when he was safely back in 2006. That thought was quickly replaced with a stern telling off for believing that The Doctor wasn't mad and wasn't talking out of his arse.
Christ. What if he's a murderer? What if he's done all this just to get me down here, roger me to death and then dump me in the canal?
Then he cursed himself again for thinking that if his last memory was getting buggered by the Doctor, then it better be something worth remembering. Go out with a bang, so to speak. After all, it could be worse. At least he's not a bad looking bloke - not some sweaty, hairy, tattooed beast in a string vest looming over-
Gladys.
'Shut up, Gene.'
He inadvertently said the last part out loud, causing the Doctor to glance over his shoulder.
'You're an odd one, Sam Tyler.'
'I could say the same about you, Doctor.' Sam smirked, shaking his head. 'And why exactly are you bringing me down here?'
'I've got something to show you.'
I bet you say that to all your victims.
'Oh.' He nodded, thankful that his previous thought didn't manage to escape via his mouth. They stopped at the other end of the bridge, and The Doctor's face lit up.
'Here we are!'
Sam glared at The Doctor, then stared at the blue police box in front of him.
'Yeah. Very fucking funny, Doc.' He sneered, about to walk away.
'Wait! Don't you want to see inside?' The Timelord grinned, patting the door affectionately.
'I think I know what the inside of a police call-box looks like, thanks very much.' He scowled, stalking away and flicking the V's behind him. 'Bloody piss-taker.'
'Oh Sam, wait!' He groaned, chasing after him and placing a hand on his shoulder. 'Please, just-'
'Gerroff me!' Sam yelled, shrugging away. 'We're not far from the street, you know. People'll hear me shouting for 'elp!'
'Help? What - Sam, what are you talking about?' The Doctor frowned, confused - before the realisation hit him. 'Oh you - What?'
He let out a high-pitched cackle.
'Oh, Sam. No.' He chortled, pointing his thumb back at the box. 'That's my time machine.'
'Have I got 'Mug' written on my bastard forehead?!' Sam bellowed, shoving The Doctor's shoulder aggressively. 'You know what, I don't know who to be more bloody angry at. You for wasting my bloody time - or me for thinking for a microsecond that you weren't talking bollocks.'
He snarled, turning on his heels and stalking back towards the darkness beneath the bridge. The Doctor frowned, but didn't chase him. He chewed his lower lip for a moment, before racing back towards The TARDIS and disappearing inside.
'Stupid bastard.' Sam swore darkly, his feet stamping against the uneven Tarmac. His stomach tightened and he swallowed hard, trying not to be upset that he'd been taken in by something so ridiculous in the hope that he might actually get home this time. He continued to curse and scowl as he walked until something at the mouth of the tunnel stopped him dead in his tracks. He squinted away from a bright light, managing to pin himself against the wall as an unbelievably strong gust of wind, seemingly from out of nowhere, blasted him backwards.
His breathing unsteady, he dug his fingers into the damp stone bricks - just about able to make out an oblong shape through his half-closed eyes, and it was making a noise like he'd never heard before, in either year he'd resided. He bit his lip, every nerve in his body telling him to run. Whatever this thing was, it was frightening him and he couldn't even figure out why.
Eventually, the noise faded to nothing and everything once again became calm. The Manchester breeze was still cold, but it certainly wasn't enough to blow him into the Canal. The light dimmed and his eyes opened again slowly. In front of him, stood the same blue police box that The Doctor had tried to get him into just moments before. The exact same one. And unless it was made of cardboard, he really couldn't imagine that a skinny bloke like The Doctor would be able to sneak it around to it's current position. He stepped forward gingerly, rapping his knuckles against the door - just to prove to himself that it really wasn't made of cardboard.
'Oi!' The Doctor shouted as he swung the door open, sending Sam staggering backwards a couple of steps. 'D'you mind?'
'Jesus.' Sam said breathlessly, pointing a shaking finger at The TARDIS. 'How - How did you do that?'
'Told you.' He grinned. 'It's a time machine. C'mon!'
He disappeared back inside and Sam carefully walked forwards. He swallowed, rubbing his hand along the blue-painted wood before pushing the door open.
It's a time machine.
He repeated in his mind as he stepped inside. The sheer vastness of the interior almost ripping the air from his lungs in an almighty gasp. He stood for a moment, eyes wildly studying the walls and everything it contained. Every last detail. A calming hum seemed to emanate from the walls, and he wondered if he was the only one who could hear it. He wondered just why exactly - despite it's completely alien appearance and his initial fear - this place seemed so very... comfortable.
'TARDIS, this is Sam. Sam -' The Doctor paused, a mischevious grin on his face. 'This is the TARDIS. Still think I'm going to kill you and dump your body in the canal?'
'No.' He said quietly, still taking everything in. breathing it in.
He shook his head vigorously, snapping out of whatever reverie he may have been in.
'So - This sleek little number is my ticket back home, eh?'
'Well, I suppose that depends.' The Doctor said, leaning against the console - wide eyes raised to the ceiling.
'Depends? Depends on what?!' Sam barked, exasperated. He was in no mood for games.
'Well,' He said, reaching inside his coat pocket and pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. He passed it over to Sam and he pouted slightly. 'I always regretted never getting to see him live..'
Sam looked puzzled for a moment as he unfurled the yellowing newspaper, straightening it out before reading it's contents aloud.
'Marc Bolan and T-Rex - Live at the Ritz Ballroom, July 31st.'
He chuckled and shook his head, throwing the advert back to The Doctor.
'Doctor, I think you've got yourself a deal.'