Fic; Another Version of the Truth [5/?], Blue Cortina, By Miss M (LoM/DW Crossover)
*dances* Uh-oh! We're in trouble. Doo-dee-doo-dee-do... ehem.
Title - Another Version of The Truth [5/?]
Fandom - Doctor Who/Life On Mars
Rating - PG...Possibly a really soft R (for language) - I'm rubbish at ratings.
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. In this chapter; In short - The doo-doo hits the fan. Enough said.
Warnings - Language. Slash. Angst. Mild Peril. (lololol.) Spoilers for s1 Life on Mars and The last three episodes of Doctor Who s3.
Disclaimer - I don't own Doctor Who, Life on Mars, or anything else referenced in this fic. If I did, I'd be able to afford that Pagani Zonda...
'Ngh.'
'Good morning to you, too.' The Doctor smiled over his glasses, reading the comic supplement from the paper.
Sam raised a hand to his head and groaned, leaning over the bed to look at the clock. 9.30am.
'Jesus, is that the time?' He grumbled, eyes squinting and hair ruffled. 'I'm late for work.'
The Doctor smirked and took a slurp of tea.
'Oh, you don't remember.' He grinned. 'You rang Gene last night.'
Sam's face screwed up - And The Doctor concentrated on not making a remark about it for fear of sounding like a ridiculous sap.
'I rang Gene?'
'Yup.' The Doctor nodded. 'After the third bottle of wine - you decided to ring him and tell him you had - what was it? Bird flu. Needless to say that it caused much merriment from Gene, who proceeded to call you a massive poof - unsurprisingly, seeing as nobody here has even bloody heard of it - and Gene is really good at taking things exactly as they weren't intended.'
'I told him I had bird flu?' Sam said groggily, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. 'And why haven't you got the hangover from hell? From what I remember you were keeping up with me in the drinking stakes. That's bloody annoying.'
'Yeah - people have often told me I'm annoying.' The Doctor said thoughtfully from behind the paper, before peering over the top of it. 'I can't help it if I'm brilliant.'
'And modest.'
'Exactly.' The Doctor grinned cheesily. 'So, anyway. Gene said that he wouldn't call you in, unless it was an emergency. That could be because you started cooing down the phone about how he was - Oh. What was it?'
Sam shrugged.
'Fookin' Legennnd, maaate.' The Doctor slurred - his best impression of a drunken Mancunian. 'That was it. I think he just wanted to get you off the phone. I don't want to see your phone bill next time around if you've got a habit of drunk-dialling.'
'Yeah, well.' Sam said, looking out of the window. 'Maybe I won't have to be here to pay it.'
The Doctor half smiled. Sam was nothing if not optimistic. Of course, it would've helped if The Doctor truly knew where he was meant to be returning Sam to.
The younger man shifted his back against the headboard, tugging the pillow out from underneath him and putting it behind his head. He folded his hands across his stomach and watched The Doctor - chugging tea, munching on toast and reading his comic. When he thought about it - really thought about it - it was sometimes a little disturbing, just how human this alien could be. To the point where at times it was almost too easy to forget. Too comfortable.
'What?' The Doctor queried, folding up the paper and putting it on the table. 'You're waiting for breakfast in bed? Blimey. One night, and I already feel like a downtrodden housewife.'
'I'm not hungry.' Sam smiled. 'Feeling a bit too delicate for food. I could murder a coffee, though.'
'Oh, well.' The Doctor sighed, getting out of his chair and walking through to the kitchen. 'That, I suppose I can manage.'
'Doctor?' He called, sitting forward slightly.
'Yeah?'
'If you can travel in space and time - why do you spend so much time here?'
The Doctor hovered over the boiling kettle, before turning to lean against the sideboard, eyes turning to the ceiling as he thought about it. He scratched his jaw and furrowed his brow slightly - considering his answer.
'I dunno, really.' He shrugged. 'It's just - I've seen so many planets. Races evolved far beyond Earth. Compared to the rest of the universe, you lot are just babies, really. It's fascinating to watch.'
'Ah. So you're a voyeur?' Sam smirked.
'No, no.' The Doctor cringed. 'I suppose I feel a bit.. protective, in a way. You're so - plucky. Humans. Pluckiest bunch of creatures I've ever met. The odds are stacked against you - and yet you still carry on. Finding the way forward through the dark. It's endearing.'
The Doctor turned to take the whistling kettle off the stove, pouring the steaming water into a prepared mug on the side.
'Do you think it's like, a second chance?'
'How do you mean?' The Doctor said, not turning around.
'I mean - Gallifrey and everything. Would saving us from marching into destruction make you feel any better?'
The Timelord dropped the spoon on the sideboard with a slight clatter, not responding. Ouch.
'Shit.' Sam cursed, not even exactly sure where the last remark came from. 'Sorry. That came out wrong.'
The Doctor turned around, walking over to the bed and handing Sam his coffee. He perched on the end of the bed and shrugged.
'Reasonable question, I suppose. If you're into cod-psychology.'
'I wasn't trying to be-'
'No. It's fine. And d'you want to know the truth?'
Sam nodded.
'I've saved this place from destruction more times than I care to remember - and that's not me boasting.' The Doctor paused, sighing. 'And in answer to your question - No.'
'It doesn't make you feel better?'
'I could save a thousand earths, Sam. A million.' He said, observing his bandaged hands. 'You see - Timelords were connected on a deep psychic level. Not just words, or touch. There was a bond between all of us that never dimmed - no matter where any of us were in the universe. Now they've all gone - and that part of my mind is constantly there - extending it's arms to find something that now, never existed.'
Sam frowned, his fingertips carefully reaching out to touch the Doctor's.
'So all we are, really - is a distraction?'
'Maybe. A welcome one, none the less.' He smiled slightly.
'And you don't think that there might just have been others who survived? Ones who escaped before Gallifrey was destroyed?'
'No.' The Doctor assured. 'If there were any more timelords out there, I'd know about it. I'd be able to sense them.'
'Hm.' Sam said softly, sipping his coffee. 'I suppose sometimes - you just have to make do.'
'Oh, yes.' The Doctor grinned. 'And make do, I do. Besides, I could think of worse ways to spend my time.'
'Like doing Gene's paperwork.'
'Exactamundo.' The Doctor smirked, before wincing. 'God, I hate that word.'
'Me too. Never use it again. Makes you sound like a science teacher trying to be cool.'
'Yeah - Someone else told me that, once.' He pouted slightly. 'Correctamundo?'
'Even worse.'
'Yeah.' He snorted, rubbing his eye. 'Thought so.'
'Doctor?' Sam said pensively. 'You know what you said yesterday, about the - Googly hand thing.'
'Googly hand thing.' The Doctor chuckled. 'I'll remember that if I ever have to explain it to a five year old. Yeah?'
'D'you mind - having a poke around? See what you can find?' He asked, quite innocently.
'Well - if you're sure?'
'No time like the present.' Sam smiled. 'The sooner we find more out about how I get home - the better.'
The Doctor nodded, before rolling his sleeves up.
'Alright - Well, there's a few things you should know. First off - It shouldn't hurt, but it might make you feel a little bit odd. It can wake up memories that you probably never knew you had, and really - that's what we want. Just remember, I don't have to see anything you don't want me to see - and if it gets too much, we can stop whenever you want.'
'Okay.' Sam nodded - shifting, cross legged, towards The Doctor. 'C'mon, then. Hit me.'
The Doctor laughed and moved so that he was sat opposite Sam. He stared into his eyes for a moment before lifting his hands to press his fingertips against his temples. Sam closed his eyes, letting out a slight gasp as he felt the Doctor's presence enter his mind - boring deep into his brain. It felt kind of intimate, in a perverse sort of way. The closest anyone could ever get.
'Just relax.' The Doctor soothed as he stepped carefully among the memories in Sam's head. Family home. Parents. A school. All present and correct, but nothing really all that significant. The only thing that he could glean from them was that they all just fitted in perfectly with Sam's story. He'd definitely come from 2006 - and that did nothing but confound The Doctor further.
Beep...Beep...Beep...
The noise was insistent - covering everything else with a kind of sonic mask.
'You hear this all the time?' The Doctor said softly, listening to what sounded like the steady beat of a heart monitor.
'Constantly.' Sam nodded slightly. 'Sometimes it's louder than others.'
Wake up, darling.
A hushed, androgynous voice intoned over the beeps.
Time to come home.
'Mum.' Sam said quietly.
'How can you tell?'
'I just know.'
The Doctor nodded, and gently pushed deeper. There was something that made him feel terribly uneasy about that voice, but he couldn't quite fathom why. A bright orange explosion flashed in Sam's mind and it took all of his will not to pull away - the brightness of it was almost blinding.
'Screaming.' Sam said, a little panicked. 'I can hear screaming.'
The Doctor froze. Sam had managed to take a glimpse inside his own head - and that was terrifying. It scared him enough - he couldn't imagine what it would be like for a human. He closed his eyes, and imagined a door - just like he advised others to, when undergoing the same procedure.
'You don't want to look in there.' He said darkly.
He caressed Sam's mind, gently - calming him. He had to stick with this, because they were no closer to getting to the bottom of Sam's situation - and he saw it as a last resort. If he found nothing, he'd truly be stumped.
Beep..beep-beep-beep..Beep..beep-beep-beep..Beep.
'What on earth is that?' The Doctor frowned, listening to the faint, staccato sounds just behind the regulated noise of the life-support machine.
'I don't know.' Sam said meekly.
'Look, Sam. I need to know what that is - it might be the clue we're looking for. I need to go deeper.' He said gently. 'You might feel a little dizzy - but it'll pass, okay? Just trust me.'
Sam made a soft sound of agreement and The Doctor forced his mind further - further than anyone should really go. The sounds of the machine slowly faded away, and he felt Sam's hands reach out and tighten around his waist.
da-da-da-dum. da-da-da-dum.
The younger man stayed silent, but The Doctor noted the way Sam's fingers almost immediately started tapping against his body - mimicking the thudding drum-beat inside his head.
'Doctor.' Sam said nervously, swallowing once. 'What's that noise?'
da-da-da-dum. da-da-da-dum.
'I - I don't know.' The Doctor stuttered, shaking his head. 'It was hiding behind the sound of the life-support machine. Disguised.'
Come home. Come home, now. It's time.
'That's not mum.' Sam mumbled, tears springing to his eyes. 'Doctor - Where's my mum gone?'
The Doctor froze, his eyes wide. He knew that voice. Although quite what it was doing inside Sam Tyler's brain, was a complete mystery. He held on to Sam's head with shaking hands, wondering if he might just have opened a Pandora's box that he should never have gone near.
'Romana.' He said aloud before he could stop himself.
Sam looked questioningly at The Doctor, tilting his head a little.
'Who's Romana?'
The Doctor cleared his throat and shook his head.
'Noth- Nobody.' He said, brushing it off as casually as he could to refrain from causing further confusion. 'It's all this fishing around in your brain. Sends me a bit giddy.'
Sam frowned, chewing on his lip.
da-da-da-dum. da-da-da-dum.
'Doctor - Make that stop.' He said, fear rising in his tone. 'I want the machine back. I want my m-'
His plea was cut short by a terrific pain in his head, causing him to pull away from The Doctor's hands - losing the connection. He keeled over on the bed, grasping at his skull and moaning in agony.
'Sam!' The Doctor cried, scrambling across rumpled sheets to kneel over the stricken human. 'Sam, what's wrong?'
'What have you done to me?!' He wailed, squirming to escape the racket inside his mind. 'Why won't it stop?'
da-da-da-dum. da-da-da-dum.
'Why can't you make it stop?!'
The drums throbbed, bouncing around inside Sam's skull - lights flashing in front of his eyes. He curled tighter around himself and let out a long, agonised scream. Unable to watch him suffer anymore, The Doctor swiftly pulled out the Sonic Screwdriver from his pocket and pressed it to Sam's neck. Another howl was cut short as he slumped against the mattress, unconscious.
The Doctor observed him breathlessly, wiping the film of cold, nervous sweat that had formed on his brow. It was definitely Romana's voice that he heard - and the fact that it was inside Sam's head just made this young man even more of a conundrum. He'd gone inside his mind to look for answers, and found nothing but more questions - more questions that made him wonder just exactly who Sam Tyler really was.
Gently, he lifted Sam's limp body up and placed him back into bed, putting a pillow behind his feverish head and tugging the thin blanket over his shoulders. Sam groaned, twisting his body around the sheets - arms batting out at something unseen. The Doctor knealt beside the bed and gently stroked his knuckles over Sam's cheek.
'Oh, Sam Tyler.' He said quietly, pressing his fingers once more against Sam's temple - listening to the constant rhythm that seemed to pervade all other thoughts in his mind. 'You've had some cowboys in here.'
Letting out a sigh, he got to his feet - not seeing a discarded pair of shoes on the floor just behind him. He tripped, stumbling backwards with a yelp of shock and dragging the bedside table with him on his way to the floor. His head thudded against the wall, and he sat - dazed for a moment - before hauling himself back to his knees. He groaned, raking a hand through his hair frustratedly at all of the knick-knacks that had tumbled from the rickety, wooden set of drawers and scattered over the floor. Carefully, he began gathering them up - a wallet, a spare set of keys for the bedsit, and yet more piles of notes about 2006 that Sam had written. He opened the drawer and started to empty them in, when he heard a dull thump against the mucky, patterned carpet.
He stuffed the notes back in the drawer and reached for the object - an old-looking fob watch laying face-down on the floor.
da-da-da-dum. da-da-da-dum.
The Doctor stared at it for a moment. Rummaging around in Sam's brain must've left some kind of impression on his own, because he could still hear those damn, incessant drums.
Rise now, child. It is time.
It took a good few moments for the fact to register, that the sounds weren't coming from inside his head. He didn't realise his hands were shaking before he reached out to grasp the watch. His breathing was rapid as he ran a thumb over it carefully, listening to the silent sounds that were emanating from it and straight into his head.
da-da-da-dum. da-da-da-dum.
He took a deep breath and turned the watch over in his palm. He bit his lip, fingertips tracing the intricate, unique pattern that adorned it's front.
'Sam?' He said, voice trembling as he regarded his sleeping companion and getting a troubled whimper in return.
Wake up, Timelord. Wake up.
The words struck The Doctor like a cold spear through his hearts. He shrank back against the wall, clutching the watch in his trembling hands like his life depended on it.
He'd only ever seen one watch like that before - and it belonged to him.
Another Chamelion Arch.
Suddenly everything began to fall into place. He allowed himself to consider the possibilities.
Oh, the possibilities.
That would explain Sam's confused memories - only brief, insignificant little things. Just the basic facts. If this truly was a Chameleon Arch, then there was every chance that it could have been a more primitive version than his own. It was well known in Timelord circles for the occasional malfunction - leaving the user with memories that had no relevance to their transformation, often sending a transformed Gallifreyan really quite mad - At least until the process had been reversed, freeing them from their oblivious state.
It can't be.
He sniffed, needing to wipe the cold liquid that was running down his cheeks - but not daring to for fear of letting go of the watch. It spoke - again and again, and every time it did - something pulsed inside The Doctor. His mind was reaching out to something, and this time - if only for a brief moment - something was reaching back out to him. He bit down harder on his lip, terrified and unspeakably excited at the same time. The voice was talking to him - filling him with warmth that he'd not felt in what seemed like an age.
He stared down at the watch once more, feeling it throb against his skin.
He couldn't let the feeling leave him. Not now.
Finally, he could see his chance - he needn't be alone anymore.
He looked up at Sam, gripping onto his pillow in a fitful sleep, then back down at his watch. He had to find out, now. He had to know. Not only for his own, slightly selfish reasons - but for the fact that he could help Sam escape his torment. Free him from the confusion that plagued his poor, human mind.
The fact that he could've been with another of his kind the whole time he'd been in 1973 sent shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath - his thumb grazing over the catch on the watch before gritting his teeth and flicking it open.
The watch vibrated in his hands, a bright gold light spilling from it's insides and floating up into the air. It swirled and danced, and The Doctor could do little more than watch it, utterly transfixed.
It drifted down towards him, circling around his face slowly and allowing him to bask in it's familiar warmth before it's formation tightened into a small ball. It swerved violently towards the bed and headed straight towards Sam.
The sleeping man gasped sharply, inhaling the light through his open mouth and arching awkwardly off the bed. The light finally faded, and Sam dropped back onto the mattress - muttering incoherently to himself.
The Doctor clamped a hand to his mouth and shook his head - The connection finally fully restored.
A creeping realisation flowed to each and every nerve ending in his body.
Oh, he wasn't alone alright.
And that was now the most terrifying thing in the universe.
Sam's shoulders began to shake and a slow, creeping grin formed on his impish features. A vague choking sound became a snigger - which became a full, loud, belly laugh - which became a screeching, peal of hysterical cackles.
The Doctor shrank even further against the wall - his breathing now erratic and uncontrollable.
Sam sat up, and turned towards The Doctor, smirking broadly.
'Blimey. You let me out - you must've been desperate, Doctor.'
'S-Sam?' The Doctor struggled, as Sam leapt from the bed and curled his hands around his shirt - his eyes glaring with manic energy.
'What did you just call me?'
The Doctor's body was shivering as though he'd just been shoved in the deep freeze and their eyes met. Sam's forehead pressed against his own - and he grinned, smelling the other man's fear like a bloodhound.
'Go on, Doctor.' He drawled, the Mancunian twang in his accent completely dissipated. 'Say it. Just for me.'
The Doctor's eyes were wild, like a trapped animal waiting for the blade to fall. His lower lip trembled slightly as he floundered over the words - before finally forcing them out like a curse.
'Master.'
Title - Another Version of The Truth [5/?]
Fandom - Doctor Who/Life On Mars
Rating - PG...Possibly a really soft R (for language) - I'm rubbish at ratings.
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. In this chapter; In short - The doo-doo hits the fan. Enough said.
Warnings - Language. Slash. Angst. Mild Peril. (lololol.) Spoilers for s1 Life on Mars and The last three episodes of Doctor Who s3.
Disclaimer - I don't own Doctor Who, Life on Mars, or anything else referenced in this fic. If I did, I'd be able to afford that Pagani Zonda...
'Ngh.'
'Good morning to you, too.' The Doctor smiled over his glasses, reading the comic supplement from the paper.
Sam raised a hand to his head and groaned, leaning over the bed to look at the clock. 9.30am.
'Jesus, is that the time?' He grumbled, eyes squinting and hair ruffled. 'I'm late for work.'
The Doctor smirked and took a slurp of tea.
'Oh, you don't remember.' He grinned. 'You rang Gene last night.'
Sam's face screwed up - And The Doctor concentrated on not making a remark about it for fear of sounding like a ridiculous sap.
'I rang Gene?'
'Yup.' The Doctor nodded. 'After the third bottle of wine - you decided to ring him and tell him you had - what was it? Bird flu. Needless to say that it caused much merriment from Gene, who proceeded to call you a massive poof - unsurprisingly, seeing as nobody here has even bloody heard of it - and Gene is really good at taking things exactly as they weren't intended.'
'I told him I had bird flu?' Sam said groggily, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. 'And why haven't you got the hangover from hell? From what I remember you were keeping up with me in the drinking stakes. That's bloody annoying.'
'Yeah - people have often told me I'm annoying.' The Doctor said thoughtfully from behind the paper, before peering over the top of it. 'I can't help it if I'm brilliant.'
'And modest.'
'Exactly.' The Doctor grinned cheesily. 'So, anyway. Gene said that he wouldn't call you in, unless it was an emergency. That could be because you started cooing down the phone about how he was - Oh. What was it?'
Sam shrugged.
'Fookin' Legennnd, maaate.' The Doctor slurred - his best impression of a drunken Mancunian. 'That was it. I think he just wanted to get you off the phone. I don't want to see your phone bill next time around if you've got a habit of drunk-dialling.'
'Yeah, well.' Sam said, looking out of the window. 'Maybe I won't have to be here to pay it.'
The Doctor half smiled. Sam was nothing if not optimistic. Of course, it would've helped if The Doctor truly knew where he was meant to be returning Sam to.
The younger man shifted his back against the headboard, tugging the pillow out from underneath him and putting it behind his head. He folded his hands across his stomach and watched The Doctor - chugging tea, munching on toast and reading his comic. When he thought about it - really thought about it - it was sometimes a little disturbing, just how human this alien could be. To the point where at times it was almost too easy to forget. Too comfortable.
'What?' The Doctor queried, folding up the paper and putting it on the table. 'You're waiting for breakfast in bed? Blimey. One night, and I already feel like a downtrodden housewife.'
'I'm not hungry.' Sam smiled. 'Feeling a bit too delicate for food. I could murder a coffee, though.'
'Oh, well.' The Doctor sighed, getting out of his chair and walking through to the kitchen. 'That, I suppose I can manage.'
'Doctor?' He called, sitting forward slightly.
'Yeah?'
'If you can travel in space and time - why do you spend so much time here?'
The Doctor hovered over the boiling kettle, before turning to lean against the sideboard, eyes turning to the ceiling as he thought about it. He scratched his jaw and furrowed his brow slightly - considering his answer.
'I dunno, really.' He shrugged. 'It's just - I've seen so many planets. Races evolved far beyond Earth. Compared to the rest of the universe, you lot are just babies, really. It's fascinating to watch.'
'Ah. So you're a voyeur?' Sam smirked.
'No, no.' The Doctor cringed. 'I suppose I feel a bit.. protective, in a way. You're so - plucky. Humans. Pluckiest bunch of creatures I've ever met. The odds are stacked against you - and yet you still carry on. Finding the way forward through the dark. It's endearing.'
The Doctor turned to take the whistling kettle off the stove, pouring the steaming water into a prepared mug on the side.
'Do you think it's like, a second chance?'
'How do you mean?' The Doctor said, not turning around.
'I mean - Gallifrey and everything. Would saving us from marching into destruction make you feel any better?'
The Timelord dropped the spoon on the sideboard with a slight clatter, not responding. Ouch.
'Shit.' Sam cursed, not even exactly sure where the last remark came from. 'Sorry. That came out wrong.'
The Doctor turned around, walking over to the bed and handing Sam his coffee. He perched on the end of the bed and shrugged.
'Reasonable question, I suppose. If you're into cod-psychology.'
'I wasn't trying to be-'
'No. It's fine. And d'you want to know the truth?'
Sam nodded.
'I've saved this place from destruction more times than I care to remember - and that's not me boasting.' The Doctor paused, sighing. 'And in answer to your question - No.'
'It doesn't make you feel better?'
'I could save a thousand earths, Sam. A million.' He said, observing his bandaged hands. 'You see - Timelords were connected on a deep psychic level. Not just words, or touch. There was a bond between all of us that never dimmed - no matter where any of us were in the universe. Now they've all gone - and that part of my mind is constantly there - extending it's arms to find something that now, never existed.'
Sam frowned, his fingertips carefully reaching out to touch the Doctor's.
'So all we are, really - is a distraction?'
'Maybe. A welcome one, none the less.' He smiled slightly.
'And you don't think that there might just have been others who survived? Ones who escaped before Gallifrey was destroyed?'
'No.' The Doctor assured. 'If there were any more timelords out there, I'd know about it. I'd be able to sense them.'
'Hm.' Sam said softly, sipping his coffee. 'I suppose sometimes - you just have to make do.'
'Oh, yes.' The Doctor grinned. 'And make do, I do. Besides, I could think of worse ways to spend my time.'
'Like doing Gene's paperwork.'
'Exactamundo.' The Doctor smirked, before wincing. 'God, I hate that word.'
'Me too. Never use it again. Makes you sound like a science teacher trying to be cool.'
'Yeah - Someone else told me that, once.' He pouted slightly. 'Correctamundo?'
'Even worse.'
'Yeah.' He snorted, rubbing his eye. 'Thought so.'
'Doctor?' Sam said pensively. 'You know what you said yesterday, about the - Googly hand thing.'
'Googly hand thing.' The Doctor chuckled. 'I'll remember that if I ever have to explain it to a five year old. Yeah?'
'D'you mind - having a poke around? See what you can find?' He asked, quite innocently.
'Well - if you're sure?'
'No time like the present.' Sam smiled. 'The sooner we find more out about how I get home - the better.'
The Doctor nodded, before rolling his sleeves up.
'Alright - Well, there's a few things you should know. First off - It shouldn't hurt, but it might make you feel a little bit odd. It can wake up memories that you probably never knew you had, and really - that's what we want. Just remember, I don't have to see anything you don't want me to see - and if it gets too much, we can stop whenever you want.'
'Okay.' Sam nodded - shifting, cross legged, towards The Doctor. 'C'mon, then. Hit me.'
The Doctor laughed and moved so that he was sat opposite Sam. He stared into his eyes for a moment before lifting his hands to press his fingertips against his temples. Sam closed his eyes, letting out a slight gasp as he felt the Doctor's presence enter his mind - boring deep into his brain. It felt kind of intimate, in a perverse sort of way. The closest anyone could ever get.
'Just relax.' The Doctor soothed as he stepped carefully among the memories in Sam's head. Family home. Parents. A school. All present and correct, but nothing really all that significant. The only thing that he could glean from them was that they all just fitted in perfectly with Sam's story. He'd definitely come from 2006 - and that did nothing but confound The Doctor further.
Beep...Beep...Beep...
The noise was insistent - covering everything else with a kind of sonic mask.
'You hear this all the time?' The Doctor said softly, listening to what sounded like the steady beat of a heart monitor.
'Constantly.' Sam nodded slightly. 'Sometimes it's louder than others.'
Wake up, darling.
A hushed, androgynous voice intoned over the beeps.
Time to come home.
'Mum.' Sam said quietly.
'How can you tell?'
'I just know.'
The Doctor nodded, and gently pushed deeper. There was something that made him feel terribly uneasy about that voice, but he couldn't quite fathom why. A bright orange explosion flashed in Sam's mind and it took all of his will not to pull away - the brightness of it was almost blinding.
'Screaming.' Sam said, a little panicked. 'I can hear screaming.'
The Doctor froze. Sam had managed to take a glimpse inside his own head - and that was terrifying. It scared him enough - he couldn't imagine what it would be like for a human. He closed his eyes, and imagined a door - just like he advised others to, when undergoing the same procedure.
'You don't want to look in there.' He said darkly.
He caressed Sam's mind, gently - calming him. He had to stick with this, because they were no closer to getting to the bottom of Sam's situation - and he saw it as a last resort. If he found nothing, he'd truly be stumped.
Beep..beep-beep-beep..Beep..beep-beep-beep..Beep.
'What on earth is that?' The Doctor frowned, listening to the faint, staccato sounds just behind the regulated noise of the life-support machine.
'I don't know.' Sam said meekly.
'Look, Sam. I need to know what that is - it might be the clue we're looking for. I need to go deeper.' He said gently. 'You might feel a little dizzy - but it'll pass, okay? Just trust me.'
Sam made a soft sound of agreement and The Doctor forced his mind further - further than anyone should really go. The sounds of the machine slowly faded away, and he felt Sam's hands reach out and tighten around his waist.
da-da-da-dum. da-da-da-dum.
The younger man stayed silent, but The Doctor noted the way Sam's fingers almost immediately started tapping against his body - mimicking the thudding drum-beat inside his head.
'Doctor.' Sam said nervously, swallowing once. 'What's that noise?'
da-da-da-dum. da-da-da-dum.
'I - I don't know.' The Doctor stuttered, shaking his head. 'It was hiding behind the sound of the life-support machine. Disguised.'
Come home. Come home, now. It's time.
'That's not mum.' Sam mumbled, tears springing to his eyes. 'Doctor - Where's my mum gone?'
The Doctor froze, his eyes wide. He knew that voice. Although quite what it was doing inside Sam Tyler's brain, was a complete mystery. He held on to Sam's head with shaking hands, wondering if he might just have opened a Pandora's box that he should never have gone near.
'Romana.' He said aloud before he could stop himself.
Sam looked questioningly at The Doctor, tilting his head a little.
'Who's Romana?'
The Doctor cleared his throat and shook his head.
'Noth- Nobody.' He said, brushing it off as casually as he could to refrain from causing further confusion. 'It's all this fishing around in your brain. Sends me a bit giddy.'
Sam frowned, chewing on his lip.
da-da-da-dum. da-da-da-dum.
'Doctor - Make that stop.' He said, fear rising in his tone. 'I want the machine back. I want my m-'
His plea was cut short by a terrific pain in his head, causing him to pull away from The Doctor's hands - losing the connection. He keeled over on the bed, grasping at his skull and moaning in agony.
'Sam!' The Doctor cried, scrambling across rumpled sheets to kneel over the stricken human. 'Sam, what's wrong?'
'What have you done to me?!' He wailed, squirming to escape the racket inside his mind. 'Why won't it stop?'
da-da-da-dum. da-da-da-dum.
'Why can't you make it stop?!'
The drums throbbed, bouncing around inside Sam's skull - lights flashing in front of his eyes. He curled tighter around himself and let out a long, agonised scream. Unable to watch him suffer anymore, The Doctor swiftly pulled out the Sonic Screwdriver from his pocket and pressed it to Sam's neck. Another howl was cut short as he slumped against the mattress, unconscious.
The Doctor observed him breathlessly, wiping the film of cold, nervous sweat that had formed on his brow. It was definitely Romana's voice that he heard - and the fact that it was inside Sam's head just made this young man even more of a conundrum. He'd gone inside his mind to look for answers, and found nothing but more questions - more questions that made him wonder just exactly who Sam Tyler really was.
Gently, he lifted Sam's limp body up and placed him back into bed, putting a pillow behind his feverish head and tugging the thin blanket over his shoulders. Sam groaned, twisting his body around the sheets - arms batting out at something unseen. The Doctor knealt beside the bed and gently stroked his knuckles over Sam's cheek.
'Oh, Sam Tyler.' He said quietly, pressing his fingers once more against Sam's temple - listening to the constant rhythm that seemed to pervade all other thoughts in his mind. 'You've had some cowboys in here.'
Letting out a sigh, he got to his feet - not seeing a discarded pair of shoes on the floor just behind him. He tripped, stumbling backwards with a yelp of shock and dragging the bedside table with him on his way to the floor. His head thudded against the wall, and he sat - dazed for a moment - before hauling himself back to his knees. He groaned, raking a hand through his hair frustratedly at all of the knick-knacks that had tumbled from the rickety, wooden set of drawers and scattered over the floor. Carefully, he began gathering them up - a wallet, a spare set of keys for the bedsit, and yet more piles of notes about 2006 that Sam had written. He opened the drawer and started to empty them in, when he heard a dull thump against the mucky, patterned carpet.
He stuffed the notes back in the drawer and reached for the object - an old-looking fob watch laying face-down on the floor.
da-da-da-dum. da-da-da-dum.
The Doctor stared at it for a moment. Rummaging around in Sam's brain must've left some kind of impression on his own, because he could still hear those damn, incessant drums.
Rise now, child. It is time.
It took a good few moments for the fact to register, that the sounds weren't coming from inside his head. He didn't realise his hands were shaking before he reached out to grasp the watch. His breathing was rapid as he ran a thumb over it carefully, listening to the silent sounds that were emanating from it and straight into his head.
da-da-da-dum. da-da-da-dum.
He took a deep breath and turned the watch over in his palm. He bit his lip, fingertips tracing the intricate, unique pattern that adorned it's front.
'Sam?' He said, voice trembling as he regarded his sleeping companion and getting a troubled whimper in return.
Wake up, Timelord. Wake up.
The words struck The Doctor like a cold spear through his hearts. He shrank back against the wall, clutching the watch in his trembling hands like his life depended on it.
He'd only ever seen one watch like that before - and it belonged to him.
Another Chamelion Arch.
Suddenly everything began to fall into place. He allowed himself to consider the possibilities.
Oh, the possibilities.
That would explain Sam's confused memories - only brief, insignificant little things. Just the basic facts. If this truly was a Chameleon Arch, then there was every chance that it could have been a more primitive version than his own. It was well known in Timelord circles for the occasional malfunction - leaving the user with memories that had no relevance to their transformation, often sending a transformed Gallifreyan really quite mad - At least until the process had been reversed, freeing them from their oblivious state.
It can't be.
He sniffed, needing to wipe the cold liquid that was running down his cheeks - but not daring to for fear of letting go of the watch. It spoke - again and again, and every time it did - something pulsed inside The Doctor. His mind was reaching out to something, and this time - if only for a brief moment - something was reaching back out to him. He bit down harder on his lip, terrified and unspeakably excited at the same time. The voice was talking to him - filling him with warmth that he'd not felt in what seemed like an age.
He stared down at the watch once more, feeling it throb against his skin.
He couldn't let the feeling leave him. Not now.
Finally, he could see his chance - he needn't be alone anymore.
He looked up at Sam, gripping onto his pillow in a fitful sleep, then back down at his watch. He had to find out, now. He had to know. Not only for his own, slightly selfish reasons - but for the fact that he could help Sam escape his torment. Free him from the confusion that plagued his poor, human mind.
The fact that he could've been with another of his kind the whole time he'd been in 1973 sent shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath - his thumb grazing over the catch on the watch before gritting his teeth and flicking it open.
The watch vibrated in his hands, a bright gold light spilling from it's insides and floating up into the air. It swirled and danced, and The Doctor could do little more than watch it, utterly transfixed.
It drifted down towards him, circling around his face slowly and allowing him to bask in it's familiar warmth before it's formation tightened into a small ball. It swerved violently towards the bed and headed straight towards Sam.
The sleeping man gasped sharply, inhaling the light through his open mouth and arching awkwardly off the bed. The light finally faded, and Sam dropped back onto the mattress - muttering incoherently to himself.
The Doctor clamped a hand to his mouth and shook his head - The connection finally fully restored.
A creeping realisation flowed to each and every nerve ending in his body.
Oh, he wasn't alone alright.
And that was now the most terrifying thing in the universe.
Sam's shoulders began to shake and a slow, creeping grin formed on his impish features. A vague choking sound became a snigger - which became a full, loud, belly laugh - which became a screeching, peal of hysterical cackles.
The Doctor shrank even further against the wall - his breathing now erratic and uncontrollable.
Sam sat up, and turned towards The Doctor, smirking broadly.
'Blimey. You let me out - you must've been desperate, Doctor.'
'S-Sam?' The Doctor struggled, as Sam leapt from the bed and curled his hands around his shirt - his eyes glaring with manic energy.
'What did you just call me?'
The Doctor's body was shivering as though he'd just been shoved in the deep freeze and their eyes met. Sam's forehead pressed against his own - and he grinned, smelling the other man's fear like a bloodhound.
'Go on, Doctor.' He drawled, the Mancunian twang in his accent completely dissipated. 'Say it. Just for me.'
The Doctor's eyes were wild, like a trapped animal waiting for the blade to fall. His lower lip trembled slightly as he floundered over the words - before finally forcing them out like a curse.
'Master.'