Mystery Tour of 1973 (fic) Chapter 12
Title: Mystery Tour of 1973
Crossover: Doctor Who/Life on Mars
Parings: Martha/Sam, Sam/Annie
Characters: (this chapter) The Doctor, The TARDIS, Chris, Martha, Jack, Nelson, Sam...ish
Rating: PG
Chapter: 12/?
Spoilers: Season 3 of Doctor Who and Season 2 of Life on Mars
Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I don't own these shows. The BBC, Kudos does.
Author's Comment: My first try at a fanfiction. It's unbetaed and probably full of errors. Please comment, it makes me write. Is anyone actually still reading this? Or have you all given up on me? I don't know; no one seems to comment any more.
Note: The grey text is what has happened in the past... in a wibbly wobbly timey-whimy sense. In... Martha's past; like before it was asked for her to go to 1973. That... made no sense. And I know some expressions and words are a bit iffy; I can't remember the exact spellings/words.
About: The letterbox is inspected, two memories are relived... and is the Master set to return soon?
Previous Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter 10, Chapter 11
Hello? If you read this, like this; please comment. If I get no comments I'm going to stop writing the next chapter because that means no one's enjoying this series and/or reading.
The Doctor 1952
Los Angeles, America, Sol Three
Age 34
“My heart knows a lovely song...”
Sweet grey eyes peered dreamily from under a fringe of chocolate hair and into the crowds below. She sighed blissfully and smiled; her hands propping up her head as she leaned on the bus’ rails.
“Remember when we first met?” she continued, humming a few notes.
“I always will.”
“You say that now; but what if, say, in a hundred or so years, you’ll forget?”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She chuckled softly, lips twisting into a teasing smile, “Don’t promise what you can’t keep.”
“I can keep your heart.”
“Sha questé.”
Softly, gently, tenderly; she feels him smile.
“See anything interesting out there?”
“Oh, but of course,”
“Really? What?”
He was teasing her now; simple, short, elegant and cocky. Now for her taunting reply.
“A million ants swung out onto the dust, building and hurrying in their perky ways. Long gone are the days of soft gentle banter and straight lines; for behold, they have evolved. Sweet tender kisses as lovers stand on street corners; shrill bubbly squeals emit from the young’s mouth. Alas, here is the day of humanity for all its splendour and weakness,”
“Christmas time.”
“I know, eh?” she giggled, before straightening her face and folding it into a frown, “Theta?”
“Yes?”
She turned her head and looked into his eyes, a contemplative look embalming her own.
“What did you... what did you think when you first saw me? All those... 500-and-something days ago when we first met.”
“I thought...” he paused, gathering his words together in a brown-paper bag string, “I was thinking ‘What fantastic creatures grace this planet,’ and... how sweet the sky looks; so blue and bright. I looked into your eyes and knew there was something special about everything here; how that something was you. I thought... how good it was to feel new ground beneath my feet, and how good it felt to be sharing this ground with something as beautiful as you.”
She placed her head on his strong shoulder, her smile creeping back into her cheeks; pleased at his answer.
“I’m still worried, Theta. We are young and reckless; charging into life like a bull in a china shop. What happens when we grow older and wiser, when we’ve seen too much and lost all track of hope?”
“So we are young; but we’ll keep moving because we can never see too much of the universe. We’ll never give up on hope.”
“What happens when we part?”
“That won’t happen.”
“We will die someday.”
“I get to die 13 times, you get to die more. But we won’t part.”
“What we get to look forward to- death and broken glass. My heart might be with you forever, as long as you live and as far as you travel; but I must stay here.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic; we will always be together. Even if your physical form always stays here, I can visit you; our spirits will always fly together. Things can’t change that much.”
The bus hissed to a stop, the vibrations sending the chairs into a shiver of leather and metal. People stood up and got off; people got on and sat down, but the two humanoids didn’t move. Instead they sat there in their reverie slumber, lost in each other’s eyes.
“Don’t be so sure, Theta.” She turned back to the crowds, a sad quiver in her voice,
“Don’t promise what you can’t keep.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The wintry sun folded itself beneath the grey ominous billows; golden rays the only reminder of what once was and what will return, as it disappeared into the forbidding horizon.
“How the hell we gonna get up there?” came an eloquently-put voice.
“Shun the non-believer!” Martha rolled her eyes in good humour, “We can get up there. Look- there is some dustbins along the side wall. You can go up before me and then help me up; if I need any help that is. These shoes aren’t the best for climbing,”
She cast a look back to Chris, who tripped over his own feet as he went to walk towards the dustbins, and decided otherwise, “Actually, best I go before you and help you up,”
At Chris’ ‘kicked puppy’ expression, Martha felt a pang of guilt.
“Sorry but... oh alright. You go before me.” she sighed, defeated.
Chris’ face split into a goofy grin, and heaved up onto the roof, toppling a few bins over in the process.
“Be a little quieter, will you? We’re not exactly meant to be up here. I mean, so what if the owners of the house aren’t home; the neighbours certainly aren’t deaf.” She protested as she cast a wary glance around, before climbing onto the roof herself.
“Sorry.”
There was that puppy look again. Oh boy; how’d he learn to do that? Still, it was adorable.
“There’s the letterbox.”
“Yup. Don't know what the poin’ of it is. No slot for the letters.”
Martha felt her jacket-pocket grow hot. Quickly, she took out the cricket bat and watched in amazement as a secret compartment slid open to reveal a TARDIS key.
“Oh boy.”
Here comes the drums.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Captain Jack Harkness, 1969
Manchester, England, Sol Three
“Forever -
It was a dark and dreamy day, one of those days in which you seem so hopelessly happy at the shadows as you watch them fall; you just know that you’ll be in the shadows one day, but you don’t mind. The sea breeze, all salty and sweet, whipped us into a shimmering smile. Foreshadowing death and sweet strawberry kisses; tight gripping soft doll hands in my own as she spun around in my arms. A flash of a ghost watched us, a salvation in the harrowed days to come; the death and life to us all. I suppose that it was on that day that I realised how brilliantly cursed we were; two immortals locked in a combat of baseball as the sun slips away, setting so slowly. Sweet sixteen.
Do you really want to live forever?
Running away, too fast; growing up into the cursed lady she was always going to be. I saw in the next day the change of her life. Snapped, crushed, broken, shattered; it was like the resuscitation of the dead. The dreams of her played along with her voice as I sleep and crash. Each time I die, I saw her die. I wish I would stop going on, wish she could stop running away.
With a destiny.
We all owe it to her. I wish I didn’t. I wish it weren’t all up to her. I wish I could just sweep her into my arms just once more and sing our song. She ran into the morning and from the shadows. Tossed, swept, and glittered; no diamonds live as long as her smile. May all the good die young.
Forever?
World crashed and burns, a single soul watches from the cinders. Leaping out of the void she comes. The heart, the soul, my world catches alight as she waves goodbye. Softly, softly, gently; here comes the end. It’s something coming and something ending; an end and a beginning twisted into a smirk. Smug-faced and death-defying is the future. Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? I am.
Forever.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I know.” Jack’s hands shake as he lifts up the amnesia pill and puts it in his mouth, “Goodbye Sam.”
He swallows.
“That won’t work. Your memory is too deeply embedded to ever vanish. An angel touched you, Mon Brow. Her fingerprints will always be on your heart,” the bartender paused; half-stroke in his polishing of the beer glass, “And besides; that’s no amnesia pill; I swapped it with a sugar-pill.”
“Why?”
“Some things are worth getting your heart broken for; it’s best you remember who it was.”
“Goodnight Nelson.”
“Goodbye Jack.”
Crossover: Doctor Who/Life on Mars
Parings: Martha/Sam, Sam/Annie
Characters: (this chapter) The Doctor, The TARDIS, Chris, Martha, Jack, Nelson, Sam...ish
Rating: PG
Chapter: 12/?
Spoilers: Season 3 of Doctor Who and Season 2 of Life on Mars
Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I don't own these shows. The BBC, Kudos does.
Author's Comment: My first try at a fanfiction. It's unbetaed and probably full of errors. Please comment, it makes me write. Is anyone actually still reading this? Or have you all given up on me? I don't know; no one seems to comment any more.
Note: The grey text is what has happened in the past... in a wibbly wobbly timey-whimy sense. In... Martha's past; like before it was asked for her to go to 1973. That... made no sense. And I know some expressions and words are a bit iffy; I can't remember the exact spellings/words.
About: The letterbox is inspected, two memories are relived... and is the Master set to return soon?
Previous Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter 10, Chapter 11
Hello? If you read this, like this; please comment. If I get no comments I'm going to stop writing the next chapter because that means no one's enjoying this series and/or reading.
The Doctor 1952
Los Angeles, America, Sol Three
Age 34
“My heart knows a lovely song...”
Sweet grey eyes peered dreamily from under a fringe of chocolate hair and into the crowds below. She sighed blissfully and smiled; her hands propping up her head as she leaned on the bus’ rails.
“Remember when we first met?” she continued, humming a few notes.
“I always will.”
“You say that now; but what if, say, in a hundred or so years, you’ll forget?”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She chuckled softly, lips twisting into a teasing smile, “Don’t promise what you can’t keep.”
“I can keep your heart.”
“Sha questé.”
Softly, gently, tenderly; she feels him smile.
“See anything interesting out there?”
“Oh, but of course,”
“Really? What?”
He was teasing her now; simple, short, elegant and cocky. Now for her taunting reply.
“A million ants swung out onto the dust, building and hurrying in their perky ways. Long gone are the days of soft gentle banter and straight lines; for behold, they have evolved. Sweet tender kisses as lovers stand on street corners; shrill bubbly squeals emit from the young’s mouth. Alas, here is the day of humanity for all its splendour and weakness,”
“Christmas time.”
“I know, eh?” she giggled, before straightening her face and folding it into a frown, “Theta?”
“Yes?”
She turned her head and looked into his eyes, a contemplative look embalming her own.
“What did you... what did you think when you first saw me? All those... 500-and-something days ago when we first met.”
“I thought...” he paused, gathering his words together in a brown-paper bag string, “I was thinking ‘What fantastic creatures grace this planet,’ and... how sweet the sky looks; so blue and bright. I looked into your eyes and knew there was something special about everything here; how that something was you. I thought... how good it was to feel new ground beneath my feet, and how good it felt to be sharing this ground with something as beautiful as you.”
She placed her head on his strong shoulder, her smile creeping back into her cheeks; pleased at his answer.
“I’m still worried, Theta. We are young and reckless; charging into life like a bull in a china shop. What happens when we grow older and wiser, when we’ve seen too much and lost all track of hope?”
“So we are young; but we’ll keep moving because we can never see too much of the universe. We’ll never give up on hope.”
“What happens when we part?”
“That won’t happen.”
“We will die someday.”
“I get to die 13 times, you get to die more. But we won’t part.”
“What we get to look forward to- death and broken glass. My heart might be with you forever, as long as you live and as far as you travel; but I must stay here.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic; we will always be together. Even if your physical form always stays here, I can visit you; our spirits will always fly together. Things can’t change that much.”
The bus hissed to a stop, the vibrations sending the chairs into a shiver of leather and metal. People stood up and got off; people got on and sat down, but the two humanoids didn’t move. Instead they sat there in their reverie slumber, lost in each other’s eyes.
“Don’t be so sure, Theta.” She turned back to the crowds, a sad quiver in her voice,
“Don’t promise what you can’t keep.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The wintry sun folded itself beneath the grey ominous billows; golden rays the only reminder of what once was and what will return, as it disappeared into the forbidding horizon.
“How the hell we gonna get up there?” came an eloquently-put voice.
“Shun the non-believer!” Martha rolled her eyes in good humour, “We can get up there. Look- there is some dustbins along the side wall. You can go up before me and then help me up; if I need any help that is. These shoes aren’t the best for climbing,”
She cast a look back to Chris, who tripped over his own feet as he went to walk towards the dustbins, and decided otherwise, “Actually, best I go before you and help you up,”
At Chris’ ‘kicked puppy’ expression, Martha felt a pang of guilt.
“Sorry but... oh alright. You go before me.” she sighed, defeated.
Chris’ face split into a goofy grin, and heaved up onto the roof, toppling a few bins over in the process.
“Be a little quieter, will you? We’re not exactly meant to be up here. I mean, so what if the owners of the house aren’t home; the neighbours certainly aren’t deaf.” She protested as she cast a wary glance around, before climbing onto the roof herself.
“Sorry.”
There was that puppy look again. Oh boy; how’d he learn to do that? Still, it was adorable.
“There’s the letterbox.”
“Yup. Don't know what the poin’ of it is. No slot for the letters.”
Martha felt her jacket-pocket grow hot. Quickly, she took out the cricket bat and watched in amazement as a secret compartment slid open to reveal a TARDIS key.
“Oh boy.”
Here comes the drums.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Captain Jack Harkness, 1969
Manchester, England, Sol Three
“Forever -
It was a dark and dreamy day, one of those days in which you seem so hopelessly happy at the shadows as you watch them fall; you just know that you’ll be in the shadows one day, but you don’t mind. The sea breeze, all salty and sweet, whipped us into a shimmering smile. Foreshadowing death and sweet strawberry kisses; tight gripping soft doll hands in my own as she spun around in my arms. A flash of a ghost watched us, a salvation in the harrowed days to come; the death and life to us all. I suppose that it was on that day that I realised how brilliantly cursed we were; two immortals locked in a combat of baseball as the sun slips away, setting so slowly. Sweet sixteen.
Do you really want to live forever?
Running away, too fast; growing up into the cursed lady she was always going to be. I saw in the next day the change of her life. Snapped, crushed, broken, shattered; it was like the resuscitation of the dead. The dreams of her played along with her voice as I sleep and crash. Each time I die, I saw her die. I wish I would stop going on, wish she could stop running away.
With a destiny.
We all owe it to her. I wish I didn’t. I wish it weren’t all up to her. I wish I could just sweep her into my arms just once more and sing our song. She ran into the morning and from the shadows. Tossed, swept, and glittered; no diamonds live as long as her smile. May all the good die young.
Forever?
World crashed and burns, a single soul watches from the cinders. Leaping out of the void she comes. The heart, the soul, my world catches alight as she waves goodbye. Softly, softly, gently; here comes the end. It’s something coming and something ending; an end and a beginning twisted into a smirk. Smug-faced and death-defying is the future. Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? I am.
Forever.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I know.” Jack’s hands shake as he lifts up the amnesia pill and puts it in his mouth, “Goodbye Sam.”
He swallows.
“That won’t work. Your memory is too deeply embedded to ever vanish. An angel touched you, Mon Brow. Her fingerprints will always be on your heart,” the bartender paused; half-stroke in his polishing of the beer glass, “And besides; that’s no amnesia pill; I swapped it with a sugar-pill.”
“Why?”
“Some things are worth getting your heart broken for; it’s best you remember who it was.”
“Goodnight Nelson.”
“Goodbye Jack.”