Fic: If You Were I: "John" 1/5
Title: If You Were I: "John"
Author: alex_caligari
Beta: jellybean728
Characters/Pairings: Doctor!Rose, Companion!Nine
Rating: PG
Summary: A blonde, an explosion, and a leather jacket.
Disclaimer: All puppets still firmly attached to the BBC.
Author's Notes: About a year ago, I was given a prompt about a gender/role-swapped Doctor and Companion, called "If You Were I". I decided that it needed to be fleshed out, and here is the result. With enough motivation it might become a 'verse all of it's own.
Most people would be concerned if their workplace blew up. I wasn’t.
Most people would be happy to be dragged off by an insane yet beautiful blonde. I wasn’t.
Most people would also never get a chance to move beyond their 9-to-5 lifestyles. I did.
15 years of training, experience, and hard work, and all I managed was to get Chief Electrician printed above my name at Harrods. Usually I worked after the store had closed, so as not to disturb customers looking for the latest celebrity fragrance, but sometimes plugs didn’t wait to short out.
Perhaps if the new kid hadn’t grabbed the wrong wire, shocked himself silly, and then sat sweating over a burned thumb while informing us he didn’t have health coverage, I wouldn’t have been in my office still filling out paperwork looking for loopholes about foreign workers when I heard it.
It was a scuffling sound, like someone searching through a rack of clothes. My office was right by the Employees Only exit, so I knew the custodial staff had already left. I tensed, hesitated, and finally headed towards it with my mobile in my hand. I debated turning on the lights but didn’t want to spook whoever it was. Maybe it was a crazy junkie or something; although what they would be doing in Harrods I had no idea.
On the other hand, maybe I did want to spook them. They might just run off scared with no harm done. So I flicked on the main switch. As I blinked away spots, I caught movement of someone ducking behind a cashier’s desk. I gripped my mobile tighter and walked towards it.
I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I call out? Stay quiet? Phone the police? I was no security guard. “Um,” I started, and instantly changed my mind about that plan. I needed to sound tough, authoritative, and ‘um’ was no way to start.
I walked towards the cashier’s desk near the centre of the department, carefully avoiding the clothes racks and mannequins scattered around. I rounded the corner of the desk and blinked at what I saw.
A young woman was crouched on the ground with one hand reaching underneath the register and pulling at wires. When she saw me she froze, and we stared at each other.
“Hey,” I tried to say in an accusing voice.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” she said, hand still beneath the register.
Her response came a little too soon in the script I had formed in my mind, but I continued anyway. “I know exactly what you’re doing,” I said. “You snuck in here and hid until the store closed, and plan to fill your pockets with as much stuff as you can carry. You should know that the police are on their way as we speak to lock you up.” I even waggled my mobile at her.
She looked from my face to the mobile. “Very little of the statement makes sense,” she said. “Once the store is closed, how would I get out? I’d still have to walk past the security device detector things the next morning, and if you already called the police, why risk coming out here to tell me?”
I took a beat too long in answering. “Stand up!” I said. “Empty your pockets! Let me see what you’ve taken.”
She stood and smiled at me. I’d never had occasion the use the term ‘disarming’ to describe a smile, but I could think of no other word for it. It wasn’t a threatening smile, nor a sheepish one. It was warm and inviting, in the way that an old schoolmate would look when planning a prank.
“I’m no common thief after some jewellery,” she said. “I’m here with a much more important purpose.”
“What’s that?”
She reached in her jacket pocket and pulled out a square-ish tangle of wires. “I’m blowing this place up.” She was still smiling.
Suddenly I wished I really had called the police. “What are you, some kind of activist or something?”
She laughed. “I guess so. An activist of life, for life. It’s a fault of mine.” Her eyes darted behind me and I glanced in the same direction.
Even as I turned my head I cursed my stupidity. It was a ruse to distract me, and I was very likely going to get a cracked skull for my trouble.
My attention was caught, however. One of the mannequins I walked by earlier had changed position. Its arm was raised and it was turned more fully towards us. As I watched, its other arm came up, and it took a jerky step forward.
“Holy shit,” I muttered. “What kind of activists are you?”
Another mannequin began moving, and was joined by a third. I heard whirring and beeping behind me but couldn’t stop watching the strange scene. I soon realized that all the dummies in the department were moving toward us.
“You’re right, I lied about the police. Let’s call this a mistake of youth and we both forget about it. I let you go quietly and you leave. What do you say, huh?” I glanced back to her and saw that the square-ish bomb was blinking rapidly and she was still grinning.
She grabbed my hand. “Run!”
We dashed through door after door until we hit the street, heat and smoke following close on our heels. We kept running until we were beyond the reach of the sirens hurrying towards the explosion. She had let go of me long ago but I kept up with her.
“What’s your name?” she asked, hardly winded after our mad sprint.
“John,” I said, trying not to pant and failing, “John Tyler.”
She laughed. “A man with two first names? That’s excellent. ‘John, run!’ ‘Tyler, look out!’ It works on so many levels.”
“And you? We sort of skipped over the introductions.”
“Right! I always forget about those.” She stuck out her hand and I shook it a little reluctantly. “I’m called the Doctor.”
“Seriously?”
“Among other things less polite.”
“Good to meet you,” I said. The streetlights gave a strange tint to her blonde hair, and she looked small but athletic. “So, uh, what was that we were running from? Because it looked like...”
“Shop dummies. Plastic shop window dummies that suddenly came to life and started chasing after us. Is that what it looked like?”
Feeling foolish, I answered, “Yes.”
“Good. ‘Cause that’s exactly what it was. Nice coat, by the way.”
I automatically glanced down at the leather jacket, smelling slightly charred from the explosion. “Thanks,” I muttered. When I looked up she was already walking away down an alley. “Hey, wait!”
She turned but didn’t stop walking. “Yeah?”
I caught up to her and matched her pace. I was suddenly at a loss for words. She was a criminal, perhaps a violent terrorist, and I was acting as if I wanted to chat her up for a drink. Which, if she wasn’t clearly half-mad, I might have done already. So like an idiot, I said the first thing that came to mind. “Am I going to see you again?”
She smiled at me, and I was willing to forget all that business with the bomb. “If you’re very lucky. You won’t find anyone else like me. I’m one of a kind.”
“I believe that,” I murmured.
“No, but really,” she said. She stopped walking and stared hard at me, smile gone. “I’m the only one left. I’m the only one who can still feel it.” She grabbed my hand again and I jumped at the contact. “Living on this tiny planet with so many other people, how can you stand it? They’re all moving so fast, hardly stopping, and they’re gone so quickly. All those hearts beating together, ticking away. Some of them are so lonely and they don’t even know why. All they want is a hand to hold, and if they let go...” She dropped my hand.
I stood breathless, waiting.
She moved away from me, walking back down the alley. “Look for that hand to hold, John Tyler. Don’t forget that.” She rounded a corner and by the time I reached it, she was gone.
Chapter 2
Author: alex_caligari
Beta: jellybean728
Characters/Pairings: Doctor!Rose, Companion!Nine
Rating: PG
Summary: A blonde, an explosion, and a leather jacket.
Disclaimer: All puppets still firmly attached to the BBC.
Author's Notes: About a year ago, I was given a prompt about a gender/role-swapped Doctor and Companion, called "If You Were I". I decided that it needed to be fleshed out, and here is the result. With enough motivation it might become a 'verse all of it's own.
Most people would be concerned if their workplace blew up. I wasn’t.
Most people would be happy to be dragged off by an insane yet beautiful blonde. I wasn’t.
Most people would also never get a chance to move beyond their 9-to-5 lifestyles. I did.
15 years of training, experience, and hard work, and all I managed was to get Chief Electrician printed above my name at Harrods. Usually I worked after the store had closed, so as not to disturb customers looking for the latest celebrity fragrance, but sometimes plugs didn’t wait to short out.
Perhaps if the new kid hadn’t grabbed the wrong wire, shocked himself silly, and then sat sweating over a burned thumb while informing us he didn’t have health coverage, I wouldn’t have been in my office still filling out paperwork looking for loopholes about foreign workers when I heard it.
It was a scuffling sound, like someone searching through a rack of clothes. My office was right by the Employees Only exit, so I knew the custodial staff had already left. I tensed, hesitated, and finally headed towards it with my mobile in my hand. I debated turning on the lights but didn’t want to spook whoever it was. Maybe it was a crazy junkie or something; although what they would be doing in Harrods I had no idea.
On the other hand, maybe I did want to spook them. They might just run off scared with no harm done. So I flicked on the main switch. As I blinked away spots, I caught movement of someone ducking behind a cashier’s desk. I gripped my mobile tighter and walked towards it.
I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I call out? Stay quiet? Phone the police? I was no security guard. “Um,” I started, and instantly changed my mind about that plan. I needed to sound tough, authoritative, and ‘um’ was no way to start.
I walked towards the cashier’s desk near the centre of the department, carefully avoiding the clothes racks and mannequins scattered around. I rounded the corner of the desk and blinked at what I saw.
A young woman was crouched on the ground with one hand reaching underneath the register and pulling at wires. When she saw me she froze, and we stared at each other.
“Hey,” I tried to say in an accusing voice.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” she said, hand still beneath the register.
Her response came a little too soon in the script I had formed in my mind, but I continued anyway. “I know exactly what you’re doing,” I said. “You snuck in here and hid until the store closed, and plan to fill your pockets with as much stuff as you can carry. You should know that the police are on their way as we speak to lock you up.” I even waggled my mobile at her.
She looked from my face to the mobile. “Very little of the statement makes sense,” she said. “Once the store is closed, how would I get out? I’d still have to walk past the security device detector things the next morning, and if you already called the police, why risk coming out here to tell me?”
I took a beat too long in answering. “Stand up!” I said. “Empty your pockets! Let me see what you’ve taken.”
She stood and smiled at me. I’d never had occasion the use the term ‘disarming’ to describe a smile, but I could think of no other word for it. It wasn’t a threatening smile, nor a sheepish one. It was warm and inviting, in the way that an old schoolmate would look when planning a prank.
“I’m no common thief after some jewellery,” she said. “I’m here with a much more important purpose.”
“What’s that?”
She reached in her jacket pocket and pulled out a square-ish tangle of wires. “I’m blowing this place up.” She was still smiling.
Suddenly I wished I really had called the police. “What are you, some kind of activist or something?”
She laughed. “I guess so. An activist of life, for life. It’s a fault of mine.” Her eyes darted behind me and I glanced in the same direction.
Even as I turned my head I cursed my stupidity. It was a ruse to distract me, and I was very likely going to get a cracked skull for my trouble.
My attention was caught, however. One of the mannequins I walked by earlier had changed position. Its arm was raised and it was turned more fully towards us. As I watched, its other arm came up, and it took a jerky step forward.
“Holy shit,” I muttered. “What kind of activists are you?”
Another mannequin began moving, and was joined by a third. I heard whirring and beeping behind me but couldn’t stop watching the strange scene. I soon realized that all the dummies in the department were moving toward us.
“You’re right, I lied about the police. Let’s call this a mistake of youth and we both forget about it. I let you go quietly and you leave. What do you say, huh?” I glanced back to her and saw that the square-ish bomb was blinking rapidly and she was still grinning.
She grabbed my hand. “Run!”
We dashed through door after door until we hit the street, heat and smoke following close on our heels. We kept running until we were beyond the reach of the sirens hurrying towards the explosion. She had let go of me long ago but I kept up with her.
“What’s your name?” she asked, hardly winded after our mad sprint.
“John,” I said, trying not to pant and failing, “John Tyler.”
She laughed. “A man with two first names? That’s excellent. ‘John, run!’ ‘Tyler, look out!’ It works on so many levels.”
“And you? We sort of skipped over the introductions.”
“Right! I always forget about those.” She stuck out her hand and I shook it a little reluctantly. “I’m called the Doctor.”
“Seriously?”
“Among other things less polite.”
“Good to meet you,” I said. The streetlights gave a strange tint to her blonde hair, and she looked small but athletic. “So, uh, what was that we were running from? Because it looked like...”
“Shop dummies. Plastic shop window dummies that suddenly came to life and started chasing after us. Is that what it looked like?”
Feeling foolish, I answered, “Yes.”
“Good. ‘Cause that’s exactly what it was. Nice coat, by the way.”
I automatically glanced down at the leather jacket, smelling slightly charred from the explosion. “Thanks,” I muttered. When I looked up she was already walking away down an alley. “Hey, wait!”
She turned but didn’t stop walking. “Yeah?”
I caught up to her and matched her pace. I was suddenly at a loss for words. She was a criminal, perhaps a violent terrorist, and I was acting as if I wanted to chat her up for a drink. Which, if she wasn’t clearly half-mad, I might have done already. So like an idiot, I said the first thing that came to mind. “Am I going to see you again?”
She smiled at me, and I was willing to forget all that business with the bomb. “If you’re very lucky. You won’t find anyone else like me. I’m one of a kind.”
“I believe that,” I murmured.
“No, but really,” she said. She stopped walking and stared hard at me, smile gone. “I’m the only one left. I’m the only one who can still feel it.” She grabbed my hand again and I jumped at the contact. “Living on this tiny planet with so many other people, how can you stand it? They’re all moving so fast, hardly stopping, and they’re gone so quickly. All those hearts beating together, ticking away. Some of them are so lonely and they don’t even know why. All they want is a hand to hold, and if they let go...” She dropped my hand.
I stood breathless, waiting.
She moved away from me, walking back down the alley. “Look for that hand to hold, John Tyler. Don’t forget that.” She rounded a corner and by the time I reached it, she was gone.
Chapter 2