Men Get Lost Sometimes [Doctor Who, Mickey Smith, G]
Title: Men Get Lost Sometimes
Author: eyesdelight
Rating: G
Word count: 459
Summary: "One day he crossed some line / And he was too much in this world"
A/N: A brief look at the time between "Age of Steel" and "Army of Ghosts". Original prompt: Mickey Smith: a disastrous vacation/holiday - "They say travel broadens the mind."
The hardest thing to get used to about this world, you decide, is the lack of decent chips. Something about the fat they use, or the temperature they've decided to fry them in, or the tang of vinegar doesn't sit right on your tongue.
And you're reminded that this world is alien. It isn't your Earth, and it will never be yours to call home. This planet already had a you, a you that died, a you that never needed replacing. But you stayed because you wanted to play hero. It's your time to protect the world. It's not your world, but that's what a hero does. He's a strange visitor from another planet, swooping in to save the day and leaving when he's done. No goodbyes, no regrets. Quick in, quick out, head to the next spot of trouble.
You need this life, away from the Doctor and away from Rose. She'll never go back to you, not when she's got the whole of time and space. You can't compete with that. Who could?
Jake teases and jokes with you, chides you when you forget to reload your rifle, and sometimes you almost feel like you belong. Then you catch the flicker in Jake's eyes, watch as he dips his gaze. Ricky's on Jake's mind, and you can't compete with that either.
You once dreamt of trundling across Europe in a beat-up old van with a bunch of mates. Now you're in France one week, Spain the next. Pete Tyler arranges for a zeppelin to Crete, and you follow the coast of Europe, mechanical devastation dotting the shore below the balloon's path. The oceans in this world are gray with run-off from the Cybermen factories.
The blaster in your grimy hands is a Torchwood cast-off, and you're not really sure how it works. The boffins explained it to you once, but you didn't pay attention. All you need to know is point and shoot. This bit's the trigger, the other end's the barrel. Just make sure the Cyberman's in your sights.
Forever burnt into your brain is the box. Your eyes attune to it, to the exact faded color of blue splashed on weathered wood. As weeks wear on to months, as your hope fades, as the Cybermen tumble away from the world one downed factory at a time, you search for the box, for rescue, for return.
And it never shows up.
News comes of a way to straddle the dimensions, of tracking the Cybermen as they phase through from one universe to the next, and you leap at the chance to use it. Not for Rose, not any more. But for the planet you once called home.
It's time to go on holiday.
Author: eyesdelight
Rating: G
Word count: 459
Summary: "One day he crossed some line / And he was too much in this world"
A/N: A brief look at the time between "Age of Steel" and "Army of Ghosts". Original prompt: Mickey Smith: a disastrous vacation/holiday - "They say travel broadens the mind."
The hardest thing to get used to about this world, you decide, is the lack of decent chips. Something about the fat they use, or the temperature they've decided to fry them in, or the tang of vinegar doesn't sit right on your tongue.
And you're reminded that this world is alien. It isn't your Earth, and it will never be yours to call home. This planet already had a you, a you that died, a you that never needed replacing. But you stayed because you wanted to play hero. It's your time to protect the world. It's not your world, but that's what a hero does. He's a strange visitor from another planet, swooping in to save the day and leaving when he's done. No goodbyes, no regrets. Quick in, quick out, head to the next spot of trouble.
You need this life, away from the Doctor and away from Rose. She'll never go back to you, not when she's got the whole of time and space. You can't compete with that. Who could?
Jake teases and jokes with you, chides you when you forget to reload your rifle, and sometimes you almost feel like you belong. Then you catch the flicker in Jake's eyes, watch as he dips his gaze. Ricky's on Jake's mind, and you can't compete with that either.
You once dreamt of trundling across Europe in a beat-up old van with a bunch of mates. Now you're in France one week, Spain the next. Pete Tyler arranges for a zeppelin to Crete, and you follow the coast of Europe, mechanical devastation dotting the shore below the balloon's path. The oceans in this world are gray with run-off from the Cybermen factories.
The blaster in your grimy hands is a Torchwood cast-off, and you're not really sure how it works. The boffins explained it to you once, but you didn't pay attention. All you need to know is point and shoot. This bit's the trigger, the other end's the barrel. Just make sure the Cyberman's in your sights.
Forever burnt into your brain is the box. Your eyes attune to it, to the exact faded color of blue splashed on weathered wood. As weeks wear on to months, as your hope fades, as the Cybermen tumble away from the world one downed factory at a time, you search for the box, for rescue, for return.
And it never shows up.
News comes of a way to straddle the dimensions, of tracking the Cybermen as they phase through from one universe to the next, and you leap at the chance to use it. Not for Rose, not any more. But for the planet you once called home.
It's time to go on holiday.