Oh god...this kind of embarrasses me. Ah well, onwards and upwards.
Title: The Beginning (of my Self-Indulgence) - Part One
Series (Story number): The Self Indulgence Saga (1): Part One| Part Two
Summary: I indulge in some serious fanwankery and meet the Doctor in Toronto for some reason. Oh god, where has my sense of pride gone?
Rating: PG for potential swearing
Characters/pairings: Ten, Me, Lots of my friends eventually
Disclaimer: Obviously, I own myself, but everyone else is not mine. That would be creepy
Author's notes: I actually waver between feeling very, very guilty about this and feeling rather proud of my writing. So I’m posting it. We’ll see.
***
It’s 4:15 PM in Toronto and it’s Pretend to be a Time Traveler Day. It’s Saturday (as I could never pull it off on a school day) and I’m nearly finished with my charade. Sean and Hayley have gone home together to Sean’s because they were cold (at least, that’s what their characters said) and Deirdre’s character went to Liverpool (also Sean’s) with Leah’s character. I told them that I’d be along shortly, but I had to try to finish my mission first. This partially meant that I wanted to try to find the yarn I needed to knit my scarf in Kensington Market, but was also rather to do with the fact that I hadn’t seen anyone participating in the Day that I hadn’t organized into doing it. I hadn’t even seen that one Torontonian guy on the website dressed as the Fourth Doctor and I had thought that was a given, although also given the size of Toronto, I suppose it really wasn’t. But I think to myself that if I do find him anywhere, it will be in Kensington Market, so I am walking up Spadina, still about a block away from Dundas.
As my character Gavin Multitudes, I’ve messed my hair so that it sticks out at weird angles like a red haystack and I’m wearing a big, canary-yellow trenchcoat with my wallet and a small notebook and pencil in the pockets. Walking against the wind, I am severely chilled despite three layers of clothing (I have tights on under my jeans) but I am having marvellous fun letting my coat billow backwards and I lift my arms up slightly to give my coat more room to move, as I turn left onto Dundas. My coat now flips sideways in the wind and I realize just how cold my hands are. As I reach the corner of a small street, I stop to take my red gloves out of my pockets and put them on. Glancing to and fro to check for cars, I notice a man walking up the side street towards Dundas wearing a fantastic trenchcoat. It’s possibly the closest match to Ten’s camel-coloured coat I’ve ever seen. I wonder briefly if I am imagining him a brown pinstriped suit due to the event of the day. It’s clearly brown but it’s too far away to be certain of the pinstripes. Then I notice what look like Converse of some sort and I’m nearly certain.
‘Finally,’ I think. ‘Someone else participating in the Day.’ I decide to take it seriously. After all, I’ve been waiting all day to do my sub-plotline. Feeling nervous, as I am just about to roleplay in public to a stranger (although he is dressed up, so it should be okay…) I pull out my notebook and pretend to consult the entry I wrote the previous night. It is a “list of time travellers to look out for” that Gavin figured out at her school in the year 2156. She meant to go to the 1960’s to stop her government from staying in power, but she went to the 2000’s by mistake and broke her time travelling device in the process. The reason she needs the Doctor, or any time traveller, really, is to get to where she needs to be and then home. I glance down at my notebook, up again at my fellow celebrator, pretend to realise who he is, then determinedly start out towards him. It’s easy for me, as I’m walking with the wind but not nearly as much for the man. His hair is whipping backwards and around his face and his coat is acting like a bit of a parachute, pulling against him. As I get closer, I am increasingly impressed by the accuracy of his costume. It looks like he’s really spent some serious time on it. Getting another attack of nerves, I look down at my notebook again then look up. He’s noticed that I’m coming purposefully towards him and he’s looking back at me. For the first time, I get a good look at his face and I suddenly find it much harder to breathe. My mind starts a bit of a chant of ‘No, no, no, no.’ Any sort of thoughts I’m having are ridiculous. The man is definitely just a lookalike. There is no way that David Tennant would be wandering about Toronto dressed up as the Doctor. It’s the stupidest idea ever and I’m an idiotic fangirl just for having it. I take a deep breath and keep walking. He’s just a really good lookalike and this will be, like, the best roleplay ever. Plus, I remember, I have a disposable camera with me. How awesome! I’ll be able to show everyone else this guy’s great costume. It’s th-
My thoughts in this vein suddenly cut off as I get close enough to talk and any doubt is removed from my mind. There’s no way that’s not David Tennant. It is definitely and clearly him. I can’t see any film crews anywhere, so I assume that he was in Toronto for some reason and couldn’t resist the lure of Pretend to be a Time Traveller Day. This is possibly now the best day EVER and I am terribly pleased for my camera. I wonder briefly whether or not to stay in character and decide for it. It’s the geekiest thing ever but David must be expecting it if he’s dressed up as the Doctor.
“Oh my virtual god,” I say, not having to act my excitement. “It’s you!”
“What about me?” he asks, having to yell against the wind. I notice that he’s using the Doctor’s English accent rather than his own Scottish one. This encourages me, as he is obviously staying in character.
“I studied you at my school,” I start to say at a nearly breathless speed, trying to get out my backstory before he interrupts me, or worse, leaves. “So I know you can help me. I meant to be in the 60’s but my time travelling device broke…and then a hobo kind of stole it. But I need to be there because my government had been controlling their power through time manipulation to prevent temporal fluctuation.” There’s a brief moment of what I feel is an incredibly awkward silence and then he tries to yell something at me but the wind blows his words away. He moves much closer (my heart practically leaps into my throat) and says, “What school?”
“The Jonah Erikson College of Temporal Study.” David frowns and looks like he’s thinking for a while.
“I’ve never heard of it,” he says finally.
‘Jeez, way to play along, Tennant,’ I think, then say, “Well, it is top secret.”
“Ah,” says David. “So why exactly do you need a ride to the 60’s?” It’s at about this point that I realise that I never actually figured out what the event Gavin needed to change in the past was. Luckily, after a moment of freezing up, I remember what a horrible student Gavin is.
“Um,” I stall, then flip through my notebook. “I think a man buys something…in a shop…in May.”
“Well, that certainly narrows it down,” says David, grinning.
“Yeah,” I say, now feverishly wishing that I hadn’t decided to stay in character. I would much rather be fangirling all over David Tennant than sweating feverishly as I air out my pitiful improv skills. “I can’t read my writing very well of the notes I took in school. Uh…and I didn’t take a lot of notes.”
David blinks, then asks, “What time are you from?” I hope he isn’t going to hold my story up against Doctor Who backstory because I hardly have a clue.
“It was the year 2156 when I left.” David mutters something to himself.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing, nothing,” he says, flapping a hand dismissively. “It’s only that I’m not used to this universe. Your 2156 sounds nothing like mine at all.” I suppose that this is his way of ironing out any discrepancies with our backstories: by inventing a parallel universe.
‘Clever idea,’ I think, as he says, “Look, I’ll make a deal with you.”
“What kind of deal?” I say, wondering exactly where he’s trying to lead this roleplay.
“I’ll get you to the 60’s-that was where you wanted to go, wasn’t it?-if you help me get back to my ship. People keep rushing at me, left and right, when I least expect it. I only just got away from the last one, mad girl-I had to run through residential areas for five minutes! Five minutes before she gave up and that was with me hiding behind a dustbin!”
“No kidding,” I say, trying to communicate my utter disgust at fangirls and conveniently forgetting that I am one myself.
“So, will you do it?” he asks. “I mean, I am assuming you know this city better than I do and that you haven’t just arrived.” I find this a silly question. Of course I live here!
“The D-you do have a tendency to mostly stay in Britain on Earth,” I say, smiling.
“It’s nice there,” he says defensively.
“Yeah, I know this city,” I say. “I, uh…came here six months ago so I’ve had time to figure stuff out. Where’d you leave your…ship?” I add, feeling rather silly saying it. What does he actually want? Does he need to get somewhere or something? I have a sudden irrational fear that I really am just speaking to a really good lookalike who is trying to get me into an alley or something so he can mug and/or rape me. I take another long look at his face, trying to be subtle about it and am reassured by his obvious Tennantness. He gives me street names, then and I have no clue where they are, due to my horrendous lack of knowledge on the city in which I live.
“I…don’t actually know where those are,” I say awkwardly. He looks a little distressed and one of his hands goes up to fiddle with his ear, which I notice because I can’t help it.
“No special roundabout ways to get there you know of, then?” he says. I shake my head ‘no’.
“But the way you were heading is something of a main street,” I say, “so you probably don’t want to go there.” He says something angry-sounding that I don’t quite catch.
“Well,” he says, matter-of-factly, “there’s hardly a way for me to get you to the 60’s if I can’t get to the TARDIS without being mobbed.” I feel a little sorry for him.
“I could ask someone for directions for you,” I say, slipping mostly out of character.
“No, I know where it is,” he says, “I just can’t get there. Well, not right now, anyway. I’ll have to wait until late, late night. Do you know,” he adds a little hysterically, “one of them tried to pull out some of my hair!”
“That’s rather creepy,” I agree. “Isn’t there someone you can call to give you a ride to where you need to be?”
“Haven’t got a phone on me.”
“You can borrow mine,” I offer, reaching into my pocket past my camera to take it out. David shakes his head.
“No, and it’s an alternate universe, so I don’t really know anyone anyway.” I think there’s such a thing as being too committed to your role.
“You’re mad!” I say laughingly and then realise that I’ve just insulted David Tennant. He doesn’t seem to mind, although he does look slightly confused. I suddenly laugh as I get back into the spirit of things.
“You could get a disguise,” I suggest. “We can make one right now. I mean, you being dressed up as the-I mean, the way you are is only making you more noticeable. Here,” I say, unwinding my long grey scarf from my neck and handing it to him, “wrap this around your face like against the cold. Then when they can’t see your face you could be, like, any, um-“ I want to say fan but I am back in character, so I stop talking as he takes my scarf from me and follows my advice.
“I don’t understand this universe at all,” he says, his voice muffled behind the scarf. “What now?” I think for a bit. Obviously, if anyone pays attention to him for too long, they’ll realise who he is, scarf or not. And his costume is pretty recognisable for any fan anywhere. I feel briefly thrilled as I consider suggesting that we change coats to break up the obviousness of his costume but I soon realise that that would hinder more than help, due to the bright, eye-catching nature of my coat.
“Button up your coat so they can’t see the suit,” I suggest instead, and he does so, leaning down in a strange hobble to button down to the bottom. He looks up at me with an expression that says, “Well?” and I look back at him with the eye of an obsessed fan. “Maybe try and make your hair look different?” I say, wondering if he’s only recognisable because I know it’s him. David looks exasperated and runs his hands over his hair so it plasters down. “That’s all I’ve got,” I say, shrugging.
“Well then,” he says and his eyes light up in what is probably a smile under my scarf. “Let us put your disguise to the test-what’s your name?”
“L-Gavin. Gavin Multitudes,” I say. David snorts in amusement and I pretend to be offended.
“Right, then, Gavin Multitudes,” he says. “We’ll see what happens. Allons-y!” He turns back the way he came and walks. It is a highly enthusiastic walk and I have to majorly speed walk just to maintain a reasonable distance behind him, occasionally running a little to catch up. We walk down back streets until I have completely lost my bearing and when I see a big street coming up, I have no clue what it is and I’m a little surprised when it turns out to be Queen.
“We’ll have to cross there,” he says, pointing at a crosswalk that is a little way along. He gives me a mischievous glance and holds out his hand at me. “With luck, everyone will look at you and not me.” I fight off another excitement attack, roll my eyes and casually take his hand.
‘First chance I get,’ I think, as we turn onto Queen and walk, ‘I am calling someone. This is so much beyond cool.’ I have a little panicky attack over who to call first, then realise that it doesn’t actually matter due to everyone being at Sean’s. By the time I realise this, we have already crossed the street with nary a crazed fan in sight. ‘Sweet, it actually worked,’ I think and then wonder if my dad will kill me for the long-distance hours if I call Marion’s cell phone. As I think this, I notice that David has changed his gait, if only because I am able to keep up with him. He is taking small quick steps that make him bounce slightly and actually disguise him just as well as the rest of the ‘disguise’ does.
‘Wow,’ I think admiringly. ‘That’s really very clever.’ We turn off of Queen and he begins to walk normally again, kind of dragging me along.
“You’re quite slow, aren’t you,” he says cheerfully.
“How far away is this place?” I say, feeling rather put-upon.
“Not long,” he says. This is a lie. We walk (or in my case, run) for what feels like ages down another huge series of similar-looking back streets. Then, we reach a relatively big intersection but I am too distracted to notice the street names. At the side of a building across the street from us is the freakin’ TARDIS! Well, a police box, anyway, I remind myself. There are about four dressed-up people about my age and older standing around it, looking excited. David heads straight for it and I can’t believe he was actually serious about the ‘TARDIS’. I wonder what the hell we are possibly going to do when we get to it…what is it, a photo opportunity? As David gets closer to the ‘TARDIS’ (as do I, but no-one cares about me) my fellow ‘time travellers’ notice who he is despite the disguise and talk excitedly to each other. Forgetting again that I too am a creepy Doctor Who (and David Tennant) fan, I instantly worry arrogantly that THESE fans are going to be a lot less cool than I am being. Then I come up with what I think is a rather clever idea and is, for all I know, the truth.
“Wait,” I say, pulling on David’s hand to stop him, then letting go and running over to the fans, feeling rather neat and adventurous. I glance back and see that David is still standing on the other side of the street, waiting with his arms crossed. The fans look at me excitedly.
“Hey!” says one who is wearing a loud, checkered jacket and golden pants.
“Dude!” says another in tailcoats and moon boots. “Is this your TARDIS? It’s amazing!” Her friends all agree. “How about your friend? Where’d he get his costume?” It seems they haven’t recognised him after all.
“Yeah, it’s incredible,” says a short guy in a SCUBA suit, goggles and a kilt. I feel cold just looking at him. “I wish I’d had his luck with a costume. I wanted to go as Ten, but-“
“Okay, guys,” I interrupt, leaning in. “Yeah, it’s our TARDIS. Um, and there are hidden cameras-are you okay with that?” They nod, and the fourth one says, “Hells yeah!” He hasn’t really dressed up.
“Right, so, you might want to act casual, because this might end up on TV, or at least YouTube, okay? Cool?”
“What are we supposed to do, then?” says Tailcoats Girl. I swallow nervously and try to improvise, as I didn’t actually think about this as part of the plan. As usual.
“Act natural,” I say finally. “Just don’t try to, uh, touch ‘the Doctor’ or get into his TARDIS, I guess.”
“Right on,” says Checkered Jacket Guy, giving me thumbs-ups. I ‘thumbs-up’ him back and run back over to David.
“Everything set up, then?” asks David. “What were you saying anyway?”
“They think they’re going to be on television,” I say. David nods.
“Ah, I see. That’s quite clever, actually, appealing to human vanity. It’s almost something I might have thought of. Good job.”
“That’s a bit of a double-sided compliment,” I snort. “Quite humble of you.” He starts to say something but I remember something and interrupt him. “Oh, yeah, you should probably ‘take off your disguise’. It will back up my story.” David raises his eyebrows at me.
“You’re sure? I like this coat, I don’t want anything happening to it. I got it from Janis Joplin, you know,” he adds cheerfully.
“Yeah, I know,” I say, at this point out of character again. “It’ll be okay.” David makes a strange noise, then hands me back my scarf. I flip it around my neck, thinking something irrational like, ‘I’ll never wash it again,’ and then realise that this is totally untrue because that would be gross.
“Come on,” says David impatiently, looking at me and tousling his hair back to normal. He starts to walk towards the ‘TARDIS’ and the wind billows out his coat.
“No way!” yells SCUBA Suit as he gets a good look at who the guy in the Tenth Doctor costume actually is. The others react in much the same way, except for the uncostumed guy who doesn’t seem to understand why they’re so worked up. David is nearly at the TARDIS and I watch from across the street, wondering if he’ll go in like I assumed he would. While watching, I start to feel a little embarrassed. David Tennant is used to fans, he was just asking for help in character. And I’d been taking him far too seriously. Across the street, David is saying something to the fans and I start to walk over as he pulls what I assume is his key out of his jacket, leans over to unlock the door and slips into the TARDIS, closing the door behind him. When I get there, he still hasn’t come out.
‘What does he want me to do?’ I wonder, ‘get into a three by three foot box with him?’ I smirk and decide against it. Maybe the box is built against an actual door and he’s gone into the building behind. Ignoring the gushing from Tailcoats Girl, I peer around the side of the TARDIS and am greeted by the sight of a foot wide gap and a brick wall. I walk all the way around just to be certain, then stand in front of it, trying to decide what to do. The door opens slightly and David leans out.
“Well, Gavin Multitudes,” he says laughingly, “are you coming in or not?” I give him an incredulous look.
“In, of course,” I say. “If you’re sure.”
“I won’t be if you take much longer,” he says.
“One sec,” I say, pulling out my cellphone. He sighs overdramatically and leans back in, closing the door. I flip open my phone, go to Leah’s cell and decide to send her a quick text message.
“Omfg,” I type, “met david tennant dressed as doctor. More later. In tardis.” I press send, close the phone, put it back in my pocket and try the door. It’s still unlocked.
‘Here goes,’ I think and slip sideways through the door, my back facing the inside as I shut the door carefully.
“What exactly am I-nuuuhhhhhh?” I say as I turn around and see the TARDIS’ central hub, looking a little bit weird from an angle I don’t generally see it at onscreen. Overwhelmed by confusion, excitement and a small amount of fear, I suddenly find it very hard to breathe and slide down against the door until I reach the ground. David comes over to look at me.
“Oh for-I thought I wouldn’t HAVE this problem with a time traveller,” he says exasperatedly.
“What are you still do-th-t-talking about that for?” I say. ‘Where am I?”
“That’s even worse than the question I generally get,” he says, rolling his eyes. “The other one I can understand, it’s a difficult concept for a non-Time Lord to comprehend. But ‘Where am I’? You just walked in!”
“So...so, you’re...actually the Doctor?” I stutter, feeling a little ridiculous.
“Brilliant!” he says sarcastically. “You’ve just topped your previous question. I didn’t think you could do it!”
“But you’re fictional!” I want to say, but don’t. Thinking as rationally as I can under the circumstances, I realise that this is either the Doctor, or David Tennant has gone mad and somehow got himself a TARDIS. I find the first one more believable, plus I remember D-the Doctor has been talking about being from an alternate universe (although as this IS Tenth Doctor, I have no idea how he’s done it without punching horrible holes in the side of reality, or for that matter, if he’s done it, why the hell Rose isn’t with him, because, well, I mean, come ON!).
‘Well,’ I think, ‘wow. This is ama-ooh.’ Suddenly, out of anything I could be feeling at this point, I feel unbearably awkward. I’ve been roleplaying all this time at the Doctor, while he’s just been being himself. I feel a compulsive need to explain myself, and look up. The Doctor is still looking at me, somewhat expectantly, with a small amount of derision that forces me to take a deep breath before continuing.
“Sorry,” I say, “never mind, I get it now. Will it make you feel better if I ask why it’s bigger on the inside, because you won’t explain properly anyway.” I feel briefly pleased at how confused he has started looking. “Um, I need to explain something a little awkward. You can hook the TARDIS up to the internet, right?”
“Yes,” says the Doctor.
“Help me up, please,” I say, extending my hand towards him. “My knees don’t seem to be working properly right now.” He grabs my hand and hoists me up, then opens his mouth to speak, closes it and walks over to the TARDIS’ computer. “Oh, wait,” I say, “there’s something else I need to say first.” An almost terrible calm feels like it has descended over me. The Doctor looks up at me from the screen and I lean back against the door and swallow. “My name isn’t really Gavin Multitudes, it’s Leah Masterson. And I’m not a time traveller, I was born in 1989. I was just participating in Worldwide ‘Pretend to be a Time Traveller Day’, uh...and I thought you were too. Gavin’s just my character.” I squirm mentally as the Doctor looks at me sharply for a while. His is a truly piercing gaze. Finally, he smiles slightly.
“I dunno,” he says, “I liked ‘Gavin Multitudes’. It’s a lot more interesting than your actual name.”
“Feel free to call me Gavin, then?” I say, smiling back, giddy with relief. “I don’t know!”
“All right, Gavin,” he says, sticking his tongue out of his mouth and turning the computer screen towards me. “What was it you needed the internet for?” I instantly stop smiling and anxiously fiddle with my hair.
“Er,” I say, walking over a little reluctantly. I lean over, open Google, search ‘Doctor Who’ and click on the Wikipedia entry. The Doctor starts to lean over beside me to look but I cover the screen with my arm. “Look,” I say, “this is awkward enough as it is without me being here while you read this. Is there, like, some sort of living-room thing in the TARDIS’s back rooms that I can hang out in?”
“I suppose the site you’re hiding from me will explain how you know about the TARDIS?” the Doctor asks me. I nod. “Right, well, go down the hall until you reach a green door, go in, ignore the aquarium and go up the stairs, walk straight, turn left and it’s the third door on your right.”
“There’s not a closer one?” I ask incredulously.
“Aw, that’s a nice one, though,” the Doctor insists. “It’s got a little garden in it. And all sorts of glass tables, you wouldn’t believe the variety. Not even sure where I got them all...” I laugh and get him to repeat it again, this time with my notebook ready. Then I race out of the room as fast as I can manage. I want him to have some privacy to find out that he really HAS none.
‘Or maybe he does,’ I think, following directions feverishly. ‘Maybe the television show isn’t accurate at all and I don’t know anything about this version of the Doctor...Creepy.’
The Doctor is right. There is an unbelievable variety of glass tables in the room. I have to tread carefully, as some of the glass tables are on top of other glass tables. It has a rather pretty effect, what with the lighting and a small fountain that’s in amongst a small arrangement of plants in the centre of the room. The plants looks normal enough but they are giving off a strange, not unpleasant, spicy scent. Making my way delicately to the one couch in the room, I lie lengthwise on it and wait. Then, being me, I am lulled to sleep by the sound of running water.