Fic update: 'This Is Going To Be Fun' - Buffy/Life On Mars/Torchwood/Doctor Who (5/15ish)
Title: This Is Going To Be Fun
Author: Flurblewig
Fandom: Buffyverse/Life On Mars/Torchwood/Doctor Who
Genre: Comedy drama, with a side order of crackfic :-)
Rating: PG13
Length: This part 2,224 words
Pairing: Gen ensemble: Rhys, Jack, Ten, Sam Tyler, Ethan Rayne, Ripper Giles
Summary: Sam Tyler meets another time-traveller and finds out that the world is even weirder than he thought, while Rhys Williams meets Jack & The Doctor and finds out that being a Buffy fan is going to come in handy in ways he never dreamed possible...
A/N: Thanks & hugs to my desoto_hia873!
Previous parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4
When Sam wakes up again it's full daylight and the flat is full of the smell of bacon. His stomach both rumbles and flips over at the same time, which is a profoundly uncomfortable feeling.
He unpeels his face from the carpet and manages to get to his feet in only three attempts. Ripper is sitting in the armchair reading a newspaper, and Ethan is juggling frying pans in the little kitchenette. Neither of them acknowledges him, leaving Sam to get up and check the mirror to make sure he's still actually there.
He turns round again to see Ethan distributing breakfast. 'Yours,' he says to Ripper, handing over a thick white bread sandwich, 'and yours.' Sam gets a glass of water and a packet of aspirin. He accepts both, thinking that maybe the idea of a flatmate might have some merits in times of emergency. And he's pretty sure this hangover qualifies as one of those.
Ethan takes a mug of tea for himself and sits down on the bed. 'We took the liberty of making ourselves at home,' he says. 'I didn't think you'd mind, since you'd been so generous.' He pats the space beside him, then grins when Sam sits down on the floor again. 'It's all right, I don't bite. Unless it's requested, of course.'
Sam rubs his eyes. The word 'bite' sparks a vague memory of last night's conversation. Had they really been talking about... vampires? He looks from Ethan to Ripper, who's still engrossed in his paper. At ten o'clock in the morning, in the face of doorstep sandwiches and the Daily Mirror, the idea seems more than a little ridiculous. And Ethan--the time travel--had he imagined all that, too? What he remembers of the night has the surreal, elided edges of a dream.
'Er,' he says.
Ethan looks up from his tea. 'Yes, Sam?'
'Nothing.' Sam shakes his head and reaches for the glass of water. As he does so, he sees the thin red line of a recent cut across his forearm. He runs his finger along it and winces a little when he finds it still sore. Ethan watches, and a look of understanding comes across his face. 'Ah, I see. Yes, Sam, it was all real.'
'The girl--you saw her.'
'I did indeed. And I'm looking forward to meeting up with her again. Fascinating creature.'
'Right, right.' Sam pops out a couple of pills and takes a swig of the water. He wasn't dreaming, then. Not this time. He's not entirely sure whether he's relieved about that or not.
Ripper still hasn't said a word. It's starting to piss Sam off a little. Ethan may have invaded his home but at least he's making himself useful. Sam tosses the aspirin box at the paper Ripper's holding in front of his face. 'So, what's your story? Are you a time-traveller too?'
Finally, the paper gets lowered. Ripper looks down at him over the top of it. 'A what?'
'A time traveller. You know, from 2006. Like us.' He gestures to himself and Ethan.
Ripper stares at him blankly for a moment then slowly turns to face Ethan with his eyebrows raised. The look on his face is thunderous enough to qualify as a nine point five on the Richter scale.
'What is he talking about?' The voice is clipped and low. Dangerous.
'Presumably not, then,' Sam mutters.
Ethan sips his tea and gives Ripper a charming smile. 'Ah. Yes. I was coming to that.'
'Were you?'
'Absolutely, of course.'
'When, exactly?'
'Oh, I thought maybe thirty years or so.'
Ripper folds the newspaper very carefully and puts it down. The muscles move smoothly under his tight black t shirt. 'Want to bring that forward a bit?'
Ethan sighs. 'Okay. Look, the main thing is, I'm Ethan.' He spreads his arms wide. 'You know me, Ripper. You know who I am.'
'I know who you are--who you were--in 1973,' Ripper says. 'In 2006--' He shakes his head. 'I wouldn't even know where to start.'
'Oh, you'd be surprised. I'm not that different. A bit more--' he pauses, and runs his tongue over his teeth. 'Experienced, perhaps.'
Anger and fascination have been warring in Ripper's voice and expression for a few seconds now. He leans forward, and it looks like fascination is winning. 'What happens?'
And that's it: no protest, no 'you must be crazy', no disbelief at all. Just a quiet 'what happens?' Sam feels jealousy roil along with the vestiges of nausea in his gut. How come Ethan--who is, the grudging liking Sam is forming for him aside, a man who wears a pink feather boa in public--has so much more easy credibility than he does? He sips his water and thinks for a minute about what he would have given for Annie--for anyone--to have believed him as simply as that.
'I can't tell you what happens,' Ethan says.
'Now look, you can't--'
'I don't mean I don't want to, I mean I can't--it seems like the process has a built-in defence mechanism. I can remember inconsequential things like freak heatwaves, annoying pop songs and televisio adverts, but the important stuff about your own timeline gets fritzed out.'
Sam looks up at this, and straight into a fierce 'I know I'm talking bollocks but don't you dare contradict me' look that he'd thought Gene held the patent on. He says nothing.
Ripper's eyes narrow. 'Why don't I believe you?'
'Because you're a distrustful, arrogant young whippersnapper who thinks he knows better than his elders?' Ethan grins. 'Deny it, go on. You wouldn't even be here if you weren't.'
For the first time, Ripper seems a little uncertain. 'Are you really saying that you don't know, or you don't remember, what happens to me? You don't know whether I--you know--' he falters. 'The Council--'
Ethan shrugs, and turns his attention back to his mug of tea. 'It's a mystery. I suppose we'll just have to wait and find out.'
Sam watches Ripper. There's definitely something familiar about him. Something about the eyes, maybe, or the mouth. Or maybe it's the voice. Listening to him, Sam is increasingly convinced that the rough-and-ready Eastenders accent is put on. There are hints of far more cultured vowels underneath. He closes his eyes, tries to imagine that voice talking in a slower, quieter, more educated tone and almost gets it, but it slips away before his tired mind can fasten on it. He opens his eyes and studies Ripper again. The jeans and boots aren't the cleanest, but they're good quality. The hands are smooth and uncalloused and the nails neat, although scrapes around the knuckles indicate a recent fistfight. Five to one this is a rich boy rebellion; running away from home--or, given his age, dropping out of a posh university--to get pierced, get pissed and get laid with as many unsuitable people as possible. And God knows, someone like Ethan must top anybody's unsuitable list. If there's a Ripper Senior, Sam reckons he's cutting Junior out of his will right now.
'What's your name?' Sam asks. 'Your real name, I mean. I assume it doesn't say 'Ripper' on your birth certificate.'
Ripper gives him a look of pure disdain. Oh yeah, this kid's not from the streets of East London, however much he wants to be. Only money, aristocracy or both lends that kind of sense of superiority.
'None of your business,' he says.
'Fine. But I don't think my memory's quite as swiss-cheesed as Ethan's, and I'm about ready to swear that I know you from somewhere. So maybe I know your future, eh?' He grins. 'Most of the people I know are criminals or coppers. Wonder which one you might be?'
Ripper gives him a filthy look, but eventually mutters 'Rupert Giles.' Ethan seems highly amused by the whole thing, but then 'highly amused ' does seem to be his default setting.
Rupert Giles. Rupert Giles. It rings a bell, but it's a very faint, rather off-key one. Like his face, Sam just can't quite pull it into focus. Maybe he once put him away for something minor. Or rather, will put. Or maybe, now that he's met him, he won't. Or does the fact that Sam still remembers him mean that it must still at some point have happened?
Sam retrieves the pack of aspirin from where it had fallen under Ripper's chair. He has a feeling he's going to need it.
'I'll think about it,' he says, then looks to Ethan because he's the only one who seems to have any idea what's going on. 'So, are we changing things? Being back here, running around, you know, doing stuff? Does what we do change the future?'
Ethan tucks his legs under him. 'You can't really change what hasn't actually happened. Our past is now only a theoretical future. Unless, of course, you believe in prophesies and the general concept of destiny--' he breaks off and looks at Ripper--'which I know some people do. In which case what must be will still be, to whatever extent events--or results-- have been fated.'
Sam blinks at him. 'Is that a yes, or a no?'
Ethan smiles. 'It's a 'who knows?''
'Great. Some Yoda you are.'
Ethan laughs. 'Star Wars,' he says. 'I must add that to my list of investment opportunities. Okay, if you want my personal opinion-- I believe in the infinite parallel universe theory, and I think we left our old branch of the timeline and jumped onto a completely new one. So what I'm basically saying is that I think we can do whatever the hell we want.' He yawns and stretches out on the bed. 'And what I want right now is a nice kip. It was rather an exhausting night.' He scoots over. 'I don't take up much room, if you boys would care to join me...?'
Ripper watches him, and seems to be considering it. Sam hauls himself to his feet. 'I've got to go to work.'
'Shame. But far be it from me to come between a man and his duty,' Ethan says with a look at Ripper that Sam can't read.
'I need to shower,' Sam says.
Ethan raises his eyebrows. 'And? You want some company?'
'No! No, I just--I mean, this place isn't very big. It wasn't exactly designed for three people.'
'It's all right, we won't look. I promise.'
Sam gives up. 'This isn't--you're not moving in, right? You know that?'
'Dear Sam. I have designs on many things, but not on this flat. This is a base of operations, that's all. While we fine-tune the plan.'
'We have a plan?' He knows it's daft, but just hearing that word makes him feel better. 'Plan' belongs to the same family as 'order', 'logic' and 'reason', and that's his family. He can't wait to be clasped back to its bosom.
'Of course we have a plan,' Ethan says. 'Track down your little friend, trick her out of her power source and exploit it in the name of chaos and personal gain. Isn't that obvious?'
Sam groans, and heads for the bathroom. He doesn't get further than a couple of steps before the door crashes in again. 'Jesus,' he says. 'Shall I just put in a revolving door ?'
'Rise and shine, Tyler,' calls Gene. 'Time to--' he breaks off as he looks round the room, and spends a long, long time looking at Ethan lying on the bed. Ethan stretches sinuously, so that his t-shirt rides up to show a lean, flat stomach.
'Well,' Gene says. 'Isn't this a precious little picture of domestic bliss?'
For the second time in a very short period, Sam offers a prayer of thanks that his clothes, dishevelled and stinky as they are, are still on his body. Five minutes later and he would have been in the shower and Ethan and Ripper--well, no, he doesn't even want to finish that thought. He's just grateful that Gene's timing worked in his favour for once.
'Guv,' he says. 'This isn't--I mean we're not--oh, whatever. You're going to take the piss out of me regardless, so you might as well just get on with it.'
'Fun though taking the piss out of you is, Tyler, there's work to be done. I know it surprises you that some of us take our jobs seriously--and turn up on time--but there you have it. And what you also have is a suspect down at the nick who's waiting for you to talk to him. Bloke's a complete nutter, so it's right up your street. Look lively, there's a good lad. I'm sure Nellie and Petunia here can do the washing up while you're gone.'
Ripper bristles a little, and Sam takes a quick step forward to make sure he's between them. 'Give me five minutes, Guv, and I'll be out.'
Gene considers this, then shrugs and walks back out. 'You're an odd one, Tyler, and no mistake.'
Sam shuts the door behind him--or pushes it to, anyway; the lock is completely useless--and rests his forehead on it. 'You don't know the half of it,' he says.
Part 6
Author: Flurblewig
Fandom: Buffyverse/Life On Mars/Torchwood/Doctor Who
Genre: Comedy drama, with a side order of crackfic :-)
Rating: PG13
Length: This part 2,224 words
Pairing: Gen ensemble: Rhys, Jack, Ten, Sam Tyler, Ethan Rayne, Ripper Giles
Summary: Sam Tyler meets another time-traveller and finds out that the world is even weirder than he thought, while Rhys Williams meets Jack & The Doctor and finds out that being a Buffy fan is going to come in handy in ways he never dreamed possible...
A/N: Thanks & hugs to my desoto_hia873!
Previous parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4
When Sam wakes up again it's full daylight and the flat is full of the smell of bacon. His stomach both rumbles and flips over at the same time, which is a profoundly uncomfortable feeling.
He unpeels his face from the carpet and manages to get to his feet in only three attempts. Ripper is sitting in the armchair reading a newspaper, and Ethan is juggling frying pans in the little kitchenette. Neither of them acknowledges him, leaving Sam to get up and check the mirror to make sure he's still actually there.
He turns round again to see Ethan distributing breakfast. 'Yours,' he says to Ripper, handing over a thick white bread sandwich, 'and yours.' Sam gets a glass of water and a packet of aspirin. He accepts both, thinking that maybe the idea of a flatmate might have some merits in times of emergency. And he's pretty sure this hangover qualifies as one of those.
Ethan takes a mug of tea for himself and sits down on the bed. 'We took the liberty of making ourselves at home,' he says. 'I didn't think you'd mind, since you'd been so generous.' He pats the space beside him, then grins when Sam sits down on the floor again. 'It's all right, I don't bite. Unless it's requested, of course.'
Sam rubs his eyes. The word 'bite' sparks a vague memory of last night's conversation. Had they really been talking about... vampires? He looks from Ethan to Ripper, who's still engrossed in his paper. At ten o'clock in the morning, in the face of doorstep sandwiches and the Daily Mirror, the idea seems more than a little ridiculous. And Ethan--the time travel--had he imagined all that, too? What he remembers of the night has the surreal, elided edges of a dream.
'Er,' he says.
Ethan looks up from his tea. 'Yes, Sam?'
'Nothing.' Sam shakes his head and reaches for the glass of water. As he does so, he sees the thin red line of a recent cut across his forearm. He runs his finger along it and winces a little when he finds it still sore. Ethan watches, and a look of understanding comes across his face. 'Ah, I see. Yes, Sam, it was all real.'
'The girl--you saw her.'
'I did indeed. And I'm looking forward to meeting up with her again. Fascinating creature.'
'Right, right.' Sam pops out a couple of pills and takes a swig of the water. He wasn't dreaming, then. Not this time. He's not entirely sure whether he's relieved about that or not.
Ripper still hasn't said a word. It's starting to piss Sam off a little. Ethan may have invaded his home but at least he's making himself useful. Sam tosses the aspirin box at the paper Ripper's holding in front of his face. 'So, what's your story? Are you a time-traveller too?'
Finally, the paper gets lowered. Ripper looks down at him over the top of it. 'A what?'
'A time traveller. You know, from 2006. Like us.' He gestures to himself and Ethan.
Ripper stares at him blankly for a moment then slowly turns to face Ethan with his eyebrows raised. The look on his face is thunderous enough to qualify as a nine point five on the Richter scale.
'What is he talking about?' The voice is clipped and low. Dangerous.
'Presumably not, then,' Sam mutters.
Ethan sips his tea and gives Ripper a charming smile. 'Ah. Yes. I was coming to that.'
'Were you?'
'Absolutely, of course.'
'When, exactly?'
'Oh, I thought maybe thirty years or so.'
Ripper folds the newspaper very carefully and puts it down. The muscles move smoothly under his tight black t shirt. 'Want to bring that forward a bit?'
Ethan sighs. 'Okay. Look, the main thing is, I'm Ethan.' He spreads his arms wide. 'You know me, Ripper. You know who I am.'
'I know who you are--who you were--in 1973,' Ripper says. 'In 2006--' He shakes his head. 'I wouldn't even know where to start.'
'Oh, you'd be surprised. I'm not that different. A bit more--' he pauses, and runs his tongue over his teeth. 'Experienced, perhaps.'
Anger and fascination have been warring in Ripper's voice and expression for a few seconds now. He leans forward, and it looks like fascination is winning. 'What happens?'
And that's it: no protest, no 'you must be crazy', no disbelief at all. Just a quiet 'what happens?' Sam feels jealousy roil along with the vestiges of nausea in his gut. How come Ethan--who is, the grudging liking Sam is forming for him aside, a man who wears a pink feather boa in public--has so much more easy credibility than he does? He sips his water and thinks for a minute about what he would have given for Annie--for anyone--to have believed him as simply as that.
'I can't tell you what happens,' Ethan says.
'Now look, you can't--'
'I don't mean I don't want to, I mean I can't--it seems like the process has a built-in defence mechanism. I can remember inconsequential things like freak heatwaves, annoying pop songs and televisio adverts, but the important stuff about your own timeline gets fritzed out.'
Sam looks up at this, and straight into a fierce 'I know I'm talking bollocks but don't you dare contradict me' look that he'd thought Gene held the patent on. He says nothing.
Ripper's eyes narrow. 'Why don't I believe you?'
'Because you're a distrustful, arrogant young whippersnapper who thinks he knows better than his elders?' Ethan grins. 'Deny it, go on. You wouldn't even be here if you weren't.'
For the first time, Ripper seems a little uncertain. 'Are you really saying that you don't know, or you don't remember, what happens to me? You don't know whether I--you know--' he falters. 'The Council--'
Ethan shrugs, and turns his attention back to his mug of tea. 'It's a mystery. I suppose we'll just have to wait and find out.'
Sam watches Ripper. There's definitely something familiar about him. Something about the eyes, maybe, or the mouth. Or maybe it's the voice. Listening to him, Sam is increasingly convinced that the rough-and-ready Eastenders accent is put on. There are hints of far more cultured vowels underneath. He closes his eyes, tries to imagine that voice talking in a slower, quieter, more educated tone and almost gets it, but it slips away before his tired mind can fasten on it. He opens his eyes and studies Ripper again. The jeans and boots aren't the cleanest, but they're good quality. The hands are smooth and uncalloused and the nails neat, although scrapes around the knuckles indicate a recent fistfight. Five to one this is a rich boy rebellion; running away from home--or, given his age, dropping out of a posh university--to get pierced, get pissed and get laid with as many unsuitable people as possible. And God knows, someone like Ethan must top anybody's unsuitable list. If there's a Ripper Senior, Sam reckons he's cutting Junior out of his will right now.
'What's your name?' Sam asks. 'Your real name, I mean. I assume it doesn't say 'Ripper' on your birth certificate.'
Ripper gives him a look of pure disdain. Oh yeah, this kid's not from the streets of East London, however much he wants to be. Only money, aristocracy or both lends that kind of sense of superiority.
'None of your business,' he says.
'Fine. But I don't think my memory's quite as swiss-cheesed as Ethan's, and I'm about ready to swear that I know you from somewhere. So maybe I know your future, eh?' He grins. 'Most of the people I know are criminals or coppers. Wonder which one you might be?'
Ripper gives him a filthy look, but eventually mutters 'Rupert Giles.' Ethan seems highly amused by the whole thing, but then 'highly amused ' does seem to be his default setting.
Rupert Giles. Rupert Giles. It rings a bell, but it's a very faint, rather off-key one. Like his face, Sam just can't quite pull it into focus. Maybe he once put him away for something minor. Or rather, will put. Or maybe, now that he's met him, he won't. Or does the fact that Sam still remembers him mean that it must still at some point have happened?
Sam retrieves the pack of aspirin from where it had fallen under Ripper's chair. He has a feeling he's going to need it.
'I'll think about it,' he says, then looks to Ethan because he's the only one who seems to have any idea what's going on. 'So, are we changing things? Being back here, running around, you know, doing stuff? Does what we do change the future?'
Ethan tucks his legs under him. 'You can't really change what hasn't actually happened. Our past is now only a theoretical future. Unless, of course, you believe in prophesies and the general concept of destiny--' he breaks off and looks at Ripper--'which I know some people do. In which case what must be will still be, to whatever extent events--or results-- have been fated.'
Sam blinks at him. 'Is that a yes, or a no?'
Ethan smiles. 'It's a 'who knows?''
'Great. Some Yoda you are.'
Ethan laughs. 'Star Wars,' he says. 'I must add that to my list of investment opportunities. Okay, if you want my personal opinion-- I believe in the infinite parallel universe theory, and I think we left our old branch of the timeline and jumped onto a completely new one. So what I'm basically saying is that I think we can do whatever the hell we want.' He yawns and stretches out on the bed. 'And what I want right now is a nice kip. It was rather an exhausting night.' He scoots over. 'I don't take up much room, if you boys would care to join me...?'
Ripper watches him, and seems to be considering it. Sam hauls himself to his feet. 'I've got to go to work.'
'Shame. But far be it from me to come between a man and his duty,' Ethan says with a look at Ripper that Sam can't read.
'I need to shower,' Sam says.
Ethan raises his eyebrows. 'And? You want some company?'
'No! No, I just--I mean, this place isn't very big. It wasn't exactly designed for three people.'
'It's all right, we won't look. I promise.'
Sam gives up. 'This isn't--you're not moving in, right? You know that?'
'Dear Sam. I have designs on many things, but not on this flat. This is a base of operations, that's all. While we fine-tune the plan.'
'We have a plan?' He knows it's daft, but just hearing that word makes him feel better. 'Plan' belongs to the same family as 'order', 'logic' and 'reason', and that's his family. He can't wait to be clasped back to its bosom.
'Of course we have a plan,' Ethan says. 'Track down your little friend, trick her out of her power source and exploit it in the name of chaos and personal gain. Isn't that obvious?'
Sam groans, and heads for the bathroom. He doesn't get further than a couple of steps before the door crashes in again. 'Jesus,' he says. 'Shall I just put in a revolving door ?'
'Rise and shine, Tyler,' calls Gene. 'Time to--' he breaks off as he looks round the room, and spends a long, long time looking at Ethan lying on the bed. Ethan stretches sinuously, so that his t-shirt rides up to show a lean, flat stomach.
'Well,' Gene says. 'Isn't this a precious little picture of domestic bliss?'
For the second time in a very short period, Sam offers a prayer of thanks that his clothes, dishevelled and stinky as they are, are still on his body. Five minutes later and he would have been in the shower and Ethan and Ripper--well, no, he doesn't even want to finish that thought. He's just grateful that Gene's timing worked in his favour for once.
'Guv,' he says. 'This isn't--I mean we're not--oh, whatever. You're going to take the piss out of me regardless, so you might as well just get on with it.'
'Fun though taking the piss out of you is, Tyler, there's work to be done. I know it surprises you that some of us take our jobs seriously--and turn up on time--but there you have it. And what you also have is a suspect down at the nick who's waiting for you to talk to him. Bloke's a complete nutter, so it's right up your street. Look lively, there's a good lad. I'm sure Nellie and Petunia here can do the washing up while you're gone.'
Ripper bristles a little, and Sam takes a quick step forward to make sure he's between them. 'Give me five minutes, Guv, and I'll be out.'
Gene considers this, then shrugs and walks back out. 'You're an odd one, Tyler, and no mistake.'
Sam shuts the door behind him--or pushes it to, anyway; the lock is completely useless--and rests his forehead on it. 'You don't know the half of it,' he says.
Part 6