No, I've no idea why I wrote Whofic either
I suspect this has already been written, more effectively, elsewhere, but pinkdormouse urged me to get on with it. Double drabble (double being the key, moreorless), with spoilers for episodes five and six of current series of Doctor Who (well, pretty meaningless without them).
Home is the Hero
"Bye Mickey."
"Bye."
He was jumping down from the van when Jake leaned across, already revving up. "Ricky'd have been proud..." Then the van swung away down the street.
Mickey rang the door bell.
What would he say to his Gran - Ricky's Gran?
"Ricky died - real heroic, like. I'm Mickey, I'm your grandson too, sorta... I'm gonna take care of you."
No, better go on pretending to be Ricky.
She wasn't answering. He found the key behind the loose brick, unlocked the door and pushed it ajar. Something was blocking it. He pushed again, then froze.
Quietly, he pulled the door shut. He knew what lay behind it; didn't want to see it again yet. Soon, he'd have to sort it. Get her a proper funeral, like she - like his Gran had had, last time.
How long had she been lying there? While he was liberating Paris... Prague... Alexandria... or just last week, when they were driving home?
He pressed his head against the door and groaned. Couldn't blame Ricky; he never knew about her tripping on the torn stair carpet. Mickey knew, but he'd been too busy saving the world to fix it. Mickey the Idiot.
Home is the Hero
"Bye Mickey."
"Bye."
He was jumping down from the van when Jake leaned across, already revving up. "Ricky'd have been proud..." Then the van swung away down the street.
Mickey rang the door bell.
What would he say to his Gran - Ricky's Gran?
"Ricky died - real heroic, like. I'm Mickey, I'm your grandson too, sorta... I'm gonna take care of you."
No, better go on pretending to be Ricky.
She wasn't answering. He found the key behind the loose brick, unlocked the door and pushed it ajar. Something was blocking it. He pushed again, then froze.
Quietly, he pulled the door shut. He knew what lay behind it; didn't want to see it again yet. Soon, he'd have to sort it. Get her a proper funeral, like she - like his Gran had had, last time.
How long had she been lying there? While he was liberating Paris... Prague... Alexandria... or just last week, when they were driving home?
He pressed his head against the door and groaned. Couldn't blame Ricky; he never knew about her tripping on the torn stair carpet. Mickey knew, but he'd been too busy saving the world to fix it. Mickey the Idiot.