[FIC] (Figure Skating) Johnny (Part 1)
Title: Johnny (Part 1)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~5000
Pairing/Characters: Evan Lysacek and Johnny Weir (Figure Skating)
Summary: Evan is a Time Lord and the TARDIS chose Johnny as his next companion. We'll see how that goes.
Disclaimer: All characters and names belong to their rightful owners. The following is untrue and I am not profiting from this.
Notes: A big (huge) thank you to kuteki for betaing this and giving me suggestions to improve on this. And that I am not crazy for having this idea because she did too. All other mistakes are mine, along with all liberties I've taken from the Doctor Who series. (You don't really need to know about Doctor Who to read this.)
Notes 2: This is written for skategreat's Cliche Challenge #18 (freestyle crossover) with a side of #6 (time travel).
Evan is bored out of his mind. His stint on Dancing with the Stars was over, and his skating career is put on hold after the Stars on Ice tour also ended. So now he is sitting in his living room with a PS3 controller in his hand and the God of War III CD popped in and ready to go. (He beat Mass Effect 2 in a week since he had nothing else to do once he got home.) He feels so useless and wants to do something more than be a bum at home playing video games. He’s an Olympic champion, dammit.
The buzz from the intercom stops him from wallowing in his self-pity and breaking out the motivational mantras. He takes an extra second to get up because he is sure that he isn’t expecting anyone, and either way they would have called beforehand.
“Yeah?” He says into the intercom.
“There’s a package for Evan Lysacek that requires a signature.”
“Thanks, I’m coming down now.” He takes a few steps back and looks at his reflection from the full length mirror. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and his hair looks flat - not to mention he is only wearing a threadbare tee with black sweatpants. He stuffs his feet into his runners. Maybe not the best look to be outside his apartment but everyone’s used to his casual outfits already. It’s not like he’s going to scare anyone away looking like that.
Evan grabs his keys off the counter and heads down to the lobby. He greets the delivery man with a slight smile and signs off for the package. He eyes the package carefully. His name is clearly printed on the computer label. Yet there is no return address or name written anywhere. Maybe he should have asked about the lack of information before signing off. It could be from some crazy fan (though where would they get his address?) or has a bomb in it (okay, that sounds a little farfetched). The engine from the delivery truck roars and he watches it drives off. Too late.
Only when he gets back into the safety of his home does he examine the tiny box and even rattles it a little, forgetting that it might be breakable. Whoops. Either way, he’s ripping off the wrapping and he can barely contain his excitement to find out what’s inside.
His shoulder sags. Great, so underneath the wrapping is a plain white cardboard box.
There is a sense of thrill when he opens the box, hoping it was something cool or useful. Instead he feels a slightly annoyed at the box (and its sender) since the content inside is such a letdown. Inside said box is a fob watch.
Yes, a fob watch.
He picks it up; the metal is cold to his touch. The design on the watch looks highly intricate, something he’s never seen before. So why send it to him? It obviously isn’t his. He doesn’t remember his parents ever mentioning or owning a fob watch. And who still uses a fob watch? Or that he actually knows that it’s called a fob watch.
But he can’t keep his eyes off of it. His left hand is tracing the patterns on the watch; his mind is filling up with words he doesn’t understand but the voice is surely his.
His cell phone rings, startling him into almost dropping the fob watch. He gently places it down on the kitchen counter before he goes and answers the phone. He sees the caller ID - it’s Mom, so he can’t put off letting it ring and go to voice mail. By the time he answers the call, all thoughts of the mysterious gift vanish from his mind.
*
Only later that night does he remember leaving the watch on his kitchen counter. He picks it up again and tosses it a few times in the air, feeling the cool metal against his skin. He digs deep in his memory and fails to find any recollection of a fob watch. Yet, that familiar voice comes back, louder than ever, telling him of events and names of a past he’s never known.
Screw it, Evan tells himself, and presses down on the release gauge to pop the cover open.
Big mistake.
Golden rays of light emit from inside the watch, filling up the room and leaving no corners left untouched. No matter how bright and blinding the lights are, Evan can’t take his eyes off of the watch as if someone is forcing his eyes to stay open.
Oh.
Oh.
Apparently Evan Lysacek is a Time Lord (Time Lord?). He collapses to the floor as centuries of memories flooded his brain. There should have been a warning label somewhere on the box because he is definitely not ready for all of that. He clutches onto the fob watch for dear life, begging it to end.
Then the lights are gone, leaving the apartment only illuminated by the lamps again.
And well, Evan passes out after that. There really isn’t a choice in that matter.
*
When Evan wakes up again, the sky is bright and this time it is the sun that’s illuminating his apartment, making the lamps irrelevant. He feels different, to say the least. He pushes himself off the ground. He meets his eyes in the full length mirror, much like yesterday. Okay, well he feels really different now.
“Doctor,” he says to himself. Hm.
“Doctor,” he tries again, straining to hear something different coming out of his mouth. He really misses the accent. Doctah.
His last regeneration had him with a flop of hair, barely any eyebrows and pale as a ghost. It’s like they turned the dial of all his physical characteristics to the other side of the spectrum. Okay, so he’s still tall enough, but now his hair is dark, eyebrows prominent, skin a few shades too much (okay, he looks orangey?) and while he is lanky, he’s bulky enough so that he actually looks stronger and more authoritative. This is good. And not to mention he has a perfect set of teeth, he thinks, as he runs of his tongue over them and examines them in the mirror. (“Doctor,” he tries again.) He pushes aside his bangs. He will need to fix that soon.
This is a good start. He walks around, testing his legs and swinging them around while turning off the lamps. The apartment is cramped, so there isn’t much room for him to walk one way before turning around and tracing the same path again. He catches a glimpse of himself from the mirror again. He does look good considering all the possibilities he had imagined if this human body turned out to be a dirty hobo or a lazy and out of shape slob.
(But still no ginger.)
Now where’s his TARDIS?
It is a wonder how perception filters can affect humans because all this time his TARDIS key is around his neck and no one suspected a thing. Well, he doubts anybody on Earth knows what a TARDIS is, but still - an alien could have found him and taken it. But then they (and he) wouldn’t know the location of his time machine either way.
So that was a waste of time.
The Doctor remembers to grab his cell phone and his keys before leaving his home to find his other home. If he remembers correctly, he packed the blue box away in a safe place, but that was decades ago. America has grown so much since then. At least his pre-human-and-still-Time-Lord self knows where not to park the TARDIS.
He flags down a cab. “LAX please,” he tells the driver.
He manages to get a ticket (very last minute, in fact) that will take him across the country to D.C. It was the safest place to park the TARDIS, considering a century from now, D.C. will still be standing and won’t be plowed down and built up again, unlike some other major metropolises in America. He cringes at the memory of New Miami. They never should have gone down that path...
(“Mr. Lysacek?”
The Doctor stares at the lady behind the counter for a long while before he realizes that yes, his physical appearance is still Evan Lysacek, so he flashes his well-practiced media smile and purposely fumbles an apology before taking his boarding pass.)
And no, he does not miss the irony here. The only Time Lord left in the universe has to take an airplane and wait in the tiny recycled-air, horribly cramped seats with a kid kicking at the back of his seat, and a snoring old lady next to him trying to use his shoulder as pillows. But what can you do? It was the only seat available on such short notice.
Finally, the Doctor lands in D.C., and quickly makes his way out of the airport, bypassing the luggage area, and waits for another cab to take him to his TARDIS. Humans waste a lot of time with all these queues and travel businesses. And from the expressions on their face, they are sharing his frustrations too.
“Finally,” he exclaims loudly as he stands in front of his TARDIS. It’s parked right underneath a giant willow tree in the National Mall. At least he remembers to put the shield on so the wood doesn’t rot. He pats the exterior gently, remembering how the TARDIS feels at his touch.
The Doctor unclasps the chain from his neck, puts the key in the slot, and pushes the door open. “Daddy’s home.”
He walks inside and marvels at the architecture of his, well, spaceship-slash-time-machine. While it’s only been a little more than two decades in his human body, and for a Time Lord, it’s only a speck on that timeline, it really is nice to be home.
(Home. Gallifrey. Home. Dead. Gone.)
Immediately, he grabs onto the edge of the TARDIS control to steady himself. The smallest thing can trigger his memory as the events from his human life continue to rearrange and fit themselves in his mind.
Right. Now that he’s back. Time to head off and get out of Earth. He’s been here for too long and as much as he likes this planet, and his body yearns for the infinity of time and space.
“Where should we go?” His left hand flicks the little bell and his other hand holds onto the handle and spins the wheel. “How about Basaltic Empire AD 3152? I hear there’s excellent cake there. This body for sure needs a little indulgence.”
The TARDIS hums in agreement and the Doctor enjoys hearing the familiar sound of her engine running, a sign that she is ready to go travel with him again and will get him to where he wants to go.
Apparently where he wants to go and where he needs to go are two different things since well, the TARDIS takes a slight tumble in the landing then stops, and he steps out to find himself not in Basaltic Empire or in AD 3152. There’s a yellow cab driving off and honking at him, and well, there’s a newspaper box that’s indicating he’s in New Jersey?
He’s in New Jersey all right, he tells himself as he watches Johnny Weir disappear into his apartment building. He guesses that the TARDIS doesn’t want him to travel alone. But really, Johnny Weir? His human self has had enough of the skater in his lifetime. His Time Lord self now has to suffer through it too? He can already hear the snarky comments about anything and everything about Time and Space Travels coming out of Johnny’s mouth.
He turns in his spot and glares at the blue box. “Really?” He asks again even louder this time. “Really?”
“Fine,” he sighs in defeat when he knows there will be no answer given. He cannot afford to have the TARDIS angry at him (he’s learned his lesson there). This blue box has been with him since the beginning and if her wish is for him to travel with Johnny (even the Doctor has to laugh at that idea), then he will try his best to fulfill that wish. And the moment Johnny refuses his offer, he is going to be out of here.
He digs out his cell phone from his pocket and scrolls down his address book. At least Evan still has Johnny’s number. He hopes that this number still works, or that he hasn’t been blocked from it because that would really suck. After six rings, Johnny finally picks up.
“What do you want?”
“Can you stick your head out the window and look down?”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Just do it, Johnny.”
“Is this some kind of a joke?”
“Johnny,” the Doctor says in his sternest tone. He does not have time for this. His body itches to leave this planet as soon as he can get Johnny into the TARDIS. He’s willing to kidnap him if he has to. Though most of his companions in his travels did go with him willingly...
“Fine,” Johnny huffs.
The Doctor cranes his head up and when he sees Johnny, he sends him a little wave with his spare hand. Even from a distance, he can see Johnny looking half-annoyed and half-angry.
“What is going on?”
“Come down for a second. It’ll be quick, I promise.”
“I don’t think so, Lysacek.”
“Just humor me, okay?”
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do.”
“Johnny, just do this for me, okay?” The Doctor asks again, gritting his teeth. It would have been much easier if the TARDIS landed him inside Johnny’s apartment. He then wonders if the ceiling is even tall enough to fit the time machine in. He can imagine Johnny’s apartment ceiling crumbling down from the sheer size of the TARDIS and he’s a hundred percent sure Johnny is going to freak out, bitch a lot, then refuse to listen to him until he leaves and vows to never return.
“Fine, but you have to promise me to never bother me again. And I mean it, as in delete-my-number-from-your-phone kind of ‘never bother me again’.”
“Yes, yes. And I’ll mean it too.”
The call dies and the Doctor puts his cellphone back into his pocket. He stops looking up because the sun is starting to get to him. Instead he leans against the TARDIS and waits.
A very angry looking Johnny Weir storms towards him, but keeps his distance and stops a few feet from him. “I’m here, what do you want now?”
The Doctor straightens up and puts his hands behind his back. “I’m here to make you an offer. I can give you the opportunity of a lifetime to experience something you’ve never felt before. I can take you anywhere, any time - you just name it.”
Johnny crosses his arms and frowns deeply. “Are you proposing me for sex?”
“No!” Okay, so this reincarnation isn’t very good with words that are not fed to him by others. He means well though. “What I mean is... let’s start over. Hello, I’m the Doctor and I’m a Time Lord. I’m here to invite you on an adventure of a lifetime. Here,” he steps aside to reveal the TARDIS. “is my, well, in human term, a time-machine-slash-spaceship.”
Johnny eyes him through the slits of his eyes, as if he’s only here to humor his rival. “If you’re the Doctor, then where’s Evan?”
“He was... me but human. It’s complicated. But I’m still him, in a way.”
Johnny stares at him for a bit and shakes his head. “No,” he states very clearly. “You’re Evan Lysacek.”
“I’m the Doctor.”
“No, you’re Evan Lysacek. Did you hit your head or something?”
“No, I’m the Doctor.”
“You’re not a doctor. You’re a figure skater.”
“No, I’m the Doctor.”
Johnny stops himself from probably repeating himself. He takes a deep breath and calmly asks. “Wait, so you’re not Evan anymore?”
The Doctor shakes his head.
Johnny ponders for another moment. “Why should I believe you?”
The Doctor makes a face and shrugs. “Because I have this giant blue box next to me?”
Johnny looks around, eyes searching for something but not finding what he’s looking for. “I’m still waiting for Ashton Kutcher.”
That name rings a bell in his head. Does Johnny mean the car or the guy from Punk’d? He tries the former and from the look on Johnny’s face, he knows he said the wrong thing.
Johnny looks like he’s ready to stomp his feet and turn back into his apartment.
“Wait, wait,” the Doctor calls out. “What have you got to lose?”
And he opens the TARDIS door and waits for his new companion to make a decision. Johnny stays at his spot but leans over to catch a peek at the opened door. “I don’t know about this. I kind of have a thing for tomorrow and well, thanks for the offer.”
“It’s a time machine, Johnny. She can bring you back here like you’ve never even left. Take it or leave it.”
Johnny laughs and shakes his head. “You can’t go without me, can you? What if I don’t say yes? Are you going to leave and go by yourself? You wouldn’t have come all the way here just to pick me up and leave without me in there.”
The Doctor squashes down his annoyance. He is this close to walking into the TARDIS and leaving Johnny here on Earth regretting his decision the moment the TARDIS sounds off and disappears in front of him. Even humans cannot deny something disappearing into the thin air just like that. “I’m sure I can find plenty of other people who wouldn’t mind travelling with me. You’re not the first companion that I’ve had.”
“I swear you’re still trying to get me to have sex with you. And this is some cheesy and over elaborate scheme you cooked up in your mind to get me into your bed.”
“So are you coming or not?”
Johnny looks behind him, then back at the Doctor and his TARDIS. He makes a beeline for the opened door. The Doctor trails before Johnny and waits for the usual it’s bigger on the inside comment; instead he gets “this place is so... tacky.”
He knows he is the Doctor but the Evan in him boils. “Hey, it’s not tacky. It’s futuristic!”
Johnny laughs. “If this is ‘futuristic’, then I don’t want to be apart of that future.”
The Doctor rolls his eyes instead of firing back. He settles down to station himself in front of the TARDIS control and grins at Johnny, but Johnny is no longer in front of him, or in the TARDIS either.
The Doctor curls his fists and stomps out the TARDIS. He spots Johnny walking around the TARDIS several times and knocking on the blue box with his knuckles. “This really isn’t a trick to get you into bed because I have zero intentions to sleep with you.”
Johnny looks at him in disbelieve, as if he’s actually starting to realize the Doctor is not joking about the time travel thing. “So what is this thing called?”
“Time and Relative Dimensions in Space,” the Doctor tells him with ease. “Or the TARDIS for short because ‘Time and Relative Dimensions in Space’ is quite a mouthful. Isn’t she glorious?”
Yet Johnny has that look on him that isn’t quite trusting. But still, he begrudgingly gets himself back inside the TARDIS and the Doctor immediately takes his place at the controls.
“So, Johnny Weir. Name a place, a time; wherever you want to go, whenever you want to be.”
“Where were you going to go before you came to pick me up?” Johnny asks, and leans against the railing with his head scanning his surroundings. This part is something the Doctor is familiar with.
“A little place called Basaltic Empire. Well, at least I was going to go to the capital city of the empire,” the Doctor replies. He fiddles with the control and presses the big blue button to get the engine going. “I’m surprised that you agreed to come along so... willingly. I expected you to put up more of a fight.” Though he didn’t know what else he could have done if Johnny didn’t walk into the TARDIS at that moment.
Johnny shrugs and examines his finger nails. “I want to see how far you take this until the jig is up and you let me out so I can go nap.”
Since he had already input the destination and time before this little detour, he relaxes and lets his time machine do all the work. “You’re not impressed with the inside of the TARDIS? Or that it’s bigger on the inside?”
“I am... but you know” Johnny replies hesitantly and stops. “Actually, I am glad there’s a reason for your weirdness, Evan. I mean, I didn’t expect you to be a,” he waves his hand around, gesturing for the correct term.
“A Time Lord.”
“Yes, yes, a Time Lord, but really, I’m surprised no one has seen through your façade until now. I guess you do have a reason to be stand-offish.” But not before you won the gold medal.
The two takes a slight tumble with the noise stopping and the TARDIS landing on a new planet. “Here we are,” the Doctor sticks his head in front of the meter. “May 15th, 3152 and on the dot.” He nods towards the door, go on.
Johnny puffs his chest and walks down the bridge with dignity but stops with his hand on the door. “You know, it’s been fun, but really, outside of this is going to be my apartment and-” His sentence dies off as he pushes the TARDIS door and sees that, well, he’s not in New Jersey anymore.
*
“TTW, also known as Tel-Ter-World, but that’s just a mouthful.”
Johnny looks at the man standing next to him. “You make it sound so exciting,” he says, dripping with sarcasm. The TARDIS parks herself at the side of some building, just hidden away from the sight line of any pedestrians. Johnny stands in the middle of the street and takes in the busyness of a future metropolis.
“It is exciting,” the Doctor scowls, adamantly defending his decision of coming here, but his voice isn’t translating his emotion well. “It’s the Golden Age of the Empire. They last for another two centuries before a civil war erupts and well, let’s just say it doesn’t bode well for either side.”
Johnny just makes a noise before turning his attention back to his surroundings.
“Are you not impressed?”
“Oh, I am,” Johnny smiles sweetly. “It’s just, I’m whisked away to some foreign place with a man I hate, but really, it’s not really him anymore, is it?”
“Do you miss him?”
Johnny manages to dodge the question thanks to a well-timed flying car going by. “I guess we’re not going to get that in our life time,” he says as his eyes eagerly follow the new invention before it disappears behind an even taller building.
“You’ll need to live another 300 years before the first prototype is developed.”
Johnny nods like he understands whatever’s coming out of the Doctor’s mouth. “Are you sure we can be here? And I don’t want to meet my first alien in this outfit.” His voice slight quivers and he is already taking a few steps back towards the TARDIS.
“Johnny, it’s only one adventure. One! And I’ll be here to protect you from those pesky aliens. And by the way, your outfit is fine. Perfect for your first adventure.” The Doctor can’t think of anything else to say to appease Johnny other than to assure him that he looks great. He hasn’t been on another planet for a long time. He needs this more than Johnny will ever know.
Johnny stands up a little straighter and puts his brave face on. “So, not-Evan, what are we doing here?”
One obstacle down, and probably a lot more to go. He has to make sure Johnny doesn’t start freaking out again and demand to be taken home immediately. His last handful of companions all experienced something “alien” before hopping onto The Doctor’s Tour of the Universe.
“Sight-seeing, of course. We’re travelers after all! Don’t you want to be in one of those flying cars? It’s neat.”
“It’s neat,” Johnny repeats in the same monotone with disinterest. “Wow, so very convincing of you, Doctor. You make the best tour guide, don’t you? But what the heck, I’m already here, dressed and ready to go. Lead the way already.”
The Doctor takes off in a hurry but finds himself slowing down his footsteps as he waits for Johnny. He gets that everything is new and shiny but he’s still slightly annoyed that Johnny is taking forever and stopping at every display on the street.
“They’re not very alien,” Johnny quips when the Doctor finally retraced his steps to find him. “They look just like us.”
The Doctor drags Johnny away from another clothing store. “Well, you humans do have a tendency to maintain the status quo while adapting to different landscape.”
“You mean, these people are still me?”
The Doctor keeps down a biting remark about how humans got to this point and time because Johnny doesn’t need that burden on him, and nods his head instead. The last thing he wants is for Johnny to run away in one of his little fits. He cannot afford to lose the human in this crowd; he’d never find Johnny in that case. “C’mon, we’re almost there. Just don’t say anything, okay? I know you’ll be tempted.”
The two travelers walk until they arrive at this twenty-plus-storied building with giant lighted advertisements across the outside wall of each level. The Doctor flashes his psychic paper at one of the security personnel at the entrance. This time they are from the officers from the Ministry of Transportation.
“You’re here early. We’re not due for inspection until next week.”
“Well,” The Doctor drawls, “if we always come on time, how would we catch you in the wrong?”
The slightly-tinted-towards-green woman turns to her partner. “Well...”
“I could always get my supervisor,” The Doctor reaches to his pocket. He hopes they take the bait because he doesn’t think Evan’s phone is going to suffice. He should have known to think of a higher ranked officer for this; he’s a bit rusty, okay?
The less-tinted man sighs and shakes his head. “Go ahead sirs.”
“What’s that?” Johnny snatches the badge out of The Doctor’s hand once they enter the elevator. “It’s blank,” he says after examining the blank piece of paper bounded by a leather cover a few times front and back and sideways and trying to look at it under a light.
“It’s psychic paper,” The Doctor nabs it back and tucks it back into the back pocket. He needs to get a jacket soon because it doesn’t feel right to put all these things into a pair of jeans. And jeans are not good for running and getting into mischief. The elevator dings in the next instant and he exits it without a second thought.
“And?”
“What?”
“What’s psychic paper?”
“It shows whatever you’re thinking. So you can be an officer of the law or a student, if you want to be. Hence psychic,” The Doctor replies as he peers into the windows of a sleek black, very sports-looking flying car. He spotted it the moment his stepped onto this floor. “This one will do,” he declares and reaches into his... non-existent jacket for his non-existent sonic screwdriver. Well, that puts a dent into their plans.
“Are we stealing a car? Jesus, Evan, I mean Doctor.”
The Doctor can feel Johnny’s presence directly behind him. His nose is almost touching the glass of the passenger’s door, trying to find another way to get into this car without getting the alarm system involved. “I promised you a flying car, so I’m going to get you one.”
“I’m sure they have all these high-tech security systems for their cars. It’s the future. What if they have those electric fences thingy protecting these cars? You cannot leave me stranded here while you get toasted because you’re being stupid.”
The Doctor rolls his eyes. Why did the TARDIS ever pick him to be his next companion? He knows that he hasn’t had a male companion in a long time but of all people, Johnny Weir? His human form doesn’t really like him at all. He has a nagging feeling that maybe the TARDIS picked the wrong person through some errors in calculations. But then how often was the TARDIS wrong about anything? He then wonders if he can dump Johnny back on Earth after this or Johnny refuses to go anywhere else with him, which means he can go travel by himself for awhile until he gets lonely again and he picks his next companion.
The alarm system from the adjacent car goes off immediately when Johnny accidentally takes a step back and backs right into it. Before the Doctor or Johnny can move anywhere or say anything, two uniforms materialize in front of them. “Cuff them,” one of them says.
“Where is your psychic paper now?” Johnny grits his teeth as he struggles against the cuffs. Because their hands are bounded at the front and not the back, they would be out of these in no time if the Doctor had his sonic screwdriver with him. But he doesn’t; so they will have to play nice and see where this goes.
“Well, at least you get to ride in one now,” The Doctor grins, referring to them being escorted into security vehicle. “And! And there is none of those ‘electric fences’ that you talked about, which by the way, is a good idea. You are good at this.”
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~5000
Pairing/Characters: Evan Lysacek and Johnny Weir (Figure Skating)
Summary: Evan is a Time Lord and the TARDIS chose Johnny as his next companion. We'll see how that goes.
Disclaimer: All characters and names belong to their rightful owners. The following is untrue and I am not profiting from this.
Notes: A big (huge) thank you to kuteki for betaing this and giving me suggestions to improve on this. And that I am not crazy for having this idea because she did too. All other mistakes are mine, along with all liberties I've taken from the Doctor Who series. (You don't really need to know about Doctor Who to read this.)
Notes 2: This is written for skategreat's Cliche Challenge #18 (freestyle crossover) with a side of #6 (time travel).
Evan is bored out of his mind. His stint on Dancing with the Stars was over, and his skating career is put on hold after the Stars on Ice tour also ended. So now he is sitting in his living room with a PS3 controller in his hand and the God of War III CD popped in and ready to go. (He beat Mass Effect 2 in a week since he had nothing else to do once he got home.) He feels so useless and wants to do something more than be a bum at home playing video games. He’s an Olympic champion, dammit.
The buzz from the intercom stops him from wallowing in his self-pity and breaking out the motivational mantras. He takes an extra second to get up because he is sure that he isn’t expecting anyone, and either way they would have called beforehand.
“Yeah?” He says into the intercom.
“There’s a package for Evan Lysacek that requires a signature.”
“Thanks, I’m coming down now.” He takes a few steps back and looks at his reflection from the full length mirror. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and his hair looks flat - not to mention he is only wearing a threadbare tee with black sweatpants. He stuffs his feet into his runners. Maybe not the best look to be outside his apartment but everyone’s used to his casual outfits already. It’s not like he’s going to scare anyone away looking like that.
Evan grabs his keys off the counter and heads down to the lobby. He greets the delivery man with a slight smile and signs off for the package. He eyes the package carefully. His name is clearly printed on the computer label. Yet there is no return address or name written anywhere. Maybe he should have asked about the lack of information before signing off. It could be from some crazy fan (though where would they get his address?) or has a bomb in it (okay, that sounds a little farfetched). The engine from the delivery truck roars and he watches it drives off. Too late.
Only when he gets back into the safety of his home does he examine the tiny box and even rattles it a little, forgetting that it might be breakable. Whoops. Either way, he’s ripping off the wrapping and he can barely contain his excitement to find out what’s inside.
His shoulder sags. Great, so underneath the wrapping is a plain white cardboard box.
There is a sense of thrill when he opens the box, hoping it was something cool or useful. Instead he feels a slightly annoyed at the box (and its sender) since the content inside is such a letdown. Inside said box is a fob watch.
Yes, a fob watch.
He picks it up; the metal is cold to his touch. The design on the watch looks highly intricate, something he’s never seen before. So why send it to him? It obviously isn’t his. He doesn’t remember his parents ever mentioning or owning a fob watch. And who still uses a fob watch? Or that he actually knows that it’s called a fob watch.
But he can’t keep his eyes off of it. His left hand is tracing the patterns on the watch; his mind is filling up with words he doesn’t understand but the voice is surely his.
His cell phone rings, startling him into almost dropping the fob watch. He gently places it down on the kitchen counter before he goes and answers the phone. He sees the caller ID - it’s Mom, so he can’t put off letting it ring and go to voice mail. By the time he answers the call, all thoughts of the mysterious gift vanish from his mind.
*
Only later that night does he remember leaving the watch on his kitchen counter. He picks it up again and tosses it a few times in the air, feeling the cool metal against his skin. He digs deep in his memory and fails to find any recollection of a fob watch. Yet, that familiar voice comes back, louder than ever, telling him of events and names of a past he’s never known.
Screw it, Evan tells himself, and presses down on the release gauge to pop the cover open.
Big mistake.
Golden rays of light emit from inside the watch, filling up the room and leaving no corners left untouched. No matter how bright and blinding the lights are, Evan can’t take his eyes off of the watch as if someone is forcing his eyes to stay open.
Oh.
Oh.
Apparently Evan Lysacek is a Time Lord (Time Lord?). He collapses to the floor as centuries of memories flooded his brain. There should have been a warning label somewhere on the box because he is definitely not ready for all of that. He clutches onto the fob watch for dear life, begging it to end.
Then the lights are gone, leaving the apartment only illuminated by the lamps again.
And well, Evan passes out after that. There really isn’t a choice in that matter.
*
When Evan wakes up again, the sky is bright and this time it is the sun that’s illuminating his apartment, making the lamps irrelevant. He feels different, to say the least. He pushes himself off the ground. He meets his eyes in the full length mirror, much like yesterday. Okay, well he feels really different now.
“Doctor,” he says to himself. Hm.
“Doctor,” he tries again, straining to hear something different coming out of his mouth. He really misses the accent. Doctah.
His last regeneration had him with a flop of hair, barely any eyebrows and pale as a ghost. It’s like they turned the dial of all his physical characteristics to the other side of the spectrum. Okay, so he’s still tall enough, but now his hair is dark, eyebrows prominent, skin a few shades too much (okay, he looks orangey?) and while he is lanky, he’s bulky enough so that he actually looks stronger and more authoritative. This is good. And not to mention he has a perfect set of teeth, he thinks, as he runs of his tongue over them and examines them in the mirror. (“Doctor,” he tries again.) He pushes aside his bangs. He will need to fix that soon.
This is a good start. He walks around, testing his legs and swinging them around while turning off the lamps. The apartment is cramped, so there isn’t much room for him to walk one way before turning around and tracing the same path again. He catches a glimpse of himself from the mirror again. He does look good considering all the possibilities he had imagined if this human body turned out to be a dirty hobo or a lazy and out of shape slob.
(But still no ginger.)
Now where’s his TARDIS?
It is a wonder how perception filters can affect humans because all this time his TARDIS key is around his neck and no one suspected a thing. Well, he doubts anybody on Earth knows what a TARDIS is, but still - an alien could have found him and taken it. But then they (and he) wouldn’t know the location of his time machine either way.
So that was a waste of time.
The Doctor remembers to grab his cell phone and his keys before leaving his home to find his other home. If he remembers correctly, he packed the blue box away in a safe place, but that was decades ago. America has grown so much since then. At least his pre-human-and-still-Time-Lord self knows where not to park the TARDIS.
He flags down a cab. “LAX please,” he tells the driver.
He manages to get a ticket (very last minute, in fact) that will take him across the country to D.C. It was the safest place to park the TARDIS, considering a century from now, D.C. will still be standing and won’t be plowed down and built up again, unlike some other major metropolises in America. He cringes at the memory of New Miami. They never should have gone down that path...
(“Mr. Lysacek?”
The Doctor stares at the lady behind the counter for a long while before he realizes that yes, his physical appearance is still Evan Lysacek, so he flashes his well-practiced media smile and purposely fumbles an apology before taking his boarding pass.)
And no, he does not miss the irony here. The only Time Lord left in the universe has to take an airplane and wait in the tiny recycled-air, horribly cramped seats with a kid kicking at the back of his seat, and a snoring old lady next to him trying to use his shoulder as pillows. But what can you do? It was the only seat available on such short notice.
Finally, the Doctor lands in D.C., and quickly makes his way out of the airport, bypassing the luggage area, and waits for another cab to take him to his TARDIS. Humans waste a lot of time with all these queues and travel businesses. And from the expressions on their face, they are sharing his frustrations too.
“Finally,” he exclaims loudly as he stands in front of his TARDIS. It’s parked right underneath a giant willow tree in the National Mall. At least he remembers to put the shield on so the wood doesn’t rot. He pats the exterior gently, remembering how the TARDIS feels at his touch.
The Doctor unclasps the chain from his neck, puts the key in the slot, and pushes the door open. “Daddy’s home.”
He walks inside and marvels at the architecture of his, well, spaceship-slash-time-machine. While it’s only been a little more than two decades in his human body, and for a Time Lord, it’s only a speck on that timeline, it really is nice to be home.
(Home. Gallifrey. Home. Dead. Gone.)
Immediately, he grabs onto the edge of the TARDIS control to steady himself. The smallest thing can trigger his memory as the events from his human life continue to rearrange and fit themselves in his mind.
Right. Now that he’s back. Time to head off and get out of Earth. He’s been here for too long and as much as he likes this planet, and his body yearns for the infinity of time and space.
“Where should we go?” His left hand flicks the little bell and his other hand holds onto the handle and spins the wheel. “How about Basaltic Empire AD 3152? I hear there’s excellent cake there. This body for sure needs a little indulgence.”
The TARDIS hums in agreement and the Doctor enjoys hearing the familiar sound of her engine running, a sign that she is ready to go travel with him again and will get him to where he wants to go.
Apparently where he wants to go and where he needs to go are two different things since well, the TARDIS takes a slight tumble in the landing then stops, and he steps out to find himself not in Basaltic Empire or in AD 3152. There’s a yellow cab driving off and honking at him, and well, there’s a newspaper box that’s indicating he’s in New Jersey?
He’s in New Jersey all right, he tells himself as he watches Johnny Weir disappear into his apartment building. He guesses that the TARDIS doesn’t want him to travel alone. But really, Johnny Weir? His human self has had enough of the skater in his lifetime. His Time Lord self now has to suffer through it too? He can already hear the snarky comments about anything and everything about Time and Space Travels coming out of Johnny’s mouth.
He turns in his spot and glares at the blue box. “Really?” He asks again even louder this time. “Really?”
“Fine,” he sighs in defeat when he knows there will be no answer given. He cannot afford to have the TARDIS angry at him (he’s learned his lesson there). This blue box has been with him since the beginning and if her wish is for him to travel with Johnny (even the Doctor has to laugh at that idea), then he will try his best to fulfill that wish. And the moment Johnny refuses his offer, he is going to be out of here.
He digs out his cell phone from his pocket and scrolls down his address book. At least Evan still has Johnny’s number. He hopes that this number still works, or that he hasn’t been blocked from it because that would really suck. After six rings, Johnny finally picks up.
“What do you want?”
“Can you stick your head out the window and look down?”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Just do it, Johnny.”
“Is this some kind of a joke?”
“Johnny,” the Doctor says in his sternest tone. He does not have time for this. His body itches to leave this planet as soon as he can get Johnny into the TARDIS. He’s willing to kidnap him if he has to. Though most of his companions in his travels did go with him willingly...
“Fine,” Johnny huffs.
The Doctor cranes his head up and when he sees Johnny, he sends him a little wave with his spare hand. Even from a distance, he can see Johnny looking half-annoyed and half-angry.
“What is going on?”
“Come down for a second. It’ll be quick, I promise.”
“I don’t think so, Lysacek.”
“Just humor me, okay?”
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do.”
“Johnny, just do this for me, okay?” The Doctor asks again, gritting his teeth. It would have been much easier if the TARDIS landed him inside Johnny’s apartment. He then wonders if the ceiling is even tall enough to fit the time machine in. He can imagine Johnny’s apartment ceiling crumbling down from the sheer size of the TARDIS and he’s a hundred percent sure Johnny is going to freak out, bitch a lot, then refuse to listen to him until he leaves and vows to never return.
“Fine, but you have to promise me to never bother me again. And I mean it, as in delete-my-number-from-your-phone kind of ‘never bother me again’.”
“Yes, yes. And I’ll mean it too.”
The call dies and the Doctor puts his cellphone back into his pocket. He stops looking up because the sun is starting to get to him. Instead he leans against the TARDIS and waits.
A very angry looking Johnny Weir storms towards him, but keeps his distance and stops a few feet from him. “I’m here, what do you want now?”
The Doctor straightens up and puts his hands behind his back. “I’m here to make you an offer. I can give you the opportunity of a lifetime to experience something you’ve never felt before. I can take you anywhere, any time - you just name it.”
Johnny crosses his arms and frowns deeply. “Are you proposing me for sex?”
“No!” Okay, so this reincarnation isn’t very good with words that are not fed to him by others. He means well though. “What I mean is... let’s start over. Hello, I’m the Doctor and I’m a Time Lord. I’m here to invite you on an adventure of a lifetime. Here,” he steps aside to reveal the TARDIS. “is my, well, in human term, a time-machine-slash-spaceship.”
Johnny eyes him through the slits of his eyes, as if he’s only here to humor his rival. “If you’re the Doctor, then where’s Evan?”
“He was... me but human. It’s complicated. But I’m still him, in a way.”
Johnny stares at him for a bit and shakes his head. “No,” he states very clearly. “You’re Evan Lysacek.”
“I’m the Doctor.”
“No, you’re Evan Lysacek. Did you hit your head or something?”
“No, I’m the Doctor.”
“You’re not a doctor. You’re a figure skater.”
“No, I’m the Doctor.”
Johnny stops himself from probably repeating himself. He takes a deep breath and calmly asks. “Wait, so you’re not Evan anymore?”
The Doctor shakes his head.
Johnny ponders for another moment. “Why should I believe you?”
The Doctor makes a face and shrugs. “Because I have this giant blue box next to me?”
Johnny looks around, eyes searching for something but not finding what he’s looking for. “I’m still waiting for Ashton Kutcher.”
That name rings a bell in his head. Does Johnny mean the car or the guy from Punk’d? He tries the former and from the look on Johnny’s face, he knows he said the wrong thing.
Johnny looks like he’s ready to stomp his feet and turn back into his apartment.
“Wait, wait,” the Doctor calls out. “What have you got to lose?”
And he opens the TARDIS door and waits for his new companion to make a decision. Johnny stays at his spot but leans over to catch a peek at the opened door. “I don’t know about this. I kind of have a thing for tomorrow and well, thanks for the offer.”
“It’s a time machine, Johnny. She can bring you back here like you’ve never even left. Take it or leave it.”
Johnny laughs and shakes his head. “You can’t go without me, can you? What if I don’t say yes? Are you going to leave and go by yourself? You wouldn’t have come all the way here just to pick me up and leave without me in there.”
The Doctor squashes down his annoyance. He is this close to walking into the TARDIS and leaving Johnny here on Earth regretting his decision the moment the TARDIS sounds off and disappears in front of him. Even humans cannot deny something disappearing into the thin air just like that. “I’m sure I can find plenty of other people who wouldn’t mind travelling with me. You’re not the first companion that I’ve had.”
“I swear you’re still trying to get me to have sex with you. And this is some cheesy and over elaborate scheme you cooked up in your mind to get me into your bed.”
“So are you coming or not?”
Johnny looks behind him, then back at the Doctor and his TARDIS. He makes a beeline for the opened door. The Doctor trails before Johnny and waits for the usual it’s bigger on the inside comment; instead he gets “this place is so... tacky.”
He knows he is the Doctor but the Evan in him boils. “Hey, it’s not tacky. It’s futuristic!”
Johnny laughs. “If this is ‘futuristic’, then I don’t want to be apart of that future.”
The Doctor rolls his eyes instead of firing back. He settles down to station himself in front of the TARDIS control and grins at Johnny, but Johnny is no longer in front of him, or in the TARDIS either.
The Doctor curls his fists and stomps out the TARDIS. He spots Johnny walking around the TARDIS several times and knocking on the blue box with his knuckles. “This really isn’t a trick to get you into bed because I have zero intentions to sleep with you.”
Johnny looks at him in disbelieve, as if he’s actually starting to realize the Doctor is not joking about the time travel thing. “So what is this thing called?”
“Time and Relative Dimensions in Space,” the Doctor tells him with ease. “Or the TARDIS for short because ‘Time and Relative Dimensions in Space’ is quite a mouthful. Isn’t she glorious?”
Yet Johnny has that look on him that isn’t quite trusting. But still, he begrudgingly gets himself back inside the TARDIS and the Doctor immediately takes his place at the controls.
“So, Johnny Weir. Name a place, a time; wherever you want to go, whenever you want to be.”
“Where were you going to go before you came to pick me up?” Johnny asks, and leans against the railing with his head scanning his surroundings. This part is something the Doctor is familiar with.
“A little place called Basaltic Empire. Well, at least I was going to go to the capital city of the empire,” the Doctor replies. He fiddles with the control and presses the big blue button to get the engine going. “I’m surprised that you agreed to come along so... willingly. I expected you to put up more of a fight.” Though he didn’t know what else he could have done if Johnny didn’t walk into the TARDIS at that moment.
Johnny shrugs and examines his finger nails. “I want to see how far you take this until the jig is up and you let me out so I can go nap.”
Since he had already input the destination and time before this little detour, he relaxes and lets his time machine do all the work. “You’re not impressed with the inside of the TARDIS? Or that it’s bigger on the inside?”
“I am... but you know” Johnny replies hesitantly and stops. “Actually, I am glad there’s a reason for your weirdness, Evan. I mean, I didn’t expect you to be a,” he waves his hand around, gesturing for the correct term.
“A Time Lord.”
“Yes, yes, a Time Lord, but really, I’m surprised no one has seen through your façade until now. I guess you do have a reason to be stand-offish.” But not before you won the gold medal.
The two takes a slight tumble with the noise stopping and the TARDIS landing on a new planet. “Here we are,” the Doctor sticks his head in front of the meter. “May 15th, 3152 and on the dot.” He nods towards the door, go on.
Johnny puffs his chest and walks down the bridge with dignity but stops with his hand on the door. “You know, it’s been fun, but really, outside of this is going to be my apartment and-” His sentence dies off as he pushes the TARDIS door and sees that, well, he’s not in New Jersey anymore.
*
“TTW, also known as Tel-Ter-World, but that’s just a mouthful.”
Johnny looks at the man standing next to him. “You make it sound so exciting,” he says, dripping with sarcasm. The TARDIS parks herself at the side of some building, just hidden away from the sight line of any pedestrians. Johnny stands in the middle of the street and takes in the busyness of a future metropolis.
“It is exciting,” the Doctor scowls, adamantly defending his decision of coming here, but his voice isn’t translating his emotion well. “It’s the Golden Age of the Empire. They last for another two centuries before a civil war erupts and well, let’s just say it doesn’t bode well for either side.”
Johnny just makes a noise before turning his attention back to his surroundings.
“Are you not impressed?”
“Oh, I am,” Johnny smiles sweetly. “It’s just, I’m whisked away to some foreign place with a man I hate, but really, it’s not really him anymore, is it?”
“Do you miss him?”
Johnny manages to dodge the question thanks to a well-timed flying car going by. “I guess we’re not going to get that in our life time,” he says as his eyes eagerly follow the new invention before it disappears behind an even taller building.
“You’ll need to live another 300 years before the first prototype is developed.”
Johnny nods like he understands whatever’s coming out of the Doctor’s mouth. “Are you sure we can be here? And I don’t want to meet my first alien in this outfit.” His voice slight quivers and he is already taking a few steps back towards the TARDIS.
“Johnny, it’s only one adventure. One! And I’ll be here to protect you from those pesky aliens. And by the way, your outfit is fine. Perfect for your first adventure.” The Doctor can’t think of anything else to say to appease Johnny other than to assure him that he looks great. He hasn’t been on another planet for a long time. He needs this more than Johnny will ever know.
Johnny stands up a little straighter and puts his brave face on. “So, not-Evan, what are we doing here?”
One obstacle down, and probably a lot more to go. He has to make sure Johnny doesn’t start freaking out again and demand to be taken home immediately. His last handful of companions all experienced something “alien” before hopping onto The Doctor’s Tour of the Universe.
“Sight-seeing, of course. We’re travelers after all! Don’t you want to be in one of those flying cars? It’s neat.”
“It’s neat,” Johnny repeats in the same monotone with disinterest. “Wow, so very convincing of you, Doctor. You make the best tour guide, don’t you? But what the heck, I’m already here, dressed and ready to go. Lead the way already.”
The Doctor takes off in a hurry but finds himself slowing down his footsteps as he waits for Johnny. He gets that everything is new and shiny but he’s still slightly annoyed that Johnny is taking forever and stopping at every display on the street.
“They’re not very alien,” Johnny quips when the Doctor finally retraced his steps to find him. “They look just like us.”
The Doctor drags Johnny away from another clothing store. “Well, you humans do have a tendency to maintain the status quo while adapting to different landscape.”
“You mean, these people are still me?”
The Doctor keeps down a biting remark about how humans got to this point and time because Johnny doesn’t need that burden on him, and nods his head instead. The last thing he wants is for Johnny to run away in one of his little fits. He cannot afford to lose the human in this crowd; he’d never find Johnny in that case. “C’mon, we’re almost there. Just don’t say anything, okay? I know you’ll be tempted.”
The two travelers walk until they arrive at this twenty-plus-storied building with giant lighted advertisements across the outside wall of each level. The Doctor flashes his psychic paper at one of the security personnel at the entrance. This time they are from the officers from the Ministry of Transportation.
“You’re here early. We’re not due for inspection until next week.”
“Well,” The Doctor drawls, “if we always come on time, how would we catch you in the wrong?”
The slightly-tinted-towards-green woman turns to her partner. “Well...”
“I could always get my supervisor,” The Doctor reaches to his pocket. He hopes they take the bait because he doesn’t think Evan’s phone is going to suffice. He should have known to think of a higher ranked officer for this; he’s a bit rusty, okay?
The less-tinted man sighs and shakes his head. “Go ahead sirs.”
“What’s that?” Johnny snatches the badge out of The Doctor’s hand once they enter the elevator. “It’s blank,” he says after examining the blank piece of paper bounded by a leather cover a few times front and back and sideways and trying to look at it under a light.
“It’s psychic paper,” The Doctor nabs it back and tucks it back into the back pocket. He needs to get a jacket soon because it doesn’t feel right to put all these things into a pair of jeans. And jeans are not good for running and getting into mischief. The elevator dings in the next instant and he exits it without a second thought.
“And?”
“What?”
“What’s psychic paper?”
“It shows whatever you’re thinking. So you can be an officer of the law or a student, if you want to be. Hence psychic,” The Doctor replies as he peers into the windows of a sleek black, very sports-looking flying car. He spotted it the moment his stepped onto this floor. “This one will do,” he declares and reaches into his... non-existent jacket for his non-existent sonic screwdriver. Well, that puts a dent into their plans.
“Are we stealing a car? Jesus, Evan, I mean Doctor.”
The Doctor can feel Johnny’s presence directly behind him. His nose is almost touching the glass of the passenger’s door, trying to find another way to get into this car without getting the alarm system involved. “I promised you a flying car, so I’m going to get you one.”
“I’m sure they have all these high-tech security systems for their cars. It’s the future. What if they have those electric fences thingy protecting these cars? You cannot leave me stranded here while you get toasted because you’re being stupid.”
The Doctor rolls his eyes. Why did the TARDIS ever pick him to be his next companion? He knows that he hasn’t had a male companion in a long time but of all people, Johnny Weir? His human form doesn’t really like him at all. He has a nagging feeling that maybe the TARDIS picked the wrong person through some errors in calculations. But then how often was the TARDIS wrong about anything? He then wonders if he can dump Johnny back on Earth after this or Johnny refuses to go anywhere else with him, which means he can go travel by himself for awhile until he gets lonely again and he picks his next companion.
The alarm system from the adjacent car goes off immediately when Johnny accidentally takes a step back and backs right into it. Before the Doctor or Johnny can move anywhere or say anything, two uniforms materialize in front of them. “Cuff them,” one of them says.
“Where is your psychic paper now?” Johnny grits his teeth as he struggles against the cuffs. Because their hands are bounded at the front and not the back, they would be out of these in no time if the Doctor had his sonic screwdriver with him. But he doesn’t; so they will have to play nice and see where this goes.
“Well, at least you get to ride in one now,” The Doctor grins, referring to them being escorted into security vehicle. “And! And there is none of those ‘electric fences’ that you talked about, which by the way, is a good idea. You are good at this.”