![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Fic: Trust Me (I'm a Lying Liar Who Lies). Chapter 7.
So... The ending of this chapter might have taken me by surprise. I mean, literally. It wasn't planned at all.
(Previous chapters here in my memories.)
Summary: In which River is enigmatic, Martha is frustrated, Mickey is intrigued and the Doctor... is a Pond.
Setting: Post-S6 (spoilers for everything aired so far, including First Night/Last Night and The Christmas Special).
Characters: Martha, Mickey, River, the Doctor (11), OCs. (More characters will probably turn up later.)
Word count (this chapter): 2100 words approx.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 7
As Martha and River disappeared in a flash, Mickey stared somewhat dumbly at the spot where they’d vanished. Martha probably had her own reasons for her actions - she usually did - but sometimes it would be helpful if she would bother to just tell him what she was planning.
He looked at the Doctor - the new, weird, bow tied Doctor that he didn’t know at all, except he seemed a bit less... dramatic, which was nice - and didn’t have a single clue what to say or do. But, worrying about what might happen if he let the Doctor set the agenda, he grasped onto the first thing that came to him.
“So, that Silurian,” he said, “it kinda left a bit easy, I thought... I mean it’s been here for forty years and then River comes along and suddenly it’s happy to relocate to the moon?”
The Doctor studied him for a long moment, then said, voice quietly reprimanding: “Its name was Morem.”
“Well- No one bothered to tell us, did they?” Mickey replied, defensively, and the Doctor frowned and then rubbed his face.
“Of course. Sorry. It’s just been a long night...” He looked around, chose a rock which was not occupied by a gently snoring archaeologist, and sat down rather heavily, then looked at Mickey with a ponderous sort of look.
“Well... it started off as a night, and it was going to be full of fun and fireworks and... nice things, except the second River heard the words ‘Martha Jones’ and ‘archaeological find’ she was impossible to stop - never mind that we have a time machine and that burials don’t move or change or... anything interesting. Of course when I pointed this out she decided to prove me wrong by leaving immediately... And then, when I got here, there was a Silurian which meant walking on eggshells.”
He stopped for a moment, looking into the far distance - as Mickey tried to work out how he had somehow become the Doctor’s confidante - and then continued, clearly speaking to himself.
“I still can’t believe that one of them survived. I wish...”
Sighing he let his head fall, before looking up with a rather resigned and candid look in his eyes, as Mickey sat himself down on the next stone along.
“Sometimes I wonder how this planet produces such... intransigent creatures. You’re all so happy to start fighting over nothing more than suspicion and perceived differences...”
Then he blinked, and studied Mickey with slight confusion.
“Sorry. I disappeared off on a tangent there, didn’t I? I’m... Companion-less at the moment and tend to talk to myself. Well there’s River of course, but she comes and goes, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. What did you ask? Oh, yes I remember. Well, basically, River managed to find Silurian contractors - she has... a lot of contacts - so hopefully Morem’s off somewhere in the 51st Century discovering long lost cousins, rather than watching over long dead ones.”
“Handy lady, your wife,” Mickey said casually, grateful for the explanation, and the Doctor looked simultaneously pleased and embarrassed, scratching the back of his head.
“She is at that. Wives generally are, I think... Which reminds me, I never asked - how’s married life working out for you and Martha?”
Although slightly surprised by the rather personal question, Mickey couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he answered.
"S good," he said, "Yeah, it's really good."
"Good. Very good,” the Doctor replied with great satisfaction, before he continued, studying Mickey thoughtfully.
“You know I was rather worried about you - hope you don’t mind me saying that it put my mind to rest when I discovered that you and Martha had hooked up... They’re good people, the Joneses."
Mickey blinked and tried not to look stupid as he looked at the Doctor.
"You... worried? About me?"
The Doctor leaned forward, tilting his head.
"Of course I worried. You'd lost your grandmother - again - as well as Rose and her family, for good, what with me leaving them in Pete’s world with the other me, and I don't think there was ever anyone else? I...” he hesitated, eyes momentarily lost.
“I happen to know what that's like. So yes, I worried."
For a moment Mickey was completely speechless, then he slowly shook his head, staring at the Doctor as if this strange new version was about to grow wings and fly away. His heart was suddenly beating too fast and he wanted to grab hold of the stone for stability.
"But - you really care. About me." He swallowed, feeling more shaky than he had all day. "You. Care. About me."
The look on the Doctor's face could now only be described as genuine alarm, and he reached out, grasping Mickey's shoulder and studying him intently, clearly struggling with finding the right words to the same extent that Mickey was.
"Mickey... why on earth would you think that I don’t care about you?"
A beat, during which Mickey contemplated just trying to brush the whole thing off - this was exactly what he hadn’t wanted. On the other hand - maybe it’d be good to get the thing out in the open? The Doctor had started it after all...
"Well, y'know... The way you always got my name wrong. The way you'd call me Mickey the Idiot. The way I was so clearly the third wheel on the wagon when it came to you and Rose. Don't get me wrong, you were quite decent some of the time, but-"
He let the sentence hang, and the Doctor let his hand fall away as he slowly nodded, and somehow he suddenly looked very old, and very tired, as he with great care rested his elbows on his knees and threaded his fingers together.
"Ah yes. That," he said softly, and when he continued, it at first seemed as if he was mostly speaking to himself.
“Amy once told me that every room I walk in to, I laugh at all the men and show off to all the girls. And well,” he fidgeted, a little uncomfortably, “she- did have a bit of a point, I suppose. It’s not really a conscious thing, except... well, with you I guess it was. Because Rose...”
A long pause, as he looked into the distance.
“It’s so long ago now, and those were such dark days. But she shone so brightly... How to explain it?”
He shot Mickey a pensive look. “Well, you’ve seen some of the darkness out there by now, Mickey. Seen the price of war. I met Rose when... all I had left was darkness and ashes. And she was young and innocent and I needed her to be those things for me - to show me that there was still something worth living for. That there was still beauty and wonder left... I might have lost everything else, but I had found her, and she... She believed in me, she trusted me, and I clung to her like the drowning man I was. And you..."
A slow shake of the head. “You were a walking, talking, bluntly precise reminder that nothing ever lasts. That I would lose her the way I'd lost everyone else, no matter what. I am very good at lying - even to myself, if necessary - and you wouldn’t let me get away with it. Every time I saw you, I knew that she could have a future with you that I could never give her... So, I suppose that I was jealous. I'm a selfish old man, Mickey, and often foolish too, and I am sorry. You deserved far better than you got, and I’m glad you have now found it.”
For a long moment Mickey could only stare, wanting to ask 'Who are you, and what have you done with the Doctor?' Eventually he just nodded and said a quiet "Thank you," unsure what the hell had just happened. The Doctor had been jealous? The Doctor was apologising? He was beginning to suspect that he'd woken up in a parallel universe, but it seemed an improvement on the old one, so he wasn't about to complain.
Then the Doctor frowned and stood up, shielding his eyes against the afternoon sun and looking towards the mud track that had been upgraded to road for the sake of archaeology.
“They’re returning,” he said, and Mickey could begin to make out the rumble of a distant car.
Muttering to himself, the Doctor pulled out some sort of microphone-earpiece thing, attached it to his ear and said: “River! Where are you?” in a rather accusatory way, and then frowned.
“What do you mean you’re busy? Listen - just bring the TARDIS here now - my now - your 21st Century colleagues are coming back!”
Whatever River’s response to this was Mickey didn’t know, except that it made the Doctor press his lips together angrily and stuff the communicator back in his pocket.
Mickey waited, but the TARDIS didn’t appear. Instead a battered old mini van appeared in the distance and Mickey looked around, wondering if he and the Doctor could make a run for the SUV, so as to avoid the rather pertinent questions the archaeologists would no doubt have about the hole in the ground where there had until an hour ago been a burial mound.
“Doctor-” he began, half turning, and then realised that the Doctor had sat back down again on his rock, stubbornness engraved on his features.
“All I wanted was a nice evening. With some dancing. What did I do to deserve this?”
He looked at Mickey plaintively, and Mickey took a deep breath.
“Look Doctor, can we just-”
Sighing, the Doctor shook his head.
“No actually, don’t answer that, I know I deserve far worse. But-”
“Doctor!” Mickey had to resist an overwhelming urge to grab hold of the tweed lapels and shake the Time Lord. “Those archaeologists are going to be here in about two seconds-”
The Doctor waved a dismissive hand, like some monarch swatting invisible flies.
“Oh I’ll think of something. I just wonder when I became so stupid. I could at this moment in time be preparing to hibernate with a lovely two-headed new husband, the exact shade of TARDIS blue... With 17 hats. Not a bad deal."
Face clouding over, he shook his head.
"River shoots them, you know. My hats. Uses them as target practice. Especially if they’re on my head at the time. Rose would never have done that. Nor Martha... Or Donna.” He frowned. "Ace might have tried once, but she was more into explosives. Sarah Jane wouldn't dream of it. Leela..."
Letting his arms fall in defeat, Mickey turned to face the five archaeologists which had now climbed out of the van and were staring at the sizable crater in astonishment, exclaiming loudly. Then one of them - a purple haired young woman in a checkered shirt - noticed the still-sleeping Doctor Roberts and ran forward, as the others descended on Mickey and the Doctor. Mickey tried his best to field the barrage of questions by directing them towards the Doctor, who was studying them with the tired look of an old teacher minding nursery children.
At this moment Doctor Roberts finally woke up, and jumped to his feet.
“It was aliens!” he declared, effectively silencing his colleagues, and then looked around in confusion.
“Where did Doctor Song go?” he asked, and the Doctor shot Mickey a pointed look.
“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? Wanders off, leaving us stranded. Sometimes-”
He kept talking, but at that moment there was the barely audible tzap sound of a teleport, and everyone looked up to see a yellow-suited creature appear out of thin air.
“You see? Martians!” Doctor Roberts exclaimed, and the Doctor stopped talking to himself and looked around at them, puzzled, as they were all obviously captivated by something behind him.
The creature, however, didn't seem to notice them at all, being focussed on some kind of oblong piece of technology, which it was shaking and holding up to the darkened visor, before impatiently reaching up and pulling the whole helmet off.
Its face was green and scaly - but with humanoid features - and, although rather different from Morem, Mickey presumed that this was one of the Silurian contractors. He felt like he ought to do, or say, something, but what that something should be, he didn't know.
Then the Doctor, much to his relief, finally stood up and turned around to discover what they were all staring at.
The Silurian was now intently studying his instrument, tapping in a quick sequence - and suddenly a bolt of light shot out towards the group. Everyone scrambled to get out of the way, except the Doctor who was still in the process of turning.
The ray hit him squarely in the chest, and, without a sound, he collapsed on the ground.
Chapter 8.
(Previous chapters here in my memories.)
Summary: In which River is enigmatic, Martha is frustrated, Mickey is intrigued and the Doctor... is a Pond.
Setting: Post-S6 (spoilers for everything aired so far, including First Night/Last Night and The Christmas Special).
Characters: Martha, Mickey, River, the Doctor (11), OCs. (More characters will probably turn up later.)
Word count (this chapter): 2100 words approx.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
As Martha and River disappeared in a flash, Mickey stared somewhat dumbly at the spot where they’d vanished. Martha probably had her own reasons for her actions - she usually did - but sometimes it would be helpful if she would bother to just tell him what she was planning.
He looked at the Doctor - the new, weird, bow tied Doctor that he didn’t know at all, except he seemed a bit less... dramatic, which was nice - and didn’t have a single clue what to say or do. But, worrying about what might happen if he let the Doctor set the agenda, he grasped onto the first thing that came to him.
“So, that Silurian,” he said, “it kinda left a bit easy, I thought... I mean it’s been here for forty years and then River comes along and suddenly it’s happy to relocate to the moon?”
The Doctor studied him for a long moment, then said, voice quietly reprimanding: “Its name was Morem.”
“Well- No one bothered to tell us, did they?” Mickey replied, defensively, and the Doctor frowned and then rubbed his face.
“Of course. Sorry. It’s just been a long night...” He looked around, chose a rock which was not occupied by a gently snoring archaeologist, and sat down rather heavily, then looked at Mickey with a ponderous sort of look.
“Well... it started off as a night, and it was going to be full of fun and fireworks and... nice things, except the second River heard the words ‘Martha Jones’ and ‘archaeological find’ she was impossible to stop - never mind that we have a time machine and that burials don’t move or change or... anything interesting. Of course when I pointed this out she decided to prove me wrong by leaving immediately... And then, when I got here, there was a Silurian which meant walking on eggshells.”
He stopped for a moment, looking into the far distance - as Mickey tried to work out how he had somehow become the Doctor’s confidante - and then continued, clearly speaking to himself.
“I still can’t believe that one of them survived. I wish...”
Sighing he let his head fall, before looking up with a rather resigned and candid look in his eyes, as Mickey sat himself down on the next stone along.
“Sometimes I wonder how this planet produces such... intransigent creatures. You’re all so happy to start fighting over nothing more than suspicion and perceived differences...”
Then he blinked, and studied Mickey with slight confusion.
“Sorry. I disappeared off on a tangent there, didn’t I? I’m... Companion-less at the moment and tend to talk to myself. Well there’s River of course, but she comes and goes, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. What did you ask? Oh, yes I remember. Well, basically, River managed to find Silurian contractors - she has... a lot of contacts - so hopefully Morem’s off somewhere in the 51st Century discovering long lost cousins, rather than watching over long dead ones.”
“Handy lady, your wife,” Mickey said casually, grateful for the explanation, and the Doctor looked simultaneously pleased and embarrassed, scratching the back of his head.
“She is at that. Wives generally are, I think... Which reminds me, I never asked - how’s married life working out for you and Martha?”
Although slightly surprised by the rather personal question, Mickey couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he answered.
"S good," he said, "Yeah, it's really good."
"Good. Very good,” the Doctor replied with great satisfaction, before he continued, studying Mickey thoughtfully.
“You know I was rather worried about you - hope you don’t mind me saying that it put my mind to rest when I discovered that you and Martha had hooked up... They’re good people, the Joneses."
Mickey blinked and tried not to look stupid as he looked at the Doctor.
"You... worried? About me?"
The Doctor leaned forward, tilting his head.
"Of course I worried. You'd lost your grandmother - again - as well as Rose and her family, for good, what with me leaving them in Pete’s world with the other me, and I don't think there was ever anyone else? I...” he hesitated, eyes momentarily lost.
“I happen to know what that's like. So yes, I worried."
For a moment Mickey was completely speechless, then he slowly shook his head, staring at the Doctor as if this strange new version was about to grow wings and fly away. His heart was suddenly beating too fast and he wanted to grab hold of the stone for stability.
"But - you really care. About me." He swallowed, feeling more shaky than he had all day. "You. Care. About me."
The look on the Doctor's face could now only be described as genuine alarm, and he reached out, grasping Mickey's shoulder and studying him intently, clearly struggling with finding the right words to the same extent that Mickey was.
"Mickey... why on earth would you think that I don’t care about you?"
A beat, during which Mickey contemplated just trying to brush the whole thing off - this was exactly what he hadn’t wanted. On the other hand - maybe it’d be good to get the thing out in the open? The Doctor had started it after all...
"Well, y'know... The way you always got my name wrong. The way you'd call me Mickey the Idiot. The way I was so clearly the third wheel on the wagon when it came to you and Rose. Don't get me wrong, you were quite decent some of the time, but-"
He let the sentence hang, and the Doctor let his hand fall away as he slowly nodded, and somehow he suddenly looked very old, and very tired, as he with great care rested his elbows on his knees and threaded his fingers together.
"Ah yes. That," he said softly, and when he continued, it at first seemed as if he was mostly speaking to himself.
“Amy once told me that every room I walk in to, I laugh at all the men and show off to all the girls. And well,” he fidgeted, a little uncomfortably, “she- did have a bit of a point, I suppose. It’s not really a conscious thing, except... well, with you I guess it was. Because Rose...”
A long pause, as he looked into the distance.
“It’s so long ago now, and those were such dark days. But she shone so brightly... How to explain it?”
He shot Mickey a pensive look. “Well, you’ve seen some of the darkness out there by now, Mickey. Seen the price of war. I met Rose when... all I had left was darkness and ashes. And she was young and innocent and I needed her to be those things for me - to show me that there was still something worth living for. That there was still beauty and wonder left... I might have lost everything else, but I had found her, and she... She believed in me, she trusted me, and I clung to her like the drowning man I was. And you..."
A slow shake of the head. “You were a walking, talking, bluntly precise reminder that nothing ever lasts. That I would lose her the way I'd lost everyone else, no matter what. I am very good at lying - even to myself, if necessary - and you wouldn’t let me get away with it. Every time I saw you, I knew that she could have a future with you that I could never give her... So, I suppose that I was jealous. I'm a selfish old man, Mickey, and often foolish too, and I am sorry. You deserved far better than you got, and I’m glad you have now found it.”
For a long moment Mickey could only stare, wanting to ask 'Who are you, and what have you done with the Doctor?' Eventually he just nodded and said a quiet "Thank you," unsure what the hell had just happened. The Doctor had been jealous? The Doctor was apologising? He was beginning to suspect that he'd woken up in a parallel universe, but it seemed an improvement on the old one, so he wasn't about to complain.
Then the Doctor frowned and stood up, shielding his eyes against the afternoon sun and looking towards the mud track that had been upgraded to road for the sake of archaeology.
“They’re returning,” he said, and Mickey could begin to make out the rumble of a distant car.
Muttering to himself, the Doctor pulled out some sort of microphone-earpiece thing, attached it to his ear and said: “River! Where are you?” in a rather accusatory way, and then frowned.
“What do you mean you’re busy? Listen - just bring the TARDIS here now - my now - your 21st Century colleagues are coming back!”
Whatever River’s response to this was Mickey didn’t know, except that it made the Doctor press his lips together angrily and stuff the communicator back in his pocket.
Mickey waited, but the TARDIS didn’t appear. Instead a battered old mini van appeared in the distance and Mickey looked around, wondering if he and the Doctor could make a run for the SUV, so as to avoid the rather pertinent questions the archaeologists would no doubt have about the hole in the ground where there had until an hour ago been a burial mound.
“Doctor-” he began, half turning, and then realised that the Doctor had sat back down again on his rock, stubbornness engraved on his features.
“All I wanted was a nice evening. With some dancing. What did I do to deserve this?”
He looked at Mickey plaintively, and Mickey took a deep breath.
“Look Doctor, can we just-”
Sighing, the Doctor shook his head.
“No actually, don’t answer that, I know I deserve far worse. But-”
“Doctor!” Mickey had to resist an overwhelming urge to grab hold of the tweed lapels and shake the Time Lord. “Those archaeologists are going to be here in about two seconds-”
The Doctor waved a dismissive hand, like some monarch swatting invisible flies.
“Oh I’ll think of something. I just wonder when I became so stupid. I could at this moment in time be preparing to hibernate with a lovely two-headed new husband, the exact shade of TARDIS blue... With 17 hats. Not a bad deal."
Face clouding over, he shook his head.
"River shoots them, you know. My hats. Uses them as target practice. Especially if they’re on my head at the time. Rose would never have done that. Nor Martha... Or Donna.” He frowned. "Ace might have tried once, but she was more into explosives. Sarah Jane wouldn't dream of it. Leela..."
Letting his arms fall in defeat, Mickey turned to face the five archaeologists which had now climbed out of the van and were staring at the sizable crater in astonishment, exclaiming loudly. Then one of them - a purple haired young woman in a checkered shirt - noticed the still-sleeping Doctor Roberts and ran forward, as the others descended on Mickey and the Doctor. Mickey tried his best to field the barrage of questions by directing them towards the Doctor, who was studying them with the tired look of an old teacher minding nursery children.
At this moment Doctor Roberts finally woke up, and jumped to his feet.
“It was aliens!” he declared, effectively silencing his colleagues, and then looked around in confusion.
“Where did Doctor Song go?” he asked, and the Doctor shot Mickey a pointed look.
“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? Wanders off, leaving us stranded. Sometimes-”
He kept talking, but at that moment there was the barely audible tzap sound of a teleport, and everyone looked up to see a yellow-suited creature appear out of thin air.
“You see? Martians!” Doctor Roberts exclaimed, and the Doctor stopped talking to himself and looked around at them, puzzled, as they were all obviously captivated by something behind him.
The creature, however, didn't seem to notice them at all, being focussed on some kind of oblong piece of technology, which it was shaking and holding up to the darkened visor, before impatiently reaching up and pulling the whole helmet off.
Its face was green and scaly - but with humanoid features - and, although rather different from Morem, Mickey presumed that this was one of the Silurian contractors. He felt like he ought to do, or say, something, but what that something should be, he didn't know.
Then the Doctor, much to his relief, finally stood up and turned around to discover what they were all staring at.
The Silurian was now intently studying his instrument, tapping in a quick sequence - and suddenly a bolt of light shot out towards the group. Everyone scrambled to get out of the way, except the Doctor who was still in the process of turning.
The ray hit him squarely in the chest, and, without a sound, he collapsed on the ground.
Chapter 8.