Companions of Us All ("Label" entry)
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who_contestTitle: Companions of Us All
Rating: PG for mild threat
Genre: General/Humour
Word Count: 540
Pairings or Characters: Martha, Mickey, the Doctor
Spoilers: Very vague ones for The End of Time: Part 2
Warnings: None
Summary: A meal out becomes a close encounter.
“Don’t look now”, she said, “but I think we’ve got an audience.”
Mickey looked anyway. The man on the opposite table made a hasty pretence of studying the menu. The effect was rather spoilt by the fact that he had it upside-down. As the quiet stretched on uninterrupted the fingers on his left hand began to twitch, drumming out a nervous staccato on the tablecloth.
Satisfied, Mickey turned back. “It’s him.”
Martha quirked an eyebrow. “And you’re sure of that, because...?”
He’d hoped to have this conversation in private, but it looked as though today was already set on working contrary to all expectations. “I- maybe hack UNIT’s records once in a while. Y’know, finger on the pulse. Check out the competition. And you can stop laughing.”
Martha settled for grinning into her cappuccino. “We should go over. Shouldn’t we?”
They took it in turns to risk another sidelong glance at their neighbour. He had abandoned the menu and was preoccupied with the label on the ketchup bottle, affording them a clear view of his face. UNIT’s file photo was only a rough likeness, Mickey realised now. No still image could quite do justice to the age or the energy of him, almost ridiculous yet entirely compelling.
The bow tie was a mistake, though. Or maybe it was a statement – of what, Mickey wasn’t sure yet. “He made us think he was dying. Like, properly dying. Let him feel bad about it for a bit longer.”
In the street outside, something exploded. The blast took out the cafe’s front window and left a perfectly round crater in the tarmac, which began to smoke.
Given enough time with the Doctor, one soon discovered that chaos has its own rhythm. You became, if not unmoved, then at least accustomed to how it went.
Fear is the uniting force behind both chaos and the universe. Learn to make peace with fear, and almost any shock was bearable. That was the theory, anyway.
By the time husband and wife reached the crater’s edge, the moment of eerie calm had passed. Most people were panicking with an enthusiasm gleaned from too many action films. A few had already got out their phones and scaled the nearest lamppost for a better picture.
At some stage in the proceedings, Bow Tie had appeared beside them. “Dr Smith, Mr Smith. Always a pleasure.” The tip of his fringe was on fire. He swatted at it with one hand. “Listen. Bit of a situation here, chit-chat not really an option. I’m just going to assume you recognise me, yes?
“Yep,” said Mickey.
“What the hell have you done?” said Martha.
“Good, good.”
Whatever was in the crater let out a roar. The sound was heavy and metallic, like cannonballs being rolled down a flight of stairs.
Mickey was priming their weapons out of his rucksack. “Right then. Who’s in charge?”
A graceless shrug. “It’s your planet.”
“Like that ever stopped you before.”
“Valid point. Let’s do it together.”
There were certain shocks - certain precious and startling encounters - which even fear couldn’t prepare you for. Mickey was learning to live with those, too.
As though on the same, unspoken cue, the three of them broke into a run.
Rating: PG for mild threat
Genre: General/Humour
Word Count: 540
Pairings or Characters: Martha, Mickey, the Doctor
Spoilers: Very vague ones for The End of Time: Part 2
Warnings: None
Summary: A meal out becomes a close encounter.
“Don’t look now”, she said, “but I think we’ve got an audience.”
Mickey looked anyway. The man on the opposite table made a hasty pretence of studying the menu. The effect was rather spoilt by the fact that he had it upside-down. As the quiet stretched on uninterrupted the fingers on his left hand began to twitch, drumming out a nervous staccato on the tablecloth.
Satisfied, Mickey turned back. “It’s him.”
Martha quirked an eyebrow. “And you’re sure of that, because...?”
He’d hoped to have this conversation in private, but it looked as though today was already set on working contrary to all expectations. “I- maybe hack UNIT’s records once in a while. Y’know, finger on the pulse. Check out the competition. And you can stop laughing.”
Martha settled for grinning into her cappuccino. “We should go over. Shouldn’t we?”
They took it in turns to risk another sidelong glance at their neighbour. He had abandoned the menu and was preoccupied with the label on the ketchup bottle, affording them a clear view of his face. UNIT’s file photo was only a rough likeness, Mickey realised now. No still image could quite do justice to the age or the energy of him, almost ridiculous yet entirely compelling.
The bow tie was a mistake, though. Or maybe it was a statement – of what, Mickey wasn’t sure yet. “He made us think he was dying. Like, properly dying. Let him feel bad about it for a bit longer.”
In the street outside, something exploded. The blast took out the cafe’s front window and left a perfectly round crater in the tarmac, which began to smoke.
Given enough time with the Doctor, one soon discovered that chaos has its own rhythm. You became, if not unmoved, then at least accustomed to how it went.
Fear is the uniting force behind both chaos and the universe. Learn to make peace with fear, and almost any shock was bearable. That was the theory, anyway.
By the time husband and wife reached the crater’s edge, the moment of eerie calm had passed. Most people were panicking with an enthusiasm gleaned from too many action films. A few had already got out their phones and scaled the nearest lamppost for a better picture.
At some stage in the proceedings, Bow Tie had appeared beside them. “Dr Smith, Mr Smith. Always a pleasure.” The tip of his fringe was on fire. He swatted at it with one hand. “Listen. Bit of a situation here, chit-chat not really an option. I’m just going to assume you recognise me, yes?
“Yep,” said Mickey.
“What the hell have you done?” said Martha.
“Good, good.”
Whatever was in the crater let out a roar. The sound was heavy and metallic, like cannonballs being rolled down a flight of stairs.
Mickey was priming their weapons out of his rucksack. “Right then. Who’s in charge?”
A graceless shrug. “It’s your planet.”
“Like that ever stopped you before.”
“Valid point. Let’s do it together.”
There were certain shocks - certain precious and startling encounters - which even fear couldn’t prepare you for. Mickey was learning to live with those, too.
As though on the same, unspoken cue, the three of them broke into a run.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-10-23 06:25 am (UTC)