fic_of_fork (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fic_of_fork) wrote2008-11-02 12:18 am
fic_of_fork) wrote2008-11-02 12:18 am
Entry tags:
Me and My Bobby McGee: Brooklyn, New York: Monday, Dec. 1, 1969
Reprint from Teaspoon...starting to work on these again and maybe I'll be inspired. I work on them when I'm between things.
Word Count: 599
Summary: It's 3000 miles to San Francisco. One human, one Time Lord, and one sonic screwdriver on the Great North American road trip. "Sometimes you get shown the light in the strangest places if you look at it right."-- Jerry Garcia
Warnings: Swearing. Mike never blasphemes, though.
Rating: Teen
Characters: Ten, OC
Genre: Road trip, vignette
Author's note: These could take place either in the normal show's universe (no Time Lords) or in the AU I normally write in. Either way, they should be between "Last of the Time Lords" and "Partners in Crime."
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, Torchwood, or any of its characters, and I'm receiving no profit from this beyond the joy of writing.
"Doc," Mike asked. "What's the date?" After some routine adjustments to the TARDIS, they wound up deposited far earlier than 2009, although it was New York.
The Doctor grabbed a newspaper. "December 1, 1969, roughly 7:20 in the evening, why?"
"We need to find a TV. Soon," Mike said, breaking off in a run, with the Doctor following behind, for once. Mike skidded to a halt in front of a storefront, where radios and the latest televisions were displayed.
They watched as a birth date, the fourteenth of September, on a strip of tape was placed next to a number one. The second date was drawn and stuck second, and so on. The Doctor noticed that Mike was eerily quiet, as if someone had just walked over his grave.
"That's it," Mike said. "I just joined the US Army. God, it's been over thirty years for me, but I still remember exactly how I felt."
"Couldn't you get a deferment? I thought clergy were exempt? And that's not your birthday." the Doctor said.
"I did, they were, and it isn't," Mike answered. "I was IV-D, but that's my brother's birthday, and he was IA. I enlisted, so he wouldn't have to go. I knew they weren't going to put a priest in a combat position, and I thought I could maybe do some good. My brother's no killer. He died in a car crash a few months after I shipped out...and made it so my younger brother wouldn't have to worry."
"I'm so sorry, Mike..." the Doctor said. Mike rarely mentioned his family.
"You know, there's something I've always wanted to do..."
"Name it," the Doctor said.
"Road trip," Mike said. The Doctor turned towards the TARDIS.
"How is that different from life as usual?"
"Road trip. Grateful Dead play at the Fillmore West on February 8th, 1970. That's two months."
"They also play there in three days, which we can easily make with the TARDIS."
"Nope. We road trip," Mike said, resolute and walking towards the street with his thumb out. "Come on, Doc. I never got to do this. I went straight from high school to seminary. Call it my mid-life crisis. What were you doing in '69?"
The Doctor remembered waking up in a hospital, large chunks of his knowledge and abilities relating to time travel gone from his memory, with the sickening realization of just how insidious a punishment he had received. There were still large chunks he didn't remember between the trial and waking up in that hospital bed with a new body. He jogged to catch up with Mike, adding his thumb. As if it were a sign from the universe, itself, not five minutes later a Volkswagen bus pulled up, and the door rolled back, releasing a cloud of pungent herbal smoke.
As Mike and the Doctor climbed inside, the driver leaned over and said, "Where you two going?"
"San Francisco!" Mike said.
"I can take you as far as Pittsburgh. Name's Paul."
"I'm the Doctor and this is Mike," the Doctor said.
"Yeah, say are you like some Jesus freaks or something?"
"I am," Mike replied, "but I won't give you shit for it."
"Cool."
As they pulled away towards the New Jersey Turnpike, Paul's fears about picking up a couple of hitchhikers diminished as the Doctor and Mike started singing along--perhaps a little too loudly--with "Somebody to Love" on the radio. Paul was stunned that Mike, who looked to be his dad's age, even knew the song. If a couple of people liked Jefferson Airplane, he thought, they couldn't be all bad.
Word Count: 599
Summary: It's 3000 miles to San Francisco. One human, one Time Lord, and one sonic screwdriver on the Great North American road trip. "Sometimes you get shown the light in the strangest places if you look at it right."-- Jerry Garcia
Warnings: Swearing. Mike never blasphemes, though.
Rating: Teen
Characters: Ten, OC
Genre: Road trip, vignette
Author's note: These could take place either in the normal show's universe (no Time Lords) or in the AU I normally write in. Either way, they should be between "Last of the Time Lords" and "Partners in Crime."
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, Torchwood, or any of its characters, and I'm receiving no profit from this beyond the joy of writing.
"Doc," Mike asked. "What's the date?" After some routine adjustments to the TARDIS, they wound up deposited far earlier than 2009, although it was New York.
The Doctor grabbed a newspaper. "December 1, 1969, roughly 7:20 in the evening, why?"
"We need to find a TV. Soon," Mike said, breaking off in a run, with the Doctor following behind, for once. Mike skidded to a halt in front of a storefront, where radios and the latest televisions were displayed.
They watched as a birth date, the fourteenth of September, on a strip of tape was placed next to a number one. The second date was drawn and stuck second, and so on. The Doctor noticed that Mike was eerily quiet, as if someone had just walked over his grave.
"That's it," Mike said. "I just joined the US Army. God, it's been over thirty years for me, but I still remember exactly how I felt."
"Couldn't you get a deferment? I thought clergy were exempt? And that's not your birthday." the Doctor said.
"I did, they were, and it isn't," Mike answered. "I was IV-D, but that's my brother's birthday, and he was IA. I enlisted, so he wouldn't have to go. I knew they weren't going to put a priest in a combat position, and I thought I could maybe do some good. My brother's no killer. He died in a car crash a few months after I shipped out...and made it so my younger brother wouldn't have to worry."
"I'm so sorry, Mike..." the Doctor said. Mike rarely mentioned his family.
"You know, there's something I've always wanted to do..."
"Name it," the Doctor said.
"Road trip," Mike said. The Doctor turned towards the TARDIS.
"How is that different from life as usual?"
"Road trip. Grateful Dead play at the Fillmore West on February 8th, 1970. That's two months."
"They also play there in three days, which we can easily make with the TARDIS."
"Nope. We road trip," Mike said, resolute and walking towards the street with his thumb out. "Come on, Doc. I never got to do this. I went straight from high school to seminary. Call it my mid-life crisis. What were you doing in '69?"
The Doctor remembered waking up in a hospital, large chunks of his knowledge and abilities relating to time travel gone from his memory, with the sickening realization of just how insidious a punishment he had received. There were still large chunks he didn't remember between the trial and waking up in that hospital bed with a new body. He jogged to catch up with Mike, adding his thumb. As if it were a sign from the universe, itself, not five minutes later a Volkswagen bus pulled up, and the door rolled back, releasing a cloud of pungent herbal smoke.
As Mike and the Doctor climbed inside, the driver leaned over and said, "Where you two going?"
"San Francisco!" Mike said.
"I can take you as far as Pittsburgh. Name's Paul."
"I'm the Doctor and this is Mike," the Doctor said.
"Yeah, say are you like some Jesus freaks or something?"
"I am," Mike replied, "but I won't give you shit for it."
"Cool."
As they pulled away towards the New Jersey Turnpike, Paul's fears about picking up a couple of hitchhikers diminished as the Doctor and Mike started singing along--perhaps a little too loudly--with "Somebody to Love" on the radio. Paul was stunned that Mike, who looked to be his dad's age, even knew the song. If a couple of people liked Jefferson Airplane, he thought, they couldn't be all bad.