Fic: Ramblin' Man
Aug. 6th, 2011 02:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
antonomasiaTitle: Ramblin' Man
Fandom: Doctor Who/Life on Mars
Rating: G
Word Count: 408
Spoilers: None.
Summary: The Doctor lands the TARDIS in the wrong year (as usual), and bumps into someone who doesn't realize he could use the Doctor's help.
Author's Note: I originally wrote this in July 2010.
"July 2, 1937, Lae, Papua New Guinea. Amelia Earhart is about to begin the flight that she will never return from. Great woman, Amelia. Brilliant banjo player."
"Doctor," Martha tried to cut in, but the Doctor ignored her.
"Only the 16th woman ever to be given a pilot's license. Nowhere near as good a pilot as me, but then, no one is."
"Doctor," Martha tried again, impatiently.
"She was the first woman to fly across the Atlantic. Tried to fly around the world too. No one really knows what happened to her. I thought we could fly behind her, try and see where she crashed."
"Doctor, this isn't New Guinea. It's not even 1937, and it's definitely not July," Martha finally blurted out.
The Doctor paused his monologue to actually take a look around him. The TARDIS had landed outside a record shop called Vinyl Heaven on a crowded street. Passers-by in warm clothes were clearly chattering to one another in English, and the cars definitely looked more like '70's models than '30's ones.
"Ah," replied the Doctor, succinctly. He turned to the blonde man in the leather jacket, striped shirt, Cuban heels, and St. Christopher's medallion around his neck who had just walked past. "Excuse me, " he said, a friendly grin plastered on his face, "I know this may sound like a silly question, but could you tell me what year this is?"
The man stared at him, his face twisting in such a way that the Doctor couldn't tell if he was about to start hysterically laughing or crying. "Sorry, mate. I'm the wrong person to ask," the man answered, and practically ran to the Ford Cortina double parked down the street. He dove into the passenger seat, slamming the door hurriedly behind him, and, after conducting a quick muffled argument with the driver, the car peeled away far faster than health and safety laws would have advised.
While the Doctor stared after him, bemused, Martha picked up a newspaper that had been abandoned on the sidewalk. "October 9, 1973, Manchester," she read, giving him a look.
"'73, '37, same thing," grumbled the Doctor. "Well, as long as it's 1973, there was a great rock concert in New York on July 28. Wanna go? Grateful Dead, the Allman Brothers Band…"
Martha couldn't resist the hope shining in his eyes. "Sure," she said, laughing as he grabbed her hand and pulled her eagerly back to the TARDIS.
Note: This story takes place before Utopia/The Sound of Drums/The Last of the Time Lords, so the Doctor and Martha don't notice Sam Tyler's physical resemblance to the Master.
Fandom: Doctor Who/Life on Mars
Rating: G
Word Count: 408
Spoilers: None.
Summary: The Doctor lands the TARDIS in the wrong year (as usual), and bumps into someone who doesn't realize he could use the Doctor's help.
Author's Note: I originally wrote this in July 2010.
"July 2, 1937, Lae, Papua New Guinea. Amelia Earhart is about to begin the flight that she will never return from. Great woman, Amelia. Brilliant banjo player."
"Doctor," Martha tried to cut in, but the Doctor ignored her.
"Only the 16th woman ever to be given a pilot's license. Nowhere near as good a pilot as me, but then, no one is."
"Doctor," Martha tried again, impatiently.
"She was the first woman to fly across the Atlantic. Tried to fly around the world too. No one really knows what happened to her. I thought we could fly behind her, try and see where she crashed."
"Doctor, this isn't New Guinea. It's not even 1937, and it's definitely not July," Martha finally blurted out.
The Doctor paused his monologue to actually take a look around him. The TARDIS had landed outside a record shop called Vinyl Heaven on a crowded street. Passers-by in warm clothes were clearly chattering to one another in English, and the cars definitely looked more like '70's models than '30's ones.
"Ah," replied the Doctor, succinctly. He turned to the blonde man in the leather jacket, striped shirt, Cuban heels, and St. Christopher's medallion around his neck who had just walked past. "Excuse me, " he said, a friendly grin plastered on his face, "I know this may sound like a silly question, but could you tell me what year this is?"
The man stared at him, his face twisting in such a way that the Doctor couldn't tell if he was about to start hysterically laughing or crying. "Sorry, mate. I'm the wrong person to ask," the man answered, and practically ran to the Ford Cortina double parked down the street. He dove into the passenger seat, slamming the door hurriedly behind him, and, after conducting a quick muffled argument with the driver, the car peeled away far faster than health and safety laws would have advised.
While the Doctor stared after him, bemused, Martha picked up a newspaper that had been abandoned on the sidewalk. "October 9, 1973, Manchester," she read, giving him a look.
"'73, '37, same thing," grumbled the Doctor. "Well, as long as it's 1973, there was a great rock concert in New York on July 28. Wanna go? Grateful Dead, the Allman Brothers Band…"
Martha couldn't resist the hope shining in his eyes. "Sure," she said, laughing as he grabbed her hand and pulled her eagerly back to the TARDIS.
Note: This story takes place before Utopia/The Sound of Drums/The Last of the Time Lords, so the Doctor and Martha don't notice Sam Tyler's physical resemblance to the Master.
