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Story contains spoilers for "Rise of the Cybermen" and "Age of Steel". You have been warned!
Another World
So, this was it. A new world, and, in a way at least, a new life.
Mickey Smith slammed the door of the blue LDV van and turned to watch it leave. Jake said he would be back around noon to collect him before they headed to "liberate" France.
It seemed strange, after his first meeting with Jake, in which it had been made perfectly clear that he didn't like Mickey, believing him to be nothing more than a cheap imitation of his friend, that now, after only a short time passing between the pair of them, things were different. Whether they could exactly be called friends, only time would tell, but for now Mickey was happy to have at least one person he could talk to.
No, that was wrong. There was another.
He turned around and stared at the blue wooden door before him and sighed. This was it. After only dreaming of the possibility for so long he would finally be able to set things right. He might not have been able to save her before, but he would make damned sure he would save her now.
Reaching out he knocked loudly on the wooden door frame and waited expectantly for the door to open. He looked impatiently up and down the quiet street. Nothing was moving. People were inside their homes, probably watching their televisions for any news that might come out, anything that might possibly tell them what had happened.
From what he and Jake had heard on the radio everyone had been told to stay inside. They hadn't been told why, they had just been told not to leave their homes. He, however, knew exactly why.
The mad businessman, what was his name…Loomik or something? Anyway, his name didn't matter in the grand scheme of things; he'd tried to take over the world, to "upgrade" man to a new species, Cyberman. He had removed people's brains from their bodies and forcibly implanted them into metal bodies. They would live forever, but at the cost of their humanity. No emotions, no creativity, no feelings, just cold hard metal. But then he'd been stopped, and not just by Rose, or her dad, or even the Doctor, but by Mickey. Who'd of thought it, he had saved the day; but more than that, he'd even saved everybody else's lives.
He felt a great warmth spread through his body at that thought. Mickey "the idiot" had saved the day. He'd shown everybody. He wasn't just the tin dog.
He knocked on the door frame again. His Gran was probably in the kitchen putting on a fresh cup of tea. That, he just knew, wouldn't be different here. This may well be a different, parallel world, but some things just had to be the same.
He thought about how he would try and explain things to her. It was going to be difficult. He couldn't tell her that he was Mickey not Ricky, she wouldn't believe him anyway, but still, something gnawed at him from the back of his mind. This wasn't his Gran, and he wasn't her Ricky, but did that really matter? In the grand scheme of things they were both alone now, both without their respective other, but him staying here, in this universe, meant that they both could at least have the next best thing, each other.
His expectant face creased into a frown. He had been standing here for, what, 2 minutes? And she still hadn't answered the door. Then he noticed something, and his heart skipped a beat. The door was slightly ajar. Not a lot, barely noticeable in fact, but definitely ajar. He pushed on it lightly and it swung open.
To his relief he didn't find what he had seen once, those many years ago in his own universe. His Gran wasn't splayed out on the floor, dead after tripping over the damaged carpet on the stairs. He sighed, a large grateful sigh. At least that fate hadn't befallen her here as it had once before.
He looked at the step, the broken piece of carpet seemingly staring back, daring him to touch it. He snarled at it before turning his eyes inward. The lights in the hall were on, which in itself wouldn't have been strange, his Gran may have been blind but she did tend to keep up appearances for the outside world.
"If dem burglars see a light on den they'll t'ink twice before tryin' anytin" he remembered her saying. He allowed himself a wry smile until he realised why he had found it strange. Early morning it might well be, but the sun was still up and his Gran would certainly have turned the lights off as soon as she had woken. Something strange was definitely happening.
"Gran!" he shouted into the house. "Gran! You there?"
Silence answered him. His face hardening he stepped inside, into a place so familiar and yet strangely alien. Hearing noises he peeked through to the small living room, tapping on the lightweight wooden door as he did so.
"Gran?" he asked, hoping, praying for an answer.
The room was empty, the noise coming from a television in the corner furthest from the window. Frowning he continued his search of the rest of the familiar, but oddly different house, his pained calls becoming ever more desperate with each passing moment.
After searching both downstairs and up he stepped slowly, dejectedly, down the stairs and out into the cool daylight. His eyes wide he looked up and down the street as he had done before but this time something caught his eye, something he had missed earlier, and his heart dropped.
Doors along the entire length of the street were open. Some opening and closing, tapping lightly in their frames with the cool breeze that now seemed to be being channelled down the street like a wind tunnel.
Without thinking he found himself rushing to the next house. He crashed through the open doorway and searched the entire building from top to bottom and found nothing, no-one. No people. No adults. No children. No families huddled round their television sets begging for news of loved ones, nothing.
He sped out onto the street again and ran on to search the next house, and then the next, and the next, and the next, until within half and hour he had searched more than half the houses in the street. They were all the same. Empty, lifeless husks, without a soul to be found.
As he searched one final house, all hope leaving him of finding his Gran, of finding anyone, he heard whimpering noises coming from upstairs. Leaping up the stairs two at a time he burst into a small bedroom to be met by what appeared to be a pyjama clad young girl of no more than 5 or 6, legs pulled up to her chest, crying on her bed. He moved towards her, instinct taking over as her cries gave him an unexplainable need to protect her.
As he approached she looked up, her bloodshot eyes full of fear and tears as she stared at him.
"Who are you?" she whimpered, pain filling her wavering voice. "Where's my mummy?"
"I'm Mickey" he said as calmly and reassuringly as he could, crouching down in front of her. "What's your name?"
She looked at him for a moment, then shook her head.
"What, you not talkin' to me now?" he asked in mock hurt. The little girl shook her head again.
"Why not?" he asked. "Do I smell or some fink?" As he spoke he lifted his arms and sniffed at his arm pit. Actually, he thought to himself, you do smell pretty rancid.
The little girl smiled slightly, and Mickey smiled back. "So, are you goin' to tell me what your name is then?"
"Jessie" came the slight, quivering reply.
"Ah. That's a nice name" Mickey smiled, trying his best to sound cheerful. "So, where's your mum and dad got to?"
Her bottom lip started to quiver and she pulled her knees back up to cover her face again before pointing toward the door.
"What? They left you?" he asked.
The little girl nodded, her long blonde hair bouncing lightly. "With the others" she said in her pained voice.
"Others…" Mickey repeated, a horrible cold vice gripping his heart as all the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place.
The little girl nodded again. "Everyone in the street" she added, again looking up at Mickey.
He got up, he didn't know why, he just felt he had to move, but no sooner did he try before his legs shakily gave way beneath him and he collapsed into a shocked sitting position on the edge of the girls' bed. His mind couldn't process what he had just heard.
He had travelled through time and space in a Police Box. Fought robots, Sychorax, and even launched a missile at Downing Street and his mind had been able to process and accept it all, but now here he was, in an alternate universe. Just a few hours ago he had seen what he thought to be impossible; he had met his old Gran again. In his universe she was dead, had been for years, but here she was, alive. He had fought and helped defeat the Cybermen, saved this world, saved his Gran. He had chosen to stay here, to look after her, to stop the harm coming to her that had, in his universe, already taken her from him, but now he found that there was no reason. She wasn't home and he had an awful idea as to where she had gone. Not only that, but everything he had known, Rose, Jackie, the estate, everything was either different here or didn't exist at all and here he was, trapped here for eternity.
He jumped as he felt something wrap itself around his waist. Looking down he saw the crown of a blond pressed against his chest and realised that Jessie, the little girl who had just lost everything, lost her parents, just as he had those many years ago, had wrapped herself around him as the only human contact she had.
Standing he picked her up into his arms. He could hear her still whimpering against his chest and he decided upon his course of action.
He would save this little girl.
He would try and find her family, she must have some Aunts or Uncles or even Grandparents who could take her in, and if not then he would look after her, protect her. With that thought in mind, Mickey Smith stepped into the cold, windy street, the young blonde girl he had just met wrapped tightly in his arms, and set off to find a new life in a strange, yet familiar new world.
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