Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or Jack or Martha or Broadway or Cinderella (whoever invented that must be a millionaire, except they're probably dead) or glass slippers or New York or anything else of interest or importance.
So, just a warning, this is the weirdest, strangest story I've ever written. It might be funny, or you might think I'm nutso. I'm hoping for the former, and I'll try to assure you against the latter (though my sister would probably have something else to say). I just want you o like it and maybe think it's a little funny, or not. If you don't find it funny, that's okay. It's when you start considering calling a doctor about me that I'll worry... Unless it's The 10th Doctor! I'll be very happy then ;)
Here it is!
Martha Jones grabbed Jack's hand and pulled him into the theater. "Broadway is the best," she said proudly, even though she'd never actually been there herself. "Tish has seen tons of things here."
Jack grinned. "Tish? Isn't she the one that worked for The Master? Why does she come to New York?"
"Oh, shut up," Martha said, rolling her eyes. "Yes, she is. And she's done so many jobs, she's come here on business several times. I was once here in the 1930s."
Jack, following Martha into their seats at the front, grinned again. "Oh, nice. The Doctor said something about that, with the pig people and the Daleks."
Martha nodded. "Yup, that was the time."
Jack was about to reply when the stage sprang to life. Very soon, the show had started.
"Liking it so far?" Martha whispered about halfway through.
Jack shrugged. "You didn't tell me it was Cinderella for one. I thought it was something real."
Martha rolled her eyes. "It isn't Cinderella, it just involves those characters. I think there's a different ending, actually."
"Yay," Jack hissed back, though laughing quietly. He started to add something, but suddenly everything went black."
Martha screamed, her voice echoing through the theater. "Jack got hit with something! Cinderella's shoe!"
The lights came on, and there was considerable screaming and panicky voices. Martha felt Jack's heart, and, with horror, realized it was not beating. "He's-" she started, then she stopped. "He's fine. Don't touch him."
Within three minutes, Jack coughed, and, as most people would think, magically came back to life. Martha let out a shriek and through herself on him. "Jack! You got hit with Cinderella's glass slipper!"
Jack sat up. "You're serious? I bet that's a first. She's lucky it hit me. I'd sue, but the courthouse is a four story building. I wouldn't risk it. And I don't understand American money anyway."
Though the people seemed quite shaken, Martha burst out laughing. Nothing had happened to him. He was still Jack. Her Jack.
With that, he pulled her to him and kissed her.
Did you like it? Please don't think I'm strange. Or do, it really won't bother me actually. Just don't think I'm really really strange, it's only a story, and if you do think of me like that, you must really think Stephenie Meyer is crazy.
Not trying to get hated by Twilight people, it's only a personal feeling! Please don't hate me, I'm just sweet and innocent.
Okay, you don't have to buy that, I'm not really sweet an innocent. I'm not five either though! Not too close anyway...
Linley :)