Sam and The Doctor stopped at the crossing on Oxford Road and grinned at each other.
'Here we are, then!' The Timelord declared. 'The Ritz Ballroom!'
The neon sign glowed on the other side of the road, and they stood together as throngs of people bustled past them on their way to the show. Feather-boa clad girls racing, arm-in-arm to catch a glimpse of their androgynous hero from the best possible vantage point.
'You still haven't explained how we're actually going to get in.' Sam said, glancing over to The Doctor.
'Yeah, well. Adds to the mystique, doesn't it? Keeps you guessing.' He smirked.
'Just get on with it, smart arse.'
The Doctor rolled his eyes and muttered something about Sam's impatience as he walked across the road, looking over his shoulder and beckoning Sam to follow. The DI's eyes narrowed when The Doctor didn't head for the front entrance, and slipped down an alleyway to the left of the building. He raced to catch up, grabbing The Doctor's coat and pulling him back.
'Hey. We're not breaking in, are we? I'm a copper. I can't be seen to be breaking in-'
'We're not breaking in! Just - trust me, okay?'
Sam wrinkled his nose at the Doctor and followed as he started walking again, around the back of the building. He stopped outside the back door and gave it a hard knock.
'What the 'ell are you doing?' Sam questioned.
'Shush a minute!' The Doctor snapped as a burly, perpetually annoyed-looking man opened the door.
'Passes.' He said bluntly, eyeing the pair of them with suspicion.
The Doctor smiled and held out his wallet, which Sam could clearly see bore nothing more than a blank bit of paper. This was never going to work, he thought, and resigned himself to the fact that he'd been spending a worrying amount of time with a complete mentalist. The man glared at The Doctor, and then at Sam - who was wholeheartedly preparing himself for a sound kicking for taking the piss.
'In you go, lads.' He nodded.
The Doctor cocked his head and smiled.
'You heard the man, Sam!'
Sam looked at the Doctor, momentarily perplexed, before following him in through the door that the thick-set man was holding open for them.
'Ave a good night, fellas.' He said gruffly.
'Now, which way is it..?' The Doctor thought aloud before Sam caught up with him and nudged his arm.
'What was that all about? There was nothing on that bit of paper!'
'Oh, but there was!' The Doctor grinned. 'It's psychic paper. He saw whatever I wanted him to see - Which was, in this case, a Doctor-Plus-One for this very gig. Thought you might want to meet the man himself before the show!'
'Psychic paper. Now I have heard it all.' Sam scoffed. 'And - I've already met Marc Bolan before, actually.'
'So have I.' The Doctor said boastfully. 'Nice bloke, isn't he?'
Sam shrugged.
'He told me to sort my hair out.' He grumbled. 'Hang on - I thought you said you never got chance to see him live?'
'Well,' The Doctor frowned. 'I got to meet him. I couldn't stick around for the show. Had a bit of an incident. With a big slimy thing. In the toilets.'
'Urgh.' Sam cringed. 'I don't think I want to know!'
'Not like that, you filthy man!' The Doctor gasped. 'It was a Vonkaabel.'
'A what?'
'A Vonkaa- Never mind that now, Sam!' The Doctor said snippily. 'The point is, I never actually got to see the gig and I thought I'd drop in while I was at it. Say hello to the man, seeing as I'm not likely to get much chance again after tonight.'
Sam nodded and let himself be led down a maze of backstage corridors, until they came to a door with a hastily pinned on star. The Doctor knocked gently and a voice called for him to enter.
'Doctor!' The thin man at the opposite end of the room beamed, getting from his seat to envelop him in a friendly hug. 'Long time, no see!'
'Good to see you again, Marc.' The Doctor smiled warmly. 'This is my friend, Sam.'
'Oh, the copper!' He exclaimed, 'We've already met. I'd remember that haircut anywhere. Still not fixed it then, I see?'
Sam smiled, secretly wishing the floor would swallow him up. Marc Bolan telling him he had a crap haircut - He couldn't think of anything more bloody embarrassing.
'Not yet - I'm thinking of growing it out. What do you reckon?'
'Best idea you probably ever had, love.' Marc beamed, before gesturing towards a Party 7 on the dressing room table. 'Fancy a drink, boys?'
The Doctor and Sam accepted the offer and were duly handed a plastic pint of beer each. Mark perched on the table, his thick curls of hair illuminated by the lighted mirror behind him. He kicked his legs and took a mouthful of beer.
'Now this doesn't seem like your dressing room, Marc.' The Doctor noted. 'Last time I met you, this place was full of people!'
'Well,' He smiled ruefully. 'You get to find out who your mates are when your hits aren't always hitting number one and the money stops rolling in as fast. I'm glad you came, though. With your copper.'
'Sam's a mate of mine - I'm giving him a hand with some.. work stuff.'
'Say no more.' Marc smiled. 'As long as he's not on duty now..'
'Not right now, no.' Sam said, shaking his head.
'Good, then you don't mind if I-' He stopped, pulling out a large joint from behind the Party 7. 'Pre-gig preparation. Purely medicinal, you understand?'
'Go on, then.' Sam said - fighting with all his might to refrain from putting on his 'Policeman Sam' hat and giving Marc a sound telling off. 'Just this once.'
'Laughin'.' He grinned, lighting the long cigarette and inhaling deeply. 'You're a good lad.'
He took another deep drag and offered it over to The Doctor, who took it and then passed it over to Sam - without taking so much as a sniff - who looked at it for a moment, having an internal moral debate before concluding that if this was his last night in 1973, then he should probably make the most of it. He smiled and took a long drag, visibly slumping back in his chair.
'Oh, I forgot.' Marc said softly. 'Sorry, Doctor. Doesn't agree with you, does it?'
'Unfortunately.' The Doctor huffed grimly.
'Like asprin?' Sam queried.
'Yes. Exactly like asprin, mores the pity.'
Sam tutted sympathetically and passed the joint back to Marc, who took another deep toke.
'Well, lads.' He said, a little sadly. 'I've got to get myself ready to go on, soon. You're more than welcome to come for a drink with me and the band afterwards, though - if you'd like?'
The Doctor got to his feet and grinned.
'You try and stop us eh, Sam?'
Sam smiled dopily and nodded, reaching out to shake Marc's hand.
'It's been a pleasure, Marc.' He said sincerely. 'You're a legend.'
'Likewise!' He drawled charmingly. 'Although - what you said last time I saw you, about cars? What did you mean by that?'
'Oh, I just meant that yo-ow!'
Sam's explaination was curtailed by a sharp elbow to the ribs from The Doctor. He turned, and The Doctor was glaring at him, lips pressed together and shaking his head furiously.
'I just meant - drive safe. That's all.'
'Oh, well. I don't drive, anyway! Nothing to worry about there, Guv'nor.'
'No, I - I suppose not.' Sam smiled fakely.
'We'll see you later, Marc.' The Doctor interrupted. 'Have a good show.'
'I'll try my best!' He smiled, courteously opening the door for his visitors. 'See you later!'
The door clicked shut behind them and Sam scowled at The Doctor.
'What was that all about?'
'What?'
'We could've saved that man's life, just then! Why wouldn't you let me tell him?'
The Doctor ushered Sam down the corridor, out of earshot from the artist behind the door.
'Because you can't mess with things like that, Sam. Interfering with other people's timelines has a direct effect on everything else. You can only ever right something that's gone completely wrong.'
'But that is wrong, Doctor! He's too young! Surely you could make an exception - just this once?'
'It's just his time to go, Sam.' The Doctor said sadly. 'We can't change it.'
Sam frowned and gazed at the floor.
'But he's such a nice bloke.'
'The good often die young, unfortunately.' The Doctor sighed. 'And I'm 900 years old - so quite what that says about me, I really don't know.'
'900? Get off with yer.' Sam scoffed. 'If you're 900 years old, I'll eat my own leg.'
'Well,' He smiled. 'Let's get this gig over with, and I'll take you to a kebab house where they'd be more than happy to lop it off, prepare it for you, and share it with their customers!'
'I think I'll pass on that one, somehow.' He snorted, as they headed out towards the stage.
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'And It's plain to see, you were meant for me - Yeah! I'm your toy, you're 20th Century Boy..'
Amongst the swaying masses, two individuals stood on the outskirts of the crowd, watching a doomed young man preen and pout onstage. They clutched their drinks and danced about wildly - enjoying the excuse to behave like fools. They pushed the thought of the man's fate to the back of their minds.
Because you have to.
If you spent your every waking moment, thinking about what terrible things lay in store for everyone you'd ever met - then you wouldn't have time for anything else, would you?
Telegram Sam, you're my main man!
Sam glanced over his shoulder and the slender, wiry boy with curly hair was leaning over the stage, singing to him with a smile on his face. Sam smiled back and gave a wordless thanks - himself and the Doctor raising their glasses and letting out a loud roar of appreciation.
Sam made a mental note to put this at the top of his 'Best Ever Gigs' list, and carried on dancing.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
'Oh my god!' Sam yelped gleefully as he barrelled through the door of the bedsit. 'That was unreal.'
The Doctor followed closely behind, chuckling.
'Well, maybe when you're back in 2006 you could return the favour. Take me to see the Spice Girls or something.'
'Spice Girls?!' Sam turned, raising his eyebrows incredulously. 'I actually have some taste in music, thanks very much. And besides, The Spice Girls split up, didn't they?'
'Oh, of course - I forgot.' The Doctor nodded. '2007. They get back together, then.'
Sam's nose wrinkled in disgust.
'Why is it that all the shite bands realise that they can't make money on the back of their own negligible talent and get back together, whilst all the decent ones never do? Pisses me right off.'
The Doctor gave him a shrug and a smile and put his jacket over the back of the armchair. Sam headed for the kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
'If I didn't know better, Sam Tyler - I'd say you were trying to get me drunk!'
'In your dreams, Doctor!' Came the cheeky reply. 'And besides - It's a celebration. I get to go home, tomorrow! I might end up going home with a hangover, but the fact still remains - I'm going home!'
'Well,' The Doctor grinned, accepting the glass of Red being offered. 'Can't argue with that, can I?
'Absolutely not.'
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'So,' Sam said, turning his head towards the Doctor who was laying beside him, pensively staring at the ceiling. 'You were going to tell me what a Timelord is.'
The Doctor took a deep breath and nodded. He sat up slightly, reached down for his glass and took a mouthful of wine - the warm, creeping sensation of alcohol swelling in his stomach. He returned to his original position and turned on his side, head resting on his hand.
'Right. Well - The Timelords were a race of exactly that - Lords of time. Surveyors of space and time, with the ability to travel to any point of either and intervene if neccasary, I suppose. Not that many of them really did. Well, except for me.'
'Go on, then.' Sam smiled. 'Where're you from? Venus? Pluto?'
'Oh, you stupid apes.' The Doctor tutted, rolling his eyes. 'There are planets outside of your solar system, you know? The Timelords were from Gallifrey. I'm from Gallifrey.'
Gallifrey..
The word resounded in Sam's head. He wasn't sure why, or how, but it sounded strangely familiar. Must've read it in a comic or something..
'Gallifrey?' Sam repeated. 'I'm sure I've heard of it.'
The Doctor glared at Sam, perplexed.
'I doubt that, Sam.'
'I have, I swear!' He nodded. 'I don't know where, but it's-'
'It's impossible.' The Doctor said quietly. 'For a start - It doesn't even exist. Not anymore.'
Sam frowned at The Doctor, tilting his head slightly. The sadness in The Timelord's eyes was plain to see - and for some reason, he could almost feel it. He swallowed, adjusting the pillow beneath him.
'So what happened?'
The Doctor looked down, loath to explain what had happened to Gallifrey. He'd explained it so many times, to so many people, it was becoming more like a rehearsed speech than anything else - and yet it never became any less gut-wrenching. He cleared his throat and got comfortable, ready to roll it out for what felt like the thousandth time.
'It burnt.' He said tersely, looking down and fiddling with the hem of the blanket. 'There was a war, and it burnt.'
'Jesus.' Sam said quietly, watching The Doctor's slim fingers and the slight tremor in them. 'A war against who?'
'The Daleks, our oldest enemy. A race of - well, killing machines, essentially. Devoid of emotion, feelings.. The perfect killer.'
Sam nodded, listening patiently - compelled to reach for the hand in front of him and give it a slight squeeze, urging The Doctor to continue. The Timelord regarded it, but did not comment - continuing his story;
'The Timelords and The Daleks battled for years - to the point where both planets were ravaged by the conflict. So many lives were lost. Too many. It was decided that for the universe to survive - to stop the war spilling out and destroying everything in it's path - it had to be ended, definitively.'
Sam swallowed once, a sinking feeling that he couldn't comprehend swelling in his gut.
'I was commanded to be the one to end it - travelling outside of the blast zone in the TARDIS to set a device off that would destroy both Gallifrey and The Daleks - wipe it all out of existence for the good of the rest.' He added sombrely. 'I had to sit and watch, while my home - while everyone and everything - was consumed by fire. Until everything was nothing more than particles of dust in the wind.'
'Everything was destroyed?' Sam questioned, a sudden thickness in his throat that made it difficult for the words to emerge. 'Everything?'
The Doctor nodded once, eyes downcast. Sam continued to grip The Doctor's hand - Still unsure why he'd done it in the first place. He swore he could feel the despair radiating from The Doctor, but chose not to mention it for fear of sounding odd. Then again, he was holding hands with what was essentially an alien - but strangely enough, that felt completely normal. What wasn't normal, however, was the rising lump in his throat and the feeling in his belly that wasn't going away. He'd heard enough sob stories in his time to fill the Titanic - his own being one of them - but the thought of this alien planet that he'd never been to being burnt to a crisp was enough to make him falter? Now, that was strange, even if it was impossibly sad.
The Doctor looks up, noticing Sam's discomfort immediately. He gave the hand gripping his a slight squeeze. Sam worried his lower lip with his teeth and glanced up, blinking at The Doctor with an unexpected stinging sensation in his eyes.
'However do you cope?' He questioned softly. 'Knowing all of that happened. How on earth do you manage to function after something like that?'
The Doctor couldn't really answer. He wasn't even sure himself, if he was honest.
'Oh, you know - I keep myself busy.' He said, trying to maintain some kind of enthusiasm in his voice. 'I get by.'
He took a deep breath as Sam's eyes continued to study him. He shook his head slightly and began to get up from the bed.
'Anyway, I'd best leave you to get some sleep. I'll take the chair tonight - It was very good of you to lend me the bed last night, but I'm fairly sure you need a bit more sleep than I do.'
'No.' Sam said, catching hold of The Doctor's sleeve as he went to get up. 'Honestly - It's really uncomfy, that chair. Besides, you don't take up much room - skinny sod - I'm sure we can both fit on here for one night.'
'Why?' The Doctor smiled. 'Scared I'm going to run off before the morning?'
'Maybe.' Sam smiled back. 'And maybe I'm scared I'm going to wake up in the morning and this will all have been another bloody hallucination.'
'I can assure you it's no-'
'Stay.' He said firmly. 'Please.'
The Doctor sighed slightly and nodded, understanding Sam's worry. He swung his legs back onto the bed and returned to where he'd been laying. Sam shifted down, tugging out the blanket and pulling it over his shoulders.
'G'nite, Doctor.' He smiled, closing his eyes.
The Doctor was taken by surprise when five minutes later, a softly-snoring Sam snaked an arm around his waist. The Doctor looked down at it for a moment, slightly puzzled - before closing his own eyes and nuzzling his head against the one pillow that they shared.
'G'nite, Sam Tyler.'
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The alarm rang out at 6:00AM - And Sam had barely slept. He groaned, initially a bit baffled by the presence of another in his bed before his brain engaged enough to remember the last night's events. He shifted up the bed and leaned over The Doctor, batting the alarm clock with the tips of his fingers until the ringing stopped. He gave the seemingly dozing Timelord a nudge and climbed out of bed.
'Come on, Doc!' He grinned, sitting on the chair to put his shoes on. 'Time we were leaving!'
The Doctor sat up and rubbed his eyes dozily. It wasn't like him to sleep much, but he felt rather disgruntled that he'd been deposed from his comfortable position. Sam had insisted they leave at 6 - before Gene had chance to burst through the door to send him on yet another case.
'Are you sure you don't want to say goodbye to your friends here? You're never going to see them again, you know?'
Sam paused for a moment, his shoelaces wrapped around his fingers. He looked up at the Doctor and shrugged.
'It'd take too much explaining.' He said grimly. 'They wouldn't understand. It's best that I just leave quietly.'
The Doctor sighed, knowing that Sam was probably right.
'In which case, we'd better get a move on.'
Sam smiled, getting up and putting on his jacket. He wasn't sure how he'd explain his new 'retro' look to his mum and everyone else in 2006 - but given the fact that his normal clothes had somehow been lost on the way to 1973, he'd have to think of something. He fastened the last button and smiled.
'Let's get out of here.'
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Sam watched The Doctor, pulling at levers and pressing buttons manically. The TARDIS began to shudder, emitting a loud screeching sound as it began to take off. A sharp jolt caused Sam to clutch at a nearby rail to stop himself tumbling over and he laughed loudly.
'I should've put on my seatbelt!'
The Doctor smirked over the console, his foot holding down one lever whilst his hands fidgeted with another.
'Everyone says that! I never said time-travel was comfortable.'
'No chance of a refund, then?' Sam quipped, having to shout over the noise.
'TARDIS Airlines don't do refunds.' He chuckled.
There was a loud boom, and they touched down with a massive thump, causing the pair of them to fly backwards onto the grated flooring. Sam winced and touched the back of his head to make sure he wasn't bleeding. He examined the tips of his fingers before letting his head fall back, laughing almost hysterically. The Doctor closed his eyes and smiled, almost enjoying the sound of laughter that hadn't really filled his humble little ship since he'd left Rose, his last companion, in an alternate universe - unable to return. He smiled as memories rushed through his mind, only snapped from his thoughts by a gentle shove from Sam.
'Hey.' He said, as excited as a child on Christmas morning. 'Are we there, yet?'
The Doctor's eyes snapped open and he beamed, jumping to his feet.
'Let's have a look, shall we?'
He scrambled to the console, examining the screen.
'Well?'
The Doctor turned and grinned.
'2006. Manchester. Around - ooh - two hours before you had your accident?' He smiled, turning back to Sam. 'Just remember to use your Green Cross Code this time around, eh? I don't want to have to come and rescue you again.'
There was a look on Sam's face akin to disappointment.
'So, you're not going to come with me?' He questioned. 'Not even for a quick cup of coffee before you take off again?'
The Doctor shrugged slightly.
'I shouldn't really. I-'
'Please.' Sam said, touching The Doctor's shoulder lightly. The thought of leaving his new friend to be all alone again whilst he was reunited with his friends and family a little cruel, really. 'Just to let me say thanks.'
The Doctor sighed and rolled his eyes with mock annoyance.
'I suppose. If you insist.' He huffed. 'Although, you'd better make that a cup of tea. Teabags in 1973 weren't up to much, were they?'
'Ugh, you're telling me!' Sam grinned, before tugging at The Doctor's sleeve again. 'Come on then, Timelord. Cup of tea, it is.'
The Doctor grinned and followed Sam out of the door of the TARDIS, remembering to lock the door behind them.
'Brilliant!' Sam exclaimed, bounding eagerly up the road. 'We're just round the corner from Mum's house. C'mon!'
The Doctor tutted and ran after him.
'It's a bit early to be meeting the parents, isn't it? We've only just met!'
'Shut up, you.' Sam giggled breathlessly over his shoulder. 'I think she's got every right to meet the man who saved my life. And besides, you won't get a better cup of tea this side of Salford.'
'Yeah - I'd possibly refrain from mentioning anything about time travel or 1973. She'd probably have you committed.'
'You're probably right.' Sam smiled as he slowed down outside a semi-detatched house. 'This stupid ape isn't as stupid as he looks.'
The Doctor snorted and followed him up the neatly paved driveway, waiting behind Sam as he knocked on the white, double-glazed door. He bounced impatiently, muttering to himself about how his mum always took ages to answer the bloody door. Eventually, a blonde-grey haired woman appeared, and she let out one hell of a shriek as Sam flung his arms around her.
'Mam!' He cried, squeezing the poor woman as if his life depended on it.
'Ey!' She yelped, shoving him backwards and glaring at him with what certainly looked like terror in her eyes. 'Gerroff me, you nutter. Who the bloody 'ell do you think you are?'
The Doctor looked at her curiously, then to Sam, who was looking at the woman with wide eyes.
'But... Mam?'
The woman's brow furrowed and she shook her head.
'Sorry, love.' She said, unable to be too annoyed at the distressed looking young man, despite her initial fright. 'M'afraid you've got the wrong house.'
Sam laughed. A high-pitched, nervous laugh.
'Yeah, mam. Very funny. Let us in for a cuppa, will you? We're parched!'
'Listen, kidda.' She said sternly. 'I don't know who you are, but I am not your sodding mother, alright? Now gerroff my doorstep before I call the bloody police.'
'Mam!' He yelled as the door was swiftly slammed in his face. He sniffed, bashing the palm of his hand on the glass. 'Wait! Please!'
'Piss off, you nutter!' Came the disgruntled reply through the letterbox. 'You should be bloody locked up, scaring an old woman like that! Care in the bastard community, indeed. Get off my bloody drive!'
The letterbox flicked shut and Sam stepped backwards, staring at the door for a minute. The Doctor sighed and patted Sam's shoulder.
'Sam, I'm sorry.'
Sam snarled, batting The Doctor's hand away. He span around on his heels, shoving The Doctor backwards angrily.
'Is this some kind of pissing joke? Why doesn't she know who I am?!' He yelled, pointing backwards at the door. 'That's my mum in there - why doesn't she know me?!'
The Doctor's mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he was thinking of something clever to explain the whole thing. Of course, he couldn't. He'd taken Sam back to the year he belonged. The dimension he belonged. In all honestly, he truly had no idea what was going on.
'I don't know.' He said finally, shaking his head.
'Well why don't you bloody know?!' Sam shouted, backing The Doctor onto the pavement. 'You're the know-it-all bastard that brought me here - why can't you fucking fix it?'
'Because in all honesty, I have no idea what's happened, Sam!' The Doctor said gently, trying to get Sam to calm down. 'We're in the right place, at the right time - It should all be completely straightfoward.'
'But it isn't, Doctor!' Sam said, his voice crackling. 'My own bloody mother doesn't know who I am!'
The Doctor frowned, scuffing his feet against the asphalt.
'Well clearly, you don't belong here. There must have been some kind of dimensional shift when you had your accident that I hadn't taken into account.' He reasoned, clutching at straws. 'The only thing we can do is head back to 1973 and figure it out from there.'
'No..' Sam said forlornly, sniffing slightly. 'I can't go back there. I can't.'
'Only temporarily.' The Doctor said, trying to persuade him. 'Just while I figure all this out. Then we can try again and we can take you back where you belong.'
'And what if it doesn't work next time? And the time after that?' Sam almost wailed. 'Doctor, please. I just want to go home.'
The Doctor sighed, annoyed at his utter cluelessness on this particular subject. He always hated it when he didn't know about something - made him feel less intellectually superior than he knew he was.
'Right now, Sam,' He frowned. '1973 is the closest to home you have.'
Sam looked down, choking back a frightened sob. He pawed at his eyes and took a deep breath before looking back up at The Doctor, who was already reaching out to lead him back to the TARDIS. Sam grabbed his hand and stared into his eyes, a solitary tear sliding down his cheek.
'Just promise me you'll fix this.' He said through gritted teeth. 'Please. Just promise me.'
The Doctor nodded once and sighed, pulling Sam to his chest tentatively. Sam sniffed, his head spinning. He gripped onto The Doctor's coat and screwed his eyes shut, a sudden surge of steady beeps filling his mind again - loud enough to make him wince in discomfort. A voice rang out over the din, and he couldn't tell if it was his mother at some distant bedside or The Doctor.
'We'll get you home, Sam. I promise.'
