AN: I know, I said May 20th, but I have some mental health reasons to return. Also, I still waste hours doing things without this fic to write, like, I've watched so much Ghost Whisperer you don't even know tbh. I'm gonna be more relaxed with updates til the 20th though - it took me three days to write this one. Basically, the fic is back, yay! But here, starting with a bang.
DAY EIGHTY
Eleven
A New Hope
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"
"You broke it!"
"You broke it!"
"I did not! It was your idea!"
"It was not!"
"You're the one wearing the Storm Trooper helmet!"
"It's a Clone Trooper and that was your idea too just because it didn't fit you!"
"You obviously have an abnormally small head!"
"Like who!? Your wife!?"
"Your girlfriend!"
"I'm sure they have the same sized heads!"
Adam Mitchell and the Eleventh Doctor were stood at odds in the latter's bedroom, staring at the smashed pieces of a replica lightsaber on the floor. The other replica lightsaber was still held in Eleven's hand, as they stared at the mess on the floor. Then Eleven saw Adam take his phone out.
"What are you doing?" he asked sharply.
"Calling Oswin!"
"Why!?"
"To ask her what to do!"
"Don't call her! She'll tell Clara! If Clara finds out one of her lightsabers is broken she'll never forgive me!" Eleven pleaded, but Adam did not relent, so the Doctor was left with no other choice but to make a lunge for the phone straight out of his hand. And that was when it clattered to the floor, and before either of them could grab for it, it rang. "Who is it!?" Eleven demanded.
"Oswin," Adam said.
"Why is she calling you!?"
"...Because I'm her boyfriend, probably," Adam stooped to get the phone.
"Don't answer!"
"She'll be suspicious if I don't answer!"
"Well it's the morning - you might still be asleep!" Eleven spluttered defensively.
"I have to answer!"
"No, you-"
"Hello?" Adam completely ignored Eleven, who silenced immediately, flailing his arm and the other lightsaber in quiet protest, "Me? I'm fine... How's your sister?"
"Don't ask that!" the Doctor hissed, then he pulled out his sonic screwdriver and zapped Adam's phone so it was forced to go on speaker and he couldn't switch it off.
"Why?"
"...The Doctor wants to know."
"You're with the Doctor?"
"I... No. No, I'm not, I just thought I'd check on his behalf. Because he's probably wondering. Just routine checking-up on Clara..." The Doctor was staring slack-jawed at the idiot.
"So are you busy, or?"
The Doctor mouthed, "Yes," trying to give him dark, threatening eyes.
"...Yes," Adam said, "...Very busy... I'm in the shower."
"...So am I just meant to assume there's a really good reason you're lying to me?"
"...It'd be really good of you if you would do that, yeah," Adam said, and then Eleven had had enough and he grabbed the phone finally.
"Boyfriendy has to go now, urgent business, sorry," and he hung up on his sister-in-law, and then sonicked the phone again, and it sparked and died.
"Why'd you do that!? She called me, what if it was important!?"
"This is important! You have to fix it."
"Fix it with what!? Sellotape!?"
"No! Buy a new one! You're a millionaire! I can't do it, I have no money and I wouldn't get the right one!" Eleven argued.
"Okay, so, it was your idea for me to come in here to hide from whatever's going on with Rose with you, it was your idea to play with Clara's lightsabers, but I have to clean up your mess!?" Adam argued.
"Yes, exactly! It was your lightsaber that broke anyway," Eleven said, "And I have things to do. Important, Time Lord things."
"You're not even coming!?"
"No! Why should I!?" Adam Mitchell stared at him, "I have to spend today distracting the Tenth Doctor," said Eleven, "Which is far more important than-"
"Than your head on a spike when Clara finds out about this?" Mitchell challenged. Eleven narrowed his eyes. "Fine, fine, I'll clean up your mess. Aren't Time Lords supposed to be noble or something?" He dropped the other lightsaber (Eleven winced), and the Clone Trooper helmet, and went towards the door, leaving.
Adam
He was sat, half an hour later, at his computer trawling eBay and other auction sites for a lightsaber as far identical to the one Clara had as possible, and having no luck. In the back of his mind, he was also wondering what he was going to do about his phone and the fact it was now completely fried inside. Absently, he drank some of the coffee on the desk next to him and wondered why Oswin had called him.
Someone knocked on the door and he looked over, and heard a curse word distantly. Frowning, he got up and went and opened it, and found Martha standing there, staring at some scorch marks on his door.
"Nice," he said, "I was getting bored of plain grey."
"Funny," she said dryly. He leant on the door.
"What is it? Have you set something other than my door on fire?" he asked.
"No," she said, looking displeased at his assumption she'd been involved in any wrongdoings, "I want to go out."
"Well, you're married, and I have a girlfriend," he shrugged.
"And you're a cocky twat."
"I do my best." Martha scowled at him for a moment.
"I want to go out, so you have to come too because you didn't find any hidden adrenaline inhibitors last night, and Jack's still trying to decript the short hand on the blueprints," she said.
"Out where? I'm busy."
"Doing what? Getting into bidding wars over nerd memorabilia?" Martha challenged, and he faltered for a moment, "Oh my god, seriously!?"
"The Doctor broke one of his wife's lightsabers and he's making me buy a replacement because it's apparently my fault because it was the one I was holding that broke," he tried (pathetically) to defend himself.
"Why were you having... Sorry, you were honestly having a lightsaber fight with the Eleventh Doctor?" she questioned.
"It was his idea! And now I have to spend money to buy a new one of the damn things," Adam complained, "And it has to be identical. And she doesn't have the box in there. Do you know how many generations of replica lightsabers there have been from the last forty years?"
"No, and I don't want to. I do want to go out though, which means you have to come too," she said.
"...With who?" he asked carefully.
"With some people."
"The TARDIS has a lot of people on it, Martha," he said, and he was entirely aware she thought he was a dick. Everyone seemed to think that about him.
"...The Ninth Doctor-"
"Oh, no. I am not going anywhere with him," Adam protested.
"-And River-"
"You want me to go hang around with the person who basically cut off my girlfriend's leg for a joke?"
"-And Mickey and Donna."
"No! I'm tired enough after yesterday."
"Either you come out, or I'll convince Clara it's all your fault about the lightsaber," Martha said, "And I'll make Jenny mad at you. I don't know how yet, but I will..."
"Blackmail. Great. Great. And I get nothing out of this," he grumbled, going to find his shoes, "Are you sure you even should be going out? You could set someone on fire. And we don't even know what your other power is yet."
"Well what's your other power?" Martha asked him.
"...Mine?" She nodded, as he looked around for a jacket, "Er, I don't know. I mean, it's... Ironic. I think I see auras? Or, emotions? I don't have a lot of experience with it. Plus, I got the adrenaline inhibitor before I got the colourblind glasses, so I can't even be sure who was what colour, or even what any of them mean. Are we going?" He walked past her, closing the door so that Martha didn't melt it or something. She followed him. "As if making me replace the lightsaber wasn't enough, he broke my phone too."
"So buy a new one," Martha said, having no pity for him and his broken phone, clearly, "Buy me one too, while you're at it."
"Living here's gonna make me bloody bankrupt..." he complained.
"Oh great, bring the idiot along why don't you?" Nine snapped at Martha when she brought Adam into the console room.
"Look what the cat dragged in," River trilled nearby. Nine ignored her comment, busy glaring at Martha.
"What? He's the only way I won't burn stuff, get over it," Martha said to Nine. She went to stand with Mickey, who was watching Nine with an expression Adam Mitchell couldn't place. Adam himself just stayed still, trying to keep in good spirits, even though he seemed to be having a thoroughly bad day.
"Could be worse," Donna said quietly, coming over to him, "You could be on Rose-duty, like Amy. Or Ten-duty, like Jenny. Keeping them apart."
"No, instead I'm with the leg-amputators. What fun," he muttered, then, "...Hey, can I borrow your phone? I have to text the leg-amputee and tell her her brother-in-law broke my mobile."
AN: FYI, I'm gonna refrain from Adam Mitchell's perspective as much as possible. I really didn't want to write it, but it works best with what was in my head and I didn't want to translate it to Martha.
