Of Doctors, Aliens, and Music
By: RavenHeart101
Disclaimer: If I owned Doctor Who I'd be older. If I owned Torchwood I'd be richer. And if I owned Glee I wouldn't be on here. If I owned (or was a part of) Simple Plan I would... suddenly have switched genders.
Summary: Torchwood may be practically dead, but that doesn't mean that the aliens have stopped their descent on Earth. Jack's hiding in a small Ohio town, working at a local garage. The Doctor's randomly transported to a boarding school. Kurt's trying to get through his sophomore year of high school. Blaine's trying to get used to Dalton. Santana's trying to sort out her feelings. Brittany's trying to understand life. And then something goes wrong and they are forced to come together to figure out how to fix it. Somethings may be more permanent than others.
A: N – Yay for four reviews! After getting seven for the first chapter only four is slightly depressing. But better than nothing, ne? Thanks the people who reviewed!
"...I've got no place to go
I've got no where to run
They love to watch me fall
They think they know it all..."
Kurt pushed the door leading into his house open with a small smile. Glee club had managed to avoid being dismantled yet again and him and his father had made up the day before. He discreetly wiped his hands on his pants, wincing when the left over grease from the oil that he had just put in his car rubbed onto the denim. He raised an eyebrow at the quiet that had enveloped the Hummel house. Not that it was usually loud, it was usually quiet it just being him and his father, but the television was usually on. It wasn't on this time.
Sounds that seemed suspiciously like frustrated mutterings fluttered into the room. Kurt couldn't make out what they were saying, but he knew that it was his father's voice. Curiosity began to overwhelm him as he pulled himself out of the hallway and into the living room. No one was there, but the cabinets and cushions were pulled out and opened. DVD cases were open and the discs were smashed on the rug covered ground. The television was haphazardly leaning against the wall behind it, precariously perched on it's edge and close to falling over. "Dad?" Kurt croaked, clearing his throat when it came out impossibly small. "Dad?" He called again. The mutterings ceased and the hair on the back of Kurt's neck stood up on end. "Dad? Are you okay?"
There was a grunt of acknowledgment as Kurt neared the kitchen. It was dark inside, which didn't correspond well with the bright weather outside at all. He shivered, suddenly wishing that he kept on his jacket. "Are you okay?" Kurt braved speaking again, he shuddered at the vacant look in his father's familiar sea green eyes.
"What's your name?" Kurt stumbled back at the abruptness of the question, at the harshness that invaded the voice that had always been kind to him.
He swallowed. "Dad... It's me. It's Kurt-"
"What is your name you petulant waste of space!" He visually snapped back at his father's inhumane growl. His brain was scattered, working for a way to successfully understand what was going on.
His father – was it really his father? He didn't seem like the Burt Hummel that Kurt had grown up around - sent an unlikely sneer of anger and frustration in his direction. He stuttered back a few steps until his back was to the living room. "Da-Kurt." He hastily said as the man growled at him. "Kurt Hummel. Your son-"
"I have no son. And I want you out of my house." Shocked silence. His brain was frozen in shock. Did... was this really happening?
"Dad..." His voice shook.
"I said. Get. Out." Burt – this wasn't his father anymore – loomed over him as Kurt's back pressed into the back of the couch.
Tears prickled at his eyes as his throat clenched and unclenched in an effort to keep from sobbing out loudly. "Th-this is my house dad."
"Who is that?" The man had the decency to look confused for a moment.
Kurt's blue eyes stayed wide as he stared up at his father. Maybe his father was pulling a joke on him... maybe this was all just one horrible – sincerely cruel – joke. For the first time in a long time the boy found himself unconsciously praying for help. "What?"
Burt looked around himself in alarm, and he took quick steps away from Kurt, his sea green eyes wide with angry fear. "Where am I?" He grunted out. "Who are you? Where's my wife?"
"What...? Dad this isn't funny-!" A fist slammed into his forehead with remarkable strength. Kurt snapped back, his body almost flinging itself over the couch he had been cowering against. Tears leaked out of his eyes as Burt's angry body loomed over his.
"Where is she? Where is my wife? What have you done to her?" Had his father been drinking? But that made no sense! Burt had drank before (had even been drunk before) around Kurt and he had never acted like this. His father was a funny drunk. He was one of those guys who would be smiling the whole time and laughing when he fell down the stairs. This wasn't his father. This wasn't the kind bighearted man that Kurt had run to when there were thunderstorms when he was younger, this wasn't the man that held him in his large, warm embrace when his mother died, and this was not the man that silently offered him comfort before Kurt had even told him that he was gay. "If she's dead this is your fault!" He ran out of the house, anger remarkably covering his face more than Kurt had ever seen it.
He swallowed the will to stay on the floor of the house, pushing himself up and after his father. "Dad!"
"I don't know who you are!" Burt pushed him back roughly, something a kin to accomplishment overwhelming his face as his son fell back into the house, his arm slamming against the door frame. "This is all your fault!" It's not your fault, kiddo. Don't let anyone tell you that it is. "If she's dead than it's all your fault!" He stared vacantly as his father ran down the street, his gray work shirt flitting around the muscles in his back. A few curious neighbors stuck their heads out of their windows but Kurt couldn't bring himself to pay them any mind until the police and ambulance officials made themselves known by the obnoxious blue and red flashing lights. The sirens seemed far off even when they were right in front of him. His eyes stared with no emotion as his brain tried to work out exactly what was going on. But there was nothing. There was absolutely nothing. The only thing he could come up with was that the man that had run down the street wasn't his father.
"You okay, son?" A gruff voice asked from his left. Kurt flinched back as the man leaned closer, his golden police badge causing a headache to painfully strike in his head. "What's his name?"
"Kurt." He didn't pay attention to who was talking, but he recognized the voice as the woman who lived across the street. He didn't know why she had bothered to answer, she never liked him even since he chewed out her children on their horrible treatment of their animals. "Kurt Hummel."
"Kurt? Kurt can you hear me?" That wasn't his father. "Kurt? I think he's in shock." No... not shock. He was just... shocked? Okay so maybe he was in shock. But he wasn't stupid enough to not know what they were saying. "Okay son." He wasn't their son, so it would do them some good to stop calling him that. A bright light shone in his eyes, glinting against the police badge and shinning into his eyes even harsher than before. He jerked his head away from the light and into someone's firm chest behind him. "Hey there. Can you hear me Kurt?"
He nodded slowly, tearing his eyes away from the man's badge and looking up into his face. It wasn't a kind face, then again Kurt wasn't sure if he would be able to see anyone's face as a kind face after what his father - after what that thing who was definitely not his father did to him. "Can you tell me what happened?" He asked softly, trying to make his voice as kind and gentle as it could go.
"That wasn't my father."
"What do you mean son?"
"That wasn't him." He knew he was talking fast, so he tried to slow himself down. Tried to calm himself down as his hand shakily wiped across his cheek, his tender flesh screaming under his hand. "It wasn't my dad."
"So..." The Doctor opened his arms wide, his face splitting into a wide smile. His hair fell haphazardly into his eyes as he eagerly looked over at Blaine as the blonde girl – Rose – kicked her feet from her seat on the... computer console glowing thing. "What do you think? Cool, eh?"
He wouldn't say cool. To be honest, Blaine wasn't so sure that this wasn't a dream. All of this was so... certifiably insane. Even for him. Subtly, his fingers pinched his arm. He flinched violently when the pain flared, yet he stayed in the old blue police box that was bigger on the inside than the outside. "Wh-where am I?" He stuttered out, blinking almost tiredly as the Doctor twirled around him.
"The TARDIS."
"The tar-"
"Stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space." Blaine blinked and Rose seemed to take pity on him. She jumped off the computer console thing and trotted over to him with a wide smile.
"It's a space ship." She said easily, hoping to ease some of his confusion.
He pinched himself again, willing himself to wake up as the insanity continued. This could not be happening. "A space ship... Okay..." He muttered, his brain racing to make sense of anything that was going on. Blaine heaved in a deep breath, ignoring how his body swayed a bit from unexcused dizziness. He could deal with this. This surly wasn't the weirdest thing to happen to him. His history teacher had just ingested some black cloud and had glowing yellow eyes. If he wasn't absolutely certain that it was a television show, Blaine would be more apt to believe that he was in Supernatural and was about to be pinned to the roof of his house and attacked by fire. Although he didn't have a six month old child so that wouldn't work at all.
"Are you okay?" Rose's voice was concerned as he fell back heavily against the police box's wall and slid down it heavily. He threw his head into his knees, hysterical laughter bubbling up his throat and pushing its way passed his trembling, chapped lips.
"Not okay." The Doctor said helpfully.
"Freaking out, to be honest." He replied with another bubble of laughter.
"I think you're the first person to do that." The Doctor paused, taking in Rose's incredulous look. "Well the first person to do it so... obviously."
Rose rolled her eyes at him, a happy smile tugging at her lips before she turned back to Blaine, her eyes concerned. "Don't worry. We'll take care of you."
That was an incredibly awkward thing to say but Blaine figured he should probably just roll with whatever was happening anyway. It wasn't as though any of it was real. He would wake up in a few hours and be in the Dalton regulation bed and David would chastise him lightly about missing class and then go off to Warblers practice and Blaine would finish his history essay. That's what would happen. That's what would have to happen. He wouldn't settle for anything else. He cleared his throat. "So... we're in a space ship?"
The Doctor visibly brightened, a happy glint overtaking his features. "A Time and Relative Dimensions in Space machine."
Blaine blinked in confusion. "So it's a time machine?"
"A Time and Relative Dimensions in Space machine."
"A time and space machine...?" He looked at Rose for confirmation, looking at her with gratefulness as she nodded lightly.
"It's a lot to take in." She patted his arm lightly before pushing herself up to a standing position and walking over to the Doctor. "Where to, Doctor?"
His smile never left his face. Blaine wondered for a moment if the guy was on some type of drugs before reminding himself that he was in the middle of some weird dream and he was rolling with it. Whether it made sense or not. "Well we have to get Blair here to safety before we can exterminate those nasty Grimers. Horrible little bug creatures that suck all of the sodium out of their hosts and then create their own body from it." He said as a sort of explanation to the teenager still sitting, stunned, on the floor. "So... any place you really want to go to?"
"Blaine." He corrected shortly.
"What?" The Doctor turned around to look at him in confusion.
"My name's Blaine. Not Blair..."
"Oh... could have sworn it was Blair." The Doctor shrugged, smiling at Rose brightly before turning back to the console. "So, Blake, where do you want to go?"
"Sanity Central." He muttered back, glaring at the man as he pranced around the large area. Rose laughed. He wasn't sure if it was because of him or because of the Doctor, but he really wasn't sure if he cared. "My name is Blaine." He stressed, ignoring Rose's amused look.
He had had enough of the whole "name forgetting" at Westerville High. He didn't need someone like The Doctor to screw with him too. "Oh course, Blaine. Isn't that what I said?" The Doctor looked genuinely confused for a moment before he turned back into his chipper self. "So... where do you want to go?"
He sighed, leaning back on his elbows, his legs stretching out in front of him. "Home." He whispered, staring vacantly up at the ceiling above him. He ignored Rose's frown and the look in the Doctor's eyes. He wasn't damaged. He didn't need their pity.
"Home it is then." A few cranks and whirs and the entire "ship" shook. Blaine blinked up at the roof, willing his stomach to stop churning. The Doctor let out a strangled noise from the back of his throat and ran around to the other side of the "ship" before stopping back in front of the console, something that looked suspiciously like a screwdriver glowing in his hand as he muttered quickly. "Oh no." His voice held a panicked resignation that Blaine was only too familiar with from his own times from high school. "That's not good."
"What's not good Doctor?" Rose's accented voice asked with a tinge of worry. She smiled at him reassuringly when the Doctor made no motion to answer, instead opting to run around the place like a maniac with a glowing screwdriver. "Happens all the time." And how that was supposed to make him feel better was beyond him. Blaine pushed himself up with a trembling hand, reaching out to smooth down his crisp white shirt. The Doctor stopped and stared at him.
"What?" He asked uneasily as the man's eyes surveyed him for a long moment.
He shook his head, breaking himself out of his stupor for a moment before he looked back down at the flashing console. "Well... I couldn't get you home, but I did get you away from the Grimers." He said with an overly cheery voice. Blaine frowned, wringing his hands as Rose looked over the Doctor's shoulder in curiosity.
"Lima?" She asked in confusion. "Where's Lima?"
"Ohio." The Doctor said simply.
Lima, Ohio. Nearly two hours away from Westerville, Ohio and a world away from Dalton Academy for Boys. Blaine had only been there once before, when his father was running for Senator (which he got) and he had been mortified by the amount of times he had heard insults thrown casually around the small town. It wasn't as though the same insults hadn't been thrown around Westerville, but, for some reason, the ones in Lima were thrown not as casual; the insults seemed forced. Almost as though the people saying them were trying to prove that they could say them. He broke himself out of his reverie. "Why Lima?" Rose was asking and the Doctor shrugged helplessly.
"She couldn't bring us any farther it seems." Or closer, Blaine felt like pointing out. He was pretty sure he lived only twenty minutes away from Dalton on a bad day. "I don't know why..." The Doctor trailed off, worry covering both faces of the elder people in the machine. In a moment that worry was gone though, replaced with the ever present smile that Blaine was quick to realize was a mask of some sort. Something that was hopefully dazzling enough to not have him ask questions. He frowned, huddling closer to himself, his arms crossing protectively over his chest. "Well! Let's see where we are, eh?"
He strolled over to the door, pushing it open with a bright smile. "Doctor?" Blaine blinked. In front of them stood an auto shop, a tall (handsome... really, really handsome) man staring at them in shock. Another, younger, teenage boy stood behind him, fear clouding his red rimmed blue eyes. A stunning blue that almost knocked Blaine off his feet. He was shaking as he wiped a hand under his eyes, gripping the other man's sleeve tightly.
"Jack?" The Doctor's voice held something close to happiness and apprehensiveness. Rose squealed at the familiar name, her eyes wide in joy.
"Jack!" She threw herself out of the TARDIS, jumping on the man in a large hug. He caught her – just barely – stumbling backwards a tiny bit, his foot falling back to catch himself, the teenage boy behind him moving off to the side a freaked out look covering his angelic face.
Blaine was content standing where he was, but the Doctor insisted on him coming out, tugging insistingly on his sleeve until he had fully exited the police box. Which he was still trying to make sense of. His head started spinning the moment his foot hit the concrete floor in the garage. He stumbled, his face flushing. Black spots began to cloud over his vision. "Whoa there." The American, male voice said from somewhere to his right, a hand clamping over his arm. "Kurt, get him some water." Kurt? Who was Kurt? Blaine raised his head from where it was slumped against his knees and gazed around the room, watching with hooded eyes as the angelic boy stared at him with wide eyes. "Kurt!" The handsome American – Jack – snapped. The boy blinked and scrambled into action, and, promptly, Blaine's world turned dark.
If Kurt was to be completely honest he wouldn't have been able to tell anyone why he had gone to Jack of all people for help in this situation. He wouldn't have been able to explain to anyone why his father was off besides the rather crippling fact that it wasn't his father. He wouldn't have been able to reassure everyone that, no a random telephone booth did not just randomly appear in his family's garage. He frowned, shoving a cup rather forcefully under to faucet, suddenly grateful that he had convinced his father to fix the pipes a few years back. His father... He drew in a shaky breath, retracing his hand and re-entering the garage with a false sense of determination.
Jack had placed the curly haired boy on the row of chairs located in the waiting area. Kurt – while feeling in his vulnerable state – had, of course, taken the time to observe all three of the new visitors (and their telephone booth) with a numb mind. No way in Gaga did he know what was going on, but he wasn't about to let anything get passed his game face. Or his diva attitude as Mercedes would have pointed out loudly. "You okay there?" For a moment he wondered if Jack was talking to him, only to notice that, no, the curly haired boy (he really needed to do something with that mess) was actually awake, just simply immensely pale. His tan arm was slung over his face, hiding it from the view of everyone in the room. A shaking nod and Jack smiled slightly, patting the boy's arm and leaving him in Kurt's care as he wandered off to talk to the two British "adults".
He stared vacantly at the door leading into his father's office. Burt Hummel, Owner was painted on the glass door in a seemingly mocking manner at the moment. He remembered sitting on his father's desk when he was younger, playing with his Barbie's hair as his father rambled on the phone about something or other. He shook his head as his eyes began to water again, his hand rubbing against them in an effort to quell the tears. He sucked in a shaking breath, turning back to the pale boy laid out on the chairs. "Hi." He said simply, his voice quiet.
The boy's arm muffled his voice a little, but when it came out it sounded pained. "Hi." He croaked out, his arm slowly lowering to reveal bright hazel eyes. Kurt silently handed over the cup of water, wincing as the boy pushed himself up with a level of discomfort.
Kurt bit his lip lightly, the hair wasn't so bad. He actually found himself appreciating it (among other things). He mentally scolded himself. Now was not the time to be checking someone out. "I'm Kurt." He tried to steer the conversation to something he could handle.
The hazel eyes surveyed him, before a small smile tugged at the other boy's lips. "Blaine." Blaine. The name did funny things to his stomach. He found himself letting a small smile tug at his own lips before he realized that he wasn't supposed to be smiling just yet. He picked at his sweater with a frown and shimmering eyes as his throat got choked up as he remembered his father's parting words and actions. "Why are you so sad?" He seemed to regret saying it the moment it passed his lips. The handsome boy (when had he began referring to him as handsome?) blushed a bit, his pale cheeks regaining some color. Laughter almost bubbled up from Kurt's chest before he remembered what exactly had been asked. "I-I mean you-you don't have to tell me. It's just you look really sad and..." He trailed off as Kurt raised any eyebrow at him. "Sorry." He muttered, looking down at the half full cup of water.
He felt some need to reassure the boy – Blaine – that it was okay, that he wasn't angry with him. Even if he did think that it wasn't any of his business exactly why he was sad. But there was this small part of him that wanted to tell him. There was this small part of him that tugged when he looked at him, telling Kurt that he should tell him. That this Blaine boy that he just met would be able to help in some unimaginable way. "My-I..." He closed his eyes, falling into the seat directly across from this Blaine boy and drew in a breath. "My dad... I don't know what happened. But he was fine yesterday – he was perfect really... we were the closest that we had ever been – and today he..." That was the cue for his eyes to start watering again. He tried to blink them away, goodness he had been crying all day long!
A tan hand cautiously placed itself on top of his pale one. Concerned hazel eyes gazed at him, nudging him to carry on. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that, yes, a boy was willingly holding his hand. "He just wasn't himself." He shook his head as a few tears trickled down his cheek. He wanted to reach out and wipe them away, but he found himself physically incapable of removing his hand from under Blaine's tanned one.
"How so?" Blaine asked softly, turning to face Kurt fully on the uncomfortable waiting chairs he had been settled against.
Kurt gazed at him, noticing the faint stubble and the even fainter bruising along his jaw. Make-up. Cover up. Whatever. Kurt had seen it before one too many times on himself. He frowned slightly before answering the stranger's question. "I-I don't know. He... he just... he wasn't him. He wasn't my dad." He breathed in a shuddering breath as he remembered his father's words from earlier. Where is she? Where is my wife? What have you done to her? "It was almost as if he didn't know who I was." A few more tears pulled themselves down his cheeks and he was holding back from outright sobbing in front of this stranger. That just wouldn't be right. He shouldn't just dump these problems on someone he had just met! "And no one believes me!"
"I do." The words were spoken with such assurance and sincerity that Kurt had to raise his eyes to look at the handsome teenager before him. Blaine's mouth was set into a firm line and his hazel eyes held some sort of determination that Kurt had never seen before from anyone but his father at times like when he wasn't allowed to try out for the "Defying Gravity" solo. The boy's hand grasped his tighter as Kurt stared at this anomaly in front of him with wonder. "I believe you, Kurt." Suddenly he felt as though a rather large load had been lifted from his shoulders. A small smile crossed over his face.
Blaine didn't know what made him believe the broken boy in front of him, but Kurt had looked so sad. And he had seemed immensely sincere, and something had told Blaine that the boy in front of him would not be lying to him anytime soon. He smiled back at the boy, noticing how a few choice words caused his face to literally brighten and his shoulders to relax. "What about you?" Kurt's voice may have been higher than he expected but it seemed like music to Blaine's ears.
"What about me?" He asked in confusion. He was happy just staring at the small smile over the other boy's face for the time being.
"Why did you pass out?" Kurt's voice held a tiny teasing edge to it, but, mostly, there was curiosity. And maybe worry. But Blaine wouldn't have expected worry so soon after they had just met.
How could he possibly explain this dream to Kurt? It was confusing enough as it was not thinking about it. "It's bigger inside." He said slowly, his eyes straying to the 1950's style police box.
"What?" Kurt's voice held confusion as his eyes followed Blaine's so that both pairs were trained onto the blue box. "It's a telephone booth... how can it be bigger inside?"
Blaine shrugged slowly. "How can any of this be happening?" He choked out a laugh, hopelessness shining in his voice. The boy in front of him frowned again and his blue eyes sparkled in question at him. "I don't even know what's going on." He leaned his head into his empty hand, exhaustion leaking through every movement he made. The boy who's hand he was currently holding didn't bother saying anything, the silence enough for both of them.
"I'm Diana Lintroe with a breaking news report." The small television in the corner of the garage broke in through the silence the two teenagers had become accustomed to as the "adults" continued to mutter things that the two couldn't make out. "I'm here at Dalton Academy for Boys in Westerville, Ohio where Senator Frank Anderson's son was kidnapped in the middle of the school day." Blaine shot to his feet, his eyes wide as he made his way towards the crinkling television report. A woman stood in front of the familiar image of Dalton Academy gesturing at the school behind her. "Police have released the information that Senator Anderson's son had been seen running through the school hallways accompanied by this man and this woman." A blown up picture of the Doctor and Rose flashed on the screen, blurry as it was due to the speed that it had been taken. He briefly thought about how it must have been taken from one of the school's security cameras before the image changed. "They are urging that any member of the public call them if they have any information on the case." The screen had shifted back to the newsroom where two reporters were looking up at the camera with fake worry.
"The Senator's son is currently sixteen years old." A picture – a picture from last Christmas at his grandmother's house – flashed on the screen. He flushed at the absurdity of the entire situation. Numbly he noticed that the garage had gone completely silent (and that he was still holding Kurt's hand) and that the "adults" had made their way over to him. "Please if anyone has any information..." The rest was tuned out from his mind as he scrambled to make sense of what he had just seen.
"I-is that even possible?" He asked the Doctor in a rushed anger and panic. The man stared at him with wide eyes, shock evident on his face. "I-It hasn't even been an hour..."
"TARDIS." The Doctor said simply in a way of explanation. Rose had a trembling hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and staring at him.
Kurt squeezed his hand (and so what if his mind was still thinking something along the lines of oh-my-goodness-we-are-still-holding-hands!) before taking it out of his grasp. He suddenly felt more out of it than he had been before. "I don't give a shit about your 1950s police box!" He snapped suddenly. Swearing wasn't his thing, but when he got stressed out enough...
"You knew that?" The Doctor asked excitedly, practically bouncing on his heals.
"Listen." Jack, trying to be the voice of reason, spoke up after a moment of tense silence. "This all happened yesterday. That news report about you going missing? You went missing yesterday."
"What?" Blaine snapped. Kurt flinched at the anger in his voice. Something in his stomach churned and he instantly wanted to apologize. But, he was too close to freaking out and the room was starting to spin again and he was pretty sure that he just might pass out again. Which wouldn't be good but he was definitely beginning to feel creeping up on him.
Jack held out his hands in front of him, trying to calm him as though he were trying to calm down a caged animal, but it was Rose who talked. "It's a time machine. Remember?"
A: N- I was going to write more but I kept losing inspiration and I felt bad for not posting this in the first place. So... not much plot in this chapter and no Brittana but they will be in next chapter (once I figure out how to put them into the story). Anyway, did you guys SEE the Somewhere Only We Know performance? It was AWESOME! And it is one of the best birthday presents I have ever gotten! Along with the reviews I will hopefully get. Thank you all so much! 3