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builtofsorrowtitle: Ginger Stalking
characters: Ten, Martha, & the Weasleys (of sorts).
rating: G
words: ~1,800
spoilers: None, really.
notes: Just a little something Ten & Marthadid might've done whilst stranded in 1969; that is to say, the crackiest of crack fics.
Originally posted at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kyra_love.
----
'Doctor, you do realise it's fiction, don't you? I mean, there isn't really a Harry Potter running about.'
'Well, no, of course there isn't, Martha Jones, it's 1969. Harry Potter isn't going to be born for another eleven years.'
'Oh, yes, of course, silly me,' Martha mutters, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
All her resolve evaporates, however, when the Doctor actually pats her on the head, saying, ''S quite all right; humans have a difficult time of it wrapping their minds around this stuff sometimes.'
'Stuff here being the separation of fiction from reality?' Martha snaps, shooting him a somewhat resentful glare.
'Hmm,' the Doctor replies, shoving his hands in his coat pockets, and tilting his head back so that it's resting slightly on the wall they've been leaning against. 'In a sense, yes, but there's where human assumption enters and causes all sorts of problems. Like how everyone assumes time is a strict progression of cause to effect-'
'Blah blah blah, wibbley wobbley, timey wimey,' Martha interrupts, laughing a bit helplessly, though there's a note of frustration in her voice. 'Rather than the lecture on that, can we talk again about why we're out here in the dark looking for Harry Potter?'
The Doctor gives her a look that makes it very clear that he's purposefully ignoring her error, and simply says, 'Because we're stuck in 1969, as you know, and I still haven't finished my machine thingy, really must think up a name for it, really really, would probably help in finishing, actually, and I need a bit of a break for inspiration, perhaps, and also we're in 1969, Martha Jones, and do you know what happened in 1969?'
'Demise of the halfpenny? First episode of Monty Python aired? The moon landing?'
The Doctor rolls his eyes. 'And you call yourself a fan of JK.'
'I know she turns four years old in 1969. I hardly think we're going to find her out here though, Doctor. For one thing, she didn't grow up near here, and for another, most four-year-olds are in bed by now.'
'Well then, didn't mark you out as a stalker type of fan, actually.'
'I like Wikipedia. What happens in 1969 that brings us on this quest?'
'The Weasleys, of course!'
'The Weasleys.'
'Right-o, Almost-Dr-Jones. A whole family of ginger people; isn't that splendid? Of course there are only two for now, as this is the year the Weasleys became the Weasleys, if you catch my meaning, and if I've done my calculations correctly, which I obviously have, we should be able to meet them, if we don't frighten them out of their wits, of course, so do be careful, Martha, wouldn't want them running off, you know, and of course they're not really the Weasleys, so mind you don't call them that.'
'Not really the Weasleys.'
'Of course not, she had to change their names, now didn't she? Otherwise all the Muggles would know exactly who the real Harry Potter is and there'd be all this breaking of confidentiality blahbiddyblah, and you lot would go mad if you knew it was all actually real, and really, who wants that?'
'Change... their names. Actually real.'
'You do realise that I know what I'm saying? You needn't repeat it for my benefit.'
Martha simply stares at him blankly.
-----
'I don't see why we couldn't have taken brooms or the Floo or Apparated like decent people!' The harsh whisper fills the night air, and Martha looks up at the Doctor just in time to see the expression on his face turn to one of sheer glee.
'They're just down-' Martha begins in a whisper, pointing in the direction of a car parked down the street a bit and the two people standing on the sidewalk near it.
'Shshshh,' the Doctor replies, putting a finger to his lips. 'We have to be careful. Casual. Very casual. Follow my lead.' Shoving both hands in his coat pockets again, the Doctor walks down the street toward the couple they've been waiting for in a manner that can only be described as I'm Trying Very Hard to Make it Look Like I'm Being Casual. And Failing.
'This cannot end well,' Martha mutters, following his lead almost in spite of herself (though she comforts herself with the thought that she isn't trying to be casual and therefore doesn't look nearly as ridiculous).
'Hello there!' the Doctor greets the couple, who, Martha notes, actually are ginger, which at least makes it quite probable she and the Doctor are frightening the proper set of people. 'How are you two on this fine evening?'
The couple are looking at them warily, and Martha gives them a small, awkward wave, accompanied by what she hopes is a comforting smile.
'Do we know you?' the ginger man asks, finally, having stepped in front of the woman he's with in a somewhat protective stance, hand in one coat pocket, assumedly grasping his wand. With the look the woman is giving them, however, Martha actually finds her a more formidable prospect than the man, wand or no.
The Doctor seems unaffected by the woman's glare, however, and merely rocks back on his heels, grinning widely as he says, 'Nope! Don't think so, at any rate; Martha and I are just out for a casual stroll here. Thought it only polite to say hello!'
'Well hello then, and goodbye!' the woman snaps, turning the full force of her glare onto the Doctor, and Martha has to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.
'Now Polly, dear,' the man says, soothingly, 'they're just being friendly.'
'Doesn't make them trustworthy, Arnie,' Polly hisses, in a perfectly audible whisper.
'Doesn't mean they're working for Him, either,' Arnie mutters, and Martha wonders if the TARDIS improves one's hearing, because surely Arnie and Polly (and here, she stops off to think that if this is any indication, the Doctor's 'good old JK' did not do a splendidly creative job of disguising the names of the real people involved in the events of her books) do not actually want her and the Doctor to hear their conversation.
'Indeed it doesn't!' the Doctor cuts in cheerfully. 'And in fact we don't work for Him at all, never even met Him, totally independent agents here.'
'Smooth and convincing,' Martha murmurs. The Doctor's grin, if possible, gets wider.
'Exactly what someone working for Him would say,' Polly replies.
'Or someone who doesn't know what you're talking about,' Martha feels the need to point out, if only because Polly's glaring at the Doctor again, and as much as Martha deems this slightly ridiculous situation primarily the Doctor's fault, it's probably actually unhealthy to be subjected to a glare like that for too long.
All three of the others turn toward Martha, faces full of surprise, and finally the Doctor says, 'Of course we know who they're talking about, Martha. The Dark Lord.' Looking back to Arnie and Polly, the Doctor shrugs, saying, 'She's a Muggle.'
'You are too!' Martha says, somewhat defensively.
'Am not. Muggles are human.'
'What are you, then?' Arnie cuts in.
Martha shakes her head in despair as she looks up at the Doctor, saying, 'Yes, this was obviously the time to mention the non-human bit.'
-----
Ten minutes later, Polly and Martha are exchanging sympathetic glances as Arnie and the Doctor go on about Time Lords and the Magical world. Much to the Doctor's delight, there are apparently legends about Time Lords passed down through Wizarding generations, primarily concerning one particular Time Lord who had actually helped to formulate certain charms still in use. Martha figures at least half of the Doctor's delight is based in the fact that the legendary Time Lord possessed certain, familiar personality traits, but she also figures now is not the time to bring that up.
Polly finally cuts the two men off, saying, 'Arnie, dear, we really do have somewhere we need to be.' Once she'd decided the Doctor and Martha were trustworthy, her demeanour had become much friendlier, but Martha can still hear the slight note of annoyance in the other woman's voice.
'You're right, Polly dear,' Arnie replies, wrapping his arm about her, and looking at the Doctor with a slightly apologetic look. His face lights up with a grin, however, when he says, 'Tonight's the night Polly here becomes a proper Minkley.'
'Minkley?' Martha echoes.
'He's Arnold Minkley. We're getting married,' Polly elaborates, misunderstanding Martha's confusion.
'Lovely! Splendid!' the Doctor bursts forth. 'Isn't it, Martha? Congratulations to the both of you!'
'It's perfectly splendid,' Martha says with a smile, slightly amused by the Doctor's unabashed excitement. 'All the best.' She notices Polly nudging Arnie pointedly, and looks at him curiously.
'There is-' Arnie says, awkwardly, 'there is one thing with which we could use your help. If you don't mind.'
'Anything!' the Doctor says enthusiastically.
'Well, we're eloping, see, and we -- I -- wanted to make it slightly unconventional -- for our kind, mind you -- in order to not attract too much attention, so I borrowed this automobile here, and-'
'And I'd rather not die on the way to my wedding,' Polly interrupts. 'Would either of you mind driving us to the train station?'
-----
'Well then,' the Doctor says, still waving at the departing train. 'That's the Minkleys off to their happily married existence.'
Martha smiles up at him, wrapping an arm about his waist. 'Thank you.'
'For what?' he asks, looking down at her.
'Getting me out of the flat, making me get my mind off things. Taking me celebrity stalking.'
A glint of offended horror enters the Doctor's eyes as he steps away from her and says, 'That was not celebrity stalking. That was -- meeting new friends.'
'Friends who are quite famous in the future,' Martha teases.
'As you note: the future. And we should get back to the flat. I have work to do.'
'Changing the subject,' Martha can't resist continuing in a sing-song voice, though she follows the Doctor as he turns about, and they both walk toward the station exit.
'People don't count as celebrities until they are celebrities,' the Doctor replies, firmly.
Martha grins. 'I think that's a rather linear view, don't you?'
He looks down at her warily.
'See,' Martha begins, 'from a non-linear, non-subjective, wibbley wobbley, timey wimey viewpoint-'
There's a look of sheer consternation on the Doctor's face, and she can't help but dissolve into helpless laughter. 'C'mon, Doctor,' she says, relenting for the moment and taking his hand. 'Let's go home.'
-----
characters: Ten, Martha, & the Weasleys (of sorts).
rating: G
words: ~1,800
spoilers: None, really.
notes: Just a little something Ten & Martha
Originally posted at
kyra_love.----
'Doctor, you do realise it's fiction, don't you? I mean, there isn't really a Harry Potter running about.'
'Well, no, of course there isn't, Martha Jones, it's 1969. Harry Potter isn't going to be born for another eleven years.'
'Oh, yes, of course, silly me,' Martha mutters, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
All her resolve evaporates, however, when the Doctor actually pats her on the head, saying, ''S quite all right; humans have a difficult time of it wrapping their minds around this stuff sometimes.'
'Stuff here being the separation of fiction from reality?' Martha snaps, shooting him a somewhat resentful glare.
'Hmm,' the Doctor replies, shoving his hands in his coat pockets, and tilting his head back so that it's resting slightly on the wall they've been leaning against. 'In a sense, yes, but there's where human assumption enters and causes all sorts of problems. Like how everyone assumes time is a strict progression of cause to effect-'
'Blah blah blah, wibbley wobbley, timey wimey,' Martha interrupts, laughing a bit helplessly, though there's a note of frustration in her voice. 'Rather than the lecture on that, can we talk again about why we're out here in the dark looking for Harry Potter?'
The Doctor gives her a look that makes it very clear that he's purposefully ignoring her error, and simply says, 'Because we're stuck in 1969, as you know, and I still haven't finished my machine thingy, really must think up a name for it, really really, would probably help in finishing, actually, and I need a bit of a break for inspiration, perhaps, and also we're in 1969, Martha Jones, and do you know what happened in 1969?'
'Demise of the halfpenny? First episode of Monty Python aired? The moon landing?'
The Doctor rolls his eyes. 'And you call yourself a fan of JK.'
'I know she turns four years old in 1969. I hardly think we're going to find her out here though, Doctor. For one thing, she didn't grow up near here, and for another, most four-year-olds are in bed by now.'
'Well then, didn't mark you out as a stalker type of fan, actually.'
'I like Wikipedia. What happens in 1969 that brings us on this quest?'
'The Weasleys, of course!'
'The Weasleys.'
'Right-o, Almost-Dr-Jones. A whole family of ginger people; isn't that splendid? Of course there are only two for now, as this is the year the Weasleys became the Weasleys, if you catch my meaning, and if I've done my calculations correctly, which I obviously have, we should be able to meet them, if we don't frighten them out of their wits, of course, so do be careful, Martha, wouldn't want them running off, you know, and of course they're not really the Weasleys, so mind you don't call them that.'
'Not really the Weasleys.'
'Of course not, she had to change their names, now didn't she? Otherwise all the Muggles would know exactly who the real Harry Potter is and there'd be all this breaking of confidentiality blahbiddyblah, and you lot would go mad if you knew it was all actually real, and really, who wants that?'
'Change... their names. Actually real.'
'You do realise that I know what I'm saying? You needn't repeat it for my benefit.'
Martha simply stares at him blankly.
-----
'I don't see why we couldn't have taken brooms or the Floo or Apparated like decent people!' The harsh whisper fills the night air, and Martha looks up at the Doctor just in time to see the expression on his face turn to one of sheer glee.
'They're just down-' Martha begins in a whisper, pointing in the direction of a car parked down the street a bit and the two people standing on the sidewalk near it.
'Shshshh,' the Doctor replies, putting a finger to his lips. 'We have to be careful. Casual. Very casual. Follow my lead.' Shoving both hands in his coat pockets again, the Doctor walks down the street toward the couple they've been waiting for in a manner that can only be described as I'm Trying Very Hard to Make it Look Like I'm Being Casual. And Failing.
'This cannot end well,' Martha mutters, following his lead almost in spite of herself (though she comforts herself with the thought that she isn't trying to be casual and therefore doesn't look nearly as ridiculous).
'Hello there!' the Doctor greets the couple, who, Martha notes, actually are ginger, which at least makes it quite probable she and the Doctor are frightening the proper set of people. 'How are you two on this fine evening?'
The couple are looking at them warily, and Martha gives them a small, awkward wave, accompanied by what she hopes is a comforting smile.
'Do we know you?' the ginger man asks, finally, having stepped in front of the woman he's with in a somewhat protective stance, hand in one coat pocket, assumedly grasping his wand. With the look the woman is giving them, however, Martha actually finds her a more formidable prospect than the man, wand or no.
The Doctor seems unaffected by the woman's glare, however, and merely rocks back on his heels, grinning widely as he says, 'Nope! Don't think so, at any rate; Martha and I are just out for a casual stroll here. Thought it only polite to say hello!'
'Well hello then, and goodbye!' the woman snaps, turning the full force of her glare onto the Doctor, and Martha has to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.
'Now Polly, dear,' the man says, soothingly, 'they're just being friendly.'
'Doesn't make them trustworthy, Arnie,' Polly hisses, in a perfectly audible whisper.
'Doesn't mean they're working for Him, either,' Arnie mutters, and Martha wonders if the TARDIS improves one's hearing, because surely Arnie and Polly (and here, she stops off to think that if this is any indication, the Doctor's 'good old JK' did not do a splendidly creative job of disguising the names of the real people involved in the events of her books) do not actually want her and the Doctor to hear their conversation.
'Indeed it doesn't!' the Doctor cuts in cheerfully. 'And in fact we don't work for Him at all, never even met Him, totally independent agents here.'
'Smooth and convincing,' Martha murmurs. The Doctor's grin, if possible, gets wider.
'Exactly what someone working for Him would say,' Polly replies.
'Or someone who doesn't know what you're talking about,' Martha feels the need to point out, if only because Polly's glaring at the Doctor again, and as much as Martha deems this slightly ridiculous situation primarily the Doctor's fault, it's probably actually unhealthy to be subjected to a glare like that for too long.
All three of the others turn toward Martha, faces full of surprise, and finally the Doctor says, 'Of course we know who they're talking about, Martha. The Dark Lord.' Looking back to Arnie and Polly, the Doctor shrugs, saying, 'She's a Muggle.'
'You are too!' Martha says, somewhat defensively.
'Am not. Muggles are human.'
'What are you, then?' Arnie cuts in.
Martha shakes her head in despair as she looks up at the Doctor, saying, 'Yes, this was obviously the time to mention the non-human bit.'
-----
Ten minutes later, Polly and Martha are exchanging sympathetic glances as Arnie and the Doctor go on about Time Lords and the Magical world. Much to the Doctor's delight, there are apparently legends about Time Lords passed down through Wizarding generations, primarily concerning one particular Time Lord who had actually helped to formulate certain charms still in use. Martha figures at least half of the Doctor's delight is based in the fact that the legendary Time Lord possessed certain, familiar personality traits, but she also figures now is not the time to bring that up.
Polly finally cuts the two men off, saying, 'Arnie, dear, we really do have somewhere we need to be.' Once she'd decided the Doctor and Martha were trustworthy, her demeanour had become much friendlier, but Martha can still hear the slight note of annoyance in the other woman's voice.
'You're right, Polly dear,' Arnie replies, wrapping his arm about her, and looking at the Doctor with a slightly apologetic look. His face lights up with a grin, however, when he says, 'Tonight's the night Polly here becomes a proper Minkley.'
'Minkley?' Martha echoes.
'He's Arnold Minkley. We're getting married,' Polly elaborates, misunderstanding Martha's confusion.
'Lovely! Splendid!' the Doctor bursts forth. 'Isn't it, Martha? Congratulations to the both of you!'
'It's perfectly splendid,' Martha says with a smile, slightly amused by the Doctor's unabashed excitement. 'All the best.' She notices Polly nudging Arnie pointedly, and looks at him curiously.
'There is-' Arnie says, awkwardly, 'there is one thing with which we could use your help. If you don't mind.'
'Anything!' the Doctor says enthusiastically.
'Well, we're eloping, see, and we -- I -- wanted to make it slightly unconventional -- for our kind, mind you -- in order to not attract too much attention, so I borrowed this automobile here, and-'
'And I'd rather not die on the way to my wedding,' Polly interrupts. 'Would either of you mind driving us to the train station?'
-----
'Well then,' the Doctor says, still waving at the departing train. 'That's the Minkleys off to their happily married existence.'
Martha smiles up at him, wrapping an arm about his waist. 'Thank you.'
'For what?' he asks, looking down at her.
'Getting me out of the flat, making me get my mind off things. Taking me celebrity stalking.'
A glint of offended horror enters the Doctor's eyes as he steps away from her and says, 'That was not celebrity stalking. That was -- meeting new friends.'
'Friends who are quite famous in the future,' Martha teases.
'As you note: the future. And we should get back to the flat. I have work to do.'
'Changing the subject,' Martha can't resist continuing in a sing-song voice, though she follows the Doctor as he turns about, and they both walk toward the station exit.
'People don't count as celebrities until they are celebrities,' the Doctor replies, firmly.
Martha grins. 'I think that's a rather linear view, don't you?'
He looks down at her warily.
'See,' Martha begins, 'from a non-linear, non-subjective, wibbley wobbley, timey wimey viewpoint-'
There's a look of sheer consternation on the Doctor's face, and she can't help but dissolve into helpless laughter. 'C'mon, Doctor,' she says, relenting for the moment and taking his hand. 'Let's go home.'
-----
no subject
Date: 2007-12-23 04:57 am (UTC)WEASLEYSMINKLEYS ALHLGHG WIN.This is the best kind of crack ever.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-24 11:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-23 07:27 pm (UTC)WeasleysMinkleys are spot on, and it's brilliant. ♥no subject
Date: 2007-12-24 11:29 am (UTC)Anyway.
Thank you! I'm happy people like it. (Obv.) Weirdly, I kind of want the Minkleys to actually exist. :P
no subject
Date: 2009-01-06 07:22 pm (UTC)ArthurArnie geeking out about stuff (of course a certain Time Lord inspired certain charms, especially the whole bigger-on-the-inside thing), and "it's probably actually unhealthy to be subjected to a glare like that for too long," and the Doctor is such a dork and Martha's taking such glee in teasing him about it and this is just so awesome and adorable and...yes. The very very best kind of crack.