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[personal profile] wednesday_whimsy
Title: Doctor Who (or How Sam Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Time Travel)
Author: [ profile] jacqui_hw
Rating: PG (this part)
Summary: Sam Tyler stumbles across the TARDIS and wonders if his life could possibly get any weirder.

When confronted with the fact that everything you thought you knew is in fact wrong, most people tend to go a teensy bit nuts.

Sam Tyler, through his own admission, was already a little bit nuts.

He was also, though he'd never admit it to anyone, a bit of a Doctor Who geek.

Maya had always worn a bemused sort of smile when he'd rattle off facts while they were watching. It wasn't an obsession. Just an interest.

Now, thirty years in the past, it was a comfort to be able to watch it every Saturday night, even if Gene did end up calling him 'Jo' for an entire week.

So stumbling across an actual, honest-to-God Police Box as he was walking home one night was more than he could resist. He walked around it and ran his hands fondly over the blue wood. He took hold of the handle and braced himself, then laughed aloud at his own silliness as he pushed open the door.


Humans, it has to be said, are nothing if not predictable.

The Doctor lay on his back, half buried inside the console terminal. He had two wires caught between his teeth and his hands were flying across the switches and circuits trying to fix something which didn't really need to be fixed. It was that or step outside and 1973 wasn't a year he particularly wanted to visit again.

Well alright it was, but not Manchester, hence the tinkering.

He heard the door open and the startled gasp. He spat out the wires and fused them back together.

"Yes it's bigger inside isn't it? If you're not doing anything would you mind giving me a hand? I need the gold corkscrew-shaped thingy over there." He snapped his fingers and pointed.

'Male', he thought, given the heavier tread of the feet across the floor. 'Good.'


Sam had to remind himself to breathe as he stood just inside the doorway, staring. 'Doctor Who,' he reminded himself, wasn't real. This was just another figment of his imagination. His sub-conscious was trying to tell him something. Maybe he'd fallen asleep at his desk again. As soon as he walked back outside, everything would be fine.

"Yes it's bigger inside isn't it? If you're not doing anything would you mind giving me a hand? I need the gold corkscrew-shaped thingy over there."

He noticed the body lying underneath and half inside the console and took a hesitant step forward. The voice was not one he recognised, though that thought made him bite his lip to stifle a laugh.

'Who are you expecting Sam?' he thought. 'Jon Pertwee in Chucks?'

He found the 'corkscrew-shaped thingy' within seconds and knelt down next to the body and pressed it into the outstretched hand.



It wasn't often anyone knew who he was, unless they'd met him before and though he was 99% certain he didn't know anyone from Manchester 1973, that wasn't to say he might not in the future. Or should he say the past?

He glanced up from what he was doing and then hit his head several times as he scrambled out from under the console, to his feet.



Sam frowned, shook his head and frowned again.


The Doctor (or at least, the man he assumed to be The Doctor), clutched at the lapels of his jacket and dragged him closer.

"You're here. How? Why? It's not possible."

Sam's hands encircled The Doctor's wrists and tried to push him away without much success.

"Of course it's not possible. I'm trapped by my own mind thirty years away from reality playing cops and robbers with people who make The Sweeny seem like caring-sharing fun-time. And now I'm having a conversation with a fictional character from a television show I used to watch as a kid."

The Doctor slowly unclenched his fists and smoothed down Sam's jacket as he visibly relaxed.

"I'm ever so sorry," he murmured and for a second Sam wondered if he was actually talking to him. "You look like someone I used to know."


The Doctor stared at the man in front of him, only half convinced that he wasn't who he wanted him to be. He was vaguely aware that his hands were resting on the man's chest, but couldn't bring himself to pull away.

True he didn't feel like a Time Lord, but then if anyone could find a way to hide from him it was The Master.

The Doctor cleared his throat. "You don't happen to have a watch on you, by any chance?"

The man pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, showing off the large silver wrist-watch.

The Doctor grinned. "Excellent." He held out his hand. "I'm The Doctor."


Sam was wavering somewhere between 'panic attack' and 'hysterical laughter'. Obviously he was having a psychotic episode. During a completely different psychotic episode. He rubbed a hand over his face. That settled it. He was just plain crazy.

"Sam Tyler," he said shaking The Doctor's hand with the slightest of smiles. "Which one are you?"

The Doctor's face twisted into a vaguely confused, mostly hurt expression and he reached up to scratch the back of his neck.

"Tyler?" he asked, stepping back and then, with a frown, "Sam Tyler?"

Sam nodded slowly and glanced back towards the door, trying to work out how long it would take to escape.

The Doctor began to laugh. "Sam Tyler," he repeated. "Oh that's Masterly."


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November 2012

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