|zeborah (zeborah) wrote,|
@ 2011-09-15 11:23 pm UTC
|Entry tags:||creative, doctor who, fanfic|
Spoilers: Particularly for episodes 6.08 and 6.10.
Notes: From a long-held ember of a thought, combined with the spark of an anonymous comment. A gift for fans who mourn.
Interlude: a Fugue for Three Voices
"Help me," the Doctor pleaded, scrabbling on the steps in his tuxedo.
It was pitiful, really, Melody thought, and went to him. She crouched by his side and whispered in his ear, "Oh, Sweetie. Never in a million years." Then, with just one last glance over her shoulder to enjoy the sight of him sagging in despair, she skipped on up into the TARDIS.
"Now what have we here?" she said appreciatively, running her hands over the TARDIS console. It was flashy, of course -- that was the Doctor for you -- but she liked a little bling herself, so she decided she could live with it. Her parents (her adoptive parents, that was, not Amy and Rory, who hardly counted) had given her all kinds of instructions for this eventuality, but she'd largely tuned them out. Besides, Melody wasn't one for dwelling in the past.
"The future it is," she said to herself -- and jumped when a giant lever beside her clanked down. "Can you really hear me?" she asked curiously.
A light turned on.
"Int-eresting," she said, and wandered around the console. She remembered seeing the Doctor at that handle: she tried winding it, and to her right something pinged, and she remembered more and more. Before she knew it she was actually flying the TARDIS, or perhaps it was flying her, and it was the most fun, the most freedom, she had ever had in her life.
The TARDIS landed, and she ran out to see where she was. After she'd dispatched the six robots (she was foolhardy but not stupid, and for a man who claimed to be peaceful the Doctor stored a wonderfully varied arsenal of weapons in his labyrinth) and had hauled Amy back into the TARDIS, she sat and watched her.
It really was her mother -- her birth mother. How strange, seeing her the age the mother of someone Melody's age should be. It made her think about missed years, and other such melancholy nonsense. She shook herself. She was going squooshy inside: maybe she needed to go out and kill some more robots.
But before she could move, Amy's eyes opened, and Melody made herself smile. "Hi Mum," she teased, because Amy might be her mother, but she had no right glimpsing any of her innermost thoughts.
Amy gazed at her blankly, and for a moment Melody wondered if she'd gone senile in her old age. But then she said slowly, "You. Is it really you?"
Melody's stomach squirmed at the wistful tone. "As you see me," she said lightly.
"How did you get the TARDIS?"
"Don't you remember? I know you and Dad lead a busy life, but I thought killing the Doctor and stealing the TARDIS would leave some impression." A flicker of understanding lit Amy's eyes, and something like sorrow. Hastily Melody continued, "What are you doing here, anyway? Of course I knew you'd get out of Berlin: stuck in a time machine, hardly rocket science -- but why here, just when I was about to arrive?"
Amy smiled wryly. It shouldn't have suited her, but her old face wore it as naturally as she wore her patchwork armour. "Wrong question," she said, pulling herself to her feet. "You should be asking what you're doing here."
"Saving you, apparently," Melody pointed out. A thought struck and she added, "Do I have to save Rory too?"
"No," Amy said flatly, and turned away. "He's safe." While Melody was trying to figure out what to read into that, she trailed her fingers along the console and said, "Long time no see... sexy. What do you say?" she added over her shoulder, with a flash of the impishness Melody had known so many long, long hours ago. "Girls' night out?"
For a moment, Melody thought she had never heard anything so sad in her life. But then she shook herself again and flashed back a wicked grin. "I'm game if you are," she said, and the TARDIS whooped in agreement.
(to be continued whenever necessary, by anyone so inspired)