Doctor Who Fan Fiction ❯ Dr Who – Martha and Ten The Inbetweens and Backstories ❯ Chapter Thirty ( Chapter 30 )

Detective Inspector Billy Shipton staggered backwards against the wall of the alleyway and slid down to the ground. He was dizzy and nauseous, and he could hear a ringing, beeping, dinging in his ears. No, wait a minute, he could actually hear a beeping and a ding, and it was getting closer.

'Welcome,' a "too cheerful for how he was feeling" voice said.

'Where am I?' he asked the tall, thin man in the brown coat, who was listening to a single earpiece plugged into a retro looking radio.

'Nineteen sixty nine. Not bad, as it goes. You've got the moon landing to look forward to,' the spiky haired man said.

'Oh, the moon landing's brilliant. We went four times . . . back when we had transport,' the dark skinned woman said accusingly.

'Working on it,' the man said.

'How did I get here?' Billy asked him.

'The same way we did. The touch of an angel. Same one, probably, since you ended up in the same year.'

Billy tried to stand. 'No, no. No, no, no, don't get up. Time travel without a capsule. Nasty. Catch your breath. Don't go swimming for half an hour.' The tall man climbed through the red guard rails, and sat down beside him.

'I don't. I can't,' he mumbled in confusion.

'Fascinating race, the Weeping Angels,' the man said, looking up into the night sky. 'The only psychopaths in the universe to kill you nicely. No mess, no fuss, they just zap you into the past and let you live to death. The rest of your life used up and blown away in the blink of an eye. You die in the past, and in the present they consume the energy of all the days you might have had. All your stolen moments. They're creatures of the abstract. They live off potential energy.'

Billy screwed his face up. 'What in God's name are you talking about?'

The woman looked down at him. 'Trust me. Just nod when he stops for breath.'

'Tracked you down with this.' The man held up a 1960's radio, with a recording reel rotating on it. 'This is my timey-wimey detector. It goes ding when there's stuff. Also, it can boil an egg at thirty paces, whether you want it to or not, actually, so I've learned to stay away from hens. It's not pretty when they blow.'

'I don't understand. Where am I?' Billy asked angrily. He was in shock, only moments ago he'd been in basement garage of the station.

'1969, like he says,' the woman told him.

'Normally, I'd offer you a lift home, but somebody nicked my motor. So I need you to take a message to Sally Sparrow,' the man said.

Sally Sparrow, what had she got to do with all this? He'd only asked her for her phone number. He realised that the man was still talking, his voice now tinged with sadness.

'And I'm sorry, Billy, I am very, very sorry . . . It's going to take you a while.'

'How long?' Billy asked.

'We'll talk about that later maybe,' the man said, starting to stand up.

Billy grabbed his arm firmly. 'How long?'

The tall, thin man, with spiky hair, gave him such a sad look, which gave him the answer, even before he spoke. 'A life time.'

'Who are you people, how do you know all this?'

'I'm Martha,' the woman said holding her hand out to be shaken. 'And this is the Doctor.'

'Doctor who?'

'Just the Doctor,' Martha said.

They helped him to his feet, and made sure the dizziness had passed.

'Come on, we've got you a bed for the night, and then in the morning, we can discuss the future.'

In the morning, they had breakfast together, where the Doctor and Martha tried to explain what was happening to Billy, and what would happen. With breakfast finished, they sat drinking a cup of tea whilst the Doctor started to brief Billy on what he needed to know.

'I've written the things you need to know in this notebook,' the Doctor told him, taking a small, paperback notebook out of a small holdall. 'Keep it safe, and try and memorise everything in it.'

'What's in it, does it tell my future?'

The Doctor frowned, trying to think of the correct phrase. 'More of a guide to your future. There are some definite no-no's, like Sally Sparrow, DO NOT try to contact her before the allotted time.'

'Which is?' Billy asked, raising his eyebrows.

The Doctor hesitated, his face sad. 'I'm sorry Billy . . . but it's the day you die. If you try and contact her before then, you'll create a causal feedback loop paradox, and tear a hole in the fabric of space and time, which will destroy two thirds of the universe.'

'Just nod,' Martha said helpfully.

'The same goes for historic events from now until 2007, stay out of them, let them happen. I take care of anything that needs to be prevented.'

'Really,' Billy said sceptically.

'Yeah, really. Remember Ten Downing Street being hit by an Exocet? That was me.'

'We were put on terror alert when that happened,' Billy told him.

'Sorry about that, had to stop aliens from taking over the Earth. Oh, and the ghosts turning into robots, fighting the flying pepper pots in the skies around Canary Wharf . . . hang on, that sounds like a pop group.'

'What does?' Martha asked in confusion.

'The Flying Pepper pots, you should write that down Billy . . . sorry, where was I? Oh yes, Canary Wharf; that was me sending them to Hell . . . me and Rose . . .'

Martha noticed that look on his face again, the one he always had when he thought about "her".

'Is that when she left?' Martha asked quietly, reaching out and holding his hand.

He looked at her hand, holding his, and then at her concerned face. He nodded silently, and then turned to face Billy. 'Just let things happen as you remember them.'

'Okay,' Billy said, thumbing through the notebook. 'What about my career, will I be able to pick up where I left off?'

The Doctor shook his head. 'People aren't as enlightened as they are in the twenty first century, prejudice is rife I'm afraid.'

Martha saw a flash of anger in Billy's eyes. 'Hey, you should try being a woman my colour in 1913, it was a nightmare.'

'1913?'

'Er, yeah, long story, anyway Billy-Boy, you get into publishing,' the Doctor said, reaching into his pocket and taking out a roll of notes. 'Take this money, and spend the day looking for a job. We've got some decorating to do, so we'll see you back here this evening for the final briefing.'

'Hey, that's my money!' Martha said in protest, she'd worked for days in the charity shop to earn that.

'And after this evening, we won't need it,' the Doctor told her.

'What, it's happening tonight?' she asked excitedly.

'Yep, yesterday, the owners of Wester Drumlin went away on a luxury holiday they won in a competition . . . Funny that, I don't think they even entered a competition.'

'How could you possibly know that?' Martha asked.

'Because I thought of it and it happened, which means that when we get the TARDIS back, I arrange for them to win a holiday competition.'

'That's brilliant!' she exclaimed.

'TARDIS?' Billy asked.

They both looked at him. 'It's complicated,' they said together.

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Whilst Martha had been working in the shop yesterday, the Doctor had staked out the house, and watched as the occupants loaded cases into a taxi, and drove away. He'd casually strolled across the road, walked through the wrought iron gates, and `sonicked' the kitchen door at the back of the house. In the living room, he'd peeled off some of the blue and gold `fleur-de-lis' patterned wallpaper, taking it to a decorating store to get a match.

And now, here he was again, with Martha, a holdall full of rolls of wallpaper, a packet of paste, scissors, a scraper, a wooden spoon, some brushes, and a pack of wax crayons. They stood, looking at the regency fireplace, with the candelabra light fittings on the wall, and the ripped corner of paper that the Doctor had taken yesterday.

'Right, I'll start stripping the rest of the paper off, you go and see if you can find a bucket to mix the paste in,' he said as he dropped the holdall on the floor, and took out the scraper.

'Okay,' she said, and went back to the kitchen, where they had entered the house. She headed for the sink, and checked the cupboard underneath, where she found a bucket full of cleaning materials. She carefully put the items on the kitchen table; half filled the bucket, and went back to the living room.

The Doctor had made really good progress, and standing on a table that he had moved over to the fireplace, he was carefully removing the uppermost parts of the paper. Martha reached into the holdall, and took out the packet of paste, tearing it open and pouring the flakes into the bucket and stirring it around with the wooden spoon.

The Doctor took out the packet of crayons, and selected a black one before approaching the wall.

'Here we go then, time to write Sally the message,' he said as he started to write “BEWARE THE”.

'Hang on, how do you know that they're not going to redecorate?' Martha asked.

He finished “WEEPING ANGEL”, and looked at her as though she had dribbled down her top; Rose would have known the answer to that one.

'Because I know Sally Sparrow saw this message,' he said simply.

'Oh yeah . . . sorry.'

He smiled at her kindly. 'Don't be, you're doing great. Thinking in the fourth dimension isn't easy, and you're picking it up really well.'

'Really? Thank you,' she said. 'I've been wondering, how does this work then, y'know, when does the TARDIS come back?'

He wrote “OH, AND DUCK” as he explained. 'When this message is complete, and we've covered it with wallpaper, we go back to Billy and give him the list of seventeen DVD's and the reel of film that he will eventually record onto those DVD's. When we do that, the circle is complete, Sally and Larry do their bit, they put the DVD in the TARDIS console, and it appears in front of us as Billy takes the list and reel off us.' He wrote “NO REALLY, DUCK!”

'Wow! How do you do that?' she asked in admiration.

'Years of practice,' he said as he finished “SALLY SPARROW DUCK, NOW”. 'Okay, let's cut the paper to size.'

By the end of the afternoon, Wester Drumlins was back to how it had been before the owners had left. No one would be any the wiser that a message had been left on the wall over the fireplace.

Back at Springfield House, the Doctor and Martha sat in the dining hall, drinking tea and waiting for Billy to return. The Doctor spotted Captain Hanson, and called him over.

'Captain Hanson, I just wanted to let you know that we'll be leaving this evening, and we wanted to thank you for generosity and kindness, you're a credit to that uniform.'

'We'll be sorry to see you go, you've been a breath of fresh air around here, and an inspiration.' He shook the Doctor's hand, and kissed Martha on the cheek.

'And I can say with confidence, that William and Catherine Booth would be proud to see their mission in such good hands,' the Doctor said.

'It's strange, but when you speak of our founder, you sound as though you knew him,' Hanson said.

The Doctor smiled at him. 'Yeah, I suppose it does . . . but that would be impossible, wouldn't it?'

Hanson laughed. 'In my line of work, the impossible is easy; it's miracles that take a bit of effort.'

The Doctor nodded in agreement, Hanson was right, miracles were hard work. At that point, Billy Shipton walked into the dining hall and walked over to them, he had a bemused smile on his face.

'How did it go Billy?' Martha asked.

'Well, that's the weird thing,' he said frowning. 'I went to the Job Centre to register, except it's called the Employment Exchange in this day and age, and then it hit me, I don't exist here, no birth certificate, no National Insurance number, no NHS number, nothing.'

'Oh God, I hadn't thought about that, what happened?'

'I gave them my name, the day, and month of my birth, and then hesitated about the year, I mean, it was . . . or will be 1980, but they found me, born on the eighth of October, 1942. I have a National Insurance number, and an NHS number, I mean; tell me, how can that be?'

Martha looked at the Doctor, and he waggled his eyebrows with a smile. 'I think you'll find you've got a bank account as well, with some funds in it to get you started.'

Billy just looked at them, stunned into silence. Martha hugged him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, before walking over to the Doctor. 'Is there no end to your talents?'

'Not found one yet,' he said with a cheeky grin. 'Right then Billy-Boy, can we have a word outside, it's time for us to be moving on.'

They walked out of the front of the building, and around the corner, out of sight of anyone in the hostel. The Doctor took a piece of paper out of his pocket, along with a yellow foil packet.

'This is a list of seventeen films that you will publish on DVD's in the future,' he said handing it over.

Billy looked at the list and laughed. 'These are mostly `chick flicks'.' And then he had a realisation. 'These are Sally Sparrows DVD's, aren't they, how can you possibly know this?'

'Yes they are, I can't tell you how I know, and you can't tell her either Billy. One day she'll work it out for herself,' the Doctor told him quietly.

'And now, the final piece of the puzzle.' He held out the yellow foil packet. 'This is a recording that has to be hidden on those seventeen DVD's, it's imperative that it's reproduced perfectly.'

Billy took the offered packet, and they heard the sound of time and space being bent out of shape.

'Ah, that's our ride.' He held his hand out, one last time, and Billy shook it. 'Thank you Billy Shipton, you've saved the Earth from destruction by a quantum locked life form.'

Billy looked, open mouthed at the TARDIS as it appeared. 'It was yours all along . . . the dummy police box . . . it was yours.'

The Doctor patted the wooden exterior with affection. 'Yep, best set of wheels in the universe.'

Martha gave Billy a long, long hug. 'I'm sorry you can't come with us, but like he said, we need you to save the universe, and there aren't many who can say they've done that.'

'It's certainly something to put on my C.V,' he said with a smile.

Martha released him from the hug, and the Doctor opened the TARDIS door. She went inside and the Doctor stood in the doorway, looking at Billy.

'Doctor, your notebook says that I'll meet Sally again . . . on the day that I die . . .'

'Yeah, you have a long and happy life to live before then, so don't be too eager, but when you meet her, you'll have until the rain stops.' Billy nodded his understanding, and the Doctor nodded back. Without another word, he stepped inside the TARDIS and closed the door.

He walked up the ramp to the console and started the time rotor; Martha stroked one of the coral struts.

'Oh it's SO good to have her back again,' she said.

'Yeah,' he said with a smile. 'Why don't you go and freshen up, while I'll go and rig a holiday competition and change the date of birth on Mr. Shipton's records.'

She smiled at him, and went through to the corridor that led to her room. Twenty minutes, and a change of clothes later, she returned to the console room. The Doctor was just in the process of landing the TARDIS.

'So where are we?' she asked.

'Cardiff,' he replied.

"Cardiff?" Not very alien or exotic she thought.

'Ah, but the thing about Cardiff, it's built on a rift in time and space, just like California and the San Andreas Fault, but the rift bleeds energy. Every now and then I need to open up the engines, soak up the energy and use it as fuel.'

'So it's a pit stop?'

'Exactly. Should only take twenty seconds . . . the rift's been active,' he said, deep in thought.

'Wait a minute. They had an earthquake in Cardiff a couple of years ago, was that you?'

'Bit of trouble with the Slitheen, a long time ago . . . lifetimes.' He remembered Rose . . . and Jack . . . and Mickey, all gone now.

'I was a different man back then.' He had a different face, a different body, and he was jealous of the relationship that Rose had with Mickey. Martha was quiet, as she saw that look on his face again. Cardiff obviously held some painful memories for him.

'Finito. All powered up,' he announced, and moved around the console. As he did, he saw a familiar figure running towards them on the monitor. He could feel the wrongness of Jack Harkness, and so could the TARDIS. He pulled down the materialise/dematerialise lever, and started the time rotor, looking up and smiling as it pumped up and down. Suddenly, there was an explosion on the console, and the TARDIS lurched, throwing them to the floor.

'Whoa! What's that?' Martha asked in a panic.

He climbed to his feet and braced his foot on the console as the TARDIS bucked. 'We're accelerating into the future. The year one billion . . . five billion . . . five trillion . . . Fifty trillion . . . ? What . . . ? The year one hundred trillion? That's impossible.'

'Why? What happens then?'

'W, w, w, we're going to the end of the universe.'