Bill Potts (girlouttatime) wrote in onewaythreads, @ 2017-08-23 21:02:00 |
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Bill knew she should have said something to the Doctor about the dreams but she didn’t want to worry him. She had talked it over from both her perspective and then her mother’s and it had been decided that talking to Watson would be better. He was an actual medical doctor. And besides, they’d been meaning to get together for ages now. So, rather out of the blue on the first of the month, she had shot him a text that had simply read, We should actually do that chatting thing yeah? My place [address], tomorrow, if you’re free? I’ll make the tea. After she’d gotten the confirmation, she’d gone about making chocolate chip cookies (the only thing she’d ever call a cookie really). Now, she had the kettle on and was waiting for it to boil. She hadn’t been in her apartment in awhile so she was making sure it wasn’t too dusty or messy. The only reason she hadn’t invited John to the TARDIS was that she didn’t want the Doctor peering over their shoulders or listening in. And as soon as she heard a knock, she was quick to call out, “Come in!” Didn’t matter who it was. She didn’t think anyone would be planting a bomb in her bloody apartment, after all. --- John heard the invitation to enter, so he popped his head through the door first to call out, “Hello?” before coming inside the apartment and seeing Bill. “Hey! Hope I’m not too late. Traffic coming over was horrible.” He meandered toward his host, glancing around at her apartment as he went, getting his bearings as he usually did, a habit he had since his days in the military. “You mentioned something about maybe watching a DVD, so I brought some crisps,” he added, hoisting the grocery sack he’d carried with him. The Great Mouse Detective, Bill said, but John assumed it was an animated film, and of course a mystery if the title was any indication, but besides that he didn’t know anything about it. “How are you doing? From the looks of it, alright.” -- “No! No no no. The kettle’s just getting ready to boil,” she didn’t have an electric kettle - it was a proper one. There were some things you just didn’t have to modernize. Her apartment was very unlived in looking and pretty basic. She wasn’t one for doilies and throw pillows but she had photographs everywhere - a number of her mother’s pictures had been enlarged, framed and set up, along with more scenic city images. Bill smiled faintly, noticing the way he looked around - it was the same as Sherlock had done on the TARDIS but likely for different reasons. “I made choco-chip cookies,” she told him with a grin, “So we’ve got sweet and salty. Brilliant! Go ahead and sit if you like, I’ll be right there.” She emerged from her kitchen with a tray that had two mugs, the kettle, sugar, milk and a selection of different bagged teas so he could pick whatever flavour he wanted. “I was gonna hold off on the ‘how I’m doing’ conversation for a bit but since you asked - mostly fine? The TARDIS fixed me up no problem. But, um, ever since, I’ve been having weird dreams.” She shrugged her shoulders, trying not to think too much about it. He just got there after all. Bill set the tray down on her coffee table. --- “Cookies?” John smiled and teased Bill, “What happened to biscuits? You’re becoming Americanized.” Even though Preya was home to many different people from many different universes, the overall look and feel of the cities (with the noticeable exception of Everdale) was the United States. Cars drove on the right side of the road, packages read 'cookies' instead of biscuits, gasoline instead of petrol, eggplant instead of aubergine, and even electrical devices had U.S. standard plugs, voltages and frequencies. It as almost as though the leaders of Preya who set everything up had taken a trip to New York City and liked it. "Do you need help with that?" he asked, watching Bill carrying all the tea things. It wasn't that he didn't think Bill could handle it on her own, he just felt like he ought to be doing something useful besides standing around. He was glad to hear she was alright, but the dreams? "Have you been dreaming about the explosion?" he asked with trepidation. It was possible she was experiencing PTSD, a topic he was familiar with because he suffered from it himself. He sat down upon a cushy chair. "It's not uncommon for people who went through traumatic events like you had to have dreams, reliving the experience." --- Bill stuck her tongue out for a second, “Choco-chips are cookies. Everything else is biscuits. It’s okay. You’re old.” But she ended that with a grin and a laugh. Though it was true that Preya was very Americanized as far as Bill knew. She hadn’t ever been to America though. Strange how that was the one place they’d never tried to purposely go to. It was right there, across the ocean, just waiting for them. Australia? No problem even if it had only been for a minute or two. But America had been totally skipped. “Nah, I’m good,” she told him as she set the tray down, then settled on her couch. She patted a spot next to her for him, “C’mon then.” His question was the one she had been expecting and yet, “No, actually. The explosion doesn’t really enter into it.” Her eyebrows furrowed together as she picked her tea bag, settling it in her mug so she could pour the hot water. “It’s like… Seeing how the thing with the space monks ends. Or meeting Victorian soldiers on mars. But that hasn’t happened so I don’t know why I’d be dreaming it.” There was more but those were the most immediate examples. “I mean, I’m used to bad dreams - I’ve had them all my life. This is different.” --- “I can’t complain with that logic,” John joked reaching over to select a cookie from among the rest on the platter. “And be kind to the elderly! You’re going to get there too, eventually.” He knew she was teasing, but John was thinking that people usually didn’t like being reminded about how old they were, himself included. All he had to do was look in the mirror to see the wrinkles appearing on his face and the random grey streaking through his blond. John got up from where he sat to transfer his seat beside Bill, and as he munched on the cookie, he listened to her with grave interest. At least she wasn’t traumatized by the explosion, because having PTSD is horrible to have to deal with, but something about the way she described her dreams didn’t sit right. “You’re obviously disturbed, but … the nature of dreams is sometimes disturbing. Our minds come up with all sorts of things when we sleep, it’s our subconscious. I often have recurring dreams, myself.” Particularly about his involvement in the war in Afghanistan. “Sometimes it means something, sometimes it doesn’t. Victorian soldiers on Mars? Sounds pretty out there, but it really does sound like an adventure on Doctor Who. Maybe…” he began, trying to offer her a suggestion, “... you miss traveling with the Doctor on the TARDIS, so you’re dreaming about having more adventures with him?” ---- Bill’s smile broadened at John, showing just how much she was teasing him. “I hope,” she said candidly, “Traveling with the Doctor, sometimes I worry that I won’t reach old age.” Bill shrugged a shoulder, “But that wouldn’t stop me from running off with him over and over again.” It was a real fear for her though, that she would die on some distant planet in a far reaching galaxy. The Doctor did his absolute best to take care of her but things happened. Things outside of his control. No, explosions never really got to her. There were worse things for her waiting in her dreams. But even those had vanished in favor of… Whatever was going. Bill gave him a look when he phrased it as ‘obviously disturbed’ like she was going insane, though she knew that’s not what he meant. “I mean yeah, I do, but this isn’t like a normal dream,” she insisted, “A dream, you start to forget when you wake up but if anything, they get more vivid when I wake. And like, I dreamed about these… ice warriors and I looked it up in the TARDIS library afterward. Everything was accurate and right but I’d never even heard of them before the dream.” She breathed a heavy sigh, grabbing a cookie off the plate for herself, “If it had just been the parts that went along with what the Doctor had told me, I’d say it was his influence but I don’t think it is.” --- “I guess that’s always a concern,” John replied, but he was perceiving Bill’s circumstance as a viewer of the television show. “If it helps any, I can’t recall any of the Doctor’s companions ever dying before. Sometimes bad things happen, but he’s always been able to help. It doesn’t mean you won’t be the exception, but there’s precedence. Though I admit, if I were in your shoes, I’d pretty much react the same way. It sounds like an exciting life. Some days, I wouldn’t mind traveling with the Doctor, myself. I can totally see the appeal.” John still wasn’t sold on the idea that what Bill was experiencing wasn’t just a dream. “I don’t know. I’ve had some pretty vivid dreams, which I woke up to and recalled with detail. One time,” he continued with enthusiasm as he explained, “I had a dream that I was being chased by an alligator through the streets of London, and I’d never seen an alligator in person, my whole life. But it felt real when I awoke. Later, I remembered that I’d seen a BBC documentary that included alligators, and had forgotten, but my subconscious didn’t. It tucked that information away and brought it up in my dreams. So… maybe that’s what happened to you? Maybe the Doctor mentioned the Ice Warriors, or you saw something about them before, and they surfaced that way? Or maybe, who knows? It’s the TARDIS’ influence? There’s not much known about how it works. Or… do you think you experienced before, and somehow made to forget it? And those memories are starting to break through, again?” John recalled how the Doctor erased Donna’s memory to save her life - did he do the same to Bill? He didn’t want to be specific, so as not to disturb Bill. --- Bill looked like she was going to say something for a moment but she didn’t. She wasn’t going to talk about the pictures on the Doctor’s desk or her theories about those two people. Bill leaned towards John just enough to nudge him with her elbow, “Well, we can’t travel through time and such, but have been to the bottom of the ocean around here. Maybe I can convince him to take you about. It’s not as grand as a full adventure but it’s a story, innit?” She pulled up a leg so she could rest her head on her knee, listening to him with a broad smile. Getting chased by an alligator would be a bit terrifying. Those bastards were faster than they looked when they were really keen on eating someone. She might have seen the same documentary - who knew? “It could be a bit the TARDIS but what if it’s just the TARDIS like… unlocking the future or whatever?” Her expression pretty much collapsed when he mentioned memories being erased. “No. No. He wouldn’t do that to me - he tried once and we’ve come to an understanding. No, it’s not that.” --- John’s eyebrows rose at the offer, as did his interest; the promise of danger and adventure was something that always enticed him, and even though being in a place like Preya, where people from multiple universes gathered ought to be exciting enough, John had rather settled into a routine that was not unlike the one he had in London. And while solving murders with Sherlock was always exciting, who would say ‘no’ to a ride on the TARDIS? “That… would be cool,” John replied, trying to hold back his enthusiasm. “I’d enjoy that very much.” Understatement. He poured the tea and added milk to his mug, wondering about what Bill had said. “He tried to remove your memories? How’d you talk him out of it?” He recalled the episode where Donna begged the Doctor not to do it, but maybe Bill’s circumstance was not so dire. “I don’t know what else to suggest, except maybe ask the Doctor himself what he thinks?” --- She could almost hear the internalized fanboy squealing from that expression on John’s face. Since he already knew so much, Bill could kind of guess that he really, really wanted to be on the TARDIS. His reaction would likely be way better than Sherlock’s anyhow. “Yeah, I bet you would,” she returned in a knowing voice, looking him up and down. Quietly, she poured her own tea and added more sugar to the point one might have asked if she wanted tea with all of that sugar. She had a sweet tooth sometimes, okay? Bill mixed her tea for a moment, sipping from the cup as she reflected on that particular night - the night that started it all. “I dunno,” she said finally, “I tried begging. It didn’t quite work. Then I asked him how he would feel if someone did it to him. That did.” It made her wonder who had messed with the Doctor’s memories because that was the only reason she could imagine that it would give him pause. “Went to go home, pretty certain that was it but happy and then there he was, waiting on the lawn in the TARDIS. We zoom off to a human colony in the future, nearly get killed by emoji bots and that’s how it begins.” --- The corner of John’s mouth quirked into a wry smile as he listened to Bill recount her story about how she came to travel with the Doctor, and laughed when she mentioned, “Emoji bots? Seriously? What? They only communicate back and forth through emojis?” He sipped his tea and again, his mind momentarily went back to Donna Noble and how her memory was erased. “It sounds like a lot of fun. Kind of makes Preya sound boring in comparison.” --- “Exactly,” Bill told him enthusiastically, “So like, they were made to help keep people happy right? Only then someone died. So no one was happy. But they didn’t understand grief. Grief is the enemy of happiness. So then they started killing anyone who wasn’t happy. You should’ve seen me and the Doctor faking happy.” Now, it was a grand adventure. Then, it had been terrifying and also very sad with everything that had made the colonists leave Earth in the first place. Bill lifted her cup, muttering, “Not as boring as you might think,” into her tea before sipping it. After all, there had been the bomb and the Doctor’s tinkering in attempts to break into the higher levels of government. But she really didn’t want to get John involved in that too much. “There’s you and Sherlock, probably solving what few mysteries there are around here,” she picked up a chocolate chip cookie, eyeing John carefully, “So what’s going on with you two anyway?” Bill took a bite out of the cookie to occupy her mouth and not insinuate something further - she’d seen what went around on tumblr for every incarnation of those two. --- “Oh God. Killing people who weren’t happy. Talk about extremes.” John chuckled with dark humor. “I can only imagine what I’d do in that situation.” Though he couldn’t imagine himself on a Doctor’s adventure without Sherlock. “Show me your best fake smile," he joked, then seriously asked, "How did you two manage to get out of that mess?” John thought about it for a moment, then agreed by bobbing his head, "You're right. It's not. I really ought to be more grateful for what I have, considering I thought Sherlock was dead. I'm happy we get to be together here, and solve crimes. I guess I just feel like in a bit of rut at work. I'm working at a clinic, just like in London, to help pay the bills, but sometimes I feel like that's not what I want to do." Bill's personal question made him pause, and he replied with trepidation, "What do you mean, 'what's going on between us'?" -- Bill nodded along, not having to imagine - at least on her side of things. She knew what she had done and that had been… Mostly be tricked by the Doctor into staying behind and safe. They had still been getting their groove sorted out, after all. “Would you believe that the Doctor fake smiles better than I do? And he’s all resting bitch face.” Well, maybe not that bad but he did have a bit of a grump to him. “Basically… The Doctor turned them off and turned them back on again, resetting them. So the Varday became the ‘native species’ and the human colony became their tenants.” It was still so weird to her that stopping what was essentially a massacre came down to basic tech support. She smiled as John spoke about his work with Sherlock. But when he spoke of a rut, she only arched an eyebrow, “So… The question is what do you want to do? ‘Cause the only person who can get you out of that is you - ‘least that’s what my mum would tell me.” She internally winced, not having wanted to bring up that particular fantasy with an actual doctor but here they were anyway. Bill pressed her lips together, scrunching up her nose as she tried not to grin or smile in any fashion whatsoever. Then she set her tea cup down and turned to face him properly. “Right. Look. Okay. So every version of you that I’m familiar with… People love you guys, yeah? Like… Together,” she lifted her hands and laced her fingers together very pointedly, “All over the internet there’s like fanfic and art and I figure if I just ask, then I know, then I can be queen of the fans if I remember if we ever go back.” It was written all over her face that she was on the brink of a fangirl epidemic. And, alright, the questioning was rude, but he was right here in her apartment! Now or never! Seize the day! --- “Actually, I do believe it.” About the fake smiles. If there was anything that John picked up from the show was how much the Doctor hid his true feelings. John laughed as Bill continued to explain her adventure. “What, the robots were made by Microsoft?” He thought it was funny that all they needed to do was restart the system. “If only everything was that easy. I wonder if he ever tried applying that to the Daleks,” he continued to joke. “I’ve given it some thought,” he told her, rapidly moistening his lips with his tongue before he spoke. “I’m interested in writing. I’ve been doing my blog, back in London and to a certain extent, there, but I mean really write. I’ve had somebody suggest that I write for newspapers, but I think I’d also like to try to write books. Fiction.” Speaking of fiction, John’s face became blank when Bill used the words every version of you that I’m familiar with. He often forgot that in some universes he and Sherlock were considered fictional characters themselves, even though he’d just been speaking to Bill in terms of her own television show. He didn’t want to think too much about it, and tended to evade the subject. However, “You’re pretty straightforward, aren’t you?” John fidgeted nervously in his seat, then asked, “Really?” as though he couldn’t believe what Bill had told him. --- “Actually, they had that kind of sleek Apple product look so no wonder they were trying to like assimilate happiness,” because if anything inspired a cult-like mentality, it was Apple products. She was grinning though, “I dunno. I only ever saw a Dalek like once and I couldn’t help but think they were, like, well fat. And like, they’ve got a sucker! C’mon! Did they run out of guns? Is there one in the back that’s really hacked off with two suckers and no gun?” But she wanted to hear more about what John wanted to do and less about the adventures she wasn’t going to have anymore. She didn’t need tea or a chocolate chip cookie for this part, resting her arm on the back of the couch as she kept her attention on him. “You know… Actually,” she stretched to fish her phone out of her pocket and pulled up the Academy’s website. She’d been looking up some things for herself but hadn’t decided on any courses. But she found the one she wanted and showed him the screen: Telling Your Story - Writing to Publishing, “You should take the course. Writing fiction is a bit different than blogging, yeah? And it might help with the proper book publishing part.” She hadn’t meant to close him down in that moment but, well, there were multiple versions of Sherlock and John that she knew of and at any moment, they could’ve arrived in Preya to cause confusion. “You haven’t noticed I’m not great at subtle?” She smiled in a way that she hoped was at least sort of comforting. “People like it, people ship it.” For a brief moment, Bill wondered if there was anything like that for her in other universes… And she knew that it would exist in probably the worst ways. “I mean, if you were into it, you two are pretty much perfect for each other.” --- “Oh well, the Daleks are supposed to be the most deadliest, most destructive race in your universe. That sucker is some sort of interface used with computers. Remember how R2D2 plugged into the Death Star and was able stop the trash compactor from crushing Luke, Leia, Han and Chewbacca? And then get all sorts of information? It’s kind of like that. “ Yes, John was a bit of a geek. “They look silly, but they really are dangerous.” John leaned forward to see what she’d pulled up on her phone, but it wasn’t necessary when she handed it to her to see. His eyebrows went up as he shared a glance with her. “I urm… I actually saw this class. I was thinking about taking the course.” But from the tone of his voice, it didn’t sound like he was thinking about it that seriously. All thoughts about publishing faded into the background when Bill continued to speak about his relationship with Sherlock in other universes. Uncomfortable and embarrassed at first, he squared his jaw and steeled his nerves before telling her, “We’re boyfriends,” John said, rather defensively, even though Bill never gave any indication she would respond negatively - John was speaking to his own mind. “We love each other. But I’m … not…” he took a breath to steady himself. “I don’t feel comfortable being out in the open about it. Not yet.” --- Bill honestly loved the way John geeked out about this stuff. It was kind of nice having an outsider’s perspective but one that also knew the details that she would never get. The Doctor hadn’t really ever explained Daleks much beyond that moment in the past. But she didn’t go on about Daleks. Nor did she go on about the writing course. That could wait because there was a very serious topic at hand and one that clearly put John on edge. She tried to keep her expression soft and understanding but her face really had a mind of its own sometimes. “Hey, just breathe, alright?” After a moment’s pause, she continued, “I remember my first girlfriend. Really dramatic. Kind of a shit show. Dating girls actually makes me question liking other girls.” Her face took on an annoyed expression - sort of a half snarl that she couldn’t quite get rid of. “I get it though. Like I’m out and open but I still haven’t told my foster mum and I’m definitely not about to put on a rainbow track suit and march in Pride. It’s scary. It’s really scary. And I’m sorry if you feel like I forced you to say something about it ‘cause that wasn’t my intention.” Only it probably felt like it was. She just didn’t know how to shut up. --- The anxiety John felt was somewhat mitigated when he realized what Bill was telling him - that she was gay and was empathizing with how he felt, having experienced the same sort of fears. But instead of pacifying him, John was seized by an internally motivated frustration and anger, directed not at Bill by inward, toward himself. He sharply rose from the sofa and scrubbed the lower half of his face before moving around the room with pent up energy. “What was your intention, then?” he asked in an accusatory tone of voice. “Yeah, you did force it, and now you tell me everybody suspects?” He paused and scrubbed his face again. “All my fucking life I’ve had to hide. From my homophobic father, to the threat of being beat up at school, to the possibility of being discharged from the military if it was found out that I’m into men as much as I’m into women. Society seems to be more accepting now, at least in some areas, but I’m not.” John’s frustration reached a crescendo as his self-loathing flared. “And I hate myself for it. For worrying about what others will think or say, when Sherlock means so much to me. He deserves better, and he’s patient with me, but how much do I really love him, if I’m ashamed?” --- Bill did not correct him on that it was people in her world, fans of them, that suspected and hoped, that had nothing to do with the people of his world. He had things to say and anger to get out and she would let him. He could have also denied it to her, pretended by laughing it off. There had been options. Choices. Always choices. But Bill said nothing - a rare moment of silence as she watched him and she listened. The first thing she said when he finished was, “Your love is not measured by how much you’re out. Stop thinking that. It’s hard - but stop.” She breathed a heavy sigh, “People are never going to stop hating things that are different. I’m a black lesbian that’s been to the future - I really know that. There’s always something to hate or fear. The only thing you can do is decide to be happy. How you get there is entirely up to you - don’t tell anyone, don’t come out. You don’t have to.” There was a long pause as she thought, trying to be very careful, “I don’t have answers. It’s different for everyone. Lean on the people that you love, that you know care about you - like me - and… Get some therapy, mate.” She hadn’t ever done that but traveling with the Doctor had kind of been her therapy. He made her feel like she was actually worthwhile. In amongst seven billion... But that was from a dream, wasn’t it? Her eyebrows furrowed together and she physically shook her head to clear her mind. “You are the only one who can make the choices that will lead you away from this absolute pit of despair. But I’ll help and listen if you want. And I will always be there to tell you that there is nothing wrong with you.” --- John listened to Bill without making eye contact, until the part where she mentioned she’d been to the future, and then he turned to wonder what she’d seen. When he saw her shake her head, he assumed it had something to do with her experiences - maybe what she witnessed was pretty messed up, and John wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “I’m already in therapy,” he told Bill, pretty casually considering the topic. “Went before I came here, and started going again not long after I arrived.” He didn’t feel the need to tell her the reasons - PSTD from his stint in the Army, suicidal depression that occurred when he believed Sherlock was dead - but he felt alright revealing, “Never talked about this, though we skirted around the issue a few times.” His therapist in London suspected, and John sometimes hinted at it, but he was blocked and unable to open up. When Bill included herself among those who cared about him, as somebody who he could rely upon, that touched John’s heart. “Thank you,” he said, sincerely. “That really means a lot to me.” --- Oh, that was the thing he was casual about? Honestly. She patted the space beside her again, trying to get him to sit back down but without forcing it. Maybe he still needed to be up and moving. “Yeah, well, you clearly want to talk to someone about it,” she gave him a Look - one of those expressions usually reserved for mothers to their children. After a moment’s pause, she added, truly apologetic, “I’m sorry if I pushed too much. I’m just a really big fan. And I’ve never been great at subtle anyway.” Certainly the way her face kept showing everything she was feeling revealed that much. “C’mon. Have some tea, eat a damned cookie that I bloody well baked for you, lower your blood pressure.” She tried to make it slightly amusing at the very least, get a hint of a laugh out of him. --- Bill might’ve been teasing, and she even apologized, but John’s defenses were still on guard. He didn’t think it was funny, and didn’t laugh as he sat down, not beside her where she patted, but on another, nearby seat, where he grumpily picked up his tea and took a sip. A change of topic was what he needed, so he gave it a try by asking, “So. What do you do around Preya? Besides hang out with the Doctor? --- At least he sat down and sipped his tea. That was a start. Bill breathed a heavy sigh. At least he was still talking to her - not excusing himself to leave. She could handle a change of topic and avoiding of the issue. “Dunno. Go to work. Go home. Read. Get blown up. Cook,” the more she spoke, the more she frowned, “I keep making plans and never actually doing them. Try to get the other Doctor drunk - only he’s gone now I think. Go out with Rose - haven’t done that yet.” Bill bit her bottom lip for a moment, worrying it between her teeth before speaking again, “I made a mistake coming here. I need to go home and fix things.” --- There was a long pause while John processed Bill’s last statement. He moistened his lips with his tongue before speaking, “Are you… actively trying to leave Preya?” That would make her part of the Rebel group, which the government were so keenly trying to squalsh. “Not that I’m judging!” he quickly added. “I’d be the last person to turn you in, but… it’s not a topic that’s usually up for conversation.” --- Oh, how to very carefully phrase her response that would give them both plausible deniability? “No, I’m not part of the Rebel group.” That did not say anything about her work with the Doctor - just that they weren’t working with the main rebels. “I just recognize that I made a mistake. I’ve got a world to save, apparently. The Doctor told me… And then I dreamed it - but I don’t know that I could dream that level of pain.” Putting the made-up memories of her mother into that psychic feed had been excruciating. It was no wonder that the Doctor had wanted to do it instead. And she realized she was thinking about it as if it had actually happened already. Had it? Her expression grew distant and a heaviness settled in her chest. --- John had his suspicions, but wouldn’t press the issue. “If it means anything, I hope you find a way back.” This was his way of saying that he was sympathetic, and yet… he was happy in the life he’d settled in with Sherlock and his sister Harry - if he was returned, all that might be lost. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ |