32) Now I've Got to Support Him!
Mar. 3rd, 2014 12:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
starjargonShe had just arrived in Britain- a land as foreign and unfamiliar to her as the comet on which she was born. They had assured her that her mother had lived here, somewhere. She knew she would have to be on her guard- her previous… owners weren’t so much a problem nowbecause she’d changed so very much. Now, it was the authorities she needed to avoid, as they would be quite curious as to why such a young girl was on her own. She looked around, wandering the streets and trying to remember any details she could about her mother, both taking strength from the recollection and hoping there was a clue as to where she lived.
She was getting scared, and hungry, and she hugged the lunchbox her caretakers had given her closely to her chest. She missed them- the kind old couple who’d taken her in after she’d changed. Were it up to her, she would have stayed with Jessica and Arthur Williams for the rest of her life. But, she knew her mother was out there somewhere, and she needed to find her. Despite her slightly psychopathic tendencies, they’d always understood her- perhaps more than anyone else ever had. And with their help, she’d arrived here.
She didn’t know where to start looking, so she’d asked that strange man to take her back to the year she remembered seeing her mother- 1969. She had a name and a hair colour, and hoped that would be enough to go on. She’d been looking for weeks, scouring newspapers and infiltrating schools to use their resources, on the lookout for any hint of the family she’d lost so long ago, hopelessness beginning to sink in. She was tired and scared and found herself constantly perfecting her lying and running skills as she had dodged the authorities. One day, after a particularly spectacular chase, she created a diversion to keep the policeman who’d asked far too many questions occupied, then ran the other way.
She found herself in a shop, looking around and taking in the clothing and merchandise around her, until she came face to face with a young woman with a kind smile and skin as dark as her own.
“Hello,” she said, looking up at the small child who’d raced in, “what are you doing here, then?”
“I… I was just… well, I was just waiting for my mum,” she looked out the window, seeing the reinforcements her pursuer had obviously called. The woman glanced out as well, hearing the sirens and seeing the panic on the young girl’s face, piecing together the fear and half- starved look in the child’s appearance with the commotion outside, and seeing right through the lie.
“I see,” she said with a knowing smile. “Why don’t you sit over there until she gets here?” she finished with a twinkle in her eye. She got out some paper and a few pens and handed them to the girl. She began drawing absentmindedly, looking up at the windows every few minutes, tracking the movements of the officers outside, worrying as she saw them begin going door to door and trying to plan her escape once she was found out.
Her legs began twitching in anticipation, she had already counted every exit, and was preparing to run when an officer came in.
“Good afternoon, sir. What can I help you with today?” asked shop girl cheerily.
“Have you seen a little girl running around? Probably causing some sort of mischief- you know how these kids from the homes are. Thieves and troublemakers, the lot of them.”
Melody’s feet were already on the floor, her heart racing as she reached to grab her few possessions, when she heard the woman’s reply and was stopped cold.
“No. No one here but me and my sister,” she pointed to Melody, who was still sat frozen on the bench, pen unconsciously held threateningly in her hand.
The officer took in the shocked little girl, his appraising eye raking her appearance suspiciously.
“Why does she look so-“ he began, indicating her very bedraggled appearance.
“So what?” asked the woman challengingly, crossing her arms as she stood between the officer and Melody, “Can’t a kid play outside anymore without being accused of some crime or something? Or are you saying I should keep her cooped up in here like some sort of caged animal, to avoid accusations from people like you?” Her anger was so convincing even Melody began to resent the cop for her “sister’s” sake.
“I meant no offense, ma’am,” said the officer, clearly flustered at having indirectly insulting the woman, “I just meant… it’s nice to see kids can still be kids these days. Some folks ain’t that considerate.”
“Well, some of us have to make a living as well as take care of little ones. It may not be much but it’s as much as we have to offer them.”
“Of- of course ma’am. Just- erm, be careful,” he said, turning an anxious eye to the little girl in the corner, “don’t want good kids like you getting caught up with the wrong crowd.”
He cleared his throat as he turned away, relieved to be away from under the woman’s scrutinizing gaze.
When the door closed behind him, her arms dropped and she turned around to peer at the disheveled child, smiling at her before nodding back toward the door.
“You’re not really waiting here for your mum, are you?” she asked, indicating the sirens still blaring down the street.
Melody was silent as she shook her head slowly, staring at her saviour in wonder. The woman looked out the window once more, then fully took in the little girl in front of her, from the dirty face and hair to the worn clothes to the small body that clearly hadn’t had a proper meal in far too long. She smiled softly, eyes filling with compassion.
“Is there anyone waiting for you to get home?”
Melody swallowed, shaking and lowering her head sorrowfully at the pitiful truth.
“Well,” said the woman gently, “I guess you’ll just have to go home with me then. Let’s see if we can’t clean up that nasty little cut and get you something decent to eat.”
Melody looked down at her knee, unaware of the deep cut that had been bleeding so freely, and was surprised to see the woman already bending down, cleaning it and examining the wound. The child didn’t bother acknowledging the sting, but got nervous when the woman started sterilizing a needle.
“Ooh, that’s going to need a couple of stitches,” she proclaimed, rubbing her leg soothingly, “Nothing to worry about, though. Back home, I was training to be a doctor.”
Melody couldn’t suppress a shiver, looking quickly away from the woman.
“What’s wrong?” she asked the frightened young girl.
“Nothing,” Melody mumbled grumpily, “I just don’t like doctor’s much.”
“Well,” she responded with a smile, “we’re not all bad. Like my friend- the guy I live with- he’s a Doctor. Well, he claims to be. Most wonderful man I’ve ever met. There now. All done.”
Melody looked at the patched wound, an unfamiliar smile of gratitude coming to her face.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“Don’t worry about it… I’ve just realized, we’ve not even been properly introduced. What’s your name, love?”
“Melody.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Melody. I’m Martha. Martha Jones.”
After Martha had bought Melody a few clean outfits from her shop and left work for the day, she and the little girl walked to a flat not too far away. Melody had gotten unused to the comfort of an adult hand in hers, and relished the warmth and safety offered by this stranger. She hugged her red Roman lunchbox and small bag close to her chest, afraid some passerby might snatch them from her fingers.
When they entered the spacious little flat, Martha led her to a bathroom off to the side, pulling some of the clothes out of the bag and setting them on a shelf as she helped the little girl undress. She shampooed her hair and helped scrub her clean, careful of her tender knee. Then she helped her dress again and stood back to admire the difference in the child. She saw the fight in the girl’s eyes, the stubborn set to her lip and anger hidden just below the surface. But now, in light of all the day’s events, she was surprised to see something else in the little girl- fear. And uncertainty. She smiled and held out her hand, leading the child to the kitchen.
“Martha,” the Doctor cried out as he let the door slam behind him, “ have you seen my anapodictic chronometer - it should make a beeping sound followed by a shallooooow…oh. Who are you?” he asked Melody rudely when he spotted her. His sharp eyes took in how quickly she went from ravaging the food on her plate to how she’d now frozen, her eyes challenging and her fork turned in her hand menacingly, almost as though she’d intended it as a weapon. He quickly dismissed this thought as he realized the age of the small child before him, his wariness replaced by compassion for the girl.
“This is my friend Melody,” Martha said, coming up behind the girl and lightly placing a hand on her shoulder, careful not to startle her.
“Oh, hello,” said the Doctor, cheerily extending his hand, “I’m-“
“John Smith,” Martha injected, remembering the girl’s unnerving flinch from earlier. Martha trusted the Doctor with her life, and knew the girl would too, but she saw no reason to distress her any further over something so trivial as a title.
The Doctor looked sideways at her, a question in his eyes, which he quickly ignored to sit down across from their guest.
“So where’d you come from, Melody?” he asked suddenly, watching as she went back to devouring her meal.
“Here and there,” she replied, trusting this man solely because her Martha did.
“Ah, and does here and there have a name?” he asked, lifting his head and scrutinizing the mysterious little girl.
“Yes,” she answered brusquely, her guard immediately up again in light of so many questions.
“What he means to say is, where are you staying right now, Melody? Is there anyone we should call so they won’t worry?” Martha tenderly asked the child, heaping more food onto the girl’s plate.
“Just Jess and Arthur,” Melody replied, “but they wouldn’t know me yet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Martha with a confused little laugh.
“Nothing,” mumbled Melody, staring down at her plate to avoid the critical narrowing of Mr. Smith’s eyes.
Suddenly, they heard a ding, and the Doctor stood up and looked behind the sofa, bringing out the strangest contraption Melody had ever seen.
“Aha!” he declared, waving his contraption in the air!
“Told you, Martha- this device will help us get back home! It can help identify temporal disturbances and anomalies, and will beep to let us know when we’re onto something. Should show us who else we need to talk to get the old girl back here.”
“What’s he talking about?” asked Melody, now suspicious of the man for an entirely different reason.
“Just nod and smile, it’s what I do,” replied Martha.
“Oh, it’s broken!” declared the Doctor glumly, shaking the device and examining it closer- “You’re only supposed to ding when there’s stuff!” he shouted at the machine.
“He’s crazy,” whispered Melody, having understood exactly what he had been saying and was suddenly worried some part of it might be true and she would be found out.
“Don’t worry about him, he’s harmless.”
“If you say so,” said Melody skeptically, anxious every time the contraption beeped as it faced her.
That night Martha tucked Melody into a makeshift bed on the sofa. She pulled the cover over her, softly stroking her hair as the tired girl finally let her eyes close, fighting as long as she dared, before succumbing to rest at last.
The Doctor wandered into the sitting room, pacing to and fro and muttering quietly to himself while he tried to figure out how to fix his anapodictic chronometer. He’d observed the girl warily all evening as though she was a mystery he needed to solve, before Martha finally pulled him aside and reprimanded him, telling him she was alone and needed their help, not an analysis. She’d finally sent him to his room to work on his chronometer detection thing. Now he was walking around, gathering nonsense from around the flat, and adding it to his gadget, talking to no one in particular. He was surprised to hear a small voice behind him speak up.
“It’s because it doesn’t have a shell.”
“What?” he whirled around, looking at the little girl on the sofa.
“Your anapodictic chronometer. It needs a shell- that’s why it only beeps randomly- it’s unstable.”
She got up and walked over to him, first using a chair to reach for a food container, then gathering all his hodgepodge equipment and began setting it in there piece by piece. When she was done, she turned the contraption toward the door, where a low buzzing sound made its way to his ears.
He watched her as she worked, astonished as a girl no more than 5 or 6 years old assembled a device even the brilliant Martha couldn’t understand. She looked pleased with herself as she handed it back to him, stating that he should probably find a more permanent solution as the plastic would most likely melt soon.
“Who are you, Melody?” he asked in astonishment.
She just looked down silently, refusing to answer his questions.
“Somehow I think there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
“Like what?” asked the child in her most innocent voice, part denial and part genuine curiosity.
“Not every child your age could say anapodictic chronometer, much less assemble one.”
She shrugged. “I guess I’m not every child.”
“No,” he said, still staring at her blatantly, “you’re not. Who are you? Where did you come from?”
She looked up at that question, her eyes as piercing as his.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
He took her hand gently in his, leading her the table as he made her hot cocoa with plenty of extra whipped cream for both of them.
“And just what does that mean?” he asked, his eyes kinder than they’d been since he first saw her do that thing with her fork. They looked intently at each other, and both saw souls much older than their faces belied.
The next morning, Martha woke to the laughter of both Melody and the Doctor.
“You made breakfast?” she asked in surprise as she took in the sight of both of them at the table, each attacking the same piece of sausage with their utensils, playfully fighting over who should get that one sacred piece.
“You’re the one who said you only wanted 2 pieces,” Melody claimed.
“Well, I lied. And, I made this piece to begin with, so by rights, it belongs to me.”
This continued for several more minutes, with the shredded sausage link being forcibly stolen from one plate to the other, forks stabbing and dueling as their holders clashed over ownership of the tattered piece of meat. Finally, Martha picked up two more sausage links and placed one on each of their plates, declaring a draw. When the Doctor looked up at her to complain, Melody reached over, plucked the remains from his plate, and quickly shoved them into her mouth, victory written all over her smile.
The Doctor pouted for a moment, hiding his own smile over the little girl’s tenacity as he returned to his plate.
“You two seem to be getting on a lot better than yesterday. What changed here?”
“Well, I may have accidently woken Melody up last night,” said the Doctor tentatively.
“John paces really loud,” reaffirmed Melody with a grin.
Martha looked between the two of them, seeing the camaraderie that had developed between the pair despite their apparent bickering.
“Anyway, we got to talking, and we realized we have quite a bit in common. Melody here is stuck too.”
“You are?” asked Martha with interest. She hadn’t been able to draw the little girl out much last night.
“She’s looking for her mum,” said the Doctor in his “it’s quite simple, really” tone.
“Oh? Is she missing?”
“No,” said Melody carefully, “I’m the one who’s missing. I used to be in a orphanage. But I saw her once! She came, but then she got taken away. I know she wants me. I just know it. And since she hasn’t found me, I’m going to find her,” the little girl’s lip set with determination, her words laced with finality. It broke Martha’s heart.
“Right,” she said, at a loss. “D- John, can I talk to you for a moment? Privately.”
The Doctor walked over with Martha, smiling at Melody as he caught the napkin she’d just aimed at his head.
“I don’t know what to do about her,” she confided to him, “I mean, I know we should probably leave her to the authorities, but after how they acted toward her yesterday…”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Martha, she would just run away from any homes they placed her in. Mind you, that’s if they knew what to do with her in the first place. She’s not an ordinary girl, I’ll tell you that.”
“Doctor- you can’t really be suggesting we take her with us, can you? What would we do with a little girl like her?”
“No, Martha, I somehow think even we couldn’t stop this girl from doing what she wants. And she wants to find her mum. Only one solution, really.”
“And that is…?” she asked, knowing the unfortunate truth about orphans or children who’ve been placed into group homes.
“We help her find her,” he said gleefully, his smile bright as the sun. With that declaration, he turned, before she had any time to respond or even to recover from her shock, and sat back down to the table, conversing easily with Melody as they finished their breakfast.
“So you really travel in time?” asked Melody as she looked between the two of them while the Doctor tested his device yet again. They were out of eggs by now, but beyond that, they’d still had no luck finding any time distortions.
“Yeah, we do” said Martha as she and Melody hid from the damage behind large pile of sacks, just in case anything exploded. Again.
“Is that sort of thing really possible?” queried the little girl, her arms folded across her chest as though the idea were ludicrous.
“’Course it is,” said the Doctor as he approached them, waving the smoke away with his hand, “though, I suspect that’s not much of a surprise to you, is it Melody?”
She’d been caught again.
“I’ve only seen it once, and they had to go through a lot of trouble to get me here because it’s the last time I saw my mum.”
“Who’s they?” asked Martha, hoping to glean some more information out of this secretive child.
“The people who helped me get here,” she responded vaguely.
“You know, Mels, you don’t mind if I call you Mels do you, if you came here through time travel, it’s possible your mum did too,” said the Doctor unhelpfully as he looked down and made more adjustments.
“So, you mean she might not even be in this year?”
“Well, it’s always a possibility she’s not even in this century,” he continued, until he looked up at last as he heard Martha clear her throat pointedly then indicate the tears that threatened the little girl’s eyes.
“Not to worry though, I’m sure between the three of us we could pinpoint the exact year. Well, decade. Well, the right era. We’ll get you to her one way or another,” he amended, throwing an arm around her shoulder as they headed back to the flat.
“So, Melody, this is important. I want you to close your eyes and tell me everything you can remember about your mother from the last time you saw her. It should help us figure out when she came from,” encouraged the Doctor, leaning forward eagerly as he listened to the young girl. He could ask her to peer into her mind, but he knew she was still on guard around him, and the idea of time travel was strange enough without adding a two- hearted telepathic alien.
Melody closed her eyes and told them everything she could remember about that beautiful woman who’d come for her once before. She told them about the black suit she’d been wearing the last time they’d met, about the hairstyle and her funny accent. She told them about the time before when she’d seen her at a distance, in short trousers made of denim and a flannel shirt and the rough boots that covered her feet. She told them about the strange tiny phone she’d carried without a box or even a wire connecting it to the receiver. She described the people she had been with and the strange outfits they’d worn, about the simple man she’d spotted with shorts and a collared green shirt. She told them of the other man with braces and a bowtie and a silly old man’s jacket with patches on the side.
Then she described every detail she could remember of her mother’s face- the way she’d smiled in the one photo Melody used to have of them together. Of the hair so bright it put the sun to shame. Of the kind eyes she’d seen beyond the fear in the moment. Of the high cheeks and round face and long limbs she’d seen on that amazing woman. She opened her eyes when she started to get confused between her mother and Jessica, obviously aching for a sense of home as her mind played tricks on her.
“And you said her trousers cut like this,” said the Doctor, modeling with his own as he tried to get a sense of what this woman wore. Melody nodded and corrected him as they went item by item.
“And this phone- tell me about this phone.” Martha pulled out her own mobile and showed it to Melody, who was amazed at the portable communication device- something she’d always thought only Torchwood would have.
“So, what do you think?” asked Martha when the Doctor was through mentally compiling a list of attributes and narrowing down eras and possibilities.
“Well, based on the descriptions Melody gave us, that sounds like the late 20th to early 21st century. Earth, if I’m not mistaken. Now Melody, tell us more about that accent.”
By the end of the day, they’d concluded that Melody’s mum had grown up sometime between the 1990s and the 2010s, if her technology and clothing were indeed indicative of her time and place of origin. So now Melody just needed to find a way to late 20th Century Scotland and the rest would follow. This was the part Martha was most worried about, not wishing to leave the little girl on her own in a different time in a different country all on her own.
“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” the Doctor reassured her, “of course we’ll take her home.”
A few days later a plan was set in motion and all that was left to do now was wait. Melody had become a regular at the shop now and was content to visit Martha as often as possible. When she wasn’t there, she was helping “John” with his “timey wimey detector” (he changed the name after she claimed his former one was too obnoxious and show offy.) They would go through the city, seeing if the noise ever changed as he held it together, case after case failing to contain it.
Then, finally, Melody had an idea. While they were in one of the back rooms at Martha’s shop, she took the sides out of her lunchbox as carefully as she could and put them in her bag, setting the device and all its contents within the confines of the new frame. When the Doctor tried to stop her, she looked up at him with eyes that had really lost some of the edge since he’d met her.
“You helped me when I was stuck, now I’m going to help you,” she said, stubbornly keeping the device in its new casing. He looked at her, gratitude and awe in his eyes as he looked at one of her few precious possessions that she was willingly giving to him.
“I really hope you find your mother, Melody,” he said sincerely, “and that she’s everything you dream she is.” He took the now sturdy device, whirling it around him, excited when the attached phone piece began emitting a signal.
“Oh!” he said excitedly. “Oh, yes- that’s brilliant!” He turned to her, “It’s active, meaning someone else should be coming relatively soon, then just a few days after that and off we pop!” He gave her that smile that was so brilliant his head bobbed, and grabbed her small body as they twirled around. Martha came in to quiet them, and then joined in their excitement when she realized the cause.
Suddenly, Melody saw news on the television for the space program with the astronauts, and old fears began to boil up in her, suffocating her until she could no longer bear it. She didn’t have a few days. She didn’t have a few moments. She needed to get out of 1969 as soon as possible, before the Spaceman came for her again.
She looked at Martha and John, and something in her eyes must have alerted them, because Martha reached out for her, trying to calm the little girl. But Melody already had grabbed her bag, backing away toward the door. She breathed evenly even as she made her way toward the exit, not listening to Martha or John’s pleas that she tell them what had happened. She looked at the television once more, seeing the horrid thing that had haunted her last life and had terrified and took her mother, and she turned on her heel to go.’
“I hope I see you again someday, John. Maybe with my mother next time. Martha- you’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.” And with that statement she turned before they could stop her or go after her, running out of Mrs. Zucker’s Mini Emporium for the last time.
She was getting scared, and hungry, and she hugged the lunchbox her caretakers had given her closely to her chest. She missed them- the kind old couple who’d taken her in after she’d changed. Were it up to her, she would have stayed with Jessica and Arthur Williams for the rest of her life. But, she knew her mother was out there somewhere, and she needed to find her. Despite her slightly psychopathic tendencies, they’d always understood her- perhaps more than anyone else ever had. And with their help, she’d arrived here.
She didn’t know where to start looking, so she’d asked that strange man to take her back to the year she remembered seeing her mother- 1969. She had a name and a hair colour, and hoped that would be enough to go on. She’d been looking for weeks, scouring newspapers and infiltrating schools to use their resources, on the lookout for any hint of the family she’d lost so long ago, hopelessness beginning to sink in. She was tired and scared and found herself constantly perfecting her lying and running skills as she had dodged the authorities. One day, after a particularly spectacular chase, she created a diversion to keep the policeman who’d asked far too many questions occupied, then ran the other way.
She found herself in a shop, looking around and taking in the clothing and merchandise around her, until she came face to face with a young woman with a kind smile and skin as dark as her own.
“Hello,” she said, looking up at the small child who’d raced in, “what are you doing here, then?”
“I… I was just… well, I was just waiting for my mum,” she looked out the window, seeing the reinforcements her pursuer had obviously called. The woman glanced out as well, hearing the sirens and seeing the panic on the young girl’s face, piecing together the fear and half- starved look in the child’s appearance with the commotion outside, and seeing right through the lie.
“I see,” she said with a knowing smile. “Why don’t you sit over there until she gets here?” she finished with a twinkle in her eye. She got out some paper and a few pens and handed them to the girl. She began drawing absentmindedly, looking up at the windows every few minutes, tracking the movements of the officers outside, worrying as she saw them begin going door to door and trying to plan her escape once she was found out.
Her legs began twitching in anticipation, she had already counted every exit, and was preparing to run when an officer came in.
“Good afternoon, sir. What can I help you with today?” asked shop girl cheerily.
“Have you seen a little girl running around? Probably causing some sort of mischief- you know how these kids from the homes are. Thieves and troublemakers, the lot of them.”
Melody’s feet were already on the floor, her heart racing as she reached to grab her few possessions, when she heard the woman’s reply and was stopped cold.
“No. No one here but me and my sister,” she pointed to Melody, who was still sat frozen on the bench, pen unconsciously held threateningly in her hand.
The officer took in the shocked little girl, his appraising eye raking her appearance suspiciously.
“Why does she look so-“ he began, indicating her very bedraggled appearance.
“So what?” asked the woman challengingly, crossing her arms as she stood between the officer and Melody, “Can’t a kid play outside anymore without being accused of some crime or something? Or are you saying I should keep her cooped up in here like some sort of caged animal, to avoid accusations from people like you?” Her anger was so convincing even Melody began to resent the cop for her “sister’s” sake.
“I meant no offense, ma’am,” said the officer, clearly flustered at having indirectly insulting the woman, “I just meant… it’s nice to see kids can still be kids these days. Some folks ain’t that considerate.”
“Well, some of us have to make a living as well as take care of little ones. It may not be much but it’s as much as we have to offer them.”
“Of- of course ma’am. Just- erm, be careful,” he said, turning an anxious eye to the little girl in the corner, “don’t want good kids like you getting caught up with the wrong crowd.”
He cleared his throat as he turned away, relieved to be away from under the woman’s scrutinizing gaze.
When the door closed behind him, her arms dropped and she turned around to peer at the disheveled child, smiling at her before nodding back toward the door.
“You’re not really waiting here for your mum, are you?” she asked, indicating the sirens still blaring down the street.
Melody was silent as she shook her head slowly, staring at her saviour in wonder. The woman looked out the window once more, then fully took in the little girl in front of her, from the dirty face and hair to the worn clothes to the small body that clearly hadn’t had a proper meal in far too long. She smiled softly, eyes filling with compassion.
“Is there anyone waiting for you to get home?”
Melody swallowed, shaking and lowering her head sorrowfully at the pitiful truth.
“Well,” said the woman gently, “I guess you’ll just have to go home with me then. Let’s see if we can’t clean up that nasty little cut and get you something decent to eat.”
Melody looked down at her knee, unaware of the deep cut that had been bleeding so freely, and was surprised to see the woman already bending down, cleaning it and examining the wound. The child didn’t bother acknowledging the sting, but got nervous when the woman started sterilizing a needle.
“Ooh, that’s going to need a couple of stitches,” she proclaimed, rubbing her leg soothingly, “Nothing to worry about, though. Back home, I was training to be a doctor.”
Melody couldn’t suppress a shiver, looking quickly away from the woman.
“What’s wrong?” she asked the frightened young girl.
“Nothing,” Melody mumbled grumpily, “I just don’t like doctor’s much.”
“Well,” she responded with a smile, “we’re not all bad. Like my friend- the guy I live with- he’s a Doctor. Well, he claims to be. Most wonderful man I’ve ever met. There now. All done.”
Melody looked at the patched wound, an unfamiliar smile of gratitude coming to her face.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“Don’t worry about it… I’ve just realized, we’ve not even been properly introduced. What’s your name, love?”
“Melody.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Melody. I’m Martha. Martha Jones.”
After Martha had bought Melody a few clean outfits from her shop and left work for the day, she and the little girl walked to a flat not too far away. Melody had gotten unused to the comfort of an adult hand in hers, and relished the warmth and safety offered by this stranger. She hugged her red Roman lunchbox and small bag close to her chest, afraid some passerby might snatch them from her fingers.
When they entered the spacious little flat, Martha led her to a bathroom off to the side, pulling some of the clothes out of the bag and setting them on a shelf as she helped the little girl undress. She shampooed her hair and helped scrub her clean, careful of her tender knee. Then she helped her dress again and stood back to admire the difference in the child. She saw the fight in the girl’s eyes, the stubborn set to her lip and anger hidden just below the surface. But now, in light of all the day’s events, she was surprised to see something else in the little girl- fear. And uncertainty. She smiled and held out her hand, leading the child to the kitchen.
“Martha,” the Doctor cried out as he let the door slam behind him, “ have you seen my anapodictic chronometer - it should make a beeping sound followed by a shallooooow…oh. Who are you?” he asked Melody rudely when he spotted her. His sharp eyes took in how quickly she went from ravaging the food on her plate to how she’d now frozen, her eyes challenging and her fork turned in her hand menacingly, almost as though she’d intended it as a weapon. He quickly dismissed this thought as he realized the age of the small child before him, his wariness replaced by compassion for the girl.
“This is my friend Melody,” Martha said, coming up behind the girl and lightly placing a hand on her shoulder, careful not to startle her.
“Oh, hello,” said the Doctor, cheerily extending his hand, “I’m-“
“John Smith,” Martha injected, remembering the girl’s unnerving flinch from earlier. Martha trusted the Doctor with her life, and knew the girl would too, but she saw no reason to distress her any further over something so trivial as a title.
The Doctor looked sideways at her, a question in his eyes, which he quickly ignored to sit down across from their guest.
“So where’d you come from, Melody?” he asked suddenly, watching as she went back to devouring her meal.
“Here and there,” she replied, trusting this man solely because her Martha did.
“Ah, and does here and there have a name?” he asked, lifting his head and scrutinizing the mysterious little girl.
“Yes,” she answered brusquely, her guard immediately up again in light of so many questions.
“What he means to say is, where are you staying right now, Melody? Is there anyone we should call so they won’t worry?” Martha tenderly asked the child, heaping more food onto the girl’s plate.
“Just Jess and Arthur,” Melody replied, “but they wouldn’t know me yet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Martha with a confused little laugh.
“Nothing,” mumbled Melody, staring down at her plate to avoid the critical narrowing of Mr. Smith’s eyes.
Suddenly, they heard a ding, and the Doctor stood up and looked behind the sofa, bringing out the strangest contraption Melody had ever seen.
“Aha!” he declared, waving his contraption in the air!
“Told you, Martha- this device will help us get back home! It can help identify temporal disturbances and anomalies, and will beep to let us know when we’re onto something. Should show us who else we need to talk to get the old girl back here.”
“What’s he talking about?” asked Melody, now suspicious of the man for an entirely different reason.
“Just nod and smile, it’s what I do,” replied Martha.
“Oh, it’s broken!” declared the Doctor glumly, shaking the device and examining it closer- “You’re only supposed to ding when there’s stuff!” he shouted at the machine.
“He’s crazy,” whispered Melody, having understood exactly what he had been saying and was suddenly worried some part of it might be true and she would be found out.
“Don’t worry about him, he’s harmless.”
“If you say so,” said Melody skeptically, anxious every time the contraption beeped as it faced her.
That night Martha tucked Melody into a makeshift bed on the sofa. She pulled the cover over her, softly stroking her hair as the tired girl finally let her eyes close, fighting as long as she dared, before succumbing to rest at last.
The Doctor wandered into the sitting room, pacing to and fro and muttering quietly to himself while he tried to figure out how to fix his anapodictic chronometer. He’d observed the girl warily all evening as though she was a mystery he needed to solve, before Martha finally pulled him aside and reprimanded him, telling him she was alone and needed their help, not an analysis. She’d finally sent him to his room to work on his chronometer detection thing. Now he was walking around, gathering nonsense from around the flat, and adding it to his gadget, talking to no one in particular. He was surprised to hear a small voice behind him speak up.
“It’s because it doesn’t have a shell.”
“What?” he whirled around, looking at the little girl on the sofa.
“Your anapodictic chronometer. It needs a shell- that’s why it only beeps randomly- it’s unstable.”
She got up and walked over to him, first using a chair to reach for a food container, then gathering all his hodgepodge equipment and began setting it in there piece by piece. When she was done, she turned the contraption toward the door, where a low buzzing sound made its way to his ears.
He watched her as she worked, astonished as a girl no more than 5 or 6 years old assembled a device even the brilliant Martha couldn’t understand. She looked pleased with herself as she handed it back to him, stating that he should probably find a more permanent solution as the plastic would most likely melt soon.
“Who are you, Melody?” he asked in astonishment.
She just looked down silently, refusing to answer his questions.
“Somehow I think there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
“Like what?” asked the child in her most innocent voice, part denial and part genuine curiosity.
“Not every child your age could say anapodictic chronometer, much less assemble one.”
She shrugged. “I guess I’m not every child.”
“No,” he said, still staring at her blatantly, “you’re not. Who are you? Where did you come from?”
She looked up at that question, her eyes as piercing as his.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
He took her hand gently in his, leading her the table as he made her hot cocoa with plenty of extra whipped cream for both of them.
“And just what does that mean?” he asked, his eyes kinder than they’d been since he first saw her do that thing with her fork. They looked intently at each other, and both saw souls much older than their faces belied.
The next morning, Martha woke to the laughter of both Melody and the Doctor.
“You made breakfast?” she asked in surprise as she took in the sight of both of them at the table, each attacking the same piece of sausage with their utensils, playfully fighting over who should get that one sacred piece.
“You’re the one who said you only wanted 2 pieces,” Melody claimed.
“Well, I lied. And, I made this piece to begin with, so by rights, it belongs to me.”
This continued for several more minutes, with the shredded sausage link being forcibly stolen from one plate to the other, forks stabbing and dueling as their holders clashed over ownership of the tattered piece of meat. Finally, Martha picked up two more sausage links and placed one on each of their plates, declaring a draw. When the Doctor looked up at her to complain, Melody reached over, plucked the remains from his plate, and quickly shoved them into her mouth, victory written all over her smile.
The Doctor pouted for a moment, hiding his own smile over the little girl’s tenacity as he returned to his plate.
“You two seem to be getting on a lot better than yesterday. What changed here?”
“Well, I may have accidently woken Melody up last night,” said the Doctor tentatively.
“John paces really loud,” reaffirmed Melody with a grin.
Martha looked between the two of them, seeing the camaraderie that had developed between the pair despite their apparent bickering.
“Anyway, we got to talking, and we realized we have quite a bit in common. Melody here is stuck too.”
“You are?” asked Martha with interest. She hadn’t been able to draw the little girl out much last night.
“She’s looking for her mum,” said the Doctor in his “it’s quite simple, really” tone.
“Oh? Is she missing?”
“No,” said Melody carefully, “I’m the one who’s missing. I used to be in a orphanage. But I saw her once! She came, but then she got taken away. I know she wants me. I just know it. And since she hasn’t found me, I’m going to find her,” the little girl’s lip set with determination, her words laced with finality. It broke Martha’s heart.
“Right,” she said, at a loss. “D- John, can I talk to you for a moment? Privately.”
The Doctor walked over with Martha, smiling at Melody as he caught the napkin she’d just aimed at his head.
“I don’t know what to do about her,” she confided to him, “I mean, I know we should probably leave her to the authorities, but after how they acted toward her yesterday…”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Martha, she would just run away from any homes they placed her in. Mind you, that’s if they knew what to do with her in the first place. She’s not an ordinary girl, I’ll tell you that.”
“Doctor- you can’t really be suggesting we take her with us, can you? What would we do with a little girl like her?”
“No, Martha, I somehow think even we couldn’t stop this girl from doing what she wants. And she wants to find her mum. Only one solution, really.”
“And that is…?” she asked, knowing the unfortunate truth about orphans or children who’ve been placed into group homes.
“We help her find her,” he said gleefully, his smile bright as the sun. With that declaration, he turned, before she had any time to respond or even to recover from her shock, and sat back down to the table, conversing easily with Melody as they finished their breakfast.
“So you really travel in time?” asked Melody as she looked between the two of them while the Doctor tested his device yet again. They were out of eggs by now, but beyond that, they’d still had no luck finding any time distortions.
“Yeah, we do” said Martha as she and Melody hid from the damage behind large pile of sacks, just in case anything exploded. Again.
“Is that sort of thing really possible?” queried the little girl, her arms folded across her chest as though the idea were ludicrous.
“’Course it is,” said the Doctor as he approached them, waving the smoke away with his hand, “though, I suspect that’s not much of a surprise to you, is it Melody?”
She’d been caught again.
“I’ve only seen it once, and they had to go through a lot of trouble to get me here because it’s the last time I saw my mum.”
“Who’s they?” asked Martha, hoping to glean some more information out of this secretive child.
“The people who helped me get here,” she responded vaguely.
“You know, Mels, you don’t mind if I call you Mels do you, if you came here through time travel, it’s possible your mum did too,” said the Doctor unhelpfully as he looked down and made more adjustments.
“So, you mean she might not even be in this year?”
“Well, it’s always a possibility she’s not even in this century,” he continued, until he looked up at last as he heard Martha clear her throat pointedly then indicate the tears that threatened the little girl’s eyes.
“Not to worry though, I’m sure between the three of us we could pinpoint the exact year. Well, decade. Well, the right era. We’ll get you to her one way or another,” he amended, throwing an arm around her shoulder as they headed back to the flat.
“So, Melody, this is important. I want you to close your eyes and tell me everything you can remember about your mother from the last time you saw her. It should help us figure out when she came from,” encouraged the Doctor, leaning forward eagerly as he listened to the young girl. He could ask her to peer into her mind, but he knew she was still on guard around him, and the idea of time travel was strange enough without adding a two- hearted telepathic alien.
Melody closed her eyes and told them everything she could remember about that beautiful woman who’d come for her once before. She told them about the black suit she’d been wearing the last time they’d met, about the hairstyle and her funny accent. She told them about the time before when she’d seen her at a distance, in short trousers made of denim and a flannel shirt and the rough boots that covered her feet. She told them about the strange tiny phone she’d carried without a box or even a wire connecting it to the receiver. She described the people she had been with and the strange outfits they’d worn, about the simple man she’d spotted with shorts and a collared green shirt. She told them of the other man with braces and a bowtie and a silly old man’s jacket with patches on the side.
Then she described every detail she could remember of her mother’s face- the way she’d smiled in the one photo Melody used to have of them together. Of the hair so bright it put the sun to shame. Of the kind eyes she’d seen beyond the fear in the moment. Of the high cheeks and round face and long limbs she’d seen on that amazing woman. She opened her eyes when she started to get confused between her mother and Jessica, obviously aching for a sense of home as her mind played tricks on her.
“And you said her trousers cut like this,” said the Doctor, modeling with his own as he tried to get a sense of what this woman wore. Melody nodded and corrected him as they went item by item.
“And this phone- tell me about this phone.” Martha pulled out her own mobile and showed it to Melody, who was amazed at the portable communication device- something she’d always thought only Torchwood would have.
“So, what do you think?” asked Martha when the Doctor was through mentally compiling a list of attributes and narrowing down eras and possibilities.
“Well, based on the descriptions Melody gave us, that sounds like the late 20th to early 21st century. Earth, if I’m not mistaken. Now Melody, tell us more about that accent.”
By the end of the day, they’d concluded that Melody’s mum had grown up sometime between the 1990s and the 2010s, if her technology and clothing were indeed indicative of her time and place of origin. So now Melody just needed to find a way to late 20th Century Scotland and the rest would follow. This was the part Martha was most worried about, not wishing to leave the little girl on her own in a different time in a different country all on her own.
“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” the Doctor reassured her, “of course we’ll take her home.”
A few days later a plan was set in motion and all that was left to do now was wait. Melody had become a regular at the shop now and was content to visit Martha as often as possible. When she wasn’t there, she was helping “John” with his “timey wimey detector” (he changed the name after she claimed his former one was too obnoxious and show offy.) They would go through the city, seeing if the noise ever changed as he held it together, case after case failing to contain it.
Then, finally, Melody had an idea. While they were in one of the back rooms at Martha’s shop, she took the sides out of her lunchbox as carefully as she could and put them in her bag, setting the device and all its contents within the confines of the new frame. When the Doctor tried to stop her, she looked up at him with eyes that had really lost some of the edge since he’d met her.
“You helped me when I was stuck, now I’m going to help you,” she said, stubbornly keeping the device in its new casing. He looked at her, gratitude and awe in his eyes as he looked at one of her few precious possessions that she was willingly giving to him.
“I really hope you find your mother, Melody,” he said sincerely, “and that she’s everything you dream she is.” He took the now sturdy device, whirling it around him, excited when the attached phone piece began emitting a signal.
“Oh!” he said excitedly. “Oh, yes- that’s brilliant!” He turned to her, “It’s active, meaning someone else should be coming relatively soon, then just a few days after that and off we pop!” He gave her that smile that was so brilliant his head bobbed, and grabbed her small body as they twirled around. Martha came in to quiet them, and then joined in their excitement when she realized the cause.
Suddenly, Melody saw news on the television for the space program with the astronauts, and old fears began to boil up in her, suffocating her until she could no longer bear it. She didn’t have a few days. She didn’t have a few moments. She needed to get out of 1969 as soon as possible, before the Spaceman came for her again.
She looked at Martha and John, and something in her eyes must have alerted them, because Martha reached out for her, trying to calm the little girl. But Melody already had grabbed her bag, backing away toward the door. She breathed evenly even as she made her way toward the exit, not listening to Martha or John’s pleas that she tell them what had happened. She looked at the television once more, seeing the horrid thing that had haunted her last life and had terrified and took her mother, and she turned on her heel to go.’
“I hope I see you again someday, John. Maybe with my mother next time. Martha- you’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.” And with that statement she turned before they could stop her or go after her, running out of Mrs. Zucker’s Mini Emporium for the last time.
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Thanks!
Date: 2014-03-04 06:20 pm (UTC)Re: Thanks!
Date: 2014-03-06 11:28 pm (UTC)Re: Thanks!
Date: 2014-03-10 09:48 pm (UTC)