madimpossibledreamer

This one is weird and was written when I was super into Death Note (especially Matt and L) and Doctor Who. I think the temptation to ship the two in a weird game!convention way came from a now-deleted Doctor Who fanseries (and also probably a lack of sleep during college).
I like it and don't. It's slightly cringey but not...I dunno. I don't know what to say about this one. It's weird.
~dreamer~

Main Points:
Death Note/Doctor Who
Summary: Matt cosplayer fell in love with human!doctor? Then 11, Amy, and Rory meet modern day version at a convention.
Word Count: 3545
Rating: Teen

Stars of Destiny and Meetings of Fate

This is Matt. Matthew Harding that is. And last night, my best friend died.

I would feel more empty, but...he left me his necklace. A promise. "I'll return," he told me, hazel eyes staring into mine, and then he managed one of those small secret smiles he always smiles. As long as I had the necklace, he said, he'd find me. And then I told him he better not haunt me, 'cause I wouldn't be too happy about that. And he grinned, clasped my hand, and...

And died.

They say I have to go to the funeral. I don't want to. He wouldn't have wanted me to, so I don't want to go. But the parents resisted.

"He's just depressed. He doesn't want to let the reality sink in." Of course, I had held him as he died, and it was my tears, not his, that had soaked his cheeks when they found him.

But no one had noticed as I tore off through the woods, afraid that I'd be found with the body, and that would be under his list of Not Good Things. I wanted him to smile, to hand me another Jammy Dodger and hug me, telling me that everything would be a'ok. But it wouldn't be, not really, and even though he knew that he'd tell me anyway. Who's the idiot here?

So here I am sitting in the dark, knowing I should be crying or something. Instead, I just…I just want to hide away from the world. We’d been so close. All the games of the imagination. Together we’d sailed the stars, fought off pirates, rescued the kingdom from evil wizards, flew on dragons above the clouds. No one could ever catch us, the amazing adventurers. We were invincible.

Not anymore.

I’d hide from the world, waiting for my best friend to return. I miss him already, and it’s only going to get worse, but…if I hide, then I won’t notice. It’s obvious in the real world that he’s gone. Maybe if I’m not in the real world, I won’t notice.

The Doctor laughed, spinning around the console. “Come on, Pond, Rory, it’ll be fun!”

“I’ll…pass, thanks,” Rory admitted after a minute.

“Really, Doctor, couldn’t you just go out and take a look, and we’ll entertain ourselves in the TARDIS?” Amy asked, giving her husband a glance that made him sweat. Too bad the Doctor was completely oblivious to it, looking up with a hurt expression.

“But why? It’s going to be lots of fun! It’s a Convention. In America! The people there are very nice, very lovely, and there’s good food! Really, it’s something you wouldn’t want to miss. Would you?”

He seemed so dejected that they both looked at each other, sighed, and stated as one, “No, Doctor…”

“Good! I promise you, it’ll be entertaining! They’ve got movies and popcorn and everything!” His companions sighed and tromped off and he suddenly felt a psychic twinge, as if he’d lost something. Not again, he thought, but it disappeared, and he blinked.

Something was at this convention, something important, something he’d seemingly forgotten. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to keep his eyes out. He wasn’t about to mention what had happened to his companions, though. It might turn out to be nothing.

Twenty-two year old Matt Harding gasped awake, caught up in sweaty blankets and half lost in his dream. He felt his heart pound, the roaring in his ears like some sort of giant elephant, more awake than ever.

He’d been dreaming about his friend John, only neither of them were kids anymore. They’d been lazing around under an apple tree in the midst of a beautiful garden that he’d never seen before, his friend having grown up into a beautiful, lanky, wild-haired man, all joints and smiles, but he was still beautiful. Somewhere along the line, the longing and loss had resolved itself into a crush, but he’d never dreamed what a teenage or adult Johnathan Smith would look like, or had him close, ever since he died. Ever since the blood stained his hands. Water, probably a stream, trickled somewhere nearby. The textbook picture of tranquility. Matt sighed happily. Out of the blue a giant, somewhat clumsy hand reached out and ran a few fingers along the necklace that he wore now constantly. It was better company and reassurance than any human being could give. But now John was here, and he realized that he should probably give it back now that his friend had returned like he’d always promised he would. “Right, sorry, this is yours…” His fingers got tangled trying to release the catch, and another hand stopped him, pulling his hand down gently.

“You should keep it. Just because I’ve arrived doesn’t mean that I don’t mean to keep my promise.” The voice had deepened somewhat, was now that of a man.

“Oh.” He tried not to blush in pleasure, and turned away slightly to rest his head on his hands, as a butterfly flew past. His bare feet waved lazily in the air, grass beginning to stain his legs as his pants were rolled up against the heat.

He started, almost asked an angry question as John’s hands firmly caught his own, wrenching them out from underneath his chin, but had to swallow it as large, soft lips met his own. He melted, suddenly not caring at all that his wrists were trapped and useless, or that a flop of hair tickled his forehead.

He woke up in mid-kiss and stifled a moan, feeling beneath his sleep shirt to find the necklace he still wore always. It was a bit of a choke hazard, but he didn’t usually move around much in his sleep.

He’d known for a bit that he was bi, but never really thought about relationships much, having buried himself in the make believe world of video games and computers and books. It took John to get him interested in the real world again. Well…more than just in the Pros at the Con convention (yeah, it was a bad pun, but with things like Genghis Con around, it was only a matter of time). He was just overly excited about it, he told himself, having lost much of his hope that John would ever return. He was dead, and that’s all there was to it.

He wondered why, then, he felt so much anticipation and have so much trouble sleeping, as he tossed over and over trying to get his suddenly awake mind to give it a rest…

Amy could tell by the fact that The Doctor’s movements were even more jerky and erratic than normal that he was excited. More than normal, anyway…the Doctor was almost always excited about something.

At last he had switched his bow tie, checked the coordinates, and threw open the doors with a flourish. “Voila!” he shouted, and Amy wondered whether he actually expected applause.

They emerged in the middle of a group of crazy people. ‘Lovely’ and ‘nice’ might be polite words for ‘completely barmy.’ Just the Doctor’s kind of people too.

People were in all sorts of costume, and dragging everything from axes taller than they were to bags and backpacks to…nothing. Some were in suits. Some looked like they hadn’t changed or washed in a week. Many were in t-shirts and jeans. But the ones in costume stood out-everything from (probably) anime characters to alien-looking things to elves to cats. She didn’t…think…they were actually aliens, but with the Doctor one never knew. “There’s all sorts of games from all over the world. Humans are amazing! I want to go check what Looney Labs is up to this year, though…that’s the people in the bunny costumes. I’ll be right back.”

Rory rolled his eyes and muttered, “Loony is right…” staring at the massive influx of people.

“You’ll need passes!” a woman in a somewhat revealing spandex costume yelled at them both, jerking her head back to a line. “Just so you know so you won’t get thrown out. Although if all you want to do is look at the merchandise, I’ll lend you mine if you want.”

Soon enough, the Doctor was back, smiling sheepishly. “I forgot we need to pick up our passes,” he explained.

“I was wondering whether you were forgetting something,” Rory remarked, a gentle hint at ‘take us out of here’. As usual, the Doctor was completely clueless.

They had spent several hours waiting less than patiently as the Doctor enthusiastically bounded from booth to booth, exclaiming over this game or that.

“I didn’t know this many games existed,” Rory admitted, looking at the expanse of the huge exhibition room.

The enthusiastic Time Lord was coming back to them to show his new acquisition when he froze. And then fled the room.

Amy and Rory, puzzled, followed where his gaze had been to a red-headed kid leaning up against a wall. For his part, he looked just about as surprised, if not shocked and hurt, mouth hanging open. If he was dangerous, he didn’t really look it.

A cigarette fell out of his mouth, his fingers stilled on the controls of his portable gaming console. He just looked like another of the many antisocial weirdos that had been happily browsing or avoiding contact even with their fellows in this crazy place. Orange goggles, striped shirt, jeans, black boots, and leather gloves. In an ordinary place, he’d probably stand out. Here, he was just one among the many.

So Amy decided, despite Rory tugging on her arm, that approaching wasn’t a bad idea.

“Uh, hey. You should probably put that out,” she stated in a friendly tone of voice, pointing at the cigarette at his feet, hoping that a friendly, sympathetic opening would help her get some insight into what had just happened.

He still remained staring for a moment before he shook his head, as if to clear it. “Nah, it’s not real. It’s for the Matt cosplay,” he explained in an English accent. He blinked, and it looked as if tears were about to come into his eyes. Then he hesitated once before setting down the console and reaching up to slowly undo a necklace from around his neck. It had been hidden under his shirt.

“Look…this belongs to your mate. Not to me. So…give it back to him and tell him I never stopped believing.” The voice was shaky, but the red-head went back to his game, proceeding to ignore them.

“You know the Doctor?” Rory asked, skeptical.

“Well, he certainly looks like the same bloke and he recognized me. But I knew him as Johnathan Smith.” Amy tried not to start. At some point the Doctor had mentioned that he’d used that alias before. She tried to smile reassuringly at him.

“We’ll be back once we straighten this out, okay?” He just managed an angry shrug.

It took more than fifteen minutes to find the Doctor, and when they did both of them stopped and stared. The Doctor was crying.

His shoulders were shaking, and his hands were gripping a pole hard as he stared out the window, as if he let go he would be swept away.

“Um. Doctor. What’s going on?” Amy asked gently. All of the elements were adding up to a big mystery. One of the biggest she’d known from the Doctor.

“I…I don’t know him,” he managed hesitantly, sounding ashamed and more than a little scared.

“That’s not what he says. He said to give you this,” Amy responded, holding out the necklace.

He half-turned, tears sliding down his cheeks, eyes widening at the thin cord and watery blue-green stone pooled in her palm. “I’ve never seen him before in my life, but it’s as if I’ve known him for years. I could recognize him instantly and yet we’ve never met. And the sight of him makes me feel so guilty. What have I forgotten? What have I done?”

Gently, he took the necklace as if it would bite him and carefully fastened it around his neck. “I…I might have an idea of what this is, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen it before in my life either. Yet it fits…”

He was interrupted by a single scream.

By this point, both companions knew how this went. Someone screamed, Doctor ran toward the scream, they followed. A familiar pattern, but it was somehow different this time.

Giant bats, shrouded in shadow. She’d seen a few of them before, without the shadows around them like a cloak, but thought it was just a really good costume. If anywhere, this was a good place for aliens to hide. No one would give them a second glance.

“Where is the Time Lord? We have described him to you; surely one of you must have seen him! Tell us and we will spare your lives!” The voice was hissing, but strangely melodic, mesmerizing.

The gamer they’d seen earlier elbowed his way to the front of a frightened crowd. “He’s gone! He came for the early morning session and left hours ago! You’re wasting your time!” Angry, depressed? Yes. But still trying to protect the Doctor or Johnathan Smith no matter how scared he was of those things.

Carefully, cold, inhuman eyes looked him over. “You are lying. That is a mistake.”

Several things happened at once.

A spear of black light flew at the gamer, hitting him along his collarbone on the right side and disappearing. He shrieked with agony and fell, clawing at the air. The Doctor ran forward with a scream of anguish, anger, and pain, letting his emotions get the better of him. Again. He might be walking in the middle of the trap, but he didn’t care.

Who is that guy? Amy wondered.

And each and every one of the hulking, creepy dark bats turned to look at them, what looked like smirks flitting across their faces showing crimson, gleaming fangs.

“We have your TARDIS, and we have taken your knight. Checkmate, Survivor of Gallifrey.” With that ominous tone, the bat-things blinked out of existence, their darkness closing in until they winked out. Teleport, probably.

The Doctor was kneeling, anguished, at the still screaming gamer’s side. Rory knew his duty. He may not be a doctor, but he was a nurse, and there was a wounded person from the alien attack. So he rushed over as quickly as he could.

“Does anyone have a first aid kit?” After a moment of continued shock, a few finally began to move, hopefully to follow his instructions.

“That won’t help very much,” the Doctor muttered despondently, other words making themselves discernable now and then. That was probably true with an alien wound, but it was all he could think to do.

“Well…we can’t just leave him. And it’s not your fault, Doctor,” he stated hollowly, knowing his words probably would not be of any use. “They seemed determined to get to you somehow no matter what. Your being here wouldn’t have stopped them.”

The Doctor turned sharply toward him, and he flinched upon seeing the look of cold steel on the alien’s face. He hesitated, then reached out and held one of the flailing hands. “I wish I knew what was going on,” he admitted, jaw tightening as the gasps and shrieks did not end.

“Do you know his name at least?” Amy asked, staring at the twisting, pale form. At least he’d let up on his shrieks. No one (not even, apparently, the Doctor) seemed to know what was going on, but at least the convention people were sympathetic and offered their hospitality. The Doctor himself had carried the long, lanky body up to the room, refusing to let anyone else have the burden. He’d been acting strange ever since he’d seen the red-headed gamer, and she felt somewhat suspicious. Was he a son? A nephew? …a boyfriend? None of these seemed quite right, but the odd protectiveness, the guilt, the crying might be explained by any one of them. The Doctor said he didn’t remember, but…he’d lied before. Although if he truly didn’t remember, maybe something very tragic…amnesia?

The hazel eyes stared down at the writhing figure, which moaned and gasped and barely breathed through the pain, for what seemed a long time. Then at last, he said distantly, “Matt.”

“Yeah, he mentioned something about a Matt cosplay,” Rory stated offhandedly, carefully removing the goggles from the eyes no matter how much the red-head squirmed. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but it seemed to fit. “Doctor, I’m going to either need to remove his shirt or tear it off. I need to get to the wound.” It proved impossible to remove the shirt unless he was held down, and even then Rory despaired of doing it in the amount of time they had. So he’d gritted his teeth, muttered, “Sorry, mate,” and ripped off the cloth on the shoulder. Then the part covering the collar bone.

The Doctor’s hand tightened upon seeing the wound.

Black tendrils like the roots of a tree spread outward from a dark black circle. It didn’t help that the wounded man screamed louder than ever as the cold convention air hit the wound. Rory stopped. “I…don’t know what to do with this.”

The Doctor thought for a second then dug around in his pockets with his free hand. Wordlessly, he handed what appeared to be a jar of cream to Rory.

“…What is this, Doctor?” It was important to know what he was doing to his patient.

“It…I think it should help. You smear it over the wound.” His voice was low, matter of fact, despairing. Without the usual playful hint to it. Something was seriously wrong.

The gamer hissed at the pain when Rory gingerly touched the wound, began smearing the whitish cream over the area, which disappeared as if being absorbed into the skin. He began gasping for breath, faster and faster, until he stopped breathing altogether. Just for a second. Then his eyes flashed open. With a weird blue light in them.

“John, whereareyoujohnIneedyouplease…” he moaned, the first words he’d spoken since collapsing on the dealer hall floor. “I never stopped believing. I knew you’d come.” The words had to be gasped out, as he fought to draw breath. “I’m so scared, and I’m so alone. I need you. I’ve always needed you.”

“You’re not alone. The Doctor’s here, and he’ll save your life. He’s good at this sort of thing,” Amy promised, after a surreptitious glance at the bone-white Doctor’s face. He wasn’t going to answer.

Matt continued as if he hadn’t heard. “They say…you’re just going to leave me again. Going to leave me to die. To be changed. They’re reaching into my mind and stealing away everything that is me, and they say you don’t care. That you never cared. That you won’t come and save me. I don’t…I don’t believe them.” The words were brave, but the lips twitched, as he fought back tears. But he just wanted to believe, because he was so scared.

The Doctor flinched, then took a deep breath. He was about to do something incredibly stupid, but he wanted-no, needed-answers, and he wasn’t about to get them if he didn’t do something drastic.

So he reached out his free hand and placed two fingers on Matt’s temple, two below his ear, the thumb perched next to the nose. It swiped away Matt’s tears, and then he closed his eyes. The alarmed shouts of Amy and Rory as he slumped in his chair faded into the background, as he stepped into Matt’s consciousness.

Matt’s mind was an odd place. What really disturbed the Doctor, however, was the fact that he seemed to belong there, as much as he belonged anywhere. This was his home. The TARDIS was his home. And yet he shouldn’t belong.

Alien skies wheeled overhead, red grass beneath his boots. In the next second, he was in sylvan wilderness, the next a desert (but a pleasant one), the next huge glowing caverns.

He encountered Matt’s consciousness eventually on a beautiful, streamlined spaceship, akin to a stingray. The eyes were no longer protected by the goggles, and twin blue-green pools faced him, a slight smile on the face. “I knew you would come,” he stated simply.

“Who are you? How do you know me?” The smile slipped slightly.

“Why don’t you remember me?” he asked softly, hurt.

The Doctor took a deep breath. “I’ve never met you before in my life.”

Matt scoffed. “Then why did you run?”

He found he had no answer for that. “How do you know me?” he asked again gently, finding he didn’t want to hurt this fragile, beautiful soul.

So then Matt explained. All about his wonderful friend, Johnathan Smith, and how they’d explored the realms of the imagination together. About how he’d died. And the Doctor had little more explanation for this than he had before he’d ventured in.

“Why d’you think I was so keen to get back to you? It wasn’t because you’re one of the first friends I’ve ever made, y’know.”

“Are you saying you like me?”

“Yeah, the kiss would probably hint that, yeah.”