or_timelords | This could prove to be interesting.

[It's always hard to remember that humans are, in fact, linear beings, at least from a temporal viewpoint. Taking that into consideration, the fact that Sam knows about 21st century technology admittedly is little out of the ordinary for a man living in 1973.]

Could be a temporal shift. Or a displacement, really, either of you or your memories.

[He narrows his eyes at Sam and, without looking away, reaches for his sonic screwdriver again.]

When did you say you were born?

[What is he saying, Sam's actually travelled in time? But that's... well, it's impossible, for one thing, and what does that say about his sanity, if all this is real? Christ. Sam almost laughs, but he can't decide between hysterical and scornful, and ends up aborting the notion altogether. He answers the Doctor's question in order to avoid thinking about it.]

1969.

[The Doctor points the screwdriver at Sam, running the basic spatiotemporal check-up scans, but the data the little gadget spits out is most unhelpful. Apparently, there's no actual temporal disturbance about Sam, or Sam's mind, although the readings are still anything but ordinary. It seems almost as if Sam is two people, overlapping; one completely in 1973, one completely in 2006. Without any temporal disturbances to accompany this phenomenon.]

[He frowns and shakes the screwdriver a little; he's been using this one for a while, maybe it's developing quirks. But a second scan shows the same results. He shakes his head and frowns.]

How very strange.

[Sam can't help it- that grin flickers over his face again when the Doctor points the sonic screwdriver at him. Sonic screwdriver! But curiosity soon overcomes his fannishness, and he looks at the Doctor questioningly as he peers at the screwdriver.]

So, what's it say? Am I secretly a time traveller and just haven't bothered to tell myself about it yet?

I'm not sure.

[His tone is absentminded; he's still studying the readings. This makes no sense, he's never seen anything like this before. His interest is definitely piqued. This will require further studies with more sophisticated instruments than a sonic screwdriver.]

Sam, would you mind coming with me to my TARDIS -

[Wait. No TARDIS. He went to sleep in his TARDIS and woke up in Sam's bed, and only Rassilon knows where 'here' is in relation to the TARDIS. He pushes himself off the counter, suddenly irritated.]

Never mind you, how did I end up here? Last time I checked I wasn't anywhere near 1973.

[He looks around for his coat, and look, there it is, over the back of the other chair. Did he see it there before? Doesn't matter. He grabs it and shrugs it on.]

It was a great pleasure to meet you, Sam, but I gotta run. I need to get back to the TARDIS. Good luck with your [hand-wavy gesture] coma time travel - thing. And thanks for the tea!

[And he's on his way to the door. If Sam wants to stop him, he'll have to be quick.]

[Blimey, that's abrupt. Sam juggles his tea and almost drops it in his haste to turn and waylay the Doctor. He curses as some of it slops out onto his hand and vest, staining the fabric.]

Oi! Er, Doctor, wait. I- I can come with you, if you like. To look for the TARDIS. If you want to run tests or something... If that could help me get home-

[And that's definitely part of it, but another distinct part is getting to go inside the TARDIS!]

[His mind is already on trying to figure out how to find the TARDIS - he's got a Huon locator in his coat pocket; that should help, unfortunately the range is rather limited - when Sam's words interrupt his thought processes.]

What?

[Run tests? Why would he want to - oh right.]

Oh, uh, yeah. Why not, I guess.

[Really, he'd rather not have someone with him right now - company is one thing, being held up by random humans while trying to find the TARDIS is another - but if Sam wants to come with him, the Doctor can hardly stop him. Besides, those readings the screwdriver had given him had been rather odd; it might be worth taking a look.]

[He's seen more enthusiastic agreements in his life, frankly, but Sam doesn't let that put him off for long. He snags a shirt from the floor, pulling it on over his vest and buttoning it up as quick as he can, following that with his jacket. As he's doing this, a thought strikes him, a memory of watching Who as a boy, and he turns to the Doctor.]

If you've got a... bollocks, what was it called? A binary induction plasma displacement detector. That ought to be able to pick up the TARDIS, shouldn't it?

[He takes his pistol from the shelf next to the door, tucking it into an inner pocket, and holding the door open for the Doctor.]

((OOC: The Doctor used this device to locate the TARDIS in 'Keeper of Traken,'))

[Sam's eager, the Doctor has to give him that. He's rarely seen anyone buttoning their shirt any quicker than that. It's kind of fascinating to watch, but when Sam speaks, the Doctor's attention is thoroughly distracted. How would Sam know - oh right. That show on the telly.]

Blimey. You're a real fan, aren't you? [It's not like he's prone to using the displacement detector on a regular basis. He uses it hardly ever, if fact. Which is why he doesn't have it on him; it's probably still in the pocket of the coat his Forth liked to wear.] Haven't got it with me, sorry to say.

[And his attention is distracted yet again. A gun? Suddenly he's even less enthusiastic about the thought of Sam coming with him; the one thing he's always appreciated about the British police force is that they don't make their members carry firearms on a regular basis.]

Oi. If you want to come with me, you're leaving that. [He gestures at Sam's pocket.]

[His lips twist when the Doctor comments wryly about his being a real fan. Yeah, well. He's not one of those fans, but the name had popped up in his head, so hell, why not? He shrugs. When a frown creases his forehead, though, Sam almost bristles again. It's mostly irritation at himself; because way to go, Sam, doing the one thing that's sure to endear you to the Doctor. It honestly hadn't occurred to him, though, mere habit engendered from the amount of times it's been a necessity. His brows go up for a moment in slight surprise.]

Oh, right, sorry. Christ, Gene Hunt must be getting to me

[And that's the gun back on the shelf and Sam cocking a faintly sardonic eyebrow at the Doctor.]

Anything else?

[Oh, and that expression is just uncanny. He frowns.]

You look a lot like someone I know. Stop reminding me of him in other ways.

[Cryptic Doctor is cryptic. But he doesn't care, it wasn't really a comment meant for Sam to actually understand. The Doctor just needed to express the fact that this resemblance is maybe creeping him out a tiny little bit.]

[Since he doesn't expect an answer, he doesn't wait for one, and pushes past Sam, heading down the corridor to his left. He doesn't really know where he's going, but finding his way out of this house sounds like a good way to start.]

[It's somewhere between faintly insulting and faintly hurtful, being frowned at like that by the Doctor, but Sam shrugs it off.]

Well. I'll do my best, [he mutters wryly, but the Doctor's off out the door at a stride before he has any chance to hear Sam. Not that he'd really intended him to hear in the first place. Sam steps out after him, calling down the corridor.]

Doctor? Um, stairs are that way.

[Right. Yes, they would be, since he's discovering that they're quite obviously not this way.]

[He turns and follows Sam down the stairs and outside. He's concentrating, reaching out with his mind, trying to find that familiar connection that will tell him which way to go to find the TARDIS. There's something there, but it's too far away to be of any help.]

[He stops for a moment, trying to decide which way to go, when he remembers something.]

Sam! Is there some place nearby where I could get electronic bits and pieces? Radios, old television sets, toasters, anything like that?

[He's got a Stattenheim core in his inner coat pocket. With a little luck, he might be able to put together a Stattenheim remote control.]

[The Doctor's coat flaps behind him as they make their way down the stairs, and Sam finds himself grinning despite himself. Even if the Doctor seems to have decided he doesn't like Sam much, this is bloody fantastic.]

[They dodge past one of his neighbours- an elderly woman who looks so much a cliche it's faintly ridiculous- and through the doors to the street outside. It's cool, with a slight breeze, and Sam squints down in the street in the same direction as the Doctor. He looks up sharply when the other man says his name.]

Um, yeah. Yeah, there's a junk shop a couple of streets over; here, this way.

[He gives the Doctor a little jerk of the head, peering down the street before setting off across it at a neat stride.]

[He follows Sam down the street, digging in his pocket for the Stattenheim core. He needs to clean those out, no really. This is getting ridiculous.]

[Sam's a few steps ahead, and the Doctor watches him through slightly narrowed eyes. He doesn't really know what to make of him; the stories Sam told and the fact that he apparently knows the Doctor - from a TV show, no less - seem so improbable. And then there's the fact that he looks like the Master. It's all a bit too strange to shrug it off as mere quirks of the universe.]

[The Doctor does feel a little bad about snapping at Sam, though. Sam doesn't seem like the type to be the head of any conspiracies; he seems as confused by all this as the Doctor. Taking a couple of quick steps, the Doctor comes up beside Sam.]

So, does this happen to you often? People from the telly showing up in your bed?

[It's not meant to sound condescending. The Doctor's just curious.]

[The junk shop a few streets down, will, in a decade or so, become the DIY store Sam worked at during his gap year, and, astoundingly, it's somehow more rubbish now than it was then. Or than it will be. Whatever. Either way, he knows the way well enough that he hardly has to think about where he's going, and he can practically feel the Doctor's eyes on the back of his head. It's slightly unnerving.]

[When the footsteps behind him speed up for a moment, and suddenly the Doctor's next to him, looking over at him curiously, Sam gives him a little eyebrow.]

Reckon if it happened to me often, I'd have handled it a bit better.

[Of course, there's one person from the telly who does routinely show up in his flat, but the Doctor doesn't need to know about her. Sam knows she's nothing but a hallucination.]

This could prove to be interesting.

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