TIMEBOY
a one-shot story by Astrolinium
8 June, 1974Caspian's eyes shot wide open. They positively shined -
this was a plot twist for the ages. The Doctor
was returning for Sarah Jane, he was! There it was, the TARDIS, right there on his TV in his living room, in full color! Oh, this was going to be so excit-
Something was wrong. The eleven-year-old could tell, because he was eleven, and eleven-year-olds know what sick people look like.
"Oh no!" shouted the young boy as Jon Pertwee fell to the ground. He'd grabbed a couch pillow and was currently clutching it against his chest. He tried not to cry, because that's what the Doctor had said. Don't cry. Don't cry. But the Doctor, he was -
Caspian swallowed and looked up at his father.
"Daddy, how can they kill the Doctor!? That means no more
Doctor Who!"
A wry smile on the older man's face, Theodore Lawrence put an arm around his boy and said, "Just watch, son. I don't think this episode is over quite yet."
"Not dead!?" Caspian shouted excitedly. The bowl of crisps - he and his father would always put a bag of crisps into a bowl when they watched
Doctor Who - was knocked onto the floor, but neither of the two watching the show really cared. Caspian's eyes were just as wide as they'd been when he'd heard the TARDIS noise. A new man? But how! Why, the Doctor had been Jon Pertwee as long as he could remember. Or had it? He knew he'd been watching the show since he was quite small, but he hadn't
really gotten into it until about... 1972ish? He'd been about nine or thereabouts, and Jon Pertwee had been the Doctor back then too. As Pertwee was quite old, it was only logical to assume that he'd always been the...
Caspian jumped again. The Doctor's face
had changed!
"Daddy! How can they have a different Doctor!?" he demanded.
Theodore smiled again and said, "Well, you see, son, the Doctor is a Time Lord. And when a Time Lord's body gets worn out - as tends to happen from time to time..."
And so father and son spent the night discussing
Doctor Who, and young Caspian Lawrence began something of an obsession with the show.
13 October, 1977"...that, that... what was that metal dog thing called?"
"K-9, Lawrence, K-9."
"Yeah, well, I want one. I don't think a K-9 would shit on the carpet."
Caspian was fourteen years old now. He was sitting in the library with his best friend, Andrew Donaldson, who was Scottish. Both of them wore their boring St. Pettigrew's uniforms, though Caspian wore a scarf to battle the "relentless bite of the October cold". It had been knit by his mum, and it was twelve feet long. I shouldn't need to describe it further, considering the background knowledge you already have.
Suddenly, the two were interrupted by a much smaller voice.
"Excuse me, but could you help me find where the keep
The Hobbit?"
Caspian looked at the young boy, who was smallish and blond. He raised an eyebrow and said, "Do I look like a librarian to you?"
"No, but-"
"Then piss off."
"-but the librarian isn't
in!" declared the boy in a harsh whisper.
Caspian leaned in. The boy couldn't have been more than 12. He said, "Is that so?"
The boy nodded.
"Well, I'll tell you where you can find
The Hobbit if you can answer me a question first."
The boy nodded again more vigorously. "Sure!"
"Tell me, without looking it up, who was Prime Minister at the turn of the century?"
The boy's face was, in Caspian's opinion, priceless.
Stammering, the young one said, "But... but... we haven't learned that yet! Not fair!"
Caspian leaned back in his chair. "Not fair? Life's not fair. Isn't that so, Donaldson?"
Andrew nodded sagely, trying to keep from cracking up. "I think so, Lawrence."
"I suppose if you want to find that book, you'd better guess."
"Um... umm... I dunno, Gladstone!"
Andrew made a farting noise with his mouth and said, "I don't think that's right, Lawrence, do you?"
"No, Donaldson, I don't. Sorry, squirt, it was Salisbury. Can't believe you didn't know that, you little idiot. Now, really, piss off. Oh, don't give me that look, your face will get stuck that way and then I'll never hear the end of it from your mum Saturday night when I make my conquests in the name of Her Majesty."
The kid looked like he might cry - clearly, he was new and had lived a very sheltered life at home - and ran off.
Turning back to Andrew, Caspian said, "So, Donaldson, as I was saying about this K-9 thing..."
18 August, 1980The plane was going down. There was, understandably, mass panic. Caspian had often wished the Doctor were real, but now he wished it more than he ever had before. After all, he was in a crashing plane over the ocean.
They were all going to die.
The aircraft hit water and there was an awful noise. It was the end of the world, or at least the end of Caspian's world. Well, you know, he had always wanted to meet his maker... there were quite a few improvements he thought could be made to the world, and clearly prayer was not working as a method of communication.
Then he felt something incredibly hot. The pain was awful, burning, searing, roasting, frying. He was pretty sure every single atom in his body had been tugged in a completely different direction, lopped off, and then put back together. But that whoever had done this hadn't gotten everything
quite right.
And, well, he wasn't too far off from the truth. But he didn't know that, because he was busy - he'd just blacked out.
His body would never be found in the wreckage.
23 May, 2030Caspian's eyes shot wide open.
Posted: Tue Feb 26, 2013 6:54 pm
