Chapter Text
New York growls at my window. But I was ready for it.
My stocking seams were straight, my lipstick was combat-ready, and I was packing cleavage that could fell an ox at 20 feet.
My name is Melody Malone. This is a clever lie, of course.
But one, having seen the things I’ve seen, must learn to remain well hidden.
I’ve got ice on my heart, a kiss on my lips and a vulnerable side I keep well hidden.
Almost as well hidden as my name.
I was ready for an adventure. I had been requested about two weeks ago. A man named Sam Gardner, who was a private detective like myself. He had a case for me. A case that, as he described it, was unlike anything he’s ever seen before. I would have to let go of how I saw the world before. I would have to believe in the impossible. Lucky for you, I told him, I believe in the impossible. How could I not? After the things I’ve seen.
And so I came to New York, searching for an adventure. I had been working on the case for two weeks now with little progress, until that rainy evening.
My heels clicked on the New York streets. The honking of cars was audible in the distance. New York was, even in 1938, a very busy city. A city that never sleeps.
As I strolled through the quieter streets of the famous city, I hid my stunning figure in a tall rain coat. Underneath it I wore a gorgeous sparkling black dress, that showed off my curves in all the right ways. My heels were high, higher than they should be, for a seemingly unarmed woman walking by herself in the middle of New York.
One might say I was asking for it.
My hands were buried deep in the pockets of my raincoat. Placed fashionably on top of my head was a fedora, the exact colour of my coat.
Underneath it were my gorgeous blonde curls, now neatly tamed into the fashion that was accustomed for New York in this day and age.
Nonetheless, I looked attractive.
I always did pull off a nice vintage look.
I walked across the New York streets with much confidence.
New York is a dangerous place. Even in my grey raincoat I seemed to attract attention. Maybe it was the heels. Or perhaps the hat.
I pranced royally, when suddenly in the corner of my eye I spotted them.
Two men dressed in black had been following me for a few blocks now, silently whispering something about what surely would be my possible demise.
They attempted to be discreet, but I have had my fair share of stalkers to know when I was being followed. The two men kept hidden in the shadows. One was taller than the other. They were dressed in long coats and a hat, attempting to remain anonymous.
I picked up my pace. Not because I was scared, but simply because I was eager to know more about the men. Who hired them? Why did they want me? My brain rattled with questions. I took another turn, then. I was already thinking of a wonderful plan to disarm them. One that would leave me without a scratch, and would leave them surely unconscious.
As I crossed the street, I saw the thin guy. But he didn’t see me. I guess that’s how it began.
I followed the skinny guy for two more blocks before he turned, and I could ask exactly what he was doing here. He looked a little scared so I gave him my best smile and my bluest eyes.
“I just went to get coffee for the Doctor and Amelia.” He responded. Confused? You might be. Not as confused as he himself was at that very moment. He was clearly puzzled to see me. That much was clear. But the skinny guy appeared to be looking around himself. As if he had gotten somewhere yet hadn’t got a clue as to how he got there in the first place. He wasn’t dressed like the rest of us. 21st century wardrobe, I quickly noted. In his hand he had a coffee tray of a famous coffee place that didn’t exist yet, and wasn’t to be invented for many years. Oh, yes, I thought. 21st century undoubtedly.
“Hello.” I uttered, making myself known to the man.
“Where am I? How the hell did I get here?” He looked scared now. Possibly trembling when he noticed the two hitmen approaching us in an intimidating manner.
The skinny guy’s name was Rory. I knew him well, and he knew me. By a different alias, of course. But that is a secret between him and me.
It was as much of a mystery to me as it apparently was to him as to why he appeared on this exact spot.
“I haven’t the faintest idea. But you’ll probably want to put your hands up.”
Rory dropped the coffee tray then. It spilled on the New York streets as he turned around, his arms up now, and undoubtedly trembling. It was then that he first noticed the two men that had followed me for a couple of blocks now. They didn’t say much. They weren’t the kind who talked much-or at all, really. They pointed their guns at us. Whoever hired the hitmen must have known me very well. After all, he didn’t just send one hitman like any other would have.
No, he sent two of his finest men. If I wasn’t being held at gunpoint I would feel honored.
“Melody Malone?” The tallest man asked.
“You’re Melody?” Rory looked behind him then, back at me. It was as if he forgot the gun being pointed at him for a mere second.
The name was strange on his lips. He knew me well. Very well, indeed. Yet the name was new to him.
“Get in.” The gun was being pressed against my tall raincoat now, and I could feel it prickling in my skin. A sound of a car hitting the brakes suddenly roused the night air. It stopped right in front of us. One inch closer and it would’ve hit us.
Most cars in New York were black, but some are blacker than the rest. This one, for instance, had tinted windows. Perfect if you wanted to be unrecognizable. Or, in this case, if you had unwilling passengers in the back of your car.
“What is going on?” Rory asked, still appearing to be in a state of confusion. I asked him what year it was for him. He responded with a raised brow. “April. 2011. How can the date be different now? I just went to get coffee, and-“
I looked at him. How scared he looked. Unlike myself. I was very good at keeping my emotions hidden. And of course, I rarely got scared. Haven’t got the time. And I’ve seen far too many things in my life to have any fear left.
“April 3rd, 1938.” I said. Not to him, but to the universe.
“You didn’t come here by your usual way of transportation I presume.” I told him.
“Why?”
“You couldn’t have.”
I looked at him, underneath the fedora that was stylishly placed on top of my head. My blue eyes appeared dark underneath it.
“This city’s full of time-distortions. It’d be impossible to land the TARDIS here, like trying to land a plane in a blizzard. Even I couldn’t do it.”
As you might’ve guessed by now, I was indeed talking about a time machine. My brain was rattling with possibilities as to how Rory could have possibly travelled back in time by himself.
“Well, how did YOU get here?”
“Vortex manipulator.” I showed him the cuff on my wrist. The machine had come in handy quite a few times now. At this point I had been in New York for two weeks. I’d been hired as a private detective, to solve a mystery unlike any other.
“Less bulky than a TARDIS. Like a motorbike through traffic. You?”
“I’m... not sure.”
My eyebrows raised, but I didn’t ask any further questions. I had a suspicion of what exactly had transported Rory to 1938, yet I hoped that for once I wasn’t right.