When Writer's Block Turns Bad

Eponine had pretty much come to terms with the weirdness of meeting a time traveller. Of course, due to the lack of knowledge on these matters of her era, she didn't really understand the concept very well anyway, but what she did understand, she had come to terms with. After all, it was a least a lot more interesting than anything else she had ever experienced.

"Nooooo!" came a sudden shriek from the other end of the TARDIS. "The monsters! They've wrecked my ship! It'd damaged! How could they?!"

Eponine raised an eyebrow. She didn't know that a voice could go that high whilst still retaining its volume.

"What's wrong, Monsieur Doctor?"

The Doctor surveyed the damaged TARDIS. "This is Johnny Depp's doing," he muttered. "He's sabotaged my ship! Of course, I didn't realize this rather obvious fact until this chapter..."

"Monsieur?"

"Um, I don't know why I said that. It's probably the Author projecting thoughts into my head through telepathy... wait! That's it!" With that, he placed his hands on his temples and assumed a look of utmost concentration. Or, at least, that's what Eponine decided it must be. Either that or he was choking.

There was a particularly long silence. Finally, Eponine broke it.

"Monsieur Doctor... you're not choking, are you?"

"Quiet! I'm trying to contact the author telepathically!" He continued to concentrate.

Eponine shrugged. Then, a note dropped down from the ceiling. There is probably no logical way that it could have appeared there; this author is merely using the force of Plot Convenience to make it appear.

The Doctor laughed. "I was right!"

"Dear thwarted friends [he read],

No need to stop breathing in an attempt to contact me - I'm here. I see that Johnny and Mr. Blobby have ruined the TARDIS. Never mind, Doctor, you fix it easily, if given the time and the help of a sonic screwdriver.

"However, we need to create that time, as we can't afford to waste a minute. Luckily, I have thought of a solution. It may be bending the rules a little, but I doubt it will harm anything. I have brought les amis de l'ABC to the Peace Hall in Halifax, where Depp and Blobby will shortly be traveling to, to find a Tourist Information Center. The students are under instructions to hinder them in any way possible.

"This will buy you time to fix the TARDIS. Hurry - I can't let Lizzie gain an advantage!

"However, I cannot be held responsible for any damage that the amis cause to Halifax. After all, when you bring a group of revolutionaries to Halifax, you can't really expect anything but utter chaos and possibly an attempted insurrection. They're under strict instructions to behave themselves, but I can't vouch for THAT promise's reliability...

"I remain, my friends, your obedient servent,

"E.B"

"Les amis!" exclaimed Eponine. "I know them - they're a group of students trying to overthrow the government. Monsieur Marius is friends with them!"

"I know," said the Doctor. "I'm a fan of Victor Hugo, actually."

"Who?"

"Never mind. Right - I'm going to repair the TARDIS!"

"I'll help."

"Excellent!" The Doctor opened a hatch on the floor of the TARDIS and climbed in to survey the extent of the damage. He winced. "Pass me that chrono-charged navigational metal wonky thing, would you?"

********************************************

There was a flash of light, and a pile of disorientated students appeared in the Peace Hall. They picked themselves up off the ground and gazed around blearily.

For those of you who do not know about les amis, here is a description of them. First, there is the leader, Enjolras: the Fearless Leader, blond, stern, utterly dedicated to overthrowing the government, called 'Apollo' by his friends. Then Combeferre, Enjolras' right hand man, the philosophical one, who wishes for peace more than any of the other amis. Next, Courfeyrac: charming, a joker, the center of the group. Joly, a hypochondriac, is constantly imagining that he has contracted some fatal disease. Feuilly, the penniless fan maker; Laigle: bald, chronically unlucky, nicknamed Bossuet; Jehan Prouvaire, the poet. Finally, there is Grantaire, a drunken skeptic, despised by Enjolras.

"This," said Enjolras, brushing dust off himself, "Is a travesty. We are dragged from planning a revolution which will change history, handcuffed and ordered to perform tasks for this Author... by the way, where is Bahorel?"

This author chose not to include Bahorel (another revolutionary) in her story. He wasn't in the musical anyway. Also, Marius wasn't there either, but he isn't technically a member of the ABC society...

"My friends," said Combeferre, interrupting Enjolras' rant, "The sooner we finish this task, the sooner we can get back to our own time and -"

"-continue planning to kill ourselves?" This came from Grantaire, who was, per usual, Comically Drunk.

"Silence, Winecask," said Enjolras, accompanying this with one of his Poisonous Glares, specifically reserved for Grantaire.

"Anyway," said Courfeyrac. "We may as well do what we were asked to."

"Before I catch some awful modern illness..." mourned Joly.

The amis headed towards the Tourist Information center. Jehan, Enjolras, Combeferre and Feuilly set various traps around the building. The author will not go into any details about these traps, as Lizzie's spies could be anywhere, and she does not want to lose the element of surprise...

Meanwhile, the others set about collecting all of the leaflets and hiding them. Again, for the reason explained above, the author will not go into details about where the leaflets were hidden. Suffice to say that the students performed their duties.

When they were finished, they reassembled and waited to be taken back to their own time. And then waited some more.

Finally, Enjolras looked up and addressed the sky angrily. "Send us back! We've done what you asked - we need to go back home! Some of us have a revolution to plan!"

"I bet we're going to stay here forever," said Grantaire. "I wonder if they sell absinthe...?"

"Shut up, Winecask, you're not helping."

There was a loud crashing noise. The amis looked up hopefully, but then realized it was only Laigle.

"Um... sorry... how important are windows exactly? I sort of... accidentally broke... five of them."

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "Someone return us to our own time before Bossuet breaks the entire building!"

A voice came down from the sky. "All RIGHT! God, you're so impatient! Did you do what I asked you to?"

"Everything," supplied Prouvaire.

"Excellent! Now nothing can stop the Doctor and Eponine! I'd like to see Lizzie get out of this!" The voice decended into evil laughter.

After about ten minutes of manic laughter, the voice spoke again. "Right, I'm sending you back now, good luck with the revolution... though I don't hold out much hope for your survival. Sorry. It's really sad, actually... and the only one who survives is Marius, the one we don't like as much as the rest of you!"

The amis couldn't understand most of what she said. In fact, considering they were French, it was surprising that they understood anything she said, but that is merely another example of the power of Plot Convenience.

After a few seconds, the students disappeared back to their own time.

************************************

The Doctor looked up from the machinery he was working on. "I'm done! It should be working now!"

Eponine was astonished. She had reisgned herself to hours more of listening to the Doctor spout incomprehensible technical jargon, or ask her to find him some obscure item of machinery.

The Doctor headed towards the control panel, and began turning dials and pressing buttons, presumably programming the TARDIS to take them to the moon.

"Just one more button to press," he announced. "One more, and then we'll be on the moon! Wait till you see it, Eponine - it's amazing. You can see the Earth from up there..."

Eponine smiled. Mon deui, this man was strange, but she liked him.

The Doctor grinned and pressed the button. The familiar sound of fingernails scraping a blackboard played backwards filled the TARDIS.

Except... it didn't move.

"Um... Monsieur? Was that supposed to happen?"

The Doctor, not replying, opened the TARDIS door. Sure enough, they were still in the tedious green room.

"I don't understand... I'm sure I fixed the astronomical drive... it couldn't be anything else..."

Eponine examined the blue box. "Wait," she said. "Look."

The Doctor followed her gaze to the bottom of the TARDIS. It was coated in a sticky white substance. He knelt down and dipped a finger in it, which he examined, sniffed and tentatively tasted.

"Glue," was his verdict. "Eponine? We may have a problem. I think we could be here for just a little longer..."

Eponine sighed. It was nothing she hadn't already expected.