DALEK WEEK 2015
VII. CHICKEN
TOKYO, 1983
Their second day in Tokyo, the Middies hold a signing in the conference room at their hotel.  "Clart and rubbish," in Jaspert's opinion, and Deryn tends to agree with him, but they have a surprising amount of Japanese fans, and the label charges five pounds an autograph – more if you want a personal message along with it.  Even more if you want your photo snapped with the band.  They also sell records and tour t-shirts and studio photos and keychains and every other bloody thing you can imagine.
It's not very punk, but it does make a sodding pile of money.
Deryn sits at the table with her two remaining bandmates and signs everything in front of her.  She smiles at the fans and flashes obscene gestures on demand in the photos.  She laughs when Newkirk manages to tip his chair over.
Anything's better than thinking about Alek.
He'd left the plane without a word to her or Newkirk and Jaspert.  As far as she

DALEK WEEK 2015
VI. LIES
TOKYO, 1983
Despite everything, Deryn had fallen asleep on the plane, and now she wakes to the stewardess politely informing the passengers that they're due to land, and would everyone please return to their seats and fasten their seatbelts?
She knows it's daft, but she looks around for Alek.  He's sitting in his seat, staring at the window, face turned deliberately away from her.  Still, from what she can see, he looks furious… but also hurt.
Her heart sinks.  I did that, she thinks.  And now she's going to put it right.
In the seat beside her, Jaspert pokes her shoulder and leans over to murmur into her ear, "Newkirk's in."
She gives him a smile, then catches Newkirk's eye and smiles at him, too, when he flashes an enthusiastic thumbs-up.  The sting in her heart eases a bit.  Her bandmates are brilliant.
It'd been Jaspert who kept her from bolting after Alek – "Don't make a scene in the air," he'd said,

DALEK WEEK 2015
V. WORLD TOUR
EN ROUTE TO TOKYO, 1983
They'd driven to Geneva, almost wholly at night.  Small, winding roads, through the forests and mountains, meandering across farmland that appeared as a darker space against the starry sky.  Volger had occupied the front passenger seat, navigating with flashlight and map; Alek had frequently spelled Klopp behind the wheel, as the old man had neither the eyesight nor the stamina for such a long trip.
At the time, Alek had thought it cramped, tedious, and dull.  It's far worse, he's finding, to make long journeys by plane.
For one thing, first class notwithstanding, he hasn't much more room now than he did in the car.  For another, he had some control in the car.  Aboard the plane, he is entirely helpless.
Beside him, Bauer snores and twitches in his sleep.  Alek sighs.  Perhaps if he was sitting with Dylan, this would be more tolerable.  But his friend is seated several rows away, next t

Okaaaay next theme in Dalek week is “Toys” so it's time to make Deryn a blushing, crying mess HAHAHA
“Okay, Deryn. In. Out. In. Out.”
Deryn was hiding in her room, her face pale as snow and tears streaming down her face. She was hugging a small, orange ragdoll cat with blue button eyes. Her jacket was slightly burned, and her hands were shaking. She tried to face her fear, without success. What happened, you ask? She got trapped in a room, surrounded by a wall of fire. Luckily, she managed to kick the door open. But she was still blinded by fear. Fire was her only fear since her father died. Some knocking on the door could be heard now.
“Deryn, please, let me in.” a male voice said. Some soft whimpering was audible too.
“Go away!” Deryn sobbed, but the door swung open, revealing a rather short boy with brown hair, freckles and green eyes. A wee beastie crawled in the room and climbed up Deryn’s shoulders, making soft clicking

DALEK WEEK 2015
IV. TOYS
ISTANBUL, 1983
"May I see it, please, Dylan?" Alek asks, perfectly polite as always.  
Deryn looks down at her guitar, then at Alek.  They've been marooned in the hotel while Jaspert and Newkirk go out and have fun – the sort of fun that usually results in hangovers and stories about crazed groupies.  It's their last night in Istanbul, the argument goes; they deserve it.  
Deryn disagrees.  But no one sodding listens to her.
Anyway, she can think of worse things than being left alone with Alek, even though she hasn't got up the nerve to tell him the truth.  And he'd been dead keen to mess about with music, have a wee jam session right there in the Middies' hotel suite.
But she hadn't got any farther than looping her head through the strap and grabbing her pick when he stopped her with the question.
"Aye, I suppose," she says, unslinging the instrument.  "Careful, though."
He handles it carefully indeed; the