Doctor Who: An Ocean Of Time [Closed]

[Krystal Itzume]

The plan was established, at least plan A. There would have to be other plans, or at least preparations for other plans. Yes, thousands of plans. Any number of things could happen, after all, but right now it was time to leave the library.

The phone received another message.

Whatever.
You better explain the reason for being so weird.

Dixon was interested, but the oddness of his friend was enough to be convincing.

A second was added.

If you’re in trouble or something, I mean, if that strange dude is threatening you, let me know.

The thought that strange-threatening-dude might be monitoring text messages did not occur to him at that moment, though seconds after it was sent Dixon did want to slap himself. All he could do was let out a frustrated noise and draw the eyes of his classmates.

No Dixon would be in the apartment. The Doctor and Donovan were able to avoid that hassle and the Doctor stepped in. He nodded his acknowledgment of where the loo was, but first went to the coffee table. He picked up one of the books, flipped through it. “Interesting,” he commented to himself, hearing another set of keys jingle. He flipped it shut quickly, turned around to face the man.

He was smiling, almost unbelieving, “You’re taking this all rather well,” no panic attacks, no emotional outbursts, just simple going along with it all. It interested him. He was used to having lots of questions asked by now. Or shouted at him, as the case sometimes was. Or he’d be slapped by now. This one was just playing along to the beat, going with the flow, as it were. He was doing quite an admirable job of it.

[Bleu]

The texts came, and they made Donovan feel better and worse at the same time. Better because it looked like he had convinced his friend to stay away from the statue, and worse because now he had left him worried on his behalf. He wished he could make him realize that he would be fine – but this texting back and forth would take forever. A call was not an option – Donovan couldn’t handle a call in that moment. That would be a bad idea. He wondered, though. Was Dixon right to worry? I mean, Donovan wasn’t exactly guaranteed safety, was he?

I’m alright. I’ll call you later.

The Doctor’s voice interrupted Donovan’s thoughts. Donovan’s movement seemingly interrupted the Doctor’s, for he snapped his physics book shut and flipped around to see him. He seemed amused, as if this was an everyday worry of his. He was smiling at him – almost like he was admiring him. Was he that amused by how Donovan carried on with everyday life?

Of course, this wasn’t everyday life for Donovan. It was…rather strange, actually. Donovan was certain that it wasn’t a dream, too. 

Donovan let himself laugh, even though the situation was not at all amusing. “I don’t think it’d be appropriate for me to freak out about now,” he said. It wouldn’t, and he wouldn’t.  “There will be plenty of time for that when we deal with this Weeping Angel. I assume that people usually freak out on you then, huh?”

He wasn’t surprised.

He waited for the Doctor to finish up – if he chose to go to the loo – before he opened the door and led them out. “So you’re the Doctor?” Don asked as they moved from the apartment to the parking lot. “Just the Doctor? There’s no name to go with that?”

Did he even have a name? Was he just not sharing it? He couldn’t ask him these questions in front of Christine, because he was unsure if the Doctor truly trusted her. Donovan didn’t trust her completely, which was strange because he trusted the Doctor. Something about him just made it easy. He would use this time they had together to ask him the things that he had been wondering.

“Is Gallifrey where you’re from?”

He didn’t know why he asked that, or why the name came to him so suddenly. He just had to ask. Donovan knew that the Doctor was so much bigger than he let on, and his wonder came across in his question. Where exactly did the Doctor come from?

[Krystal Itzume]

Donovan’s mindset was one made for efficiency, a good, scholar’s mind. Determined to push through the struggles, and deal with the emotions after the fact. Yes, he’d survive writing endless papers. He’d survive this challenge, too. “Oh, I’ve been slapped a time, or two, or five,” the Doctor said as way of answering about people freaking out.

Keys in place, Doctor didn’t go check in the loo but followed Donovan out. He let the man lock the door and tried to adjust his hands. He put them in the blazer pockets, but soon found that wasn’t comfortable enough. The pockets weren’t large enough for his hands, so he decided to just hang his thumbs in them. ‘Hmmm.’ Not quite right. It’d do for now.

Questions, questions. “Just the Doctor.” There was a name, but he didn’t tell that name to anyone. Well, a few people. Everyone who had known it from Gallifrey was dead now. His smile was one of longing as the man asked about his home. “Gallifrey was my home.” It couldn’t be any longer. He had more or less adopted England, it seemed, though. He ought to visit some other places on Earth more often. America, Brazil, China, Japan—there was still so much to see and do, wasn’t there?

He’d never get enough of living. “Pretty place, horrible politics—but I suppose everyone has that complaint. Those who were shamed there were told to cover their faces like the Weeping Angels, you know,” he added the tidbit as a way to get back on topic. “Not that the angels are ashamed, of course, just trying not to get caught in a quantum lock. But we need to make sure that happens. Mirrors, yes? Christine said she’d take care of it, but we should be prepared and get some small ones, I think. I’m not sure actually how the Angel would deal with a small mirror.” He supposed it would be rather like photos. They’d find a way out. They always did. Might break the mirror just because of the size factor.

[Bleu]

They arrived at the parking lot, and Donovan used the buttons on his keys to open the truck from far away. It was a new truck, large enough to fit the statue. It looked like it had hardly been used, and it hadn’t. A handful of times since he had arrived he’d found a use for the truck. A screen of slight dust had settled over the truck, obscuring its elegant beige color lightly. With two quick beeps, the doors unlocked. 

When the Doctor answered the question about his home, Donovan knew that strong memories revolved around it. The Doctor’s expression was a smile, but there was sadness in it, something that could not be properly described in words. It was an emotion that came from within, with age and reflection. No, to understand that emotion, one must have felt it. Lived it. Don almost regretted asking the question. The Doctor did not say much on it, finding it easy to switch the topic back to the Weeping Angels.

‘He is clever,’ thought Donovan, slipping into the front seat.

If he didn’t want to share his memories of Gallifrey, Donovan would not ask him again. Even  the thought of the Doctor being from a different world was just a simple fact, not something that altered Donovan’s opinion of the man.

The car’s engine was turned on, and it rumbled only momentarily. The truck still had that ‘new car’ smell.

“We can go to the plaza from here,” said Donovan, realizing that Christine was supposed to get the mirrors. Would she, though? He wasn’t sure. He was not in a position to suggest much, for it was the Doctor who knew best how to deal with the Angels. “I’ll help you with whatever you want, Doctor. If you want mirrors, we’ll get mirrors.”

Would he help the Doctor with whatever?

He wanted to. Donovan really wanted to help the Doctor – for him, not for anyone else. He couldn’t say why, for Donovan didn’t know himself.

[Krystal Itzume]

Ah, a truck! The Doctor didn’t ride in nearly enough ‘present’ vehicles. He’d been in lots of space ships, but not nearly enough cars. He hopped right into the passenger’s seat and stretched out his legs, just to test it. He looked around, examined the buttons, the one that made the window go up and down. He adjusted that one until he was comfortable with some of the wind blowing over his hair. ‘So short.’ Had to be fixed. He had such pretty ginger hair now, he might as well have a lot of it.

The car smelled nice. He couldn’t place the scent, didn’t see one of those ridiculous pine tree things. He didn’t see a hulu girl, either. ‘Aww.’ He liked some clichés. “Plaza, is that what the place with the angel is called?” He asked, but declined that idea with a shake of his head. “Mirrors first. Just some small ones, ones we can easily hold in one hand,” he explained, hoping it shouldn’t take long to find a place where those could be acquired. “You don’t have to be so enthusiastic, though,” he noted casually.

It was good Donovan wanted to be so helpful. It certainly made things easier, but it also worried the Doctor. Helpful people always worried him. Helpful people were always the first to put themselves at risk, to die for him or his causes. He didn’t want Donovan to die. He didn’t want anyone to.

‘Now and then, every once in a very long while, every day in a million days, when the wind stands fair and the doctor comes to call...everybody lives.’

Those days needed to stop being so rare, really. He needed to get better at this Doctor job.

[Bleu]

Donovan smiled, but said nothing. What could he have said? That he couldn’t help himself? That there was something about it that made it seem like he needed to help? Perhaps it would be best if he just kept his uncontrolled opinions to himself– he was speaking without really thinking. Without understanding. It bothered him and he didn’t like it, but it couldn’t be helped. Donovan needed to get better at it, understanding the Doctor.

Little did he know that nothing he had ever encountered could ever be as deep or as complicated as the Doctor. The wonderful, widely admired, widely feared, Doctor. He would never fully understand him – no one ever did.

Did they?

“Campus Plaza, yeah – well, the Noble Courtyard, but everyone just calls it the Plaza.”

He placed the truck in reverse, and before long, they were on the road. They passed through the campus, and the plaza was already being closed off for the students. They were too far away to see if the statue had already been covered, though. They would have to wait until they had everything that they needed. Things were in motion, that much was clear.

“We can find mirrors in the convenience store, I think.” He looked at the mirrors in his car constantly, and when he found an opening, he parked in one of the local superstores.

The engine fell still, and Donovan was quick to unlock the doors and lock them back up before going into the store. The horn beeped behind him, a signal that the doors had indeed locked. The inside of the store was larger than he had expected, but very few people were shopping at that time. It took him a while before he found the mirrors, and even when he did, the selection was very limited. They didn’t sell anything bigger than his hand – which wasn’t small, actually.

He took the appropriate amount from the shelf, checked the back of his pants for his wallet, and then formed a line to pay. He had a decent amount of money in his account at all times, in case of an emergency. Paying for the mirrors would not be a problem at all.

“Let’s get this sucker,” said Donovan when he went back into the car, the mirrors neatly bagged and placed by his side.

The day was getting colder, as if a cold wind had come in from the North. Donovan did not want to think of it as foreshadowing, but the morning sky, which had been cloudless and beautiful, was now darkening. Clouds overcast, hiding them from any sunlight. It wasn’t the time of day, for it wasn’t the evening yet, but it was getting gloomier by the minute. He hoped that it was nothing, but he couldn’t remember this in the weather forecasts for the day.

The truck was parked in the student parking lot, adjacent to the Plaza.

Christine and the Weeping Angel should be waiting for them. He checked his phone before stepping out of the truck.

No messages.

[Krystal Itzume]

“Noble Courtyard?” He repeated, highly amused with the name, “Brilliant!” He laughed. Donna would have loved it. No, Donna would have slapped him. ‘Oi’. He could hear it, perfectly.

It was with happy memories of her in mind that they arrived at the store. The Doctor finally just kept his hands in his blazer pockets until they got to the mirrors. The Doctor had wanted these small, handheld things. They would be much easier to carry around. The Doctor helped to carry some of the mirrors and walked back with Donovan to the cash registers, where they were paid for, legitimately.

No paying with the left-over money from the ATM.

He really should return that somehow…well, something to think of later. Back to the truck, the mirrors were placed nicely inside it. A chill wind was blowing and the Doctor looked up. “Hum. A storm,” he mused to himself. He was unaware this hadn’t been in the forecast, or he might have worried more.

He was already worried, that sense that something was wrong nagging at him. He was very, very good at picking up on such things. They came to the parking lot, and the Doctor hopped out of the vehicle without a thought, and he jogged to where the statue should be.

There were people about. Apparently Dixon had chosen not to listen when the statue was called to be covered up. The Doctor didn’t immediately notice the queer shape underneath the cloth that the angel couldn't have possibly be made, but called out to Dixon, “Oi,” and he frowned. No. Not his word. He needed a word. “You there, Dixon.”

Dixon looked at him. He looked around, must have caught sight of Donovan because his expression relaxed, “What is going on here?” He motioned to the statue.

“Oh, issues, you know, wasn’t finished. Have you seen Christine?” He inquired.

Dixon shook his head. He hadn’t seen Christine recently. He’d just gotten out of class and there was all this talk about the statue being covered up. He had to come see, despite the texts.

[Bleu]

Donovan made sure to grab the mirrors before exiting the truck and locking it. The sky was getting darker, and the day was getting colder. When he jogged to catch up with the Doctor, he caught sight of Dixon. His stomach tensed as soon as he saw him, nervous and upset that his friend had decided to go near the statue despite being told not to. What was he doing here? Donovan knew that he couldn’t force him to do anything, but he had been so relieved that he had said he wouldn’t go near it. Yet here he was, right in front of him.

“Mate,” said Donovan, not being able to prevent a smile, “I thought you were going to stay away. What are you doing here?”

The thing was that the statue wasn’t there. Sure, something was covered up where the statue ought to be, but Donovan was almost certain that it wasn’t the statue they were looking for. It was not the same dimensions, could it even be of a different material?

Apparently Christine was nowhere to be found, which didn’t really surprise the scholar. Donovan fetched his phone from his pockets, nothing still. He turned to look at the Doctor, who didn’t seem too concerned about her not being around. Or at least not as concerned as he should be.

“Doctor,” said he gently, “I don’t think that’s our statue.” Donovan pointed to the statue before turning to Dixon. “You should go home, Dixon. Nothing to see here – why don’t you go to my place? You can have anything from the fridge,” he teased, hoping that this lame attempt of getting Dixon out of there without much explanation would work.

It was nice to see he was okay, though. If only he could just go home, he would stay safe that way.

[Krystal Itzume]

Dixon looked at Donovan as if he should have known better. “You start talking about not going near the new statue, and you really think I’m gonna stay away?” Especially after it got covered up. He wanted to know what was going on, it was as obvious as if he’d said it.

It was when Donovan pointed out that the statue might not be right that the Doctor frowned. “Hm?” He hadn’t take note of it right then, but now that he looked—no, that couldn’t be the shape. He walked right to the cloth through the various students standing about and wondering why it was covered again.

He pulled the cloth. Cardboard. A pile of cardboard. “Uh oh.” It had moved. How had it moved? There were students everywhere on this campus!

A quiet anger was building in him. He knew this was Christine’s doing. He didn’t want to believe it, still wanted to hope, but he knew better. ‘Oh, you humans! What did it tell you?’ He had to wonder what a Weeping Angel could say to get itself moved to a campus where it could eat at its leisure, rather than where it had been, rotting away in Bermuda.

Just as Donovan was telling Dixon there was nothing to see, the Doctor had pulled the cloth from the cardboard. Dixon looked to it, then he looked to Donovan, “Nothing to see, huh?” Free food was not captivating him as it usually did. “What the hell is going on, Don?”

“No time for that,” The Doctor was striding back towards them. “We have to find it. Or her. Either one. I guess they’re both ‘hers’….” Frown. Never mind genders.

“Where is the statue?”

“That’s what we’re going to find.” He wasn’t including Dixon in that idea.

“How does a statue just move like that?” There had been no indication of people trying to remove from the stand, no talk of that, it had just been covered...only now that was cardboard.

“It gets up and moves, of course.” In this case, that was the truth. The Doctor planned to step away, but his blazer was grabbed. “See, this is what I expect.”

“What the bloody hell is going on with this statue?” Dixon demanded, breathing through his mouth now.

[Bleu]

The Doctor had not noticed that where a statue should have been only cardboard existed. This was not good. Donovan now knew that a dangerous angel-like assassin was on the loose and neither of them had any idea where it was. 

'I knew she wouldn't be here.'

Donovan should have known better regarding his friend, but he allowed himself to hope that in that occasion, Dixon had chosen to stay away. Dixon was safe, though, which was a good thing. The bad thing was the he didn’t seem like he was willing to leave without an explanation. An explanation that Donovan was not sure he could give – or maybe even allowed to give.

Dixon asked Donovan what was going on, but the scholar remained silent. The Doctor didn’t let him speak; he said there was no time. That did not stop Dixon from asking questions, though, to his friend’s dismay. Donovan hoped that the Doctor would make something up to stop Dixon from continuing to ask all these questions, but he answered the sincerely. This in turn sparked more questions from the hipster. Donovan shook his head, cursing silently.

The Doctor was going to step away, but Dixon grabbed his blazer in order to stop him. He was now demanding to know what was going on. He was agitated – no doubt upset about all the secrecy.

Donovan would be upset, too.

“Okay, okay,” said Donovan to Dixon, “calm down, mate.”  He looked towards the Doctor with an apologetic shrug.  He needed to tell him. Maybe telling him the truth would succeed in persuading him to stay away. He didn’t have much choice, anyway.

“You need to stay away because the statue is actually not really a statue. It is an alien assassin that kills you when you don’t look at it. It’s called a Weeping Angel. When you look at it, it turns to stone. The Doctor and I need to find it to stop it from feeding and killing people.” Donovan was perfectly aware how ridiculous all this sounded, but not an ounce of humor came across in his face. “It was supposed to be here, but it isn’t.” He reached into his pockets to fetch his phone. He dialed Christine’s number and tossed it to the Doctor.

“Go home, mate, please. It’s not safe.”

[Krystal Itzume]

Dixon released The Doctor as Donovan spoke calming words. He fixed his eyes on Donovan and listened, brown eyes showing he was being attentive.

The truth came from Donovan, and it was evident that Dixon was confused. Donovan wasn’t known to make up these elaborate lies. “What drugs are you on?” was the question as the phone was tossed. The Doctor turned away and put it to his ear. “Seriously, a moving, killing, statue? You really want me to believe that story?”

Of course he did. He looked so serious. “You’ve…alien? You’ve got to be—ugh,” he knew Donovan wasn’t joking, that’s what made it frustrating. He put a hand on his beanie, shook his head.

“’Ello.”

He didn’t look as the Doctor apparently began his conversation. “How am I supposed to just go home hearing that, mate? How am I any safer there, away from people and eyes, huh?” There was a flaw in the logic, in Dixon’s idea. “You should go home!” He had no need to help this guy. “It’s as dangerous for you as it is for me, if it is…real.”

“Christine, they can’t do that. It lied to you.”

He pushed his hand back through his short hair, feeling it as he began to pace, “No, Christine. No, they can’t. I know. Trust me, please. Even if they could do that—” a click. “Christine? Christine, hello?” But she’d hung up. The Doctor sighed. Well, now he had to track her. He could do so with the phone, if he went back to the TARDIS. Yes, that was the only option, she wasn’t going to tell him where she was. 

[Bleu]

Donovan hated this situation. No matter which way he looked at it, there was no good way out. He wouldn’t keep helping the Doctor if it meant that Dixon was in danger. At the same time, however, he knew that the Doctor could need help, and this was no ordinary situation. Questions, scenarios, concerns, ideas, alternatives – these all flooded Donovan’s mind. While another person might be overcome with the frustration, Donovan kept his composure calm.

“You just need to go home, mate. I’m going to try and help the Doctor. I just have to.” He could see the logic behind Dixon’s request. What did he owe the Doctor? Why was Donovan helping him? “I’m doing it for me, because I’ve seen that – thing – move, and I don’t want anyone to ever see that. I’m doing this for myself just as much as I am doing this for anyone else.”

He was trying to tell Dixon that it wasn’t about the Doctor.

This was not entirely true. Yes, he wanted to save people from the Angel’s dangers, but he also wanted to help the Doctor. He wanted to ease the man’s worries, because even though the Doctor had not mentioned any of them, Donovan knew that they were there – that they were great. He couldn’t expect Dixon to understand that, though. He clearly didn’t have the same opinions towards the strange ginger.

Something was wrong on the Doctor’s side of things, too. Donovan saw him pace around, and his sigh when the call was dropped.

“What’s happened?”

[Krystal Itzume]

Dixon could understand that logic a bit better. It was selfish logic, it was logic for personal benefit, not this stranger’s benefit. Sure, Doctor benefitted from it, but it seemed to be what would ease Donovan’s conscious more than anything. “All right,” he was agreeing this time, truly agreeing. “I’m going to your place, though. Come back when this nonsense is cleared up.”

The Doctor came back over. He no longer seemed as happy as he had first appeared. Something about him made Dixon take a step back. ‘You know what they say about red-heads.’ Horrible, violent tempers.

“The angel is using her,” he said. “False promises. You humans always want what you can’t have,” he sounded quite bitter over this fact, as if he couldn’t understand it. Years after years, he’d spent around humans and still didn’t realize he was the same in that respect. He had such impossible, lofty dreams.

“Us humans?”

“Hi,” the Doctor offered his hand to Dixon. Dixon stared at it, “Like the angel, I’m an alien. I’m the Doctor.” There was sarcasm added by his irritation. He lowered his hand soon enough. Thunder rumbled in the distance. “And she’s going to cut the electricity in this city to make it perfectly dark for that angel, so we have to go.” He held up the phone. “I can trace them, if you’ll let me hold on to this.” Still asking permission.

[Bleu]

‘Thank you,’ he thought when Dixon consented.

The Doctor was irritated, annoyed that the human’s ambition had led to an unwise act. Trusting a Weeping Angel. Donovan could see the logic behind the Doctor’s emotions, and he felt the same way. He had felt that way about Christine since they had been alone with her in the library. Regardless, he was taken back by the tamed ferocity that the Doctor showed. It was a new side of him, a side that made him more wary of the strange man.

Could he respect the Doctor even more for this? It was likely.

Donovan looked to Dixon, hoping he could just take in and handle all this information back home. Where he’d be safe. “Yeah, I’ll explain everything when I get home. I’ll meet you back at my place, mate. Buy some batteries from the store if you can, just in case. I have flashlights under my bed.” 

The scholar looked at the Doctor and gave him permission to handle his phone with a nod. Whatever he needed the phone for, Donovan did not mind. The Doctor seemed to have a plan in mind, so Donovan followed behind him. They were to go to a place where the Doctor could trace Christine’s location. He waved his friend farewell.

“We can use the truck,” said Donovan. It would probably be the quickest way.

[Krystal Itzume]

“Yeah, yeah,” Dixon shook his head. Apparently the only way he was going to get any answers was by listening to Donovan. He walked off without saying much more, frustrated by his own confusion and worried for Donovan. Perhaps he should have insisted on coming along and helping, but he could still hardly believe what he was hearing.

He would get the batteries.

The Doctor followed his departure with his gaze as permission to use the phone was given. It was tucked away in the blazer’s pocket before he looked around. “Nah, we can walk,” it wasn’t that far to the TARDIS if he remembered rightly, “Back towards that café of yours. Shouldn’t take long, and then I’ll be able to access the device that can track her.” And he began walking off in that direction, expecting Donovan would follow.

If he chose to run then, though, it might be best.

It started to rain. The Doctor found this incarnation was not a fan of the way the rain fell on him, or it might have just been his mood. He seethed. He always gave the benefit of the doubt, and yet so often this was how it repaid him. It didn’t even matter the species—ambitious things were trouble, when that ambition got the better of them, when they forgot that they were part of a huge, vast, wide community of lives, all interconnected, all dependent on each other.

All life had such worth. He still hoped to save Christine, still hoped she could be reasoned with. It was a vain hope, and he knew it.

He’d done this too many times before.

Soon enough, he came to the TARDIS in the alley, undisturbed. He glanced back to see if Donovan had indeed followed, snapping his fingers as he did so. The doors opened to reveal the interior of the so-dubbed police box. 

[Bleu]

They ran.

Donovan had no trouble keeping up the Doctor’s speed, but he had to recognize and admire the endurance the man had. Not everyone could run as much as they did with no break – especially people who had no experience in athletics. Having played soccer most of his life, Donovan had a good pair of legs at his disposal. They were quick and strong, and they had yet to let the scholar down. They moved from the campus back towards the café when it started to rain.

It wasn’t a comfortable rain, either. No, this rain was cold and windy – a nuisance more than anything else. By the time they passed the café, they were both completely soaked. Down an alley they turned, and Donovan began to wonder why the Doctor had brought him to such a queer place. At the end of the valley was a big blue police box.

Fingers were snapped and the doors of the box snapped open.

“Is that…” He couldn’t finish the question.

Though it certainly seemed that way.

Donovan approached it and looked inside. He couldn’t believe it, eyes wide and a smile as proof.

“It’s smaller on the outside,” he said, theories and more theories going off in his head.

It was great. ‘This is what I’m talking about!’ His excitement was a little too clear on his face. This was what he loved – physics, and yet, here was a clear example that went against it. Seemed to go against it. It couldn’t though – physics was like math – ever present. No matter what, no matter where, physics would always apply, with small variations in variables of course, but it would exist still. He looked inside and then back outside.

“It must have some sort of compression software,” he deduced, but shook his head. There were other possibilities. “Or it could be completely disconnected from this dimension altogether – a small place of nonexistence, a different reality has a different fiction. No, but it must be some sort of compression capability; unless I can exist in two places at once…”

He turned to the Doctor, his face inevitably turning a pink color. He must have looked completely foolish in front of the Doctor.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “Go ahead, do your thing.”

[Krystal Itzume]

He had to laugh. “That’s a second,” he said. Clara had been the first to make that comment. Most talked of how it was larger on the inside. He always expected that comment, still. “Human insight must be changing these days, I wonder why?” He walked into the TARDIS as the young man thought aloud, enthralled with the TARDIS.

He did love the reactions his ship received. “Little of both, I think,” he really should have studied more for that test. “It can’t be completely outside this dimension, of course, but it is, somewhat. It is called a TARDIS—Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. It has other names, but that’s the one I like,” he noted. “It goes through time, space, and dimensions—and yes, you can be in two places at once. You really, really do not want to be. Paradoxes, reapers—nasty business. That's why I try to avoid going through dimensions, too. Or to parallel universes. Strange things happen,” he noted, walking to the control panel.

Yes, he really should have learned more about the thing before he stole it. He spun back around to face the pinkening boy, and he shook his head, “Oh no need to apologize! It’s fascinating how things work, really. Good to think on it. I encourage any, and all, theorizing on this ship!” he commented, took the phone out. “But the same rules don’t apply universally. I used to think they did,” so many times something ‘impossible’ had happened, though.

He could still be surprised. It was fun to find out just what would surprise him next. “Now, we’ll just connect your phone to this dohicky,” he turned back to the control panel, pulled a cord from it and managed to make it connect to the phone even though, by all rights, it shouldn’t have fit. He dialed Christine’s number again. She didn’t answer, but that was not important. The TARDIS followed the signal. “All right, do hold on, sometimes this isn’t a smooth ride.” Down went a lever.

The doors shut and the machine truly came to life, the noise outside audible within the TARDIS. 

[Bleu]

‘So there have been others,’ a thought emerged on Donovan’s mind.

Other people the Doctor had invited into his TARDIS. Donovan couldn’t say that he was surprised, but how could such a thing be kept a secret? How long had the Doctor affiliated himself with humans? The way he spoke led Donovan to believe that he had an extensive history with them. He wondered how old the Doctor was, truly wondered, for the very first time.

“Times are changing, Doctor,” of course he would know that. He knew about all sorts of creatures, Donovan was sure.

The scholar’s mind was immediately occupied with listening to and understanding the Doctor’s explanation regarding the TARDIS. ‘I wasn’t far off, then,’ it made Donovan proud to realize that his assumptions were more or less correct. A compression software that existed partially in other dimensions, in a way, to make this confusing reality possible. Paradoxes in time, as well as parallel universes were actually real. Donovan had always believed that such a thing was possible, but he could have never imagined that he would experience it.

‘Time travel.’

Could it be so?

That piece of information had not been directly given, but surely that is what the Doctor must have meant when he mentioned Paradoxes? With the Doctor’s blessing, Donovan would have a ball trying to understand how everything worked. The mechanics, the logic. It was amazing.

A lever went down, and the TARDIS began to move. They were travelling, in a compressed time and relative dimension in space machine shaped like a blue police box. Donovan’s hands reached for the metal bars before him, holding on as the machine moved. His eyes, however, had not lost the spark of interest in the thing – they showed a complete investment in the surroundings. He looked around, ignoring the machine’s harsh movements, his mouth open in a wide grin.

A laugh of unveiled excitement escaped him. 

“This is fascinating!”

In time, Donovan would have this machine analyzed from top to bottom.

[Krystal Itzume]

Times were always changing. The Doctor was not so jaded to think otherwise. There were similarities but the details, the wonderful details and the people, were always different.

As the TARDIS moved, and the man situated himself, he began to laugh. The Doctor smiled at the sound, though it faded as the TARDIS reached its destination. “Plenty of time to theorize later. All the time in the world, in fact,” he joked. Not really. Not for the human. Humans still aged, but the Doctor would make good on his promise to let Donovan have some more time to examine this box.

Maybe he’d take him along, if Donovan wanted.

It’d been a while since he traveled with a male human, at least, without a woman around. Rory, Mickey, Jack—none of them had really been permanent fixtures, moving about their lives. ‘He has a life, too.’ A student, yes. Things to do, to learn, papers to write. Perhaps he’d decline. “Right now, though,” the Doctor strode away from the control panel without betraying his thoughts. “Let’s see where we are!”

Door opened, and the Doctor found they were right near Christine, in some sort of building. Lots of buttons, lots of lights, lots of computer screens, and no one around.

No one but Christine. There should have been operators. “Oh, this is the power grid for the town!” He could see that in the map now, the way the lines ran across it. Christine had apparently gotten in over her head when she ended up here, because although all of this information was before her, she hadn’t yet shut off the power.

“How…how did you get here?”

“TARDIS,” he motioned to the box, that was quite obvious in front of Christine. The noise had actually distracted her. “Tracked your phone, took us here. Now, would you mind stepping away from the panel?”

[Bleu]

The TARDIS stopped. Donovan knew it was time to put his fascinations aside and get down to more important matters –that of the potentially dark town with a Weeping Angel on the loose. The Doctor had at least consented to there would be time to theorize later. This inspired a smile from Donovan, and a deep appreciation. His smile did not completely fade, but his thoughts now returned to the task at hand.

It was an easy transition for him.

“Let’s see,” agreed Donovan as the doors opened, mirrors in hand.

Christine was near to the panel that, presumably, controlled the electricity of the city. Her stunned expression only confirmed that she was not expecting them. Donovan knew better than to charge in – something reckless didn’t seem like the best idea. He merely left the TARDIS and approached the woman carefully. She questioned how they arrived there, and the Doctor responded simply with his answer.

Donovan found it best not to speak, but better to try and persuade to step away from the panel. He offered his hand for her to take – not aggressive, but one of comfort. He couldn’t begin to understand why she was doing this, but if he could offer her some sort of escape from the angel’s grasp, he would do that.

"Come," he offered.

[Krystal Itzume]

Donovan dared to move closer. ‘Careful.’ Perhaps he should have mentioned that Christine was not in danger? Donovan’s body language suggested he thought that such was the case. No, she was here because she believed the Weeping Angel could control the time it threw someone back into.

In his experience, the Angels couldn’t control this. Even if they could, it was not something he could allow to happen. Traveling in time was one thing. Displacing a person who knew nothing about how it all worked was another, especially to thousands of years in the past.

Christine shook her head at the offer. Her hand played over buttons as she took a step away from Donovan, “Christine, be reasonable,” the Doctor tried. “I know you think, I know you want, the angels to send you back in time, but I promise you that they cannot control where you end up. You will not end up in that beautiful Golden Age of heroes, Christine.” He didn’t step away from the TARDIS. No, he was not having that get stolen again by the angels.

And he did have a sinking suspicion now that more than one was active. The siren would have signaled to any others in the area, and most towns did have one or two Weeping Angels.

“How do you know that, Doctor?”

“Because I have dealt with them before,” he answered calmly, “They’ll send you back, but it won’t be more than a century. Even then, Christine—” He could lecture her for hours on why her idea wasn’t a good one, but she seemed to be tuning him out.

Her eyes shut for more than a blink. The Doctor quickly turned to see the Weeping Angel that had drawn close, the siren, using its tail to move like a snake. “That can’t be fast,” he commented. Perhaps that was why it had been in such decay in Bermuda.

Its eyes were covered, though. Its wings had moved in front of its face. Mirror plot wouldn’t work while its eyes were covered. “I’m not going to let it move, Christine.”

“Everyone blinks.” Her eyes remained closed as she took another step away from Donovan. Fingers brushed over buttons. The button she believed she needed was close, for she’d seen it before the Doctor’s TARDIS showed up out of nowhere.

[Bleu]

‘What a horrible fate.’

It would be a nightmare for Donovan to one day wake up in the past. Disconnected from his life on earth – from his family and his friends. But what if a loved one had been cast into the past? He could understand why Christine wanted that, but this was not the way to go about it. Perhaps the best thing would be to just move forward and heal.

When she took a step away from him, Donovan was half tempted to put his arm down. He knew she wouldn’t take it, but still he hoped that she could be reasoned with. Then she shut her eyes. Instantly Donovan knew that something was wrong. Apparently, so did the Doctor. Both of them turned around to see the Weeping Angel moving closer to them. The Doctor had caught sight of it just in time. The Doctor said he wouldn’t allow it to move, but Christine was right.

Everyone blinks.

Her hand reached for the buttons, which meant that the lights would go out. They would be defenseless. He couldn’t just stay there. ‘I’m going to regret this,’ thought Donovan as he moved towards the woman. He would appreciate the fact that her eyes remained closed. He dashed forward, his arms wrapping around her quickly as he carried her away. Donovan’s face had lost all color to it, and it wasn’t because of Christine’s struggle.

A second Weeping Angel was making his way towards them, but it froze arms stretched forward and bangs bared.

“Doctor!” Said Donovan, “There is another one!”

He breathed in, tightening his grip.

‘Don’t blink.’

[Krystal Itzume]

The Doctor resisted shouting out at Donovan as the man moved forward. He was relieved when he saw the man just pick the woman up, carry her from the panel, though she struggled to break free. Of course, he only saw all of this out of the corner of his eye. His gaze remained on the siren.

It was getting tiresome, though. He did want to blink.

And then Donovan gave him horrible news. He looked away, only to quickly regret it.

The siren was now right in front of him, towering over him, held up by the tail, wings outstretched—but her hands were over her eyes. “Oh, you’re good. Quick.” With covering her eyes, at least.

He assumed the other Weeping Angel trapped in Donovan’s gaze, but this situation couldn’t last. “Well, this is an issue. Ok. Yes, you know I live quite a long time. Lots of energy to absorb from me. Don’t talk, we'll figure something out for you two that doesn't involve anyone going back in time,” he stepped backwards from the siren, keeping his eyes on it. They burned to blink. “Really, you don’t need to be doing this. You’re both in good health. I think, I can’t see the other one.”

He managed to step his way to where Donovan was, and reached out to pull a mirror from his grip. “But you certainly are. Was it really necessary to lie to this woman?” Mirror in hand, he kept it behind his back as he began to walk around, closer to the angel that Donovan must be looking at. ‘A little longer, Don.’

“You’re not thinking of repeating what happened in Manhattan are y—oh, no, you don’t know of that. Paradox,” he frowned. “It was a very, very bad idea for your kind. Very bad.” He was rambling purposefully.

He was close to the other. He could see its shadow fall upon him. “I know how difficult it is for you to communicate, so I’ll just tell you what I expect you to do. If you do not do it, then I’m afraid…I’m sorry, I’ll have to harm you.”

He turned himself so he was in profile to the angel closest, averting his gaze just a moment to set up the mirror between himself and the one who’s hands were outstretched.

He turned his gaze back just in time to catch the siren. Now her eyes were uncovered. “See, that really makes me doubt you’re going to listen to me. Do you know who I am?” They couldn’t answer. “I’m the Doctor.” Oh, if only they knew, if only they cared! His reputation tended to precede him with some species out there. The Vashta Nerada at least respected him. And the Ood.

Angels, not so much. “Really, I can help you. You just have to—” it was intentional, his mannerisms, to throw them off, to make them think he wasn’t thinking.

He blinked.

Siren touched him, and he felt himself hurled back into time, not a comfortable experience outside the TARDIS. It was quick, though, and he fell on his butt in some field. He glanced around, “Now where am I?” He asked aloud. Well, no matter. He had to find some way to arrange to get the TARDIS back. He’d done this before, he could do it again!

~***~

Back in the present, the siren was frozen solid, as was the other angel. It had snaked its way forward to touch the Doctor, and was now gazing up at the other angel. A mirror was broken in the space between them. The angel’s gaze had moved to follow the action when it fell, and now it was trapped in the gaze of the siren.

It almost looked like the siren was trying to rise up, as if, perhaps, it had just gotten wings to join the other in the sky.

Christine let out a cry as she realized the angels were frozen, and her hope was lost for the time being.

[Bleu]

“Calm down, I won’t hurt you,” he kept telling a squirming Christine. She would not break his hold on her, though. Donovan was a strong man.

As much as Christine’s movement distracted him, Donovan made sure that his eyes remained with the other Weeping Angel. When he had heard how these aliens hunted, he didn’t see how difficult it could be. How very wrong he had been. The fact that he knew he couldn’t blink made him want to blink even more. He’d reach the Doctor if he blinked, he couldn’t let the angel reach him. He’s the one that knew how to dispose of these assassins.

Donovan took a second to figure out how he could keep a hold on Christine, give the Doctor a mirror, while keeping his eyes locked on the Weeping Angel. In the end, however, he did it – a sigh of relief was a result. He still couldn’t completely relax, though. Who knew how many more of them there were, or if more were coming? He couldn’t take any chances.

The Doctor tried to speak with the Weeping Angels, reason with them somehow. Donovan did not think it would work, but he hoped that some sort of agreement could be reached. It didn’t, for when the Doctor blinked, Donovan’s stomach felt like it was going to fall out of his body – it was like looking into the future without it yet happening. “Doctor!” It was too late – he hadn’t even finished his sentence before the angel sent him away. He kept his eyes on both of them – wide with fear.

He was alone with Christine and two Weeping Angels.

Two unmoving Weeping Angels.

Donovan smiled, loosening his grip on the distraught Christine, realization giving him a  brief sense of relief.

‘What about the Doctor?’

His mind raced, trying to figure out how he could even begin to find him. He had been sent back in time, that was for sure. He would probably have to end up using the TARDIS – it was a time machine, wasn’t it? He could definitely figure out how to use that – or should he wait? It seemed like he had time.

“Give me your phone, Christine!” The Doctor still had his phone. Maybe, just maybe, there could be a way to reach him. When he had at last gotten hold of the woman’s phone, the first thing Donovan noticed was the blinking battery sign on the screen. This phone would turn off any second. ‘Breathe…’ That was alright, he could get another phone. Find a charger or something.

Then steps could be heard outside. It was the Police, and this scene had several things wrong with them.

‘Shit.’

So he couldn’t simply find another phone – there was no time for that. He would have to take his chances with Christine’s.

His fingers dialed his own phone number and shortly afterwards the phone was pressed against his ear. Donovan was hopeful as he approached the TARDIS. 

[Krystal Itzume]

Christine was not at all happy with the situation. When the man loosened his grip, she was able to push away from him. She walked to the angels, touched her siren. Her gaze held longing, and she started to think of how she might free them from this. It ought to be as simple as moving them apart…but they were heavy.

Donovan demanded her phone. His urgency caused her to fear what he might do if she didn’t hand it over, so she thrust her phone out towards him, then realized she heard other steps. ‘Who?’ Of course, police. It would be odd for all the operators to suddenly vanish. Perhaps some part of town had lost power, and no one was answering the phones here. She hadn’t heard any ringing phones, of course.

‘What will I say?’ She didn’t think. She ran to find a place to hide, or escape, letting her phone go with Donovan.

~***~

The Doctor finally pulled himself up to his feet and started walking. From the looks of the town, he hadn’t been forced that far back in time. His phone even rang! Or rather, Donovan’s. That meant cell phones were in common use. He picked up, happily, “Hello, you’ve reached the Doctor, how can I help you?” He hadn’t checked the caller ID to see that it was Christine who was calling. 

[Bleu]

Christine had gone off to hide, and so Donovan went inside the TARDIS, whose door remained opened. Once he was inside, though, the doors closed behind him. Did it somehow know that the Doctor had gone? He couldn’t think too much about it, for when the phone dialed, and the Doctor picked up, Donovan let out a laugh of relief.

“Doctor – it’s so good to hear your voice! We don’t have much time, I’m inside the TARDIS, where are –“

Beep.

“Doctor? Hello?”

The call was dropped and the phone turned off. The screen was black, and no matter which buttons he pressed, it would not give.

Despite several failed attempts, Donovan tried to turn the phone on again. “Damn it!” His mind began to try and think of ways of finding the Doctor. He looked over the control panel – taking notice of all the wires. He picked up some wires only to find more wires waiting underneath. He looked at the phone – it wasn’t turning on.

‘What did he do with my phone?’ He wondered, going back and looking into those recent memories.

“He said he connected my phone to this…” he looked for the right wire, finding it relatively close to the lever, “dohicky.” He had to force the wire into the phone, but nothing happened. At least not immediately. When Donovan was thinking about going the mechanical path, the phone lit up. This sparked the scholar’s hopes, but they were once more deflated when the screen began to buzz, giving him nothing but static. He clicked the buttons, but nothing happened – the phone continued to only spaz out in random noises.

Time passed and he felt the TARDIS move. Donovan was sure that they were outside sources.

The man’s mind, however, was going through ideas much quicker than most. He tried connecting it again, using a different wire, pulled down the lever. Nothing happened. Donovan then began to pay closer attention to the wires, finding faint marking with a strange print written on all of them. He needed a pen.

He found a pen in his back pocket – the one he would use to tally up a person’s bill back at the Café. “This is good, I’ve got a pen.” He didn’t have paper, though. He laid down on the floor, examining all the wires and writing down their faint print on his arms. When he ran out of space in his arms, he took off his shirt and wrote on that. He filled both sides of the shirt and was halfway down his chest when the ink of the pen finally gave.

Each wire led to a slot, which had a different marking. He was mostly interested in the wire that was connected to the phone, the one he was sure the Doctor had used. He came up with possibilities that could explain why it had worked earlier and not now. It was the time – he had been sent into the past. Something told him, though, that the answer was in the wires.

“One can simply rewire to change the nature of the command,” this was his logic, and he followed it. Everything that he had written down had a meaning; he just needed to figure out what everything meant.

He deciphered the markings like a complex genetics chart, and switched some wrong cables to their correct slots. Lights that had previously been burnt out turned back on. “Good, we’re getting somewhere.” At long last, he rewired the cable that connected to the still buzzing phone, and when he finished, the phone’s screen turned a bright blue color – similar to that of the TARDIS.

“Scanning signal,” Donovan read the letters on the screen, they changed into several other languages. Still, it didn’t give him a phone – just a screen.

It was the best he could do.

Down the lever went, and the TARDIS traveled. Donovan held on to the metal bars that surrounded the walkway around the control panel. When the TARDIS finally settled, the doors opened. Donovan grabbed his shirt, and peeked outside – hoping that by some miracle his work had paid off.

[Krystal Itzume]

The Doctor let out a sigh as the man talked of being in the TARDIS, only for the line to go dead. “You’re a smart lad,” he said to himself, taking the phone away from his ear. “Maybe it’ll be that simple.” Better consider other plans just in case. He had been in 2013, right? Ah, he forgot the date, though.

The Doctor walked on into the town. There was a greasy-spoon type diner where he was able to grab a newspaper and hot chocolate, though it wasn’t cold. “Ah,” the newspaper revealed why. He’d been thrown back to July 25, 1999. No wonder he received such an odd look for ordering hot chocolate.

He finished and paid with the money in his pocket—he was still in England. “Not so bad,” he mused to himself. “Been worse.” He’d been thrown back so much further before. He could wait fourteen years, too. That might be tricky with Donovan.

Just as he stepped outside, he heard the all-too familiar noise of the TARDIS. He glanced to his left and saw the hue of blue as it was manifesting next to the diner. He waited where he stood, a smile coming to his lips. He wouldn’t have to wait 14 years, or figure out who he could contact. If he thought about it, he probably could have gone to a young Donovan and told him the secrets to bring the TARDIS here, and… ‘Well, unnecessary now.’ It finally materialized plainly and the doors opened.

Donovan peeked out, shirt in hand, dirty with ink. He laughed at all the Gallifreyan on him, walked forward and clapped a hand on his back, “Well done! You know, you should get a tattoo of that,” he said as he strode by him and fully into the TARDIS, “Gallifreyan is as good a language as Chinese. I’d even translate it properly so you didn’t end up with ‘Value Meal’ tattooed on your side…not that anyone else would know,” a chuckle. He approached the control panel to see how things were hooked up now, crouching down to examine the way the wires were running.

A nod to himself, and he took the phone out, then realized he still had Donovan’s. He took it out of his pocket and offered it back to Donovan as he rose. “Thank you,” sincere, truly, for all of it. “Truly, I'm not sure I could wait fourteen years to reunite with my TARDIS," but this was what he loved about humans. Innovative and stubborn.

[Bleu]

The Doctor’s laugh was heard, and a huge surge of relief overcame Donovan’s entire body – a long escaping breath and a smile. He had been worried, more worried than he could ever explain, that all of his hard work had not paid off and that the Doctor would continue to be stranded somewhere in the past – away from the place that Donovan suspected was his one true home. Such a horrible situation was enough to make the scholar frown. The man didn’t deserve it, surely.

“It’s good to see you, Doctor,” said Donovan as the Time Lord entered the TARDIS, all smiles. “Is that what that says?” He looked at his chest. Value Meal, the scholar would have never suspected it. Still, the idea was intriguing, tempting in its own way. Even if the comment had been a joke, Donovan had never considered getting a tattoo more than now. He had never had a reason to, nothing important to remember. This was a special circumstance though, and the idea was not so purposeless now.

He still doubted that he’d go through with such a thing, though.

He slipped his shirt on and walked towards the Doctor as he saw and inspected the mess that Donovan had surely created. Donovan would not have messed with the wires if he thought he had a choice – it was like rearranging furniture in a house not your own. As it had before, Donovan’s face turned a shade of pink, like he often did when a professor evaluated an oral presentation. Oral exams. He hated them. Pen and paper were much better.

Donovan took his phone, and smiled when the Doctor thanked him. He didn't need to thank him. Donovan should be thanking the Doctor. "Thank you," he spoke appreciatively for how he had saved them from the Weeping Angels. He was a good man.

“I’m sorry about all the wires,” he said, “I couldn’t think of what else to do. I think the Police were taking custody of the TARDIS, so I did what I could.” He was being pressured by time.

Now he would get to go home. He would have to go and tell Dixon what happened, and that let him know that he was fine. Would it be enough, though? Could he really be satisfied with the life that he used to have? A life that didn’t include the Doctor, the TARDIS and all its wonder, seemed boring. School was his home, and Physics was his love, but now that proved to be untrue. The world had gotten so much bigger – with endless possibilities here and there.

He could become an inventor - make all these things possible back on Earth.

No, that was a future too farfetched.

[Krystal Itzume]

Did the Doctor correct him, or let him fret over the idea that his ink said ‘Value Meal’. He decided not to correct him. Off the top of his head, he couldn’t even imagine ‘Value Meal’ being spoke in Gallifreyan. They didn’t exactly have fast food restaurants with such things. The idea amused him further. 'And if there was one, it would be Rassilon's.' His mind concocted names for it, but in the end, he knew Rassilon was not that creative.

The phone was taken back. “Oh, don’t worry about all this. I’ve made bigger messes of this machine. Ended up on fire once,” he patted it, “She’s a good girl, though. Tough.” He did love his TARDIS, his home. He did turn back around to the wires, crouched back down and began to rearrange them back to the order they’d been in.

He was liable to end up in an alternate dimension otherwise. He’d ‘broken’ a few things on purpose. “Hopefully it was the police,” he frowned, wondering if Torchwood would have shown up at that scene and tried to take his TARDIS. Well, it might be better to hope it was Torchwood. They'd know what to do with the angels, and with Christine if they caught her.

Once the wires were back the way he liked them, he stood back up, brushed off the knees of his pants. “Well, I suppose I ought to get you back to that friend of yours, shouldn’t I?” Yes, he should. Explanations were always good to have. He didn’t need another friend or mother or sibling angry with him for stealing away a friend.

Maybe he could try doing this in reverse then. “I could, ah, come along to help you explain things, perhaps?” He made the offer, found it sounded odd. Maybe it was better to just sweep people away, get them caught up in the idea of it.

No. No that was manipulation. Bad.

[Bleu]

The Doctor didn’t seem upset about what Donovan had done, but instead was just happy to be back with his time machine. He had never been so sure that this curious blue box of a time machine was the Doctor’s home. He spoke of it sweetly, as if it were a person – alive. It had a gender, apparently, so Donovan took note of it. But did it really? There were still plentiful things that he couldn’t begin to understand about the TARDIS, but hopefully he would see the Doctor often enough to learn more and more.

“She’s wonderful,” said Donovan in admiration.

The student looked over at the Doctor after he had finished putting everything back in order.  He silently thanked that he hadn’t done any irreparable damage. When the Doctor spoke, however, about taking him back to Dixon, he felt a twinge of regret. His smile did not falter, but the enthusiasm – the awe – that had become clear in his eyes had faded. He wasn’t sad about what had happened, even if he had been in mortal danger.

No, he had enjoyed finding out about all that he now knew.

To leave it now would be too soon. Of course, that was not for him to decide. Donovan hardly knew the man; it’d be ridiculous for him to expect something more than just this brief encounter. Wouldn’t it? He let out a sigh, one of relief that at least everything would be alright, and he smiled at the Doctor. Dwelling on the negative had never been something Donovan enjoyed doing, so he merely settled for cherishing this very unique memory.

“I think that would be a good idea to go back, now,” said he nodding his head. He owed Dixon an explanation, and making him wait was not something that Donovan would do – even if he wanted to remain in the TARDIS for a while longer. “Of course,” said Donovan to the Doctor when he asked to come along and explain things to Dixon, “that would be nice. I also have apples back in my apartment if you’re hungry.”

Apples. Donovan chuckled, not being able to explain why he remembered that from that morning in the café.