Author's note: This is sort of an alterna-adventure, taking place around season two. :) Oh, and I don't own Doctor Who. That'd be the BBC.
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"…And then he turns to me, and guess what he says?"
The Doctor and Rose stumbled around the corner laughing, clutching onto each other as if they would fall down in giggles the moment they let go. The Doctor continued his story, all wild gestures and tousled hair. He turned to the Rose, who was, by now, doubled over with laughter, and finished his joke.
"He says, 'That's no Slitheen! That's my mother!" The pair cracked up again, sending spirals of laughter pealing through the streets. The humor would normally be enough to lighten up any situation, but it seemed almost gaudy, set against the cold, empty roads as it was.
Slowly, and after many muffled giggles, the two examined their surroundings. The road was winding and cobbled, the houses and shop fronts made of brick and wood. It was a generic cityscape- they could've been anywhere.
"Doctor," the girl asked, turning towards her companion, "Where did you say we were going again?"
The Doctor grinned. "I didn't."
"Well then, out with it! Where are we?"
"No idea!" The Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets and spun around, taking in the view from all angles. "Random destination. Hit a button on the TARDIS, and bam! We're off! That's the beauty of it, Rose, any place, any time!" The Doctor looked delighted at the prospect, as if the idea of being lost in space was the best news he'd heard all day. "For all I know, this could be 245 MYA!"
Rose raised an eyebrow. "Except, clearly, it's not."
"We-ell, give or take 245,001,900 years." The Doctor fumbled in his pocket for a bit before finally pulling out his prize with a dramatic flourish. "I'll just check..." he twisted a few knobs on the sonic screwdriver, "Setting two hundred, maybe? Just a quick scan and…"
Rose rolled her eyes. 'Or," she called teasingly as she skipped ahead of the Doctor, "We could just ask." She could see someone standing about a block and a half down the otherwise deserted lane. A girl, it looked like, probably about her own age.
"Right," The Doctor called, tucking the sonic device back into his pocket. He jogged to catch up to where Rose was slowing in front of the young woman. "The domestic approach."
As the two grew nearer, they could make the figure ahead of them more clearly. The girl they'd spotted was of average height, standing, as if on duty, in a plain grey dress, belted at the waist. She was pretty, in a country girl sort of way, with perpetually rosy cheeks and curly dark hair that strained to escape from her sensible bun. Dark circles fell under her eyes, as if she hadn't had a good night sleep in weeks. The girl smiled just slightly as she saw Rose and the Doctor approach, quickly taking in their disheveled hair and unusual attire.
"Uh, hello!" The Doctor said cheerily, "I'm the Doctor, and this is my friend Rose, and we were wondering if you could tell us where we are."
"Shipton Street, sir," the girl responded, looking slightly amused by this question. She pointed at a sign about ten feet away, clearly labeled, proclaiming their location for all to see.
"Err, well, yes." The Doctor gave a sheepish grin. "I was hoping you could be a bit more specific than that. What city, country...?"
"Continent, planet, solar system?" Rose cut in, leaning causally on the brick wall beside her. She watched and the young woman's face slowly lost her friendly smile, her expression flicking from confusion, to worry, to fear."
The girl learned down and hefted up a small black bag that lay at her feet. "I think you'd better come with me, ma'am. You too, sir." She gestured toward a small bench that sat in front of a boarded-up deli just a few feet away.
Rose glanced over at the Doctor and pouted, then grinned as he reached into his jacket pocket once again. "Oh, that won't be necessary...what's your name?" He pulled out a battered leather wallet and flashed it at the other girl, giving his most reassuring smile.
The girl ignored him, reached out, and firmly grasped the Doctor's wrist, pulling him gently towards the bench. The Doctor shrugged, almost imperceptibly, at Rose, allowed himself to be dragged without protest.
"It's Cora, sir, Cora Sinclair. And you should know the rules better than anyone, being a doctor yourself." She watched sternly as the Doctor obediently sat on the bench, with Rose plopping down rather unceremoniously after.
Rose glanced nervously at the Doctor's quietly complying form. What was going on? What strange place had they turned up? Her first instinct was to go and explore, or at least to demand some answers from this Cora girl, but she knew the Doctor was right. For once it was better to sit through God-knows-what than to run off and scare the locals. It didn't look like they were in danger, anyway. She watched, perplexed, as Cora began to ask the Doctor a few questions of her own."
"Headache? Cough?" The Doctor shook his head no. She peered at him closely. "Color's good, but I'd like to check you out all the same." Cora reached out and lightly pressed her small hand against the skin of the Doctor's forehead, then reached into her bag and pulled out a small stethoscope, as well as an old-fashioned mercury thermometer. The stethoscope she draped around her neck before handing the thermometer to the Doctor.
"Well?" Cora asked, as the Time Lord took the offered instrument, but did not put it in his mouth. "C'mon now, if you're gonna ask what planet you're on, you should expect to have your temperature taken."
The Doctor shot Rose an amused look as if to say, Well, she'd have found out anyway, and popped the thermometer under his tongue. Rose was beginning to feel be less and less patient.
"Seriously though, where are we? America, yeah?" She nodded at Cora, acknowledging her accent.
"Of course," Cora murmured. "New York, United States, North America, Earth, The Solar System." She raised an eyebrow at Rose. "Any other questions?"
"Yes, actually." Rose replied, unfazed by Cora's quiet insolence. "What's the year? And why the hell are you examining us?"
"How can you be ignorant of that?" Cora asked, genuinely astonished, "Where have you been living?"
The Doctor, who'd been fidgeting impatiently, sighed and removed the thermometer from his lips. "Blasted thing," he muttered, twirling the glass between his fingers, "Always takes ages. You'd have thought they could have worked out something faster by now." He frowned slightly, before turning to Cora and responding chipperly, "Anyway, we're travelers. Humor us."
Cora looked at him curiously, "How could you have you travelled so far, sir, that you've not been affected by the Spanish Influenza?" She looked strangely hopeful, as if she'd never considered that anyone might've escaped the disease.
"We-ell," The Doctor shrugged and ran his fingers through his brown hair, "Remote regions of…Ireland. 1918, is it?" He turned to his friend, and Rose could see a new understanding had filled his eyes. "That explains a lot."