Effie (A Rewrite of Series One and Two)

A Doctor Who Fanfiction

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. I do not own any of the songs or singers/bands that are mentioned. I do, however, own Effie and any other characters that you don't recognize.

Full Summary: This is a rewrite of series one and two of the new series of Doctor Who because the Doctor was too good for Rose Tyler. Not saying that my OC will be better than Rose. All the episodes are included, although some vary. For example, Father's Day has nothing to do with my OC, Effie, saving her FATHER'S life. Her father and mother are alive. It will also have additional episodes. Each episode will be at least two chapters apiece. The events are roughly the same, but the characters mostly change what they say (some phrases might be repeated) due to Effie's very much different from Rose. I hope you enjoy!

Episode One: Effie

Part 1.

The sound of the incredibly annoying alarm clock sounded through the room. Effie Tanner groaned audibly and rolled over on her other side, pushing away the bed sheets so that she could slam her right hand down on the off button. The buzzing finally stopped, but it rung in Effie's head like a fire alarm.

Letting out another few groans, Effie managed to push herself out of her blue and white checkered bed and onto the hardwood floor of her rather small room. The apartment was unusually quiet. Her flatmate, Jenny Marks, was probably not up yet. Jenny was the loudest girl London. She was never really annoying, but she never knew when to shut up. She droned on and on about mostly random things, like that fire across town that killed six people and injured three or two celebrities that broke it off with one another. Effie didn't care about celebrities much anymore. Not after she had lost her job as a journalist to some preppy cheerleader that she had known in high school. Now, she worked in a shop across town, Henrik's. She was assistant to the chief electrician, Wilson. It was boring, really. All she did was hold things for him, and get him lunch and dinner. She was lucky that she was paid for doing nearly nothing, but being a journalist had been exciting. She had gotten to go all around Britain with a notepad in her left pocket and a recorder in her right. Effie had loved being a journalist. That's why she was always on call if they needed one. She would be the first in line.

After Effie got off the floor, she stumbled into the tiny kitchen to make coffee. Just as soon as she had finished brewing it, Jenny fell onto the counter beside her, jiggling her coffee in it's cup. Her eyes were dead bloodshot. Hangover, Effie reasoned. Jenny often had those. When she went out with the girls, she rarely ever returned sober. That's why Effie never went out with Jenny and her friends. At twenty three, she had never gotten drunk, and she vowed that she never would.

"Morning sunshine," Effie muttered sarcastically, handing her coffee in a green and white cup ajorned with orangey flowers.

"Yeah yeah," Jenny sighed. The only time she ever really stopped talking when during a morning with a hangover. "It's shiny sunshine all right. Shiny shiny, like my beautiful little ring here," she held up her hand so Effie could see the - indeed - glittering golden ring on her left hand, middle finger.

Effie lowered Jenny's hand from her face without taking her eyes off the coffee maker. "You know, Jen, these hangover stuff aren't good for you. How much did you pay for that ring?"

Jenny paused, thinking about it, then exploded with excitement, "I didn't pay for it! Jakob did!" she then proceeded to dance around the room like a deranged psychopath, splashing coffee all over the black tight-fitted tee and blue skinny jeans she never bothered to change out of last night. "Jakob, Jakob Illmari. Jakob, Jakob, Jakob, Jakob, Jakobo, Jakobobobobobo..." she drifted off into a whispering of "oh..." as she sat down on the ugly - or at least that's what Effie always thought - orange couch to drink what was left of her coffee.

Running her hands through her hair, Effie sipped a bit of her coffee, then checked the clock on the wall. She was alarmed to see that the time was 7:45, just a mere fifteen minutes before she should be at work. She cursed loudly, then ran to her bedroom to get dressed.

Throughout the day, Effie fit her job description: she held things and got Wilson lunch. She shifted through clothes and make sure things didn't explode. Which nothing ever did. Life as the cheif electrician's assistant was terribly boring.

That night, when Effie had just returned with Wilson and her dinner, everything was silent. Usually you could hear the sound of Wilson humming ABBA songs or the dusty old stereo he had playing Billy Idol or David Bowie. If he wasn't in the musical mood, you could still hear him munching on something or playing with something electrical. But not now. Now, all Effie could hear was silent. A daring, heavy silence.

"Helloo?" Effie called, hearing it echo throughout the basement area. She knocked on Wilson's door, which above it read H. P. Wilson, C. E. O. in large letters. "Hello, Wilson? Anyone home? I got your dinner! Gravy and rice, your favourite!" she never really knew why old Wilson liked gravy and rice so much. It was actually very disgusting. Effie herself had tried it, and she had immediately spit it back out.

When there came none of Wilson's usual gruff answer, Effie pulled on the door a few times. Locked. That's weird.

Slowly, Effie began her walk down the hallway. She could hear noises coming from a room somewhere down in the clothing department. "Hullooo! Wilson, you crackpot!" even when he was playing a trick on her, when she insulted him, he always, always came out to defend himself. This time was different.

"Okay, Wilson, you got me!" she surrendered. "It's funny. I'm busting my sides. Now come on out. You're scaring me."

No answer. Just more movement and sounds from the room at the near end of the hallway.

Planning to catch him in the act, Effie readied herself, then she jumped into the room, screaming, "Rar!"

No one moved. Nothing. It was just a room with a bunch of mannequins with clothing on display at Henrik's set upon them. They eerily looked like real people, their faces carved to fit that of an actual person. It was creepy. Like those animation movies where the human characters looked so real, yet so not. Effie blinked, getting the strangest feeling that they were alive...

Nope, no movement. She let out a nervous bark of laughter. Then she remembered the gravy and rice in the bag in her hands and cautiously began to move forwards. "Wilson!" she tried again. "Okay, I'm getting really annoyed now. If you don't come out, I'll drop your dinner in the trash and leave without a trace! You'll need to find a new assistaaaaaant!"

No answer.

Effie groaned, stamping her foot on the ground. "Fine! You want to play games!" she picked up a brisk walk to the nearest trash can. As she was approaching it, she hear some kind of footsteps behind her. She whirled around angrily, only to face a mannequin again. But it took a step towards her. And another step. And another.

Soon, mostly all the mannequins in the room had seemingly come to life, taking shakey, shuddering steps towards Effie. She, in turn, snarled a bout of nervous laughter. "Wilson! This is so not funny, you hear me? Completely. Not. Funny!"

But the mannequins began to move faster. And faster. Until they'd backed Effie up against a corner. "Stop it!" she cried as they reached out with their seemingly plastic hands towards her. "Get off!"

As she moved her hand backwards, she felt something - though hopefully someone - grip her hand. Oh no, though Effie with dread, is it another 'moving' mannequin?

But as she turned around to see, she saw it was nothing other than a man with rather large ears in a leather jacket. He said one word to her. Only one word that convinced her to come with him as they ran down the hallway.

"Run."

READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!