The Greatest Star
. . * . .
The Eleventh Hour Part One
"Dear Santa," whispered Kurt Hummel as he knelt beside his bed, small hands clasped in prayer. He had seen people doing it at his Mommy's funeral. But he hasn't done it since then. He thought he was doing it right, he hoped he was. Because what if Santa couldn't hear him if his hands weren't right? "Thank you for the pencils and the fish. You didn't get me any dolls but that's okay. Daddy says that the Power Rangers that you got me are like dolls. Is he right? I know Daddy's smart, but I don't think he knows much about dolls."
Kurt squeezed his already closed eyes. "It's nearly Easter now, so I hope I didn't wake you. But it's an emergency Santa." He reached a hand up quickly to brush back a strand of hair. He slowly turned his head, and opened his glasz eyes. There, being illuminated by only the moon light and his small lamp was the crack. The crack that looked like the smile on that clown man's face in the movies that his Daddy likes to watch.
"There's a crack in my wall, Santa. Daddy says it's just an ordinary crack, but Santa, I know it's not an ordinary crack because at night, I think I can hear a voice come through it. Daddy says it's just my imagination but I swear it's real." Kurt drew in a big breath. "So, if it's not too much trouble could you maybe…please, send someone to fix it? Maybe a repairman? Or a police–"
He paused, hearing a sound that sounds kind of like a vacuum cleaner. Or maybe one of those tubes you spin around in the air? They had used those is science a few weeks ago. He jumped suddenly when a large crash interrupted the sound.
Kurt shot up, and ran to the basement window that looked into the backyard. A large blue box with smoke rising from it was lying in the debris that was once a red shed. Kurt frowned, remembering how he always liked to do 'interior design' for the shed. Like on HGTV.
But, maybe this is who Santa sent him to fix the crack? He hoped so. But he doesn't know about any sort of repairman that comes in a blue box, but Kurt trusted Santa. Trusts that somewhere, someone out there knows and is sending people to help him.
He looked up at the night sky through his bedroom window, a smile on his face. "Thank you, Santa."
Kurt went over to his desk and pulled his small red cardigan from the back of his chair and slipped it on his small frame. He grabbed his matching red rain boots from where they rested beside his bed and he slipped those on as well. At the last minute he also remembered to go and grab the flashlight he kept in his nightstand.
He rushed down the stairs and into the backyard. He pushed the back door open and he stepped onto the porch. The blue box is still smoking, making the air taste acidic and heavy in his lungs.
He made his way over until he was only a few meters away from the box. From here, if he stretched his head, he could make out the words 'POLICE CALL BOX', Santa sent him a policeman then, but what's a call box?
The doors to the box suddenly crashed open, releasing even more smoke. Kurt gasped and backed away slightly, and a few seconds later a grappling hook shot out and landed a few feet away from him. One hand reached out and latched onto the rim of the box. Another one came up and joined it and soon an entire body appeared.
Kurt stood there his eyes wide, and his breath frozen in his lungs.
The man grinned, looking insane or ecstatic, most likely both. "Can I have an apple?"
Kurt just stood there. The man was soaking wet, brown hair sticking to his face, his blue button up clinging to his body. He also registered the man's thick British accent; he's never heard someone with a British accent before in Lima. He's only ever heard them in his Daddy's old war shows.
"All I can think about – apples. I love apples! Maybe I'm having a craving! That's new, never had craving before." The man grinned wider, and pulled himself farther up so he was straddling the rim of the box. He whistled as he looked down into the smoking depths. "Whoa! Look at that!"
"Are you okay?" Kurt asked when he finally got his throat working again. (He was ridiculously pleased with himself when his voice didn't waver.)
The man sniffed and swung his legs over. "Just had a bit of a fall. All the way down there, right to library – hell of a climb back up."
"You're soaking wet."
"I was in the swimming pool."
"You said you were in the library." Kurt snipped, an eyebrow raised.
"So was the swimming pool."
"Are you a policeman?" He asked, remembering.
"Why?" The man questioned loudly, leaning precariously on the edge he asked. "Did you call for a policeman?"
"Did you…did you come about the crack in my wall?" He asked quietly.
The man raised an eyebrow. "What cra— AGH!" He cried jumping off the side of the box, hitting his head against the ground. Kurt stepped forward a bit; he'd never met anyone this clumsy before.
"Are you alright, mister?"
The man struggled to his knees, his face screwed up and a fist clenched over his chest. "No, I'm fine, it's okay. This is all perfectly norm–" he choked, his moth opened wide and a fine golden dust burst out of it, floating into the dark sky. Kurt stared at it as it disappeared with wide eyes, who was this man?
"Who are you?" He breathed.
The man grinned, looking down at his hands, the golden dust coming off them too now. "I don't know yet! I'm still cooking." He turned and looked at Kurt straight in the eyes. "Does it scare you?"
"No, it just looks a bit weird." He said, shrugging. He's seen weirder, like when that boy Noah came to school one day with just a strip of hair left on his head.
"No, no, no." The man interjected. "The crack in your wall. Does it scare you?"
"Yes." He answered in a small voice.
The man grinned, and jumped to his feet, towering over Kurt now. "Well then, no time to lose! I'm The Doctor. Do everything I tell you, don't ask stupid questions and don't wander off." The Doctor grinned and turned around.
And then walked straight into a tree.
"You all right?" He asked The Doctor from where stood over him.
"Early days," The Doctor explained stiffly. "Steering's a bit off."
. . *. .
If you had told Kurt that tonight he would be standing in his kitchen looking for an apple for a stranger who had been sent by Santa, and who was here to fix the crack in his wall he would have called you insane.
Apparently though, tonight, madness was crashing in on reality.
The Doctor stood awkwardly in the corner of the kitchen, eyes darting around, taking in his surroundings. Kurt finally managed to find an apple hidden in the depths of the fridge. He'd have to go shopping soon.
"If you're a Doctor, why does you box say 'police'?" He asked handing the bright red fruit up to the Doctor. The Doctor looked at him with a skeptical expression on his face as he took the apple. Kurt raised an eyebrow as The Doctor took a big bite of the apple, and promptly spit it onto the floor of the kitchen. Kurt screwed up his face in disgust at the half-chewed piece of food.
Coughing The Doctor looked down at him. "That's disgusting. What is that?"
"An apple." He said.
"Apples are rubbish. I hate apples." The Doctor insisted.
"You said you loved them." He said, slowly.
"No, no." The Doctor said looking around. "Yoghurt's my favorite. Give me yoghurt." Kurt raised his other eyebrow and ran over to the fridge opening it up at grabbing one of the containers of blueberry yoghurt on the shelf.
The Doctor reached out and grabbed the container away from his hands when he got close. He quickly tore off the lid and gulped it down like a drink making Kurt cringe.
The Doctor barely had it in his mouth for five seconds before he was spitting it out, and having it splatter it on the floor next to the discarded apple.
"I hate yoghurt. It's just stuff, with bits in it." The Doctor said.
"You said it was your favorite." Kurt was getting tired of all this.
"New mouth! New rules!" The Doctor exclaimed, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's like eating after cleaning your teeth, everything tastes wro—agh!" He cried, his body jerking around, him still yelling. He cut off; his hand on his forehead, suddenly looking confused and tired.
"What is it? What's wrong with you?" He asked. Was this man sick like his Mommy had been? He didn't know how to help him if he was sick, and plus this Doctor was meant to be helping him.
"Wrong with me? It's not my fault. Why can't you give me decent food? You're American – fry something."
Kurt raised an eyebrow and opened the fridge up for a third time that night. He peered around inside thinking about what he could 'fry'.
"You have a towel?" The Doctor asked. Kurt looked back at him; the man was still soaking wet, dripping water onto the floor, a puddle slowly surrounding him.
"On the handle." He said, pointing to the red checkered towel hanging of the stove handle. The Doctor smiled and whipped the towel of the handle, bringing it up to his head he started scrubbing, drying his hair.
Kurt giggled and turned back to his scavenging. He sighed when he noticed a hidden package of bacon. Kurt frowned; he had told is dad that he shouldn't eat it anymore. But, he did need something to fry, and this was all he was gonna get. He pulled out the package and placed it next to the stove top, and he grabbed a pan that was in the shelf above.
He placed the pan on and turned the heat up. At the last minute he grabbed some oil and poured it in the pan. Kurt smiled; even if it was nasty, greasy food at least he was cooking. He loved to cook but his Daddy was always too scared to let him cook, he always said that Kurt might burn himself or set something on fire. That was ridiculous of course because Kurt had always been careful when he used to cook with Mommy.
He tossed the slabs of meat into the oil and grabbed a spatula. He waited a few minutes, trying to ignore the impatient, bouncing man behind him as he made sure they were fully cooked. He nodded to himself when they were and he grabbed a blue plate from the open cabinet, scooping the bacon onto the plate.
The Doctor plopped down in one of the kitchen chairs. Kurt placed the plate of bacon the table and slide it over to him as he sat down in the other chair.
"Ah! Bacon." The Doctor smiled, blessedly using silverware this time. Kurt smiled and laughed to himself in pleasure when The Doctor stuck the first bite into his mouth, he had finally gotten it right. The Doctor's face screwed up again, he brought his hands up to his open mouth and he scrapped the offending piece of bacon off his tongue.
"Bacon. That's bacon. Are you trying to poison me?" The Doctor accused, eyes wide. Kurt tipped his head to the side. Was this man for real? Poison? In bacon?
Kurt sighed and tried again, grabbing a can of beans that was set out. He opened the can quickly and dumped them into a pot, stirring them around. The Doctor came over and leaned on the counter, his chin propped up on his hand.
"Ah, you see? Beans." The Doctor said with a reverence that was normally reserved for a religious awaking. Kurt shook his head; he took the pot off the heat when bubbles started to appear. He grabbed a bowl and slowly poured all of the beans into it, until it was almost overflowing.
He slowly carried the bowl over to the table placing it in front of The Doctor's chair. "You're beans sir." He smiled. The Doctor grinned and plopped down in the chair again, scraping a spoon into the bowl getting a mouthful, he smile increased before he placed the bite in his mouth. His eyes widened as his mouth closed however and he ran over to the sink spitting the beans out.
"Beans are evil." The Doctor whispered back at Kurt, eyes wide. "Bad, bad beans."
Kurt sighed, putting his head down on the table for a second. He shoved himself away from the table, grabbing the loaf of Wonder bread and a tub of butter, spreading the butter on the cold bread. He placed the bread in front of The Doctor, awaiting his reaction.
"Bread and butter. Now you're talking." The Doctor smirked, nodding his head. Kurt bit his lip, he didn't dare have hope. The Doctor had barely swallowed a bit of the bread before he shot out of his chair, the plate in his head.
"What are you doing?" Kurt yelled after him. He heard a crash and what was most likely the sound of the neighbor's cat screeching.
"AND STAY OUT!" Kurt heard The Doctor's voice yell. The Doctor came stomping back into the kitchen, pacing the floor. Kurt sighed at the look on The Doctor's face, getting up and opening the fridge in a folly search for food.
"We got some carrots?" Kurt tried.
"Carrots? Are you insane?" The Doctor exclaimed, stopping his pacing and coming over to the fridge, alongside Kurt.
"No, wait, hang on. I know what I need. I need…I need…I need." The Doctor mumbled as he looked inside the fridge, "I need…fish fingers and custard." He grinned, pulling out both items.
"Those are fish sticks." Kurt protested. "Fish don't have fingers, they have fins."
The Doctor ignored him as he grabbed a clear mixing bowl, pouring the custard in; he also dumped out the entire box of fish sticks onto a plate placing it in the microwave for five minutes. Kurt rolled his eyes; he went over to the fridge to close the doors when his eye caught sight of tub of vanilla ice cream. Oh well, he thought as he pulled it out and grabbed a spoon, he deserved a treat now and again.
Kurt was licking a big spoon of the ice cream when The Doctor sat down again with his very odd snack. The two sat in silence as The Doctor dipped a fish stick into the custard before bringing it up to his mouth stuffing it with the disgusting dessert.
Kurt watched as he brought up the bowl of custard, drinking half of it. Kurt raised an eyebrow when The Doctor lowered the bowl, smiling as his custard-moustache was displayed.
"Funny." Kurt said.
"Am I? Good. Funny's good." The Doctor said. "What's your name?" He asked as he swirled another fish stick around in the custard.
Kurt hesitated; his class just watched a video on what the teacher's called 'stranger danger.' He didn't know if The Doctor counted as a stranger.
"Elizabeth Harp." The name burst out of his mouth before he could stop it. It was a name he had made up for himself a few weeks ago; he had wanted to have a name as pretty as one of the Disney princesses. He hadn't told anybody about his new name ever since he told his Daddy and he had got mad.
"Ah, that's a brilliant name, Elizabeth Harp." The Doctor exclaimed, drawing out the syllables. "Like a name in a fairy tale. So are we in America, Elizabeth?"
"Yes," Kurt said his tone sassy. "Lima, Ohio. It's horrible; I'm going to live in New York one day though, I'm going to be on Broadway."
"Ah, brilliant, I went to the very first Broadway show. So what about your mum and dad, then?" The Doctor said, raising his eyes to the ceiling. "Thought we'd have woken them by now."
"I don't have a mom." Kurt said, softly. "Just a dad."
The Doctor was silent for a moment, chewing a bite of fish stick. "I don't even have a dad."
"No dad or…or mom?" Kurt whispered eyes large and watery. Silence filled the room thick and choking, the sounds of The Doctor chewing the only sound.
"So your dad, where is he?" The Doctor finally broke the silence.
"He's out."
"And he left you all alone?" The Doctor exclaimed.
"I'm not scared," Kurt protested, eyes narrowing.
The Doctor laughed. "'Course you're not. You're not scared of anything! Box falls out of the sky, man falls out of box, man eats fish custard, and look at you, just sitting there. So you know what I think?"
Kurt raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Must be a hell of a scary crack in your wall." The Doctor whispered.
. .* . .
Kurt was holding The Doctor's hand as he led him into his room. "Here's my room."
The Doctor whistled. "Quite a room you got here." Kurt smiled, and stayed in the doorway as The Doctor walked over to the wall with the crack.
He ran a long finger over the crack, and whistled. "You got some cowboys in here." The Doctor turned to face him. "Not actual cowboys, though that can happen."
Kurt walked up to The Doctor, turning an apple around in his hand. "I used to hate apples, so my mom put faces on them." He extended it out to The Doctor, the apples two large eyes a wide smile on display.
"She Sounds good, your mum." The Doctor said, tossing the apple in air, before placing it into his pocket. "I'll keep it for later."
The Doctor turned back to the crack, examining it closely. "This wall is solid and the crack doesn't go all the way through it. So here's a thing - where's the draught coming from?" He pulled out a thin metal stick with a blue light at the end, it made a weird buzzing sound as The Doctor ran it along the crack.
Kurt stared at The Doctor; he couldn't see what use a bit of metal was. The Doctor pulled back the stick of metal and stared intently at it, as if reading it, but Kurt couldn't see any screens or things.
"Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey. You know what the crack is?" The Doctor asked.
"What?"
"It's a crack," The Doctor said running a finger over the crack in the plaster. "But, I'll tell you something funny. If you knocked this wall down, the crack would stay put, 'cos the crack isn't in the wall."
"Where is it then?" Kurt snapped.
"Everywhere. In everything. It's a split in the skin of the world. Two parts of space and time that should never have touched, pressed together...right here in the wall of your bedroom." The Doctor pressed his ear to the wall. "Can you hear—?"
"A voice?" Kurt shivered. "Yes."
The Doctor pressed his face closer to the crack, trying to hear to muffled voice. Giving up on his own ears, The Doctor stormed passed Kurt grabbing a glass of water from the bedside table, tossing the water out onto the ground without care.
He placed the glass on the wall, placing his ear on the other end. A muffled voice now loud to The Doctor's ear.
"Prisoner Zero—" The Doctor started repeating.
"Prisoner Zero has escaped." Kurt rattled off from memory. "That's what I heard. What does it mean?"
"It means that, on the other side of this wall there's a prison, and they've lost a prisoner." The Doctor said, stepping back from the wall. "Do you know what that means?"
"What?" Kurt asked.
"You need a better wall." The Doctor picked up Kurt's writing desk, putting it away from the wall. "The only way to close the breach is to open it all the way. The forces will invert and it'll snap itself shut. Or..." The Doctor trailed off.
"What?" Kurt said, slowly.
"You know when grown-ups tell you everything's going to be fine and you think they're probably lying to make you feel better?" The Doctor asked; eyes wide.
"Yes." He was all, all too familiar.
"Everything's going to be fine." The Doctor breathed. He stuck his hand out, which Kurt immediately latched onto. The Doctor raised his other hand, holding up the stick of metal again. Kurt peered around The Doctor, trying to see when a bright light began pouring out of the crack.
Kurt gasped and jumped back when suddenly a dark, dank prison was visible from the crack.
"Prisoner Zero has escaped." The Voice echoing out of the crack.
"Hello? Hello?" The Doctor leaned toward the crack, projecting his voice into the prison. Suddenly a large eye, with a shockingly blue iris filled the crack staring as Kurt and The Doctor.
"What is that?" Kurt asked, shaking. A small electric blue light shot of the crack as it began to close, the eye looking around frantically as it did. The small light hit The Doctor in side making him fall down onto Kurt's bed, releasing Kurt's hand.
"What was that thing? Was that Prisoner Zero?" Kurt asked; his voice high with panic.
"No. I think that was Prisoner Zero's guard. Whatever it was, it sent me a message. Psychic paper, takes a lovely little message. 'Prisoner Zero has escaped.' But why tell us? Unless..." The Doctor trailed off, standing up.
"Unless what?"
The Doctor looked frantically around the room. "Unless Prisoner Zero escaped through here. But he couldn't have. We'd know." The Doctor trailed off again, running out of the room. Kurt spared on glance on the now flawless wall, before shooting off after The Doctor.
Kurt nearly ran into The Doctor as he stood in the center of the main hallway, looking around confused.
"It's difficult. Brand-new me, nothing works yet. But there's something I'm missing..." The Doctor suddenly stilled, turning his head just a fraction to the door at the end of the hallway. "In the corner…of my eye."
Kurt stared up at The Doctor, silence thick. It was broken by the vacuuming noise again, the one Kurt had heard earlier, except this time there was a large dinging bell echoing inside of Kurt's head.
The Doctor took off again, running down the hallway. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" The Doctor burst through the door and out into the front garden. "I've got to get back in there! The engines are phasing, it's gonna burn!"
Kurt skidded to a halt in the garden, The Doctor still there frantically picking up the rope still on the ground. "But it's a box!" He shouted "How can a box have engines?"
The Doctor stood up, the rope wrapped in his hands. "It's not a box. It's a time machine."
"Excuse me? A time machine?" Kurt asked, disbelieving. "A real one?"
"Not for much longer if I can't get her stabilized. Five-minute hop to the future should do it." The Doctor said, as he tide the ropes to the doors of the box…time machine. Kurt looked up at The Doctor, at the wonderful man who had come from the sky, who had destroyed his kitchen, who had listened and fixed what was wrong.
"Can I come?"
"Not yet, five minutes, give me five minutes, I'll be right back." The Doctor shouted, jumping onto the edge of the box.
Kurt felt the familiar press in his chest at those words. "People always say that."
The Doctor turned back to Kurt, jumping off of the edge, landing right in front of him. "Am I people? Do I even look like people? Trust me, I'm The Doctor."
Kurt felt a smile grow over his face. The Doctor mirrored it and climbed back onto the edge of the box. He grabbed the rope that was hanging off the doors, and with one last look at him he jumped.
"GERONIMO!" The Doctor's voice echoed as he fell, until the box doors closed. Kurt laughed as the box began to disappear, his mind filled with the soon-to-happen adventures, he could see coronations, falls of empires, the rise of the same empires, fashion week.
As soon as the box had completely disappeared, Kurt took off back towards the house his heart racing. He ran directly to his bedroom, pulling is suitcase out from underneath his bed. He ran around his room in a daze; grabbing things he knew he would need. Latching the suitcase shut, he pulled on his thick blue wool coat, hat, and gloves. Holding on tightly to his suitcase he ran back into the front garden, putting the suitcase on the ground, and sat on it, his small body tense with excitement.
And he sat like that, for the longest night of his life.
. .*. .
Kurt was shocked awake the next morning by his daddy's voice. His head was pounding and there was sand in his eyes.
He was in his bed.
"Kurt!" His daddy yelled down into the basement. "What happened to the shed?"
Kurt didn't answer; he laid there, feeling a small salty tear roll slowly roll down his cheek.
Author's Note: Hello. This is my very first Glee story, and in fact my very first Doctor Who story. I hope you all like it, I had fun writing it.
The rest will be soon to come.