"WRITER. YOU ARE ENCOURAGED TO SURRENDER YOUR TARDIS BEFORE YOUR TARDIS IS DESTROYED," the automated message barked from Hamlet's monitor.

"HIS NAME IS HAMLET!" the Time Lady shouted back, even though she knew her pursuers couldn't hear her. Hamlet ricocheted and rocked through the time vortex. His stabilizers were down.

"WRITER. YOU ARE ENCOURAGED TO SURRENDER YOUR TARDIS BEFORE YOUR TARDIS IS DESTROYED." Sparks flew from the dashboard as the Writer pushed Hamlet harder and harder.

"You'll never take us alive!" she answered the message. Hamlet gave a sharp Bong! "Oh, don't be ridiculous darling, I'd never let them do that." The TARDIS shook roughly again. He couldn't take much more of this.

"WRITER. YOU ARE ENCOURAGED TO SURRENDER YOUR TARDIS BEFORE YOUR TARDIS IS DESTROYED."

"Come on, Hammy, you can make it. Just a little bit further. I have an idea." Hamlet made a crashing lunge. Sparks exploded. The Writer screamed.

Then all was still. Even the warning message stopped its haunting chant. The Writer popped up from under the dashboard and straightened her square glasses. "Alright, we haven't got much time." She rushed around, readying the Psychic Transplant Machine. Hamlet bonged again. "I know it's risky, darling, but we don't have much choice at this point." She had hooked it up. She lay down on the narrow bed of the stasis chamber. "Once I leave, put me in stasis until I get back. Security Code Sigma." She smiled impishly. "See you soon." She pushed the red button in her lap.


The new mother smiled as she held her newborn daughter in her arms. The doctor asked her what she wanted to name her.

"Cynthia."


"Ugh, it's Cynthia again." Sandra commented to Cally, seeing the shy brunette attending her locker in the hallway. Cally nodded.

"She so quiet," the second girl whispered back. "It's creepy."

"Yeah, and she talks to herself. I see her doing it at lunch."

"So weird."

"I'm glad she's graduating this year. Then we won't have to be bothered by her again." Cally nodded and the girls continued to head towards their class.


Cynthia sat on her living room floor, writing in a notebook. She had gotten a great idea for a story, and the creation of it was going fabulously, but now she needed a word... it was just lingering on the far edges of her mind, but she couldn't quite reach it... she sighed. She hated when this happened. She considered getting her laptop and looking for a reasonable substitute on . She knew she'd never find exactly what she was looking for. She heard a slight fluctuating whirr. She ignored it. Probably just traffic. The noise grew louder. Suddenly a strong wind blew through the room, flipping the pages of Cynthia's notebook. She looked up and stared. A blue police box was slowly materializing right in front of her. She stood and scrambled backward. The noise and the wind stopped. The door creaked open. A tall, thin man with spiky brown hair stepped out. He froze as his brown eyes locked on to Cynthia's icy blue ones, and both people stood and gawked at each other for a long, awkward while.

"Well," he said at last. "This is awkward." Cynthia just nodded. "Umm..." he sighed. "The easiest way to explain this is for you to get in the box."

"Um, no." Cynthia replied.

"Aw, come on, why not?"

"Let's think about this for a moment: strange man appears in my living room and asks me to get in the box."

"Alright, I know this sounds bad, but how could it not sound bad?"

"If this was a magic show that went horribly wrong." Cynthia answered. "Are you a magician?"

"Well, no, but -"

"I didn't think so."

"Look, if you would just get in the box..."

"What's the big deal about the box anyway?"

"Oi, now, don't say that too loud; she'll get angry."

"Wait, she?!" The strange man sighed with extreame annoyance and then launched into an overwhelmingly fast, incredibly technical description of something or another. About five minutes into it, Cynthia couldn't take it anymore. "Alright, question," she interrupted. "If I go into the box will you stop talking?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed impatiently.

"Alright, fine," Cynthia agreed. "At least you're attractive."


The Doctor was so relieved when he finally got the girl into the TARDIS. He had to admit, it did look really bad. But the TARDIS took him here for a reason. He had to meet that girl, whatever the TARDIS's justification. After reaching the control panel he looked back at the girl. She seemed to be having the normal reaction. The young girl stared around the TARDIS in confused amazement. She seemed human enough. A teenager, probably. Short, dark brown hair. Icy blue eyes. Average dress for the time period. But the TARDIS wanted him to meet her for some reason.

"It's called a TARDIS," the Doctor began to explain. "Time And Relative Dimension In Space. It's essentially a living machine capable of traveling anywhere in the universe." She looked more confused.

"But.. how did you... hold on," she stuttered. She began to flip through the pages of her notebook. "How did you know about TARDISes? I thought I... I thought I came up with them."

"What?"

"Look, I've got everything you just said written down right here." The Doctor looked at the entry in the notebook.

T.A.R.D.I.S.

Time And Relative Dimension In Space. A T.A.R.D.I.S is essentially a living machine with the capability to transverse both time and space.

The Doctor couldn't believe his eyes.

"Where did you come up with this?"

"It was a... a dream I had..." she was wincing, like she was in pain. She clutched her forehead. "Oooh!" She collapsed. The Doctor felt himself panic.

"Are you alright?!" He glanced at the cover of the notebook: Property of Cynthia. "Cynthia, are you ok?" He put his hand on her shoulder. Suddenly she relaxed.

"Oi," she said in a slightly different tone, "Laissez faire, Theta Sigma." The Doctor jumped back about five feet. How did she know that name?

"What?!"

"Easy there, Thete, I was only kidding." She stood up and looked at him. Even her expression was different now.

"What?!"

"Oh, darling, you are quite jumpy. I hope I haven't frightened you too badly."

"What?!"

"Calm down, you'll give yourself a heart attack."

"Who... who are you?"

"Oh, you don't recognize me? I have changed a lot, and you always did have the most terrible memory." Her demeanor suddenly shifted back to the way the Doctor had met her. "Oi, answer the man's question. I'd kinda like to know that too." She shifted back to weird again. "Oh, come on, Cynthia, tell me you recognize your own imaginary friend." Another shift. "Well, yeah, but you're not supposed to be taking over my body and talking with my voice. That's not how it works." Shift again. "Sorry about that darling, I'll get this worked out as soon as possible. But, Doctor, it's me. The Writer. From the Academy? I covered your soap bar with nail polish once." The Doctor shuddered.

"I remember," he replied. Then he realized that this couldn't be happening. "What! No. I don't believe you."

"Oh, why not?"

"Because it's completely impossible!"

"I can prove it."

"Try me."

"Su ranu maku darin day, tu canu remu pasin te." That evidence was pretty conclusive. The Writer shifted back into Cynthia.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"It's Gallifreyan. Nothing to fancy; it was a nursery rhyme we learned as children."

"But... but how'd you get out of the time lock?" Suddenly she looked shocked.

"They time locked the war? Blimey, I've missed a lot. How bad did it get?" The Doctor struggled against all of the terrible memories that began surfacing in his mind.

"It was Hell," he choked out. "Hell itself."

"Oh no," the Writer moaned, crestfallen. "Now I feel terrible. I abandoned everybody..." The Doctor ran up to her and grabbed her shoulders. She looked up into his eyes.

"Listen to me," he insisted, "what you did was the absolute best thing you could ever have done. Don't feel bad about it. You have absolutely no idea what finding you right now means to me." She smiled a little bit. Then Cynthia was back.

"Could somebody please explain to me what the hell is going on here?!"

"Cynthia, darling, I'll clear this up later. Right now, I simply must get my body back. The moment they detect my psychic wavelength they'll be on me like Americans on a Twinkie truck." The Doctor quickly became nervous. How could he tell her?

"I... don't think they will."

"Why not?" she asked, concern growing on her face. "I'm a deserter and a traitor, and lately they haven't been very kind about such things."

"Because... because they're all dead! All of them! They're all dead..."

"I... I don't believe it. We lost?"

"Everyone lost. Daleks, Time Lords... everyone. Everyone is dead.

"Everyone..." Her face became covered in shock and despair. "How can you be sure?"

"How can I be sure... I killed them! All of them! I killed them all." He paused to try and breathe. "I used the Moment. I had to! They were going to begin the Ultimate Sanction. I couldn't... I couldn't let that happen. And I never thought I'd have to confront that again! But then you show up, and you just had to ask!" He stopped, on the verge of tears.

"Do you need a hug?"

"No! I'm... I'm fine."

"A fine liar maybe. You need a hug." She walked up and pinned his arms to his sides with a big hug. He had to admit, it made him feel better. Like his people had forgiven him. Except then she shifted back into Cynthia again.

"Can you get out of my body before you two start this lovely relationship?" she asked, releasing the Doctor. Cynthia shifted into the Writer.

"Right. I do need to get my body back. By the way my consciousness is expanding, within a few hours poor Cynthia will be completely crushed. And besides, this multiple-personality issue is getting really confusing for all of us." She shifted back.

"Amen!"

"Right, well," the Doctor transitioned, "we'd better get on that then. Where did you leave it?"

"In Hamlet." The Doctor sighed. She always did like calling her TARDIS Hamlet. He could never understand why.

"And where did you leave Hamlet?" She looked about to say something before she stopped.

"I - don't actually know." The Doctor covered his face with one hand.

"Right. Well, I can do a scan for alien technology..."

"That won't work. Before I left, I activated Security Code Sigma. That's a level 27 perception filter. There isn't a device in the universe to date that I can think of that could detect him."

"Level 27?" he questioned. "How'd you get it up so high?"

"Oh, Thete, you know I've always had a knack for those things. Remember when I -"

"Yes. I remember. And it was embarrassing, thank you." The Doctor sighed. The Writer was so annoying when they were kids. Hopefully she'd matured, or this was going to be a long day. "Well, let's see... you used a psychic transplant, so unless you also have a knack for those, you must have been within a mile of Cynthia when you performed the transplant."

"So the real question was, where was I?" Cynthia piped up. "I don't ever remember not knowing you. I must have been very young."

"Hm, let me see. I might have gathered something before being fully compressed... It was dark, I know that. And we were getting pushed towards something. And then... light. Blinding light. Someone picked us up..."

"She was being born!" the Doctor concluded. "And that means you were in a hospital!"

"Yes! Quick, Cynthia, which hospital were you born in?"

"Umm... hold on, let me think... Royal Hope! Royal Hope Hospital. At least, that's what my mom told me. I see no reason for her to be lying."

"Right, so we look there." The Doctor turned to the TARDIS's control panel. "Allons-y!"