Hey guys! Hope everyone had a good holiday! For those of you who might have checked out my Fullmetal Alchemist fic, Puzzle Pieces (previously named Don't Look at Me Like That), I just want to say that I'm still working on that. But I had the killer urge recently, with season 8 and the 12th Doctor (who I love!) and the Christmas special, to write a new Doctor Who story. So here I am, and I'm really excited for this. I want to say thanks to Heycassbut for all her amazing help with this and for being basically my new best friend. You should check out her Doctor Who story, Chasing Cars, because her OC is adorable and it's just an all-around fantastic fic. Moving on! This fic will follow the show, and I have all the information about my OC listed on my profile, including her Face Claim and a picture of her Face Claim (or rather a link to it) and if I really feel like it, I might include Polyvore things and other stuff of what she's wearing. Also, I should mention that Fi, short for Felicity, is pronounced like Fee, not like Fie/Fye/I don't know. And… I think that's everything I wanted to say. Don't forget to review! Reviews keep me going and lets me know what you guys think of things and all that good stuff. So you should review. Yep.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, unfortunately for me because then I would be rich and I could be best buddies with David Tennant and Catherine Tate and we'd be bros and also I'm pretty sure I could do a better job than Moffat. I don't own any characters except for my OC's and the original portions of the plot of this story. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Who I Used to Be

"It is never too late to be what you might have been."

George Eliot

Have you ever had one of those days where you just don't feel right? You're not sick and you're not hurt and there's logically no reason for you to feel like a giant ball of crap, but you do feel like a giant ball of crap and nothing you do can change it? One of those days where you want to do everything but then when you start to do something you had wanted to, you suddenly find that it suddenly sounds dull and unappealing? You feel sad and lonely, and lost. And you don't know why. All you know is that you just feel… wrong. Have you ever had one of those days? I have. Every single day of my life.

My name was Felicity Brooks. Yes, that's right, past tense. As in that's not who I am anymore. She's a person who I used to be, or maybe never was. Maybe she never even existed. That sounded a lot less confusing in my head. You'll understand soon, I promise. No, I'm not dead. That's not what I mean. I'm just… different. I never was very good at explaining things. That hasn't changed. I suppose I should just show you, instead of trying to tell you. But listen closely, because this is my story. It's not really a good story so much as it's an interesting one, but it is mine. So pay attention.

~X~

"Any day now, Dad…" I sighed as I checked the time on my phone again. It was almost 9:30 at night and still there was no sign of my father. Not that him being home late was anything new, but every night I found myself hoping he'd be home at a decent time and the majority of those night I was disappointed. I looked up from my phone at the full plate of baked macaroni that sat on the other side of our small kitchen table and, deciding that two hours was long past the reheat point, stood to begin cleaning up. The dishes had been done an hour ago after I realized I would be eating alone and had my share of the mac and cheese so all that was left was to put a layer of aluminum foil over the plate and leave it in the microwave, ready to be warmed up whenever he walked in the door.

It wasn't like I was surprised that he was late once again. My father worked as a doctor, the surgeon kind, at the largest hospital in Albany. We had moved here from New York City five years ago when I was 12 and my parents had gotten a divorce. My father had decided he needed a change of scenery, and had gotten the hospital he'd worked at to transfer him to their sister hospital. Being a doctor was demanding work, though, and my father was determined that we would live the same kind of life that we had lived in New York City, even without my mother's income and even though I had told him time and time again that I was okay if we had to cut back on things, so he worked more hours than he probably should have been working. In conclusion, I never got to see him. Most nights he worked late, and even when he said he would be home early or on time it was still rare that he actually managed to do it. Being home by myself all the time also meant that dinner was my responsibility basically every night. He always told me not to worry about him, that he would get something to eat when he got home, but I always felt bad because that meant I was leaving him to scrounge for scraps in the fridge at 11 o'clock at night. So whenever I made dinner, I made enough for the two of us. The downside? I hated to cook. I wasn't good at it. The only kind of food making I could handle was baking. Don't ask me why, but whenever I cooked dinner it came out bland and tasteless or way too seasoned or some other sort of terrible. However, I could make really simple things like baked mac and cheese or spaghetti and meatballs. But who wants to eat that all the time? Well, I did, but that was beside the point.

The notification sound on my phone went off just as I finished putting his plate in the microwave. It was a text from my father. "Sorry, sweetie, but it looks like I'll be stuck here late. Won't be home until at least 11. I'll see you in the morning. Love you, Fi." Like I said, I wasn't surprised. It just… It sucked. I never got to see my dad, and I was constantly stuck hanging out in our apartment by myself with just our dog to keep my company, and I had just spent the last two hours waiting for him when I could have been doing something fun. Like watching Doctor Who.

Now that I had nothing to do, I went to the living room and flopped over on the couch. It wasn't long before our 13 year old dog, Athena, came out to greet me by laying her head on the cushion next to mine and licking my cheek. She was an old mixed-breed dog, between a German Shepherd and a Golden Lab, and I'd had her since I was four. She kept me company when I was lonely and I loved her for it. I wouldn't have traded her for the world. Sitting up, I placed her head in my lap and began scratching her behind the ear, her favorite spot, as I tried to think of something to occupy my time until I went to bed in a few hours. "Do you wanna watch some Doctor Who with me, girl? Huh, do ya?" Of course, she had no idea what I was saying and just wagged her tail, happy that someone was paying attention to her. Then an idea struck me.

I grabbed my phone off the couch cushion next to me and hit the call button on Lexi's name in my text messages. Lexi was my best friend, had been since I moved here five years back. She was the first friend I had made and really the only friend I still had. I didn't really like people, but Lexi had a way of making me laugh that I couldn't live without, especially since I was alone so often. And she was a Whovian so she was just that much better.

She picked up after three rings and I could practically hear the smile on her face. "Hey, Fi! I was just about to text you! What's shakin', bacon?"

I was off the couch and walking to my bedroom, Athena trailing behind me, before I even asked the question, "Dad's working late again tonight. Can I sleep over? We can watch David Tennant on Netflix."

"Why do you ask? You should just come over. You know I'm going to say yes. If my mother knew you still asked before you came over she'd kill me. She likes you better than me. She always says you're like the daughter she never had." Of course, she was joking. Her mother was absolutely amazing and gave me dinner to take home for my father a lot so I wouldn't have to cook. And I loved her mother, but it just reminded me of how much my own mother had left us and never looked back and of how long I could spend without seeing my father, between my going to school and work and his job. But it was still better than being home alone.

Lexi was like a sister to me and I had to laugh at the scolding tone in her voice that I had bothered to ask if I could come over. "I'm bringing Athena." I couldn't leave her home alone, especially when I didn't know what time my dad would be home, because she was getting old and had to go to the bathroom more frequently now. I also felt bad leaving her home alone.

"Naturally." And that was why she was my best friend and the only one I'd ever need. Of course, I would have traded a million sleepovers with her for a trip with the Doctor in the TARDIS, but we all knew that was never going to happen.

We said goodbye and hung up, with my promise to be at her house in about half an hour. It only took me a few minutes to pack a bag with pajamas for the night, clothes for the morning, my toothbrush, deodorant, and my stuffed giraffe, Chester, who I couldn't sleep without. It might have been childish but it was just something I had to have, and Lexi never poked fun. I also threw in Athena's travel bowls and some food for her in the morning.

Before I could leave, I went to the kitchen and scribbled a note for my father on a pad of paper that we kept on the front of the fridge. "I'm sleeping over at Lexi's tonight. Took Athena with me so she wouldn't be lonely. Baked Mac is in the microwave for you. Don't put it on for more than two minutes or it could get rubbery. Hope you got home by midnight so you can get some sleep. Love you, Fi." Attaching the leash to Athena's collar, I locked the front door and headed out with her.

Lexi lived about fifteen minutes away on foot if I was by myself, but it took about twice that to get there with Athena. She wasn't slow by any means, but she had to stop and smell everything. I didn't mind. I had no way of knowing how many more years I would have her with me, and if she wanted to smell things while she still could then I wouldn't get in the way of that. I was an awesome dog owner.

I was feeling excited about spending the night at Lexi's. It was a Friday, which meant we could stay up late watching Doctor Who reruns on Netflix and get to sleep in. It also meant she could read the first chapter of my fanfiction. Naturally, it was for Doctor Who and I had finished the chapter earlier, but I always liked for her to proof read my chapters before I posted them up. I was terrible with typos because I hated rereading my own work. It was about a girl named Evangeline who didn't much like her life and, when she runs into the Doctor on one of his adventures by accident, she jumps at the chance to travel with him. I didn't have a lot planned out yet except for who Evangeline was and I was still developing the plot a bit, but I was excited for it. I loved writing, and I loved fanfiction, especially when it came to Doctor Who fanfiction because then I could sort of live vicariously through my OC and pretend that the Doctor had whisked me away from my failure of a life.

I say failure because life had been less than stellar to me thus far. My mother had all but abandoned me and I my father worked so much that I hardly saw him anymore. The worst part? They weren't even my parents. I shouldn't say that. I had been adopted by them when I was eight years old, after being found, abandoned, on the corner of the street. I didn't have any memories from before that, though, so I couldn't tell you who abandoned me or why, or where I had been for those eight years of my life. My father had found me, and they adopted me not long after. They were the only parents I had ever known and I didn't even care that my father wasn't my actual father. Jack treated me like his daughter and that was all that mattered. I just wished he was home more often. But some part of me was happy he worked, because I couldn't handle the guilt of it all when he was home and alone with just me and our dog. It was my fault they had gotten a divorce. They had run into money issues when I was ten and, although Dad had sorted them out after a year or so, it had created a rift in their marriage that they couldn't fix or, rather, that she didn't want to fix. So she left. And it was my fault… because if they hadn't adopted me they wouldn't have had the money issues of having an extra person in the house to take care. I knew it was true. I had overheard my mother telling my dad that one night. And my father was miserable and working a million hours a week because of me.

I tried not to think about it and looked down at Athena, who had stopped to smell some flowers growing in the front of someone's porch. "Come on, girl, you've smelled those flowers a million times. Hell, you just smelled them the other day. They haven't changed that much." After another moment, she lost interest and continued walking.

That was when the toes of my foot caught on the sidewalk and I tripped, falling onto the sidewalk. I landed with a hard thud and felt the skin of my arms and knees scrape painfully. I looked back to see the culprit but I only found a piece of uneven sidewalk. Strange. I walked this way at least five times a week, more if you count the return trip back to my place, and I had never noticed that before. I had definitely never tripped over it before.

"You okay, girl-" I looked up at Athena to make sure she was alright and I hadn't pulled too hard on her collar when I fell, to find her taking off down the sidewalk in front of me after a squirrel. "Athena! Come back!" No, I couldn't lose her.

Ignoring the pain in my arms and legs and the bag of sleep over stuff that was now strewn over the sidewalk, I jumped to my feet and began to chase after her. I must have lost her leash when I fell. How could I be so stupid? I couldn't lose her. She was all the family I had, except for Dad, but she was always around. What would I do without her? She couldn't live out on her own either. She wasn't equipped for it! I had to get her back. "Athena! Come here, girl!" But she wouldn't listen. The squirrel, that stupid squirrel, just kept running in front of her. If only that piece of crap rodent would run up the telephone pole or something.

"No, Athena, stop!" Without even hesitating for a split second, my best friend dashed across the intersection. I couldn't breathe for a moment as I watched her run in front of a car which slammed on its brakes, and make it to the next sidewalk. For an old dog, she was fast. Faster than I was. I waited for the car to pass, and I dashed across the street after her. Please stop, Athena. I need you.

I didn't look both ways before running across the street, but I should have. I heard the car horn honking at me too late. When I finally did notice, everything went dark. Please, Lexi, find Athena.

~X~

"Evie?"

Whatever that word was, it was foreign to me and my pounding head. My brain felt like it was going to explode. Ugh, what the hell happened?

My eyes flew open with a start. Athena! Was she okay? Was I okay? Holy crap, where was I?

I took a deep breath to calm my screaming heart and looked around but I didn't recognize my surroundings. I was lying on a bed, comfortable I had to admit, with a blue and purple polka-dotted bedspread. It reminded me of my room at home somewhat, except for the bed and the color of the walls, which were also purple. The furniture looked practically the same and the carpeting was the same color as my own bedroom. Even the stars, painted onto the walls in various different colors, were the same. What in the ever loving fuck was going on?

"Evangeline?" Suddenly the bedroom door opened and a dark haired woman entered the room. "Are you feeling okay?" She had an English accent and it took a moment for my mind to register what she was saying and to understand it.

What did she call me? Evangeline? That wasn't my name. My name was Felicity. Evangeline was the name of my… Well, that just wasn't possible. Evangeline was the name of my character for my Doctor Who fanfiction. She was looking at me, concern written all over her face and expecting an answer from me. "What?" was all I could think of to say. And then I couldn't say anymore, because I didn't recognize my own voice. The tone was the same, but instead of my plain old American accent, I had an English one. And I knew it was an actual accent because I had tried giving myself an English accent before and it was absolutely terrible. Why did I have an English accent?

"I asked if you were alright, Evie," the woman said again as she sat down on the end of the bed. "You said you weren't feeling well. You've been asleep for almost two hours now."

"I wasn't feeling well?" Oh, wow, that accent was weird. Not going to get used to that. As I looked at the woman before me, it began to dawn on me. This was Regina, Evangeline's friend and her guardian. Evangeline was an orphan, like I was, but she had grown up in foster care until she was fifteen and she was taken in by a good friend who adopted her. This was that friend, Regina Green. And if I was suddenly English and being called Evangeline, and this was Regina… Did that mean I was in my fanfiction…?

Before I said anymore and gave myself more of a headache with my new accent, I stood up from the bed and stumbled over to the mirror on the closet door. And then my jaw dropped.

My long dark brown hair was the same length and style and my eyebrows were the same color, but it had been dyed an electric blue color. My whole head was blue. Everything else was just about the same. My eyes were still two different colors, with my right eye being grey and my left eye blue, and I still had the same milky white skin. I didn't really know why, but when I had made her, I had given her all of the same features, aside from the blue hair and her tattoos. Her tattoos. I was wearing a long sleeved shirt so I rolled my sleeves up. Written on the inside of my wrists, in black cursive tattoo ink, was the quote I had given Evangeline, "Dream as if you'll live forever; Live as if you'll die today." I was sure if I checked the other two spots, I would find the other tattoos there. I, Felicity, had never gotten tattoos, so the fact that they were suddenly there meant…

I was Evangeline.

But did that mean I was in Doctor Who?