Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. I just watch and enjoy it. :)

Welcome to the 2nd fanfic I have ever written! This takes place somewhere between Season 6-7 ish. (post Ponds, pre Clara) Enjoy!

December 10, 2079

The nighttime sky was a vast array of stars stretching over the world like a great canopy, hiding the sun once again. With the darkness came harsh winter frost filling the quiet air. Beyond the sky, the universe was quiet and peaceful as Earth slept below.

The autumn color was gone from the woods and only empty skeletons of trees remained. They rocked uneasily in the moaning wind. Their branches creaked and shuddered. The forest had become a graveyard, cold and dead.

On that quiet winter night, the trees harbored a small child in their care. He lay huddled against a tall oak tree, shivering whenever the breeze picked up. The only warmth he had was that of hot tears constantly rolling down his pale cheeks. He hid his face in his arms as another wave of sobs overtook him.

Perhaps the universe was not at peace that night.

He felt alone. No one understood. And no one would tell him what was wrong with him. He was "too young", they said. He wouldn't understand, they said. It made him angry, not in the way seven-year-olds get angry because something isn't fair, but in the way adults get angry when something is actually wrong. That was why he had to run away. And that was why he was lost in the woods.

The more he thought about it, the worse he felt. He was angry and sad all at the same time. He felt his arm. It burned under his touch, and he pulled away. The mixed emotions brought more tears.

But between sobs, he heard a distant sound. He held his breath, thinking it was his teacher coming to scold him for running away after curfew. But he wasn't hearing footsteps. What he heard was a sound he couldn't describe. It was a deep, whirring sound, raspy and persistent. It got louder, then faded, and then rose again. It died away one final time. The child froze, still holding his tears to listen. There was a soft squeak, like a door opening. Then came hasty, confused footsteps. When he listened closer, he heard soft muttering. The boy dug his head into his arms and waited. But all had fallen silent. He finally gathered up the courage to call out:

"T-teacher? Is that you?" He looked around nervously. "I'm sorry I ran away. I promise I'll never do it again - "

"Why not? Running off is good fun. Good for the ol' ticker. A good thrill. I've been running since I can remember and I'm still going strong. But tell me - why have you been running?"

The boy looked up and jumped back when he saw a thin, long-legged man standing over him. He hugged his knees tighter. The man didn't say anything more. He simply stared. In the pale light of the moon, the boy couldn't make out much of his face. His voice had sounded old, but from what the child could see, the man wasn't old. He was in fact quite young. He wore strange clothes, a shirt with a collar and a brown coat - things the boy had seen in history museums, but never on actual people. It was odd, old clothing. A red cloth was tied around his neck - a bow-tie, he thought they were called. What was he doing wearing clothes like that?

He stared back at the man, with a mixture of fear and curiosity. He was not quite sure what to make of him. The question the man had asked still hung in the air unanswered. The man moved slowly toward him with a strange half-smile on his face. He walked like an old man too, slowly and curiously, with his head cocked to one side. His thick eyebrows were furrowed in what seemed like concern. It made the boy warier. Finally, the young-old man spoke.

"It's all right you know. You can trust me." he said quietly. His voice was slow and deliberate. It chose its words carefully. But it did not quell the scared child's fears. He only became more curious.

"Who are you?" asked the boy. He wiped forgotten tears from his eyes. It was an innocent enough question, and children do not always think sensitively.

The man's smile widened to a grin. "I'm the Doctor."

The boy's eyes widened when he realized what the man was there for. "No," his voice rose. "No, I don't need a doctor. Whatever they say, I'm not sick. I'm fine."

"Really?" asked the Doctor cryptically. "Because tonight I heard a cry for help, a tiny cry for help. And it was coming from here. Of all the cries of the universe, I heard yours. And you know what, the people who say they don't need a doctor are the ones who need one most."

This did nothing to calm the child's fears. In fact, it made him more fearful. The Doctor saw red, chafed patterns on his cheeks. His eyes were sunken and tired, and they glowed with half-dry tears. He softened his tone.

"I'm not a Doctor for sick people. I'm a bit different than that." he said. "Of course, I have a name, but that wouldn't help you. There are stories behind names. Mine has quite a story."

He approached the boy. This time, the child remained still and expectant. The Doctor slowly lowered himself to the child's level and shifted his weight to his haunches. They looked straight into each other's eyes. The Doctor was surprised by the power of the child's stare. It wasn't an innocent boy staring up at him, it was a serious gaze, one that wanted answers that were hard to give.

"What about your name? What kind of story do you have? It's not often that I meet lost little boys in the forest."

The boy sniffled, but didn't avert his gaze. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because every story is important, and it's never good to be lost in one. I'm lost too, actually. My T - my...ship - malfunctioned...somewhat...can I ask a delicate question?"

"What?"

"What year is it?"

The boy grimaced. "It's...2079. December 10th."

"Oh," the Doctor's face lit up. "Good year. 2079. Haven't visited in a bit. Good year."

"What are you talking about?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Oh, don't mind me. I'm old. I reminisce."

"You don't look very old." The boy scrutinized him suspiciously.

"Look who's talking." murmured the Doctor. "And how old are you, little fellow?"

"Seven." said the boy proudly.

"Seven. That's a lot of responsibility." The child let a small smile grow on his face as he blushed bashfully. "Now, there's a smile. See, not that hard, is it? Can you tell me your name now?"

The boy looked up at him again with reluctance. He had large green eyes that were bright and intelligent. The Doctor could tell he was wise beyond his years.

"My name is Vale. Vale Ravensgate."

"Vale." The Doctor played with the name. "Good name. Means 'goodbye', doesn't it? 'Farewell'?" Vale shrugged. "It's not often you hear a name like Vale. It's not an earth name. Someone named you Vale for a reason. It can't be an earth name."

"It's not." said Vale.

"Someone was saying goodbye to you. Why?"

"I don't know. I'm not from earth."

"Where are you from?"

Vale sighed heavily. "The Teacher found me here." He looked around at the vast woods around him. Then he looked at the Doctor with a challenging glance. "Where are you from?"

"Me?" His question took the Doctor by surprise. "Oh, I come from everywhere."

"Everywhere? But everyone has to come from somewhere."

"I'm not everyone." admitted the Doctor. "I just haven't found the right place yet."

Vale lifted his eyes to meet the Doctor's again. "Neither have I." he said with certainty. Vale found he was liking the man more and more. There was something not quite right with the Doctor, something odd and mysterious. He certainly wasn't a normal doctor, one with needles and a cold, stern voice. This Doctor was different than all the doctors Vale had known. And he had known many. And he hated them all. But not this one.

"So, that cry for help." said the Doctor. "I assume it was from you, or else there wouldn't be tears in your eyes."

"Don't tell anyone." whispered Vale urgently, as if there was someone around to tell. He tugged at his shirt sleeve. "Please. Teacher will beat me again. He - "

"Teacher?" The Doctor grimaced. "Teacher of what? And why is he beating you?"

"Teacher of life." explained Vale. It was the Doctor's turn to be confused. "You don't know what a Teacher of Life is?"

The Doctor shook his head vaguely. "I think we used to call them Fathers, but I don't know if we're thinking of the same thing. But go on."

"Well," Valedor hesitated, "I go to Life School with a lot of other boys. It's where you go if you don't have a family. But..."

"But what?"

"I'm not like them. And they all know it and Teacher knows it. And Teacher makes sure no one forgets it. They're all from earth and I'm not, and they don't like...aliens."

The Doctor scoffed. "I know an alien when I see one and you're not an alien, trust me."

"That's not what they say."

"Doesn't matter what they say. They haven't seen the universe like I have. Many things make up the universe and they all have a purpose," explained the Doctor. "Now, you said you're not like them. Why?"

Vale hesitated. It was obviously something he didn't want to talk about. The Doctor patted his shoulder encouragingly, and Vale looked at him. The Doctor's eyes were old, though they were surrounded by a youthful knew a lot of secrets, held a lot of history. Surely, Vale thought, those eyes could hold one more story.

"They won't tell me what it is." he said simply. He lifted his left arm and opened the sleeve, turning it so the soft flesh of his wrist was exposed. "What do you think?"

The Doctor squinted at the image in the dark. It was a maze of blue lines, almost like veins. They were etched down Vale's wrist. They were not curved, but straight and square. Giving it another glance, the Doctor reached into his blazer pocket.

"You're a Doctor." Vale continued. "Can you fix it?"

The Doctor bit his lip as he took out his sonic screwdriver and pointed it at the network of veins. The screwdriver whirred as it glowed green on Vale's skin. The child watched it, blinking.

The Doctor whipped the screwdriver around to look at the reading. "Unknown." he muttered. He said to Vale, "I don't think I can quite tell you either."

Vale's mouth hung open, and his eyes sunk again. Tears welled at their corners. "Unknown? You mean...there's no way I can get better?"

The tone of the boy's voice broke the Doctor's hearts. He didn't know what to say. Usually, he could help anyone. But Vale was a special boy - different, unique. Unknown. He was smarter than a seven-year-old child. He hated to see Vale distraught, helpless.

"Listen." the Doctor said quietly. He leaned in. A tear rolled down Vale's cheek. "I've crossed the universe, I've seen stars you can't see in the sky, seen things you can't even dream of. I've met a lot of hopeless people, and I've given them hope. What I'm trying to say is - "

"You can't help me." Vale concluded gloomily.

"Well, yes. Put it that way, I guess." shrugged the Doctor. "But that doesn't mean you can't have hope."

Vale sniffled. "I don't know what hope will do for me now." he admitted. "I'm still scared."

"Oh, you will be." said the Doctor. "The Unknown is supposed to be scary." He winked. "That's what makes it fun." He looked at Vale sideways. "Are you sure you can't tell me more about your...problem?"

Vale shook his head. "I wish I could."

"Well," shrugged the Doctor, "you can't know everything."

He ruffled the boy's tousled dark hair. "I can tell that you're a good lad, and I'm sorry I can't help you."

"That's all right." said Vale, slightly sullen. "I haven't found anyone who can yet."

The Doctor poked Vale in the chest. Vale grimaced. "I promise that someday I'll come back, when I find out more."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

The Doctor stood up and grunted, rubbing his knee. "Ooh," he moaned. "I think my age is catching up to me."

Vale stood up as well, facing him. He was smaller than the Doctor had thought. He was barely level with the Doctor's belt buckle. Vale looked up at him with honest green eyes. He extended his hand.

"Thank you, sir," he said softly. "Whoever you are."

The Doctor took his hand and shook it heartily. "Don't mention it." he smiled. "I have to get back to my ship now. But before I do, you need to promise me something, too."

"What?"

"That you'll be strong, and you won't listen to anything anyone tells you about being an alien."

Vale smiled without hesitation. "I promise."

"Good lad." said the Doctor. "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you...at some point."

Before Vale could answer, the man disappeared into the forest. Soon after, Vale heard the whirring sound he had heard before. The Doctor was gone and Vale was alone again. He felt the darkness creep in again.

Then he remembered the mad man's words, and repeated them over in his head.

I promise I'll be strong. No matter what they say, I'll be strong...