The Doctor looked around Main Street, knitting his brow, and showing great focus as he searches for the given location. His arch Nemesis known as the Master had returned somehow, and Torchwood discovered he was in America, and upon further investigation, stalking a young girl by the name of Desdemona Williams. Why, no one was sure. Yet. However, Torchwood's very own Captain Jack Harkness had a slight suspicion... but surely it couldn't be. Amy and Rory were long dead, and they hadn't had any children after Melody… but still the suspicion remained. Either way, the timelord had been sent to find the girl and take her away to safety. When Clara died, it had been especially hard on the Doctor. Unlike Rose or the Ponds, this companion could never be seen again. She wasn't trapped in a parallel dimension, or sent back in time, she was simply dead, and could never come back (despite the Doctor's best efforts). Jack hoped that maybe finding Desdemona would help the Doctor move on, but mostly he and the rest of the Torchwood team needed to get the girl to safety so that they could focus on the Master and his motives, and how he was alive in the first place.
As the Gershwin Theatre came into sight, the Eleventh Doctor straightened his bowtie, taking a deep breath and holding onto his psychic paper. As he came to the doors of the theatre, he heard the unmistakable crash of a fallen chandelier. "That does not sound good…" he mumbled as he showed his psychic paper to the woman at the door, who nodded and let him in, saying: "Intermission's just begun, sir."
"Yes, thank you." The Doctor replied, stepping inside.
The size of the theatre was something, but the magnificence of it all was something else. The Doctor, however, hardly stopped to admire the theatre's beauty, rushing straight to the stage. He almost smiled when he noticed the prop chandelier. Nothing real, just part of the show. So the suspicious crash was nothing after all. He wandered a bit until he found an entrance to the backstage. He flashed his physic paper a few more times before he finally made it to see the girl. She was practically shaking with anxiety and nervousness, sighing as she reapplied lipstick, adjusting the pristine curls of her brown wig. She leaned back in her chair in the waiting area, where she listened for the signs of intermission coming to a close. The Doctor saw his chance, and he approached her with great applause, at which she smiled and curtseyed. The Doctor even cracked a smile at the girl, barely 20 years old.
"May I speak with you a moment please?" He asked, bringing his voice down to a more serious tone.
She nodded vigorously, a memory stirring she couldn't quite grasp.
Once they were outside and down a hallway out of sight, The Doctor grimaced.
"I'm sorry." He sighed.
Desdemona barely had time to look confused and/or startled before the Doctor grabbed her wrist tightly and slammed his hand down on the Vortex manipulator.
The girl gasps and steps back from the man as she is transported inside the TARDIS.
She twirled around in a circle, looking around the vast console room.
"What the…" she mumbled
"What did you do!?"
The Doctor smiled sadly. "Don't worry. I'll have you back before Intermission ends."
Desdemona took the whole thing quite well, he thought.
That is, until she collapsed into his arms.
When Desdemona woke up the next morning, the first thing she realized was that she had a horrible headache. Her head was impossibly heavy. Then she realized she was still in her Christine costume, wig too.
She groaned, pulling off the wig and cap. Her head felt about 20 pounds lighter, and she pulled her fingers through her curly auburn hair, picking the clips and pins out.
She peeled off her costume and walked to the closet of her TARDIS room, opening the police-box blue double doors to a walk-in room full of clothes straight from Desdemona's favorite stores. She pulled on a pair of cream-colored jeans, with a sleeveless peach top with an attached collar covered in sparkles. She slung a light blue hoodie over her shoulder just in case. Then something in her brain clicked, and she screamed at the top of her voice, frozen in place.
The Doctor jumped. Was he…? He ran for Des' room, sprinting as fast as he could.
"What's wrong!?" He scanned her with the sonic.
Des frowned angrily. "I'll tell you what's wrong, I am a Broadway star and I have a reputation to uphold, and I MISSED ACT TWO." She wailed, continuing. "And don't you DARE sonic me, funny boy!"
The Doctor tucked the screwdriver in his jacket meekly. "Sorry.." He cleared his throat gently. "This is a time machine…I can get you back if you'd like."
Des stared at him.
He stared back.
They both blinked simultaneously.
'Prove it." The girl dared him.
The response came in a single word. "Gladly."
He pressed some buttons, and flipped some switches and pulled some levers. "Open the doors." He smiled.
Des pulled the doors open gently, and peaked outside.
"Well there you have it." She squeaked.
"There you have it…" The Doctor agreed.
What was it about this girl. She seemed to know so much, with so little. Like she knew all the details, but missed the main ideas.
She seemed empty and full, hot and cold, light and dark, all at once.
She knew so much, with so little.
She must be further investigated.