This is my first Doctor Who story ever. I've been a fan for a long time but were always a bit afraid of writing FanFiction but well... here I am now. These are going to be the adventures of Grace and Nine but will probably at some point also go to the stories of the show. Unfortunately I don't own anything of Doctor Who and also don't have a role in it. (Well, maybe one day. Who knows what's still coming?)
Grace Carter, just a sixteen year old girl you might say, had very often found her way to the local graveyard in the past years. People who knew her briefly suggested that this simply came with the way she dressed like, what music she listened to, what books she read and what she spoke about. But this of course was ridiculous. There is always so much to learn from so many things we have not seen yet. So at least Grace liked to think and because she was drawn to places and things most people were afraid of she always sat alone on the little bench next to a dark green tree on the graveyard. For her this was one of her favourite places, it had always been. The peaceful silence, the movement of the trees in the wind and the look of those beautiful made gravestones that could tell so many stories. Venomous tongues even whispered that Grace stayed over night on the graveyard but she had never cared about such rumours, she even found it funny sometimes that people looked at her, thought she was weird and quickly walked away. Grace Carter had got used to the fact of being alone years ago. As long as she had books, music and something to write everything else did not matter.
On the bench now she sat with a small red notebook in her hand writing once again one of her poems. She had come here again to get some rest, here no one disturbed her, here nobody saw her looking, although she did not want to admit it, depressed. She did not have this feeling all the time but within the last couple of months it had come to her more often over the time. There was this strange feeling she could not explain: it was like something was missing, nothing materialistic but the simple feeling like there was still something out there she had not seen yet but knew she would have liked to have it…
Grace raised the head from her poem. She needed to come up with the next two lines. She let her eyes wander around and looked at all the different plants and all those grey but beautiful graves. Her gaze stopped at a bigger grave that had been made for a whole family. She felt sorry that this entire family had died but at least they had gone together and spent time as a family. Now Grace moved the pencil again because the look of the family grave had given her an idea when she saw someone in the corner of her eye. Surprised she looked to her left. She was sure that there had not been someone a few moments ago.
He was a man probably facing the last year of his thirties. His feet were moving in a normal speed but his eyes looked around carefully. He was of normal statue and simply dressed with black jeans, an ordinary dark green jumper and a black leather jacket which he wore open. But there was something else that caught Grace's attention. There was this look in those grey and endless eyes of the man. He probably appeared normal for most of the people but there was something odd about him that made Grace staring at him for a long time. This look in his eyes was so empty and also a bit sad but at the same time Grace felt that these eyes had seen so many things, beautiful things, things that were beyond imagination but also things that were terribly sad and filled with horror.
Whether she imagined all those feelings and experiences in the man's eyes or not Grace was unable to say but there was something else that also caught her attention: this man walked over the graveyard like she was not used to it from other people. He seemed not to be afraid of the feeling of death because the look on his face told Grace that this man felt interest and honour and had an open heart for their stories. When the man turned his head in her direction she quickly looked back at her notebook but she still kept watching him from the corner of her eye. She felt a bit ashamed of herself because usually she did not stare at people like this unless it was someone really good looking but even then the look was only brief. This man here was maybe not the handsomest she had seen so far but after all it was also more his presence than his look which gave Grace the thoughts. She tried to concentrate on her poem which she had still not finished but there was continuously something hammering in the back of her mind. Again and again she started with the same words of the upcoming verse but her thoughts always seemed to drift away… Desperately she had to look up once more.
And then he suddenly stood there right in front of her.