Hello!

This is my first ever attempt at Fanfiction, not just Doctor Who Fanfic, but any kind so I would absolutely love your feedback. I've always wanted to write some but I've never really had the motivation or the time to. So I sat down and constructed my first chapter.

This story takes place after the events of Series 9. Imagine it as a continuation after 'The Husbands of River Song.' The Doctor is travelling, companionless, and this is the starting point for a brand new, totally different companion.

I plan to write a 'seasons' worth of storylines with the Doctor and his new companion, Aiden. The idea is to have two chapters per story, totalling twelve stories and twenty four chapters, so each story is essentially split into two parts, a bit like Series 9 was. So this story is essentially one season of Doctor Who in fanfiction form – at the end of each even numbered chapter, you'll know we've reached the end of that 'adventure' and will be onto the next one! I do hope you enjoy the story enough to stick with it over the 12 stories – I'm really excited at what I've got planned for Aiden and the Doctors journey!

QUICK DISCLAIMER: Feel like I should put in here that I do not own Doctor Who and the character of the Doctor and the TARDIS, as well as Doctor Who as a concept is owned by the BBC. I am also not making money from this story.

If you enjoyed, please do leave me a review as I'd love to hear your feedback. New chapters will be released fairly regularly – the aim is to release a brand new 'episode' a week but this may change as my schedule gets pretty hectic. But you can be assured that this story is very much on my mind and will be finished!

ADVENTURE ONE, PART 1

Chapter 1 – A Wolf, The Thief and a Box

All Aiden could hear was the sound of his stabbing, sharp and painful breaths and the dull thud of his battered white converses on the uneven concrete. He could feel the burning in his lungs as they begged him to slow down, the tear and pull of his muscles as they raced to support him, like a car engine being pushed against its limits. The human body was so flawed, he thought, needing resources like oxygen when you needed to run away from something. Concentrating hard on the stretch of pavement in front of him, his eyes darted left to right, looking for something, anything; an alleyway, heck even a drainpipe, something to get him off the beaten track and somewhere a bit more discreet. As though answering his prayers, the abandoned factory on Chatsworth Road offered him some relief. Darting sharply to the left, he grabbed the cold ladder attached to the side of the building, and began to climb. Using all his strength, he pulled himself further and further up, ascending towards the roof. As he hauled himself up, he slid along on his stomach and lay, for a second, face down on the concrete roof, just breathing, trying very hard to think.
It was then that he remembered why he was running. Turning around awkwardly, he pulled a rucksack off his back and sat up. Pulling the zip hard, he opened it to reveal his prize. A new, boxed Apple laptop now sat in his lap. He turned the box in his hands, a slight smile on his face. It had all been in a day's work; it had only taken a second to ask the shop assistant to check out the back, before carefully slipping the laptop into his bag, turning on his heel ,walking smartly down the road, and only running when there was no one about, so as not to attract suspicion. Cameras never bothered him; he knew that most of them were decoys, and no one actually saw him stealing the laptop… Swiping laptops, phones, even jewellery if he could get away with it, was all part of Aiden's repertoire. He would call himself an experienced criminal; the rest of the estate would call him a 'dirty chav' with 'no prospects' and nothing but 'an eye for trouble.' But like he often said, he had to what he had to do. Now, he had a shiny new laptop he could make a profit off, then onto the next venture.
Aiden didn't particularly enjoy the criminal lifestyle; as clichéd as it was, it sort of just found him. Living on the estate had never been particularly easy; even worse when he'd been left to sort the rent on his own. It was stealing and dealing or the streets, simple as that.
Tucking the laptop back into his bag, Aiden allowed himself another smile and crawled towards the edge of the factory roof. The Chatsworth Estate looked back at him, a network of high rises, corner shops, dodgy takeaways and questionably sourced cars. Home. The only home that he had ever known. The sun was setting, and the sky looked as though it were ablaze amongst the concrete jungle of London.
His peace was quickly shattered by his phone vibrating. Aidan awkwardly fished it from his pocket. It was Glen.
"Glen! What's up? Yeah, yeah course I did! Tell you what, let me drop it off at mine and I'll meet you outside the Chatsworth Arms in ten? Sweet mate! See you in a bit." Sticking his phone back in his pocket, Aiden stood up, fully, this time. Silhouetted against the burning sky, he checked below him for police, the shop assistants, and security guards, anyone he'd been running from. Satisfied that he was alone, he descended carefully down the ladder again, and took the broken stream of alleys towards the estate. Another rob done, another month's rent in the bag.

"Latest model?" came Glens voice. He and Aiden were drinking in the Chatsworth Arms, the laptop relatively safely stowed back at Glens. The dimly lit pub was probably the biggest dive of the estate. A single pool table in the corner, the cloth ripped where an angry kid from the estate had taken a knife to it in rage. There was a set of arcade machines in the corner so old no one was sure what they actually did anymore, and a landlady who spent most of her life drunk so didn't seem to have a clue what she was doing. Old lightbulbs swung from the ceiling with no shades or lamps to be seen, just exposed wire. The usual smattering of drunks and underage thrill seekers sat around the tables.

"Yep," was Aiden's response, "Latest model going." He kept his voice low. "Nabbed it from the BW Enterprise Shop, the new one that's just opened. Staff there are clueless." There was a stab of pride in Aiden's voice. "They keep them all on display out there, got the new shop assistant; only about nineteen or twenty I reckon she was, to open up the cabinet and asked her if she had any chargers out the back. She left it open didn't she – work of a moment to slip it into me bag and leg it." Aiden leant back. Glen laughed.

"Alright, alright, so you got balls I'll give you that. But like I said, you need money, I'll sort it." He took a swig of his drink. "You need to be careful mate, that's the third rob you done in as many days, people are gonna twig again."

Aiden sniffed. "Why would they? There's a break in every day at the estate. Anyway, whats the plan for tonight?" Glen shrugged.

"Bottle of voddy from the offie down the road? Get some of the boys around? Here you know what you can do – settle that score with Danny; he still owes you that cash."

Aiden winced. "Do you never wonder, Glen – If theres something a bit more exciting out there? Like, it's the same thing day in day out." Glen looked at him with his eyebrows raised.

"Not this again Aiden! You going soft? Look, you wanna finish these and then grab a few drinks and head back to mine? Anwin reckons he can get hold of something a bit stronger if you get me." Glen smirked. "You didn't seem to be complaining last time. Get it for us cheap, he reckons." Aiden sighed. It wasn't like the estate was ever buzzing with stuff to do; getting drunk and getting high was basically going to the Ritz in these parts. The trick was to forget reality, for as long as humanely possible. That is, until waking up the next day and doing it all again. Aiden stood up and cleared his throat.

"Yeah alright, but I'm gonna grab one more drink here, lend us a fiver, mate." Glen scowled but obliged. As Aiden made his way to the bar, something caught his eye. Next to him was what looked like a screwdriver. But this one looked particularly funky. He was almost sure he'd never seen anything like it before; but that wasn't what fascinated him; it looked like some weird sci-fi collectors crap; some mug would pay a lot for something like that. The only way to describe it was as an ugly, bulky looking metal screwdriver with a blue light on top and a few buttons. No one seemed to have claimed it. Looking left, then right, he tactfully picked it up and slipped it expertly into his jacket pocket. He moved back to where Glen was sitting and leaned over closer to him.

"Mate – let's go. I'll fill you in, just give me a second." He said, cryptically. "Got something to show you."

"And you really don't know what it is?" asked Glen. The boys were back in Glens flat, and Aiden had produced the mysterious screwdriver from his pocket.
"Naw – but who's asking? It looks like it'll go for a fair bit of cash." He took a swig from a can of lager. "And that's all we care about right now."

Glen examined it in his hands, turning the mysterious contraption over and over. "What do you think it does?" Aiden scowled and snatched it off him, looking for himself.

"God knows." The investigation was abruptly interrupted by a knock at the door. Glen put his hands up, to indicate that Aiden should be as quiet as possible. He moved very, very slowly to the balcony, and looked down. His face was suddenly devoid of any colour.

"Who is it?" Pressed Aiden, whispering but feeling his heart rate increased. It could have been any number of dealers looking for him, the police, or anyone else he'd upset over the years. He and Glen did everything together, and he was one of the only people he could trust; a knock at the door was almost certainly an uninvited guest, and the look on Glens face confirmed it.

"It's Mikey Turner." Came Glens hissed whisper. "I owe him cash and he's here to get it. Problem is; I haven't got any to give." At this point Aiden stood up, his eyes wide.

"Mikeys a psycho! He's not just gonna let you walk away! We have to go!" Aiden began looking around him, panicked.

"Oh yeah!" hissed Glen, "Sure, let's just jump off the balcony from the twenty third floor, shall we?" Aiden rolled his eyes. Now was not the time for sarcasm. The knocks at the door were getting louder, and would soon be replaced with psycho Mikey kicking the door in; then, it would be their heads. Aiden took a deep breath, trying to think logically.

"Ok, when he comes in, tell him you've got the money, then go and 'get' the money and I'll… I dunno… knock him out or something?!" reasoned Aiden.

"What?" Glens response was feverish. "Are you mad? He'll have like four others with him. This is mad, we'll have to-"

Glen didn't get a chance to respond, as the door was knocked open off its hinges. A large, beefy man in a grey tracksuit let himself in, followed by four skinny looking rat faced boys off the estate; skinny enough, but with enough weapons between them to make the missions on Grand Theft Auto look tame.

"Alright, Glenny!" Mikey came in and sat on the sofa, helping himself to a sip of lager. The four boys followed him, as they often did. Aiden noticed the screwdriver before they did and swiped it;' but he swiped it a second too late.

"What's that?" Mikey's narrow eyes followed Aiden, pinned him down with a single, withering look. "What did you just take?"

"Nothing!" smiled Aiden, innocent as he could which, considering he was a criminal, was pretty ironic for him. But Mikey wasn't having any of it. He stood up, and walked very quickly towards Aiden. Before he knew it, Aiden had found himself backed into the corner, Mikey's breath right on his face; trapped.

"Look here, Tyler, I'm not messing about. I dunno what you think you're playing at, but you're mate here owes me money… a lot of it. Now, I'll give you ten seconds to give me whatever you had in your hands; or I'll be forced to break that already ugly looking snout for you, and see if there's nothing we can't do about that face?" Aiden looked right back into Mikey's eyes. The man was terrifying; veiny forehead, nasty little beetle like eyes and a nose broken so many times it was amazing it still functioned. Aiden kept his cool, didn't reply. Mikey glared at him.

"I won't ask you again, Tyler," he hissed. "Let's see if we can't loosen your tongue…" as Aiden thought he would, Mikey pulled out a small, but deadly, pocket knife. He placed the blade on Aiden's face; cool against his own flushed skin. His heartbeat was racing, his eyes firmly fixed on Mikey's, trying desperately to control his breathing. He could see out the corner of his eye, Glen being held back by two of Mikey's cronies, the other two standing behind and in front of him. Maybe he should just give the screwdriver over? It wasn't worth anything.

But then it wouldn't matter anyway. Mikey had come here for blood; Glen had owed him money, so neither of them would be leaving in one piece tonight whatever happened. The atmosphere was unbearably tense, the knife pressing harder into Aiden's skin… he would be scarred, at the very least; when it was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Excuse me?" the silence was punctuated by a thick Scottish accent. "Excuse me – can you maim him a bit later, please – I actually have to speak to him." Incredulous, Mikey turned around to see which voice had dared interrupt him mid flow. A very tall, skinny Scotsman was standing in front of them all, dressed in a bizarre looking trouser and suit get up, with a velvety purple jacket. He had fantastically mad silver hair, which seemed to curl all over the place. He was aged, lines across his face, but sparkling eyes. And for some bizarre reason, had taken the wrong turning and entered the wrong flat.

"I don't mean to be rude but I actually need to talk to him." Came the Scotsman's voice again. "Now." He said, a little more forcefully this time.

"Look," hissed Mikey, "Old man – this isn't your flat. You haven't done anything, this isn't your fight, so I'm gonna accept that you made a mistake. Now turn around and leave before you get hurt and all." The Scotsman didn't even blink upon being threatened by psycho Mikey.

"I know it's not my flat. I'm not an idiot." Came his blunt response. "And you shouldn't play with knives, their dangerous. Did your mother teach you nothing?" Aiden was alarmed as he saw the Scotsman calmly remove the knife from Mikey's grasp. He flipped it so the blade was safely away and tucked it into his jacket pocket. Mikey was enraged.

"That's my – what the actual – who do you think you are? You've messed with the wrong-"

"If you're going to hit me from that angle by my calculations you'd miss." Came the Scotsman's voice. "Now shut up – I need to speak to this guy." Breezing through, not a care in the world, he walked past Mikey and up to a very shocked Aiden. Glen and Mikey's cronies were just staring, wide eyed. The Scotsman levelled his face with Aiden's and held out his hand.

"You have something of mine. My screwdriver. You swiped it earlier when I was in the bathroom and my magno kinetic transportation overriding locator identified that it had ended up here. So… I've come to collect it; because it's not yours, its mine." Reeled the Scotsman off, calmly. Aidan didn't say a word; just looked at him, and very calmly handed the screwdriver to the man, who smiled briefly. "Good – an honest thief, not sure if I respect you or hate you for making me climb those twenty three flights of stairs how do you cope when the lifts out of order? Didn't have my screwdrivers so that walk is your fault." Screwdriver in hand, he turned. "Right, I'm off now – so now you may finish off your killing or whatever it is you were doing." The man beamed and then made his way towards the door. Aiden came out of his trance like state.

"Wait! Come back – he's gonna kill me!" came his desperate, almost child like voice. But the plea fell on deaf ears as the man calmly walked out the room and down the corridor. Mikey threw his head back and laughed.

"Weirder things have happened! A screwdriver? You ain't worth a murder sentence for a screwdriver. But he was right about one thing – you are gonna be taught a lesson. Without warning or hesitation, Mikey punched Aiden square in the face and knocked him to the ground. He moved over to hit him again, but the Scotsman entered the room once more.

"Look – I had a think about it, I don't really like violence. What I do appreciate however, is a fair game. So something tells me you should leave him alone." Came his voice again.

"I told you before old man, back off!" Enraged, Mikey turned to the man and made to throw a punch at him, but he simply stepped aside and Mikey fell awkwardly into the wall. Taking his screwdriver out of his pocket, the man beamed.

"I'm going to give you all a chance to walk away from this. Unscathed. I'm a good man, you see. Or at least, someone once told me I try to be. That's good enough for me. Do you know what happens when you reverse the polarity of a sonic screwdriver?" He looked over at Aiden, who by this point had had the chance to get up off the floor. He shrugged. "Me neither. Let's experiment." The man pressed a button on the screwdriver and there was an ear splitting crash as the windows of the flat imploded, glass showering the room. Everyone fell to the ground to protect themselves and Aiden saw his window of opportunity to escape. He looked over, but Glen was gone. There was a moment he felt slightly sick. Glen had left him. Glen had abandoned him in his moment of need to save his own skin. But there was no time for sentimentality. Mikey and his four cronies would stand in a few seconds, and he wouldn't have a chance to escape. Aiden stood up, and legged it, running out of the flat and down the corridor as fast as he could.
Corridor after corridor he ran, eventually bursting through the stairwell and down the twenty three flights of stairs to the street below as fast as he could, not knowing or caring if Mikey or his gang were behind him, just wanting to get to some kind of safety. Perhaps he'd go back to his flat, perhaps he wouldn't. He didn't care, as long as he got away. His mind was racing almost as much as his heart – where had Glen gone? Who was that man? Aiden had been certain he was seconds from death.. if that mysterious Scottish man hadn't stepped in…

Aiden gasped for breath and felt the evening breeze in his face. His eyes darted around, and he saw the nearby Powell estate in the distance. He ran; there were probably empty flats there he could hide in. He stopped for a second to breathe. It would take them a while to get down the stairs so he had a few seconds to compose himself. The night was still. Who had that man been? How had he smashed the glass? Aiden was taking a moment to contemplate this when , out of nowhere, he heard another, more terrifying noise than Mikey's laugh. He was convinced he was going mad. He turned, very very slowly. All he could see in front of him were two wolf like creatures – or perhaps they were some kind of wolf. But they were three times the size of regular wolves, almost as large as Aiden himself. They had terrifying, soulless yellow eyes and snarling teeth like wolves, sure, but their fur was matted, black and grey; and they couldn't be wolves, not at that size. It didn't matter, anyhow, because there they were, standing, glaring, snarling; and ready to devour anything in their path. Aiden turned on his heel and ran. He ran for his life, he ran for anything, he didn't know if he'd ever breathe again, but he just ran. He could hear these creatures running after him, catching up with him; it would be them or Mikey, one of them would finish him off – why were there wolves in London anyway? He couldn't compute, wouldn't – he just kept running.

As he continued to sprint, he could hear the wolves behind him; surely they were faster than him? It was at that moment, he heard a high pitched whirring sound and there was a sound like an explosion that knocked him to the ground. Looking up, Aiden saw the Scottish man from earlier, standing in front of him, screwdriver out. Aiden stood up very awkwardly, very slowly, very confused. The wolves were gone. There was silence in the night. Everything was still.

"You're welcome." Aid the Scottish man and started walking off. Aiden blinked, and realised the man was walking away.

"No – wait. I've had enough of this!" he called. He ran to catch up with the man. "Where are you going? Who are you? What the f just happened?"

"I saved you from a duo of rabid wolves and an angry Londoner threatening to stab you, that's what's happened. You're welcome, now good night." He continued walking on. Aiden continued to chase after him.

"No – hold on, just stop for a second, what are you talking about?" he took his hand out and pulled the Scottish man's arm. "Just wait for a second."

The Scottish man sighed and turned to face Aiden. "Those wolves weren't actual wolves, they were a poorly constructed manifestation of a wolf using the human DNA and genetic structure, hence their size. They were summoned by someone, or something, hence their out of place appearance in a London estate. Elsewhere, your very large and angry friends with the knife was going to attack you, so I smashed your flat window to distract him and give you a chance to run. Consider it a gift. You're welcome, for the third time."

"Wait – but how did you know where to find me?" Aiden's head was spinning.

"I didn't" replied the man bluntly. "I wasn't interested in finding you. I found my screwdriver, which you stole, and did you a favour. That man was going to kill you, I gave you a chance to run – just so happened those wolves were here too. Now, if you don't mind, I need to find out more about these manifestations of wolves and save the world. Have a nice night and try to stay out of trouble." The man beamed vacantly, turned and walked away.

"No – wait." The man paused, and walked towards Aiden again. There was silence, save for the whistling in the nearby trees.

"I just saved your life. I do that sometimes. I didn't have to, but I did. Now, take yourself, go home and lock your doors. Believe me, if there's any more of those wolf things out there, you're going to need to stay away. Go away and get on with things. Go home." With that, the man turned for the final time, and walked confidently away.

The night was deadly still. Aiden stood, stunned. Slowly, he narrowed his eyes. Ain the gloom on a streetlight he was sure he could see the man walking into what looked like an old blue telephone box.

"Wait!" He called again. He began to run towards the box, as fast as he could, but – perhaps it was a trick of the light – by the time he got there, there was no box, and there was no man.

Aiden was alone. The night air suddenly stung him and he realised it wouldn't be long until Mikey and his friends caught up with him. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but he needed to get out of the estate and to safety. With no choice but to move, he began walking away into the night.

Little did he know, however, that his story was just beginning.

TO BE CONTINUED.