Ugh. That was the only word to describe this day. Little Miss Perfect and her irritating friends and actually-perfect boyfriend had been at Scoop the same time she was, talking too loudly and laughing too much and just generally being…happy. She almost wished they would invite her over.

Almost.

But it wasn't like she was some lonely loser. She had plenty of friends. Although she couldn't remember the last time she had had that much fun with them. She couldn't even remember the last time she had truly, genuinely laughed.

She had brushed off the unpleasant thought and returned home to a vacant house. Her father was working of course, and her stepmother was out with friends. They had not deigned to leave her a note, but they had done this so often that it was now routine. After she made herself dinner (her mother had taught her how to cook before she remarried and moved to Europe), she put in a DVD and tried to distract herself with the formulaic storytelling and flat characters. As the man and woman realized their apparently epic love for each other and ran to meet each other at the end, she rolled her eyes. Why was it that the guy and girl always had to end up together at the end? Why couldn't the girl just develop better self-confidence and improve her life without a man?

As she sighed and clicked off the TV, her ears were almost immediately subjected to a bizarre wheezing, groaning noise. Deirdre froze, her mind instantly replaying every horror movie she had ever seen. She grabbed a nearby statue, afraid but determined. She edged slowly toward the back door and opened it, stepping outside. At that moment she was incredibly grateful for the flood lights in the backyard currently illuminating the…giant blue box?

But that wasn't there this morning. It wasn't possible. It wasn't...

A man suddenly burst out of the doors, and Deirdre's panicked thoughts became even more scrambled. The man wore an unfashionable brown pinstriped suit and brightly colored converse sneakers. He held a thin metal device in his hand and was gesturing with it as if it were a magic wand.

"Oh, this doesn't look like Poxaar!"

Deirdre stood dumbstruck, statue falling out of her hands. The man turned his gaze upon her, startled as if he had just noticed her.

"Would you mind terribly telling me what species you are?"

Her thoughts in absolute freefall, her mouth worked without forming sounds.

"Oh, are you mute? I just came from a universe in which traitors get their tongues cut," here he made a slicing motion with the tips of his fingers, "and there's this annual competition where kids compete to the death. Terribly morbid business, but there's a girl there who is more than capable of bringing change to that government. She is a spitfire," he finished fondly, chuckling as if at some private joke.

"Who are you?!"

"Ah, right. I'm the Doctor, oncoming storm, bringer of darkness, et cetera, et cetera."

"Doctor WHO?"

The man giggled. "I never get tired of that."

"Just what are you doing here? This is a privateproperty!"

"Right. Sorry about that, I really thought I'd finally got the hang of the Tardis here," he said absently, rubbing the back of his head.

"Well, I've got friends over. And-and my parents are here, too. They're probably all really concerned and they'll be coming out here any minute!"

The man looked at her with pity in his eyes. "There's no one with you. I know that look."

Faltering just a bit, she the next question fell unbidden from her lips. "What look?"

"The look of someone who's alone. And not by choice. I've seen and worn that look countless times…But you know, there is a way for you not to be alone anymore."

"How?" she asked, childlike. Deirdre would later feel amazed at how vulnerable she was in front of this strange man.

The man-the Doctor-turned back toward the mysterious machine and rapped his knuckles on the door. He turned back around, a hopeful smile on his face.

"Come with me."