"Kate...Kate Hamilton..." The whispers were chillingly hoarse, and she drew her arms around herself as she walked on, the street lights down the dim road lighting circular patches in the chill of the night. Down the road was a strip of run-down apartments, lined in a row like a firing squad, squatting in the fog. Her palms were clammy and her fingers were cold against the pink skin of her arms-goosebumps made mountains on the valleys of her skin.

She wanted desperately to call out, to hum, to sing in the abscense of sound that encased her, but some unknown force sealed her lips shut, and her lungs screamed to be filled, to be deflated, to be used. Her eyes scanned the road, devoid of any life. The first noise she heard since she had arrived on this road was a pulsating engine sound, a whooshing, and then the tap of shoes on cobblestone. From a distance away she saw a bright, pulsing light, far down at the end of the road. Around the bend a man then wheeled, the coattails of his tan overcoat flapping in the wind, his face contoured in the features of shock and, strangely, amusement. He whisked past her without a second look, and she watched as he tap-tap-tap-ed down the road before he disappeared in the fog. She watched the corner he had materialized from for a moment, chills making their way up and down her spine. If the man had something to run from, she'd best get a move on herself. She turned heel and fled from the road, following the coat-clad man's path-which she hoped to the good Lord above was the path to safety.

And then she was running, her arms pumping and her legs stretching as they had never done before, but she didn't know why she was running, nor did she know where she was running to or what she was running from. But she ran with full force, her bare feet slapping against the cold cobblestone. She followed the whisk of the man's coat around the corners, whirling around them just in time to spot him turn. The adrenaline rush of being chased by someone-or perhaps, something, as she had no recollection of what exactly she was running from-made the air in her lungs feel like nectar from the gods, with each small gasp she took she could feel her lungs thanking her but she contined to run, she had to keep running. It was coming.

By some miracle of chance she had wedged herself into a dark alleyway and was holding in her gasping breaths squeezed against the garbage bins, pressing herself into the green metal, as if she could meld into it. She saw a shadow pass, and she sighed thankfully-and then the rhythmic stomping grew louder and louder until it was all around her, grasping at her every fiber of being, screaming at her to run: but she had nowhere to go. She brought her hands to her face and squeezed her eyes shut and she felt the sheer force of 12000 gigawatts making the hair on her arms stand up and suddenly-

She woke twisted in her blankets, her head and clothes and sheets soaked in her sweat. Her heart was racing, thumping away in her chest, and she took four deep, calming breaths to ease the drumbeat against her ribcage. It had been a dream. Just a vivid reproduction of her over-active imagination, she reminded herself sternly, swinging her legs out of under her sweat-dampened blankets. Her feet hung in the cool air of her bedroom and she already felt a bit more settled. She had been having the same dream every night for the past month now. And every night, she woke to wet blankets and tear-tracked cheeks, every night she woke to the drumbeat of her heart. Turning to her bedside table, she scrabbled at the lamp standing forlornly in the dim brightness of her room, taking hold of the switch and flooding the room with comforting, if not bright, light. She rubbed her face with her hands, sighing deeply.

An hour later, the notebook balanced in her lap held sketches of the road and the strange man-eerily, she could remember every part of the dream with uncanny vividness, perhaps it was because she had had it so very often she could remember each tiny detail-smudged with lead and crumpled corners. She let herself fall back onto the bed, breathing as deeply as her addled brain allowed. Who was the strange man? What had she been running from? Where was the mysterious road?

But most importantly of all: Why did she feel as if the dream rang true-why did she feel as if she was in grave danger?

Curling up into her sheets, which had thankfully dried, she pressed her face against her pillow and sighed deeply. It was three in the morning, too early to do anything worthwhile. It was time to go back to sleep.

The TARDIS was heartbreakingly quiet. The Doctor, pacing around the center console, tapped his sonic screwdriver-a long, thin object that looked distantly related to a ballpoint pen-against the palm of his hand.

"Where to go next...? Where to go...?" If someone had been with him they would have piped up by then, helpfully providing the man with an outstanding number of strange and outlandish places to visit. But he had not had a companion for awhile now, and he severely doubted he would have one in the near future, as it seemed. So for now, the TARDIS would remain quiet, and the Doctor would not have anyone to suggest strange and outlandish places to him, and however lonely that may have been, it was the life of the Doctor, and he would remain unperturbed by it, as he always liked to pretend he was.

Kate Hamilton woke up fifteen minutes late. Her alarm clock, which she leaped up to fetch, was laying halfway across the room, forlornly settled against the leg of her desk-chair. It let loose sad, periodic beeps every few seconds, but the sound was muffled so far away. Muttering profanities, Kate thundered into the kitchen to set the kettle to boil. She lived by herself, and had been for awhile now, attending the community college when she felt like it. Today was a day she felt like it. Her Philosophy professor was giving a lecture with a guest speaker, one whom had been rumored to be one of the most intellectual men of the century. The mere mention of this title sent shivers up and down her spine. She filled up her kettle and set it on the stove lovingly before whisking back to her room to begin the hassle that was getting ready.

And today, of all days, whether she knew it or not, she'd need to be ready.

Thankfully, she made it to the lecture with a few minutes to spare, the tea balanced in a thermos in her hands. The lecture hall was empty, save her, and she gazed around the large, echoing chamber with bright eyes. If anyone was qualified to meet the most intelligent man in the world, it would be Kate. She was a third-year Philosophy student who had graduated high school with honors, a full-ride scholarship to Stanford University, and all but one friend: Her dog, Cooper. She sat in the second row, draping her coat across the back of her chair. She was completely, incredibly content with the silence that then surrounded her, and sat peacefully for a number of minutes before she was startled by the door being slammed open.

The Doctor, expertly skipping around the console of the TARDIS, slammed a number of buttons and pulled a number of levers, his hands a flurry of motion. His busy-bee activity was thanks to an alert on his screen, blinking red in the dim blue light of the console. The large cylinder centered in the impossibly big room was pumping, making a noise similar to a wheeze or a whir, or a cross of the two thereof. When his TARDIS had begun, there was never any knowing where he could end up.

The Doctor grinned madly, clutching a railing attached to the console and readying himself for what was sure to be an adventure.

A strangely familiar-looking man swept into the hall, throwing himself between two of the rows of chairs. Kate watched him with wide eyes, but she said nothing, too surprised to attempt to peice together a reply. It was silent another moment before the man's head popped up from between the seats, his hair flopping charmingly into his eyes.

"Hello," He said quizzically, his brows drawing together. "What are you?" Kate's mouth lifted up crookedly, and her brows knitted as she looked at the strange, funny man, with his head stuck up between two rows of stadium seats.

"Excuse me?"

"What species are you?"

"Human...?" He smiled triumphantly, "Right, good! Sorry about that! If you could just duck for a moment?" Complying, she kneeled between the rows, tucking her hands in her lamp. She heard the slap of bare hands on linoleum and then the man's head poked into her row, grinning. He scurried up to her, his tan overcoat trailing along on the ground behind him, accumulating dust. He held out a hand to her, still smiling widely. She accepted it, nodding as he named himself "The Doctor". Still shocked, she offered no words of curiosity or protest. She merely sat in silence with him, watching as he peered over the seats, wielding a thin, cylindrical object as if it were a weapon. A matter of moments later, he returned, leaning against the backs of the chairs and running a hand through his mess of brown hair. He was silent a moment, his eyes trained to a place above the row of seats.

"What was your name again?" He asked, although his eyes looked distant and he had begun tapping the thin object against his palm.

"My name is Kate," she replied quietly, offering him her hand. His gaze transferred to her hand, then roved her face for a moment before he took her hand in his jovially. "Brilliant to meet you, Kate!"

"Doctor...ah, doctor who, exactly?" The funny man, smiling, said with a laugh,

"I'll never get tired of that," He chortled. "Just the Doctor."

Kate squeezed her hands together, studying the man's face. Something about him looked so familiar, but she couldn't quite place what exactly it was.

"Yes, but doctor of what?"

He shrugged noncommittaly, peering over the seats again, his face curious.

"Where are you...?" He murmured, watching the doorway with an expectant look on his face, as if he was waiting for something. This man was infinitely confusing and appealing, all at once. She was completely terrified.

"Why are we hiding?" She asked, joining him in peering over the row of seats that served as their shelter.

Suddenly, she knew exactly why they were hiding-or rather, what they were hiding from. It burst through the closed door, making feral noises she had never heard before. The pieces of the door flew across the room and landed mournfully scattered all over the floor. The creature, still making eerie growling noises, neared the stadium seats, looking as if it's intent was surely not to stop by for a pleasant chat. It walked on all fours, it's skin a rough sheen that looked related to a reptile's. it's teeth, currently on display and far too close for comfort, were bone-white, arm's length, and gleamed in the flourescent light of the lecture hall. It had close-set eyes, with no sight of white within-when the creature blinked, it's eyelids closed sideways with a sound that closely resembled the squelch of squeezing an overfilled sponge-and gills on either side of it's head which flapped at intervals. It's legs were stocky and thick, ending in feet that more obviously looked like hands, five distinct splits off of each of it's four legs. The professor's desk at the back of the room was overturned by the creature's long, thick tail, which whipped from side to side. It bared it's teeth as it surveyed the room, and Kate prayed to every single god she knew of that it would not look in their direction. "Aha, there you are, you horrible, beautiful beastie!" The Doctor yelled triumphantly, leaping up from his spot hidden between the seats, brandishing the thin cylinder from before. Terrified but completely intruiged, Kate watched as he weaved around the rest of the seats and met the creature face-to-face.