A/N: The Doctor in the story is one that has not yet, or otherwise may never, exist/ed in the cannon series. Likewise the companion. As a result there will be an infrequent description of the Doctor. So just sort of imagine your Doctor. The one you fell in love with/made you love Doctor Who in the first place. I intend this to be a series...so hang in there!

~AmyV

Doctor Who

Algae and Aliens:
Part 1

Tanya Knobbs was sitting at the airport impatiently. Her knee bounced as she scanned over the others waiting for the flight to be ready to board. How long she'd sat there, she didn't know; but she was certain it was nearly an eternity. Unlike the families and couples nestled closely together, Tanya was travelling alone. She'd sought a vacation, away from work, family, friends, and all the melodramatics her life entailed against her will. It was more of a necessity to leave, she often envisioned herself drowning if she stayed a moment longer. Her mother scoffed at the news while her friends begged desperately for postcards, memorabilia, and plenty of picture and stories to appease their ever growing appetite for gossip.

Yet, there she sat in her tan leather coat, arms bent over her knees steadily bouncing to an unheard rhythm. Tanya breathed out a heavy sigh and looked at the clock again. Three hours had passed since the flight was delayed. Certainly little would change in the immediate future, so Tanya grabbed her heavy overstuffed pack and slung it on her back. Her head swung one way, and then the other and she groaned as she took the first steps away from row of retro colored plastic chairs. The straps cut into her shoulders under the buckling girth of the pack. She stiffened, adjusted her weight and proceeded to the walkway. There was coffee shop not far from her, a few feet, which seemed more like miles under the circumstances. Tanya wobbled as her pack swung. She was a thin girl, tall and narrow. A man bustled by, clearly distracted by...something...and knocked into her shoulder. Tanya tilted and sidestepped to regain her balance. As she looked back, the tailcoat of the stranger whipped around the corner. She shrugged.

"One cappuccino...medium..." Tanya squeaked out as she reached the register.

"One Cap-Cof, Med. Three and half." The young man said. His eyes were drooping. Either from the pot he reeked of or the long hours he worked. She guessed it wasn't the latter while she crammed her hands into her pockets and yanked out a small wad of cash.

"That's pretty pricey for a coffee." She muttered as she handed him a five.

"It's the convenience you pay for, really." A man spoke behind her. Tanya turned slightly. He looked away as if in thought, "Coffee, just a bunch of ground up beans run over with boiling water." He returned his attention to her, "Never really liked the stuff myself," The coffee shop worker handed Tanya the hot cup and change. The strange man reached over and plucked it from her fingers and popped the lid off. He sniffed it, stared at it for a moment and then reached into his pocket. He pulled out a particularly odd device, though it should have been expected of such a strange man to carry unusual items, and held it downward into the cup. It made a sort of buzzing electronic noise and a red light turned on. Once both stopped, he looked over the device and frowned and made a low grunt. "Bad coffee, you don't want this coffee." He handed it back to the coffee shop attendant.

"What's wrong with it?" His glazed over expression dulled the slightest enthusiasm in his voice.

"Nothing." The man said, slipping his hands into his pockets. He glanced between the worker and Tanya, "Bad coffee." They stared dumbfounded. His expression changed, twisted a bit with confusion at their lack of comprehension of the situation at hand. He clapped his hands together, "Right, you sir, have a lovely day and stay away from the reefer," he pointed to the worker and then his finger turned to Tanya, "And you, you have a safe trip to Italy. It's wonderful this time of year, beautiful. A good year too. Alright, carry on." With that he turned on his heels and walked casually away.

Tanya looked at the worker, "What's with the coffee?"

"Nothing. It's just a coffee." He shrugged.

She narrowed her eyes and then looked back at the man as he walked away, "Damn weirdo." Tanya shook her head and left the counter without the coffee. There was no sense in bringing it, especially after a stranger zapped it with some bizzarre laser pointer noise making gadget.

Tanya returned to where she'd previously sat and threw her bag to the floor. She slumped down in the hard plastic seat and shut her eyes. It wasn't a moment before the rustle of clothes caught her attention and the sound of a voice brought her eyes open again, "Tell me," he spoke lowly, "why is it all these people are travelling on the same flight," he wagged his finger indicating the other soon-to-be passengers, "together," the man looked at her with eyes that seemed to look beyond her very soul and made her quiver as he spoke, "and yet you're travelling alone?"

"I don't know." She shook her head dismissively with desperate intent to avoid eye contact. His hair dangled along the edges of his face, and his eyes seemed ancient and tired as he stared at her with a thick glaze of doubt over his features. There was something distinctly old, worn, about the man, yet to anyone else he might have looked young and just in his prime.

"Are you on holiday?" He leaned back in his seat, folding his hands over his crossed knees. His gaze gracefully swept over the unknowingly observed people as they continued to aimlessly wander back and forth but never far from where they sat in waiting.

"Yes."

"From work?"

"No."

"Family?"

"No," she sighed and apathetically added, "sort of but not completely."

"Friends?"

"Yes...mostly...I guess...I don't know, I'm on holiday. What does the reason matter?" She rubbed her temples, frustrated by his persistance and even more so by his unnaturally calm demeanor.

"It doesn't, holiday is always nice to take. I'm always on holiday...just flying around here and there all over everywhere. Well," he paused in momentary thought, "not now. Seems I've run into a bit of snag."

"Yeah, we all have...something about that flight..." She glanced back at the boarding gate. Attendants were beginning to gather, a good sign the wait was coming to an end.

"You only have one bag. You travel alone a lot." He gestured towards the overstuffed pack on the floor.

"Is that a question?" Tanya looked warily at him.

"No," he said with great exaggeration, "people accustom to travelling with others pack more than one bag. Habit, probably."

"Flight 368, departure to Rome, Italy is now boarding. Please gather belongings and move to the boarding gates." A dainty voice announced on the PA system. She repeated the message twice more before proceeding to the next flight ready to board.

"That's my flight. I better get going," Tanya smiled, fake as plastic, to him and grabbed her pack, "It was nice talking to you."

"Right, wouldn't want to miss it." He smiled pleasantly.

Tanya walked to the gate and as she approached the neatly dressed attendant, began frantically searching for her ticket. She stopped at the corner of the stand. Her hands rummaged through her pockets. Nothing, nothing, cash, paper, and then nothing. The ticket was gone. Tanya froze in horror. Someone bumped into her earlier. Was it possible she'd been pick-pocketed? The color drained from her face. The ticket was gone. She took a step back and knocked against someone. Tanya started to turn around just as the person spoke in an eerily familiar voice, "Sorry I'm late," he said to her then turned to the woman collecting tickets, "I'm sorry for any confusion, my assistant" He looked at Tanya searching for a name.

"Tanya Knobbs." She offered.

He nodded and turned back around to the woman in a clumsily graceful manner flawlessly picking up where he left off, "Miss Knobbs and I are working undercover for an airline auditing to improve quality of service." He held up a flip book. Tanya squinted but all she could make out was a bunch of blurry smudges. The woman glanced between the man and Tanya with a surprised look washing over her face.

"Oh no, our apologies for holding you up Mr. Smith. Go right ahead." She offered him to walk in void of a ticket or any more authorization than a flash of a smudged card.

"Well, get on with it." He motioned for Tanya to follow suite. In a moment of confusion and bewilderment she hurried after him, figuring this was not the opportune moment to start asking questions.

"Sorry, first audit of the season always gets me tripped up." She blurted as she passed the woman with wide eyes. Tanya quickly met pace with the man and turned to him once they walked halfway to the plane, "What was that you showed her? That was just some card with blurry parts."

"Blurry parts?" He pulled out the paper again, "You see blurry parts?"

"Yeah, what's it supposed to look like?"

"I don't know. Psychic paper, it's whatever the looker wants it to be and they see it. Clever tool in lots of situations."

"And what was that thing earlier...the zappy thing?"

He pulled the device from his pocket after tucking away the paper, "Sonic screwdriver. Also very handy."

"Right." She was increasingly skeptical of his sanity.

"Tanya Knobbs, strange name. Both of them, of course. Not one or the other almost like it doesn't fit. I wonder why that is, a name that doesn't fit. Something so out-of-place as a name just doesn't seem right, does it?"

"You're mad."

"Absolutely," He smiled wickedly, "A mad man in search of his favorite blue box somewhere in Italy."

Tanya stopped in her tracks baffled by the unusual man who mysteriously entered her life and just as mysteriously persisted on remaining in it, "Who are you?"

He stopped and turned on his toes and placed his hands in his pocket. The man smiled as he lifted his chin, "I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor who?" She raised an eyebrow.

He thought it over for a split second, glanced about the floor then back to Tanya's dark eyes, "Just the Doctor." He spoke plainly as though the fact should otherwise be clear that his title and name were one in the same and need not be questioned.

"Right, of course." She bobbed her head, figuring that the clear forming relationship would be short-lived at best, "Why are you going to Italy, Doctor?"

"I'm on holiday." He smiled cheesy as ever at her as they continued to stroll down the walkway and onto the plane, "Also, I've lost something very important and I'm trying to relocate it. As far as I can tell it's in the current care of some close friends in Italy."

"Your blue box?" She glanced back at him as she wobbled down the row of airline seats.

"Yes, in a matter of speaking." He shuffled close behind, "Time always moves so slowly without the TARDIS." There was a whine in his tone much like a child who didn't want to stop playing long enough to have lunch.

"The what?" Tanya looked back at him. She'd accepted quickly that he was odd, different from everyone, and figured it best to not ask too many questions and simply follow along.

"TARDIS," the Doctor repeated as though she failed to hear him. Her blank stare led him to explain, "Time and relative dimension in space."

"Like a time machine?"

"Yes, no," His smile was mischievous, "better."

"So you're saying you're a time traveller? Why take a plane?" She swung into a seat and yanked her pack off, forcefully cramming it under the seat though it barely fit.

"Actually," the Doctor sat beside her and leaned close over the arm of the seat, "I'm a Timelord. I wouldn't be on this plane if I had the TARDIS, however as it seems I ran into a bit of snag," He waved his hands about and spoke quickly, "it's a long story really, travelling around in the 52nd century, lots of strange reports about the Angels, always bad news there, very scary, always scary, always important to not blink, but you never know what's happening behind you," He paused and looked up at Tanya. Her eyebrows raised. He cleared his throat, "Right, so one thing led to another and the TARDIS is in Italy."

"So you're headed there to find it. How do you know it's there?" Tanya narrowed her eyes, "Couldn't it be anywhere? And who's to say someone else doesn't have it?"

"Well," He began but then stopped to think it over, "I don't know. Someone else might have it but these are old friends and I wouldn't rely on them to lure me somewhere for no reason at all. Then again," He rubbed at his chin in thought, "it could very well be a trap." The Doctor sat in silence then looked back at Tanya, who looked unsatisfied with his answer or lack there of, and cocked his head slightly to the side, "No, the Angels aren't known to set elaborate traps like that, at least not for me."

"Maybe it's someone else." She shrugged nonchalantly as though they were discussing a popular show.

"The psychic paper." He said and pulled out the flip book, holding it up between them. "You asked how I knew where it was, the psychic paper had the location. It's a sort of relay for messages at times. Not all the time," He slapped it against the armrest, "it's never working right anymore."

"Maybe if you didn't do that it might." She pointed out as the stewardesses made their ways to the front of the plane and began to describe safety protocol and all the other details necessary before take-off. Hardly anyone paid mind to them as they droned on. The oldest woman, white puffy hair like a cotton swab, lazily dictated how to order refreshments and when meals would be available. The engines started up and soon the plane left the runway with ease.

Tanya tucked her pillow behind her head and shut her eyes. A bit of sleep now would save a great deal of jet lag later. With the back of her hand she rubbed he closed eyes and yawned. Though she wanted to, she fought every urge to open her eyes just a bit, to peek on the Doctor. His clothes rustled next to her, he was struggling at being patient. Perhaps his time travelling was the truth and sitting stationary was a struggle. Or perhaps he was insane. She peeked an eye open, he sat there poking around at a variety of drinks on the fold out tray. First he'd move one forward then one back. He shifted how he was sitting, peered through the bottles then rearranged them again. Without a doubt he certainly gave probably reason to believe he was insane.

"Doctor, can you please do that a little quieter?" She moaned.

"The water...something's wrong with the water." He mumbled dismissively.

"Oh no, not this again." Tanya folded the pillow around her head.

"It was in the coffee too...not as much, not so noticeable." The Doctor leaned back and swirled one of the bottles in front of his face. A flight attendant walked by, checking each passenger as she strolled down the aisle. The Doctor lowered the bottle, "Miss, where did this water come from?"

"Pardon me?" She was confused, but smiled sweetly, "Where did it come from?"

"Yes, where did the water supplies come from?" He set the bottle down.

"Our supplies for this flight were received in Italy on the last flight. It alternates each flight, sir. Is there something the matter? If you'd like domestic water, I can retrieve one for you." She was young and polite.

"No, that'll be alright. I was just wondering if it was really authentic Italian water. First time to Italy on a plane." The Doctor said with excitement and a bright smile.

"Wonderful, thank you for choosing to fly with us! I hope so far everything has gone well." She meant well even though it sounded terribly rehearsed.

"It's certainly a new experience." He sounded like a child on Christmas morning. Everything was exciting.

The flight attendant walked away and once out of earshot Tanya rolled over again and looked him over. He was all smiles, not a care in the world even under his supposed circumstance. "How old are you?" She finally asked in a dry raspy voice.

"Me?" The Doctor chuckled but then his face turned dark and sullen, "Me, I'm very old. An old man these days. 4,078 years old, specifically."

"4,078 years old? You're kidding." She snickered.

Then the look in his eyes brought her to silence. There was a deep darkness, a well of near endless sorrows and time so expansive and condensed into one body it was overwhelming, a broken sort of spirit that lingered there in his eyes. He was old, his eyes were old. Yet he looked so young. She wasn't sure how it was possible but she couldn't deny what she saw. He nodded slowly, "I've lived for a very long time."

To Be Continued in PART 2...