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"And then...well, then, we ran."

"That's very sentimental and romantic."

"I'm serious, Harry. We ran across the stars. We ran through supernovas and we danced on Jupiter's moons."

"You need to stop drinking before bed, mate. Your dreams are getting madder by the day."

John Tyler sighed and sat back in his chair. He lifted his coffee mug to his mouth, before turning back to his best friend. "You're right," he said finally. Harry smiled smugly. "I'm just having crazy dreams about a girl who doesn't even exist. It's not like we could actually run through supernovas. I'm just a nutter."

"Hey, she sounds fit, though," Harry said with a devilish grin. "I wouldn't give up on this mystery star girl yet."

John made a sour face. "I have a girlfriend, Harry."

Harry threw his hands up. "Oi, you're the one who's falling for her, not me."

John sighed again, defeated. "I've never even seen her face," John argued. "She's a figment of my imagination. She and this...this man I pretend to be in my dreams…They're just people who are living a life that...well, that I could never have."

Harry rolled his eyes and stood up, putting the newspaper down next to John's coffee cup. "Why are we even mates? Such a sentimentalist, you are. Rubbish. It makes me sick."

"Just because you and Marie are going strong," John retorted.

"Marie? She isn't going to stay," Harry said, winking. "She's just another challenge, if you know what I mean."

John snorted and stood, shoving Harry away slightly. "You make me sick, you twat," he chuckled. "I've gotta get ready for work a deal today."

"Signing the shop to someone else?" Harry said hopefully.

John snorted. "I wish. I'm just going from assistant manager to manager. Moving up in the world of shop-owners, me."

"At least you have a job," Harry muttered.

John gave his best mate a sad look before retreating to his bedroom. His life wasn't the best of the best, but Harry's world was worse. For his friend's sake, he hoped things turned around soon.

"John Tyler!"

John dropped the shirt he was folding and turned slowly. "Yes, sir?" he said politely. His boss stared at him heavily.

"Rumor has it that you're moving up to main manager," Mr. Alder said. "Next thing you know, you'll be taking over my position!"

John laughed uncomfortably with Mr. Alder. Anthony Alder was a man in his forties, who was slightly heavy-set. He was nice to be around most of the time, but he intimidated all of his employees.

"Don't be so sure, sir," John said lightly. "It takes a lot of stuff to own a shop. I can barely manage it. You're the material ownership belongs to."

Alder laughed again, patting John's back. John chuckled with him, hiding his wince of pain at the push. "Guess I'll be seeing a lot more of you, eh, John?"

"Count on it," John said stiffly. Alder turned to walk away before stopping.

"Oh, and," he added, facing John again. "Don't forget that salesman smile. It brings the customers back!"

John flashed a huge, fake grin, and Alder nodded in satisfaction. John turned back to the clothes he had been folding. The whole exchange with Anthony Alder had left him slightly unsettled. His boss was a decent man, but John was weary of him. He saw what he could become if he stayed in the shop business forever - and it terrified him.

"John?"

John plastered the salesman smile on his face and turned swiftly, offering the customer a friendly wave. His smile grew more genuine when he noticed who had called his name.

"Martha," he said, giving her a brief hug. Martha Jones, his girlfriend and childhood mate, hugged him back, grinning.

"Thought I'd surprise you at work," Martha said. "I also figured you wouldn't mind a little treat."

John's eyes shifted to the plastic container she held in her hand. He lit up as he took it. "A cupcake, brilliant!" he laughed.

"Banana flavored," Martha said proudly.

"Brilliant," John said again, setting it down. "Wait a moment, don't you have classes?"

Martha shrugged. "I took a day to myself. I figured I'd get some things done. I've managed to clean out my apartment."

John saw the hopeful look on her face, and he knew she was hoping they'd move in together. In all honestly, the idea of living with Martha scared him. It would put another lock on his life, trapping him in this exact place forever.

"Decluttering, I love it," John finally said. Martha's smile shifted slightly and he watched the hurt look dance across her face briefly. John cleared his throat and took a step back. "Well, I should probably, ah... I mean, Wilson's expecting me..."

"Get back to work, I got it," Martha said, letting out an airy laugh. John sighed, relieved, and gave her a brief hug. "But I'll see you tonight, mister! Dinner at my place, like you promised."

"Right-o," John said. He glanced at the time and cursed under his breath. "Blimey, I'm late."

"Don't think Wilson minds," Martha chuckled. "You are taking his job after all."

"He's retiring!" John argued quickly, and Martha raised her hands to silence him.

"Just joking," she teased. "I figured you could use a laugh before you become an official business man."

John pulled a face and Martha giggled.

"Moving up in the world," Martha said proudly, giving him a huge smile. He smiled back, though it wasn't quite as genuine. "Don't worry, John. This is just to pay the bills until you can get into a college. You'll be studying the stars before you know it!"

John lived a fairly mediocre life. It was routine - which was a more exciting way to say it was dull. He woke up every morning at the same time, had coffee or tea with his roommate, went to work, ate lunch with Martha, finished his shift, and then returned home to do whatever had to be done. He hated it, to be fair. He hated the ordinary routine. He wanted something to change.

There were times that he'd wake up in the middle of the night with a sudden impulse to move to a different city, or travel the world for a week. He'd hunt websites for an hour or so and find a deal that suited his likings - and then he'd realize he was just being daft. He'd close the laptop and crawl back into bed and regret getting trapped in a lifestyle where he couldn't go anywhere or do anything.

It wasn't like he hated the people in his life. He needed Harry more than anyone and he liked having Martha around. She was sweet and kind - but he couldn't love her. It would during those times in the middle of the night that he'd start to resent her and wish she could be more exciting.

Of course, he was content with Martha. He hated himself after the nights he resented her. She was a good woman who was pursuing a career she loved. How could he resent her for living her own life? She was sweet. But she wasn't as exciting as the life he sometimes wished he could live.

John had been dreaming of that life for almost six months. The dreams had started sometime after New Year's, and they had been continual ever since—and always about a mystery girl who he found extraordinary. He showed her the entire universe - or perhaps, it was the other way around. He'd wake up craving that life - and sometimes craving the girl whose face he couldn't even describe.

Harry was right. He was going mad.

John sighed and picked up his transferal papers. No more managing from location at Henrik's. After today, he'd manage in an office - for as long as he had the job. He shook off the thoughts of longing and regrets and headed towards the elevator.

"Martha's right," John said firmly to himself as he stepped in the elevator. "This is just the next step before studying astronomy. You're halfway there, John."

The basement of Henrik's wasn't a cheery place. Dark and drab, it felt like a dungeon waiting to be used. John shuddered; he was relieved Wilson's office was being moved to a building above ground. He would quit if he had to work in a place like this.

"Wilson!" John called, rapping his fingers on a pipe. It left an echoing ratter through the halls. "Will, are you there?"

There wasn't a reply. John sighed and walked down the hall, shuddering because of the draft. "Wilson. It's John. John Tyler? I've got the papers!"

He heard a rattling noise not far in front of him. John sighed and continued to walk. "Look, Wilson, it's getting late. My girlfriend's expecting me for dinner in an hour... God knows how long this'll take. Wilson?"

There was a crashing sound behind a door, and John rolled his eyes. "Blimey, Wilson, I know you're upset about retiring, but hiding? That's just childish. Come on, we've all got places to be."

John opened the door to the maintenance room and shouted in shock when a plastic mannequin raised its arm and aimed to strike him. John kicked the plastic torso, knocking the mannequin backwards. "Blimey," John gasped. "I almost thought that thing was alive."

John backed away and started to turn before movement caught his eye. "Wilson," John began, before he noticed what was moving.

The mannequin was standing up, and several more plastic people were behind it. All began to walk in sync towards John.

"Okay, very funny," John said impatiently. "An immature school prank. I got it. You've got me. You can stop now."

The creatures continued to get closer. Panic seized John's heart, and he began to back away. "Really, though," he tried again. "You can stop now."

His back hit a wall, and John lost his breath. He turned to run, but the mannequins surrounded him at this point. "Killed by plastic," John retorted hopelessly. "Most exciting thing that's happened to me my whole life - and it's right at the end."

He closed his eyes and braced himself for the plastic things, hoping someone desperately that they'd back away, or that the prank would be called off.

Then, he felt a small hand slip into his. Before he could even open his eyes, he felt warmth pour through his body. I'm safe, he thought immediately.

His head whipped around to see who had given him light, and his eyes settled on a beautiful girl. Her eyes were filled with the universe, and the mischievous smile on her face proved she knew what was going on here. She tugged on his hand and whispered, "Run."

He didn't hesitate to take off with her. John wasn't sure how she had cleared a path through the mannequins, but his mind was moving too quickly to care. She had just saved his life, however she had done it. They finally slowed after a while, and she dropped his hand after a moment. John froze in his tracks, staring at the beautiful woman.

Her hair was blonde, pulled hastily into a messy bun behind her left ear. Her eyes were hazel, appearing hard and cold. She walked gracefully, swiftly, with purpose, leaving starlight in her wake. She wore dark jeans, a purple jumper, and a tight-fitting black leather jacket.

"Um," John said, feeling slightly intimidated. This woman was clearly ready for battle, while he stood in front of her wearing khakis and a blue button-up oxford shirt. "Erm... What the hell was that?"

"Plastic," the woman said simply. She continued to pace, and John noticed for the first time that she held a strange contraption in her hands. "It was living plastic."

"Sick prank," he said, thinking she was joking. His chivalry kicked in, and he stepped forward determinedly. "No need to worry, miss, I'm sure security will figure it out. It's best we get out of here..."

"Oh, you think?" she said sarcastically, shooting John a smug look. "Whole place is being taken over by plastic mannequins and he thinks we should get out. Give the man a medal!"

John huffed, indignant. "Just trying to help the lady," he muttered.

"Yeah, a real gentleman; thanks a lot."

"Who are you?" John snapped, growing tired of the woman who had saved his life. She stopped pacing and gave him an irritated look. She opened her mouth, before her eyes darted behind him and went wide. She extended her hand and he grabbed it without thinking, letting her tug him forward again.

"Blimey, they're quick," she muttered. John glanced behind them to see the plastic mannequins once again on their trail.

"Are you used to men chasing after you?" John teased, his anger dissipating slightly. The woman laughed and tugged him further.

They reached an elevator, which she stepped into quickly. John slammed the 'close-door' button immediately, and she pressed the button that would take them to the ground floor. The mannequins stumbled closer as the doors began to close, and one managed to get its arm in. The woman squeaked in surprise and fumbled to reach into her pockets. John stared at her for a brief second before reaching up and ripping the arm off. The door slid closed and John stared at the arm in shock.

"Brilliant!" the woman shouted, jumping up and down. She took the arm out of his hands and studied it. "That was quick thinking, I'll give you that."

John beamed, proud, before realizing she had avoided all of the questions he had asked. "Who are you?" John asked as the doors opened again. She stepped into the store, which had closed at this point, and glanced at the device in her hands.

"Doesn't matter," she said dismissively. John followed after her as she wandered through the store.

"But—" he began, but she cut him off.

"Oi!" she cried, whipping around. "You need to get out of here. Get as far away as you can, and warn the others. As for me, well... Forget me. Forget this night ever happened. I'm just a figment of your imagination."

"Really, because I know what that's like and you're more real than my imagination," John retorted. "I'm not forgetting you."

"But you will," she said dismissively. "You'll move on with your life. You'll move in with your girlfriend, become a shop manager somewhere, and have Sunday brunches with your mum and football matches with your mates on Fridays. You'll forget who I am. My face will start to fade and when someone asks about this night, the only thing you'll think of saying is, 'That night? Why's that night important?'"

John was shocked at how much she knew without even knowing who he was. He shook his head. "Fine, if you aren't going to tell me who you are, tell me who they are!"

The woman sighed. "They're living plastic creatures being controlled by a relay device on the roof. That'd be a huge problem for everyone if I didn't have this!" She showed him the device in her hands proudly. "So, I'm gonna go upstairs…and blow it up. "And I might well die in the process. But don't worry about me; I'm used to almost dying. You go on home, back to the girlfriend and the mum and the brunch. And if you won't forget about me, don't tell anyone about me. If you do, you'll get them killed."

John blinked, shocked, and then opened his mouth to respond. He looked around for the mysterious woman, though he couldn't find her. It was only a second later that he heard the storage door slam shut. John stared at it in awe before turning around. He had barely taken one step when he heard the door swing open.

"If you really want to know who I am, I'm the Doctor," the woman said quickly. "What's your name?"

"John," John answered quickly. He flinched. "John, my name's John."

"Pleasure to meet you, John," the Doctor said pleasantly, flashing a cheeky smile. She waved the bomb dramatically. "Run for your life!"

If you're reading this, that means you bore with us until the end. Which brings big smiles to our faces! Yes, our - as in plural! This story is co-written between two psychotic Whovians. Maybe one day, we'll reveal our separate Fanfiction accounts - which *drumroll* do actually exist. Anyway!
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