Disclaimer: I do not own the Doctor Who series. The Doctor Who series is the property of the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC), and is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.
The Night of Their Meeting
In a still neighborhood stuffed with small houses, a blue car cruises through the thin road. Yes, blue. As blue as blue can be. With a slivering tint of silver mixed in. Anyways, said car easily navigates the slim space between other vehicles and slides into the empty driveway of a cheerful yellow abode. The compact ride doesn't even stop vrooming before an elderly lady, Paula, hobbles out of the house. Her black bob bounces with each bubbly step and her dark eyes buzz with adoration.
The driver's door pops open and out steps our main character, Robin. She looks like woman's mini-me, dark tan and petite. Black hair and eyes. And smiles all around. The two embrace each other excitedly before moving back and holding one another at arm's length.
"Hey mom," Robin greets the woman with a little peck on the cheek before pulling away. She pops the trunk open and moves around to the back. Out she pulls a brown messenger bag and gray duffle bag. The latter looks like it's about to burst.
"How was the trip?" her mom asks. Seeing the young brunette struggle with the duffle bag, she steps forward and easily lifts it up and over her shoulder. Robin can only give a sheepish grin at the action. The daughter slams the trunk close, then follows her mother towards the front door.
"There was no traffic, so I'd say it was good," Robin answers.
"I'm glad. We wanted to pick you up, but something's wrong with the brakes in my car and you dad has to work overtime today," Paula confesses with a frustrated frown. They cross through the threshold and the younger of the duo takes the lead from there. After all, the old woman needed to take the time to lock up the door real tight.
"But if I don't take the car out every once in a while, it'll just be gathering dust in the parking garage. Besides, it's a four hour drive just from campus to here and I know you guys don't like long trips." Robin opens a wooden white door and steps into a simplistic bedroom. With pale pink walls and flowery, pastel purple covers, the room looks more befitting of either an senior citizen or a child. Not the in-between.
"I laundered the bedsheets yesterday and vacuumed the room, so hopefully it's comfortable." Paula follows in after her daughter, placing the duffle bag near the oak desk at the foot of the bed. A glint off metal catches her eye and she picks it up off the desk. It's an old pocket watch, circular patterns deeply engraved into the dull silver.
"By the way, you forgot to take your watch with you," she says, her eyes reluctantly pulling away from the vintage timepiece to look up. Robin pauses in her unpacking to see her mom fiddling with the watch.
"Oh yeah, I didn't notice it until I was halfway down the highway," Robin says absentmindedly before going back to her tasks. She didn't care too much about the thing – it didn't even work. Nonetheless, Paula flips open the cover, but nothing on the clock moved. Frozen.
"You used to take it everywhere with you when you were younger," the old woman reminisces. Her daughter only lets out a brief laugh.
"It was a phase, mom. I only carried it around then because I thought I looked really cool with it." The brunette is tempted to scowl at the thought of her younger, cringe-worthy self. But she settles for a small frown instead.
"And you were," Paula reassures her daughter, almost teasingly. The college student pauses and leans her head back to give the woman the most dead, unconvinced look she can muster.
"You're my mom, you're supposed to say that." Mother and daughter share a delightful laugh before falling into a comfortable silence for a few.
"Well," her mom disperses the quietness, bringing her hands together in a single clap, "I know how you get exhausted after a long drive, so I'll leave you to your unpacking and nap, okay? Oh, also, we're having your favorite tonight for dinner; lumpia and palabok with halo-halo for dessert*." The grin almost splits Robin's face in half.
"You hardly ever make those outside of holidays. Why now?" she can't help but wonder.
"Oh," her mom shrugs, "I just wanted to eat something other than rice and fish tonight," she casually explains. "In any case, go ahead and get ready for bed. I'll wake you up when for dinner, okay?"
"Hmm…" Robin hums a bit in thought, "I was thinking about checking out the little garden out back when I'm done unpacking. Dad's been bragging about how well it's been going since I last came back."
"Well alright. But if you want to do some yard work, I'm not stopping you, okay?" Paula sends her one last smile before leaving the bedroom, silently closing the door behind her.
.o0o.o0o.
When Robin walks back into the house through a sliding glass door in the back, she can hear the soft voice of her mom floating through the walls. She wiggles out of the larger wellies and briefly washes her hands of the dirt before walking further into the home. In the living room was Paula, lounging on the end of the couch and talking to someone on the phone.
Robin figured that the person on the other end of the line must've been an old friend or perhaps relative of some sorts for her mom was speaking in her native tongue. While she understood Tagalog* just fine, her parents originally spoke completely different dialects. So, even if they were from the same country, they still had to use the former to bridge the language barrier.
The conversation doesn't last long as her mom puts the phone back into the receiver, right as the college student pours herself a cool drink of water in the kitchen.
"So what did you think of the garden?" Paula eagerly asks, standing from her seat and walking across the living room to put the phone back on the receiver.
"It's really coming along well, especially the carrots," Robin responds with a sagely nod. Paula beams with pride and happiness at the approval as she walks into the kitchen to grab herself a snack from the pantry. "Who were you talking to on the phone?" she can't help but wonder, stepping to the side so her mom has more room to move around the small space.
"It was Dr. Smith. You remember them, right?" Yeah, Robin remembers that name. It was someone who was close to her parents. Someone who, oddly enough, could understand both their native tongues when they were speaking over the phone.
"Ah yes, the ever elusive 'Dr. Smith'. I never actually met them, but you and dad speak good of them during the few times they're mentioned." Which was once in a blue moon, if she were to be honest. And they were remarks made in passing rather than an actual conversation. Still, it was a person Robin wants to meet if they got her parents' approval.
"You were so young, so you might not remember. But don't worry, I have a feeling you'll meet them again soon," says Paula as she closes the fridge door, revealing a secretive smile. She gently pats Robin's shoulder before leaving the kitchen with a bottle of iced tea and her daughter in confusion.
.o0o.o0o.
"Hey there."
Robin looks up from her line and turns her head towards the voice to see a black woman, perhaps a few years older than herself, in a leather jacket approaching her with a kind smile. She straightens her back as the stranger approaches, watching her curiously. When the unknown person is within regular talking distance, the smile on her face morphs into an eager grin.
"Hello," Robin greets with a nod as she reels back her line. The brunette looks away for a brief second, her attention being drawn to the wildly flopping fish dangling at the end of the hook.
"I don't think I've seen you around the neighborhood. You new?" she inquires without looking, instead bringing the fish closer. Robin easily unhooks the creature before dumping it into a white bucket at her feet, filled with humming water and other fish.
"Yeah, I haven't been here long." Robin's head swivels to face the unknown person, curiosity and wonder shining from her eyes.
"That accent. Are you from England?" she can't help but ask. The stranger nods then holds up a hand in greeting.
"Yep. Martha Smith, it's nice to meet you. I'd like to shake your hand, but maybe not right now," the woman, Martha, says with a laugh, causing Robin to smile in the humor. She'd never met someone from Europe before, so it was a little exciting.
"Nice to meet you too, Miss Smith. Name's Robin Lobendino," the fisherwoman introduces herself as she threads a piece of cut shrimp into the hook for another go.
"Oh, none of that 'miss' stuff, it makes me feel old. Martha's just fine," the British lady waved off with a bit of a laugh. She watches Robin throw the line, her gaze following the hook as it sails through the clean air in a near-perfect arc before disappearing under the clear lake in a soft plop.
"Alright then, Martha, what brings you all the way to this little town? It's not exactly a tourist destination, especially if you're coming from so far away."
"Nothing, really," Martha just gives a nonchalant shrug, but the corners of her mouth twitched in the tiniest way. It's as if she knew a secret, one that she just can't wait to tell someone about it. "I'm just travelling around a bit with my husband."
"Martha!" Both of their heads turn around at the call and they see a black man, dressed similarly to Martha. He make his way over the grassy hill and towards them, an arm up and waving.
"Speak of the devil," Martha playfully murmurs to Robin before gesturing for the man to come over. When he makes it to their spot, Robin can't help but smile at the sweet sight of the man wrapping an arm around the woman's waist and giving a little peck on the cheek.
"Mickey, this is Robin. Robin, this is Mickey," she introduces them to each other with accompanying gestures. Mickey nods with a smile and holds out a hand. But Robin shakes her head, holding up her hand and wiggling her fingers to show off some of the slime on them. The older man nods in understanding and puts his hand down.
"It's nice to meet you, Robin," Mickey greets her, lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly.
"Same," the young woman nods. "How are you two finding the town?" Robin can't help but inquire. While there really isn't anything to do, she can't help but love the place for its peacefulness and hopes that the foreigners also find beauty in the serenity.
"It's a very quiet place, nothing really going on," the British man nods, looking around the clearing with a raised brow in an exaggerated manner.
"Not like it's bad. Sometimes we are in desperate need of the sort of calm in our lives," Martha interjects, giving her husband a particularly hard poke into the side of his stomach. He gives a very brief yelp at the sudden contact before offering her a sheepish smile in apology.
"How hectic do they get, if you don't mind me asking?" Right when she asks that, something tugs against the line, causing the tip of the rod to bend slightly at each tug. Robin reacts immediately, jerking the pole upward and reeling her catch in as fast as she can.
"Oh, it gets very chaotic. But it's not something I can ever give up now that I know what it's like," the English woman explains with such a relaxed expression. The couple observe Robin as she reels in her catch, unhooks it, and places it with the others in the bucket at her feet.
"What about you, then? Got any adventures you're living through?" Mickey asks in return right when Robin kneels down and reaches in to a plastic bag that's half full of shrimp, taking a fist full of them out and onto the bucket lid on the ground. She looks around her little station, as if in search of something. Mickey steps forward, leaning down to grab a pair of scissors that's just out of her line of sight and handing them over to her. Robin takes the scissors with a brief word of thanks then goes about the task of cutting the shrimp into smaller sizes.
"Hmm…" the fisherwoman hums, her lips pulling down to the side. "Not really, no," she shakes her head, looking out into the water. Despite not really watching her own actions, the young woman continues making more bait for herself, her movements fluid and natural.
"Ever wanted to go on an adventure?" Martha further questions, causing Robin to pause and really think about it. The couple carefully observes her for her reaction, as if carefully anticipating her answer.
"Sure I've dreamed about it before, but I'm pretty content with my life right now. I mean, my parents are happy and I'm about to graduate with a bachelor's. So no, I don't really want to go out and travel right now. Maybe later when I have a stable job and steady source of income," Robin tells them with a bit of a shrug. She notes how the two foreigners deflate with her response, but she can't help it. While going out to travel the world may be a dream come true for many, one also has to think of the reality of their situation.
"Well, this sort of lifestyle could be adventurous as well. I mean, I hear fishing can get intense from time to time," Mickey speaks up, trying to lighten the mood.
"Yeah, it does," the American chuckles, remembering some of her more crazy ocean adventures. "Do you two know how to fish?" she asks them.
"An old friend taught us a while ago," Martha confirms, her gaze growing distant like she's remembering some good old times.
"Well, I've got some extra rods in my car. Care to join me?" Robin offers. The two look at each other briefly then back at the fisherwoman and give her a nod. Robin gives them a smile, sets down the scissors, wipes her hands on a rag that was with her equipment, and walks over to her blue car. The two follow closely behind as the young woman pops open the trunk and slides out two other fishing poles, handing them off to the couple.
"Oh, do you have a charger by any chance. My phone's about to die and I'm not sure how much longer Martha and I will be outside," Martha suddenly requests.
"Depends. Android or Apple?"
"Android." Nodding in approval, Robin gestures for the woman to follow her up to the front of the car. She opens the door to the driver's seat and leans in to go through the glove compartment. When she came back up, potable charger in hand, her leg bumps against the door and causes something round and metallic to stumble out of the side pocket.
"It's alright, I got it." Martha bends down to pick up the fallen item and stands back up. However, instead of handing it back to its owner, she eyes the thing in his hold. Her thumb runs over the intricate engravings in the lackluster metal.
"What's that then?" Mickey comes up to them, looking from behind her husband to see what he has. "A fob watch?"
"Yeah, some old guy just gave it to me when I was younger. Maybe ten or eleven years ago?" her voice raises slightly in the end, a sign that even she isn't too sure.
"May I?" the English woman places a her thumb over the top button and Robin gives her the nod to go ahead. The cover springs open to reveal a normal-looking clock, but there's something off about it. Martha brings the back to her ear, brows furrowed in confusion. She even shakes it a few times, but her frown remains. "It's not working," she concludes, bringing the watch back down.
"It never did work. I was actually gonna make a trip to the mall to see if there's a watchmaker there who could fix it. Anyway here's the charger." The two trade their items.
"Can I take a look at it?" Mickey pipes up and Robin easily drops the watch into his palm. He takes the time to admire the craftsmanship of the watch before asking, "Why are you getting this fixed now if it's been broken for so long?"
"I don't know," the brunette casually shrugs, "My parents kept bringing it up for the past week, so I thought 'why not'," Robin explains.
"Lucky that you ran into us, huh?" When Robin turns to see Mickey holding the watch out to her. She eyes his secretive little smile with a bit of suspicion, slowly taking the pocket watch. Silence reigns over the small group and it takes a couple of seconds for Robin to register the soft ticking against her palm.
In astonishment, Robin turns the timepiece over in her hand and impatiently presses the button so that the latch releases the cover. At a quick, first glance, there's hardly a noticeable difference. But she's had this thing for years now and can spot it in an instant. Extremely thin and hardly noteworthy is the second hand, metronomically moving clockwise around the roman numerals.
"Wha-Ho-How!?" the young woman stutters out, her eyes, wide in disbelief and bewilderment, whipping between Mickey's smug smile and the working clock. Her awe naturally melts into hearty, deep laughter as she speaks, "Amazing. All these years and it's finally working. How'd you do it?"
Robin plops down into her driver's seat, hypnotized by the watch.
"I used to be a mechanic. Stuff like clocks is pretty simple work," the man shrugs, trying to act modest and all.
"So that's all it really takes, huh?" Robin quietly murmurs. "I tried to fix it when I was younger, but I was just stumped when I opened it up to look at the inside. I couldn't make heads or tails of anything, even when I looked it up online. I just stopped trying after that."
Her head is starting to feel a bit too heavy for her liking.
"You okay?"
Robin blinks rapidly. "Yeah, yeah. Still just surprised, is all…"
It's becoming hard to focus. She starts to fall back, but steady hands grip her shoulders.
"Hey. It's going to be alright, okay? Trust me, you're going to be fine."
Robin doesn't know what's happening. she is terrified.
"Just close your eyes and let it happen."
She doesn't want to. But Robin does it anyway.
.o0o.o0o.
The piercing sound of a high-pitched alarm, along with the sharp lights of electrical explosions and unstable quaking, forces Robin awake and she shoots up from a cold, hard surface with a gasp of surprise. It was dark, but the brief flashes of light from hot sparks and the digital, blue screen in the front was enough for her to deduce that she was in some sort of computer room. There were windows around, but they were too high for her to see out of them.
"Help me, please. Can anybody hear me?" a woman's voice desperately calls out in the front. Robin can't seem to get a good look at her since the chair she is seated on, if it could even be called a chair, blocks her off. But there's something that catches Robin's attention immediately. It's the sound of her voice, accented like that Martha and Mickey couple she met before she passed out.
"Please state the nature of your ailment of injury," an automated voice echoes from speakers all around, completely neutral and even throughout. Robin can't help but whimper a bit at the computerized tone, thinking how such a voice simply didn't fit the growing despair of the situation.
"I'm not injured, I'm crashing. I don't need a doctor," the woman growls in irritation, swiveling her chair around to rapidly punch in some sort of sequence into the control panels around her.
"Wh-where am I?" Robin finally speaks up, but her quivering voice is almost drowned out by the alarms and creaking of the metal walls. The woman urgently pivots the chair to an almost 180 to look at her, eyes wide in agony and utter bewilderment.
"Who are you? How did you get on this ship?" the stranger demands of her, causing the terrified woman to curl into herself, wringing her hands together to the point where her short nails were making lasting indents into her skin.
"I do-don't know!" she manages to utter out past her stammering. "I-I was just fishing by th-the lake and now I'm here. I-I swear!" Tears start dribbling from her eyes and Robin finds herself gasping, only for small sobs to leave her lips. The woman's features soften with sympathy at the dismal sight.
"You stupid computer!" The woman slams a fist into the surface of the panel in fury. The rage behind the abrupt action further terrorizes Robin to the point where she's almost nearly a sitting ball on the floor, quietly weeping behind her knees.
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry that you were dragged into this," the captain of the failing ship apologizes in almost a whisper, but Robin can hear her clearly. She weakly nods in understanding.
"A clear statement of your symptoms will help us provide the medical practitioner appropriate to your individual needs," the computerized voice cuts in, utterly emotionless like before. Robin hates it.
"I'm trying to send a distress signal. And you didn't even transport in a doctor, you transported a civilian!"
"I'm a doctor. But probably not the one you were expecting," another voice, a man's, calmly speaks out. Both women immediately jump and swirl around to see who the newcomer is. Casually leaning against the entryway is an older man with short curly hair and a scruffy, vintage suit. It doesn't take long for him to kick off from the arch and stride over to where Robin is. He gently takes a hold of her arms and guides her to stand up, albeit rushing her a bit.
"How are you feeling?" the supposed doctor tenderly asks, absolute concern lacing through his every words. But Robin can't even give him a proper answer, trembling too much that it's hard to even stand properly. So instead, the Doctor gingerly leads her to the nearest seat and guides her to sit. "I'll get all of us out of here safely, okay? I promise," he swears to her, his voice light yet strong. Robin numbly nods and pulls her knees up to the chair.
"Where are the rest of the crew?" the Doctor then turns to the captain, striding over to her seat and looking over the controls.
"Teleported off," she hastily answers.
"But you're still here," he looks back at her, his eyes flickering between the two for a brief moment. "And you've got her."
"I teleported them. But I must've teleported her in by mistake. And then the transmats started failing."
"Why you?"
"Everyone else was screaming." Finally, the mystery man turns to fully face the captain, a free hand out in offering.
"Welcome aboard," he tells her. The woman breathes out in hope, an optimistic smile on her face now.
"Aboard what?" the captain asks, her voice raising with her mood.
"I'll show you." He holds out his other hand for Robin to take as well. The two in distress glance at each other briefly before reaching out to take his hand at the same time. As the explosions of electric sparks grow bigger and more frequent, he hurriedly tugs them out of the bridge and down a hallway.
"Where are we going?" Robin finally speaks up as they're running through the metallic interior, her voice carrying over the blasts of the failing ship. The three are bathed in deep red as the emergency lights switch on.
"Back of the ship, my dearest."
"Why?" This time, it's the captain who inquires.
"Because the front crashes first, think it through," he easily answers, as if it's an easy-enough conclusion to come to. Suddenly, a door right in front of them clangs shut and the Doctor groans out in exasperation, "Oh! Why did you do that?"
"Emergency protocols," the captain quickly explains, releasing the Doctor's hand to throw her own up with the same feeling of annoyance he has.
"What's your name then?" the man in vintage inquires, pulling out a little silver rod from within his coat with his now-free hand. It turns on and emits a weak red light and weird sounds as he waves it over the edges of the door.
"Cass."
"Robin," she answers only a second later. He was speaking in singulars and she wasn't sure who he was really talking to.
"You're young to be crewing a gunship, Cass," he comments.
"Wanted to see the universe," Cass says quietly, almost mournfully like she's kissing that very wish goodbye. "Is it always like this?"
"If you're lucky," the Doctor briefly turns to them and nods. Robin cracks a bit of a smile at the dry humor and Cass even lets out a joking scoff. Finally, the latch on the thick doors releases and slide back open to reveal a battered blue box with the words Police Public Call Box shining in golden yellow at the top. The Doctor puts his little device back into his coat, takes hold of Cass's hand, and tugs them further towards the box.
"Don't worry. It's bigger on the inside," he tells them. He lets go of Robin and reaches towards the silver handle.
"What did you say? 'Bigger on the inside'? Is that what you said?" Cass asks in an indiscernible tone of voice. Robin looks back at her, instantly noticing how all the hope the captain previously had was quickly draining away. Something is wrong. Something is terribly, terribly wrong.
"Yes, come on. You'll love it," the Doctor tries to convince her, gesturing towards the blue wooden doors with his head.
"Is this a TARDIS?" The captain brings up a trembling hand to point at the box.
"Yes, but you'll be perfectly safe. I promise you," he continues to push towards his point.
"Don't touch me!" Cass angrily declares, forcibly pulling her hand out of the Doctor's hold. The man in vintage is silent for a second, an unnerving seriousness overtaking his face. Robin nervously takes a step back away from him and Cass, eyes darting between the two. What was going on? What could have happened to cause such an abrupt change?
"I'm not part of the war. I swear to you, I never was," he enunciates. Robin starts to panic again, her mind trying to come up with a solution. But she knows nothing of this situation she's been thrown in, absolutely nothing. They're on some sort of gunship that's going to crash soon, most likely going to kill them all if they don't get out soon. Now there's a war going on, a dangerous ones by the sound of it.
"You're a Time Lord," the captain all but accuses him, absolute hate dripping from her words.
"Yes, I'm a Time Lord, but I'm one of the nice ones," the Doctor smiles, but there's an edge of misery radiating from him. He tries to reach out for Cass, but she takes a step back, towards the chaos of the ship.
"Get away from me!" She makes an attempt to grab for Robin, but the Doctor is the first to get a hold of her. He harshly pulls her over and shoves her through the door of his police box. The brunette stumbles through and gracelessly falls on cold, hard floor.
Gone were the eruptions and turbulence of the falling gunship. Instead, everything was steady again, with the peaceful hums of machines going off in the background. Slowly, Robin places her hands flat against smooth ground and lifts herself up. There are candelabras everywhere, all of varying sizes and all still burning. However, the neon blue light in a tube in the center of the enormous room easily outshines all of them. It takes a brief moment for Robin to realize just exactly where she is.
"My god, it really is bigger on the inside," she breathes out in equal parts shock and dread. She manages to get up on her feet and make her way towards the blue light with unsteady, uneven steps. Looking around, she notices some antique pieces of furniture scattered around, like a small telescope of some sort and classic globe. It greatly contrasts the center of the room, where there are six, industrial-like structures that go up and arch into the tube of blue lights.
Robin steps up onto the platform and circles a hexagon of panels of odd buttons and switches. The young woman is tempted to push one and see if it can help them, but gets the feeling that that would be an awful course of action.
"What do you plan to do to her?" Robin's head snaps up in recognition of Cass's voice. Even though it crackling like it's coming through the speakers of an old TV, it's definitely the captain. She circles the panels again and spots a tiny TV that's bolted to the side. On the screen was the Doctor's back and Cass behind an octagonal window.
"I'm going to get her to safety, just like I promised you. Now, just open the door. I'm trying to help." But is he really? Cass, kind, young Cass who showed her such sympathy when she had awoken, who apologized and blamed herself for bringing her into the conflict, who tried to pull her away from a soldier, seemed to think that the Doctor is their enemy.
"I shouldn't have called out for help. If I had known a civilian would be here, I would've just teleported the crew out of here and waited patiently for this ship to crash." Even though they didn't know each other, Robin clung to those tiny signs of compassion that the brave woman managed to give in the face of death.
"It doesn't have to be this way. If you can just open the doors and come into the TARDIS, I can fly you two out of here and leave you be. We don't have to see each other ever again." But the medical man is also being kind, daring to go into a crashing vehicle to get them out.
"Never. Time Lords or Daleks, all you do is destroy everything and everyone in your paths just to win some stupid war. Some of the universe is still standing, but it won't be for long will it?" Everything about the situation is all sorts of wrong and she wonders why she's even here in the first place. Robin wonders if her mom or dad are worried about her, left in the misery and uncertainty as to where there daughter could be. God, just thinking about it makes her heart ache in agony and the tears begin anew.
"I'm not leaving this ship without you." Why, oh why, did she have to talk to that couple by the lake? They fixed the watch and let her black out, so they had to be connected to this. Had she done something so horribly wrong to them that they sent her here out of revenge or spite? How did she even get here?
"Well, you're going to die right here. And I feel sorry for that girl, for dragging her here, but at least you won't be alive to turn her into one of your soldiers. Best news all day." Robin crumples to the floor, hands tightly pressed against her ears to block out any more of their conversation. She prays with all her might and desperation that it's all just a bad dream and that her mom will wake her up for breakfast like usual and her dad will tease her for sleeping in as he always does.
Suddenly, the ship violently rocks and Robin is painfully thrown to the floor. The miserable brunette just wants to curl up and cry her heart out, then possibly fall asleep and wake up in her bed. But no. She has to know what had happened. She has to know if, at the very least, Cass and the Doctor are fine. They are such kind people.
So, with waning strength, Robin pushes herself to her feet and stumbles towards the door she was shoved through. Once there, she tries to pull them open, but nothing happens. She begins to tug on the handle in a panic, until it finally unlatches and is abruptly pushed open. Robin falls again, this time on rocky ground.
She rises to her feet to take in the area. No longer is she in a cramped, dark ship. Now she was outside, in a place of jagged spires and a sunset sun. In the flames, she can make out parts of the ship, damaged and destroyed. Robin cautiously steps over and around the metallic debris, dark eyes roving over in search of anyone else.
"Cass!" Robin calls out the second she spots the captain. The woman doesn't move, even as Robin slides down to her knees and next to her. She's desperately shaking her, constantly calling out her name and hoping for any sign of life. Deep down, Robin knows what happened. But she still hopes.
"She's dead, girl." Her own hair whips her with how fast she turns, but she pays the stinging no mind. Instead, her focus zeroes in on a group of women in deep red robes.
"Wh-who are you?" she shudderingly asks, huddling closer to Cass's colding body. The women are eerily still.
"You must come with us, Robin," they speak as one, their voices blending into each other. They take a step forward in unison.
"N-no. I-" She shuts herself up as the group surround her. While a part of Robin wants to rebel against them and demand where she is, the brunette knows that complying is the easiest course of action. Together, all of them lift an arm in a gesture to go forward. So, with a shuddering gulp, Robin rises to her feet and follows their directions.
From the corner of her eye, she notices that one of them lifts up Cass's body and moves to walk behind her. There is no more conversation as they take both the women out of the wreckage. Eventually, the group drags Robin into a cave where lights are flickering. She just barely manages to catch part of an ongoing conversation.
"As a good man, will you have your wife and children fight in your place instead, Doctor?"
"No! Never!"
Robin is directed through an arch and into a cavernous room. There are more of the cloaked strangers, up along the wall and each holding a smoking chalice. The man in vintage and a very old woman immediately focus in on her.
"Then I'm not the one you need to convince of that, am I?" The woman's voice is raspy, words fast and sharp. The terrified brunette is reminded of the old witches from fairy tales, the more she looks at her.
"Robin. You're okay," the Doctor breathes out in relief. But a broken expression of exhaustion and anguish is there. Though Robin can feel the strangers leave her side, all she can do is watch as the man's rough hands come up to gently cup her cheeks. He's cold. And his broken whispers of apologies and reassurance don't make him any warmer.
He's cold.
Cold.
Cold, cold, co—
"Cass is dead." He blinks and leans away from her. The captain's unmoving body is then brought in and carefully laid upon the stone altar. The man rapidly looks between both women before releasing Robin to examine the body.
"You're wasting your time. She is beyond even our help," the old one speaks up.
"I could have saved her. I could have got her off, but she wouldn't listen," he mourns.
"Then she was smarter than you." At that, the medical man looks up. "She understood there was no escaping the Time War. You are part of this, Doctor, whether you like it or not."
"I would rather die," says the man with finality.
"And take your family with you?" the head of the group immediately snaps back. Despite the man's growing anger, she ignores him and turns her attention to the confused girl. "And what about you?"
"Leave her alone." Despite the growl in his voice, the Doctor is ignored.
"If it were you lying on that alter, dead, wouldn't you have wished that someone could have done something?"
"He did try to do something," Robin weakly responds, dark eyes darting between the other two.
"Has he really saved you, though? When all he did was prolong your life for a few more days before the war comes to you?"
"I-I don't know what you're talking about. What war?" War this, war that. Through the turmoil and bewilderment of the last few minutes, Robin can feel herself starting to become agitated too.
"You really don't know, do you?" The mysterious woman begins to circle her like a vulture. "Safe in your home, not knowing that there are whole planets dying by the second. Billions of children screaming in the flames while you sit around in ignorance. How long will it be before you join them? A week? A month?"
"Stop it," the Doctor cuts in before Robin can speak, his voice low and rumbling. He's hunched over Cass's body, but not really looking at her.
"The universe stands on the brink. Do not let it fall. Beg him. Beg him to save us. He is the only one who can." Troubled, dark eyes nervously dart between the other two, a muddled mind whirring to come up with words to say.
"…no…" Robin whispers with a single, miniscule shake of her head. "He…He doesn't want to have anything to do with this war and I don't want to force him." Said man looks up at her, eyes wide in disbelief. But the surprise melts away into a softer expression.
"You would rather put his comfort over everyone else's lives?" the elder sneers at her.
"No, it's not that!" the brunette immediately denies, her anger rising for the first time. However, she takes a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down before continuing. "It's just that…I don't want someone to feel obligated or forced to fight because of me. If he doesn't want to see war, then that's his choice. Not mine."
"What a noble sentiment," the aging woman scoffs. "I wonder if you'll be thinking the same thing when you're screaming, begging for mercy from a Dalek or a Time Lord."
"That's enough," the medicine man groans out, his anger gone to only leave a deep rumble of weariness behind. Robin looks over to see that he had unclipped Cass's baldric and was currently appraising it. Their eyes clash for a brief second, but he looks away as if in shame.
"There's no need for this talk any longer. Make me a warrior. Now." Without another word, the head of the group retrieves her own steaming chalice and hands it off to him.
"I took the liberty of preparing this one myself," she informs him.
"Get out, get out!" he screams, eyes only focused on the chalice in his hands now. The women in red garbs bow their heads and quietly leave the area, but Robin refuses to move. He looks up at her and warns, "You don't want to be here for this."
"…Why are you doing this? Why now, when you've been so adamant about not being a soldier?" she questions him in a quiet voice.
"Because they're right. I know of a way to end the war," the way he pauses and gulps makes Robin think that he has more to say. "But at a terrible price…" he almost whispers in a grave tone.
"Is it going to be worth it, then?" At that, the Doctor's eyes tear away from whatever's in the chalice to look at her—study her.
"For you, it's always worth it." And in the first time since crashing, a small smile forms on the man's face. It's a bit shy and boyish, but its endearment is lost under the aged jadedness of his everything else.
"Will it hurt?"
"I hope so." Robin blinks at that. Why would he want to cause deliberate pain onto himself? It was clear to her that the Doctor is extremely against this war, and yet he is forcing himself to be a part of it. Why make it worse for himself? Before she can protest, the ragged man lifts the cup to his lips and takes a deep drink of its contents. He doubles over almost instantly. The worried woman takes a step forward to help, but he holds a hand up to stop her.
"You should go. Now." It sounds like he's heaving those words of warning out.
"But-but you're hurt! I'm sure I can get some he—" Robin stops herself, watching in morbid fascination as his hands begin to emit a burning, golden light.
"No! No. Listen, my dearest. I don't have much t-time. You need to—" He suddenly snaps back up, his face contorted in unbearable pain. "—need to get back to the ship, the TARDIS!" the Doctor orders her with a scream of agony. Feeling terribly out of her depth—not that she wasn't this entire time—Robin can only numbly nod at the command and turns to leave the room.
"And Robin." Said woman glances back at the Doctor. His voice is but a whisper, but it rings true throughout the cave. "I'm sorry that our first meeting is like this. But I promise you that it's going to get better. I swear."
"…Good luck, mister," Robin wishes him, unsure of what else to say. The best comfort she can offer him now is a smile, albeit a strained one, before taking her leave.
"Is it done?" the elderly woman from before asks the moment she makes it outside, where the rest of her people are waiting. The brunette gives a single, unsure nod and the old lady closes her eyes and softly sighs in relief.
"I see," she says with a nod. Her eyes then snap open and immediately zero in her. "Return to the TARDIS. If the legends are true, then you need to be there. Now go." Robin wants to ask questions the mysterious woman. First a universal war, now legends? The frightened woman is all sorts of messed up right now. But it's not like she even had a chance to ask, with the ladies in red already pushing her towards the direction of the crash and ship.
"May Pythia look after you and protect you on your journey," all of them speak together, their final words before disappearing into the cave.
Robin practically stumbles her way back to the crash site, her wobbling feet carrying her over unknown terrain. It's rocky and unnatural. Where was she? Probably not on Earth. She eventually finds the Doctor's ship, the beaten-up police box. The moment she is just a footstep away from it, both the doors just snap open.
She steps inside, the doors closing behind her automatically, and sits at the edge of the raised platform in the center. Behind her, the console softly beep and boop, adding to the ambiance of the whole…thing…Soothing piano music begins to drift through the room, crackling like it's being played on a distant gramophone. There's so much more Robin wants to do about her situation, wants to question, but her mind begins to grow hazy.
Robin gently lays herself on the ground and blankly stares up at the ceiling, her mind unable to really register anything except the sudden onset of drowsiness. The brunette fights to stay awake, but it's futile.
She closes her eyes. Everything fades to black.
.o0o.o0o.
"What?" Robin twitches awake at the sound of the voice. A man's voice by the sound of it. Her dark eyes flutter open, quickly adjusting to the change of light. Not like it was hard. Wherever she was, it was in a place with golden light in a low setting.
"Who are you?" Another voice. A woman's. The ground is hard and cool, but not solid. It felt like her back was against open holes. A grating?
"What?" It's the man again, his voice a tad bit higher. Robin sits up as silently as she can, really pulling her body up. Looking around, her immediate thoughts of her surroundings is that it's rather dingy. Beat-up.
"Where am I?" She glances over to where two new people were conversing. Or wildly questioning each other, really. They're up on a raised platform with some sort of central device between them. They looked rather classy in their fancy clothes, as opposed to her own casual jeans and shirt.
"What?" Robin looks the other way, to where a set of wooden doors are right there. She remembers the Doctor who chose to fight and wanted pain. Is he okay? She should go and check on him. And maybe she can convince the other two to come or call for help?
"Where the hell is this place?!" Without another thought, Robin shoots for the exit, nearly stumbling on her way. She ignores the shouts of surprise and throws the doors open. But there is no odd stone towers or rocky terrain on the other side.
Instead, it's just a wispy pulsation of sunset colors.
Eerily drifting through the void.
A/N: And finally, after so long, I've released the rewrite of Running Robin! I made a lot of drafts for this first chapter because I couldn't decide which episode to kick off on. But, as you have read, I decided to kick this story off on the mini episode, The Night of the Doctor (don't know if it ever aired, but it's on YouTube if you haven't seen it before).I will be doing episodes from both New and Classic Who and even some stuff from other media, but mostly New Who since there's just so much of Classic and I don't have time to go through all of it.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little introduction and want to see more of the story. Let me know your thoughts or follow Running Robin for more, I'd really appreciate it!
"…lumpia and palabok with halo-halo for dessert." – Traditional Filipino cuisine. Lumpia is the Filipino version of spring rolls, palabok is a noodle dish with shrimp sauce (technically called "pancit palabok"), and halo-halo is a mixture of shaved ice, evaporated milk, ice cream, and other ingredients.
Tagalog – One of the languages of the Philippines. There are many different dialects, but there is a standard Tagalog that is one of the official languages of the country.