All of these characters belong to the BBC, except Seph. She's all mine...
This is my first Whovian fic, but don't be scared. I am a life-long die-hard fan, so there won't be any anomalies, at least as far as I know- please let me know if there is.
Please review as I need all the help that I can get.
I was sure that the blue box hadn't been there six hours before. In fact, I'd never seen it in my life. It was way too big and clumsy and- well- blue not to have missed it. And, I don't miss things. Full stop. It stood on the corner of the alleyway as if it were observing me. Judging me. I stuck two fingers up at it- then, checked behind me in case someone had seen. The last thing I needed was another person thinking I was a nutter. But, then again, maybe I had finally gone around the twist. Other kids from school just kept on walking by, like it wasn't actually there. They were the last dregs of the latest classes. Soon, the street would be empty and it would just be me and my imaginary box.
There were footsteps pounding down the street. I ignored them. Probably yet another victim fleeing from Kirk Fitzharris. They wouldn't be the last. I stayed staring at the blue box, then sighed. What good was this doing me? I hefted my bag onto my shoulder again and turned to start walking.
A thick, horrible crack. Pain and the most sickening sensation of dizziness. It was as if my life was flowing out of the pain in my head and as if the rest of everything was flooding in. Lights, voices. Words, endless, meaningless without context, yet so wrapped up in connotation. People, places, death, life. And loss. So much hollow loss that I feel like I am being swallowed whole by its raging, aching maw. Then, empty blackness and nothing.
The first thing that I noticed as I returned to myself was that my blasted bag was still on my shoulder. It always, always fell off when I was being shoved in the corridors, when I was trying to escape classrooms, when I was trying to stare endlessly at blasted blue boxes. Why, when I am knocked down does it decide to stay on? Probably to spite me. I could feel the beginnings of a bruise already where my books were pressing against my hips. Stupid, bloody bag.
I pushed myself up onto my elbows, squinting through eyes that seemed to be rolling and focusing of their own accord. I could hear a panicky, female voice saying the same word over and over. The voice seemed to be coming from a red-haired woman kneeling on the floor. What the hell was she doing down there? I shuffled myself into a sitting position and cursed under my breath as my head span. I hadn't felt this rough since- well we don't go there. Not anymore.
I stumbled to my feet and looked over the red-haired woman's shoulder. A man was laying splaying out on his back, just like I had been. Wildly, I wondered if the blue box that still stood next to me hadn't liked him either. He was tall and thin, with arms and legs that seemed unnaturally slender, like a spider's. I imagined him running with them flicking everywhere. A brown pinstripe suit covered his skinniness and he was wearing a pair of dirty white Converse. I was instantly jealous and wanted them. I'd always wanted Converse, but one day in a pair of imitations had proved that my feet really didn't share my interest. He had a thin face, topped off with a crest of brown hair, and I could see his features lit up in animation in my mind's eye. I looked away, for a second. This was weird. I could imagine him running and smiling as clearly as if I was looking in a mirror. I shook my head and let the rolling waves of vertigo take the images away.
He sat up so fast me and the red-haired lady withdrew, her leaping to her feet. He made a noise like a helicopter, shaking his head like a dog. He stopped, looking straight ahead and sticking his lower jaw out, taking stock. Then, leapt to his feet, his legs careering out from underneath him. He set his arms on the lady's shoulders, grinning like a fool, wiggling his chin around.
'Who-ah!' he croaked, all kid at a fair-ground. The woman looked at him for a minute, when slapped him. He stumbled backwards and fell against the wall beside me. 'What was that for?' he asked incredulously, but almost jocular, like it was a well-practised inside joke. The woman didn't look too happy, though.
'You scared me! What the hell was all that, Doctor?' She took the two steps forward and hugged him. He looked stunned for about two seconds then hugged her back, his gangly arms easily wrapping around her as if it was her who needed help staying upright, not him.
'I'm fine, Donna,' he said, just quiet enough to sound sincere, but with just enough of a smile so he wasn't patronising her. Bloody hell, now I envied her, with a mate like that. All this jealousy. Dr Flipping Freud 2.0 would have a field day. 'Honestly, look at me.' She drew back and stared at him like people stared at me in the corridors. Like he was insane. A livid purple bruise stood out on his forehead. I could feel a doppelganger on my own forehead 'Anyway. Where is she?'
'Where's who?' Donna asked.
'The girl I ran into-' he stopped. He'd spotted me out of the corner of his eye. I shifted. They'd noticed me. Slowly, they both turned to face me. Two pairs of eyes, one infinitely deep brown and the other hazel, came to rest accusingly on me. I felt my breath hitch in my throat. The man, this Doctor, took the beginnings of a step towards me. That was enough.
I ditched my stupid bag and ran.