She was normal, well, as normal as anyone can be. Monday through Friday, she woke up early and drove to the warehouse where she worked and in the evening she would eat a small dinner and fall asleep. Nothing special or out of the ordinary in her life. Naomi enjoyed the routine that has become her life. That was until one fateful Saturday morning.
The day started off completely normal; she rolled out of bed around 8:30 and quickly rearranged the sheets and pillows. Sheepishly, she wondered out of her bedroom and took small steps into the kitchen and living room. Using the remote, Naomi clicked on the news channel and began to brew a fresh pot of coffee. She let out a yawn just as she turned to her toaster for blueberry bagels. Her bedroom door suddenly opened and she heard heavy steps walk onto the tile floor.
"Yes, two large coffees. Black. As fast as you can."
This voice was fast paced and held some sort of authority. Naomi didn't recognize it at all. Slowly, almost in disbelief, she spun on her heels and faced the man who owned the voice. He was tall and a bit on the older side of the scale. His short greying hair matched his bold eyebrows. He wore a simple black suit with only one button fastened, his shoes coordinated with his suit and his attitude with the slight sour expression on his face.
Naomi opened her mouth to say something, but then shut it again; unsure of what to question first. When she didn't move or say anything, the man rolled his eyes and took a few steps towards her.
"My coffee. Aren't you going to get it?" he almost hissed at her.
"Ho-" she took a defensive step backwards and began to form her line of questions. "Where did you come from?"
"Outside. Now, about the coffee-"
"How?" she demanded a better explanation.
"Through the door-"
"That's impossible. That's not even the front door." Naomi pointed at her bedroom.
The man followed her finger and walked back. Placing his hands on the frame, he looked inside her room. While he was distracted, Naomi grabbed a frying pan from her bottom cabinet and walked over to the strange man. She held the pan behind her back and inched her way closer to him.
"Oh." he muttered, a little disappointment in his voice. "You call that a bedroom?"
Naomi had lifted the pan to her shoulder right as the man turned back to her. She slightly startled him; she saw him flinch in surprise. "What're you planning to do with that?"
"Uh," Naomi couldn't help but be honest, "I was going to hit you when you weren't looking, but you turned around and-"
As she gave her explanation, the man walked past her and into the living room. He spun around, quickly examining her small apartment. Naomi carefully watched him, unsure of her next move.
"This isn't the coffee shop." He said to himself, but loud enough for Naomi to hear him.
"Of course it isn't!" she dropped the frying pan to her hip and joined the man in the living room. "This is my apartment. On the twelfth floor of the Hot Pit building. How did you come from my room?"
"Your apartment?" his dark eyes met her's again; Naomi still had a firm grasp on the handle. "I don't like it." He said, absolutely disgusted.
Naomi was taken back by his statement. She was tempted to hit him just for insulting her home. "I didn't ask if you liked it," she replied.
He looked back at her, slightly surprised by her reply. Instead of him raising his voice, he took a small step, flipped out his coat and placed his hands in his suit pockets; the inside of his coat was a deep red.
"I think you need to change it."
"I think I don't." The coffee pot was dripping the last of the fresh coffee and emitting a few puffs of steam behind the man. The two of them stared at each other, both unwilling to move or alter expressions. Naomi adjusted her arms to fold over her chest, the frying pan still in her hand. As the coffee pot ceased making the only noise in the apartment, an odd ringing sound erupted from Naomi's bedroom. She knew it was a phone ringing, but it wasn't her cell ringtone or landline.
With a quizzical look, she turned to the small hallway to her bedroom. "What's that?"
"It's for me." The man took long strides past her and quickly entered her bedroom.
"Hey, hey!" she followed him into the hallway. Once she turned the corner into her actual room, that's when she first saw it. The large blue box. It was a telephone police box, or so it said across the top. The man was standing next to the blue box as a small compartment was opened, relieving a phone. "That's the biggest mobile phone I've ever saw," she uttered under her breath. He held the phone to his ear as he leaned on the police box.
"Okay, okay. But do I have time to get that one girl, what's her name, Clara?" he spoke into the phone. Naomi took a step closer as there was an apparent pause in his conversation. Before she could say anything, he spoke again. "Alright. Alright. I'm coming. And don't move." He placed the phone back and closed the small compartment. He turned to her and gave a strange expression to her; she wasn't sure what it was or what it was regarding.
"Well, coffee will have to wait." he told her. He pushed open the right side of the police box to relieve a door. He stormed inside, leaving the door open slightly; either he forgot to close it, or he purposely left it open for her.
"Why are you going in-" she poked her head through the door and saw the last thing she expected to see; a large circular room with a console in the middle. It was softly lit from the buttons and levers on the console and off of the ceiling, that was oddly higher than her own ceiling. It was clearly bigger on the inside. As the man walked around the console that was built into the floor and ceiling, Naomi preoccupied herself with her newest discovery.
She glanced around the outside of the police box, even peeked around to the back of it. Even going as far as placing a hand firmly on the back, to make sure it wasn't an illusion. She circled back around and placed a foot inside the metal flooring, but kept her head out to check around the sides again. Naomi was completely confused and baffled by this mystery; so she quickly stepped entirely inside the police box and thoroughly scanned the room. The walls were curved outward and the ceiling attached to the console had three circular bans revolving in criss-cross directions. One more step, and her fate was sealed.
The man must have done something at the console to cause the door to slam behind her. Naomi turned around, frightened and took a few more defensive steps back. Frying pan still in hand, she faced the strange man and stormed to him.
"Open the door!" she demanded, apparently her presence was completely ignored by the man.
"How did you get in here?" he saw her as soon as she approached the console.
Stunned by the man's response, Naomi scowled at him. "You left the door open! Now open it! Let me out!"
A whoosping noise began to hum all all around the room. The place shook suddenly, the man wobbled and held onto a bar on the console. Naomi wasn't prepared for it and fell entirely on her butt. She lost her grip on the frying pan as she held onto the nearest thing she could grab, an oddly placed armchair. Her short nails dug into the cushion as the shaking continued for a short moment. As fast as it started, the shaking stopped and the humming had ceased as well. Naomi, holding her breath, took a deep breath and centered her body and mind. The room was still in tact, nothing fell and nothing appeared broken. Hair slightly mattered and in her eyes, Naomi was cautious standing up and finding her balance again.
The man had walked over to her without her noticing. She glanced up at him and saw that he was offering a hand for her. A bit weary, she grabbed it and he forced her upright; displaying a hidden strength she would had never guessed he possessed.
"What was that? An earthquake?" she asked.
"Nothing of the sort." he said, in a surprisingly calm tone.
Naomi eyed the man carefully, not fully sure of what had happened or what he meant. She knew one thing for sure, there was definitely more than meets the eye with his grey haired man.
"We aren't in my apartment anymore, are we?"
"No."
Slightly glaring at him now, Naomi placed the frying pan on the armchair and crossed her arms again. "Alright Eyebrows-" she nicknamed him for the first thing that stuck out in her mind when she first saw him, "- what's your name; where are we; and what's going on?"
"You're not asking the right questions," he told her, almost in a mimicking tone. He stepped away from her and walked to the door. "Ask the right questions." He took a short pause and looked at her, up and down. "Red hair." Apparently that was the first thing he had noticed about her. "Think!" he told her. "Think with that little human brain of your's!" He pointed at his head to indicate where the brain was.
Naomi was slightly offended, but she got the strange feeling that she was supposed to keep guessing the questions. She gave it another go.
"Who are you, and what are we doing?" she was uncertain about this questions and was less confident than her previous ones.
"Ahh, those questions." He pointed at her, with a small grin. "But you forgot one. C'mon! Think, Red Hair!" he practically begged her to ask the last question.
"Uh, I don't know!" she quickly stammered out. She racked her brain for another question, but nothing was coming to her.
"A hint." The man said, taking a small step towards her. "Not where. But…" he rolled his hands to insist Naomi to finish the sentence. She said the first thing that came to mind.
"When?" The man's face lit up, but his hand gestures told her that she hadn't quite asked the right question. "When are we?" she felt weird asking such a silly question.
"There it is!" he said, clearly he was getting frustrated by her lack of creative questions. "It's like leading a horse to water and forcing it to drink," he sounded a bit bitter, but relieved that she asked that question.
"How was I supposed to guess that one?" she felt a little offended at his last remark.
"You want answers, or not?" he disregarded her last question, clearly not wanting to play the question game anymore. He waved her closer to the door; she was cautious again, but didn't want to enrage the man anymore. She quickly walked over to him as he began to explain.
"We are in the year 40,083. Right in the heart of a galactic war between the Sontarans and the Rutans." Naomi was getting even more confused but decided not to ask anymore "wrong" questions. She was standing next to him as he finished explaining. He grabbed open the door and pulled it open. Naomi's mouth dropped as she looked out into what appeared to be space. Black space hung around everywhere her eyes fell upon with little white dots scattered across her vision. "What we're doing," he pointed outside of the police box and towards an enormous spherical ship that was drifting right in front of them, "Is sneaking onto that ship and retrieving some precious cargo." Naomi racked her hand through her messy hair, to clearly eye the slowly moving ship. She was speechless.
"I'm The Doctor. Not 'Eyebrows'."