A/N: This is supposed to be a collection of five times Mrs Hughes encounters the Doctor. I wanted to wait until I finished each part before posting; unfortunately, it's been gathering dust on my hardrive since May. So far, I've written 2.5/5... I want to finish this because I'm really quite fond of it. Just don't go expecting regular updates or anything...

Thank you Hogwarts Duo for beta-ing this...6 months ago.

One

She first sees him when she is eleven year old and she is hiding at the top of a tree. She isn't hiding from anybody in particular, for she is hiding from the rest of the world.

From her vantage point among the thicket of leaves, she feels like she can see the whole world and anything that it might throw her way. She can see far across the fields and hills, and off to the distance is her home. She closes her eyes and she listens to the sounds the wind carries. Birds chirping, leaves rustling... By now she recognizes all of them and it brings her peace.

Except one.

A rhythmic wheezing, pulsating below her.

It gets louder and louder, and closer and closer and the wind around her starts to blow faster and faster, harder and harder, and she wants to look so badly. It's like something is calling her name, something is calling to the far reaches of her mind. It's something old, something familiar. But the more it pulls on her, the more she resists, and she can't bring herself to do it.

And then it's over. Almost like it never even happened.

She opens her eyes and slowly loosens her grip on the branch below her. She cranes her neck to see from where the strange sound originated. Her eyes dart across the landscape, and she can discern its origins. Then, from the corner of her eye, she sees a blue box materialize under her. She retreats further into the tree, taking refuge in the leaves, watching silently as a door creaks open.

A man steps out wearing a tweed jacket with a faint striped pattern, a checked shirt with a blue bow tie and braces. His black pants are too short for him; they are rolled up around the ankle, showing off his leather boots.

He takes a deep breath and grimaces. "Scotland? You brought me to Scotland?" he exclaims incredulously at the box. The door slams shut. The box almost seemed... annoyed.

She is so engrossed in the mysterious man that she doesn't notice a squirrel rushing past her. Startled, she jumps, and a stifled yelp escapes her lips. The man turns sharply on his heel, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a metal stick. He presses a button and points it directly at her.

"Come down at once!" he commands.

She sees the creases in his forehead and his set jaw and she knows that he is serious. In three quick motions she is down. She runs her hands over her skirts to smooth them out. She bites her lip to keep her nervousness from showing through.

He walks in a circle around her, waving his metal stick up and down. "Elevenish, brown hair, brown eyes..." he stops in front of her and puts the stick away. He leans down to her level and looks her straight in the eye. He has as distinct look that says that something is so close, just out of reach, but he can't quite grasp it. "What is your name?"

"Elsie Hughes."

She must have said something right because he grins stupidly and waves his arms hysterically. "Elsie Hughes? You're Elsie Hughes?" He jumps back and claps his hands. "Oh that's brilliant! The TARDIS probably sent me here to find you. Always taking me where I need to be..." During his rambling, he had made his way back to his box and was now stroking its side. Elsie averts her gaze, suddenly feeling as though she was intruding on a private moment. "I'm sorry Old Girl," he cooed. "I shouldn't have yelled at you."

He spun back around and pulled a photograph from his pocket. "I'm looking for a girl. Her name is Clara, sometimes Oswin, always Oswald. She looks like this." He shoves the coloured photograph in her face. "Probably. She might be older or younger..." he slaps his forehead. "I hadn't considered that."

Elsie remains frozen, watching the strange man rant and rave with a weary eye. He finally takes a breath and pauses. A dark cloud passes over his eyes, extinguishing the twinkle that had been there for a brief moment.

"You're scared of me."

She nods slowly.

"Why?"

"You are a madman with a box," she says carefully. "Anything can happen."

He considers this, and then laughs. It is hollow. The twinkle hadn't returned. "Oh Little Miss Elsie Hughes, always the pragmatist. You are going to do so many wonderful things."

She wrings her hands in front of her. "And how do you know that?"

"I'm a time traveling alien," he shrugs as if it should have been obvious.

"Oh."

He reaches across and pats her awkwardly on the head. "I must run now. I've got places to be, people to see. Universes to save... The usual."

And with that he snaps his fingers and the door swings open. He turns triumphantly on his heel and steps through the door. He turns back around and salutes her. "Until next time, Elsie Hughes."

As quickly and easily as it had appeared, the box vanishes. Elsie stands dumbfounded for minutes after, until she hears her mother's call being carried by wind.