Chapter One

Day 94.

Dear diary,

They've been asking me questions again. I don't answer, of course; all I do is sit there with a blank expression and pretend to not understand. I think they see through my façade… after all, it has been three months. They've most likely learned to read me like a book. I worry for Bridget. I haven't seen her in two days, and I wonder what they've done to my poor little sister. Sometimes I swear that I hear her screaming – I doubt they would hurt her since she has never done anything wrong, (unlike me) but the thought that it's possible scares me. She's probably told them everything, from how long we've been on the run to those weird symbols she's been seeing. I doubt they'd believe her if she said that, anyway; they would probably just bring in a physiatrist to convince her that she's subconsciously learned Japanese or something stupid like that. Then they'd give her a cookie and let her take a nap, and they'd say that it's time to see "the bitch". They call me that, I know they do. I can't say that I'm mad, though; it's a pretty accurate description and besides, the more they hate me, the better. What I don't get, though, is why they keep sending in different people to interrogate me. It's never the same person twice; the first time it's Sally and the next time it's Joe, then it's Barbara or Billy. I guess it's because everyone that has met me is afraid of me, which isn't that bad of a thought. I want them to be afraid of me so that they can just leave me alone already.

- Arlie Oswald

Charlie signed her name with a flourish at the bottom of the page. She pursed her lips together and closed her journal, tucking it underneath her pillow for safekeeping. UNIT had given her the journal to record her daily thoughts as a form of them figuring out what made the girl tick, but she quickly insisted that she had lost it and used it as a form of bashing the organization without letting them know.

Three months… three damn months of being stuck in this place. The agents that occasionally came in to check on her asserted that the white-walled examination room she had gotten stuck in was a "lovely place," and that she should be glad that she got put into a room that pleasant. However, Charlie couldn't help but wonder if at one point these perfect walls had been splattered with the blood of the innocent; if someone had ever been dissected slowly and painfully in this very room. She shivered at the thought and, terrified, wondered if her fate would be the same.

What was UNIT, anyway? She had picked up bits and pieces about it by hearing the hushed conversations of its employees, but not enough to fully grasp the concept of the organization. She knew it had something to do with outer space, but then why were they holding her and her sister under observation? She wasn't an alien… at least, she didn't think so. She hadn't sprouted any antennas and hadn't turned green like the aliens she had heard about in cartoons – her sister certainly hadn't, otherwise she would've heard it from the people who interrogated her. So why them?

From what she understood, UNIT was there to investigate strange, possibly paranormal or alien threats to the earth and to exterminate these threats if necessary. She had overheard two men discussing whether "further interrogation tactics" should be used on the "possible threat in room 214" (her room), but she had managed to convince herself that there was another room in the building that had the same number and that they were not speaking of her. Was Charlie a threat, though?

Sure, during her time living on the street with Bridget she mastered the art of self-defense and fought or stole from people when necessary, but Charlie was not a worldwide threat. She didn't even have the heart to let a stray cat starve, so how could she be cruel enough to do something that jeopardized the safety of the earth? It just didn't make sense for them to be bothering her so much when she hadn't done anything at all.

There was a knock at the door. Charlie whirled around, a bit too caught up in her muddled thoughts to realize what was happening. It took her a second to register what had occurred and call – a bit grouchily, if one might add, "What do you want? I'm not fessing up anytime soon and I'm not hungry." The door swung open, and Charlie huffed. 'So much for making them leave me alone,' she thought.

A young woman wearing the UNIT uniform entered the room – at least, Charlie guessed that it was a woman judging by her frame. Her face was concealed by a medical mask; all but her dark brown eyes was unseen. Charlie swallowed. Perhaps this woman was here to run more tests on her. However, she did not come up to Charlie and begin stabbing her with those needles that she hated oh-so-much. She just kind of stood there with a shocked expression – eyes wide, one hand over her heart and the other one over her covered mouth, and leaning up against the wall like she was about to pass out. The door slammed closed behind her, but she didn't move.

Charlie shifted back and forth uncomfortably on her cot. "Um…" She studied the woman cautiously, visibly confused. "Are you alright?" When she did not receive an answer, she wrung her hands nervously and stood up. This woman was acting very strange, and she wasn't sure if she liked that.

Charlie stepped forward. Her heart was racing wildly in her chest. "A… are you here to take my blood or something?" she asked, hoping for a response. A silence was beginning to envelop the room, but Charlie could've sworn that her visitor was almost… crying?

She waited for what felt like forever for a response. Her visitor heaved a shaky sigh, grabbing Charlie's wrists with a strong grip and sitting her down. "Listen to me, Charlie," the woman warned as she glanced up at a security camera that sat in the far corner of the room, "don't act suspicious." Charlie was unsure of what she meant by that statement - or how she knew her name, for that matter - but didn't argue. The woman's tone was firm; too firm for Charlie to feel like this was any less than a very serious matter.

She sat down so her back was to the camera and began messing with the locator device strapped onto Charlie's wrist. Charlie winced but allowed her to continue. Whoever this girl was, she was trying to help her.

"Who are you?" Charlie whispered in a small voice, sounding much more like a little girl than an eighteen-year-old that had lived on the run for most of her life.

Her rescuer's dark eyes met hers, and for a second she thought that she wasn't going to answer because of the obvious hesitation she gave. Then her lips parted, and a barely audible "Clara," escaped them. She continued to work on Charlie's locator – which fell apart reasonably quickly. Charlie took Clara's hand in hers; she squeezed it tightly. "Thank you," she mouthed thankfully. Her eyes crinkled into a smile.

Clara squeezed her hand back and helped her up. She didn't say "You're welcome," as she figured that she didn't need to. Helping her out was quite enough. She took her hand and led her out the door, but before they could leave she took out a strange device and pointed it at the camera. It made a frying noise and turned off.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "What is that thing?" she asked, gesturing at the curious device that Clara held in her hand. Clara placed it in the inside pocket of her jacket and said simply, "Sonic screwdriver thingy majig. I don't really get it yet, so I can't really explain how it works. But you'll see stranger things where we're headed, I can guarantee it, so don't be too surprised." Charlie opened her mouth to ask more but thought better of it. Instead, she settled on a basic question: "Where are we going, anyway?"

Clara suddenly stopped in the middle of the hallway and began towards a big blue box that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Charlie's mouth was set agape. Before she could question what this peculiar thing was, however, she was greeted by the door suddenly being pulled open and a tall, handsome man with a nice-looking bowtie appearing in the doorway.

His eyebrows raised as he looked Charlie up and down; she blushed and felt like shrinking back into a corner. She didn't like it when people looked at her... especially since she looked like complete and utter crap at the moment. And it didn't help that she found this man kind of attractive, either.

Suddenly red lights began flashing through the hallway ('Wow, cliché much?' thought Charlie disapprovingly), and yells were heard from not too far away. Charlie didn't have to be in on all the weird stuff that was going on to know that they had gotten caught - and if they weren't careful, Charlie would be captured and stuck in her dreaded little room yet again. However, the two people she stood beside seemed to be holding some sort of silent conversation amongst themselves and were very caught up in it. Charlie put a hand on her hip and glanced back worriedly at the rest of the hallway. Uniformed men were beginning to run towards them, shouting at each other to "catch the damn girl!" She swallowed.

"Um... I don't mean to be rude or anything to the people that are saving me, but we need to get the hell out of here before those guys reach us," she warned, gesturing at the people who were starting to reach them. Clara blinked. The man with the box blinked too, but it wasn't until the men were feet away that he finally snapped back to reality and began to process what was occurring.

"Oh! Yes! Getting out of here, that's a good idea!" he said.

"You!" Charlie barely had enough time to react before the man yanked her inside - a bit roughly, she noted, as she winced when he did it. She didn't challenge his reasons, though, as she was sure that he had some good ones. After all, it seemed like he was with Clara; Charlie didn't quite know her, but she felt like she should trust the girl. "And you!" Bowtie Man, as Charlie began to subconsciously call him, pulled Clara by the jacket collar into safety and slammed the door shut just as one of the UNIT men was about to get inside.

"Phew," Clara breathed, leaning up against the door of the structure. Charlie did the same. The man, however, seemed completely unaffected by what had just occurred (and the constant pounding and yelling that was heard from outside that Charlie was sure to break the entire thing) and was running around what Charlie assumed to be the - wait... control console? of the box. Was this thing an actual functioning, moving machine? Well, that would explain why it had just appeared so suddenly. Still... a moving blue box? Charlie was beginning to think that UNIT had given her loopy meds and she was just having a really f'ed up dream. That would've made much more sense than the stuff she was seeing now.

The pounding stopped and Charlie immediately suspected that UNIT had broken down the door and were about to catch her to take her back, but when she faced the door, she came to a realization. Sure, the door was still up and looked perfectly unscathed, but there was something different, something... crazy.

Her heart stopped. "No, no, no, this is impossible. There's no way that-" she faltered, completely out of breath. "It's dark out there. Why is it dark?"

The man, whom Charlie was beginning to assume was some sort of madman that drove around in a "police box", (she had read that on the door but had no idea what it meant) smirked and stepped over to where she stood. Then he suddenly pushed the door open and Charlie let out a gasp.

They were in space. Space! How the hell had they gotten in space?! No, no, no, that was totally and utterly impossible. They couldn't have been in space... but they were, weren't they?

Charlie looked at the man with an expression of horror and awe. "S...space?" was all that escaped her lips. The man nodded wordlessly. She thought she was about to pass out. Clara noticed her wooziness and grasped one of her shoulders, shooting the man a look. "Close the door before she passes out and falls out the door," she ordered, which earned her a pout from him.

"She won't fall out, Clara," he insisted, "I've adjusted the gravity so that nothing can-"

"Oy! Just do it, Einstein!" she exclaimed. He sighed but gave in to her request. Charlie slunk down the the floor, feeling her heart race. She felt like she could barely breathe. How was this even possible? A big, blue police box that travels through space? The thought was insane.

"I... I..." Charlie swallowed. She couldn't even make a simple sentence. She glanced up at the pair that stood before her; Clara had a look of worry, while Bowtie Man just looked like he was excitedly anticipating her reaction. She cleared her throat. A couple seconds later, when she felt like she was sort of back to normal, she hoisted herself up from the ground and dusted herself off.

She crossed her arms and managed a weak smile. "Well, the first thing I'll say is that it's smaller on the outside."

A.N. What do you guys think? I worked pretty hard on this and figured that the idea was pretty unique. Plus, I figured that Clara should be the one to rescue her because of a certain thing that's holding the Doctor up, hehe. :) I know this chapter is really short, but I wanted to leave it at a kinda cliffhanger, since I feel it would be more interesting that way.

Anyway, comment and let me know how you like it!