"You'll never get anywhere in life" my parents always told me, and for a long time I believed. Life isn't easy when you live in the shadow of your top-of-his-class Havard graduate brother who made perfect grades and always did as he was told. I guess I just a little too creative for my college-professor parents. They never understood my love of music, and they never really understood me, but that makes sense, seeing that they wanted a perfect little family, and I, well, wasn't made for that. My name is Jessica Lewis, I am twenty one years of age and I am currently earning my degree in music education as the Juilliard school of music, but only because I promised my parents I wouldn't get into any forms of trouble. If I only knew then that I would end up breaking that promise.

"One and-a two-e three four," I muttered while walking down the streets of beautiful New York City. I got no strange looks from any passerby, but neither do men dressed in Elmo suits. My fingers danced along their invisible flute as I mentally practiced a piece that I hoped one day to perform, but who knew if I would, the music did seem a bit too easy for my level of skill. I continued down the street, looking for the lights of Times Square to come into view. It was a long walk through the cold to get there, but just standing in the square surrounded by all the lights was worth every minute of the cold, and lucky for me, I could have this view whenever I felt up for a walk. That's when I first saw it, a blue police box, just standing on the sidewalk. Thought it was a little strange to have a police box in New York, but when I looked back it was gone like it was never there. The cold must have made me see things, a blue box can't simply disappear.

"Hello," said an enthusiastic voice from behind me, giving me enough of a shock to jump a good amount. I turn and faced the owner of the voice, a young, yet tall man with brown hair combed over to one side. Something about him seemed different, and really out of place, other than his old, grandfather like clothes. "Sorry, did I scare you?" he asked once I met his face.

"Yea, a bit," I replied, not sure what to make of the young man in old clothes, "Can I help you?"

"Uh. Actually, yes," he replied, seeming shocked by my answer, "Sorry, again, most people tell me to bug off, well not literally, I'm just, paraphrasing. You're not a native New Yorker, are you?"

"How'd you tell? My slurred speech? My hospitality? My addiction to sweet tea? Nevermind the last one, you aren't from around either, right?"

"Yes," he responded, his accent more noticeable with each word he spoke. It for sure was a British accent, but the region was completely unknown to me.

"So," I started, trying to make the conversation less awkward than it was,"you needed help with something?"

"Oh! Yes! I nearly forgot," he exclaimed," Have you seen a blue box?"

"Sorry? A blue what?"

"Blue box, tall, light on top, says police,"

"Like a blue police box?"

"Yes! Exactly like a police box!"

"I actually saw one just a few minutes ago, but when I looked back it was gone," I stated, pointing in the direction in which I saw the box.

"No, no, no! Not again! She hates New York City, always something causing trouble, and don't even get me started on April 4, 1938!" he babbled, walking off in direction I pointed.

"I'm sorry, what?" I questioned, following the man,

"Wibbly, wobbly, confusy-woozy."

"You okay?"

"Yea, completely alright," he said, spinning around on his heel and stopping to look at me face to face. "I'm the Doctor, by the way, and something has happened to my TARDIS."

"The Doctor?"

"Yea, the Doctor,"

"Is that your name, or just a title in place of your name?"

"Uh, both, in a way, yea."

"Kinda like in Harry Potter? You know how Voldemort had a name but no one called him by it because their fear for him, and also because it was tabooed,"

He stopped to think about what I said, "Actually, yea, a lot like that. I like you, uh, what's your name?"

"Jessica Lewis,"

"I like you Jessica Lewis," he turned again, continuing to walk in the direction of the vanished police box.

We walked for a few minutes in silence, stopping a few minutes when the Doctor would claim that he "heard something" and quickly follow the sound. I walked behind him as he followed the sound, my ears still not hearing anything outside the city's usual sphere of chaos, but after twenty minutes of walking, I finally heard the sound he was speaking of. It sounded like a cross between the engines of a jet plane and a sports car, but still held a musical resonance.

"If people call by a title," I finally questioned, "does that mean you're feared?"

"Yes, it does mean I'm feared," he answered with a dark tone.

"Should I be afraid?"

"Not really, unless you plan to commit mass genocide or something similar."

"Oh, well I don't think I'd ever do that, kinda put of my comfort zone,"

"Good thing too, Jessica Lewis," he spoke, turning and smiling at me, "because I would hate to have someone like you as an enemy." He then turned back in the direction of the noise.

On the the sidewalk, just across the street, sat the blue police box I has seen earlier that day. I stared at the box, not noticing the Doctor run across the street to it.

"Doctor?!" I cried, running after him, carefully dodging the few cars navigating the streets, "What the hell are you doing? It's just a box!"

"It's my box! And I'm not letting it get away from me" he shouted in return.

"You're completely mad!"

"Wow, very creative," he replied the moment he reached the box, opening the doors to peek inside. "You want to see inside?"

"Why would I want to step inside a tiny cramped box?"

"Just go inside."