Lost in Starry Skies

AN: co-written with emptyvoices; beta'd by myself

Disclaimer: Neither of us own Doctor Who, Star Trek, nor Terminator ; however, Nova and Sara are both thoroughly ours

Chapter 01

Nova smiled to herself victoriously as she put the last finishing touches on her new book and sent it off to her publisher. Who would have thought that her dreams could make money? Not much money, admittedly, but enough to get her through a college degree without resorting to student loans.

She stretched as she got out of her office chair, shut off the lights, and began to make her way to her warm bed that just waited for her. Nova smiled to herself in satisfaction at her accomplishment; getting the manuscript delivered over a week earlier than expected instead of a month late was a new and decidedly happy feeling. Wiggling into her favorite light blue, long, winter nightgown, with the Doctor's blue police box TARDIS she had personally embroidered onto the left shoulder, she slid under the covers and reached out to click off her bedside lamp, wondering what her dreams had in store for her tonight.

As she settled down, she absently fingered her new necklace. Her grandfather had given it to her the week before, making her give her solemn promise to never take it off, not even to shower or sleep. He had looked so serious, fervent, and almost desperate that she had agreed. It had been an odd visit. Her grandfather had apparently just learned of her writing and been very concerned. Though she couldn't quite understand why, she didn't protest when he had gifted her with the accessory.

It was a beautiful golden pendant with a concentric circle design, lines going off at angles. Nova found it incredibly sweet that, even though her favorite grandparent thought it was a bad idea to write her books, he had given her a treasure based on them. It was clearly a Gallifreyan design; a crest of one of the Great Houses. She wondered when he had gotten into her notes to make such a precious and perfect gift.

She became aware that most people dreamed about different things at night in high school when she made her first friend. A conversation about dreams initiated a frantic research session on dream interpretation and meaning, but nothing Nova found was similar to her situation.

Nova had been dreaming of Time Lords, and the Doctor in particular, for as long as she could remember. She never dreamed of anything else. She had seen him grow up, attend the prestigious Time Lord Academy, take his new name…she had seen so much of his life. Logically, she knew that at over a thousand years old she couldn't have possibly watched all of his life, but Nova felt confident she had seen the major plot developments. Enough adventures for a whole series of books. Dozens upon dozens.

It had never really occurred to her until an assignment in Creative Writing how much other people might find her dreams intriguing and entertaining. So, encouraged by her teacher and her friends, who asked her every morning about the previous night's exploits, Nova diligently worked out a favorite adventure of her Doctor and submitted it to the major publishing companies. One year later, she had a deal with Penguin Publishing for another three novels.

Nova yawned, turned over, and felt her mind slip away from reality, into the world of the Doctor. At least half the time, she arrived in the console room of the TARDIS, considering that was where the Doctor spent most of his waking hours while his companions slept between adventures. This occasion was no different.

She blinked in confusion at the Doctor. This was a version she had seen before – she'd seen them all at one point or another, for though she dreamt of him every night it was never in chronological order – but not quite this early she thought. Though perhaps 'early' wasn't the right word. His face looked so open and vulnerable while he spoke. Intensely emotional. He was using the holographic interface to project his image somewhere and the outside monitor screen to see where the projection was directed. It was when she heard Rose's voice that she understood.

Her poor Doctor. To fall in love with a human, knowing all the time that she would die in a mere handful of years. There was a reason it was practically forbidden on Gallifrey. The only way it would work was if the Time Lord made themselves human with the Chameleon Arch, which would change their mental pathways and no longer be who they were. Not to mention it took centuries in the Academy to become a Time Lord…to throw it all away was unthinkable to most. If she counted, a bare handful had done it anyway, and Nova would have fingers left over.

Nova leaned against the railing of the TARDIS, letting the Doctor have his moment with his human. From his conversation it quickly became obvious this would be their last conversation. Rose had been caught in another dimension, from which there was no returning. The Time Lords had closed off the dimensions near the beginning of the Last Time War. The only way to open them again had been lost on Gallifrey.

Her heart clenched in sympathy as the man before her was unable to complete his sentence, the sun he had been using as a power source used up. Just a couple of seconds more and he would have said those three little words…words so precious and powerful they had started wars and leveled civilizations.

Nova felt the TARDIS give her a mental embrace, now that her attention wasn't on connecting with a sun and a dimension while making sure nothing imploded. Nova smiled in response and returned the telepathic hug. She spoke aloud to the ship, like she had done every time previous, "Hello old girl. Did you miss me?"

It was apparently well-timed, because a woman in a wedding dress showed up at that precise moment. The Doctor to spun around, his face a mask of shock, disbelief and surprise. "What?"

Nova smiled at the hilarity of the moment with the apparent new companion: Donna Noble. She'd seen her before in past dreams of future events. She watched the by-play for several long minutes, just sitting at the entrance to the corridor that led to the rest of the TARDIS. She was out of the way in such a position, but still able to see and listen to the goings-on of the console room where the Doctor spent most of his time. She again spoke to the ship, "It was a good idea, bringing her here. It'll take his mind off of his human for a little bit. Give him time to grieve." She absently petted the wall as she spoke.

"Who are you?" the Doctor's voice cut in right after she finished speaking. He was looking right at her! She took a step backwards, suddenly afraid. This had never happened before!

No one had ever seen her. Could never hear her. She could barely touch anything, only the TARDIS.

"You—" she said softly, disbelievingly.

"How did you get on my TARDIS?" He demanded. One woman showing up out of the blue wasn't enough? Now there were two! And one was in a nightgown? with his TARDIS stitched on it! His eyes narrowed dangerously in thought at the obviously hand-crafted little embroidered design.

"You can see me?"

"Yes!" He glanced at his screen, running around his console pushing buttons, trying to figure out what had occurred this time. It all came out normal and he cursed vehemently in Gallifreyan.

She took another step back, unsure what to do. In all the years she had dreamed of the Doctor, this had never happened. She didn't know what to do. Thus she did what she usually did: spoke her inner thoughts aloud. "You shouldn't say such things, you know. It's rude. I'm not bat-winged. Besides, your mother would be cross." His expression darkened and she fidgeted. This was so strange! Such a strange dream. Decidedly her strangest.

Nova fingered her new necklace, pulling it from under her nightgown in the process. She wanted the comfort it brought, thinking of her grandfather. It was interesting. Her grandfather had married and had one son. Her father had only one child. So, Nova was the only grandchild her grandfather had, and he doted on her shamelessly. She had spent many summers with him, the two of them speaking of her dreams. He had taught her about electronics, physics, and chemistry. He had worked for many years as the lead scientist for some company and when Nova showed her aptitude for math at around fourteen, he had relished teaching her all that he knew. He never needed to use a book as reference either, all of it coming from memory. Out of all her ancestors, he was her favorite. He spoke about things skipping generations and she got the best of himself. It made her feel special, wanted.

He was the one who understood her the most and accepted her just as she was.

Now, fingering her new gift, she saw the Doctor's expression when he saw it catch the light and thus his attention. Emotions ran through his eyes and across his face. She had never seen so many in such a short amount of time, not on him. He was usually excellent at hiding his thoughts. This was getting too much. She turned tail and ran.

She heard him call after her, belatedly yelling for her to wait, that he wouldn't hurt her. She also heard the newest companion yell at the top of her lungs to forget about the girl and get her to a church. Nova couldn't blame her, if the outfit was anything to go by the woman had been in the middle of her own wedding.

When she stopped running, she had made her way to the library. It was her favorite place on the TARDIS…and was currently occupied?

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

"It just figures that today the Underground would be on strike." Jessica threw the map of the tube station back into her carry-on bag. Sara rubbed her forehead and sighed in agreement.

They had flown in just yesterday to Heathrow Airport and being as jet lagged as they were, had resigned themselves to a four hour nap followed by a dinner of fish and chips in a nearby pub. Despite England's reputation for having originated the dish, Sara had found the meal rather unappetizing. To her, in that particular pub it was tasteless. I need to get a better recommendation.

The next morning, upon asking the concierge of the hotel for directions to the nearest Underground station, they were informed that the tube workers went on a planned strike that would last for the full day.

They were advised to use the red double decker buses as a means to reach the Tower. Upon looking outside, the task seemed daunting. The road was virtually gridlocked. Sara was starting to lose her determination. She ran her hand through her damp brown hair and looked at the overcast sky with a frown. It was already starting to drizzle.

Sara pondered their options wondering what choice they actually had. Spend a day inside the hotel? That would be an extravagant waste of a day spent in a considerably tiny room. Jessica would have no patience for that. Vacation days were hard to come by and the money had been a college graduation gift from her family. She had interned throughout college and was fortunate enough to be offered a staff position when she achieved her degree, so her parent's reward was forced to wait for a year so she could accrue enough time off. She kept telling herself, it was worth it; earning some seniority before taking any leisure time. Now she had her public relations degree and some security. It indeed was a good feeling to have that form of independence and freedom. The sensation of having a place that was her own was nearly euphoric. She was out of her parent's financial confinement living freely, making her own choices.

Although, this trip was one she had long looked forward to, a year had passed since she had seen her best friend who had been on deployment for nine months in Iraq and their conversation had been awkward. Sara was uncertain how the duration of time in a country of conflict would affect Jessica. It had been painful, the many nights Sara had spent hoping that Jessica would return unharmed. She could certainly imagine the worse. Within her community, a boy lost his life in a convoy truck that ran over a mine and therefore exploded. The whole town entered a state of perpetual mourning. He had even gone to the same high school with her although she couldn't say she had known him well but the thought of a similar event happening to Jessica was enough to instill fear in Sara night after night.

She swallowed a lump in her throat at the thought. It's over now.

"You ok?" Jessica asked.

Sara nodded, blinking rapidly as she shuttled the memory to the depths of her mind. "Yep, no problem. Just annoyed." She sighed. "Maybe the strikers saw us coming."

"That would be a change." Jessica gestured towards the buses. "Oh well. It will be an adventure anyway."

Sara smiled. "Sure. But you know, it's going to take us more than an hour to get there with this mess."

"You're right. I need coffee. Lots of coffee. You want any?"

"Jess, you know I don't drink that stuff."

Jessica laughed. "Oh yeah. You really should have been born here. You are a tea drinker through and through."

"Not always." Sara glanced at her watch. "Better hurry. The tower is only open for six hours today."

It turned out Sara was wrong. It took nearly two hours to get to the tower with the bus moving at a crawl. When they were dropped them off a quarter mile away they were forced to walk the rest of the way. Considering the speed of which they had been walking, Sara wondered whether they might have made better time on foot than by bus. Still, this destination was something she considered to be the highlight of their trip.

It had been worth every moment of the journey. Sara was enraptured by British history and hearing the many stories from the Beefeater was both informative and comical. When he recited the story of Anne Boleyn he turned to her and took her hand in parody mimic of Henry VIII, "I promise to love you for the rest of...your life." The audience burst out laughing in response to the gallows humor.

After the tour, they spent time wandering through Tower Square in silence. Jessica was snapping pictures of the stained glass of St. Peter ad Vincula while Sara examined the plastic mold of the block that was used to execute martyrs and traitors alike. She could never imagine what it must have been like to be Anne Boleyn or Jane Grey to make that final walk to the execution spot with crowds either cheering on the executioner or mourning the tragic injustice of the sentence.

A cold breeze seemed to ripple right through her and she shivered. Waving to Jessica, she pointed inside the actual entrance to the building that housed the dungeons, indicating her destination to her friend. Jessica beckoned to her in response in affirmation. Sara made her way down the circular walkway, feeling a distinct chill in the air as the area seemed to darken dramatically. She ended up in a room that was empty at the moment. The only light provided by a dim light bulb, which highlighted some etchings on the wall. Sara went around touching the etchings gently in fascination. This was history. Unabridged history. Prisoners made markings on the wall to indicate their time spent in the tower. Sometimes they even designed pictures or poetry. Fascinated, Sara went to see if she could find any writings from the Lady Jane Grey or Anne Boleyn.

She approached one interesting drawing that stood apart from the others. A series of numbers and mathematical sequences. She brushed her hand over those and yelped when she felt an electrical discharge. What the..?

She brushed her hands on her jacket, shaking it off as static electricity and tried touching the symbols again. This time she noticed a deepening crack in the area. She could have sworn it wasn't there before and she felt a churning deep in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly light started to seep through the crevice. Immediately, she tried to pull her hand away however the instant she did, her hand remained attached to the area. "What the hell?" She muttered. She examined the surface wondering if she had managed to put her fingers on any gum residue. There were people who had no sense of historical preservation and would dispose of their trash anywhere. She scowled as her examination couldn't find anything that would cause such a reaction. She attempted to yank her hand away again. No success.

"Jessica?" Her call echoed in the empty room. Perhaps her friend could assist in this embarrassing predicament. Silence.

She gritted her teeth and used her other hand to try to detach herself. The force that held her limb in place like a vise suddenly yanked her forward much like that of a magnet. This time, she screamed. The wall in front of her rushed at her. She felt a surge of pain as her head made contact with the wall and darkness descended.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Sara woke with a spectacular headache on the ground. She was disoriented and at the same time perpetually dizzy. A peculiar buzzing sound emanated inside her ears. She was lying on a carpet. Had she tripped? Was this part of the tour? Groaning, she pushed herself up onto her knees. Where was Jessica? Her vision blurred. Bookshelves. A myriad of them. It looked like….

"A library." She took a deep breath. They weren't planning to see any libraries today although this one looked exceedingly familiar. They were… Then she remembered. The Tower of London. The crack in the wall. Being drawn towards it. Light radiating from it. "No…I must be…" She rubbed her forehead, wincing in pain. She knew visual disturbances and hallucinations would occur if she hit her head somehow. But where was Jessica? If they had gotten separated…

Pushing herself to her feet, she stumbled near the bookshelves. Bumping into one, two glass vials splattered to the floor. Vapors came out and at the same time whispers in a language that was foreign but so very familiar at the same time. She could almost make out the words if she—

The door suddenly opened, and a barefoot girl came running inside looking distinctly terrified in a nightgown with a blue TARDIS sewn directly on the front. Sara pressed her hand against the shelving, squinting at her. What happened to her clothes? She started to ponder if some act of terrorism happened in London that was more widespread. She had heard warnings or alerts on threat levels.

"Can you see me?" The girl's question had Sara looking at her, puzzled. Her accent was American. Probably a tourist like herself. "You're not…I haven't seen you before…" She was shaking her head.

"Probably, since we've never met." Sara took a deep breath. "Has there been an attack? Were you staying at a hotel?" She grimaced briefly at the TARDIS sewn into the blue fabric. She had been forced into marathon viewings of Doctor Who at the persuasion of her friends. She looked around again. Now she realized the familiarity. This library looked very much like the one on the show. Maybe the set designer had based their concept on an actual standing library in London, but Sara only pressed her lips together in momentary annoyance. "My friend. She was traveling with me. Did you see another girl nearby? Darker hair? My height?"

The girl only looked at her in confusion. "She's not here. This was… It should be a dream. The Doctor shouldn't be able to see me."

"The Doctor?" Sara repeated. "What? As in Doctor Who? The show with the TARDIS time machine?" She paused, taking in the other's demeanor. "You can't be serious. That's—"

The door suddenly opened as the Doctor himself ran through the doors stopping short when he took in Sara's presence. She simply stared at him, dumbfounded. "David Tennant." She managed, only to earn stares both.

"Who?" They asked.

"You're…" Was this a joke? She was utterly bewildered in a place that didn't make the slightest bit of sense. Maybe the girl was right. It was a dream. Or a nightmare. One disturbingly twisted nightmare.

"I'm not here to hurt either of you." His voice was calm. Even.

The auburn-haired woman at her side tensed even more if that was possible, but Sara already reacted, running out the opposite door. "Jessica?" She fled down a corridor, not even wanting to admit where the familiarity of the hallway was attributed from. "Jessica, where are you?!" Her voice was filled with panic. "I—"

She slammed directly into someone else and her eyes widened. "Donna." She said in reflex to the redhead in front of her who was looking around the console room in fury.

"And who are you?" Donna demanded. "Another kidnapper I suppose!"