This must be what rock bottom feels (and smells) like, Emma thought, as she dug half-heartedly through a dumpster. If it wasn't for the fact that those assholes of a group had taken her usual restaurant haunt, she wouldn't be in this situation. Sure, the leftover food wasn't five-star cooking, but at least it hasn't been marinated in cat vomit. Still, it was survival of the fittest out here and Emma has no one but herself to blame for being careless in her routine. She already had a few run-ins with certain groups who like to think they're the homeless equivalents of royalty on the streets but despite her slight frame, Emma had learnt to fight back. If high school had taught her anything, it was the fine art of preparing for group attacks and verbal abuse. Admittedly, it doesn't sting as bad when the attacks are made as a form of survival in lieu of a personal insult. However, she also knows when it's time to back off - five against one wasn't doing her any favours. Abandoning the dark alley as a lost cause lest she succumbs to Legionella, Emma decides to take another turn around the block, hoping to at least swipe some greasy chips and half-eaten burger from a random fast-food joint that littered the area.
It hadn't always been like this but after her thirteenth foster home, Emma swore she would not go back into the system. The Marshalls, a couple nudging retirement age, seemed nice enough at first. Emma even enjoyed helping Mrs Marshall in the garden, tending to the rose bed. That was until Mr Marshall got drunk one night and decided to use Emma as an ashtray. The second time, he came at her with a belt buckle. The third time, he was clocked in the head with a golf club by Emma before she flew out the front door with her meagre belongings in a bag slung over her shoulder. Enough was enough, she would lose herself in the streets and fend for herself until she comes of age... which admittedly is still two years away but at 16, she should be able to find a job. Granted, not many people would want a runaway in their shops but Emma would just have to fake it until she makes it. Yet humanity astounds her with its resistance to even allow her that. Gritting her teeth, Emma soldiers on.
With winter fast eclipsing autumn, Emma had found an abandoned lamp shop to shelter in, the 'for sale' sign obscured by artistic obscenities stuck to the grimy windows. The interior was decorated with a thick layer of dust amongst scattered lightbulbs, shades and assorted items. Clearly this wasn't a well-loved store, a feeling Emma can attest to. She claimed the disused office as her bedroom, a supply of moth-eaten blankets (courtesy of the Salvation Army donation bin) made up her nest of a bed. It wasn't the Hilton, but Emma had a roof over her head and no-one to bother her. To that end, she was mildly content.
She woke one night with a start to the shattering of glass and the unmistakable sound of the door being unlocked. Pushing away her dog-eared copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban that she had been reading before falling asleep, she grabbed the metal pipe from under the blankets and made her way towards the office door, careful to tread lightly. Before she even made it to the door, however, the intruder made an appearance. A man in office attire struggled towards one of the benches, his movements short and jerky before collapsing to the ground. His back arched as he convulsed in pain and Emma's eyes widened when a crackling white light streaked out of his eyes and mouth into the open space above where it raced around in a circle, bringing the lightbulbs to life and static electricity filled the air.
Emma stared, unsure of what to do before making a decision and quickly sliding out into the open, careful to stay low, and grabbed the man's limp form, attempting to drag him to the relative safety of the office. The electric light seem to have other ideas (oh god, she makes it sound like a sentient being) as it made a 'grab' for her, tendrils of electricity zipping towards her. With a yelp, Emma let go and fell back. This has got to be a nightmare, she reasoned, because there is no way this is actually happening. The electricity made another concerted effort for her and she was forced into a clumsy body roll, right under a desk. She tucked herself into a tight corner to prevent any sneak attacks.
Breathing hard and heart thumping a tattoo in her chest, she squeezed her eyes shut as if the lack of vision would make any of this any less surreal (or real) but the crackling of the electricity told her otherwise. It's no help if she falls apart, she tells herself as she took a deep breath to calm herself down and peered out from her minimal viewpoint, searching for an escape route of some kind. That's when she caught sight of a man with curly brown hair and kind blue eyes, wearing some sort of velvet coat. He grinned and waved at her. Blinking, she gave a hesitant wave back. He then held up what looked like two black canisters and gestured one each to the corner of the rooms. Emma frowned, wondering if this day could possibly get any weirder but before she can do anything, the man stood up and strode towards her, yelling up at the electricity and effectively depositing the canisters in front of her.
The next minute went by in a fast-forward daze as the man continued to yell, something about being a doctor, about Y2K, about the end of the world (seriously?) and about getting the electro-thingies in the corner. It wasn't until the man aimed a very un-subtle kick at her bench that Emma realised that the last bit was aimed at her. Then the man was off again, walking towards the other side of the room as he rambled on about giving it a choice and taking it back home. Emma grasped the canisters in her hand (they were much heavier than she thought) and ran towards the right corner, keeping low and ditching the object in its assumed position before doubling back to the opposite side. As soon as it hit the ground, there was a frizz of electrical current (more so than was currently present), a light connected the objects together (along with another two in the back corner) before it converged above at its obvious target.
Afterwards, when everything had died down and the police and ambulance (with the electrical host) had departed, the man had introduced himself to Emma as the Doctor ("Doctor of what?"), a time-travelling alien and what she just witnessed was a electrical energy alien of some sort from a planet that she couldn't pronounce and that it would have been responsible for bringing about the Y2K virus that everyone's harping on about. Emma was inclined to call him mental but after what she experienced, she wasn't sure what to believe in anymore, so she asked what he's planning to do with the electro-monster. He was quick to defend ("Oh no no, not a monster, just a misguided species.") and explained that he'll be returning said species back to its planet. Despite her trepidation, Emma must have looked intrigued because the Doctor invited her to come along ("Don't worry, the TARDIS can bring you back to the exact same time so that you can go straight back to your regular life. It's a time machine.")
("I have nothing to go back to anyway")
The quiet confession slipped her mouth before Emma could check herself and she quickly glanced at the strange man before her who was giving her a gentle contemplative look.
All of time and space.
It took a minute for Emma to process what was said, let alone what it meant. From the lost girl who had nothing, who couldn't hold onto anything even when she tried her hardest… to being offered the world. And really, there was nothing for it and no reason to refuse the invite, beyond the insanity. So Emma grabbed her bag and followed the Doctor into an alleyway where a blue phone booth was parked. A grin lit his face as he opened the door with a flourish, anticipation virtually vibrating off of him.
Emma stopped at the threshold, taking in her surroundings, knowing how much she resembled a floundering fish at the moment. She blinked once, twice, nope, everything was still there. She stuck her head out the door to confirm her suspicions before schooling her features and glancing back at the Doctor.
("So you know Mary Poppins then?")
("Actually, she was inspired by a fellow adventurous Time Lady who can't hold her liquor. We don't talk about her. She gives us a bad name.")
And despite the complete bizarreness of the situation (of which she is sure will be one of many), the warm glow, the comforting hum... it all felt like home.
A/N: So this has been rattling inside my head for a while and it took longer than I thought to get this out and even longer to put it up. It's been a while since I've written fanfics *cough*10 years*cough* so please forgive me if it's on the rusty side. Any thoughts or reviews would be highly welcomed :)