This story is dedicated thus:
To my beloved sissy,
I hope you like this story, written especially for you, and I hope I am forgiven for unavoidably missing your birthday for band camp! 3, your sissy
Chapter One
A/N: I broke the Jane Austen rule! (See my other stories or my homepage for information about the Jane Austen rule!) I apologize. Then again, I kind of didn't. You'll see what I mean later. The real hero isn't introduced till the third chapter. Again, you'll get what I mean after chapter three. So please don't blame me for breaking the Jane Austen rule: I didn't!!
Just imagine it. Me! Normal run-of-the-mill everyday dime-a-dozen Molly Goodwin! The Doctor's companion! I had always wanted to travel, but I hadn't ever dreamed that I'd end up traveling all over time and space!
I met the Doctor one unfortunate June when I was eighteen. There was a clan of Orions who invaded my hometown of Newcastle on Tyne. The warlike aliens had rounded up the human population- all save my sister Charlotte, my brother Liam, a few friends and I- and were all ready to kill them off when there was a grating, whirring noise in the alley where we were hiding.
I looked around and saw a blue police box- the police box that had eventually become home- and saw the Doctor emerging. What a sight for sore eyes! Someone who could help save our families!
Of course, this rosy picture was at once burst when we realized that life is sometimes a tragedy. Charlotte, Liam and I were soon attending the funeral of our mother. Despite our high hopes, our mother had been killed by the Orions. Our father became useless instantly after her death, drinking himself into oblivion, so much so that he had to be half-carried to the funeral. Charlotte and Liam were just getting him to the car when I heard that grating, whirring noise behind me again. I froze, heart pounding. I thought I had imagined it. But sure enough, I turned and saw him again.
It was like an excerpt from a dream. He asked me to go with him. And I, being like a ship without an anchor after my mother's death, said yes. I packed my things and within an hour was off to God only knew where!
Charlotte told me, tearfully, that I'd regret it. That I would see sense and decide that my hasty decision was wrong and I'd come back. At that point, I didn't even care. I just wanted to get away from Newcastle on Tyne. And the Doctor was my escape route.
Luckily, I didn't regret my decision. Many are my fond memories of our travels. We took a week jumping around the Upsilon Andromedae system. (Tau Bootis was my particular favorite, though the Doctor preferred planet c for some strange reason known only to himself.) Our trip to the Andromeda galaxy was particularly memorable, being one of the most lovely sights I had ever seen. I loved the outing to Barcelona- it seemed to be a prerequisite for being a companion. In fact, I loved Barcelona so much that we made it a twice a year trip. And New Earth. Oh! it was amazing. New Shanghai, New Rio de Janeiro, New Paris. And (of course) New New York. We'd also been nearly everywhere on Earth. We'd landed in ancient Rome once, during the Julio-Claudian dynasty- boy, did my light dusting of Latin ever come in handy on that trip! Classical Greece, Scotland during the Wars for Independence, the American Civil War, Visigothic Hispania, France in the early Capet dynasty, early Christian Ireland, Tudor England, Wales under Roman occupation. We even had a grand banquet with Charlemagne! And of course, nearly everywhere we went had its share of aliens and strange creatures.
It was like something out of a dream! My run-of-the-mill life was turning into a sparkling existence spent all over time and space!
But of course, there was a catch. There is always a catch. There is no gain unless there is a good measure of pain.
I was not one for clichés. I was pretty much the anti-cliché. My layered blond-brown hair and blue eyes clashed with my un-prissy, tomboyish nature. I wore skinny jeans, listened to alternative music mixed with oldies and the odd smattering of bagpipes, liked the colors black, blue, purple and bright orange, and loved nothing more than being caught in a mob of playful dogs (especially ones with no noses from Barcelona!). And it gets stranger. I didn't have the troubled past that most heroines of those trashy novels have. You know, the drunk rapist of a dad, the dead mother, the abusive boyfriends and the drug or alcohol addictions. No, I had two wonderful, loving parents who stayed together and respected and loved one another as long as they were married. My mother, my sister and I were like best friends rather than a mother and her two daughters. My father, my brother and I liked to watch horror films together on Friday nights. I was never beaten, never neglected, and always loved equally with my brother and sister. I had only had two boyfriends. The first was too sweet to even put too much of a move on me, even kiss me chastely on the lips, until we'd been dating two months. And the second was such a gentleman that he never called after nine at night and always walked me home after lectures. I never felt tempted by drugs or alcohol (save the occasional glass of champagne at a wedding or something special like that) because I hadn't ever had the "tortured, dark, troubling" past that all drama queens claimed to have. Now, I'd say that is pretty anti-archetypal, pretty anti-stereotypical, and decidedly anti-cliché. I can proudly say that I have never quite fit in anywhere. But naturally, the catch.
I fell in love with the Doctor. Yes! It's a shame, but I did. It wasn't so obvious at first. I just thought I had picked the world's best traveling partner. Don't get me wrong- I know for a fact that I did pick the world's best traveling partner- actually, as the Doctor would correct me, the universe's best traveling partner. Little did I know that I'd come to love him the way I did! His half-cocked nature amused me to no end. It fit perfectly with my own enthusiastic temperament. I ended up so swamped that I actually grinned when he grinned simply because the muscles in my face didn't listen to my brain anymore. Now, how pathetic is that? His opinion (second to my own- I can at least claim that I never lost my sense of self while in love!) was my guide. I couldn't imagine a more welcome sight than his manic grin, messy brown hair, suit and converse. And for two of my three years as his companion I muddled along helplessly smitten with him.
Apart from that little cliché, it all sounds perfect, right? Like something out of an old film where the troubled girl finally finds the courage to find a true home with someone who seemed an unlikely candidate for a friend. All I was missing was that part where the music swells and the couple finally gets in for a good snog, right? Well, if you think so, tell me something:
Why was I standing there terrified at the sight of my Doctor laying half-dead on the TARDIS floor?!