When Stars Aline

by SouffleGirl1313

Its normal, a day in and day out thing. London's as dreary and evasive as always, shifting with the shadows that surround it, but she does not care. She had seen all of time and space, and one day simply turning on the telly renders the impossible, very, very possible...it can't be, her sanity reasons, ah, but it is...AU Wholock

1. Chapter 1

The names SouffleGirl, and feels are the game, enjoy! ;D

Again. That is the only thought that registers through her already stunned mind, the one that is having trouble comprehending little to nothing, with the cold cup of tea long abandoned on her coffee table, and the television screen long ago faded black. This morning the most innocent of gestures led to the fall, the fall of her sanity, just like that bloke she had heard about a couple of days ago who jumped off a building nearby. What drove him mad? She wondered silently to herself. But that was a distraction, a distraction from the thoughts she all too much wanted to ignore. She had heard the name in passing, once or twice from a friend. An actor, a good-looking actor at that rate too, they had mentioned but nothing that registered as important in her lately preoccupied mind.

Then she picks up the morning paper outside one day, hastily flipping through it, in hopes of a job opening, she sees a small, picture less article with his name, stating that he was recently up for some prestigious award. She had sighed and thought nothing of it, a little annoyed if anything. All these big stars and their awards, what is that compared to galaxies and other worlds and- no. she wouldn't think it, not even in her head. The name she longed to hear, dreamed to say and answer to, was gone, and she didn't need yet another reminded of that. Weeks pass and she hears about the actor again, several times actually on the radio between her way to and from various job interviews, but nothing that stuck efficiently in her mind. She leaves the house one day hurried and just catches a reporter talking about the actor again, as she grabs her keys, she hears her say something about his hair, a compliment perhaps, but is too busy rushing outside to hear the rest.

This morning, it was- well, "normal" is never quite the right word, but a lapse of time that was subjected to a routine, albeit not a necessarily good one, but a routine all the same. She would get the paper, scan it quickly for the job ads, usually in disgust, and then make breakfast. This consisted of a scone or biscuit and two cups of tea- one for herself and one that she made out of habit and heartbreak, usually left sitting cold on the table for the remainder of the day , just another small reminder of what she had lost. She would drain the cup at night when she had the energy to, defeated, as tears clouded her vision of the rather lonely tea mug. Although she seldom used the television, with all the programs dimming in comparing to past memories that seemed like a life time ago, she would watch it for a bit in the morning to hear about the latest news. Truthfully, although she denied it, there was always the hope that some obscure alien life taking over the U.K. again or a surprise invasion was making the headlines. Sadly, this morning held none of those hopeless whims, but rather an interview with actors and actresses for the upcoming BAFTA awards. The sun was giving off an almost stupidly cheerful amount of light and she had a rather promising job interview later in the afternoon. She rolled her eyes, but continued to watch the television, anything to keep my mind off of the inevitable, at least for today, she thought. She doesn't pay too much attention to the screen in front of her, absentmindedly glancing up between that and the paper.

The host announces they will be interviewing one of the most highly acclaimed actors of this year, with an over dramatic flourish of his hand and fans cheering wildly for the man who is about to walk out. The host says with strained enthusiasm over the deafening noise of the crowd "David Tennant, ladies and gentlemen". This mildly holds her attention, wondering what all the fuss could be over one ordinary human, man when he walks out onto the stage shaking the hands of the host. The first glimpse of him, she knows she's simply hallucinating. Slim and a little bit foxy. The second glance, she knows it's not possible, the hair, that hair, and the pinstripe suit. The third glance, with his face fully angled at the camera now, the face she had longed to see, the eyes that could willingly keep her gaze there forever, were now staring intently at her through the screen. I've lost my mind, she thinks unblinking, not daring to look away from the show before her, because it doesn't matter that he's shaking hands with the crowd now or that he's been nominated for being in a certain World War II four part drama. She sits right through the commercials about tea, and clothing sales and an add asking about a campaign to believe in someone named Sherlock Holmes, sponsored by some obscure man named John H. Watson.

When the show returns, she realizes, it does not matter that the very real man on the television set is announcing his name as David Tennant or that he will be at the BAFTA's that night at eight to hopefully accept an award. What matters is that she, Rose Tyler's, her very lonely and impossible traveler is in the U.K., in London for that matter, only miles and not a universe away. She's trembling now, running for her laptop to do a full search of this man now, but it doesn't matter she thinks, scarcely believing it, with tears of raw emotion clouding her eyes, my Doctor is back...

SO, SHOULD I CONTINUE THE STORY? RATE,REVIEW,COMMENTS, SUGGESTIONS, CONCERNS, FEELS, AND ALL FANGIRL/BOYING NOTIONS ARE ACCEPTED AND GREATLY APPRECIATED!