This is the story of Rissa Marina. A girl who thought she was only ever meant to dream of adventures and far off places and never really believed she would ever get to see any. Until one day, when she finds an old fob watch with strange symbols in a trunk in her grandmother's attic. She opens it, and everything changes. Suddenly her grandmother isn't even her grandmother, her home is not her home, and even the world she thought she belonged to turns out to be bigger than she'd ever imagined. Turns out she's not even human. She's a Time Lord who escaped from Gallifrey before the end of the Time War, the extinction of her species, and the burning of her planet. So young, she was sent away by her parents in the hopes that she could live a normal, human life. But now she remembers everything. Where is there to go and who is there to talk to now that she knows the truth of whom she is? Is she the very last of her kind? And what happens when her old childhood friend is plunged into the very thick of her new adventure? With the help of her protector and companion, her ever-faithful TARDIS, the three set out in the universe to discover the legacy of Rissa's inheritance, and what it really means to be a Time Lord.

Chapter 1

Austin Just's One Miracle

Just tell her. Just tell her. Just tell her, he chanted inside his head.

It has been his chant for months now. But when he looked back, he supposed it had really been his chant for years. All his life. Ever since the first day he met her.

She had said "Hello," and waved. And smiled. That smile. She had worn pigtails in her hair back then. Elementary school. Fifth grade; and she had worn pigtails held together with the black rubber bands that were always frayed; they were frayed because she twisted them about her hands when she was thinking. She was always thinking about something. She thought so much she didn't even talk to people. Except him. On that one particular day.

The miracle.

It was fall, and the leaves on the trees in the playground were fiery.

He was playing dodge ball at recess with a couple of other boys who he had fallen in with because they lived on the same street as he did. Even then, he was popular with other kids. Even his teachers loved him. He would grow up to be the best academically in his high school class, the star athlete of his varsity soccer team as a freshman, and the president of multiple clubs, including the youth government program of his city. Even at that age, he was always told how brilliant he was, how smart, how polite, how kind, how brave, how handsome, how perfect. He was the prize of his parents' eyes. He was popular for all the right reasons. He excelled at everything he did. Including dodge ball.

So call it fate, his inherent human flaws, or just a very strange, miraculous coincidence (or maybe just an unexpected gust of wind). But that single fall day in third grade, there was a miracle. And he made a very, very bad throw.

The red playground ball he had intended for the shoulder of a fellow classmate flew high over his head, far past the circle of the boys' game and rolled softly to the base of the swing set.

"Way to go, Just," one of the boys shouted. They had taken to calling him by his last name because that's what they had heard their older brothers doing with their friends, but mostly because they thought he had the coolest last name in the world. Like a spy, or a superhero.

"Yeah, nice throw!" the intended recipient of the throw, a broad boy with blonde hair snickered.

"Hey, don't laugh at Just!" a skinny boy shouted from the edge of the circle. "You're fault you couldn't catch it, you nitwit."

"Connor's right, you big nitwit. You should have caught it," another boy chimed in.

There was a chorus of "Yeah"'s.

The blonde boy just glared at Connor. Connor glowered back. He was so tall and his hair was so dark and his skin so pale that he ended up looking rather formidable, and the blonde boy broke under his gaze.

"Guys, it's fine, I can just go get it," Just said.

"You shouldn't have to," Connor said. "Make him go get it."

"No, it's fine. It was a bad throw," Just said, and smiled at the circle of boys. "I'll be right back." He ran off in the directions of the ball.

She was sitting there, on the swings, all alone, holding the ball. Behind her were the trees, so she sat in front of a background of bright crimsons and deep oranges and earthy browns. From that day on, he would always connect the color of her hair to the color of those leaves behind her. It was dark and iridescent and shining with life.

She was thinking. She had let one pigtail fall loose, and was twisting the band around her fingers. She looked so silly, almost laughable, with half her hair loose and caught up in the wind. She smiled at him, and waved. That smile.

"Hello," she said. Her voice was exciting. It was adventure and shots of hope in the dark.

"Hi," he said.

"Is this your ball?"
"Yes."

"Do you want it back?"
"Can I?"

"Sure, here you go."

She threw it to him, and he caught it firmly between his hands. But he didn't leave. For some reason he stood there, waiting for her to say something else.

She swung herself back and forth a little bit, the tips of her sneakers just touching the ground. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Austin Just."

She grinned. "What a name."

He smiled too; even though it wasn't the first time he'd heard it. "What's yours?"

She drew herself up, as if speaking her name was something that required all her dignity and pride. "Clarissa Marina," she said powerfully, and then broke into another grin. "Marina, like the sea. Have you ever seen the sea?" Austin shook his head, because he never had, except in pictures. "Me neither," she said. "Except in pictures. But it looks amazing. It's so pretty, and so big. My Nana says that as soon as it's summer and she's feeling better we can go see it. She said that she had a husband that went away to sea for months and when he came back it was all he could talk about, she said she thought if she didn't know any better that he loved the sea more than he loved her, but he didn't, he loved them both equally. But he's gone now. One day I'm going to go out to sea and see everything that you can't see where you're not at sea, and have adventures, and maybe I won't come back either." Her face lit up on the words sea and adventures.

Little Just stared back at her in awe. He'd never heard anyone talk the way she did.

"Your friends are waiting for you," Clarissa said.

Just turned around and Connor waved at him. "Come on!" he shouted.

Just turned back to Clarissa.

"Do you think… do you think the sea is really as big and as pretty as it is in pictures?" he asked.

She smiled. "Bigger," she said. "And prettier."

"I'd like to see that."

"Maybe you can come in the summer with my Nana and me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Do you… do you want to swing with me?" she asked, nodding her head towards the empty swing next to her.

Just hesitated for a whole half of a second. He could feel the eyes of his friends on his back, but right then the sun came out from behind the trees and lit up the leaves and her hair the same brilliant colors, and he said "Sure." He turned and threw the ball in a perfect arc back to Connor, who caught it, surprised.

He clambered up onto the swing next to her and pushed off powerfully. Clarissa started swinging too, and soon they were both whipping through the cold air, wind pressing on both of their faces.

She laughed and he laughed, and she tried to maneuver herself so she could kick lightly at him, but he ended up knocking her out of her own course.

She spun and giggled at cried out at the same time. "Austin!"

It was the first time she said his name. It was the first way she would say it, and she would end up saying it many ways throughout the years.

Angrily, accusingly, teasingly, loudly, softly. But the first time was a giggle and a cry of delight. He would remember that.

But anyways, that was the miracle.

A bad throw, and a girl who called him by his first name.

Just tell her. Just tell her. Just tell her. Just tell her.

Here he was again. How could he have gotten to this point? From that cold, fall day in fifth grade, to six years later, sitting on a curb across from her house, staring at the white door. Trying to convince himself to knock on her door and talk to her.

But it had been months since he'd talked to her. If a quick "Hello" in the hallways at school was considered talking. In actuality it had been years since they'd had a real conversation. Ever since high school started, and they drifted apart. How could two people go from being best friends to total strangers? Then again, that's the sort of thing high school can do to people.

He had his friends now and she had her friends, he guessed. Their schedules were completely different, he would just catch glimpses of her and a varying cast of characters as she exited the cafeteria, or the library, or the band room after school. Once in a blue moon, eye contact, or maybe a twitch of the hand that might have been a wave if it wasn't bashed down by now three years of non-communication before it could become one.

And she'd had some admirers, too, which killed him. Random boys he'd see talking to her, and she'd laugh at something they said and he'd see the look in their eyes. They were so plainly Friend Zoned that it almost hurt to look at. He did get a small sense of satisfaction from the fact that she was so plainly uninterested, though.

What makes you any better than them, idiot, he'd curse himself. At least they're friends. At least they talk to her and she laughs with them.

But none of the boys stuck around for long, as far as he gathered. She was neither in nor out of the social circle. Not promiscuous, but definitely not invisible. She just floated on the outskirts of it all, unwatched, it seemed, except by him.

So why was he sitting outside of her house today, after nearly no contact for three years?

It had happened yesterday. A conversation. A real one, not a couple of exchanged words on his way to somewhere else, not one he had made up in his head. They had actually talked. For a small time it seemed as though nothing had changed from the time when they were little and couldn't go days without seeing each other, and he had begun to think that maybe they could be friends again. Or maybe… more than friends.

Which brought him to where he was now.

With the perpetual chant of Just tell her. Just tell her. Just tell her. Like a drumbeat in his head. But what could he say? That wouldn't make him sound like an idiot? Like the biggest tool she'd ever met? Hey I know we were just best friends in middle school and we haven't talked since, but do you want to go to a movie with me? Have dinner? Get coffee?

That was sure to work out swell.

Just go home, he told himself.

Okay.

Just like that, he stood up and spun on his heels, embarrassed with himself, ready to hit the pavement running.

Just as he was about to swing into motion, he heard a voice behind him.

"Austin Just, is that you that's been sitting outside my house?"

He spun around to see Nana standing on the porch, her short, white curly hair perhaps even curlier and whiter than the last time he'd seen it; her faded yellow sweater and even more faded yellow; her shining pearl necklace just as shining as always.

"Nana," he said, in surprise, stepping closer.

"Forgot this was my house, did you?" she called.

"No ma'am," Austin smiled.

"Good, and don't you forget anytime soon. My family has lived in this house for three generations, you won't see me moving out of it any time soon."

"I'd never expect to, ma'am," he said, his smile threatening to take over his whole face.

"What's that?" she asked, squinting at him across the street.

"Nothing. I just wasn't sure you'd remember me, that's all," he said.

"Remember you?" she cackled, throwing her head back. "Why, the day I forget Austin Just will be the day I move out of this house. How could I forget you? Always romping about my yard and dragging my granddaughter out at all hours of the day and bringing her back with skinned knees, eating me out of my very kitchen – and Lord, you were only 11 years old then. I weep to think of the state of my cupboards if you came around for dinner now. Well, come on, let me get a closer look at you!"
Austin crossed the street, opened the gate, and hopped up the steps of the porch to be embraced by the old woman. The smell of her perfume was so familiar, he almost laughed out loud with joy.

"My, you're so tall and strong now," she said, drawing back and appraising him with approval.

"5'11," he said proudly.

"Of course you are," she beamed. "Now come in, come in. Don't tell me you're going to sit outside my house for an hour and then not have the decency to come in and have a cup of tea."

She ushered him through the hall and into the kitchen with the blue and white tiled floors, which hadn't changed a bit. Herding him into a wooden chair at the round kitchen table he had had so many meals at, she set about filling a kettle and setting it to boil. She chattered on about the state of her house and her hip and the daftness of her various doctors; all the meanwhile Austin sat silently watching her and barely containing his happiness. Nostalgia was something he welcomed wholeheartedly. He embraced the house like the old friend it was.

When the tea was done, she set a mug in front of Austin and he sipped it gratefully. She sat across the table from him with her own mug, and watched him with a kind smile etched into her wrinkled face.

"Now," she said, when a polite amount of time had passed for them both to enjoy their drinks. A knowing look overcame here. "I suppose the real reason you've been staking out my house is because you're here to see Clarissa."

He gulped down a hot mouthful of tea and set his mug down. "Um," he said, looking about nervously.

"Don't worry. She's not home now anyways. She's out with a friend at the park, I believe."

"Oh."

Nana leaned forward across the table. "Tell me, Austin… do you two talk at all anymore?"

Austin sighed. "Not exactly."

"What happened to you two? Honestly. One minute you're the best of friends, can't get you two apart, and the next… I've never been able to figure out what went wrong."

Austin hadn't been able to either. It kept him awake at night, trying to pin point an exact reason for their "break up," so to speak.

"I guess… we just both went different ways as soon as high school started. I joined the soccer team and made new friends and she… Well, to be perfectly honest, I'm not entirely sure what she's been up to lately."

Nana looked worried. "Neither am I."

"She does have friends, doesn't she, Nana?"

"Oh, she does have friends, I suppose. You know Clarissa. How could she not? She goes to the movies and to people's houses. She has friends. Just none like you were."

Austin thought about. He had friends too. Just none like her.

"Oh, I remember you two," Nana continued, stirring a spoon around her tea. "Dashing about. Phone calls at ungodly hours of the night. Never knowing which way was up and down in this house. Still have no idea how those footprints got on the ceiling." Austin bit down on his lip to keep from grinning. "Never seen any other kids like it. You were meant for each other, you two. A team made in heaven."

Austin couldn't help but agree.

Nana looked him in the eyes sadly. "Tell me, is there any way you could be friends again?"

"I hope so, ma'am," Austin said quietly.

"Please, watch over her, Austin. She needs someone to watch over her. I'm too old and she's too wild for me to keep up now."

"I'll try."

There was the sound of a crashing gate and the tires of a bike rolling over grass from the open kitchen window.

"That'll be her," Nana said. "She'll be putting her bike by the back side yard. Go talk to her."

Austin stood up and pushed in his chair. He thought he was ready to talk to her now. After all, they were a team made in heaven. He thanked Nana for the tea and crossed the kitchen, reaching for the door to the backyard.

"Mr. Just," Nana said.

"Ma'am?" he asked, turning around.

Nana looked at him pleadingly, with sadness in her eyes she almost never betrayed. "Watch over her. Help her. Please."

Austin nodded. "I promise," he said.

He left the kitchen and stepped out into the windy air. It had gotten quite colder from when he had gone inside. Heading for the side yard, he thought of a million things he could say, but none of them seemed to sound just right.

However, before he could turn the corner, he heard voices talking. Worried she might be with a friend, who would make the whole situation terribly awkward, he stopped by the corner and listened quietly.

"Why are we still here?" a voice asked. A girl's voice. Not hers.

"Just wait a bit longer," a second voice said. It was Rissa this time, Austin could tell.

"I've been waiting for 16 years," the stranger girl said, restlessness vibrating in her voice.

"Just a bit longer," Rissa pleaded her.

"You don't know what it's been like. Being so trapped for so long."

"Yes I do."

"It's not the same! You didn't know that you were missing out on anything. Now that you do, how can you want to stay a second longer?"

"I have… things I need to take care of first. Things here."

"Don't you want to know what it's like, though? Just one, tiny little trip… A test run. We can be back before we've even left."

There was a short silence before Rissa asked, "Just one trip?"

"A test run."

"Where would we go?"

Austin could hear the smile in the second girl's voice. "Oh, Clarissa Marina, do I have worlds to show you."

"Fine," Rissa said, rather sharply, but there was also excitement in her voice.

The stranger girl let out a cry of happiness, and then she was silent. A sort of shimmering yellow light drifted around the corner and into Austin's view, like someone had dropped a handful of golden sparkles.

Utterly confused and convinced he was going crazy, Austin swept around the corner just in time to see Rissa standing utterly alone in the side alley, facing away from him and looking at a giant, magnificent blue box that read Police Public Call Box: For Use Of Public on it. He couldn't move, he was so shocked by the appearance of the box. It seemed so out of place and otherworldly.

He tried to call out, but his voice couldn't catch up to him as fast as it should have, so all he had time to do was call out "Rissa!" just in time to watch her open the doors to the box and step inside; and to hear the strange noise of the box, and it's blinking yellow light as it began to fade away.