Obligatory Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Doctor Who. There are many people to thank for its creation, too many to list, but all credit belongs to them. I do not own many of the locations, or plot, though I have added a few things of my own. Keara Ashland is mine. She my Original Companion, and I own a few others too.

Summery: The Doctor, just moments before regenerating, meets a madwoman looking for company. The TARDIS has plans for her but something goes wrong, as it always does. Unfortunately, someone else has cropped up as well. His drums pulse wildly in her mind and bring her comfort and pain as well. Master/OC. Rated M for violence, language, and explicit scenes in later chapters.

Spoiler Alert: Um, not many spoilers. Picks off right before Ten regenerates, so if you didn't know that Ten becomes Eleven then you're screwed. Mentions of the Master's previous adventures but I guess it isn't to spoilery... There is a bit of spoilers for EoT.

Rating Warning: Rated 'M' for violence, language, self-hurt, explicit scenes, character deaths and all around Saxon bashing.

Enjoy.

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Chapter One:
Just A Madwoman

"Oi, could they make these things any bloody heavier?"

She was only mumbling herself, of course. No one else but her would be outside with the weather as it was, and certainly not at that time of night. With a huff, she struggled with the objects; her petite frame trying its hardest to keep up with the juggling of the files in one hand, her lukewarm latte in the other. Once again, she had found herself burning the midnight oil, trying her best to review for what could possibly be the biggest case of her career. Focusing, however, she had found rather difficult.

She is, by no means, daft. No, that was certainly not the problem. To be truthful, she had always been clever, and rather observant. Quick to solve a problem using the road less traveled. Unfortunately, this was also the reasoning behind her problems.

Keara Ashland was a dreamer, for lack of a better word.

Even as she trudged down the deserted streets of Cambridge, Massachusetts at half past three in the morning, she couldn't keep her mind on the task at hand. Her mind drifted, thinking of things far from the realm of more pressing matters. Her surroundings blurred, smeared into nothingness around her. Perhaps it was her dreaminess mixed with her lack of sleep, but her normally observational personality had long since left her.

Keara tried to focus on the dozen of files and few books wrapped tightly in her arms. Should she drop them, they would land in the snow. Hundred of dollars worth of textbooks, and dozens and dozen of hours of work ruined, over snow and blissful daydreams.

So, the young woman juggled the best she could, deciding it best to simply lose her latte instead. She would home and warm soon enough. When finally satisfied with how she had arranged herself, Keara continued her trek through knee-high snow, heading to her flat for some much needed sleep. Though, she couldn't stop her teeth from chattering.

"Daft, impractical git, you are," Keara chastised herself, turning a corner. "A pencil skirt? Why would you wear a bloody skirt in the middle of winter? Murder trial, be damned! It was completely irresponsible."

After her outburst was over, and she managed to keep her body from shaking, Keara stopped short at entrance of her apartment complex. It wasnt a far walk from her office, something that she was thankful for, but it was grueling in the snow, especially in heels. Ensuring the planter was completely dry, she sat her files on the flower box, her bag on top so they be blown away in the fierce January wind. A small, pained sigh escaped her trembling lips.

Slipping a hand in to the pocket of her overused coat, she felt her fingers wrap around the small bottle inside. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she pulled out the orange bottle. One pill before bed can't hurt, she told herself as she forced the pink oval down her throat. A dry swallow had not been her best option, rather her only at the moment. If Keara had one wish though, it would be the medicine kicked in and soon. The short woman was near tears with pain from her back.

As she bent down, reaching for her things as a tremor passed over, something caught her attention. Gingerly she turned her head, looking the direction of the park that was just across the road. It looked abandon, of course. No one in their right mind would be there at this time of night. The irony of that thought didn't escape Keara's own fragile mind as she stared at the thing that had so enticed her. The park looked normal. Well, almost normal.

"Never seen that before," Keara noted, for the moment completely forgetting about her possessions. She strained her eyes, trying to will her mind to see reason. "A police box? No. No... I havent seen one of those in years! Not since I was a kid. But there it is, in Massachusetts of all places."

Her thing grip on reality seemed to dwindling further, though she'd never admit that aloud. But, well, she couldn't bring herself to deny the existence of the blue box. Without thinking, she stepped over a snow bank or two, then made her way across the street and into the small park. The police box seemed to be just sitting there, as if it had always been there and Keara wondered for a moment if, in other circumstances, would she have even noticed it? For some odd reason, it didn't seem out-of-place.

But as she grew closer, the box seemed to almost glow, something that she gave credit to her over active imagination for, and it seemed to call out to her. Begging for her undivided attention. It was blue than any blue she had ever seen, and yet if someone had asked her to say what shade it was, she doubted that she would have been able to answer.

"You're just about every shade of blue I've ever laid eyes on. Odd. Amazing all the same though. Question is," Keara was close to the police box now. Her soft hands hovered over its panels, almost afraid to touch it. "What are you? A police call box? No, real question is, who are you, eh?"

With that, she heaved a dry chuckle, allowing her small hands to fall to her sides. It was late. She was sleep deprived. She had the most important case of her life in just a few short hours. And she was standing out in the open, snow falling around her, talking to a box.

"I've gone mad! That's it, I'm checking myself into a mental insinuation as soon as we lose this damn case," She bitterly stated to herself, as well as the box in front of her. "Sorry for bothering you, old girl. Just a madwoman looking for some company."

Keara allowed her warm forehead to come into contact with the icy looking doors of the police box. It was warm, much more so than she had expected. It felt like gentle embrace and she felt her body relax. Something inside her was beginning to stir.

Its alright. I have a mad man looking for the same thing.

"WHAT," Keara exclaimed, scrambling backwards into a pile of fresh snow. She stared for a moment, wondering what in her mind had possessed her to hear a voice before blurting out. "You talked? Boxes most certainly do not talk! And was that pity in your tone?"

"She didn't talk," A voice called out, and Keara rose to her feet in search of the source. Almost immediately hers eyes came to rest on a man sitting on a swing, gently pushing himself to and fro. His face was sadden, but his eyes burned with ancient curiosity as he regarded her closely.

"No, it did! I heard it! Talking about a madman wanting the same thing," She retorted, holding her head high as she always did. But the thought soon happened upon her that perhaps the voice could have been all in her head, a mere figment of her overactive imagination that held her.

"It's all in your head," The strange man tapped the side of his temple delicately with his index finger, only confirming her fears. Keara nibbled at her bottom lip, a habit that she had held faithfully. Their eyes locked with one another's. "You arent mad. No, just able to hear what most others can't. Nothing wrong in your mind."

"You mean, all of a sudden, I can talk to boxes," Keara scoffed, placing her hands high on her hips. Her touchy temper flared slightly, feeling that the man was making fun of her. "I wish I could have done that a few months back when I got trapped in that cabinet."

With that, the man gave a dry laugh at her odd attempts at a joke. She didn't care. It hadn't been her intentions to make a joke really. Just defuse the tension mounting in her own mind. You ramble sometimes, she was overly critical on herself. You say too much when you're nervous and you look daft. Quiet now, focus! You're alone, in a park, in the middle of the night, with a man you don't know...

"Havent seen you around," Keara had decided to change the subject.

"Oh, I've been around. Always have been," He chuckled to himself, standing up from the swing and let his hands slip into his pants pockets. "Back to you not being completely mental. It really was all in your head, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"That box. She talks to me. Talks to my companions, if she likes them. Never seen her talk to a stranger before," He rubbed his jaw, looking curiously from woman to box, then back to woman.

It was then that Keara noticed just how damaged he looked. Well, perhaps damaged wasnt the right word. He looked worn, and tired. Like an old, broken toy that was about to be tossed aside.

She bit her lip once more, taking in all his features as he watched her. He was tall, much taller than Keara herself. Though, with her small stature, that didn't count for much. With his accent, she guessed he wasnt from "around" as he had claimed. The man, with his strong jaw and brown eyes, was by all means handsome but he was obviously sad. Even just standing there, dressed in a long brown coat, with a neck tie and Converse that didn't match, he seemed like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"She really feels bad for you," He suddenly spoke, jerking Keara away from her observations.

"Yeah, well, I do not want or require pity from a box," She hissed, shoving her hands into her pockets. The figure took several more long strides towards her, coming to stand at her side. Both were quiet, lost in their own thoughts. Green eyes and brown, dead locked with the blue box in front of them.

"If she things you are deserving of pity, often times you need it," The man finally spoke. Keara felt the corners of her lips turn up involuntarily when she heard his voice. It was alit with the wonderment of a child and for a second, she wondered if she were dealing with an eight year old.

"Please," It was barely a whisper to escape Keara's mouth. She was well aware of the man's eyes on her but hers didn't stray from the police box. "Just please, don't try to speak as though you know me. You don't know me from Eve, so please don't pity me."

"I knew Eve very well, thank you. Now that woman deserved some pity, though I wouldnt have dared say that to her face. She wasnt even first, you know. Perhaps the first to be noticed, maybe, possibly," He let his sentence trail, eyeing Keara with curiosity.

It was Keara's scoff, echoing off the trees in that empty park, that finally diminished that curiosity. It soon faltered, as if the mystery about her no longer held any interest. And really, it didn't. He simply didn't have that kind of time left.

"Suppose this will be a mystery for the next me," He stated somberly, walking towards the box. Keara watched closely as he reached into his coat to remove a key, which seemed to unlock the blue box with ease.

"The next you? Well, can I at least know who this you is," Keara reached for his hand, to stop him from pushing the door open. He turned to look at her as their hands touched, the pain still in his eyes. Keara had to suppress her gasp. She hadn't expected the impact his expression would have on her bleeding heart. The woman had always been quick to sympathetic.

"Want to know who I am," He asked, a cheeky smile playing at his lips. It did nothing to hide the grim light behind his eyes. "Bit rude not to introduce yourself first, isnt it?"

"Havent we been over this? I'm apparently a madwoman," Keara rolled her eyes, wondering why she hadn't left already. After all, she was tired. And slightly angered that a box had taken pity on her but she answered anyway, "Keara Ashland, at your service."

"Keara Ashland. Hm, yes, I knew a Keara once. Beautiful woman. She broke poor Eddie Poe's heart more than once," The man chuckled.

"Eddie Poe? What, Edgar Allen Poe?"

"Oh yes, if you want to be oh so accurate. But his friends call him Eddie," He replied, locking eyes with the shorter woman, but he knew he was just creating more questions. "Yes, well, I'm the Doctor."

"Just the Doctor then. I don't get a first name. Last name? Just title, as it were," Keara sighed heavily, the cold starting to grip her. "Suppose it does suit you. A man with a blue box and no proper name. Yeah, it really suits you. So, going inside your box for a bit of shut-eye, eh?"

"Something like that. I'd invite you along but..." He couldn't continue. The Doctor, in any other time of his lives, would have loved a new companion. But now was not the time, not when he was so close to the end. "Well, goodnight, mad little Keara Ashland. Try not to break any hearts."

The man, the Doctor, turned and opened the door fully, ushering himself in and shielding Keara from getting a better view of the inside. He closed the door quietly behind and suddenly she felt utterly alone. More so that she had felt in a very long time, which was strange considering all she had been through.

She could still feel the sadness that he seemed to carry. The guilt his persona seemed to just drip with. Perhaps, she thought, she was just too empathetic sometimes, or her mind perceived it that way. Either which, she couldn't shake the distressed feeling she had read from his eyes. If anyone was deserving of pity, it was the Doctor.

Keara knew she was being irrational. She was simply tired, and needed rest. The police box would still be there when she was awoke in the morning, right? It isn't as if it could just whisk itself away.

It wasnt here when you left this morning.

Inwardly, she shouted at herself to shut it and outwardly she stomped. With a huff, she decided that it was time to head home. She adjusted her coat, straightened her pencil skirt, cleaned her glasses, and even ran her hands through her black tresses, which had become quite wild.

But, in the end, Keara couldn't make herself move. At least not towards her apartment. Instead, she found herself inching towards the beautiful blue box. She found herself letting her head come to rest against it once more. And she even found herself speaking to it again.

"My name is Keara. Grand meeting you," Keara stated, feeling utterly foolish about speaking to a box. "Uh, I don't usually go around, you know, talking to strange boxes - Strange but absolutely beautiful. Yes, um, what to say? Well, for starters, have you got a name?"

Nothing.

Suddenly, she felt like an even bigger prat, and she wondered for a second if the nuns that had raised her had been right. Perhaps, she was completely insane. He said his name was the Doctor. Of course, a doctor. I wonder, could one of the sisters have sent him... 'Oh, Keara! We were just concerned for you and your safety, child!' Oi, I can hear those righteous berks now!

Keara couldn't stop but chuckle darkly, letting her hands come to rest beside her head. "Come on, girl. You've got to have a name. If you don't, well, then I truly am mental. And if I'm truly that mad, I'll just have to commit myself!"

You arent that mad.

"Oi," She gasped, but didn't dare move as she feared she'd break the strange connection she seemed to have found. "Blimey. Not mad, eh? So, you do have a name then."

Perhaps. Normally, they simply call me TARDIS.

"TARDIS. Thats lovely. I've never had a conversation with a box before. Dont suppose I ever will again," Keara laughed to herself. "Can I ask you a question? Tell me, TARDIS, is he always so sad? This Doctor fellow?"

Yes.

"Oh..."

And no.

"No," Keara repeated, thinking of the pained man who stood behind the wooden doors her head rested on. A mix of emotions washed over her, most of them sad. Then again, she had always been far too inclined to share the pain of others. "Can you tell me, why is he so sad at this moment?"

He is dying. Inconveniently, as always.

"Dying? Inconvenient, I'd certainly say! I've only just met him," Keara couldn't say why she reacted so, but it had struck a nerve somewhere deep inside her. Part of her was angry that he had waltzed in and out of her life without so much as a real name, but a larger, more important part, felt like it was being ripped apart. She now knew why she felt so sad when she had held his gaze.

Do not cry for him. He wont be dead for long. Although...

"Wont be dead for long? I'm afraid I don't understand," She shook her head slightly, though she kept it pressed to the door. "The man is dying and you ask me not to cry. Incredible. And what of that although at the end?"

My thief is so alone. It'd be nice for him to awake with a companion.

And with that, a 'click' could be heard and the door eased open just a fraction. Keara held her breath as the light bathed over her, calling out like a beacon in the night. She could hear a wheezing sound from inside, sparking her interest about the insides. With a deep intake of breath, she pushed the door open a bit wider to allow her slender frame to slip in, seemingly unnoticed.

Hurry, my madwoman. Not much longer now.

"Roomy," Keara commented, trying to take in her surroundings. What had a appeared as a simply old fashion police box from the outside, now appeared to be some sort of control room on the inside. Not just a control room. No, there were landings and corridors leading off to places that she instantly wanted to discover.

"She's much bigger on the inside," His voice carried throughout the room. He stood tall, atop a brilliant deck which seemed to act as the control center. The lights at his back flashed, turning different colors, but Keara could only focus on the annoyance clearly written across his face. "But that isnt the important thing her. New question is: How did you get in?"

"TARDIS let me in," She casually replied, letting her nimble frame glide towards him as her gaze was everywhere but his face.

"What?" He questioned, obviously offended. "The TARDIS let you in?

"No, not the TARDIS. She said her name was TARDIS. I'm an invited guest, so don't get huffy with me," Keara let her eyes burn intensely into his, her emerald greens meeting his chestnut browns.

"She? This is curious," He whispered softly, just barely audible, "You see, most people dont see the TARDIS as a living being. Even my companions never fully grasp the concept. So, why is it that a little girl from London understands this?"

"I am from Yorkshire, if you must know," She hastily corrected him. "Leeds, to be exact!"

"Leeds, right. Most boring place on Earth. Doesnt really matter," The Doctor shrugged, "More the point, none of this matters at the moment. Time for you to be leaving. Pleasant meeting you. We'll have to do this again sometimes, but now-"

Suddenly the Doctor crumbled at the top of the console, clutching his chest in pain. He gasped, both his hearts feeling as though they were pumping acid. He had known this was coming, though he had desperately tried to prolong the time he had left. This was his time, he knew. That still didn't stop the pain cry from escaping his lips.

"She said you were dying," Keara was by his side before he had even had a chance to catch his breath. Her tone was pleading, her mind racing to think of something, anything that could help. "Please, Doctor, there has to be something I can do."

"No. Nothing," The Doctor whispered, almost to himself and she could feel the tears slide down her cheeks. Keara had always been, and always be an easy crier, but that? That made her heart feel like it was breaking. It had been years since she had felt anything like what she was feeling. The Doctor's pain, so blatantly written in his features, felt like her own pain. Every labored sigh, every subtle twitch of his body. It felt like her own, and she wished she could take it away.

"Figures. I finally met someone who doesn't think I'm completely bonkers and he's about to die," She stated, trying her best to be lighthearted. The Doctor laughed genuinely as she ran her hand through his hair. The man relaxed under her touch, but Keara only felt her heart grow heavier. "Wh-whats going to happen? She said you wouldn't be dead long."

He didn't respond with words, he couldn't. He simply didn't have the energy. A new wave of pain was surging through him, forcing his tired body to writhe in pain on the floor of the TARDIS as Keara watched in horror. Her mind was racing, though she kept from panicking.

Has to be something I can do! Alright, looks like a space ship. Space ships have sick bays. Yes! A sick bay! Please, TARDIS, have a sick bay! Her thoughts were spinning rapidly as she scrambled to her feet, using the console as support, accidentally hitting several buttons along the way. She paid no attention to this fact, instead racing down the steps.

But the TARDIS began to groan, stopping her dead in her tracks before it suddenly jolted. Keara was thrown down the last few steps and landed flat on her back, earning a cry of sheer pain from the small woman. Then, everything was absolutely still.

"I don't want to go."

Keara could hear the Doctor's voice say. Just the tone of his voice was enough to make Keara want to cry. The room filled with bright light, blinding her from everything. She shielded her eyes with one arm, still flat on her back.

She laid there silently for a few seconds, waiting for the light to subside. All thoughts were about the Doctor, if he was okay, if he was dead. She didnt. The only thing she could be certain of was the crushing heartache she felt. The light faded briefly, and Keara attempted to open her eyes but the light burst back with twice the intensity and the room shook. It felt as though there had been an explosion. She gasped, letting a few more tears flow but forced herself to her feet the moment she could.

"Spontaneous combustion? You've got to be kidding," Keara whispered to herself, before shaking the silly thoughts from her head. The reality was sinking in. "Doctor! Doctor!"

Keara made her way back to where she had left the Doctor, noting that the entire console looked like it had been blown to pieces. Various wires and parts dangled freely, some still on fire. Other parts were shooting sparks or spewing something that looked like oil. And the back half was completely ablaze.

But the Doctor, he was wasnt there.

"Doctor! Come on, you have to be here! TARDIS said you wouldn't be dead long," Keara found herself sobbing, but still searching for any signs of the man who had just been there. The only thing remaining seemed to be the feeling of pure fear in her soul.

She ran around the console, only to slip and fall in what she now prayed was only oil. On the way down, she could feel her shirt snag on something, and a searing pain shot through her arm. Letting out a long string of curses, she stood up and steadied herself, eyes still searching for the man.

Everything around her seemed to still for a brief moment. It was like something inside her had shifted, and a small spark of hope seemed to explode inside her. A wave of happiness she couldn't explain.

"Doctor! Where-" Here eyes widened when a head popped up from the other side of the console. A different head then the one she had looked for. "D-Doctor?"

"Legs! I've still got legs," He gushed, kissing one of his legs, "Good! Arms, head! Ooh, fingers. Lots of finger! Ears? Yes. Eyes? Two! Nose... Uh, I've had worse. Chin... Blimey!"

He seemed to not even recognize that Keara was in the room and she simply stared at him, watching closely as he touched his legs and arms once more. If there was ever a time she had questioned her sanity, it was then. But she couldn't help from wanting to smile as she watched him run his hands through his hair. His smile was enough to cause one of her own.

"Oh my God! I'm a girl," The man's voice became quite high-pitched and Keara didn't stop herself from laughing. He ran his hands down his face, fingers scrambling in a panic. They came to rest comfortably over his Adam's apple. "No! No, I'm not a girl."

He pulled one of the longer locks of hair forward, just enough for him to see and scowled. His childlike face seemed to falter in its excitement as he examined the piece of brown hair.

"I'm still not a ginger."

Despite the fact that the man she had been trying to save had disappeared, seemingly to be replaced by this man, and despite the fact that the TARDIS seemed to be blowing up around her, Keara couldn't contain her laughter. She didn't ever attempt to. Never had she seen someone sad because they were not a ginger.

"Keara," The Doctor seemed confused as he looked up at her. Keara bit her lip in worry. Suddenly, she felt strange. Her new-found excitement was mixed with a strange self-conscious feeling, standing there covered in filth, hair beyond salvage, and even bleeding. "Still here? Good. I suppose if the TARDIS has kept you this long, she had plans for you. Always does, smug sexy thing. Right then, guess I should get up. Oh look, is that fire?"

He was talking a mile a second, faintly reminding Keara of, well, herself at times. But the woman was still vaguely confused. "Doctor? Is that you?"

"Is it me? Course its me! Who else would it be? Saint Nick? New face, new hands, new... Well, everything," He was on his feet before he could finish his sentence, scrunching his face as if that would help jog her memories. "Now, what is this? I'm forgetting something. Yes, something important."

"The fire, maybe," Keara looked towards the growing inferno behind them. "Nice face, by the way. Looks name brand. Something you might find at Dixons."

The Doctor smiled at her attempts to hide confusion. She hadn't run screaming, not yet anyway. She deserved to know what was happening. He opened his mouth, ready to explain everything but stopped. He was forgetting something... Then, it hit him, "We're crashing. We. Are. Crashing!"

"We're crashing and you're smiling like a madman," Keara wanted to be angry as she watched the Doctor dash about the console but she simply couldn't. No, she was enjoying all this as much as he was.

"Come on, don't just stand there! Pull that lever. Yes! Good," The madman hollered with unconfined excitement, watching as she ran about the console in her tattered business suit, a smile lighting up her face. He returned the sly smile and tried his best to maneuver the blue box.

Both threw levers and hit buttons, working around each other with ease. The Doctor kept a close eye on the small woman, noticing just how comfortable she seemed to be given the conditions they were in. He also noted just how easily she seemed to know which knobs to turn and at what times.

The Time Lord smiled to himself. He was happy, even if this body wasnt a ginger. It seemed that even if he had planned to regenerate alone, the TARDIS had other idea. Ideas involving a brilliant new companion. Perhaps this time, in this new body, in this new life, he could actually get one right.

"GERONIMO!"

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Author's Note: Yep, I've finally started a Doctor Who story! I'm so excited to be doing this, finally. Just any Whovian story, really!

But, even though this starts out with the basic Eleventh Hour kind of feel, it isn't going to stay that way. Actually, we'll probably be leaving the Doctor in the next chapter. Don't worry, don't worry. I'll give you someone nice to replace him... Well, not nice per say. But good, none the less!

After all, this is a Master/OC story and if I follow too closely to the Eleventh Doctor, there isn't much time for anything else. I can't promise too much romance. In fact, if you're looking for a fluff piece, you'd best leave now.

Also, if you ever notice me mentioning the Master's breath or skin as hot and you find yourself ready to tell me that Time Lord flesh is cold, let me just say, I KNOW! But after the Master's botched resurrection, he was leaking life energy at an alarming rate. Even with a new body, I felt he should still have slightly hotter than normal skin. Don't like it? Too bad.

Quick rundown. Not as detailed as I usually give. Why? Well, it would ruin things if I revealed too much! If I had to compare her to a celebrity, I would most likely say Erica Durance. Oh, but do take a close look at her birthday! Do you notice something familiar about it and our quirky little Smith?

Character Profile:

Keara Ashland
Origins: Irish for Dark, Gallifreyan for Temptress
Pronounced: KEER-ah (Gallfreyan Pronunciation)
Gender: Female
Birth Date: October 28th, 1980
Height: 167 cm (5'4")
Weight: 52 kg (About 114lbs)(To Begin With)
Skin Tone: Pale
Hair: Black (Natural)
Eyes: Emerald Green
Occupation: Assistant District Attorney

NEXT CHAPTER: A Lesson in Being Natural