Why hello there! Warning, this is my first ever story. It may not be that great. But I assure you, if, and only if, you review at the end of this chapter, it just might get better! And yes, Violet Taylor is a play on Rose Tyler, before anyone asks.
Yawning, the Doctor stretched out, suddenly realizing where he had fallen asleep for the fourth time that week: in the TARDIS control room. Lately, she had been complaining about something or other. Maybe she was just bored of staying in one place for too long. But it wasn't like there was anything to do. The Doctor was just as bored as his TARDIS.
On the other side of London, there was a young girl, about eighteen years of age, waking up as well. Her name was Violet, named after the flower, her mum's favorite, and the color, which matched her eyes nearly perfectly; they were only barely too blue. Her dark hair was long, reaching the middle of her back. Unfortunately, this made it extremely difficult to take care of, but she managed. Her little cousin, who had a not-so-severe form of cancer, had lost her hair because of the chemotherapy and always envied her big cousin's long, dark brown, thick, sort-of wavy hair. Violet was waiting for the perfect time to chop it all off and donate it to a wig-making facility for children with cancer.
On a Saturday morning, most girls her age would be sleeping in. It's very good for you to do this, by the way. But Violet had work to go to. The local library didn't shelve the books itself! If you asked Violet why in the world she chose to work at a library, she would just say that she was a gigantic dork, or a book nerd, or she was such a bibliophile, or she just liked a way to use her OCD for the greater good, but that wasn't it. Granted, she told the truth. Those were reasons that she liked working there. But the reason she chose to work at a library was because of a book that Aunt Matilda gave her when she was very young, called, "Anne of Green Gables." She had begun reading it as soon as it touched her fingertips, when she was but eight years old, but the tiny print and long words combined forced her to set it aside for a bit. Fast forward to her twelfth birthday and she finds it on her desk and reads it in an hour. She loved that little library, tucked away in a little corner, just a few blocks down from her family's house, because she had read nearly every single book in it. This was quite convenient, and also meant that she was good at recommending books.
But all detours in description aside, it was seven o'clock in the morning and Violet needed to get dressed. Grabbing her favorite dress, a silvery-gray knee-length one with no sleeves, and a heathery gray sweater, she slipped on her bunny-rabbit slippers and went into the bathroom to take a shower.
Meanwhile, the Doctor was tracking…something. He wasn't sure, yet, what it was, but he knew it was an odd energy signal. Something you don't see every day, even when you have a TARDIS. Almost like the Huon energy in Donna, but not really that similar. The actual particles themselves were quite flammable, like an extraterrestrial fuel, but other that that, they seemed benign. You know, not that it couldn't harm. Any and everything in existence has the capacity of injuring another being or causing destruction. It just wasn't, well, poisonous. Around seven forty-five, he tracked it down to a tiny library on a tiny street corner.
At that same time, Violet was walking in the same direction, only just about to run into the Doctor. You'd think that, with her slightly metallic dress, she would be noticeable, but apparently her tiny stature made up for that, and she began on her collision course. She looked up, though, and saw him coming straight at her. She looked at him, and knew he was lonely. Wondering why, Violet scribbled a quick note onto her notepad, tore it out, folded it up, and quickly ran into him.
"Oops, sorry! Oi, sometimes I've begun to think that instead of eyes on the back of it, I need eyes on the top of my head!" exclaimed the girl. Little did he know that he had just been reverse-pick-pocketed.
The man, wearing an odd accessory, a bow tie, said in reply, "Yes, I know what you mean. You going into the library here?" he asked.
"Yes, I work here. Have you ever been here before? It smells so nice in there, like old books and nice stories," said Violet.
He said, almost to himself, nearly a whisper, but not quite, "Yes, I do love a good story. Somewhere I can get lost into." Violet saw with a greater intensity the pain and loss in his eyes she had seen a few moments earlier, but then it was gone, replaced by silliness. "So, do you have a favorite book here?" he asked.
The girl thought about it for a moment, the replied, saying, "No, I like all of the books I've ever read. Although," she added, as an afterthought, "the Harry Potter books are pretty good reads."
He turned and looked straight at her and said, "Miss, I do believe that we will be very good friends. Oh, I never got your name," the man said. "I'm the Doctor. And you?"
"Oh, I'm Violet. Nice to meet you, Mister Doctor."
"No, no, no, it's just the Doctor. No added on Mister. Just the Doctor," said the Doctor, in an almost admonishing tone of voice.
"Okay, okay!" laughed Violet.
"How old are you, anyway?" inquired the Doctor. "You look a bit too young to have a job."
"Oh, I'm eighteen. I just look fourteen," stated Violet drily.
She silently sauntered over to the front desk to check in and get her name badge. After getting it, she went into the back room of the library, presumably to check the duties list for the day and see what she had to do that day. While she did that, the Doctor realized that there was something in one of his front pockets that wasn't there before. Slowly, he pulled out the note that Violet had slipped into his pocket. It read, "I know you're lonely. I know you're sad. Why are you alone if you're lonely?" Hmm, he thought to himself, a tiny bit sad, remembering why he was alone, even though he was lonely. Hmmm.
There was nothing Violet hated more than people thinking that, because the was small, she was ten or twelve. She wore stylish glasses; her pink "hipster frames" were very fashionable. She kept up on all of the latest trends and such, making sure to choose clothing for her age group. Nothing worked. She would always look like a little girl. Granted, when she's old, she might like this skill, but when you're eighteen, you want to look eighteen, not fourteen.
Violet checked in and then went back into the storerooms to sort returned books for an hour. By the time she finished putting them on the according rolling shelf, it was nine o'clock. She grabbed the rolling shelf for the "Young Children's Books" section and began to walk over to that end of the library, but then noticed that the Doctor was madly dashing about the place, holding a thingimawhatsit with wires hanging out in places that she was sure they weren't supposed to, staring at a glass screen, tapping it, seeming as if he was looking for something, like a tracker.
"No running in the library," she called, hoping to at least prevent the obviously klutzy man from tipping over more than his share of big bookshelves.
"I don't need a babysitter," came the reply.
"Oh, you don't, then? Well, if you knock over one of these shelves, you'll be covering the expenses," Violet stated matter-of-factly. He stopped dead in his tracks.
"Okay, maybe I will just…walk," said the Doctor, the end of the sentence sounding like a little boy detesting having to tidy up for dinner.
Oh, brother, thought Violet. He's a handful.
About an hour later, Violet was nearly half done with shelving books. On a quiet day, she may have been finished ten minutes before, but with the Doctor, that crazy, sad man, dashing to and fro, little children looking for books and, in the process, ruining her perfectly arranged bookshelves, mussing the Dewey Decimal System all around, people asking her about what books she recommended for certain topics or school assignments, like book reports and reading for fun, and her best friend, Alissa, and Alissa's boyfriend, Neil, interrupting her at the oddest moments to ask a question or mention a tidbit of gossip for the day, Violet felt as if the universe just wanted her to take a break and go for chips or something. Stop her from doing her work, right?
She told the Head Librarian, Lilith Grace Addens, that she was going on a bit of an early lunch with Alissa, who said, "It's quite alright, Violet. I was just about to go find you and ask you if you wanted to go on break early today; there's a new employee being trained, and I would like to have him on his own." Ooh, a boy? thought the hormone centre in her brain. I wonder how old he is.
"Oh, who is he? I may know him," said Violet unconvincingly.
"A young man about nineteen years old. His name is…is…oh! It's Harold. Do you know him?" asked Lilith.
Harold. Oi, this job might get a bit funky if that kid's working here, Violet thought.
"Sort of."
At that she dashed off to find Alissa. First going to their usual table, the medium one right by the "Big Wall of Historical Fiction," then searching the other places that Neil and Alissa sometimes hide in to scare her, then calling their names repeatedly, first calmly, then frantically. Finally, she thought she heard them, coming from —what? That couldn't be. Only employees had keys to the basement. Yet, here she was, ear pressed against the door, hearing a voice, loud and obnoxious, that could only be Neil's.
"Hey, anyone there? Violet? Anna? Peter? Hell, Miss Addens, are you there?" called Neil.
"Neil? Is Alissa with you?" Violet asked back.
"Here!" came a shout. Alissa was alright.
"Hey guys, why are you in there? Got stuck when you attempted to hide in there for a snog?" asked Violet teasingly.
"Vi, this isn't funny!" Alissa's frantic voice shouted.
Crap, thought Violet. Alissa was never scared, or at least, never showed fear.
"Hold on a minute, I know someone who can help!" At that, she darted off into the bookshelves, searching for the Doctor. Because if there's one thing she's good at, the Violet can look into someone's eyes and see their souls, or, at least, bits and pieces of them. Emotions. Reactions. That's what she saw in the Doctor's eyes the first time —and only time—they ever met; she saw remorse, pure and painful, and she saw unhappiness, raw and recent. But besides that, she also saw experience and knowledge beyond belief. She thought— she knew that this knowledge could save her best friends.
"If the Doctor is here, then could he please come to the 'Big Wall of Historical Fiction' as soon as possible? Thank you," Violet said into the intercom that was normally only used for announcing closing times. She jogged back to the "Big Wall," glad that she decided against wearing her favorite silver ballet flats today and instead wore a pair of pink trainers. As soon as she got to the wall, she saw the bow tie-clad man leaning up against the bookcase, a serious expression over his normally smiley face.
"So, I suppose you found the source of that energy spike before me," said he.
"I don't know and don't care, my best friend, Alissa, and her boyfriend are trapped in the basement. Alissa was near tears, Doctor. She never shows fear, not the tiniest bit, ever."
His eyes widened the tiniest bit, as if in shock but not completely. "Well, let's go then, am I right? Geronimo!"
He started to run towards the entrance, when he stopped, turned around, and said, "The basement is the other way, isn't it."
Violet nodded.
They both tore off, the Doctor following Violet through the maze of books. When they finally reached the basement door, Violet yelled into the wooden slab separating her from her best friends, "Hey, Alissa! Neil! I'm back!"
There was no reply.
Then there was a scream. The Doctor immediately began trying to sonic the lock, but it was no use, that was sure. Still, he kept on trying. Violet took out her key, unlocked the door, then stormed into the room with a flashlight she had grabbed somewhere along the way.
"Hello? Neil? Alissa? You guys there?"
"Violet, don't come over here. Please, leave now."
"Violet?" came the Doctor's voice. "Is anyone there?"
"Yes, and it seems that they want us to—" Violet began.
"What? To what?" cried the Doctor.
"To leave. We ought to do that, and quickly, too."
"Is there someone in there?"
"Y—yeah. And they're looking at me funny."
The creatures sitting mere feet from Violet were indeed looking at her funny. Dark tan-and-cream colored, with large pincers near the face and six legs, they closely resembled giant termites.
"Doctor? You better see this."
The Doctor slowly walked down the stairs that led to the basement of the library, a small-ish place where old books were disposed of and files were kept. It was eerily dark, partially because Violet, scared out of her wits, poor girl, had turned off her flashlight, but mostly because the lights didn't work. Violet knew that the lights were supposedly brighter than in the library itself in here, but they weren't working at all. Who knows what those…things had done to them.
Slowly, the man approached the spot where Violet was standing. "Close your eyes and turn on your light," he whispered into her ear. She did as she was told. Hmm, thought the Doctor, a girl who listens to me for once in my life. Good companion material.
When the lights came on, he looked around the room with his own torch and said to the creatures, "Alrighty then, let's get down to business. Who are you, where are you from, and why are you here? This is a Level Five planet, which means that you're not supposed to be here at all."
One of the termite-looking aliens raised it's forearm and said in a raspy, yet recognizably female, voice, "We are the Tellarim, from the planet Ellumbar. Our ship crashed and we were forced to go into hiding, lest the petty humans injured us with their black shrapnel."
While this was going on, Alissa and Neil were sneaking out. Terrified, they decided to wait for their best friend (and their girlfriend's best friend) to be finished just outside the door.
Violet decided that she was no longer afraid of them. They were scared. So was she, but they more than she, so she had the upper hand. "But wait," she said, more to herself than anything, "How could your ship have crashed if there are no recent sitings of anything falling from the sky."
"Yes, oh, and by the way, I'm the Doctor, a Time Lord, and this is a friend of mine, Violet. So, Violet," he began again, "any questions before you solve this?"
"No, I'll ask about the whole Time Lord thing later. But wait!" Violet suddenly exclaimed, "You expect me to solve this?"
"Yup!" said the Doctor, popping the P. "Partially because I believe that you can do it, partially because I'm a bit tired with always solving this kind of thing, and, um," he blushed, "partially because I have no idea what they've got to hide. If you believe that they are lying to us, then that's a serious case against them. They won't be happy, I can guarantee that."
"The truth will set you free," Violet quoted. "But you have to step in if it gets too crazy." She continued, saying, "There's this video game I play called Phoenix Wright. He's a public defender in America who you play as, solving mysteries, sort of, and, even when there's little to no hope, clearing your client's good name!"
"So?" asked the Doctor, not quite seeing the point.
"So, I can use the tactics to figure out if they're lying or not." Turning to the apparent leader of the Tellarim, "Please state your name and rank," she said.
"I am Inshae, the captain of the vessel that landed us upon this desolate planet," replied Captain Inshae.
"Captain Inshae, then?" Violet inquired, just to be on the safe side.
"Captain Inshae, I am, but I prefer that you only call me Inshae. Our people only use ranks to determine status, which I have none of here. I am simply Inshae on this planet."
At that, Violet smiled a petty little smile. If only it worked that way here as well. Maybe people would be kinder to each other.
"Alright, Inshae," Violet continued, "how many crew members did you have onboard when you crashed?"
"Fifteen. The ship burned as it entered this atmosphere, and many died." Inshae sounded grievingly sad, as if she had lost a loved one in the crash.
"So the bodies were incinerated, then? Naturally?" Violet asked the Doctor if this was possible.
"Yes, that must have happened. But what I want to know," he continued grandly, "is how you lot survived and, well, eleven of you didn't."
"Our lost brothers and sisters were not wearing their heat-protective shields," the Tellarim replied. "We were lucky that we were still garbed in the protective fabric of our people."
"Hmm," said the Doctor.
"Hmm indeed." Violet continued for him. "I'd like to see your people's fabric. That'd be really interesting, don't you think, Doctor?" Violet grinned at the Doctor, and he grinned right on back at her, realizing what she was playing at.
"I-I—oh, I'm sorry, I must consult with the other crew members." Inshae stammered.
"While you're at it, I have a map of London with me. Could you point out exactly, or as near to exactness as possible, your chip crashed?" Violet was on a roll.
"Oh—of course. It was about, erm, here. No, here. One of the two."
Ha! Just as she had thought. Violet knew that there was no way that these Tellarim were completely peaceful.
"But, you see," Violet said to the captain Inshae, "I live around here, and there have been no crashes of any kind lately in this area. You landed properly, which means that there were only four of you in total to begin with." She finished strong. "You lied to us, now give us a reason that you lied."
"I—I—" the Tellarim captain stuttered.
"Inshae, may I?" asked another of the Tellarim, this one a bit larger and having a distinct masculine voice. "My name is Mar Heye, and I am the second in command."
"Mar Heye, can you explain to us, please, why your captain lied to us on the matter of your entrance to this planet?" asked Violet, who, while she was acting brilliantly on the outside, the was a little ball of nervousness on the inside.
"No." Mar Heye was obviously going to be a difficult character.
"Can anyone?" Violet was desperate to prove her theory correct, but if none of the Tellarim would tell the truth, then the lie would become the documented truth. "Please, can the two other Tellarim step forward and name themselves?"
Another male Tellarim stepped forward. "I am Flybb Jybb. I am the navigator."
The last of the Ellumbarian Tellarim stepped forward. She had a female voice, quite high-pitched for a Tellarim, and quite small for one as well. The Doctor suspected this one was younger.
"I am Ellinaera, and I am the mechanic.I will tell you why we lied, but only at a price," she said.
Violet asked, "What is your price?"
Ellinaera immediately said, "That you do not turn us in to the Judoon."
"Judoon!" the Doctor practically screamed. "You're running from the Judoon? How could you think that Earth of all places would be safe from the Judoon?!" He was obviously angry; something about his eyes made Violet feel that he had memories of the Judoon. They weren't good, but, from what she saw, the result was nice. He made a new friend. Of course, she's gone now. Oh, Doctor, thought Violet, I bet if you begged then she would come back and keep you company.
"Yes, the Judoon have falsely accused us of theft and are searching for us," said Flybb Jybb.
"No, well, yes and no," said Violet, reminding the Doctor of himself, well, another regeneration, the tenth one."You were accused, but not falsely. Why else would you hide the fact that these Judoon things are looking for you? And besides, it's not like they're going to kill you or anything like that—hey, what the heck?" she whispered, just after being jerked back by the loose neck of her sweater.
"The Judoon execute most prisoners, especially if they run," the Doctor muttered into her ear. Suddenly he sniffed the air and added, "By the way, your hair smells nice."
"Oh—what? Okay, thanks, I guess," Violet, somewhat dazed in slight shock, whispered. "Anyway," she began again, "look. Even if you are thieves, that's all you are. You're no killers. And if what I suppose is true from this bloke's shock is true," she points at the Doctor with her thumb, "then the Judoon will do anything to find their convicts. Am I right?"
"We have found haven in your food-place," said Inshae. "You discard this delicious nutrients? Bah! You humans are such odd creatures!"
"Yes, they are quite…Ood," said the Doctor. He looked around as if he expected the whole room to bust out in laughter. "Oh, um, sorry. Bad joke. Anyway! The point is that you have been eating what?" The Doctor looked confused for a moment, then said, "Oh, Ellumbar. Cellulose-digesters." He turned to Violet. "Have there been any reports of missing books lately?"
"Yes, actually. A bunch of the older books that needed rebinding had gone missing a few weeks ago and also two days ago…oh, you aren't saying that-" Violet began.
"-they've been stealing books to eat." The Doctor finished for her.
Violet shuddered. "That's, erm, interesting."
"If we could find the trees that grow on Ellumbar, we could eat that," Ellinaera pointed out, trying to be helpful and failing miserably.
"What kind of trees?" asked Violet.
"Not the ones from here," answered the Doctor.
"So, basically, these guys have to eat books until they can leave?"
"Yes."
"Oh." Violet looks somewhat depressed at the thought. She must really love books, thought the Doctor. That explains why she enjoys being Junior Librarian. "Okay, so all we have to do is call the Judoon up and let them know we found them hiding, right?"
"Yep, Violet, and that is what we will do," said the Doctor semi-sarcastically. The two walked up the stairs into the light of the library's old lightbulbs.
When they finally get to the door, the Doctor tells Violet, "Lock this door behind us. I'm going to deadlock it just in case those Tellarim have a sonic device, too. That's highly unlikely, though." The two do just that, whilst being stared at by the two teens who, only about five minutes earlier, had retreated up the stairs.
"Oh my God, Violet, I thought you'd finally gone mad," said the blonde-ish red-ish haired girl. "What were you thinking?!"
"I was thinking that I had sort of met this man on my way in who would be able to help us," retorted Violet hotly. "Help you, save your life along with Neil's life too. I care that you two get through everything together, you know!" She seemed close to tears; that would be normal, though, thought the Doctor. She did almost lose her best, and most likely only, friends.
"How did you know I would be able to help, though," said the Doctor, "now that's a question I want answered as soon as humanly possible." He stared accusingly into her pretty, violet-blue eyes.
"Well, for starters," Violet began, "your eyes are too old for your body. Second, the way you carry yourself is highly unusual. You seem to have confidence in yourself and yet you blame yourself and hate yourself for something that happened long ago. Third, you just said down there to the Tellarim that you were a 'Time Lord.' And finally, fourth. You don't seem…natural. There's something about you that isn't right. You seem so sad and heartbroken, but at the same time happy and perky. You are impossible," Violet said. "You must miss her, Doctor." Violet whispered the last bit.
The Doctor was stunned. How did she know that, just being around her, Violet reminded him so much of a past companion, Rose? Just being around Violet was bringing back painful memories of leaving her with his human clone, dropping everyone off at Earth, wiping Donna's memory. That wasn't such a good day. Losing everyone in one fell swoop is never fun. "But…what…how?" He was completely and utterly stunned. Good word for this situation, stunned. The only one that truly fit. "Alrighty, Violet. Here's a paper that says something. Read it off to me." He pulled his slightly psychic paper out of the pocket in his coat and held it out to her.
"Um, nothing. It's just a blank piece of paper," a bemused Violet remarked.
"Vi, you must be in need of a new lens prescription," said Alissa, referring to the brunette's hot pink glasses, "because that clearly says,'bow ties are cool.'"
"Not all that cool," muttered Neil to himself, already feeling a bit left out of all the action.
"Shut up, Neil, and stop being that annoying, jealous anti-Neil that comes out whenever I leave you alone for five minutes," Alissa muttered back to him playfully. Never the less, the backed up and stood by him. Boys are like that, she thought. So annoying and yet so awesome.
"Hmm. That's quite odd. You are the only person, spare Shakespeare, who has been able to know that this paper is blank," said the Doctor a bit eerily.
"Right. So! Let's figure out what— hold on, did you say Shakespeare?" Violet asked.
"Darn, I did, didn't I."
"I love Shakespeare! He wrote the best poetry. My favorite sonnet by him is Sonnet 116: Let me not to the marriage of true minds…oh, it's so sweet!" Violet began to rant a bit, sort of like the Doctor's own techno-babble. "I have it nearly memorized. I've read Romeo and Juliet, oh, Alissa, how many times have I read Romeo and Juliet?" Alissa shrugged. "Um, about three times, I suppose. Tragedy at it's finest. Ah, love stories are so sad sometimes, though."
"Let me not to the marriage of true minds / Admit impediments. Love is not love / Which alters when it alteration finds, / Or bends with the remover to remove," the Doctor began.
Violet continued in reciting the poem, "O no! it is an ever-fixed mark / That looks on tempests and is never shaken; / It is the star to every wandering bark, / Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken."
"Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks / Within his bending sickle's compass come: / Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, / But bears it out even to the edge of doom. / If this be error and upon me proved, / I never writ, nor no man ever loved." The two finished the sonnet together.
"It's a beautiful sonnet. My favorite, too," said a slightly wowed Doctor. She truly reminded him of Rose. Mostly in personality, but there were little habits that Violet had that she shared with Rose; the Doctor had been thinking of Rose more than ever. He said to himself that he was only imagining this girl to be like her. Of course she didn't smile with her tongue stuck between her teeth like Rose did; of course she didn't toy with her hair like Rose. It was just his imagination playing tricks on him.
"Alright, is it just me, or do these two look like a match made in heaven?" Alissa remarked loudly. "Cause I'm thinking of just shoving them in a closet together and not letting them out for ten to twenty minutes, depending."
"Oi, Liss!" Violet squealed. "Shut up!"
Neil, finding a hole in her statement, said, "Depending on what?"
"How much they protest," Alissa stage-whispered evilly.
"Hey! I'm still here, you know, and we have four not-so-nice Tellarim hiding out in the basement of this library and a platoon of Judoon waiting out there to find these things!"The Doctor whisper-screamed. "The Judoon could appear any minute to find their wards. We have to get them off the planet and onto the moon before that happens."
"Why the moon?" Violet wondered aloud.
"Neutral territory; technically, because there are no indigenous lifeforms on the moon, it is considered 'no man's land' and is therefore neutral. If the Tellarim are found here, the employees and everyone else in this library would be punished for harboring fugitives, but if found there, on the moon, only the four Tellarim will be punished. So, if we want this general area of the Earth to remain unscathed, then we should probably go back down there and tell them this."
So, Violet and the Doctor reopened the door to the basement and walked down the staircase slowly, making sure that they weren't stepping on half-eaten books. Ew, thought Violet. Seriously, why would anyone eat books?
As they finally reached the four Tellarim, Violet broke the news. "Alright, Inshae, Flybb Jybb, Mar Heye, and Ellinaera, you have to take your ship and fly it to the moon as soon as possible. If you are really just thieves and not killers, you will understand that the Judoon will kill everyone in this building if you are found here, so you must take yourselves to the moon to prevent this."
Sighing, Inshae replied, saying, "Yes, we understand. While we may be convicted criminals, we four Tellarim are incapable of killing. But," she added, "we have a single request before we depart."
"And that would be?" asked the Doctor.
"A book for each of us to eat on our way."
Violet nearly refused them, but instead the went to a pile of books and drew out four. "Here," she said. To Ellinaera, she handed a book called The Paris Hat. "I've never read this one, but I hope that you like the taste of vintage. I love the smell, don't you?"
Ellinaera agreed, nodding her termite-like head fervently.
To Flybb Jybb, she handed an old dictionary. "This one is pretty big; do you think you can eat it all?" she joked.
To Mar Heye, she handed a copy of Pride and Prejudice. "May this beautiful book be delicious in your eyes— er, mouth. Whatever."
And, finally, to Inshae, she handed a book called A Journal of Impossible Things. "Oh, I love this book. It's a bit newer, too. This is the only copy they have in the library, but I have one I can donate. If you want to read it first, you may. The story is quite sad, actually. May bring you to tears," Violet warned.
"I will treasure it, at least, until I eat it," Inshae said in reply, trying to lighten the mood.
"Wait, did you say A Journal of Impossible Things?" the Doctor asked surprisedly.
"Yes. I love that story! So incredibly incredible! Oh, it reminds me of a poem I wrote. It got lost, though. I didn't save it. It's fine; I can rewrite it, I just don't want to," babbled Violet. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason," he replied adamantly, obviously attempting to evade the question. "Anyway, these guys thought start heading for the moon now. The Judoon don't wait."
The small Ellinaera stood and walked over to the Doctor and said, "We cannot launch our ship from here. We must wait until nightfall."
"Oi, but like the Doctor said, you need to get out now! This entire building is full of little children who don't even know that they are in danger. If they die at the hands of the Judoon, then I swear to God, you will regret not having the damn courage to go out in public looking like an overgrown termite!" Violet exclaimed angrily.
"Violet, calm down. Although," the Doctor said, "she does have a point. If the Judoon find you here, it will mean the death of all the kids and adults, everyone else here, and you. If it were possible for you to do something…"
"Oh! Doctor, in about a half hour, there's a little convention for sci-fi lovers here. People will be dressed up in cosplay left and right, despite how small this place is," Violet exclaimed, suddenly very pleased with herself.
"Perfect!" shouted the Doctor. "That's brilliant!" He ran up to her and have her small figure a hug, picking her up in the process.
"Ah!" she laughed. "Doctor, put me down!"
—Somewhere behind the Fourth Wall…—
A gray humanoid figure with candy corn-like horns and black hair sat in a small chair, intently watching the scene unfold through the fourth wall when she randomly screamed out, "Now, kiss!"
A man walked out of the back room. "Stalker Troll, isn't this the wrong fandom?"
"Shut up, I'm shipping," said the gray figure, Stalker Troll, sulkily. "Besides, don't you agree that they're, like, completely perfect?"
"No. Now go to the right fandom."
"Sorry. Nope!" And at that, Stalker Troll dashed off, presumably to find a heavy object to break the fourth wall, quite literally, with.
—Sorry for that little interruption. Now, back to the story…—
The Doctor dropped Violet, suddenly aware how much like Rose she was acting just then. "Sorry," he mumbled. Violet immediately felt sorry, thinking that she had hurt his feelings, but he continued what he was doing just before. "So, half an hour, you said? Why don't we help set up," he said as he walked over to the staircase and past Violet.
She watched him open the door and slip out into the main library. "Oh, Doctor. I guess I remind you of her," Violet said to herself. "Don't worry; I'll be gone soon." With that, she followed him up the stairs.
Once there, Violet grabbed the Doctor (almost by his collar when he began to drag his feet), looked for Mrs. Addens and found her near the Great Wall of Geography and Maps. "Hey Lilith, my friend and I were wondering if we could help set up for the little convention being held here this afternoon."
"Oh, of course, Violet," Lilith said, "but may I ask whom your friend is?"
"Oh, um, his name is Mark," said Violet, gesturing towards the Doctor in a way meant to be seen as 'here he is' but to the Doctor also as 'go along with this, okay?'
"Hello, Mark. I haven't seen you in town before, are you new?"
"Why, yes," the Doctor said, extending his hand for a handshake. "Pleasure to meet you."
"Why don't you two head over to the front desk and get the tables pushed to the sides?" asked Mrs. Addens. Then, to Violet, she said, "Oh, darling, wait a tick. I have something to ask you."
"Oh, okay. Mark, don't wait for me, I'll be there as quick as I can!"
"Right," said the Doctor as he walk-ran up to the entrance.
"So," Lilith began, "is he your boyfriend?"
"No!" cried Violet. "No, not at all!"
"Well, I think he's handsome. Handsome and polite, he is; now that's a good combination, and one you don't see all the time. Now, I've known you since you were young, and I know you have trouble making friends, so I was just wondering, that's all. Go and hurry up; I have a feeling that Mark will need help positioning the tables."
Violet said, "Okay, see you later, Lilith!" Then she dashed off to catch up with the Doctor. She finally did when she found him by a small shelf, with a book of Shakespeare's sonnets in his hand, open to Sonnet 116.
"That poem really is your favorite," said Violet, startling the Doctor.
"Oh! Oh, just you, Violet." He looked at her and said, "By the way, Mark? Really?"
"Well, I was contemplating John, as in John Smith, but then I thought it too cheesy, so I went with an impulsive choice. Monosyllabic and easy to remember, unique enough for it not to be cliché and common enough for it not to be odd. Perfect!"
"Funny, I always use John Smith as an alias, except one time when I visited Scotland on accident and I used the name James McCrimmon."
"Oi. Be unique!" Violet said loudly and with much emphasis.
The pair of them walked towards the entrance and the main desk with the tables for the convention, talking about just about anything, from science to literature to the stupidest and best things about the human race. They talked about life and the things in it; they talked about traveling and how much fun it is. But somehow, through all that talking, they learned little to nothing about one another.
They finally reached the area of the library where the convention was being held. Five other people were already moving tables and chairs and hanging banners. Violet walked up to one of them and asked them, "Do you need any extra help with anything? I'm the Junior Librarian, Violet, and this is a friend of mine, Mark."
The woman said, "Nice to meet you two. I'm Eleanor. Could you clean these tables off with some wet wipes? You probably know where they are."
"Of course I do; being Junior Librarian basically means shelving books and cleaning up after messy five-year-olds. Come on, Mark, I'll show you where they are." Violet and the Doctor walked over to the front desk and Violet opened the cabinet just below the keyboard for the computer and pulled out two large containers of wet wipes. Handing one container to the Doctor, she said, "These things are finger murderers, so here's one that's pre-opened. I know a special trick on how to prevent losing a finger to a wet wipes container." The Doctor gratefully took the outstretched container.
"So, what's the trick, then? I've nearly lost fingers in the process a couple of times," the Doctor joked.
"It wouldn't be a secret if I told you," Violet replied, all the while using a pencil to stick the wipe up the dispenser hole.
Seeing Violet use the eraser to sneakily fix the dispenser, the Doctor teasingly said, "Ha! You use a pencil!"
"Darn, my top-secret secret is out for the world to know and use," said Violet sarcastically. "C'mon, let's hop to it and clean these off. The quicker we can get the convention started, the sooner we can get those Tellarim out of here."
It took them a good ten minutes, but the two cleaned the tables and cleaned them well. They made quite a good team; they decided to have a contest. Whoever cleaned the most tables—properly!—got to stay at the convention for a bit, while the loser had to grab the Tellarim and prepare them for leaving. But, as you may have guessed already, Violet, being the Junior Librarian whose job was often cleaning up before closing up, had the upper hand, and won.
"Ha!" she nearly shouted when they met 'in the middle,' which was more towards the left side of the room. "You have to go back down with the Tellarim! And I'll be up here having a great time talking to people in really cool cosplay and stuff." Realizing that it was going to be a difficult party-like event, and believe me, Violet was rubbish at parties, she added, "Be quick. The Judoon could be here any minute."
Now, let's just go a bit farther into depth on Violet's rubbish-ness at parties. She was a bit anti-social, you see. She had trouble making friends and talking to people, you know, stuff like that. Her only real friends were Alissa, Neil, and an old friend whose family moved to America when the two of them were fourteen. His name was Walter. She e-mailed him plenty, and the two of them were very close. He had the funniest theories about the probability of time travel and how the book Jurassic Park could actually happen someday. And while Violet had all these brilliant friends, she couldn't seem to bring herself to speak to anyone. Perhaps it was only a self-made restriction. Who knows?
Fast-forward about five minutes, and about fifty people were in attendance for the mini convention, over half wearing Star Trek outfits or some other type of cosplay. Some had on costumes from Breaking Bad; Violet herself saw a tall man dressed as the robot from Futurama.
Meanwhile, the Doctor was speaking with the four Tellarim.
"Inshae, it's time to leave," he said to the captain when he had reached the bottom of the stairs.
"We have prepared our ship; we must only carry it up and out," said Inshae, while Flybb Jybb and Heye Mar carried their rocket into the main room of the basement.
"Ooh, that thing is tiny!" the Doctor said excitedly, almost like a little boy on Christmas morning. "How does it work? Miniaturization beam? Oh, nice! Teselecta-style miniaturization. That's brilliant!"
"When can we leave, Doctor?" asked Ellinaera.
"I've got an idea. Why don't you all board this ship and I'll just carry it out? It it tiny, after all. We really could have done that earlier," said the Doctor. The Tellarim each poked a code of buttons on a watch looking thing, appearing similar in style to a vortex-manipulator, and disappeared into the tiny ship. An intercom voice sounding like Inshae's rasp came on.
"We are ready. Bring us outside. Over," it said.
"Right! Let's go. I'll just go grab Violet," the Doctor said loudly.
He dashed madly through the library. Ha! thought the Doctor. I wonder if this place was built by Time Lords; it certainly feels as if it's bigger on the inside. He passed the Great Wall of Historical Fiction, Mount Fantasy, and the Isle of Autobiographies. Each and every section had
such a cutesy name. The Doctor wondered whether Violet, when she was young, had a part in naming them.
He finally made it up to the front and, while still running, grabbed Violet's arm. "Gotta go, Vi. I can call you Vi, right? Anyway, gotta go, you're coming." He dragged her out of the library before she could wave to Lilith Addens and let her know that she was leaving.
"Oi, now Lilith's gonna kill me for leaving without her permission!" complained Violet whilst being dragged through London by her arm. "And you can loosen your grip on my arm. Oww!"
The Doctor let go of her arm. "Sorry," he said apologetically. "Where should we go to see these guys off?" he asked.
"Well, why not my front yard?" Violet asked. "Fenced in, mum's not home, and I think you'd like the garden, too," she added.
"Right. Why not?" So they walked for about, oh, three minutes, talking about something, when the two of them just stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, stopped talking, and looked at each other, bored out of their minds. Suddenly, Violet grinned and ran as fast as she could in her slip-ons towards her house. "Ha!" the Doctor laughed at the challenge, then raced after her. They arrived at Violet's house only a few minutes later, panting like dogs.
"You're fast," said the Doctor, still breathing heavily.
Violet replied, "Same to you." Then she straightened up again and unlocked the white front gate, letting the Doctor and herself in. The delicate scent of roses in full bloom washed over them. Pink and yellow roses filled in circles placed all over the lawn. "I love roses, don't you?" she asked.
"Y-yeah, I love roses…especially pink ones. And yellow ones. Those are my favorite," the Doctor said distantly, almost as if he weren't even there.
"You okay?" Violet asked, concern in her voice.
"I'm fine. Let's let these Tellarim go," said the Doctor as he lifted his hands slightly in a gesture to throw the small ship into the air. Violet put her hands under his, and the two of them threw the ship into the air with as much force as possible.
"Goodbye!" shouted Violet.
The Tellarim ship seemed to wave goodbye, then blinked away to the moon. Suddenly, a platoon of Judoon landed right in front of Violet's house, and Judoons stormed out of it, shouting orders in their odd, guttural language. The TARDIS, wherever it was, still had control over the translator, though, so Violet and the Doctor (even thought the Doctor spoke Judoon) could understand them. "Where are the four criminals?" they asked loudly.
"We sent them away to the moon," Violet said. "Didn't you check there?" The Doctor nearly face-palmed. If the situation was any less serious, he would have.
"Human female charged with harboring a fugitive. Found guilty. Punishment: death," the same Judoon said, raising its gun.
"Watch out!" the Doctor shouted and pulled Violet away just in time for her to avoid severe injury. Her left arm still sustained a burn and began to bleed. "No, no, no," he said, "you can't just shoot someone. Go fly off to the moon and fetch those Tellarim."
To his complete and utter surprise, they did just that. "Oww," Violet moaned, "my arm's killing me." Blood had already seeped into her heather gray sweater, staining it an odd shade of grayish-red. "And I really liked this sweater," she added poutingly.
"Vi, I can get one even better than that one from the TARDIS wardrobe, but you've got to come with me," said the Doctor. When Violet simply would not stand, he carried her bride-style into the TARDIS. He laid sat her down in one of the console chairs and ran off to find a medical kit for human third-degree burns. The TARDIS instantly felt pity for the poor human child and helped the Doctor find the first aid kit, twisting her maze to assist him. In an instant, he found himself back in the console room with some warm water, two washcloths, a small pen knife, a squeeze bottle of salve, and a big roll of gauze. He slowly cut her sweater off at the shoulder and slowly, carefully, tugged it off her bloody, scabby arm, being cautious about yanking it off, reopening the wound and therefore making Violet cry out in pain. He just wouldn't be able to bear being the cause of a poor, innocent human's pain, especially one as sweet and kind as Vi. He finally got the sleeve of her loose sweater off and stared in shock at the injury. Her arm was bloody and bleeding still and hot to the touch. As he saw how bad the burn was, her blanched a bit, then reasserted himself for Violet's sake. He had to mend her arm, or he would feel terrible. He'd already lost the Ponds; his emotional state wasn't exactly calm and collected.
The Doctor had read up on healing burns a while back. Apparently, there was a study done that proved that warm water prevented scarring better than cool or cold water. He dipped one cloth into the water to clean the blood off of her wound and cool her skin off. Repeating this step several times, he soon had her arm nice and clean. He took the other cloth and dried her skin off so that the salve would not wash off. Carefully, the Doctor smoothed it over the burn, noting its large size and temperature that was still a bit too warm. Then, he took the gauze and wrapped her arm up, not so tight as to restrict the blood flow to her arm (that really wouldn't be good at all) but just tight enough to stifle the bleeding. Thanking whatever deity was listening that Vi was wearing a dress underneath her sweater, he pulled the rest of it off and disposed of it. He decided to go find a sweater as close to the original in the TARDIS's wardrobe, so that her big gauze cast wouldn't be as noticeable.
"Wha-? Where am I" asked Violet to herself as she opened her eyes, and she noticed that her sweater was missing, it was a bit chilly wherever she was, and her left arm hurt like hell. It was also encased in gauze tape. "Where's my sweater?" She looked down to her left a bit and saw its sleeve on the floor, soaked through with blood. Her eyes widened. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, I almost died back there. Where's the Doctor?" Violet's head swung back and forth, searching the room for this strange man that, for one reason or another, she had trusted with all but her life, maybe even that. "Doctor?" she shouted. "Where are you?"
The Doctor heard her yells and, having found two sweaters that looked relatively similar to Violet's, just took both and came running. "Violet? I'm coming! Don't get up!" The latter was shouted a bit too late, as Violet had tried to get up and only succeeding in toppling onto the ground. "Vi, you okay?" he asked as he dashed into the console room, ever so slightly out of breath.
She grinned. "Yeah, as okay as I'm going to get, for a person who almost died," joked Violet. "Where did the rest of my sweater go, and why are you holding two very similar ones?" asked she. "Actually," Violet added, "the one on the left is the same as mine. Put the other one up, will you?"
The Doctor sarcastically saluted her and said, "Yes, sir!"
"Oi!" she cried indignantly as the Doctor burst into laughter. "I am not a sir!" He only laughed harder. Suddenly, though, he stopped and looked at her seriously. "What?" she asked inquisitively.
"How is your arm?" asked the Doctor.
Violet laughed. "Which one do you mean? This one," she gestured with her right arm, "feels fine, although this other one," she moved her left elbow a bit, "feels horrible." Seeing the worried look on the man's face, though, she hurriedly added, "Although not quite as horrible as it did earlier."
He tossed her the sweater she had said was the same as hers. "Good," said the Doctor. "I'll take you back to the library now." With that, he helped Violet to get her sweater on and lifted her out of the console chair, letting her lean on him for support; after all, she had lost a decent amount of blood, and was a bit faint. When they left the TARDIS and were just outside of that little blue box, Violet turned around and what she saw astounded her.
"That was a really, really big building," she said. The Doctor nodded. "But, if that's true, how did we just leave a tiny box? It's— it's—"
"Go on," he encouraged Violet. "Say it. Everyone does."
"It's dimensionally transcendent?" The Doctor looked at Violet, shocked.
"What?" he asked.
"Yes, well," explained Violet, "that is the only logical explanation." The Doctor's jaw nearly hit the ground. "What?"
"No one has ever been able to figure that out without my help. How did you?"
"I don't know. I guess I just…guessed?" Violet shrugged. "C'mon, I need to get back to the library." At that, she nearly dragged him a few feet, then fell back onto him, still faint from the giant burn on her upper arm.
He, the Doctor, helped get Violet back to the library, where he asked her, "Have you ever wondered what it would be like to travel in time?"
"Of course!" she exclaimed. "If I could, I'd like to visit Shakespeare, and Laura Ingalls Wilder, and maybe even go and see the future, whether they really replace books with electronics or not. Oh, would that be horrible! I'd be out of a job!" Violet began to wander from her original point.
The Doctor interrupted her, saying, "You know that machine I took you to?"
"Yes?" she said.
"It's a time-and-space machine called the TARDIS. And Vi," said the Doctor, a bit sadly, "I'm lonely. All of time and space, but for what, if you have no one to share it with?" Violet looked at him in a new light.
"You said you were a Time Lord…what does that mean?" Vi asked gently.
"I'm from another planet, the planet of Gallifrey. It was lost in the Last Great Time War, a war no one won. I'm not only a thousand-year-old alien, I'm the last of my kind. The rest were lost in the war," he said bitterly. Regretting her question, Violet hugged the Time Lord viciously in an attempt to make him feel better. Of course, it was in vain, but she didn't really care.
She let go and said, "Here, I'll make you a cup of tea when we get back to my house. Lilith can handle the library for a bit without me." He guided the two of them back to Violet's house. Violet grabbed a teabag and a small cup. The Doctor helped her boil some water in a small kettle, and poured it into the cup for her. She dropped the teabag into the cup and handed it to the Doctor. "Careful, it's hot."
"Alright." He stirred it around a bit with a spoon he'd grabbed when Vi wasn't watching him. "So, being an old alien, I get sort of…lonely, sometimes. I've lost many friends, and in the end, I'm just very lonely." The Doctor exhaled loudly. "Would you like to travel with me for a bit?" He looked up (well, down) at Violet hopefully.
She coyly smiled back and teasingly said, "Maybe."
"Oh, just tell me!" cried the Doctor in mock annoyance.
She thought a moment to herself. "Well," she said, "I quite like my job and the benefits of it, and if I left right now without telling Alissa and Neil, they'd kill me, and I'd miss them plenty. Come back exactly a year from today. Keep the tea; that will be my proof that your TARDIS really does travel in time. But," she said with a wink, "don't be late!"
The Doctor, in response, said, "I should stay with you for a bit to make sure that your burn gets all fixed up."
"You can if you'd like, but you really don't have to. My mum's a nurse." Violet gave him a look that said, 'I'm fine, don't worry about me!' He sighed.
"Fine. I'll come back exactly a year from today and pick you up. But," he warned, "make sure you have everything you're going to bring. I'm a time traveler; I don't like waiting." He hugged her and asked one last time, "Are you sure you're going to be alright?"
"Yes, yes, I'll be perfectly fine! Now shoo!" Violet made shooing motions with her hands.
"Okay, okay!" The Doctor's hands went up in faux surrender. Then he waved goodbye and said, "See you in a few minutes!"
"See you in a year!" Vi shouted back at him when he was almost around the block. Then, she sighed, and prepared a letter for Walter, colorfully depicting all that had occurred in that amazing, crazy day. She grabbed an envelope and a few stamps and put it in the mailbox.
—Meanwhile, across the Fourth Wall…—
Stalker Troll was highly vexed with this climax. "No, no, no! I honestly don't care that this isn't my fandom! Violet should have gone with the Doctor immediately!" She screamed and shouted so loudly that the same man from before appeared behind her.
"Shhhh, calm down. And please don't throw that lamp at the wall, I've fortified the wall portal for this fandom so that you can't break through." He patted her head.
"Andrew, you suck horns. I guess I just need to find something heavier." Stalker Troll looked around the small, dark room, and exclaimed, "Gog, you'd think there'd be at least a table in here!" She stormed into the back room again and searched for a pickaxe. "Aha!" she shouted as she pulled it out. "Good thing I always keep it back here, even when stupid Hussey confiscates it." The last bit was said using sarcastic quote-fingers.
She dashed out, but just as she was about to smash it, Andrew slammed into her. "Shame on you, Stalker Troll!" he shouted. "This is not your fandom to screw around with! If you want to screw around with this one, talk to Moffat!"
"Alrighty," said the troll pompously, "I do believe I will." She dropped the pickaxe and sauntered away.
"Dear Lord, what have I done?" Andrew worriedly murmured.