Disclaimer: Rights? Of course I own the Rights. I own the Wrongs and the Rights. No one just owns the Rights. Everyone owns both the Wrongs and the Rights. Some own more of the Wrongs, some more or the Rights. Depends on the person….oh, wait, you we talking about Rights as in Rights of a show…oh well, I don't own those…

Author's Note: This is for all my followers of my 'Doctor Who the TV Show' fanfic. Hopefully it will be as good as that one. This fanfic is exploring another concept that I've had in my head for a while. Anyway, if yah have any questions or comments please review or PM me. Enjoy.

Things never go right with the Doctor. That was a fact that Donna Noble was just now getting a hold of. Something almost always had to go wrong. Something has to make life 'interesting.' It can't ever be easy. As the old saying goes, "Life's unfair, and then you die." Not that these twists in events are always bad. Sometimes they can make things quite remarkable.

Another thing that Donna was starting to learn during her travels with the infamous Doctor is that even that wacky Time Lord, the owner of the TARDIS, doesn't always have full control of his spaceship, or time machine, or whatever he wanted to call it. It had already taken them somewhere without permission once and that what it was doing again…

They had just stepped on after watching the 795th annual meteor shower on Alpar 55, just then getting the spots out of their eyes from watching amazingly bright bits of rock fall from the sky, when it happened. The TARDIS gave one almighty lurch, knocking both experienced travelers off their feet. Before they knew what was happening the TARDIS was barreling through the time vortex at full speed.

"What?" exclaimed the Doctor as he got up, staggered over to the control panel, clinging to it like a life raft, and stared at the screen. "The TARDIS is piloting itself."

"Duh. I gathered that bit," replied Donna grabbing onto one of the coal-like pillars. "But why? Is it like last time…you know the paradox thing with Martha?"

"I don't know…possibly," responded the Doctor, still gazing at the screen.

There were a few more moments of painful jostling, when the TARDIS gave another powerful lurch, knocking them once again off their feet. Afterwards, and quite abruptly, everything was still. The space was filled with a strange silence with only the humming of the ship settling in the air.

"So…Where are we?" questioned Donna getting to her feet.

Not that she was worried all that much, more shocked and curious than anything else. Things had been or could've been worse. Sure there was the possibly of a dangerous planet out there, but that was all in a day's work with the Doctor.

"No clue…," answered the Time Lord steadying himself.

He then took a quick look over his ship's control panel, obviously checking for any major damage. But as far as either of them could see, there was none. It was at this point that the Doctor turned towards his companion and said, "Let's take a look shall we?"

Donna smiled in response. That was the thing with the Doctor. Possible danger and mystery always made him saturation with joy and fascination, a quality that couldn't help but rub off on Donna herself. Enthusiasm flared in her chest, and it was with that the two travelers walked arm in arm out the door of the TARDIS.

))))

She was a stranger. The Clammes didn't know exactly what to do with her, honestly. She had appeared out of nowhere and collapsed on their doorstep. They thought about taking her to the nearest hospital, but that was a ten minute drive away and they didn't have the petrol money to take her there and back. So the Clammes settled on calling over the local physician to take a look at her.

The physician was an elderly man and specialized manly on illness of old age, since the only younger residence of the village usually ended up driving to the hospital rather than calling him. No one had real confidence in the man. There had been a few deaths that people thought he had caused, while others complained that he didn't know enough about modern medicine to give true and recent diagnoses and treatments. But despite these doubts about the physician, the Clammes really had no choice but to call him in.

You see, the Clammes were of a caring sort. They were an older couple, both recently retired school teachers. They were the kind of people that gave to charity every chance they got, offered money and sometimes sweets to homeless, as well as volunteering for almost everything they had the time for. Unfortunately, because they were both school teachers and the pay for that occupation wasn't very high, their cash flow was limited. That was the reason why they couldn't afford to take the stranger to the hospital, instead phoning the aforementioned physician.

He came when he was called, arriving contently at the door of the Clammes' cozy abode. The building was a quaint little house on a hill with a blooming garden in the back and a modest car in the front. They lived on the outer part of town. So it was a testament to the small size of the village to say that the Clammes lived only a 30 minute walk to city hall in the center of town.

Robin Clamme greeted the physician on his third knock and showed him inside. She explained that her husband, Ron, was outside tending to the vegetable patch, then led the way through the sitting room and a hallway, both covered in old fashioned wallpaper and pictures of past memories, and to the guestroom where the stranger was located.

Mrs. Clamme opened the door to the room and revealed the said stranger lying in the bed of the little space. Comparatively the place was only a tad smaller than the Clammes own bedroom. As mentioned before, their home is fairly small. The guestroom's walls, on the other hand, were covered in a light flowery pattern, giving the feeling that the area was bigger than it actually was.

The well worn thread-bare carpet tried vainly to cushion the physician's footsteps as he slowly made his way to the stranger's bedside. He casually observed her like she was an odd abstract work of art. She looked like she was in her early thirties. Her shoulder-length hair was brown and her frame was thin. So skinny in fact that the nightgown that Mrs. Clamme said she had put the woman in, appeared to be engulfing her in cotton floral cloth along with the accompanying sheets. The stranger looked pale and there was something about her presence that seemed unsettling yet comforting at the same time.

The physician then asked Mrs. Clamme to retrieve the woman's clothes, muttering something about possible medication in her pockets or even an ID or phone number they could call. The older woman agreed and departed, leaving the physician all alone with the stranger.

He then got to work.

First, he set down his black bag on the nightstand, and took out his well used stethoscope. He put it on and with practiced care, he placed the end on the right side her the woman's chest. He then listened to the steady thump, thump of her healthy beat.

"Her heart is fine," noted the physician to himself.

He moved the end of the stethoscope to the other side of her chest, intending to check her lungs, but instead he heard…thump, thump.

"That's odd…," he muttered.

At that moment Mrs. Clamme came back with the stranger's clothes. The physician, confused, turned away from the younger woman and gazed at the odd assortment of garments in the older woman's hands. There was a button down blouse and a tie that accompanied a fitted brown pinstripe pants suit. Normal enough if it wasn't for the long trench and converse that Mrs. Clamme was also carrying.