Hey guys! So before you start, I need you guys to know that I am not a Whovian.But I got this idea and I had to do it, so I'm sorry. I got a lot of help from my friend Daniel, who is also test reading my chapters to make sure I get the Doctor spot on. Thanks for reading guys, reviews would be appreciated :)

Barbara Gordon sat at her desk, eyes glued to the final page of her favourite novel, "The Hound of the Baskervilles".
"Might I trouble you then to be ready in half an hour, and we can stop at Marcini's for a little dinner on the way?"

She let out a short sigh, snapping the book shut with a small clap. She felt a small draft hit her shoulder, slipping through her thin pyjamas, sending shivers down her spine, and sending small hairs to tickle her face. She pushed them back over her ear, glancing out the window. Was Nightwing out there tonight? She shook her head. She had to stop thinking of him. She wasn't his anymore, nor was he hers.
Yet every morning she woke up, she wondered what he was doing, and every night, she worried as to how he was fairing in the cruel underworld. She missed him. Unbearably. But she knew he could have someone better now. Someone more compatable. She pushed the stiff wheels of her chair towards her bed, locking them and sighing once again, more happily this time.

Bed was one of those places she felt independant. It was a small thing that didn't change after her...accident. Since she had lost her ability to walk, things with Dick had gone...downhill. She felt completely unable to relate anymore.
She wasn't the gymnastic, strong, elegant Batgirl she once was.
She was Oracle now.
No gymnastics. No strength. Maybe a little bit of elegance. As much as can come from her permanently seated position, at least. Dick had been supportive at first, constantly attempting to help her in any way he could. But it kind of...stopped. She began to realize how incompatable they were.
He was a high flying hero.

She was a human library.

It wasn't the same. She couldn't even show herself off to him anymore. It was too difficult. She tried sometimes, wearing outfits that showed off her assets, but he never paid attention. She assumed he had found someone else. Someone more intelligent, more compatable, more understanding, more beautiful.
That had become a huge part of her life. Not only was she lost without him. She felt hideous. She watched her former co-heroes and saw them in a new light, that ignored all their battle scars and imperfections. She didn't see them.

All she saw was her own.

The way her glasses dug into the bridge of her nose, how one brow arched a little more than the other, her permanent look of concentration, her complexion, even her weight had begun to bug her. She didn't feel like the curvy, beautiful, appealing bat she once was.

She felt like a lump of stress, fear, angst and ugly. She wasn't sure how she sould deal with it. So she just didn't. She ignored it, focused on her work, read in her alone time and avoided mirrors as much as she could.

She pushed herself up delicately as possible, trying not to hurt herself. She moved herself across to her bed, allowing herself to flop back, stretching her upper body and closing her eyes tight. It was a chilly night, one that deserved company. She pulled her weight up her double bed, as far as her pillow, before relaxing once again. She took off her glasses and folded them carefully. She felt the quiet lull of sleep come to her quickly, and she nodded off faster than she had in a long time.

She woke up, wide awake faster than she'd care to admit, remaining still. She heard something.
No.
Someone.
She knew not to move. She had to wait. She saw the lights flicker through her closed lids. She heard shuffling, the sound of whispers. Hurried nonsense. She felt around slowly underneath her pillow. She knew better than to sleep without protection. She felt the tazer and clutched it.
"Why here? Why now? I don't know! What's wrong? Bugger!"
She heard a man, a British man.
Penguin?
No, he wasn't as elegant.
"Wait, "bugger"? Did I really just say "bugger"?!" Was "cor" or "blimey" or even "bloody hell" too obvious for me!" She heard shuffling, presumably as he turned around. "Oh, I like this room.."
No one else came to mind. She turned slightly, opening her eyes just a little bit, enough to be able to see from the corner of her eye.
It was a man. His back was to her, all she could make out was a suit, a sandy brown, and dark brown hair. And then she spotted what she should have noticed first.
Nestled by her window, clear as day.
A very large, very blue Police box.