Little inconsequential A/N:
I'm part way though planning a story featuring Amy, Rory, Eleven and a charater called Bella, but i've got to the point where I'm struggling to fully actualise her as a character. This is partially an exercise in the first person narrative, and a bit of character development. I've found myself really enjoying writing it as well. I hope you enjoy :)
1.
I first met the Doctor by accident like everyone does: I was celebrating my eighteenth birthday with a couple of friends at the trendy wine bar round the corner. It was a double celebration really; I'd just been accepted to further my learning in science, specialising in genetic studies. To say I was excited would be an understatement.
There were five of us sat around the table; a good old fashioned night out with the girls, just like the old times on Earth. We'd gotten dressed up to the nines and headed to the darker side of Visiku to drink cocktails under the light of the moons. A fair few people were scattered around the bar, and I was half way though my second Mojito when I noticed him.
He was hunched right at the end of the bar where the lighting was its dimmest. I stared; from the ancient trainers to the long brown jacket covering a well worn pinstriped suit, he seemed not of this world. I could only just make out an expression that suited his general demeanour: Stony.
I watched him for a few minutes gingerly lifting his arm and sniffing the amber coloured liquid in the whisky tumbler he had been nursing. He didn't once take a sip in the time that I watched, but raised the glass to his lips five or six times. My friend Jessica had noticed him as well and suggested I go speak to him as he was "like, so your type! Skinny, broody and interesting." Whether it was the alcohol or my friends edging me on I approached him, tottering over to the bar in my exceedingly high heels and stupidly inappropriate skirt.
"You okay?" I asked tentatively, "You've been nursing that drink for ages."
He raised his head slowly and in the process moved ever so slightly into the light. I was struck by the sadness in his eyes; he looked like someone who had lived a thousand lives with the innocence of a child, but carried the burden of the world on his shoulders. Maybe that's me being a little too rhetorical, with the knowledge that I have now, but I can certainly say he'd been crying.
"The name's Bella," I said smiling, sticking out a hand for him to shake. He acknowledged my hand was there, but made no attempt to reciprocate my greeting. "Do you have a name, or am I going to have to console myself with the fact this conversation is becoming increasingly one-sided?"
I caught the slightest glimmer of a smile at this, and perched on the empty barstool next to him.
"Doctor," He whispered. "I'm the Doctor."