A/N: At the time this story takes place, everything through "The Big Bang" has aired. Our characters will reference Series One through Five, as well as a bit of Classic Doctor Who.
If you don't like the first chapter, just stick with us a little longer: we develop as the story goes on.
We don't own Doctor Who in novel, episode, or soundtrack form. We don't own any piece of popular culture referred or alluded to (including but not limited to David Tennant, Lord of the Rings, Wicked, Lewis Carroll, Pippi Longstocking, or the Bible).
Author key (EXTREMELY IMPORTANT):
Italics is Grace Anscombe's perspective (Zoe Alice Latimer)
Normal (vaguely) is Tegan Young's perspective (Sara Eleanor Rose)
Let me tell you something.
Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever wish for excitement. Trust me, just don't. Ever.
Under any circumstances. You think your life is boring? Good for you! Lucky.
Don't get me wrong, some excitement is fine. Like when somebody brings you cake unexpectedly. That's excitement I could live with. Or when your favorite actor makes a guest appearance on a TV show you love. I get excited when that happens. Doesn't everyone? Well, you should.
Or when you finally find the courage to tell your true love you, well, love her, and she actually loves you back.
Or him. Didn't mean to exclude anyone there. But my point is, some excitement is good. Just…not the kind of excitement we seem to keep experiencing. Stupid Doctor. Well, that's not fair, it's not his fault. Okay, a little. Well...anyway.
It really shouldn't have happened in the first place. It's all a bit timey-wimey, really. I mean, the episodes air, and three years later, they happen. Or maybe they haven't happened yet.
That's the problem with time travel: you can never be sure whether you're remembering the past or the future. Very impractical, in my opinion. My humble, yet pompous, opinion.
Speak for yourself.
Hush, you.
You've already spoken twice as much as I have. Not fair. I was just as involved as you.
Yes, but I have such a way with words. Anyway, it all started when I got a Facebook page and decided, "Hey, it might be fun to find somebody called Harold Saxon and harass him!" Brilliant idea, right?
Ah, you have such a way with brains!
And again, hush you!
I'm merely agreeing with you.
Can't you agree with me in a way that isn't belittling me?
Oh, you used belittling. I'm gonna have a field day with that!
I meant, belittling my character! Blimey, why've you got to take everything so literally?You know what? Never mind. We're getting off track. Perhaps our readers would appreciate it if we actually explained ourselves. We apologize; we've been with the Doctor for so long that we've picked up his habit of speaking for hours and saying nothing at all.
So to recap, Tegan—
Not Jovanka, in case you were wondering.
—had a brilliant streak and harassed someone calling himself Harold Saxon.
Well, I couldn't help myself! His page was listed under "government official," and he started posting about the Lazarus Project!
We didn't know Doctor Who is real. At the time, anyway. And it was after Saxon responded to her messages that we heard the TARDIS.
Well, of course we did what any fan would do. We went running outside to find it! Grace, of course, was hollering, "Doctor!" I had a little more decorum than that. I smacked a hand over Grace's BIIIG mouth and uttered my catchphrase: "Hush, you." I walked up to the TARDIS, trying to think how best to get inside. And it hit me.
"There's a key."
"What?" Grace came running up behind me.
"There's a key in one of those P's up there."
"No way," she said with an almost manic smile.
Because the TARDIS is taller than we are, we realized getting the key would have to be a team effort.
The key turned out to be a great deal like the One Ring, as we promptly double-crossed each other, fighting tooth and nail for possession.
We fought evenly for a few moments, grunting and laughing (this was not a malicious fight, after all), then I distracted Grace with the old "Look! There's the Doctor" ploy, which she fell for—
May I say, gloriously. Ever the gracious winner, Tegan shouted, "Advantage Tegan!" and I glomped her legs. She fell, and that's how I got the TARDIS key.
It is not. You know perfectly well I tripped you.
Aw, always spoil my fun! Boycott the Salvation Army, you would. So, I admit, Tegan unlocked the TARDIS door first. But even though she had a key, the TARDIS had to let her in, and the amazing thing, considering who asked, is that she did.
Now that the power struggle was over, I behaved myself and walked into the doorway. Then, getting an idea, I froze. "Wait, wait, wait! Tegan, this is something I've always wanted to do!"
I wrapped one arm around the outside of the TARDIS. I reached the other inside and stretched along the inside wall—my arm straight as could be—and my fingertips touched air.
"Um, Grace..." said Tegan from inside the doorway.
"It's so big inside!" I said, finally coming around, and I noticed the Doctor hovering over the console and looking over his shoulder at us, as if he had just landed and was trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong. "Oh."
"Wot?" said the Doctor.
"Oh, Tegs, he's doing the—"
"Wot?"
"Are we shorter than usual, or is it bigger than TV?"
"WOT?"
Tegan stumbled back into me and I caught her in a hug. "It's actually him!" she breathed. "Do we know the Doctor?"
I looked at the Tenth Doctor—and surprisingly Martha, glancing from the monitor to us to the monitor and back—staring at us staring at him staring at us. We hope you get the idea. "I don't suppose we do."
"Well! We don't know you…but this room appears to be bigger on the inside, and it catches the eye! Help me, Grace." Tegan muttered this last bit.
"You help me! I feel the need to applaud!" And I did.
"Oh, not Torchwood at all then," Tegan scoffed.
The Doctor, probably smelling a rat because the last time he was applauded was Canary Wharf, was not amused. "Martha, have you seen these people before?"
"Never in all my life. I don't even think they're British."
They both stood upright, the Doctor taking a few steps toward us with narrowed eyes. (Tegan: I know I'm going to get flamed by Tennant fan girls, but as brilliant an actor as he is, he didn't come close to matching the intensity of the real Doctor's eyes.) "Who. Are. You?"
Tegan, shaking in her boots, er, Converse, spoke first. "I-I'm T-Tegan."
The Doctor raised an eyebrow, which made me want to clap once more. "Not Jovanka, is it?"
"Why?" she said, trying to sound clueless. "Who's Jovanka?"
Typically unabashed, I interrupted, "My name is really Garace, but since no one remembers that, I just call myself Grace with a silent Guh."
He almost—almost seemed to smile. "Is that 'Garace' like 'Galinda'?"
"Tegan, the Doctor knows Wicked—"
"Shut up, Grace," Tegan said in sing-song.
And just like that, his smile was gone. "Where are we and how did you get in my ship?"
"It landed in her backyard and we wanted to know what it was," I said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Why is your—um, ship, did you say?"
"Right, TARDIS."
"—bigger on the inside?"
"It's a time machine too," interjected Martha.
"Oh, the subtle approach, nice," said the Doctor, rubbing his eye with one finger.
"Well, we did land in their backyard."
"Oh, so you could go anywhere!" I gave Tegan a knowing nod. He's with Martha… so, when? "Where've you been recently?"
The Doctor and Martha turned to each other, talking at once.
"Oh, 1913…" said Martha.
"Aw, he's already met Tim? I wanted to hear Tim's speech! I love—"
"Hush, you!" from, of course, Tegan.
Over us the Doctor said, "There was the Red Hatching—lovely, the Hatching—and then we got stuck in 1969—"
"Hold on, hold on," Martha interrupted. "Really, 'lovely the Hatching'? We weren't bringing the bows and arrows as baby gifts!"
Tegan yanked me aside. Presumably, the Doctor and Martha were too busy arguing (about whether or not the Doctor had intended his baby gift to offend something called the Redcall Birddragon) to notice our conversation.
"Tegan, that means…"
"Right," I sighed with relief. "We've missed the Weeping Angels."
She shook her head in disbelief. "Well yes, but more importantly, Saxon! Saxon is still going to happen!"
She shuddered, terror in her eyes. She always did find him the worst, I thought, wishing God had given me half the sense He gave squashed pumpkin.
"Teg, it's real," I whispered. "What are we going to do?"
"It's coming," Tegan told me, equally quiet. "The Year is coming, and we should have known. We even have a President Winters elected; how thick can we be? So… we want to be with him when it happens."
Can I just point out to all of you who are snickering, "What a stupid, cheesy thing to say," that normally I would agree. But everything changes when the Doctor is real. And for that matter, everything changes when the Master is real.
"All right," Grace said, trying to analyze this coolly, as she always does when standing in the TARDIS meeting the Doctor. "Let's beg him on hand and knee!"
"Are you two all right?" the Doctor said, suddenly behind us.
Grace automatically dropped to her knees, Oliver Twist style. "Please, sir…"
I grabbed her by the arms. "Getupgetupgetup!" I hissed. As you read, you'll notice that in our exuberance, we blended words a lot. A lot.
"Can we come with you?" she asked sheepishly.
The Doctor didn't quite warm to the idea. "Ah, well, um, I don't—I don't think, um—there's not room."
We leaned apart to peek around him in different directions at the TARDIS. We stood upright, exchanged genuinely confused glances, and gave him puppy eyes.
"I understand," Grace said with a pathetic sniffle, starting to turn away. "It's like the Mad Hatter's table."
The Doctor, understanding that Grace was being sarcastic, continued fumbling around for an excuse. "Well, it's just—that—you're too young."
"You don't even know how old we are!" I protested.
He sighed and pointed at Grace. "Fifteen." His finger slid toward me. "Fourteen."
"Ha!" I burst out. "Sixteen. Completely different."
He looked at me strangely. "Really?"
"Oh shut up," I grumbled.
Grace was laughing delightedly.
"Okay, so you do know our ages. Haven't you ever traveled with people our ages?"
That, you have to admit, was a stroke of brilliance. Shutting him up without blowing our cover.
"Doctor, the TARDIS let them in," Martha said.
"That's right, she did," I said, nonchalantly, dropping the TARDIS key in the grass behind us, where only a hungry rabbit, or perhaps a lawn mower, could find it.
The Doctor groaned quietly. "There is that. Well, I suppose…"
He noticed us getting excited 'cause we could tell where this was going. "Hold on! You get one guaranteed trip, then we'll talk."
We did try to look somewhat disappointed, as if we had no idea that was code for, "You have become warts. I'll never be able to get rid of you."
Unless we did something really stupid, like Grace was about to do.
"Can you take us to Barcelona?"
The Doctor cocked an eyebrow. "How do you know about Barcelona?"
She got a panicked look on her face. "Um, it's a very famous city on—on Earth."
Fair play to Grace: that was a marvelous save. And the crazy thing is, despite our horrified expressions, the Doctor bought it!
"Well, yes, of course I could take you there...but I could also take you to a planet called Barcelona."
We tried very hard to look amazed.
"There's a planet? Really?" Grace pushed up her glasses by the bridge, avoiding eye contact.
"I've been meaning to go there anyway, so why not?" He leaped over to the console and pulled a lever that looked like it might've once been part of a bicycle. He gave us a mischievous look, raising an eyebrow, like he does. "Ever seen a dog with no nose?"
We both grinned excitedly.
The VWORP VWORP of the TARDIS never sounded so beautiful, for the entire five seconds it lasted before Martha said, "Doctor, just because you don't need to sleep doesn't mean I won't keel over." She did look exhausted, come to think of it. "We only got the TARDIS back from the Angels a few minutes ago. I need to get some rest. Can we save dogs with no noses for morning?"
"Great, she's on London time," I muttered.
"It's only mid-afternoon for us," Grace said, looking disappointed that, despite all her trouble, the Barcelona plan had been thwarted.
"Then I suggest you stay up and think of a better cover story," the Doctor said.
Okay, not really. We did that on our own. And, technically, we weren't so much staying up late to think of a cover story as we were just trying to think of ways to ask our questions in order not to give ourselves away. What the Doctor really said was, "There's a spare room down that hall and to the left of the toilet. Don't make a mess; I hate housecleaning."
From somewhere, the TARDIS gave a bang of protest at being called a house. Did I mention how beautiful she sounds?