Disclaimer: Doctor Who is not mine, I can only dream

Spoilers: Maybe probably from both series (1 and 2)

Different points of View

She sat in the control room of the TARDIS with her legs perched on the top of the console, thinking about what she was doing floating about the universe in a big blue box- A Police Box, to be exact. That was blue.

The TARDIS gave a rumble at that, so the woman sat up and patted the console in a kind manner before reaching forward and stretching, then leaning back with a sigh. She got out a pen from her back pocket and delved under the chair for the pink, fluffy notebook that she had stored in the 'secret' pocket of her jacket, which seemed to be strewn over the chair, even though she could have sworn she'd left it by the door.

Impressed, she nodded gratefully at the Time Rotor: if the TARDIS had a mouth, she would have smiled. The young ladysat back with her feet on the chair and began to write . . .

TARDIS day whatever number...it's not like the TARDIS actually has a clock. The whole TARDIS doesn't contain one clock apart from my watch, and that's a bit... out of time. Apart from the Doctor, I don't think there's a clock in this place. Not a tick-tocking one that I know of, anyway. But the Doctor...well. He's a clock unto himself.

Being a Time Lord and all, he gives me the impression that he knows everything. I suppose he does. I don't know much about him apart from the fact that he is the last Time Lord in existence and that was because of a war with the Daleks. Now, the Daleks are weird: They just are they have nothing going for them. Except hate. From what I saw, anyway. The one I met went mad because I turned it part human. But that isn't what I'm writing about at all. For some reason I'm writing about clocks, but then got on to the Doctor.

The Doctor. He's my best friend, I should say. We get on so well and we argue like a married couple. Even my own FATHER thought we were an item. Not that he was my Father in a going-to-the-beach-and-feeding-the-ducks sense...He still was my father, but I hardly knew him. He died for me, but as usual the Doctor was there to comfort me. He even returned from being eaten by a dinosaur type thingy- he called it a Reaper- to be with me. That is some connection.

When we first met he saved my life and blew up my job. I think that's how he communicates, but then again he does save my life like every week. First he saved me from the Autons, then the Gelth, then those spiders, the Slitheen and then that dalek (in a round-about way). He's so nice, though not in a lovey-dovey way- sort of just...nice... and in a way I love him. Not icky and stuff like that, just... nice.

He does have a warped sense of humour and can get cross, doesn't like my mother- but then that's just the Doctor.

Well, it is. I would describe him to you, how he looks and that, but who am I actually writing this for? Myself? And why? Where was I? Ah. I would describe him for you...but I can't.

Hearing a noise, she stuck the pen behind her ear and put the book back into the 'secret' pocket. Just at that moment, a man wearing a black leather jacket strode into the Console Room, giving his companion a manic grin before walking around the console and bending under it, sonic screwdriver at hand.

When his companion was sure he was absorbed she reached under the chair, got the pen out from behind her ear and added a footnote. . .

No. I can describe him! That's the thing.
I can describe him in just one word. Well, no. Two words, just to. The Doctor is . . . The Doctor.

Scout Girl

BETAed by the 'fantastic' Let'sDoTheTimeWarpAgain