Back Where it Started

AN: A quick thank-you to Nicoleisawesmazing for reviewing, and to all those who have reviewed the previous stories since this one has been started—you're all wonderful.

Chapter One

It's cold when we step out of the TARDIS on, what seems to be, quite a fresh but Misty morning. Twigs and dried leaves crack underfoot as The Doctor whirls around in a fashion only he could. I turn my gaze upward, the trees around us are huge; with thin trunks they seem to grow forever until they finally have any form of foliage on them. The mist isn't just up in the air either, it's around us, swarming at our feet, flicking tendrils at our faces, but it's not unpleasant, in fact, it's quite the opposite—it's rather pretty.

"So…" I sigh, content in that moment, "Where are we?"

"No Idea!" Comes his reply, "Let's go find out, aye?"

I zip my jacket further up my torso and adjust the tattered gloves on my hands with a nod. I'd given up tying my hair back a short while, for we always end up knee-deep in some mischief that means it become untied, and so, I simply tuck my mess of curls into my collar, and walk about a step or two behind him. The path is rather narrow, and a little difficult to walk it seems.

{::}::{::}::{::}

"Adelaide? Come in."

Slowly, as if unsure, I pull the door handle down –it makes a creaking sound, one that I wince at- and open the door. The office is the same; deep brown wooden flooring, a desk sat by the window made of oak, the same two deep-coloured plush chairs sat opposite each other. There is something new, however—with this new Doctor apparently comes pictures, art, drawings, all framed on the walls of the office. They aren't professional, either, but look as though children have done them. Young children at that. In fact, the entire room has a different feel to it than when I last stood on this threshold. I'd even go as far to say that it felt friendly.

The sun shines through the window and casts a glow about the place, the floor doesn't look as dark as I remember it now, and the chairs are actually a deep red colour, not dull brown as I'd thought. But they hadn't been changed, no. The curtains had simply been opened; something Doctor Mayhew was never keen on doing, apparently.

"Take a seat."

His voice interrupts my thoughts and, after a moment of fumbling, I do so, sitting in the left chair. It seems that you get a good view of the road from this vantage point, and the few people that are wandering it this Morning.

"Is that a Market?" I ask without realising that I've even opened my mouth, "They're setting up a Market?"

"Yes, Adelaide." He quirks a brow, "They do it almost every Saturday?"

"I've never noticed."

{::}::{::}::{::}

After about ten minutes worth of walking, we can hear something. They are footsteps, heavy ones too, and there's more than one set of them, three I'd say, at least. They are getting closer, quickly. And then it erupts, the sound of laughter. Children. I turn around just in time to seen they're heading our way, running with wooden swords. There are four of them, each with a sword, the girls with little bonnets on their heads. I pretty much have to leap into the undergrowth to avoid being trampled, whilst The Doctor presses his back against a tree. One of the younger ones stops, just in front of me, pulls something out of his pocket. It's an apple. I take it with a small smile.

"Thank-you."

The child runs on by, catching up with his friends, and I turn to The shrugs before taking a step forward, back onto the path.

"Hear that?"

I too come back to the small path. There is music coming from somewhere, not recorded, but live. It's rather jolly too, perhaps string instruments? Yes, I think so. It kind of adds eeriness to whole situation—what with the thick mist, the tall, skeleton-like trees, and now music flowing through the air, there is no true way to tell of as to just which way it is coming from either. The whole thing sends a quick shiver up my spine.

The two of us have been stood in silence, simply listening for a moment or two, before The Doctor perks up—

"This way!"

{::}::{::}::{::}

"Do you often daydream, Adelaide?"

I blink. How long have I been silent? Has he been asking me questions? Has he told me his name? Did I fall asleep? For Goodness sake, Addie, get a grip.

I clear my throat, "Sorry. And occasionally, yes." I decide that perhaps being honest with him will get me further, "But, they aren't dreams, Doctor." I frown then, wrinkling my nose slightly, "They aren't dreams, they're memories."

"Memories?" He writes something down.

"Yes. I assume you've read my file?"

"It is my job."

"Right. Yes. Of course. Sorry." I inwardly wince at my own stupidity. He seems like a nice guy, though, he's not glaring, no, he simply looks content, like he's listening. "People think they're hallucinations, but they're not, you see? In fact, had Doctor Mayhew actually spoken the truth for once in her life, The Doctor would be in my file. She saw him, only once, mind, but she saw him. I think she threatened him. But then, It's Doctor Mayhew, she never really spoke the truth at al—"

He clears his throat, and I wring my hands in my lap.

"Sorry. Inappropriate." I lick my lower lip, and sigh, "You have questions?"

"I do."

"Fire away."

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, only showing me the seriousness of the situation and worrying me slightly.

"What do you remember about your Mama, Adelaide?"

"Mama…?" I falter, leaning back a little.

"Yes."

"Well…" The nerves hit me now, and I blink quickly. What can I remember of Mama? Anything? Perhaps… "She used to smile a lot?" I offer, her nods, though evidently expects more, "I don't think I ever saw her cry, actually, during the short time I spent with her, of course." My tone becomes bitter, "Which is odd, actually. How could she seem so cheerful and loving, when she is the kind of person who throws away her daughter at the drop of a hat?"

"Remember, Adelaide. What do you remember?"

"Oh…, I think I get my hair from her, the curls, I mean, not the colour—she was blonde, I think."

"Good."

"Is this necessary, Doctor?"

"Please." He replies, "Is there anymore? An outing that you remember, perhaps?"

I bite the inside of my cheek, screwing my face up slightly with a frown and a furrowed brow.

"There… there was a beach…" Why is he making me doing this? What's the point? "It was sandy, and little, more of a small cove really, I suppose."

"Good. That's all?"

"That's all."

{::}::{::}::{::}

It hasn't taken long for us to find where the music came from; we just continued down the same path for another five minutes, and now, here we are. It's a Market, a festival almost, and it's beautiful. Ladies in patterned skirts, with bells around their necks, wrists and ankles, the men wear battered type hats, they look like berets, almost. Double breasted waistcoats seem to be popular, also, with even some of the youngest boys wearing them, looking strangely smart with bare feet and plaited long hair. The girls are pretty, too; striped dresses with belts covered in small bells, tinkling away with flowers in their hair.

"Wow…"

The place is huge, too, it must be the only clearing in the large forest able to accommodate the vast amount of tents and stalls. There's food being sold, pastries, meat, fabrics, everything you could think of. There's a toy stand a few meters away. Or I guess it's a toy stand, children have flocked from all over to crowd around it. There's a string hanging above it, like a small tightrope, a toy monkey walks across it, clapping two symbols together. I'm fairly sure that my mouth has been agape for a while, for The Doctor's hand suddenly pushes my chin up, shutting it for me.

"Oh." It's the only sound I can really manage at the moment.

"Yes. Some sort of Winter Fair, I'd guess. Love a fair."

"Remarkable."

{::}::{::}::{::}

"This… Doctor—what's he like?"

"Stupid." Comes my, rather quick answer, "But also rather… cool, I suppose. Yes, cool."

I sound far away, like my mind's not all there. I still have my sights set on the Market being set up in the street outside.

"Every Saturday, you say?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

He clears his throat, it seems to be what he does to grab my attention. I turn back to him.

"Your Nightmares—" He begins.

"Memories." I counter stubbornly.

"Nightmares. They are to do with a noise, and a Man, yes?"

"Putting it simply, yes. A noise and a Man."

"You no longer dream of…" He pulls a written file off his desk, mine, and flicks open the first few pages, "Granite Bridges—a completely different world?"

"Not as much, Doctor, no."

"So, your Nightmares have changed?"

I shrug, "I suppose so."

He makes to open his mouth and I interrupt him—

"Those drawings on your wall—past patients?"

"Yes."

I swallow, "Did you help them, Doctor? Did you make them better? What if they didn't need to be better?"

"They all need to be better, Adelaide. But, yes, many of them –not all, though, remember that- are better now."

"I don't need to be better, Doctor, I don't."

It takes a matter of minutes before I am back in my room, sitting on my bed, a lump rising quickly in my throat. It's silent, just as it always is.