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I had been diagnosed with undifferentiated schizophrenia.

Not long after my breakdown, I was moved to the Fergus Falls Regional Treatment Center. I knew then, that I was no longer home anymore. The building that I stayed in was closed in 2005 and was eventually listed for sale in 2012. Back at home, I remember the people talking about demolishing it. Here, that building had no sign of being closed anytime soon, but that might've just because it would be two years before that time happened, or so I guessed (and I was right, I was later moved to Fergus Falls Community Behavioral Health Hospital).

I was prescribed Lurasidone, a neuroleptic meant to treat my symptoms. I felt restless most of the time, feeling like I needed to move around. I was jittery, my hands constantly trembling and my legs shaking with excess energy that I wanted to get rid of by moving. Sadly though, while I wanted to move, it was hard with my muscles being stiff, almost rigid. Something that I tried to fix by keeping myself active anyway.

I almost never slept; instead, I sort of drifted in and out of awareness, daydreaming and going off into my mind palace, to quote the modern Sherlock Holmes. It was hard for me to sleep. "I just don't feel tired," I would tell the nurses when it was three in the morning and, still, I would be awake and doing something else besides sleeping. Truly, though, it was because I was afraid to sleep.

I still had nightmares of that day as well as other dreams that were less scary and more heart breaking. I just stayed awake, which was easier than it sounded, since I was already only being able sleep five to six hours a day anyway back at home. I always had trouble sleeping, just not to this extent, per se...

Anyway, my mind was always clouded, I couldn't think straight. My thoughts were hard to put into some semblance of order, so it would hard for me to think of a response to questions or direct statements that were posed to me. Time and days passed me by so easily, so readily, that I wouldn't realize that a week had passed if I didn't check the calendar in the lounge.

The only things that stood out clearly from the fog were some of my individual therapy sessions. They all varied and some were more important than others, but they helped to form the person I've become today, both good and bad.


November 1, 2003.


"What do you remember moments before you were unconscious?"

"My mind began to burn. I was dying, I would've died, if I wasn't sedated when I was. There was too much knowledge inside my head, all those things I knew...It came from, it came from…" I started sobbing in horror. "I killed them, oh, Lord in Heaven, forgive me. I killed them. Those Daleks and Cybermen and Weeping Angels, they were all here...and I killed them. There was something I absorbed too, I...I...I killed it. I didn't mean to in the darkness, I just wanted to go home. No, not even that, I just wanted it to end. I wanted the horror to stop. Make it stop. Please, make it stop!"

I started to scream in earnest, doctors broke in through the door and everything went dark.


December 13, 2003.


White, white, white.

White walls, white floor, white clothes.

Can't move, don't want to move, too tired to move.

My head rolled back against the padded wall that was bone white. The only color in the room was my limp hair, too bright and too red to be real. I didn't like it in here. I wanted out. I told that to anyone who would listen, but no one did, none of them cared. Last time I got out, Dr. Pierce only tutted, telling me that it was my own fault that I was in the intensive care. I got angry then, really and properly angry. She didn't like that and here I was again.

It wasn't my fault they didn't believe me.

It wasn't my fault the truth was so out-of-this-world and unreal.

It wasn't my fault that I sounded like such a fruit loop every time I told them.

I started banging my head against the wall, sobbing. I was telling the truth, I wasn't crazy! I shouldn't be here! I shouldn't be here!

The door burst open and the two doctors strode in, one of them holding a syringe full of sedative aloft. Had I been saying-no, shrieking- everything aloud? I tried to crawl away but my moments were too sluggish. I hated needles, I didn't like them, they hurt!

But it didn't matter what I wanted or that I was scared of needles-I hated the things, keep them away from me-when they left, it was just me and the walls and the white, white, white blankness. There was only me and my thoughts and walls.

Why did they have to be so white?


February 25, 2004.


"I've been getting nightmares," I say after around nine minutes and twenty-three seconds according to the clock on the wall.

"Have you?" Dr. Pierce asked. "Tell me about them."

"I'm back at home...I can see myself having the life I always wanted." I pause for a few seconds, to collect the exact words I want to say. "I've...got a job as a dental hygienist...I've got a house and dogs, three of them, two pugs, Rupert and Pakkun, and a collie, Lassie...I still see my sister, Laura, when I can. I still write stories, travel, and food, cooking and eating it...I garden my garden of death filled with 'botanical atrocities' with some common, harmless flowers too. And...And…" I stop, swallowing thickly.

"What is it?"

"I run. I can run in the rain again, go racing in it again, just like always. Just like I used to before Old Frog Tree."

Dr. Pierce wrinkled her nose slightly. "In the rain?" She repeated incredulously. "Why on Earth would you do that?"

My face lit up at the question, "It makes me try harder, forces me to reach deep within myself to get that power I usually leave untouched. It's like I'm fighting against myself and against nature, against the world, when I run. I fight with all my heart to keep going, one foot in front of another. It always feels so good, like leaving behind all the weights in my heart and mind in the dust. I makes me happy, really, truly happy."

I looked at her, thinking that she would understand, like she always had before when I talked about my life and experiences, but all I saw was a blank face, one that didn't understand my joy. She disapproved, I could feel it. My throat tightens, and I feel myself getting smaller and smaller under her gaze. She changes the subject.

"And that is a nightmare?"

"...Yeah," I answer after another three minutes and forty-nine seconds have passed, tick tock. "Yeah, 'cause, you see, it never lasts. The dream fades away a little more, and it always ends the same with those white cracks covering the night sky… Before everything shatters to pieces, blanketed by the whiteness." I stop, throat constricting once more.

I manage to pull myself together so I can continue, "And I just keep running and running and running...I think I'm running from something."

"What do you think it is?"

"I-I don't know… It's like I know I should know what it is, but I don't remember...Then I wake up, and I know that it was just a dream, and it tears me apart."

"You're sad that the nightmare was only a nightmare?" Dr. Pierce asks flabbergasted.

"Yeah, 'cause I lose everything all over again."

"But it's only a delusion, a dream, none of it was real."

"No, it was real, the same as you or me," I insisted stubbornly. "I could feel it so vibrantly, those emotions were real, not fake."

Dr. Pierce shook her head, "You been telling me for some time now that you starting to forget things. If it was real, the memories wouldn't be fading, now would they?"

And it was then, that I first started to doubt…


June 15, 2004.


"I've never told anyone about this before, but before...before the darkness, there was...actually a bright light."

"Why haven't you told anyone before?" Dr. Pierce asked patiently.

"...'Cause I was worried that you'd think I'm even more crazy. You think I am already, I just didn't want to add anymore to it," I tell her sullenly. Privately, I think the real answer, 'I just didn't want to go back to intensive care.'

"There are no judgments here, just two people having an honest conversation with each other."

'Liar,' I thought bitterly, but knowing better than to say such negative thoughts out loud.

"You truly believe this right now, so you are fine. You aren't trying to make things up. You honestly believe them, it's just my job to convince you otherwise. I can't help you unless you tell me."

"...Okay," I took in a huge breath before releasing it slowly, trying to calm my racing heart. "Remember the bright light that was trying to go through the groove of the tree?"

"Yes."

"That was the light I first experienced...Earlier, I said that I was first engulfed by the light before it turned into darkness...I was telling the truth, just not all of it."

"Well, I'm listening now," Dr. Pierce smiled, clicking her pen in preparation. I tried to ignore the fact that everything I said was going to be written down and dissected.

"It-It was everywhere. I was completely surrounded by the white blankness, and I fell with no end in sight. There was something like wind that blew in the whiteness, but it wasn't wind though-"

"-Wind that wasn't wind?" Dr. Pierce asked incredulously, interrupting me.

"Yes, it wasn't wind, I think it might've been the resistance against the force that was pulling me." Actually, I didn't think that at all, but it was the least crazy sounding explanation that I could think to give her. Her mind was simple like that.

"Hmm, I see, continue," I could tell that she didn't truly see. I almost snarked, '"I see," says the blind man,' at her but managed to restrain myself.

"I started to hear the echoes then, they were- they were so beautiful and so...terrifying," my eyes started to glaze over as I remembered. Memories of a song so beautiful, that I hadn't heard its match since.

"Echoes?"

"Yeah, echoes, like when you hear something from far, far away. Like when you hear someone singing from far off, you can't quite hear the words or the tune, but it's there. The echoes...they were like a wordless vocalization, one continuous song, the Song of Time, the Song of Everything…" My attention drifted inward as I trailed off thoughtfully. Dr. Pierce kind of disappeared from my thoughts and concerns, she didn't matter to me anymore.

"And what was it like? How did you feel?"

"I felt everything. I felt...everything. There is no one way to describe it, having everything in your head...I paid for it later, to be certain, it burned… It burned…" My voice trailed off again, and I stared off into space, unable to continue now. My mind had been clouded once again. My memories from that time too far out of reach, as if something was blocking me from accessing them. The more I struggled to recover them, the more lost I got with my own mind. Faintly, I was aware of Dr. Pierce shuffling her papers, a clear dismissal.

"I think that is enough for today, Penny."


August 31, 2004.


"I don't even know which is fantasy and which is reality anymore. It's hard to keep it all straight in my head...the details are bleeding together."

"Hmm," Dr. Pierce uttered thoughtfully. "Maybe it's time for you to start getting everything down in a diary, a journal, to keep it all straight in your head. Here, take this one."

"...You were going to recommend it today anyway, regardless of what I said, weren't you?" I accused.

"I plead the fifth."

"Ha-ha," I laughed without too much humor, the fog was making it hard to keep my smile in place, and it fell without much fanfare. "I'll try it. What am I supposed to write?"

"Whatever comes to mind…"


January 19, 2005.


"I've couldn't help but notice that you've been writing about...science-fiction," Dr. Pierce said, leaving a meaningful pause at the end for me to explain. I pretend to not notice, picking at a loose thread on the couch. If she wanted something from me, she was going to have to ask for it. She finally sighed and asked, "Why?"

"...I'm just writing whatever comes to mind…"

She looked frustrated, and even a little bit upset, before calming herself down. "Like what?"

"Star Trek, Star Wars, Battlestar Galactica, The Twilight Zone, Doctor Who-"

"-Doctor what?" She interrupted, frowning.

"Doctor Who, a British television series. It's been running for close to fifty years now, since 1963," I said with a spacy grin, knowing she hated sci-fi. She was too close-minded.

"Don't you mean forty years, Penny?" Dr. Pierce gently corrected.

"No," I frowned, "fifty. I heard about there being a special for it on coming for… Christmas, I think… I can't remember. It's on BBC America."

"I see. I haven't heard of this show before, if it's been going on for forty years, why haven't seen it or heard about it?" Dr. Pierce asked, curious of what my explanation would be.

"It got canceled for twenty-some-odd-years. It didn't revive until 2005 with the ninth Doctor. It's speculated that the twenty-year break between Seven and Nine was because of the Time War, which makes sense, considering there was a movie featuring Eight in 1996." The words spurted out, uncontrollable, the flood gates opened.

"I don't… I don't understand," Dr. Pierce stated, puzzled. "Ninth Doctor? Seven and Eight? Time War?"

"Oh, the Doctor is a Time Lord who travel around in his space ship called the TARDIS. It looks like a 'Police Public Calls Box' and is bigger on the inside… Or smaller on the outside depending on your perspective. He can go anywhere in time and space, and he saves the Universe a lot.

"If he dies, he regenerates, his body completely changes, and he becomes a different man. He has the same mind but a different body. So far, he has regenerated ten times. I've heard that Time Lords regenerate only twelve times, but at one point, he said that he could regenerate 507 times. I think he was joking, though…"

"I...see," Dr. Pierce blinked, overwhelmed by all the information, but smiled when she saw my face light up and regain some color and expression. This, in her mind, was a normal thing to be excited and happy about. "I'll talk with some of the staff, learn a bit more about 'Doctor Who,' since it seems to be something important to you, Penny."

I frowned, "No, it's not really important. I just really liked watching it. It was fun… Why did I ever stop?" I wonder out loud and tried to think about it. My clouded state of mind made it difficult, though, and I eventually gave up on that useless exercise. It was getting hard to think about things too much lately.

"Then what's important to you, Penny?" Dr. Pierce asked.

"Church," I chirped, "And running in the rain. I loved that. I felt like I could run forever and ever. I can't run anymore, though, just like I can't go to mass. I'm sick, you see." My face fell briefly, before smoothing back into its previous dazed expression. "I might lose control or have a fit again, but I don't think I would. I'm a good girl, aren't I?"

"Yes, Penny, you are. I know you would try to do that on purpose but accidents happen. We have a chapel in the hospital, so you can go there to pray. You can also run around the grounds or inside our gym. You would have to be supervised though, just to make sure you don't get lost or confused, Penny," Dr. Pierce said kindly, "but you can't leave the grounds, I'm sorry."

"No, I understand. I'm sick, so I've got to stay in the hospital and get better." I nodded, giving a brief, dreamy smile. This seemed to be the right answer Dr. Pierce was looking for, since she smiled and I felt gratified in return.

"Yes, Penny, you are, but you are improving, have been improving, over the past year. We'll see how you get to be later on."


February 1, 2005.


"Penny, there's no such thing as 'Doctor Who.'"

"What?" I asked, snapping briefly out of my drugged trance to give Dr. Pierce a piercing (no pun intended) look. "What do you mean by that?"

"It doesn't exist. I've asked around and looked online for the past week, and…there's nothing."

"How can that be? I know it exists, I remember!" I shout, distressed. I almost lunge out of my seat but the assessing and alarmed look Dr. Pierce gives keeps me in place. I need to calm down, lest I get sent back to the white room. That was the last thing I needed.

"That's because it's your own idea, you created it, no one else. It doesn't exist, except in your own mind."

"So I imagined it, just like everything else?" I asked, devastated as I slumped back into my seat. I didn't want to believe this, but even thing else was proving to be wrong or muddle. Honestly, I was at the point where I wasn't all that surprised, just disappointed.

"Yes, just like everything else."


April 27, 2005.


"I've noticed you stopped writing in your journal, do you care to tell me what's wrong?"

I stared at her flatly for a long time. When she opened her mouth to ask the question again, I said, "Everything I know, everything that I remember from before, is false. It's not true, fake. I'm trying to forget everything, so what's the point of writing down things that aren't true?" I asked dully. What was the point of this anymore? Maybe it would be better if I just holed up in my room and never came out, like Gregor from 'Metamorphosis.'

Well, except without turning into a giant bug, I'd rather not deal with that on top of everything else.

"It helps with the healing process and organizes your thoughts," Dr. Pierce promptly answered, giving the same answer she always gave. At this point she might as well have been reading from a script.

"But they are all lies, they aren't true!" I burst out angrily, fuming in my seat. Bring on the intensive care and white room! At least I would be left to my own devices and not usually bothered for the most part.

"It's fiction to everyone else, but you believe it's true. That's why you need to write it down. If you write it all out like it's fiction, it will become fiction to you. It's helping you to write down this 'Doctor Who' on paper. You enjoy doing it. You can't deny that, Penny." I felt myself deflate, as if I was a balloon filled with hot air that a person stuck a pin into.

"Yeah, I like writing," I admitted, still troubled. "But it's re-I mean, I think it's real. I'm so sure it is. What if I get sued?"

"Are you trying to sell it for money?" Dr. Pierce asked.

"...No," I answered. "But-"

"It doesn't exist. It has never existed. You aren't even going to publish it. It's just for your own amusement and healing. We can keep this between you, me, and anyone else you want to share it with," Dr. Pierce interrupted.

"...Okay." I slumped back in my seat. Did it really matter what I thought anymore? Apparently not.


May 13, 2005.


I hid in the ruins. They wouldn't be able to find me here, this I was certain of. The closest point of civilization was the Scendles Academy which was on another continent across the channel that connected the oceans of Bal Soon and Salmizi Ba. Not that it mattered anyway, because of the Time Wars, the population of the Gallifreyans now only rested between three and nine million, not counting the loomings and the Time Lords and Ladies themselves.

Many of the settlements and roads were completely abandoned as they gathered nearer to the Citadel on the Continent of Wild Endeavor across the Ocean of Salmizi Ba. The only people who were on this side of the planet, were the Outsiders exiled into the Wastes and the instructors with their students in the various chapters of the academy. The instructors and students hardly ever left their academy, and the Outsiders have dropped out of the Time Lord society, they wouldn't recognize me.

It was just me and the trees now, the lonely trees who called out to me, craving my attention and presence. Like me, they were now forgotten, as abandoned as the ruins of the Temple Rythia. They were calling out to me, they were crying my name, "Penny...Penny...!"

I frowned. That wasn't right, my name was-

"Penny!" Dr. Pierce shouted, face red.

I jolted, snapping out of whatever trance I had gotten myself into. Dr. Pierce was livid, although she hid it well, behind pursed lips and a flushed face. At most, she only looked upset and mad, not showing that she was only so far away from doing something hasty. I apologize but her face only got redder.

"How long has this been happening?" She demanded. "That sounded like some sort of satanic chant or something, what did any of those words mean? Do you know how long I've been trying to snap you out of...whatever that was?" I meekly shook my head. "For close to an hour! You need to tell me when these things happen, maybe some time by yourself might sort you out. You're terrifying the other patients who are already disturbed as it is."

I closed my eyes, trying to hold back protests. The visions...the hallucinations were getting worse. I had never gotten caught before, they usually only happened when I was by myself or in the privacy of my room. This was getting bad, fast. I tried to think of something to explain my actions, but the cupboard was bare. I had nothing to say as I was lead to intensive care and the white room that I thought I had finally left behind.


June 4, 2005.


"And Rose marveled at the audacity of this strange man in front of her. 'I live here!' She exclaimed, wondering how it came to be that she was the one answering this particular question and not the other way around.

"He seemed baffled and a bit shocked, asking-'What did you go and do that for?'-as if it was she was the odd one here!

"Feeling the slightest bit cross at his attitude, Rose retorted, 'Because I do. I'm only at home because someone blew up my job.' She had the feeling that he was only half-listening to her as he dug through his leather coat. Rose frowned, wondering if those were the same clothes that he had worn yesterday. Before she could take a closer examination, he drew something out of his pocket that captured her interest. A silver, tube-like object that looked like an extra large pen was modified into a laser-pointer.

"'I must have got the wrong signal,' he murmured to himself as it whirled and warbled. Then he looked at her suspiciously, asking, 'You're not plastic, are you?' Abruptly, he rapped her on the forehead with his knuckles. 'No, bonehead. Bye, then!'

"He made to draw away from her and make his exit, but Rose was having none of it. Collecting her scattered wits, she reached forward and snagged him by the arm and forcibly pulled him into her house, rather unconsciously using the same tone a mother might use, 'You. Inside. Right now.' The door slamming behind them cut off any protests that he might've made." With a sigh, I closed the book, finished with the chapter to my audiences displeasure. Much like small children they asked me to read more, but I firmly shook my head. "Tomorrow," I promised.

It wasn't my intention to start this, but one of the patients asked was I writing and I told them, only for them to beg me to read them just one page. I actually enjoyed reading it out aloud, and one page turned into a another...By the time I finished the first chapter, I had a handful of people quietly listening to me read. Embarrassed I had stopped and retreated to my room, but the next day in the cafeteria, they asked me to read the next chapter. They persisted until I promised I would every day until I finished the book.

Now here we were, three days later, and it wasn't just a small handful of patients, but a large group with a few of the staff listening in and making sure everyone behaves. It felt...nice to have all that attention focused on me as I did something so simple as to read to them. I was reminded of my brother at home, and how I'd read out loud to them. For once, I also had something to look forward to at the end of each day.


July 11, 2005.


"And it was to their misfortune, that they had been too close, for they promptly found themselves covered in green slime." A chorus of varying degrees of disgust was heard in the background, and I smiled as I shut the book. Only a few more chapters and it would be finished.

My stomach churned at the thought. I was catching up to the timeline in the book, soon they'd visit Utah in the 2005 and...I shuddered. I would finish this book and then I would be done. I couldn't go on like this. It would just be a small hiatus, surely there would be other things to occupy everyone's time?

Maybe I could just skip one... But that would leave my audience wondering where Adam came from.

I grimaced, I couldn't avoid it. Besides, I would have to introduce the Daleks at one point, they were one of the Doctor's biggest enemies. 'Just a few more chapters,' I told myself. 'Then I'll take a break, surely, no one will mind? It's a just a story...'

I ignored the stab of hurt at the thought.


July 28, 2005.


"Well, Penny, it appears that your story-telling is getting quite popular in the hospital."

"..." I didn't respond.

Dr. Pierce tried again, "The other patients I've talked to love your stories, they make the days better for others. They have something to look forward to now. Why have you stopped?"

"...Do you know what year it is in your time?" I deflecting sullenly.

Dr. Pierce sighed, "It's 2005 in everyone's time, Penny."

"It's supposed to be 2015," I snapped before sighing, weary. Grimly, I continued, attempting to gather my thoughts, "The next story has the-the Dalek I told...um, Dr. O'Connell about in it."

"Dalek?" Dr. Pierce frowned, obvious not remembering any session that I had been before where I mentioned, described, and drew the creature. I was starting to get the feeling that she never actually listened to me, she just heard what was said and recorded it before deleting the 'useless' information from her mind. I think she never really cared, no matter how much I wanted to believe in the contrary. "What's that?"

I ignored her question, miffed, "It's 2005 in-in your time that it takes place. What if...What if…" I couldn't bring myself to continue. Instead, I asked, "Is there...such a thing as 'Torchwood' or-or 'UNIT?'"

"No, Penny. Those organizations don't exist," Dr. Pierce was quick to deny, too quick to be telling the truth, but I as doped up as I was, I believed her. She was my psychiatrist. She was supposed to tell me what was real and what wasn't.

So, I believed her.


November 23, 2005.


"What do you mean closing? Is it, is it that time already?" I asked, surprised. "I knew it was sometime in 2005, n-no longer treating patients, before completely closing in-in 2008 and being put up for sale, but-"

"Penny," Dr. Pierce warned.

"Sorry, you were saying, Doctor?" I asked unrepentantly. So what if I was being cheeky and sounded like I was making stuff up, I wasn't!

"Penny, you remember what we told you, right?" Dr. Pierce persisted, looking at me sternly. I held her gaze for a moment or two before submitting, adverting my eyes and deflating.

"Sorry, Doctor," I said a little guiltily. "I'll try not to do it again, sorry. I'll be good, really, I'm sorry…"

She sighed, "It's fine, no need to get yourself worked up."

"I'm still a good girl, right?" I persisted, not wanting to go back to the white room. I had already been in the intensive care a few times these past few months because I didn't keep my visions, my hallucinations, under control. It was only recently that they had finally lowered the amount of anti-psychotics by a bit, I didn't want to go back to the near constant haze of confusion. This fog wasn't enjoyable, but it was a far cry better than the other option.

"Yes, Penny, you are," Dr. Pierce responded, almost impatiently. Briskly, she continued, "Anyway, the patients are being moved to Fergus Falls Community Behavior Health Hospital. You'll be staying there from now on."

"Okay, when will we start up our sessions, then?" I asked expectantly.

"We won't," Dr. Pierce said with relish.

"What?" I asked, sure that I had misheard, but feeling within my heart that I hadn't.

"We won't, you'll be transferred to another psychiatrist. I've been promoted because of my breakthroughs with you. I'm going to another mental institution in Anoka. I'm going to be the Head of Directories." She smiled, all her teeth showing, obviously happy. I couldn't help but feel hurt, though. I had forgotten that I was only one of many patients here, if just a bit stranger.

I was nothing but a case study in the end, my life was nothing but fiction to them.


January 2, 2006.


Dr. Dogers was a nervous man. He didn't hide all too well and was extremely jittery, making me nervous in turn. His smiles were quick and brief, as if they had never been there. It turned out at one point he 'had' anxiety disorder. I say 'had' with a pinch of salt, because to me, it seemed like he still had it.

"Penny Carter, it's nice to meet you. I am your new psychiatrist," he began, his voice surprisingly deep and steady, going start to the point.

"...Hi," I said, bringing my knees to rest up with me on the couch, hugging them to my chest. It seemed like a good place to rest my head.

I fell asleep.


February 13, 2006.


I began writing again and reading my stories out loud. I only had to write the Dalek episode that I had skipped, as I had already written up to the Game Station Episode where the Daleks return. I reassured myself that it was Rose's missing year, I could write all I wanted, the Dalek was gone. This year was relatively safe until Rose and the Doctor returned. Still, I avoided that episode, dreaded it. I hadn't touched the book, but I had thought that the patients had been waiting long enough and had started to re-read the previous books...I was in no way prepared for the warm welcome I received from my audience who still remembered my stories. To be honest, I was also a bit flattered.

I only got bothered when they insisted that I should make it public.

"Penny, you should publish your stories!" Mrs. Char exclaimed. "I've listened in, and they are like nothing I've ever heard before! I usually don't watch or read sci-fi stuff, since it goes over my head most of the time, but those stories are great!"

I kept on running, holding onto the bar to ensure I didn't lose my balance on the treadmill. I used my exercise as an excuse to not comment.

"Yeah," Jo-lee, my supervisor for the day agreed. "It's pretty awesome stuff. If it was a T.V. show, I'd watch it."

I tried to ignore them, setting the speed up at a faster pace to drown out their voices.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

"I can help you with the process too," Mrs. Char continued. "I know a guy who has a friend whose wife is cousins with the head publisher from some company. I can put in a good word for you, get your work to go directly to her."

Breathe in. Breathe out.

"Oh, how nice! What a great opportunity! This could be a job for you, a livelihood, if your books get published."

Breathe in. Breathe out. Run faster.

"Yeah, if you make enough, you can leave this place, get your own house!"

Hit the stop button and slow to a walk, panting.

"What do you think?" Jo-lee pressed.

"I...am sick...I am...unfit...to leave this...hospital," I responded between puffs, as I walked off the treadmill, breathing hard. The two women watched me, stunned, as I left for the showers.

So far, I was the only person who held the hard copies of my books. I held the only attachment to my previous life in my own arms. I wanted to keep it that way. It was something special, private. However, it wasn't only Mrs. Char and Jo-lee. After I had started up my story telling again, most of the staff that listened in had requested that I gave them copies so they could read it themselves. This would mean that I would have to write several copies of the same thing.

I didn't much enjoy that thought.

However, I found that I couldn't refuse them, as the idea seemed needlessly cruel. Conflicted, it was only with my next visit with Dr. Dogers that I made up my mind.

"I heard you have finally started your next book."

"Yes, it's 2006, her missing year."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Superstitious, I am...superstitious," I answer instead.

"So I see," Dr. Dogers nodded jerkily, jotting down some notes.

"They want me to publish."

"I've heard," Dogers confirmed.

"I don't want to."

"I've heard that also," he kept on writing.

"What do you think I should do?" The writing stopped, his hand frozen above the clipboard. "What should I do, Doctor?" I repeated, insistently.

"It's not my-"

"What should I do?" I pressed.

"...Publish," he finally said after a long pause.

"Why?" I asked settling back into my seat, now that he started to give me straight answers, something easy for me to understand.

"To confirm or confront your fears, whatever they may be," he took off his reading glasses, finally looking me in the eyes. I looked back, entranced. "Either they come true or they prove false. You should know by this year's end...if you publish now."

"Thank you," I said, smiling genuinely.

Dr. Dogers looked away, "Don't thank me for doing my job, Penny."

Then, it was with some more thought and no small amount of laziness on my part, that I opened up a free website and posted the stories online. Technically, it was open to the public and everyone would be able to read it, but I was so sure that no one would be interested. It would be like Clive's website, no one but the staff and alien enthusiasts would notice. If people were companions of the Doctor or knew about him, chances were they wouldn't go looking on the world-wide web to find him.

I was not at all prepared for what would actually occur...


November 26, 2006.


"Penny, what made you write these books? Where would you say they came from?" The reporter asked eagerly, hushed, since she technically wasn't supposed to be there.

"It's just a way to-to get the ideas out of my head, to k-keep everything stra-straight. So, I wrote about...a mad man in a blue box," I said quietly. The other sound in the room was the sound of our breathing, my voice, and her tape recorder that was recording every word of the secret interview.

"So, you consider the Doctor as an angry individual?"

I paused before giving a brief smile, "No, not really, not when he had Rose...He's more of a sad and lonely old man.. The last of his kind with no home to go to anymore."

"What do you mean by 'mad,' then?"

"I meant the British slang definition."

"Which means…?" She pressed, and suddenly, I knew what she wanted from me, I frowned.

"It means crazy, and he is. Over sixteen hundred years would probably do that to anyone."

"So, if you could describe him in one word, it would be 'crazy?'" The reporter pressed again with a funny look in her eyes. I didn't like it.

"No, the word I would use...is kind. 1,674 years of loss, pain, and sadness...and it just made him more kind. He's lonely, the last of his species. When someone cries out for help, he's usually the first there on the scene, saving the Universe, saving the Earth." I was badly butchering the line that Amy would use to describe the Doctor, but I couldn't really bring myself to care all that much.

"So, he's a superhero? What about Cassandra? What about that Dalek? That wasn't very hero-like…"

"When p-people think of heroes," I started, trying to collect my thoughts."They think of...stereotypical, knight-in-shining-armor. They don't exist, not really. The Doctor's a soldier from a war...He made an impossible decision, the hardest one, to-to save everything that ever was or will be. He-He tries to be merciful, gives chances, but with...with people like Cassandra or that Dalek, there...aren't any. Erm, I mean…" I fumbled for a bit before stopping, unable to continue that line of thought. Finally, I said, "The Doctor is what happens...when a good man goes to war."

"..." The reporter was stunned.

"Th-Thank you for visiting me, b-but you better leave now, if you don't...if you don't want to get in trouble…"

"R-right, thank you for having an interview with me, Penny. H-have a good night."

"Likewise."


November 29, 2006.


"Penny, Penny, look, look, you're on the news!" Mrs. Zimmerman crooned, delighted. "Come, come! Come and see!"

Reluctantly, I looked up at the television where there was, in fact, a picture of my face staring back unsmilingly. My eyes were too wide, skin too pale, hair long and slightly bushy, face unearthly still.

I looked crazy.

"Penny Carter is currently a new, hot, best-selling author for both online stories and book in print, surpassing even that of Stephenie Meyer in popularity in Young Adult Literature. The series, 'Doctor Who,' has taken the internet world by storm. Not much is known about the author, besides what has been provided by the Fergus Falls Community Behavior Health Hospital. She-"

I turned the television off by walking over and pressing the power button. Without another word, I left the room.


December 1, 2006.


"So, you had an interview, your statements are public now," Dr. Dogers said, twitching nervously, like usual.

"..." I didn't say anything, staring off into space.

"How do you feel about that?"

"I don't...really care anymore," I muttered. "I'm just so tired. I can't think straight. I can't sleep. I can't think. I can only write."

"Do you want to stop? You can take something that-"

"No!" I leaped out of my seat, causing Dr. Dogers to jolt back, startled. I took a calming breath, "No...It's just...it's how I remain sane. Please don't take that away from me…" I sank back down in my seat, but Dr. Dogers still remained tense and alert, watching me with new sight.

"Alright…"


May 3, 2007.


I was answering fan mail, something that never ceased to amaze me, when I first came across him (well, I assumed it was a him). It was his username that originally intrigued me, Masterofyourfate. I had laughed to myself, because it had reminded me of a song from so long ago...one that I had obviously made up as well as the band that sang it.

Still, it was all too appropriate considering the name of the villain I would be introducing in the future.

He seemed amused too when I referred to him as 'Master' when I responded to his question, "Are you for certain that the Doctor is the last of the Time Lords?"

"Well, he certainly believes so, /Master/. Nice username."

He was quick to type back, "People believe a lot of things, doesn't always mean it's true. That's my name, don't wear it out."

"Well, if you're so sure, how would the Doctor not sense him sooner?"

"Aha, so there /is/ someone."

I stared at the screen numbly, absent-mindedly thanking my foresight to always responding to questions privately. Eventually, I decided to be honest with him. "Yes, there is, but he won't be popping up for a while. Not while the Doctor is like this."

"What, does he do some alien, Time Lord thing and swap bodies or something?" This message seemed to be almost mocking, as if the writer behind it knew more than I did. I was unsettled by this notion. My long pause in answering seemed to prove him all the proof he needed. "He does, doesn't he?"

Again, I was forced to concede, "Yes, he does...Is it that obvious? Maybe my foreshadowing in the first book was a bit much."

"You practically delivered me the answer on the platter when he mentioned his ears." But this response seemed to ring false, as if he was indulgently agreeing with me, letting me believe what I wanted to. I dismissed this thought as paranoid.

"Then I suppose I won't have to tell you to not mention this to anyone?"

"I'll do what I like, sweetheart." I huffed at my computer, offended by his blasé manner. Another chill of unease struck me when he proceeded to type in. "Do right by me. I hate looking like a fool."

I didn't respond, instead I immediately exited out of the tab.


September 30, 2007.


I was getting more and more unsettled as the year went on. The user, Masterofyourfate, was the least of my worries at the moment. I think media went absolutely bonkers. The spaceships, aliens, mass hypnotisms... Honestly, I was a bit disgusted. I remember back at home how they treated the Malaysian flight that went missing, claiming it was aliens of all things, only to find past of the wreckage strew here and there.

Maybe they were trying to get me to step up as be a spectacle, claiming that I knew the future or something like a fame-crazed person. I was already in a mental institution, it probably wasn't too big of a step for them to assume I would get stars in my eyes and lose what little common sense I do have left. I already had them idly mentioning how my books had much of the same incidents presented in the books.

The final straw that broke the camel's back came when my creepy user sent me, "Could you tell me the future of this other Time Lord? Does he succeed in taking over the world?"

"Stop it, you shouldn't know these things. It's all fiction! I can't predict the future, alright? Coincidence." Then I proceeded to block him from my website and e-mail address. If there was one thing I could take control of in my life, it would be that.


March 28, 2008.


I stayed in either my room or the chapel most days then, too anxious to leave or be anywhere else most times. Something had happened, I knew, I just didn't remember what. I refused to watch the news or the television. I especially avoided the other patients, some of them insisted that I was a prophet or a seer. 'They're crazy,' I said to myself. 'Just like me, they're sick and not in their right mind. Aliens don't exist...'

But still, the foreboding feeling that I had forgotten something terribly important plagued my mind.

I became a social shut in, not even reading my stories out loud anymore like I once did. It was the only other thing I did besides praying at the chapel, holed up in my room, or ran on the treadmill like my life depended on it. It was the one thing the really, truly ever made me happy, and it...it was starting to fade away. I was starting to forget that joy as my mind got more and more clouded. It scared me, so I started running less and less.

I was wasting away, I could feel it. I was losing myself. I was wasting away, my sanity diminishing.

I doubted everything. As far as I was concerned, I was a mentally ill, paranoid, and delusional individual. And I wasn't, not really, but with the medicine I was taking, forcing this fog in my mind, I was more susceptible to influence by others. They were so sure that I was crazy, that I believed it too, and developed the habits and tendencies of a disturbed person.

I was wasting away, and it was killing me, slowly, I was dying.

But there was one thing, one thought that plagued my mind constantly.

Every morning, every day, every evening, every night, always, constantly, at every waking-and sometimes sleeping-moment.

"What have I forgotten?"


September 5, 2008.


Not even my timid theory that I held proved true. I didn't somehow go into a parallel dimension to where the Doctor was, like I had thought, hoped. Maybe this was for the better. I could finally accept this as proof that everything I had thought was real, was actually false. This must've been the wake up signal I was looking for.

Still, even if only to myself privately, I had the sinking feeling that even if everything was real and the Doctor did exist, he wouldn't be able to return me home.

My home was gone, I knew it.

Deep in my heart, I knew this to be true.


December 23, 2008.


Lately, I had been struck with a feeling of homesickness, a longing for home after my acceptance of its false nature and figurative demise. Unfortunately, I had nothing to describe it differently from Reality, as it was too similar.

So, I wrote about what I knew was false.

I wrote about Gallifrey, a home that was also gone forever. I felt that, in that moment, the Doctor and I were one and the same: homeless.

I blinked.

Burnt orange skies with grey wisps of clouds flying…

The sky was a rusty-tangerine color that somehow didn't surprise me as I looked up and over to the horizon. Two suns were at different locations as they went through their nine hour time in the sky with the moon, Pazithi Gallifreya, going through her twenty-seven day orbit, bright enough to be seen while the other moon hid almost shyly. Often the sky also flashed purple, green, and yellow lights, and sometimes, the sky flashed the soft baby-blue that we always saw up in our sky.

Startled at the sudden onslaught of information, I blinked again.

Winds whisper through the silver leaves with a soft sighing…

The scintillating, metallic-esque foliage glimmered at night, sending rays of the two moons' soft glow as it reflected off of them. The steel-colored leaves grew on the Kaden-Wood trees. Their natural color was silver, but it could appear to set itself aflame in the suns-light, varying from angry-orange, golden-yellow, scarlet-red, and occasional a reddish-violet. When the wind blew through it most times, they sighed in various pitches, but it was autumn. When the wind blew through and around the leaves, they sang as they were caressed by the gentle breeze.

Blink.

Red grasses brush against our legs as we dance slowly…

I could feel the grass, long that it was, and I saw a woman ahead of me spinning in slow, lazy circles. Her hair blowing from the soft zephyrs as they blew gently on the warm, autumn air. She seemed to sing in chorus with the Kaden-Wood trees as she swayed with them in the wind. "Join me, join me..." She called, urging me to twirl and be weightless against the wind so I could dance in it with her.

Blink.

My love lasts forever and comes while I remember fondly…

I was in golden fields of the Continent of Serene Isolation near the Ruins of Temple Rythia. The Maldor trees crying out in the own haunting way, but not quite as wistfully or pining as the Kaden-Wood trees; the bronze leave writhing and shivering as the trees swayed slightly. The bronze trees let out a keening lament as if grieving over the lost city and its absent Time Lords and Gallifreyans. They, the people, never usually came here, so far away from civilization and most of the outsiders were either in the wastelands, forests, or mountains.

I saw her, the woman, again as she closed her eyes and lamented with the trees, giving voice to their melancholy song, "That day has gone and they are no longer...We are forsaken, there's no time anymore...Life will pass us by and leave us resigned...We are forsaken, only ruins stay behind..." Her voice wavered as it rose and fell, mourning their loss and loneliness. She sang with a sort of controlled tremulousness, her voice ached with vulnerability, but never broke.

Blink.

Snowflakes that drift from the heavens like fallen stars…

Snow fell from the skies very rarely on Gallifrey, even though they were in the middle of what was considered an ice age, since rain was few and far between. My breath fogged the air in front of me. The fragile flakes rested on my eyelashes as they fluttered rapidly, blinking to keep the snowflakes out of my eyes. When I closed my eyelids, I felt the water crystals carefully land there and melt slowly. I remained standing, eyes closed, but the moment I opened them, the scenery changed.

And catching shimmering beatitude flies in glass jars…

I could smell the crisp night air and the scent of fragrant, blue, bell-like flowers. The flashing bugs came to the mountains only a few times every four seasons out of their twenty-four. It was a favorite game for young Gallifreyan to go catch these glistening and glittering creatures in fogged stained-glass jars. The jars were never in a plain white or yellow. They came in a variety of colors like reds, blues, greens, oranges, purples, and other colors that were outside of the color range of most species. The beatitude flies only came out (or maybe were only easy to find) after the both the suns had set and it became night. For that short period of time, the phosphorescent bodies were truly visible and shone clear and bright in the dim light of the moons.

Laughter rang in the fields as the children listened for the tell-tale chir-reep! chir-re-eep! of those gorgeous flies, hard to catch but so beautiful to behold in those glass jars. An hour before dawn, just when the other beatitude flies were leaving, they released the ones they had caught all at once. A glorious blizzard and vortex of light occurred from the flies dancing in the night air. The symphony of the cries of chir-reep! chir-re-eep! surrounded us all.

With a gasp and a jolt, I broke out of my trace, panting. I rested shaking hands against my throbbing head, trying to soothe the sudden migraine that had appeared. Paranoid, my eyes quickly scoped the room for any witnesses.

I was alone.


To Be Continued...


Edit:I combined the old chapters 4 and 5. It made more cohesive sense.

Edit 2: I also added more sections and stuff...Tried to make things less choppy, but I doubt I succeeded.

Poll: Closed. The winner is the Tenth Doctor at seven votes. His companion will be Donna.

Explanations:

*The undifferentiated subtype is diagnosed when people have symptoms of schizophrenia that are not sufficiently formed or specific enough to permit classification of the illness into one of the other subtypes. The symptoms of any one person can fluctuate at different points in time, resulting in uncertainty as to the correct subtype classification. Other people will exhibit symptoms that are remarkably stable over time but still may not fit one of the typical subtypes.

* Fergus Falls Regional Treatment Center is an actual place in Fergus Falls, Minnesota. It was closed in 2005, but it had been moving patients to smaller, community-based facilities for two decades. Minnesota sold the land to Fergus Falls in 2007. In May 2012, the building's future was uncertain. Preservationists have fought to save the main building, which was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1986.

Yet the city of Fergus Falls argued that the building was too large for a small town to redevelop or maintain and has considered demolishing it. In October 2012, Colliers Real Estate listed the building for sale. In May 2013, the City Council considered plans to renovate the building for residential and commercial use by developers, including one with experience in preservation of historic June the same year, a proposal was accepted by the City Council to renovate the building. The proposal included a hotel, apartments, restaurants, and a spa.

* Fergus Falls Community Behavioral Health Hospital is a hospital close to the Regional Treatment Center.

* Some of the side-effects of Lurasidone are: Absence of or decrease in body movement, loss of balance control, mask-like face, restlessness, rigid or stiff muscles, shakiness in the legs/arms/hands/feet, shuffling walk, confusion, dizziness, fixed position of the eye, nervousness, pale skin, unusual tiredness or weakness, weakness in the arm or leg on one side of the body (sudden and severe), loss of appetite, anxiety, relaxed and calm, unable to sleep, and abnormal dreams, among other things.

* The Fifth that Dr. Pierce was referring to was the right to remain silent.

*I have no clue whether or not "Head of Directories" is the right term, but I think it works alright.

* Before there is further confusion, Penny is only an online author, currently. She would have written up to 'The Empty Child' online in the year 2009. She won't start publishing in print until 2010 with the first book: 'Doctor Who: Rose.'

* Yes, the number 1,647 was correct. The Doctor was over 900 years old in his seventh regeneration. Then he claimed to be 900 once again in his ninth regeneration. Something wasn't adding up.

'1150 (1 year before the War)

1151 (a few days before the Event) The Ancestor Cell (from Gallifrey's POV): The Doctor (who is only 1018 at this point) arrives on Gallifrey and offers to supply Type 102 TARDISes and solve the riddle of the Edifice.

1807 (900 AF) (900 years after starting over on counting his age / after 900 years of traveling time and space / he might actually be older than 900 years old)'

As quoted from the site Rassilon, Omega, and that Other guy. With a bit of mathematical magic, I calculated his age. The site also mentioned the Doctor being reborn at one point, but I think that was from a doomed timeline that doesn't exist anymore, it's hard to tell. The Doctor has a super confusing timeline, seriously. :/ At the point Penny meets the Doctor, he's 1,677 years old, yeah.

* As to what she's forgotten, I've given you all the clues you need in the date. What happened in Doctor Who lore in the Year 2008, or rather, what happened for a year and then didn't happen?

* Those cool, rhyme-y, poem, lyric-like stuff is part of the poem I did for Gallifrey which can be found on my profile, titled: 'A Lament for Gallifrey.' Not as lame as it sounds, I swear!

* Also the part that the woman sang for the Maldor trees is based off of the song 'Forsaken' by Within Temptation. It totally set the mood for this chapter!


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TITLE: The Stars and a Little Bit More

AUTHOR: ArcticJacs

ID: 10177874

SUMMARY: Kylie isn't a stranger to time and space travel. Far from it. She has a Timepiece embedded into her arm, and it has given her the opportunity to see things out of this world - literally. She never expected it to crash, though. She didn't expect to find herself stranded in Earth. And she never, ever, expected to find stuff of legends and stories: the last Time Lord. [DoctorxOC]

OPINION: It's different, finally I found a fan fiction where the main character is an alien that isn't a Time Lord! It's worth checking out, I assure you. It takes place with the Judoon Upon the Moon, and it goes from there. Kylie's personality is also a bit different from usual. A refreshing read.


TITLE: The Traveler's Guide to the Universe

AUTHOR: Fan Fictional Authoress

ID: 9366006

SUMMARY: My sister had made it seem so easy, being an explorer and star-grapher. I wanted to go out there so badly, and she wanted to be a professor but there was no job openings. We were identical twins before I left and it was so perfect! But I left for the great big universe and everyone died, everything changed. I travel with the one who killed them, but he is all I have left of home.

OPINION: It may be a little self-serving to advertise my own story, but why not? It is probably my most researched story I ever made besides my 'A Ring of Endless Light' fan fiction. Also a different take on an overused plot that is rarely done well. So why don't you check it out?


Thought Process:

First thing's first, I would like to thank my lovely Beta, emptyvoices, for being awesome and helping me through the painful process that is chapter six. I'm hoping that the chapters will get easier from there, but we'll see.

Spring Break has started for me, but I'm not going to update any faster. Instead, I'm going to stock up on chapters and slowly dole them out, that way there shouldn't be long hiatuses... Is that right? Hiatuses? Or is it hiati?

Whatever.

Penny is in a mental institution. Things get worse for Penny's sanity from here... There might be some triggers, I don't know for sure, but just in case, be warned. The next chapter is when the Doctor finally comes on the scene.

So yeah, in this chapter, Penny's finally starting to lose it. Yay... You know, the sad thing is, when Penny was first admitted, she was almost completely sane (or as much as a person could be for all she went through) but now she's actually starting to lose it. Weird how that works right? ...Wow, that sounded terrible. Just ignore it, yeah, pretend this paragraph doesn't exist.

Things will start to look up for Penny after this chapter.

That was a lie I just told you.

It get worse for Penny.

Much, much worse.

I'm such a liar.

Really, I am.

And evil.

So, yeah, I think that's about it... Bless your face, and if you sneezed during this chapter, bless you.

Happy Friday,

FFA, the Fan Fictional Authoress

P.S. - Vote Saxxon!

Old Chapter 4's Date Submitted: Friday, March 21, 2014.

Old Chapter 5's Date Submitted: Monday, March 24, 2014.

Date Updated: Friday, March 28, 2014.