This is the first original adventure! This is more of a prologue than an actual chapter, but I promise it has a point. Also, I would like to thank and congratulate ClanaFan01 for winning the little mini-contest from a couple chapters ago. Thanks for naming my mystery character!
.4.
The Year That Never Was
Part One
I fall onto a bed. A nice, cushy full sized bed, with a soft brown down comforter, a memory foam mattress, and a really strong bed frame, apparently. I just wanna curl up and sleep in it. But that's a little Goldie Locks for me. Besides, I have a job to do.
I roll off the bed, smoothing the wrinkles out of the nicely made bed once I'm standing. The small bedroom's walls are a gentle sky blue; besides a few shelves, the walls are bare. There's a tall dresser on one wall. No curtains, just blinds. A giant flat screen TV. The distinct smell of dirty socks. Bachelor's pad? Maybe, though the neat bed throws me off.
But this isn't important.
The windows are cracked open. Chaos drifts into the room. People are screaming. Children are crying. The room shakes each time something blows up. I peak between two blinds. The air is thick with Toclafane. I step away from the window, shaking the Tardis key in my hand. I sigh and place the rope necklace around my neck.
BOOM.
I jump back as what sounds like glass explodes from somewhere very close.
This must be what the blitz was like.
The light wood door out of the room is closed. I press my ear against it. Nothing. Well, not that I can tell from the hell breaking loose outside. I turn the knob slowly and stick my head out. Just a small white hallway with white closet doors across from the bedroom. I open the door further, stepping into the hallway. A bathroom to my left. I turn right, creeping down the hall. A small kitchen barely five feet from the bedroom. Lots of dirty dishes on the counter. Through the kitchen—more like a kitchenette from the size—is a table covered in manila folders, stacks of papers, and empty beer bottles. I skip the kitchen, moving forward into a living room. Leather couch, ragged brown armchair. Another giant television. Dirty plates scattered across a short glass coffee table. Thankfully, the curtains are drawn.
I turn around, eyes the door warily. The chain lock is not in place, so the chance of someone being in the apartment is slim. I think. I press my eye to the peephole, but the hall is empty.
BANG.
I jump at the gunshot, spinning around to glare at the curtains.
Hopefully whoever lives here isn't coming home anytime soon.
I play with the Tardis key. Wait. The Master said that there was a strong perception filter on me. What if there's a tracking device, too?
Shit.
Time to feel myself up. I run my hands down my legs, my butt, my pockets—oh wait, these pants don't have pockets. I feel as much of my back and I can. Nothing out of the ordinary. Down my shirt. Boobs look fine.
Vortex manipulator. Not the one on my right wrist. The one on my left, the one that got me into this mess to begin with. I try the strap.
Oh look at that. It's finally off.
Freaking thing.
"I hate you so much," I tell it.
To prove my point, I turn and throw it as hard as I can against a wall. Well, I meant to throw it against a wall. Instead, it hits a lamp, which falls to the wood floor with a crash.
Oops.
Note to self, buy the owner a new lamp.
I probably shouldn't leave a vortex manipulator laying around some random person's apartment. Sighing, I trudge over to the broken lamp and retrieve the hateful item.
An image from a movie pops into my mind. I can't remember what movie exactly, but I remember that someone had a tracking device on them and they flushed it down the toilet to confuse the people looking for them.
Sounds perfect.
I run to the bathroom. The toilet seat is already lifted. Smiling, I dump the manipulator into the toilet and, giggling like an insane person, flush the vortex manipulator into the sewer.
"Yes!" I shout, throwing my arms in the air as it flushes down without a problem. Score one for Lily!
I check my reflection in the mirror. Besides a few bruises on my forehead and cheek, I can't see anything. Just in case I missed something in my inspection for the perception filter, I start stripping, tossing my white shirt on the floor after giving it a quick inspection. My black tank top quickly joins it. Off come the shoes, the pants. Nothing. Finally, I pull of my bra and underwear. Nothing suspicious.
I glance in the mirror again, staring at my face. My skin is extra pale—unsurprising, what with all the food I haven't been eating. My nose ring sparkles. Ah, crap. What if it's small enough to fit on my jewelry?
Sighing, I pull out the nose ring and the two (fake) diamond studs in my ears, even my hair tie for good measure. Down the toilet they go. The toilet makes an ominous bubbling sound, but it flushes (mostly) fine.
Nothing on me but the Tardis key.
Is there a bigger mirror? Oh, behind the bathroom door. Perfect. I spin about, checking my back. Besides the sporadic freckle and, ew, a couple of pimples, I don't see anything.
I glance at the shower. Well, I'm already naked. Might as well.
I pull back the shower curtain. Yep, this is definitely a man's apartment. The shower is relatively clean, but the toiletries are of the male persuasion. I turn on the water, and then place the Tardis key on the sink. I have no idea if water will effect it, so better safe than sorry.
This is so wrong. But it's gonna feel amazing. And who knows when I will get this chance again?
I step into the steamy stream of water and moan. Yep. This is heaven right here.
Possibly thirty minutes later and three washes of my hair later, I step out of the shower. Whoops, forgot to grab a towel. The cabinet under the sink has nothing but a half empty tub of Drain-O. I shrug and adventure into the hall. I open the closet. Yay! Clean towels. I wrap one around my hair and, after patting myself dry, I wrap another one around myself.
My stomach grumbles. Well, no, it sounds more like a lion roaring. Welp. Might as well do a full Goldie Locks. Well, 2/3 Goldie Locks. I can't risk sleeping here. I tip toe into the kitchen and open the fridge.
Oh, thank you lord! This is one bachelor that actually has food. Oh, I have never seen anything so gorgeous as a full fridge. I pull an apple out of the crisper and take a big bite.
Hello, juicy goodness.
Moaning in ecstasy, I lean against the counter for a moment as I chew on the delicious ambrosia of the gods.
I check the freezer. Chocolate ice cream! I drop the apple on the counter, grab the carton of ice cream, and open every damn drawer in the whole tiny kitchen until I find a spoon. I rip the cover off the carton and dig right in.
I start dancing.
Yup, I've totally lost it.
I start raiding the kitchen, taking bites of shortbread, carrots, and chugging down a glass of milk. Eggs! Protein! I should really have protein. I wash a small skillet and heat it up. Eggs, eggs, eggs. I love eggs! If only he had some corned beef hash, but I guess I'm not THAT lucky.
I shove another biscuit into my mouth and crack my first egg onto the hot skillet. As soon as it starts sizzling, the door to the apartment bursts open. I jump, inhaling deeply.
And immediately start coughing.
Shit. Shitshitshit.
"Who the bloody hell are you?"
The first thing I see is the gun pointed at me.
I stare at the man. He stares at me. Quick inventory. Black pants. Short sleeves white shirt. Loose black tie. Black bulletproof vest. A utility belt that would make Batman proud. The blue patch that says police is not needed. Short brown hair is all askew. Face smudged with dirt. Bleeding from the upper left arm.
I feel for the Tardis key. Crap! It's in the bathroom. I throw my arms in the air, palms out.
"I can explain, Officer!"
Oh sure, Lily, because that always works.
"Chaos reigns and you use my shower and eat my food. I should arrest you where you stand." His voice is deep and gruff, reminding me of a combination between Alan Rickman and Eliza Doolittle's father.
"I'm sorry, Officer" I say. "If you'll just let me explain…"
"How did you even get in?"
I bite my lip. "I, uh, teleported." How lame does that sound?
And then it happens.
The towel comes loose.
And falls to the floor.
I freeze, horrified.
The police officer stares at my breasts.
Blushing, I bend down and gather the moist towel. "I'm so sorry," I plead. "I don't mean any harm, Officer. Honest." I wrap the towel around myself, but don't stand. "I haven't eaten in days, I was kidnapped by the Master, I'm not even from this reality, I'm from a much more sane one where there are no aliens and no flying Toclafane going around killing people, except for on TV, which is how I got into this mess, because the Master learned I knew what was going to happen and tried to use me against the Doctor and he killed Martha and now I'm here because I'm supposed to make things better, and I landed in your bed, and I'm sorry I used your shower and ate your food, Officer, but I was just so hungry."
By the end of my tirade, I'm huddled on the floor crying into my hands and I don't think he understood anything I just said. I'm not even sure I was saying real words anymore.
He sighs and holsters his gun. "Constable."
I look up from my hands. "Huh?"
"I'm a constable, a detective constable, a DC, not an officer," he kneels down. "You do know you're in Britain, yes?"
I sniff. "Yes."
"Good," he shakes his head. "I have no idea what you were just blubbering about."
I wipe my nose. "Don't worry about it. I'll grab my things and go." Sniffling, I pull the towel of my head and trudge past the constable or whatever. Well, at least I got a little food in me and I didn't get shot. Better than nothing, I suppose.
"Half a mo," the man says before I enter the bathroom. I turn to him, wrapping my arms across my chest. "Have I met you before?"
I shrug. "I have one of those faces."
"No," he says. "I've met you. You're hair was shorter then. You saved my life."
I almost smile. "How short?"
"Just a bit longer than mine."
This time I do smile. "Where?"
"You don't remember?"
"It's been one of those days. Obviously."
As if to emphasize my point, something outside crashes.
"Canary Wharf."
I blow out a breath. Oh, time travel. How I love you!
"Would you believe me if I said that hasn't happened to me yet?"
He just stares at me. "After what I have seen today, I will believe most anything."
Thank you. Thank you, Jesus! I am very happy to not be killed before even starting my mission.
The constable shakes his head, as if waking himself from a dream, and wipes at his eyes.
"What happened?" I ask.
He tilts his head at me, giving me a clear "Are you insane?" look. "Have you been outside?"
"No, actually," I lean against the wall. "I told you, I teleported here." I shake my head. "I mean, duh, I know what happened. But I meant, what happened to you, specifically?"
He runs a hand through his hair. "When those… things came down from the sky and started killing everyone…" he sighs and looks at the ground. "I tried to save her."
I take a step towards him. "Girlfriend?"
"No," he says, rubbing a hand over his face. "No, no, no. My partner. Jillian Firth. They… killed her."
I lean against the wall. "I'm sorry," I whisper.
He sniffs, then looks down at me. He has a far way to look. He's very tall. "Cheers."
I gnaw my lower lip some more. "Listen… I'm going to set this right. A year from now today… well, she won't be dead."
He shakes his head and laughs in disbelief. "How is that even possible?"
"How is it possible that billions of robot aliens ripped open the sky and swooped down on us like demons from hell?"
He doesn't have an answer for that. We stand there, very awkward-like, for a few minutes, listening to the outside.
"Look, I hate to be a bother, well, more of a bother, but would you happen to have any clothes I could… borrow? I don't trust the ones I came with. They might have a tracking device or something on them."
He raises an eyebrow. I think of the Doctor, remember my mission. I should really get on this.
"What's your name?" he asks, folding his arms over his chest.
"Li…" I hesitate. I probably shouldn't trust him. So, "Lizzie. Lizzie Smith. Yours?"
"Michael O'Lachlan."
Awkward pause time again.
I bite my lip. "So… is that a yes or no?"
