Author's Note: ….I have nothing to say but I'm OCD so I must put an author's note at the beginning of each chapter. Ummm happy Monday everyone. :P

Chapter 9

The Doctor—the man who called himself the Doctor—skidded to a stop in front of a house, the sonic screwdriver pointed directly in front of him. "Here. It's here. This is the epicenter. Whatever happened, it happened here." He strode up onto the porch, which creaked under his feet, and Rey scrambled up after him with a sigh. The door to the house lay fallen forward, as if blown out by some kind of explosion, and she could see glimpses of the inside of the house.

It was wobbly.

"We've got to be careful. There's time energy all over the place here." He took a careful step toward the door. "Follow me exactly."

She nodded quickly, the image of the frightened woman still hovering in her mind. She followed a few steps behind him as he stepped through the door and into the dusty living room, his eyes glued to the sonic screwdriver. He skidded to a stop in the middle of the living room and looked around.

"This doesn't make any sense!" He turned, looking in every direction. "According to my readings, this is the epicenter. This is where it happened. But there's nothing. Just a ridiculous amount of spilled time energy to account for it."

"So—it happened in the past." She kept carefully by his side. "Which means—"

"No." He turned towards the door. "I know what you're about to say, and no."

"You're not just leaving me here!" She darted after him and skidded to a stop, staring hard at the wall opposite her. "Uh…" She took a careful step closer, her eyes fixed on the wall, all thoughts of the stranger who called himself the Doctor banished from her mind.

Scratched into the wall, as if by the claws of some animal, was her name.

Rey.

The letters were sloppy and looked as if they had been scratched there in a hurry, and they were nearly covered with a layer of dirt and dust. She took a step closer, as if drawn by some force. The ancient wallpaper peeled away, falling in strips down the wall. She ran a finger across her name, leaving a swipe in the dirt—and revealing a hint of another word.

A message.

A message—written to her. From sometime in the past.

She spread the wallpaper back into place and brushed the dirt away with careful fingers. Rey. The words appeared piece by piece as she unearthed them from the dust. He is the Doctor. March 2, 2018.

For a moment she just stared at the wall, trying to process what she was seeing. Someone from the past had known she would be here, in the future, to read this message. Someone—

He is the Doctor.

Doctor….

"Doctor?" She turned, slowly. "Doctor, I'm—"

But he was gone.

Before she could stop herself, she was running. Running through the dusty living room, out the door, and stumbling down the creaking steps. She flew across the cracked pavement, the houses rushing by. "Doctor!" Her voice and the pounding of her footsteps were the only noises in the night. "Doctor—"

BB8 let out a screech and slammed into her legs, sending her stumbling sideways and falling into the grass with a little cry. She jumped to her feet, glaring at the droid.

"What was that—"

BB8 looked up at her and let out a little beep, swiveling its head between her and—something. She narrowed her eyes. The droid saw something—

Oh.

Oh.

That was the place where the woman had stood—the woman caught in time energy, whose existence had been pulled to pieces—the frightened woman. BB8 had—BB8 had—

She took a step forward, a little slower this time. She had to get out of here. She had to get out of this wasteland now.

Before she suffered the same fate.

The houses loomed up like shadowy ghosts, blocking out the stars, as she made her way through the dark town. And the fog was creeping in again, like a cold, heavy blanket. Was it fog or time energy? She couldn't tell. But she tried to keep a sharp lookout for that strange wobble, each step careful, keeping the cracked path in front of her like a lifeline. BB8 moved behind her like a shadow in the night.

The gate loomed up before her like a prison gate and she came to a stop, scanning along it. The Doctor couldn't have just jumped in and left—not so quickly. Could he?

Please—please.

He's my only way out.

She took a step closer, her heart thumping in her ears, her fingers tightening on her staff. "Doctor?" Her voice seemed small in the darkness, and yet it echoed. "Doctor, are you—"

Her eyes fell on a large block of shadow and then she was darting forward, grabbing at the door handles, and tugging. "Doctor!" She pounded on the door. "Doctor, I know where to—argh!" She let out a little cry of frustration and tugged again—and then drew the key from her pocket, slipped it in the keyhole, and swung the door open, stepping inside.

"She's uncomfortable," the Doctor said without turning. "She wants out of here, badly. Something's wrong. Something's very, very wrong. I'm leaving. And you're not—" He turned suddenly, staring at her. "What's that?" he said. "In your hand."

"It's—the key? The key to the TARDIS…" She leveled a steady gaze at him. "Doctor. Listen. I know where to go. There was a message—"

He strode towards her and her hand went slowly to her staff. If he really was the Doctor he wouldn't hurt her. He wouldn't throw her out or steal the key or—or—

He slammed the door behind her. "Get in," he said. "You're coming with me."