I own nothing. Least of all this.

1:3

I've never believed in coincidences.

I'd seen far too many impossible things in my admittedly dull life to even consider their existence with anything less than ridicule. This merely "sealed the deal", so to speak (Crowley jokes for the win).

"So, any idea why reality saw fit to grant me of all people my dream life?"

The TARDIS did a little *Be-Yoop*, which I guess was Its vocal equivalent of a shrug. I sighed. Seems She had as many answers as I did; which was to say, none.

Right, that could be mulled over later. Probably with a full mug and quite a few philosophy books. For now, I needed to figure out exactly where the Doctor was. No stone outside the door, which meant the Universe had already exploded. No Doctor, and still a Crack on the screen, which meant the explosion hadn't yet collapsed back in on itself and sealed the Doctor in. Mental math has always been something I excelled at, and it seemed a Time Lord upgrade had only furthered that skill. By my calculations, taking into account the time he would use putting young Amy Pond to bed, the Doctor was due to arrive in… less than twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes. That was loads of time! First things first, though. I was absolutely not going to be meeting the Doctor dressed in anything less than my best.

"Happen to know the quickest way to the wardrobe, Old Girl?"

The door at the top of the stairs to the left seemed to glow a bit more than its surroundings.

"Thanks love."

I followed the glow down several corridors, through twists and through turns, until I finally came to a room absolutely packed with clothes.

"Jackpot."

The first thing to go were my shoes. Good for running, maybe. Good for dangerous shenanigans, decidedly less so. Next were my jeans. Comfortable, but I was definitely gonna need more pockets. Jacket, shirt, and everything else followed.

A pair of black heavy-duty pants seemed to have enough cargo space, so I yoinked them first. And what does every pair of heavy-duty pants need? An equally heavy-duty leather belt. Next were boots to match the belt, with little pockets on the insides for snacks and escape tools. But mostly snacks. A black AC/DC t-shirt seemed appropriate, so I appropriated that as well. The green and black flannel I was wearing before had been my favorite, there was no way I was ditching that. Back on it went. Besides, flannel was cool. It took ages to go through all the coats, but in the end I settled on a knee-length gray leather one that looked as if it had survived the Time War. It had pockets, that was what mattered. A quick rifle through a certain long, brown duster produced a spare psychic paper, something I was sure would come in handy later. And what would a Time Lord be without some memorable neck-wear? A gray and black shemagh was thus procured and applied. To top it all off (see what I did there), a charcoal-gray newsboy cap with black specks was pulled on (but not too tightly. My hair was still awesome, after all).

I did a quick turn in front of a mirror.

"Marvelous. Hunter meets Time Lord. Couldn't be better."

That left only one item. One I anticipated being a bit harder to come by than clothes: a sonic. And I had only 14 minutes in which to find one. Easy.

8 minutes and a great deal of swearing later, I had my sonic. I would have still been swearing, if the TARDIS hadn't taken pity on me and shown me the box containing the Doctor's previous sonics… that had been right in front of my face the whole time. Still, thank Gallifrey for small mercies. The visor had taken the longest, but it was finished. I was now the proud owner of a sonic face mask that bore a singular resemblance to that of a certain Guardian of the Galaxy (hey, you go with what works). I placed the base next to my ear, and activated it. A single yellow line filled my vision, with readouts on everything I could ever need. Excellent. But I now had less than 6 minutes before him-in-the-bow-tie made his appearance… Looks like tea was gonna be a fairly rushed affair.

One table, a tea set, two chairs, a dozen Jammie Dodgers, and three minutes later, everything was in order. I sat back, and waited for the man.

"Hey, Old Girl?"

A *Ding* from the console.

"When Dickie Bow gets here, he's probably gonna feel a bit low, correct?"

An affirmative *Bleep*.

"Do you think he might, perhaps, enjoy a little music to lighten the mood?"

Instantly the sounds of the Beatles filled the TARDIS.

"Here come old flattop,

He come,

Groovin' up slowly,…"

Come Together, from the Abbey Road album. Appropriate, considering how many shirts I'd seen with Doctor Who characters imitating that classic pose.

I went back to my waiting, all the while contemplating exactly what exactly kind of a story I was going to tell the Doctor. Certainly not the truth. Rule one, Time Lords lie. And I really didn't want the Doctor to know that I knew most of his life, much less that I got it from a TV show. The appearance of a previously unknown Time Lord, i. e. me, had probably already thrown the events of the future I knew into absolute disarray. I absolutely could not let the Doctor rely on any information about a future that may not end up occurring at all.

KKKRAOWWWWW.

I turned. Ah, there it was. The last Crack. Kind of impressive, in an "I could utterly destroy you if I wanted" way. And coming through It, the Man of the Eleventh Hour: the Doctor.

I waited for his eyes to meet mine. I noticed they were still damp; probably due to his recent goodbye to little Amy. When they finally came to rest on me, they flashed. Within that flash, I saw confusion. Rage. And sorrow. Especially the last. All understandable reactions.

I held up the kettle.

"Would you care for some tea?"