Lyssa sighed as she settled into her seat in the airplane by the window, grateful that her seatmate hadn't arrived yet and she had time to collect herself. Impatiently shoving her dark brown bangs out of her face as they fell in front of her eyes once more, she buckled the seat-belt and prepared for a very long trip to England. Leaning back against the headrest, she closed her eyes wearily, only to open them again as her smartphone buzzed in her purse. Unzipping the bag and pulling it out, she glanced at the screen and bit her lip as she saw the caller.
Her mother was calling her. She must've finally realized that Lyssa had been gone for the last two days.
She hesitated for a minute, contemplating just tossing it back in her bag, but decided to answer one more time before saying goodbye for good. Maybe... maybe she could end things on a better note? Maybe this time, her mother was actually worried about her? Despite herself, she felt a faint hope beginning to build in her heart. Trying to tamp it down before it could grow too big - or even grow at all - she swiped her finger across the answer icon, and held the phone up to her ear.
"Hello?" she answered cautiously.
Her mother's angry voice emanated from the phone, making her wince as the last remnants of her hope crumbled into dust like all her other dreams of her mother ever acting like her mom again. Like the caring woman Lyssa remembered from her childhood.
Like the woman who had disappeared when her father died as if she had never existed in the first place.
"Alyssa Mae Devons, where are you? I just checked my bank account and found that over ten thousand dollars have been withdrawn! What have you done?"
Lyssa pressed her lips together, fighting back the urge to cry for some stupid reason. She'd known her mother would be more concerned about the money than her. She'd known that her mother didn't really care about her at all.
And yet she'd still hoped.
Swallowing down the bitter feelings of frustration and hurt, she forced herself to remain calm, reminding herself that this was the last time she would have to deal with this. She'd sworn to herself that she'd be strong this time, that she wouldn't go back anymore. And after what had happened... she couldn't. She wouldn't.
Hopefully.
"The ten thousand dollars were mine, Mother," she responded quietly, grateful that by some miracle her voice remained steady. "The only reason it was in there in the first place was because you'd convinced me that we needed to pool our money to have enough to survive off of, and I know that you've been taking money out of it for your own things. I didn't even take everything that was mine. You can keep the rest. I won't need it anymore."
"You ungrateful child!" her mother fumed. "After everything I gave up for you, everything I suffered through to raise you, this is how you repay me? Where are you?"
Lyssa looked around, raising an eyebrow at the large wings visible outside the window and all the passengers slowly boarding the plane and settling into their seats. "I mean, it looks like a plane to me, but... I could be wrong," she muttered sarcastically. "So don't worry. You won't have to be bothered about 'sacrificing' yourself for me anymore. Not that you ever did in the first place, so it shouldn't be too hard for you to adjust," she added with just a hint of spite.
"A plane?" her mother repeated shrilly. "And just where do you think you're going that you'd waste all that money on a plane ticket? You know how strapped we are for cash! How could you do this to me? My only daughter - how could you abandon me so cruelly?" she demanded, letting her voice wobble as though she were speaking through tears.
Lyssa snorted. "As if you actually care. If you must know, I'm leaving. For good," she pronounced the word with satisfaction. "I'm moving to England to stay with some friends, and I won't be coming back." 'To you' remained unspoken, but she hoped her mother could hear it. "I've got everything I need, and you can take the rest of my stuff and sell it like you always threatened to do anyways. I'm twenty years old, so it's perfectly legal for me to do this."
She paused, the next words coming out more bitterly than she would have liked. "And if you really cared that much about me going - if you really cared about me at all - you would have noticed me preparing for this a long time ago. So go sell my stuff and party all night like you always do. I don't care anymore."
Her mother's voice softened. "Now, Alyssa, you know that I've only ever tried my hardest to raise you all by myself after your father died. I know I made a few mistakes along the way, but surely none bad enough to warrant this kind of a reaction. Now, why don't you get off that plane, and come home, and we can work this out. It's not too late for you to come back. You're my daughter - I can forgive this, we can work through whatever is bothering you, and then we'll put it behind us like it never happened," she offered, as if a scenario similar to this hadn't played out multiple times before. As if Lyssa hadn't tried to have a relationship with her mother, only to have her hopes crushed each time.
Lyssa just shook her head, suddenly tired of the whole conversation. "We've tried that before, Mother. Remember? It lasted for about two weeks before you started going out partying every night again, then spending the mornings yelling at me for not doing what you had never told me to do. I've tried to make it work, but it's clear that you're not going to change. So thanks for 'raising' me - although I don't know that I would call what you did raising - but it's time for me to move on."
"Alyssa..." her mother started, no doubt about to offer up some sob story like every other time Lyssa had fallen for it before she cut her off.
"It's Lyssa, Mother. You know that I don't like being called 'Alyssa.' I've never liked it. You don't respect me, you don't respect my boundaries, you can't even respect my request to be called 'Lyssa.'" She looked up as the flight attendant walked into the middle of the aisle, a life jacket in hand. "Sorry, Mother. Looks like the flight attendant's about to start the safety spiel, and I'll need to put my phone away for that. Maybe I'll send you a note sometime from England." She paused, wondering if she should say anything else before steeling herself. "Don't try to call me again. Goodbye, Mother."
Ignoring the loud tirade that started to stream from the phone, she hung up and instantly set her phone to airplane mode so that she couldn't receive any more calls from her mother - or anyone else she might rope into trying to guilt her into returning back to the house. Then, upon considering it, still high from her previous success, she went into her settings and blocked her mother's phone number.
Tucking her phone back into her purse, she blew out a long breath, resting her elbow on the armrest and rubbing her hands over her face. She didn't bother looking up when the person who was due to sit next to her finally arrived and sat down.
That was a mistake, as she nearly smacked herself in the face when he spread his arm over the armrest, pushing her own arm off and apparently claiming it as his own. Not sure that had really just happened, she looked at the man next to her with an incredulous eyebrow raise. He just shrugged and pulled out a newspaper, burying himself in it and ignoring her.
She rolled her eyes and curled up against the wall, glad that she at least got a window seat. Only vaguely paying attention to the safety talk by the attendant, she watched with gratitude as the plane finally took off from the runway and began the roughly nine hour flight to England. The ground rapidly disappeared, dwindling away into nothing as they took off into the sky. Pulling out her earbuds and phone, she lowered the window shade to keep the sun from reflecting off the screen and pulled up an episode of Doctor Who on her phone, grateful that she'd been able to download several of the seasons before she had left.
xXx
Four hours later, she had watched six of her favorite episodes, and her eyes had started to hurt from staring at a screen for so long. She closed them wearily and leaned back, raising a hand to her mouth to cover a yawn. She'd gotten up early to make sure she was at the airport in time to get through security, and she was paying for it now.
She shifted in her seat as one of her legs threatened to cramp, trying not to bother the man next to her, who was still staring at his newspaper, trying to figure out the crossword puzzle. Wanting a change of scenery, however brief, she lifted the shade and glanced out the window, sure she'd see the same blue skies and wispy clouds she'd seen every other time she'd done so, before doing a double take. It was nearly noon, so the flight attendants would be bringing lunch by soon, but outside it was nearly black. She could have sworn it was sunny just an hour or two earlier.
A ding at the front of the plane caught her attention. Glancing up, she saw that the 'fasten seat-belt' light was on. She'd never taken it off in the first place, but it couldn't hurt to make sure it was securely fastened. She gave it a solid tug as one of the stewardesses started to speak over the intercom.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we're going to be encountering some unexpected turbulence ahead due to an unforeseen storm. Please fasten your seat-belts and all loose items. Thank you."
Lyssa frowned. She had checked the weather before she left, and it said nothing about a storm anywhere along her flight path. Granted, weather was ever-changing, and planes were built to handle all types of weather, but this was one of her first trans-Atlantic flights. She figured she was granted at least a little bit of useless worry. Now sure her seat-belt was fastened securely, she put her phone and earphones into her bag, then tucked them underneath her seat, trapping it there with her feet.
And not a moment too soon, as they encountered the edge of the storm. It started out gentle enough, just a minor shaking of the plane. It didn't stay that way, however, quickly growing worse, and the plane was soon filled with the clatter of items falling onto the floor as poorly secured - or never secured at all - items went flying.
Her seat companion seemed to be growing nervous. "Why are we dealing with turbulence?" he muttered, looking around nervously. "Planes are supposed to go around thunderstorms, not through them!"
Lyssa ignored him and the similar comments coming from other anxious flyers and looked out the window. Unfortunately, his statement seemed to have some basis in truth, as she saw a bright flash of lightning split the sky, quickly followed by another. The stewardess got on the intercom again.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please do not be alarmed. While we have encountered a thunderstorm, our pilots are working on flying us out and around the storm at this very moment. The airplane is perfectly safe, and has been designed to fly safely through storms just such as this one. Please remain calm."
"Calm?" the man next to her scoffed. "Calm, when we could go down at any minute?"
Lyssa raised her eyebrows at him, his hysteria doing wonders to calm her own fears. The plane was turbulent, yes. And sure, she'd seen the movies of planes going down in ferocious thunder storms, but the key point there was movies. Fiction. She highly doubted airplanes would be so popular if they all went down like that.
But then again, car accidents happened all the time, and there was certainly no shortage of those on the road.
Another flash of lightning followed by a booming sound as the plane shook again made several passengers scream before laughing nervously when they failed to immediately plummet from the sky.
"We've been hit by lightning!" the man gasped, now sweating profusely. "This is it, we're all going to die," he muttered frantically, eyes wide and desperate. "I'm too young! I haven't made it far enough! This can't be happening!"
The stewardess came on the intercom again, sounding a bit frazzled. "Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm," she implored them. "The airplane is perfectly safe, and has sustained no damage from the storm. However, we are going to be facing more extreme turbulence before we can escape the storm cell, so please remain in your seats."
Another flash of lightning followed by some more violent shaking seemed to punctuate her statement.
Lyssa drew in a breath, and blew it out of her nose, forcing herself to remain calm. Hundreds of airplanes navigate safely through thunderstorms every year, she reminded herself, trying to ignore the way her neighbor was gripping the armrests so tight his knuckles were white, and the way said grip tightened every time the plane shook, which was occurring at a frightening rate.
Outside the window, the sky was near-constantly lit by the flashes of lightning, and the turbulence was getting rougher. When a particularly close lightning strike was followed by a shaking and a sudden dip of the plane, her heart started to race, and she couldn't help but grip her armrest as tight as the man next to her.
When another flash of lightning and severe dip was followed by a loud bang, and an oxygen mask dropped from the ceiling in front of her, she just stared at it in bewilderment. Quickly gathering her wits, she placed it around her mouth and strapped it on, breathing in the supplied oxygen and trying to focus around the roaring in her ears.
Noticing the man next to her was having some trouble, and seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating, she quickly helped him fasten it around his head. He muttered muffled thanks through the mask, but she waved him off. Refusing to let herself panic, no matter how strong the inclination was to take desperate gasps of air, she forced herself to take slow, even breaths. Her fingernails dug into the armrest, leaving indents in the material but clearing her head just enough that she no longer felt quite so overwhelmed.
The pilot came on for the first time since they'd started the flight, doing his utmost to sound completely professional and unflustered despite an underlying tension. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. Please put on the oxygen masks the way you were shown at the start of the flight. We have experienced a loss in cabin pressure, and are going to be forced to make an emergency landing on an island below. We are going to do our utmost to keep you safe the whole time, so please remain calm, assume the brace position, and place your hands over your heads. Thank you."
Lyssa gasped in fright, bending over and placing her hands above her head, noticing that the plane was now sharply angled downwards, lightning still striking furiously on the other side of the window and thunder was near constantly booming. She forced herself to close her eyes, blocking out the terrifying sight and praying under her breath as a sob caught in her throat.
The landing, when it came, was less jarring than she had expected, although still uncontrolled. She cried out when the edge of something heavy landed on her hands, the sharp point crushing into the bones and cracking something in her left hand. After what felt like an age of sliding and screams from her fellow passengers and yet was probably less than a minute, the plane slowly slid to a stop, miraculously still upright.
Cautiously moving her hands, and wincing when her left protested at the motion, she slowly sat up and looked around her. The plane was a mess, but most of the people seemed to be all right, if terribly frightened. Sobs and pleading prayers rose up from all over the plane, some in thanks and some in fear.
One of the flight attendants took charge, removing her mask and pushing herself to a standing position, speaking over the intercom with a calm authority despite her disheveled appearance. "Ladies and gentlemen, give me your attention please! The plane has landed and is currently secure, but we need to exit as soon as possible for precaution's sake. Please remain calm and wait for those by the emergency exits to open them, and then exit in a calm and orderly fashion. Those who are injured, please wait in your seats and you will be assisted shortly. The authorities are aware of our situation, and aid is on its way."
As the people by the emergency exit doors began to open them and quickly file off the plane once the slide had inflated, Lyssa pulled off her oxygen mask and unbuckled herself, waiting impatiently for the man next to her to do the same. Except once free, he reached up to grab his carry-on bag from above.
"No!" she snapped, glancing around at the crowd of frantic people, held up at various points by others trying to do the same thing. "We don't have much time, and you're blocking people's exits. You can get it later!" Seeing the mad rush around them, he reluctantly agreed and started heading down the aisle towards the closest door as she followed close behind.
Slipping easily down the evacuation slide and bouncing to her feet, she saw all the passengers were heading in a rush towards what seemed to be a large cave. It was a short distance from the rocky beach the plane had landed on, but the lightning was still striking furiously, meaning they had to move fast. Mostly uninjured, Lyssa moved to assist the exiting passengers, helping them off the slide and ushering them towards the cave.
"Keep going towards the cave!" she yelled, trying to be heard over the continuous noises surrounding them. She glanced up, noticing an older man trying to help his apparently injured wife down the slide without aggravating her injury. Another passenger helped them reached the bottom safely, then left to assist another.
Seeing that they had difficulty crossing the large rocks of the beach, she placed the elderly woman's other arm around her shoulders and helped them reached the smoother sand around the cave. They tried to thank her, but she shook her head and pointed towards the entrance. "Get into the cave!" she shouted over the thunder and raging winds before hurrying back to assist where she could.
Eventually all the passengers had been evacuated and the crew began to exit. She and a few others tried to see if they needed help, but the pilot, at the front of the group, shook his head. "Everyone's on their way out. Get to the cave!" he directed them, trying to make himself heard.
She nodded and took off for the cave, the wind blowing her ponytail every which way. She was almost to the cave when she saw it coming. A few of the others saw it too, and stopped in horror. She barely had time to instinctively raise her hands above her head to try and futilely protect herself when the lightning struck, the light searing her retinas and making her hair stand on end as everything went black.
xXx
When awareness returned, her eyes were shut tight and she was no longer standing. Although... she didn't seem to be laying down, either. She patted the area around her, growing frightened when she failed to contact anything solid. She could feel nothing around her, not even the ground.
Was she paralyzed?
Except - she couldn't be. She could feel the fabric of her clothes against her skin, feel her hair being blown into her face by the wind. So... what was going on? What had happened?
Screwing up her courage, she prepared to open her eyes, wondering that she was even still alive. When she finally managed to actually do it, she froze in horror at the sight before her. She was not lying on the rocky ground of some island in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by her fellow survivors and a presumably broken plane as she had expected.
Instead, she was slowly spinning around in what seemed to be space, with galaxies and nebulae and stars flowing past her. And all around her was a golden vortex that seemed to go on forever, extending endlessly in both directions. Frightened, she gasped, only to stop as she realized that she was breathing.
Cautiously she drew another one, then another, eventually concluding that wherever here was - for it couldn't actually be space - she was able to breathe. "Okay," she said in a shaky voice. "I'm breathing. In what looks like space. I'm hallucinating. The lightning knocked me out, and now I'm in a coma. Just like in the movies." She pinched her arm hopefully, only to falter when her surroundings remained unchanged. A whimper slipped out despite her best efforts. "I need to wake up now, please. I know that I'm dreaming, shouldn't I wake up now? Why can't I wake up?"
She looked around her, but found no one, saw no end to the vortex and galaxies spinning by. There was no light at the end of a tunnel, no voices calling her name, nothing to aim for. Just endless stars.
She wrapped her arms around herself in a paltry effort at self-comfort, only to instinctively jerk her hand back with a cry when she felt a sharp pain in her left hand. Clutching her wrist to stabilize it, she looked her hand over, noticing the long scrape across it for the first time. The area around it was extremely tender to the touch as well, and she remembered how something had fallen on her hand during the crash landing. Whatever it was must have broken one or more of her bones, or at least bruised her enough that it felt like it was broken. But more frightening than that was the thought that occurred to her immediately after.
She'd never felt pain in dreams before, no matter how bad her nightmares got.
Gritting her teeth, she tried to think of some way to deal with it. Wherever she was, she could apparently still feel pain, and she didn't want to be constantly aggravating it. Glancing down, she saw her pink scarf fluttering around her neck in the winds and gently brushing against her jean jacket.
Well, that was convenient.
Carefully undoing the loose knot with her uninjured hand, she slowly pulled it off her neck and began to painstakingly wrap it around her left hand and fingers in an attempt to keep them from moving, wincing when she accidentally wrapped it too tight the first time and her hand protested. Naturally, now that she was aware of the pain, it was starting to increase. Once she was done, she managed to tie it into a rough knot that would hopefully hold until she was able to find help.
Finished with that, she looked around at her surroundings again, only to find that nothing had really changed. She swallowed hard. She'd never had a dream like this before. Never one that felt so real.
She'd never felt so alone before.
Fighting back tears, she curled into herself as much as she was able. "It's a hallucination, I'm dreaming, this is all just a dream. I got struck by lightning, and now I'm in a coma, and dreaming that I'm in space. It's just a dream, it has to be." She placed her hands over her head and tried to block out the impossible sights that were happening right in front of her, praying that she would wake up - if not now, then soon. "It's just a dream," she pleaded, her voice breaking on the last word.
xXx
She didn't know how long she'd been trapped in this dream - though it felt like it had been hours - when she felt something change. She could sense the darkness lessen through her closed eyes, and she felt something stable form beneath and behind her, leaving her curled up on the first solid surface she'd touched since she'd been struck. The wind start to fade, but she only shrunk tighter into her ball, clutching her broken hand to her chest and wrapping the other protectively around her head, refusing to open her eyes. Maybe she'd finally woken up, but she didn't want to face the reality of the plane crash just yet.
She remained that way for several minutes, trying to even out her shaky breathing, only to frown when she heard a faint tapping sound, slowly growing louder and more clear. Eventually it came close enough for her to realize that it was footsteps approaching her position.
Eyes jerking open despite herself, she cautiously peered out from behind her arm. She heard the footsteps come closer, and flinched back, only to be forcibly halted by an immovable force. Glancing behind her, she saw that she was leaning against some sort of large glass pillar covered in wires that extended from floor to ceiling, and there were metal gears and tools scattered carelessly all around her in a large room lit by orange light from some unknown source.
The room felt familiar to her for some reason, even though she could truthfully say that she'd never been there before. Goosebumps prickled her arms, and she rubbed at them for warmth, wishing for a blanket, or even her coat, wherever that was. Still on the plane with the rest of her luggage, no doubt.
She frowned at the thought. She was obviously no longer on the island, unless there was some advanced civilization none of them had known about. Had they been rescued already, and she was in some sort of hospital waiting room? Except it didn't look like any that she'd ever seen before, and there were no staff bustling about.
"It's not here!" a male voice called in a British accent from somewhere above her, making her flinch and try to shrink into the pillar. She really didn't think she was in a hospital, so where was she?
"Well, then, look below the console. It's got to be there somewhere!" another British voice called back.
A loud sigh followed by descending, clattering footsteps made her panic as she realized that they were coming towards her.
Shrinking back against the pillar as much as she could, she tried to make herself small and invisible, wrapping her arm even tighter around her head. The footsteps came closer, then stopped.
She could feel someone staring at her, and tucked her head further into her arm.
"Lyssa! Are you all right?"
She froze. That voice - it couldn't be. Slowly uncurling her arm, she looked up and confirmed her fear. There, standing in front of her, looking very concerned, was Rory Williams - one of the characters from the very show she had watched earlier that day, complete with plaid shirt.
Except... she was awake - she had to be! This was nothing like any dream she'd had before, and her obviously broken hand was still very much present, which meant this had to be reality.
Except it couldn't be.
"No, no, no, no," she mumbled in growing hysteria, shaking her head and trying to back away from him as he stepped forward towards her. "Stay away from me!"
He crouched down in front of her slowly, one hand out towards her, the other on his chest. "Lyssa, it's me. Rory. Rory Williams? You remember me, don't you?"
She shook her head slowly, tears of fear stinging her eyes no matter how hard she tried to blink them back. "I don't - I don't know you. Who are you?" she whispered, voice threatening to break.
He frowned, his appearance of concern growing. "I'm Rory Williams. Amy's husband. We travel with you and the Doctor." He spoke as if it were old news, as if she should know that, then paused and tried to come closer.
Lyssa instantly panicked and tried to scramble away. "No, stay back!" she pleaded again, trying to use her hands to scoot backwards and around the pillar, only to cry out when she put weight on her injured hand and her arm gave way beneath her. She flinched, nearly falling over before she managed to steady herself with her other hand.
He instantly froze, both hands up in the air. "No, no, it's all right! I'll stay here, I promise. Just, try and calm down, all right? You've been hurt, and you could make it worse if you start to panic. Take deep breaths, like me. See?" He drew a few deep breaths as example. She managed to copy him, feeling her panic start to lessen as she drew in more oxygen. He waited until she was calm enough to focus on him before continuing. "Do you really not know who I am?" he asked quietly, brow wrinkled in concern.
She leaned back against the wall, looking him over carefully. He looked like Rory Williams in every way, but given that he was a fictional character... "I know who you look like, but I also know that it's not possible for you to be him," she said shakily, clutching her injured hand to her chest again. "And I don't know what you're going to do, not now. I don't even know where I am," she whispered, her voice breaking.
The man nodded slowly, keeping his voice calm and steady. "Okay. Um, well, I'm not going to pretend I know what you're talking about." He paused, clearly trying to come up with something to say. "Let's just say that I have one of those faces, shall we? I get mistaken for people a lot. But I promise that whoever I look like, I'm real, and I'm a nurse. I know that your hand is hurting you. Can I see it? Maybe I can help."
Lyssa eyed him warily. He maintained his open demeanor, and held out his hand, palm up. After a minute of tension, she decided that things couldn't get much worse than they were now, and held out her hand for him to examine. No matter who he actually was, he looked like Rory Williams - one of her favorite characters, and despite herself, she couldn't help but want to trust him. He gently untied and removed the scarf, then carefully placed his hand under hers as support. He was just about to examine it when a voice rang out from above them, startling them both.
"Rory! What's taking so long? You should've gotten it by now, it's not that hard to find!" The voice was accompanied by footsteps striding into the room above them. Lyssa instantly retracted her hand, and jerked back into the pillar, heart thumping against her chest so fast it was almost painful.
The man - who was apparently actually named Rory - threw up his hands again. "No! Don't worry! It's just the Doctor." Raising his voice, he called, "Doctor, I'm down here, below the console! You... might want to see this."
"See what? Rory, who are you talking to? Are you talking to yourself again?" the man's voice called back, growing louder as he came down the stairs. "And you might want to hurry, Amy's getting very..." he cut himself off as he rounded the pillar and saw them sitting there. "Impatient," he finished weakly. "Lyssa?" he said incredulously, staring at her.
Lyssa froze, staring at the impersonation of the Eleventh Doctor. He started to rush towards her, only to stop when she flinched back from him. She didn't know what was going on, or why these people were acting like they knew her, but she definitely knew she didn't know them.
Rory held up a hand in caution, thankfully maintaining a respectful distance from her. "Doctor, I don't think she knows who we are."
"Yes, she does," the man who looked like the Doctor tried to argue. "She always knows who we are." He paused, apparently finally seeing the look of shock on her face. "Don't you?" he asked her uncertainly.
"What am I doing here?" Lyssa asked shakily, looking between the two men with increasing confusion and some fear. "How did I get here? What is this place?"
The supposed Doctor's face filled with worry. "Lyssa... Please tell me you know who I am. We need to figure out how wounded you are."
She frowned, trying to keep the hysterical edge out of her voice. "Why do people keep asking that? First him, and now you. I hurt my hand, not my head! What's going on? And how do you know my name?" she demanded.
Both strangers sounded far too genuine for this to be some sort of joke by her friends - not to mention she doubted they'd play a prank on her when she'd been hurt.
The 'Doctor' looked her over then, really looked her over, pausing just below her face, and physically staggered back a step, going white. After a moment of just staring at her dumbly, looking lost, he swallowed hard and sat down carefully next to Rory.
"Lyssa," he said softly. "What I'm about to tell you is going to be very hard to hear, and believe me, I am so, so sorry about this. But I'm the Doctor, this is Rory Williams, and his wife, Amelia Pond, is upstairs. You're in my TARDIS, and everything you know about me is real."
She raised an eyebrow, suddenly wondering if she wasn't dreaming after all. "Right. I just survived a plane crash and hit my head - and somehow I magically ended up in your TARDIS? I might be hallucinating, but I'm not crazy."
The Doctor - for she might as well call him that - sighed, looking more pained than before. "You did warn me," he muttered, in a voice so low she wasn't sure she'd been meant to hear it before continuing in a louder tone. "All right, then. Would you believe you were in the TARDIS if I proved it to you?"
Lyssa studied him, weighing her fear versus wanting to see the TARDIS, even if it was in a dream - which she was seriously starting to doubt. And if it was something else, even something as unlikely as a prank, it couldn't hurt to see how'd elaborate it got.
Curiosity won out.
"All right, then, Doctor," she lifted her chin in challenge. "Show me this TARDIS of yours. Let's see how big it really is in here."
The Doctor sighed again, but held out his hand for her to take. She eyed him warily for a minute before placing her uninjured hand in his, only vaguely surprised when she could actually feel his hand against hers, warmth flowing from the touch and easing some of her chill. The sensations were certainly more realistic here than she'd ever felt in a dream. Just more evidence that wherever she was, it was real.
He gently helped her up, then started leading her towards the stairs, Rory following close behind with a worried expression on his face. Lyssa slowly followed him up the stairs, noting how realistic the shiny metal parts for the walls appeared, before reaching the top of the stairs and coming to a halt as she realized that she was staring at the console room of the TARDIS.
"No way," she breathed, turning around and taking it all in. It truly was massive, and absolutely breathtaking to see, no matter how questionable its origins were.
The Doctor smiled proudly. "Lyssa Devons, welcome to the TARDIS," he declared, throwing his arms out wide.
Slowly stepping to the console, Lyssa reached her uninjured hand curiously towards the rotor, only to jerk it back when both started to glow a faint gold.
Right. Going back to the dream theory then. She glanced down at her hand, relieved to find it back to normal.
She had to admit to being curious about what was outside the doors - would it be Earth? Some alien planet? The stage of wherever this had been set up? Maybe even a hospital room, and this was all one big metaphor for her waking up.
The Doctor was going on about something in the console room, so she quietly made her way over to the doors, hoping to be able to make it out of there before they could catch her. She was about a foot away when Rory realized what she was doing.
"Lyssa, no!" he called, running towards her with wide eyes and outstretched hand.
But he was too late.
Jumping towards the doors, Lyssa yanked one open and darted out, only to be jerked back a moment later - and just in time, seconds before she fell out into the same empty vastness of space that she had seen earlier.
Not freedom. Not a stage set. Not waking up. Just cold emptiness and the strangest feeling that she'd narrowly escaped with her life.
"What - what is that?" she stammered, staring out at a spiral galaxy in front of them. Goosebumps prickled her skin, adrenaline still surging from when the ground had disappeared beneath her feet. Tugging her fully back into the TARDIS, the Doctor pulled her into his arms and shut the door, with Lyssa too shocked to resist. Her hand brushed against his coat and she instinctively winced at the pain, although in truth she barely noticed it.
"You're in the TARDIS. 'Time And Relative Dimensions In Space'. What you just saw was space. We're floating in space right now," the Doctor told her gently.
"I'm not dreaming, am I?" she breathed, realization and something else - almost like grief - sinking heavily in her stomach.
His face grew sorrowful. "No," he told her quietly. "You're not. I'm sorry."
"Right," she said shakily as the edges of her vision started to go black. "I don't - I think I need to take a break right now." Still staring at the door and everything it represented, she let her eyes fall shut and went limp in the Doctor's arms.
xXx
Lyssa slowly swam back to reality. She carefully moved her hands across the sheets covering her body, and felt something heavy encasing her left hand. Struggling to open her eyes, she felt someone take her hand, a comforting warmth slowly spreading from the point of contact.
She managed to open her eyes at last, but had to immediately shut them after the lights overhead nearly blinded her. They were immediately dimmed, and she muttered her thanks out of habit. Blinking her eyes to clear them, she looked over and saw the Doctor, looking worried and pensive, holding her hand.
Her hand with a cast on it.
"Why is there a cast on my hand?" she asked groggily, furrowing her brow.
He glanced down at her hand in surprise as if only just realizing that he was holding it. "Ah. Right. Um, well, you had three broken bones in your hand. I don't know what you did to it, but it must have been heavy. I used a bone knitter on them, but it will still need to set for a few days before it can completely heal, and then we can take the cast off, but then -"
"Doctor," Lyssa interrupted him hesitantly. He shut up immediately. "Is, is this all real? Am I really in the TARDIS? I'm not just dreaming?"
Instead of responding, the Doctor reached over and pinched her arm. "Ow!" she cried, rubbing the sore spot and frowning at him. "What was that for?"
"Did that feel real?" he asked her simply.
"Yes!" She scowled at him, still rubbing her arm.
He smiled. "Then I'd say that that means that you're awake. Also, scans show that, your hand aside, you're as fit as a fiddle. So, I could give you a tour of the TARDIS, if you like?" he offered, excitement visible even though he was clearly trying to hide it.
Lyssa studied him for a minute, still not entirely sure this was real, but excited despite herself. "Sure. I think I'd like to see if the TARDIS really is bigger on the inside," she accepted his offer cautiously.
He grinned and offered her his hand. "Lyssa Mae Devons, you have no idea."
A/N: So this will be my first Doctor Who story ever, but I'm excited to see where it goes. Updates should come every Sunday, usually later in the day as I'm an awful procrastinator. :P
Feel free to offer constructive criticism, I know I'm not the best writer in the world. :/ Encouraging reviews are always welcome! :)
I'll be working with 9-12 for the most part, as well as a few 8th/War Doctor shots, but I will only be writing through the Season 9 Christmas Special. Any and everything written after that will all be written by me, and anything in BBC season 10 and after will not be included, nor considered canon in this story.
I picture Lyssa looking roughly like a younger, brunette Keri Russell. (Specifically younger as the actress now is several decades older than Lyssa)
Originally inspired by 'Jumping Through Time' by AnaDona
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! :)
General Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, but Lyssa is all mine.