Author's note: At the moment, there are 3 chapters in the 'Misadventures in Purgatory' arc. This first chapter is basically background for the next two, so bear with me. Classes for me start back on Thursday, so I have no idea how that'll affect my updates, but I'm determined to get the rest of this arc done as soon as I can.
CHAPTER WARNINGS: Depression. Language. Feelings of Abandonment. Slight sexual references.
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Chapter Twenty Eight: Misadventures in Purgatory
Part One
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Bags of bird seed, frozen corn, and chicken nuggets splatted unceremoniously on the counter. It was an odd assortment to come away with after a mission to the corner grocery store, but I couldn't be bothered to care.
The clerk gave me an odd look. I wasn't surprised. I hadn't bothered to brush my hair before leaving and I couldn't remember the last time I'd bathed. The last time I had looked in the mirror, which was God knows when, my cheeks had lost their color and healthy plumpness. The shadows under my eyes caused the face that made so many people across time and space smitten look waxy and drawn, like a skull. Physically, I was back to square one. All of the weight and muscle I'd put on and maintained over the last three years had fallen away, so every time I looked at my reflection it wasn't me, but Mirror Girl who stared back at me.
I'd learned to avoid mirrors.
I paid with the psychic credit card and gathered the two bags.
My original body had the tendency to stress eat; this one was the exact opposite. Even looking at food made my gut twist when I was stressed or upset. So needless to say, the stuff from the grocery store wasn't really for me. The birdseed and corn were exclusively for Geronimo. The chicken nuggets were sort of for me, but getting them had been a sorry attempt at optimism. There were other things in my freezer, and they'd barely been touched. When I did eat, which wasn't often, it was usually delivery.
Although town was the last place I wanted to be, I didn't hurry home. After three months holed away in my flat, the motion and noise was overwhelming, but I found it to be a welcome distraction.
It was better not to think.
I sidestepped a woman pushing a stroller with shopping bags tied to the handles. The little kid inside couldn't be more than three. They peered up at me with curious brown eyes, and extended their little hand out to wave.
Once upon a time, I probably would've waved back. But that had been when I had the energy and charisma to talk to the mother. Parents could be suspicious about strangers interacting with their children; especially when they looked as frail and sickly as I did.
I put my head down and kept walking.
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I'm not sure how long I sat there, but it was long enough for my legs to start hurting and for the asphalt to leave indentions on my knees through the leggings. Geronimo had been squeaking in my ear, not quite as agitated as me, but much more confused.
It took everything I had to force myself to stand, but I did. I wasn't certain about the date, but figured that the flat I'd lived in was still mine.
To tell the truth, I knew exactly when I was; but I wasn't ready to admit that to myself yet.
I climbed the stairs on autopilot, lost in a haze of shock and confusion. The door to the flat was locked. I had lost the key ages ago, but the lock was cheap and no match for a sonic pen.
Cold, stale air smacked against my face. The flat was exactly as I left it. Dark. Empty. I'd rented it fully furnished, but those amenities were the only sign that it was a place intended to be lived in. A couch. A television. A fridge. A stove. A bed.
This place had been my home for the better part of a year, but I was nowhere to be seen. It didn't have my books, my space-time souvenir collection, or my clothes.
I placed Geronimo down on the kitchen counter. He stood on his back legs, making himself as tall as possible as he surveyed his new surroundings. It wasn't exactly a TARDIS with endless hidey-holes and places to explore, but it was all I had to offer him.
I sank down into a chair at the kitchen table; it was the one with the wobbly leg. I'd forgotten about it. Memories of living here flooded me - the ones I'd suppressed for the sake of moving on. The wobbly chair leg. The light in the bathroom that flickered no matter how many times you changed the bulb. The weird musty smell when you turned on the heat.
I hated this flat.
My throat was tight. Needing something to do, I fell back on the procedure for when an adventure went wrong.
I couldn't call this an adventure, but it had gone very, very wrong indeed.
Step One: identify potential dangers.
I became unreasonably angry at how inapplicable that step was, but was able to move on.
Step Two: check resources.
Did I even have any clothes? I knew I could buy more, but the thought of shopping sounded bleak. My hands went to the bag still strapped to my thigh. I knew I kept an extra set of clothes and shoes stashed away. Maybe if I was lucky, I could make it a few days without having to...
That bastard.
That motherfucking bastard.
The bag was much fuller than I'd left it. Within minutes, the kitchen table was covered with my TARDIS possessions. Clothes. Shoes. Laptop. Earth money. Even food.
The Doctor had packed for me.
Hot tears of rage streamed down my cheeks. I'd never felt so stupid. So betrayed. 'Sonic update'. It had been so fucking obvious. Was I really that naive? Did I really think I was above TARDIS Rule One?
The Doctor lies.
He'd packed for me. He'd abandoned me on the same night we met. He'd taken Rose instead.
'Already got a human', my ass. And I had believed that shit.
I slid off the chair and into the floor. This time, I didn't try to hold back any tears. Curled up under the table, I sobbed as hard as I had the day I realized I would never see my family again. It had been the worst day of my life.
In many ways, this hurt even more.
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The only thing that had saved me from being even worse off was Geronimo. I could overlook my needs, but I couldn't ignore his. He was the only friend I had, and I wasn't about to let him go hungry because my mind was in the gutter. I would've done anything for that tiny-ass mouse. He was the only one that could encourage me to get out of bed and into society, so long as it kept him safe and fed.
He was entirely aware of this, and was more than happy to play his role in the dynamic that formed over the past three months: I cared for him, protected him, saw to his needs; In return he kept me company and would shriek at me until I would (insert: bathe, eat, drink, get out of bed, etc). And believe me, he could be extremely insistent/annoying.
Like a lot of my time before I met the Doctor, I spent it alone. I didn't really talk to anyone unless I had to, and not because I was afraid or shy or whatever, but because I just didn't have the energy. It was like I'd had the wind knocked out of me - and no matter how long I spent with my head between my knees, I just couldn't catch my breath.
And I did try. I really did. I went to the mall, to bars, to parks, to movie theaters; but no matter what, I always found myself shutting back down, unable to break through the haze.
I was depressed, and I knew it. I needed help, but didn't know where to look. I couldn't go to a therapist or psychiatrist, because then they'd try to get to the bottom of why, which would land me in a lot more trouble than I was already in.
So I dealt with it. I slept. I pretended to eat. I slept. I tried to watch TV. I slept. Over and over again. Treading water; just hoping that I'd find my own way out eventually. The only company I kept was Geronimo and the handful of people I could slap on a smile for and say hello to in passing.
Then there was Mickey.
He flagged me down two days after I'd been left behind - the first time I tried to get my shit together and save myself from falling into a pit of despair. I don't know why I had been so surprised. He'd seen me with the Doctor during the Nestene Invasion. He knew I knew the Doctor.
Unfortunately for us both, being so blatantly reminded that the Doctor had left me and taken Rose had sliced through all the emotional barriers I'd built for myself like a hot knife through butter. I broke down mid-sentence, prompting Mickey to first try and help, but then realize that I needed to be left alone.
He was kind enough to leave me be for a few days, but it was clear that I'd be seeing a lot more of Mickey than I wanted. He was aware that I knew all sorts of things about the stuff he didn't. I became Mickey's source of information for all things alien, time travel, and most importantly: Rose.
"How long is she gonna be away?"
"Where will they go?"
"Other planets? How is that possible?"
"What if she gets hurt?"
"What if the Doctor leaves her behind?"
He asked me so many questions in the first week that I had been ready to tear his face off with my bare hands. Not to say I didn't appreciate Mickey. He was friendly, and in any other situation I would've been more than happy to oblige him, but I was confused, angry, and heartbroken - so when I finally snapped and told him to get the fuck out of my apartment, I thought I was being nice.
Since then, he'd been a little more considerate. Generally, he kept out of my way, limiting encounters to once or twice a week. Despite his flaws, he seemed to understand that I was going through something and was kind enough to help any way he could, going so far as bringing me dinner every once in a while.
But beyond that, I hardly ever interacted with anyone. Needless to say, I was surprised when my phone rang. No one ever called me.
"Buffy?" The voice on the other end asked. "Oh, thank God you picked up."
"Mickey?" I answered, surprised. "When did you get my number?"
"Nevermind that," he said quickly. I was forced to assume that he'd gone through my phone for it the last time he stopped by. I bit back a scathing comment. He sounded upset, so I was willing to let it slide for now. "I'm in trouble, Buff. They came by while I was at work an'-"
"Alright, slow down." I massaged the bridge of my nose. "Where are you?"
"Police station," he babbled. "They're holding me here. They say they have evidence, but how can they have evidence? I'm already in trouble at the shop as it is, an' if I'm not back tomorrow mornin' they're gonna fire me, Buffy. What am I supposed to tell them? I can't exactly say-"
"Mickey," I said firmly. "Breathe." I heard him swallow hard on the other end and try to do as I said. After a moment, I continued.
"They don't have evidence of anything," I explained calmly. "They're holding you, not arresting you. It's a scare tactic. Just keep cool. You haven't done anything wrong."
"Right, yeah. I knew that," he said unconvincingly. "But what do I do? I can't afford to lose my job."
I heaved a sigh, sure I was going to regret my next words. "Sit tight. I'm on my way. I'll get everything cleared up."
"What're you gonna tell them?"
"Shut up," I warned. "I'll be there soon."
I hung up and threw myself back on the couch. Despite my promise of haste, I spent the next half hour blankly staring at the television and trying to straighten out my headspace.
I already knew which lie I would have to tell, and from there all the little details weren't hard to fabricate. It should be easy enough - but unfortunately, the best lie was the most personally inconvenient. And the most emotionally taxing.
I felt the looseness of my clothes, a constant reminder of how empty I was, inside and out. My time with the Doctor had turned me into an excellent liar and convincing actress, but now, sitting here with a new challenge laid at my feet, I wasn't sure I was up to it.
But if I were to be honest with myself, it would probably be good for me.
Slowly, painstakingly, I pushed myself to my feet and gathered my things, hoping to all the gods in the universe that I wouldn't regret it.
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A half-hour later saw me sitting at a table in an interrogation room. It was small, basic, and in desperate need of a mop and some bleach.
Thankfully, I was able to slip into character without much of a hitch; though it helped that the person I was playing was a simple alteration of myself.
"He was with me," I lied fluidly. It wasn't difficult, really. I'd told much bigger lies to much smarter people, but as I sat in a rickety metal chair across from two mid-rate policemen, I couldn't help but wish that I'd just stayed in bed.
The pale fluorescent lights were giving me a headache and the room was chillier than I would like. I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back in the chair, which creaked in protest.
The first officer (You couldn't pay me to remember their names) wrote something down on his notepad.
"And what were you doing on the night Miss Tyler disappeared?"
I turned an unimpressed eye on the second officer, the one who had spoken. Yes, this was the best lie; the only one I could think of that filled in all of the gaps in Mickey's alibi. Personally, it was kind of insulting. But then again, who ever cared about what I wanted?
"I'll give you three guesses," I said scathingly.
He shifted uncomfortably. "For the record please, miss."
I intoned a sigh, only half faking the irritation in it. "I spent most of the afternoon in town, and then ran into Rose and Mickey at the pizza place. Rose said something about meeting up with a friend, and I'd already had a bit to drink, and Mickey offered to drive me home. We made it to my place sometime around 8:00 or 9:00. He left the next morning."
It was a solid lie. Easy to believe, especially if you wanted to; the police definitely wanted to. The case had been cold for a while, and any excuse to cross out a suspect was readily accepted.
The officers nodded along.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Reid," the first said. "Now, if you don't mind, we've got a few more questions."
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The rest of the interrogation passed smoothly. The only rogue element was Mickey, but thankfully I was convincing enough for them to have lost interest in him. It only took a little verbal wheeling on my part to ensure that he was released immediately without being questioned again - saving me the trouble of compensating for his clueless blunders. Small mercies.
I waited for him in the front lobby. The little bit of energy I'd been able to dredge up for the interrogation had dissipated, leaving me feeling like a dried out husk. I couldn't wait to get back to my flat, turn on the tv, and go back to pretending that I didn't exist.
Finally, Mickey was led out into the lobby. He blinked at me, seemingly surprised to see me waiting for him, before scurrying across the worn tile to join me by the door.
"Man, am I glad to see you," he admitted, following me out into the cool night air. I breathed deep, drinking in the smell of car exhaust and damp and letting it lull my senses back into a haze. "What did you tell them?"
"I gave you an alibi," I said simply.
"Oh, that's great!" He shrugged on his jacket. "I didn't know what to tell 'em. I took Rose to visit that bloke about the Doctor, and then I got eaten by a trash bin. Couldn't say I left her then, though, cos they got witnesses saying we were together at the pizza place. They'd never believe that, though." He dug a beanie out of his jacket and shoved it on his head. "What'd you tell 'em?"
"That we were having sex."
Mickey tripped over his own feet.
"What?" He sputtered. "Why - ? How does that help?"
"Think about it," I explained dryly. "To them, you hadn't been telling the truth. So I had to come up with a reason why you'd be willing to lie about where you were. You feeling guilty about a drunken one night stand while your girlfriend went missing covers that pretty nicely. They bought it."
"Yeah, but…" he stammered, "but we didn't."
"Really?" I growled sarcastically. "I thought we did, must've got my wires crossed." I scowled and shoved my hands in my pockets moodily. "You're welcome, by the way."
"I am grateful," he said quickly. "I really am. But what about Rose? I don't want her thinking I was sleepin' around while she was away. I don't want my mates thinking that either."
"Tell them whatever you need to tell them. You were drunk. I initiated. Whatever." I rubbed my eyes tiredly before looking up to fix him with a warning look. "But don't ever mention this to me again. And when Rose comes back, you're gonna set the record straight. With her. With Jackie. With the Doctor. Whatever. I won't have this following me around. If it does, I'll start telling everyone how god awful you were and start coming up with all kinds of embarrassing sex-shit. Got it?"
A slightly panicked look settled across his face. "Yeah. Yeah, I got it. No problem there."
"Good."
We walked in silence for a while. The air smelled of rain, but I wasn't sure if it was just from the puddles left over from yesterday's shower or not. We were almost to the Powell Estate when Mickey piped up again.
"Aren't you worried?"
"About what?"
"Gettin' in trouble." He glanced from side to side, looking for the eavesdropping cops that were definitely not there. "You just straight up lied to them. You can get arrested for that sort of thing."
I shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time."
"Oh, so is that what you do with the Doctor, huh?" He tripped over a lip in the sidewalk, but managed not to fall. "Dashing about across the stars, lyin' to police and saying you slept with a murder suspect?" He realized too late that he'd brought the freshly-tabooed subject up again. His ears burned bright red.
I decided to be merciful and ignored the blunder. "Not always."
"About which one?"
"Last time I pretended to be an FBI agent."
He blinked rapidly. "And how did that end?"
I turned away and strolled towards my building, tossing the answer over my shoulder, "My girlfriend got shot."
Mickey's reply got lost in the echo of my footsteps as I entered the stairwell, but it didn't take much creativity to imagine what it had been.
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Two weeks after I sacrificed my pride to help Mickey and nearly four months after Rose and I switched places, I was still struggling. Overall, I suppose you could say I was doing better; I was eating more and could go out in public and pretend to be a functioning member of society, even if it was extremely fake and I could keep it up for an hour at a time.
For every step forward there was another step back. Some days I actually felt kind of okay, other days I couldn't find it in me to get out of bed, let alone bathe or get something to eat.
Today was one of the latter.
It was sometime around late afternoon. I hadn't checked my phone in a while, but the angle of sunlight streaming through the bedroom window put it around 4:00 or 5:00. Geronimo had been squeaking at me on and off all day, going as far as to mountaineering up the side of the bed to bother me to my face.
He wasn't usually allowed on my bed, not because I was squeamish or worried about his mouse-germs, but because I was terrified of rolling over and squishing him. But since I was mostly awake, he was resigned to curling up on the other pillow to keep me company.
Despite my mental state, all was peaceful. Both my mouse friend and I had nearly drifted off before the calm atmosphere was shattered by a shrill voice.
"You in? Oh, bloody hell, when's the last time you aired this place out?"
Now, I wasn't hyper-vigilant about locking the door; I didn't have anything worth stealing and was far too used to monsters and aliens to harbor any real fear of burglars. But in this case, I was almost positive that I'd remembered to turn the lock on my way in.
I sat bolt upright, throwing off the covers and scooping Geronimo up to cradle him to my chest. He twittered nervously as I stalked out into the main room, unsure what to expect.
Jackie was pretty much the last person I expected to see standing in my living room, especially knowing that she must've picked the lock. With her hair pulled back by a pink scrunchie and her arms laden with plastic to-go bags, she looked as if she had every right to be here.
"There you are, sweetheart," she greeted when I plodded out of my room. "Have you been out of bed at all today? That's not healthy. You're gonna get bed sores."
All I could do was stare at her blearily while she started unpacking the white styrofoam boxes, talking all the way. My mind was sluggish from lack of use, but slowly rebooting as it chewed on the puzzle of why the hell she was in my apartment.
Jackie, seemingly unaware of my befuddlement, chatted absently about a guy she was seeing while rummaging the cabinets and drawers for plates and silverware.
"Jackie… what…?" I said when I finally found my voice. "What are you doing here?"
"Japanese," she said as if it explained everything. "Mickey said it's your favorite."
"You've been talking to Mickey?" That was news to me. "Since when? I thought you — "
She cut me off with an absentminded wave of her hand. "Yeah, but I didn't know everythin' then. What was I supposed to think? But that's all cleared up now, so no point in beating a dead horse."
I frowned. The police must've told her about the alibi I'd given Mickey. But that didn't explain what she wanted with me, especially since she thought I slept with her daughter's boyfriend.
"Yeah, okay. But what are you doing here?"
She set a plate down for me. "Thought we could have dinner. I haven't had Japanese in ages."
"Yeah, but…" I fumbled, shadowing her as she went to turn on the TV, presumably for background noise. "Why with me? I thought that... with… you know, Mickey... that you wouldn't want anything to do with me."
She settled on a news station and returned to the table. I sat Geronimo down on the ground and made sure it made it safely to his favorite hiding place behind the couch.
Jackie sat down at the table. "Well, I wasn't happy about it at first. But we all make mistakes, you know. And you're hardly the first person to get drunk and sleep with someone else's boyfriend." She laughed a little. "Now, I've done that."
"I… er… okay."
She looked up to where I still stood awkwardly. A shadow of doubt flickered across her face. "If you want me to go, that's alright. I just thought that… well, seein' you've not got any family, and well… with Rose…"
She trailed off. I nodded, finally understanding. The story I'd told everyone was that my parents had died in a car accident when I was eighteen. They'd left me enough money to get by, but I didn't have any other family to speak of. Now that Rose was missing, she was alone too.
I'd lost my mother, she'd lost her daughter. We both had a vacancy that we longed to have filled.
I sat down and started picking at my food. Jackie, subtly relieved, did the same. My heart contorted painfully as I listened to her talk about trivial things, reminding me how much I missed my own mother. Being her only daughter, I had been her confidant. Back then, it had gotten a little irritating, but now I would give almost anything to speak to her again.
Maybe if Jackie and I stuck together, the rest of this awful year would be that much easier.
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It did get a little better for me after that. Where Mickey and Geronimo couldn't get me to do things, Jackie usually could. That's not to say that all my problems ended and I was suddenly well again, because I most certainly wasn't. But there's something about being fussed at by a mother that makes you want to try a little harder, especially when you know that she needs you as much as you need her.
I had to take care of Geronimo. I had to take care of Jackie.
To do both, I had to take care of myself.
Over the next month, I was able to regain a few pounds, mostly because Jackie would pitch a fit if I didn't at least try to eat. She also dragged me out of the flat to go shopping, get our hair done, etc.
Despite her determination to drag me out of my slump, she respected the fact that I wouldn't always be able to dredge up the strength to pretend. Hell, she had those days too. When one or both of us had an 'off-day', we would usually spend it in front of the TV; so at least we weren't wallowing alone.
She even started to warm up to Geronimo, whom she initially loathed, claiming that mice had 'no business being welcome in a house'. Obviously, Geronimo's presence was non-negotiable. He was my pet. He was staying. Period.
Mickey started coming by more often, too, though usually not when Jackie was around. When they did cross paths, Jackie was cordial, if not a little snippy. While she didn't think he was responsible for Rose's disappearance, he had cheated on her daughter. Mickey hated the cover story, but was wise enough to keep his mouth shut, as the alternative was much worse.
A new normal developed, and somewhere in the midst of it all, there was a knock at my door.
Jackie and Mickey didn't bother to knock anymore, so I was a little cautious. I opened the door to see a man with a narrow face and sandy brown in a dark military suit and red beret.
He didn't seem particularly threatening, but I squared my shoulders and let my expression default to neutral, unsure of how I would have to play my cards. "Hello?"
"Miss Buffy Reid?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm Private Anderson. I represent the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce." He slipped his hand into the inside breast pocket of his uniform, producing a thick, lumpy envelope. It was TARDIS blue. "I'm here to deliver a message as well as confirm your identity for UNIT records."
I frowned skeptically, thinking. "Why do you need to confirm my identity in person? Can't UNIT just look me up or whatever?"
"I believe the letter will clarify, ma'am. But I can't release it to you without confirmation"
Still wary, I folded my arms across my chest. "Alright. How do I do that?"
"I've been given a question to ask you. One that only you and the person who gave me it would understand."
"But they're letting someone else ask me the question," I pointed out. "So now you know both the question and the answer."
"I know the answer, but I'm afraid that I don't have the context."
"Mm. What is it?"
"Who was the fifth?"
I blinked at him blankly for a second, trying to figure out what the hell that meant. A question that only I could answer?
Oh.
"Peter Davison!" I blurted eagerly. Of course that would be the right question to ask. Doctor Who didn't exist here, so I was the only one who could ever have that information.
Genius, really.
"Correct, ma'am." Private Yates smiled and held out the envelope. "I believe this is yours."
I readily took it and weighed it in my hands. It was fairly light, effectively a regular envelope with something almost too big for it stuffed inside.
Private Anderson saluted and said goodbye. I closed the door, no longer interested in him. The letter was burning between my hands, which were shaking - with excitement or anxiety, I couldn't tell you. My thoughts were running wild, spinning theory after theory as to who it might be from.
The Doctor had sent out envelopes like this when he thought he was dying in The Impossible Astronaut, but I couldn't imagine him sending one to me - and even if he would, it didn't make sense to send it now.
The other Doctor - my Doctor, Nine - might've sent something, but sending it though UNIT didn't add up.
Jack wouldn't send a letter. He would just show up.
There were others, but I hadn't met any of them yet, if I would at all. So who?
Only one way to find out.
I peeled the envelope open carefully and pulled out its contents one by one: a debit card, a business card, a letter, and an object wrapped in a midnight-blue silk cloth.
I unwrapped the object first. It was made of black leather and about the size of a wallet, double sided with a control panel and buttons; made to be worn on the wrist.
It was a day of surprises, and I'd been conditioning myself over the last five months to not expect the extraordinary as I had while I was with the Doctor, and despite having my laptop, I hadn't watched Doctor Who in over a year - as it either stressed me out to know what was coming or was a painful reminder of being ejected from the lifestyle.
Needless to say, it took me longer than it should to recognize a vortex manipulator when I saw one.
I really needed to brush up on Doctor Who trivia.
I put it aside with shaking hands and opened the letter. It was handwritten in red ink.
It read:
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Dear Myself,
Out of all the people to get a letter from, I can't believe you didn't think of me.
Is it really that surprising?
It's been a long time, but I remember when I was you. It sucked. Like, a lot. Unfortunately, it's going to get worse before it gets better. And then it'll get worse again. But eventually - in the end - you'll be okay.
So until then: Suck it up. Eat a fucking sandwich. Give Geronimo a kiss for me.
I know you have a lot of questions, and like the bitch we are, I'm not really going to answer them. All I'm going to tell you about this me is that
1.) I'm older than you (obviously).
2.) I no longer go by Buffy Reid (because reasons - but the point is that the name's all yours) .
3.) I carry a lot of weight at UNIT.
No, you are not allowed to ask them any questions about me. They won't tell you anyway. (Remember: until you're me, I outrank you.)
By now you've realized that this letter comes with a vortex manipulator, which is why I had someone from UNIT deliver it personally instead of just sending it through the mail.
Yes, it's yours. It'll be awhile before you really need to be comfortable with using it, but it's good to have it with you in case of emergencies (hint hint), so just stick in your bag until it's necessary. The coordinate system it uses is very similar to the TARDIS (but a little simpler), so you shouldn't have too much trouble with it.
Spoilers aside, you ARE going to need it pretty soon. The coordinates you're going to need are 17:18 72/15/63.
You'll know when to use them.
I've also enclosed an actual debit card for you to use (I know how you hate using the psychic credit card). We have several accounts at different banks. The account that this card is to is where your UNIT paycheck will be sent. I took the liberty of depositing a decent sum into it, so you don't have to wait for your first paycheck to start using it.
Paycheck, you ask? Yeah. You're UNIT's newest Strategic Advisor. Relatively low level, of course, for the moment. I can get you in the front door, but technically we are two separate people right now, so you're going to have to climb the ladder yourself.
Captain Hugh Abbott is going to be your UNIT liaison. I've known him for quite a while. He's trustworthy and not all that annoying. You'll get along fine. His contact info is also enclosed, and he's expecting to hear from you shortly.
Don't stress over it too much. It'll be fun. And anyway, it's not like you're doing anything else right now.
Love,
You
P.S. Check your email.
~0~0~0~
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I reread the letter three times, struggling to process it all. My future self? UNIT Strategic Advisor? A vortex manipulator?
Like I said earlier, I'd been trying to get used to a normal life. I was doing better. And yet…
A single letter, and I felt more alive than I had in months.
My mind was actually working again: spinning out possible scenarios where I'd need a vortex manipulator, the things I could do at UNIT, why the hell the future me was living in the same time period as my past self…
Seriously, why 2005?
For the first time in ages, I was excited about the future. I tipped my head back and laughed, because I had a future.
Riding on the high of a potential adventure, I did as my future self instructed and checked my email.
I hadn't checked it since I originally left with the Doctor, nor had I a reason to. There weren't many people who would want to get in touch with me, and those who did certainly wouldn't do so through email.
There were nine unread messages. Two were spam. Seven were from Clive.
~0~0~0~
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Responses to Comments:
TheGuestAlikai: Lol the elongated 'noo' was exactly the response I was hoping for; it pleases me to no end. And thanks again for taking the time to message me about that, I still appreciate it. Hope you enjoy this arc as much as the others!
C. S. Stars: *Laughs evilly*
Pfannkuchen07: Yeah I may have cried when I was writing that scene. Sad and fluff is my jam. there will be more to come.
ronnieangell: I'll pass along your hugs. Don't worry, things will get better for her eventually :)
savethemadscientist: They'll find their way back together soon. And no, the Doctor isnt going to be let off lightly. Plenty more angst/hurt/comfort to come.
Savage Kill: Yeah, plenty trust/abandonment issues are on the way. There is definitely going to be a rift between them for a while. Hope you enjoy where it goes :)
Spoonsinthesink: I'm glad you think that was in character for him. I spent way too long rewriting their interactions in that chapter to make what he did seem realistic for him and set up the ending without spoiling it. I'm happy it worked out like I meant it to. I was also sure to add in all that banter so there was something other than angst. And I get what you're saying about how companions tend to stick right beside the Doc. I decided early on that I wanted Buffy's story to not be 100% dependent on the Doc, so I knew I needed her to start functioning on her own early on. Oddly enough, all this trauma will be good for her in the long run. 'What doesnt kill you makes you stronger' and all that.
Sophiewhettingsteel: I'm glad you trust me with it :D thank you and I'm supper exited about all of this too. Cant wait to share it with you!
CJ/Oddball guest: Yah same ;)
Saiyanprincess1511: Keeping her safe is the key line in that chapter. Bc he really IS trying to do whats best even though that was like the worst thing he could do. While you're not right about the future doc coming to apologize (spoilers) you're not wrong either. Ch 30 is gonna be lit fyi. Looking forward to what you think about the next couple chapters ;)
lucefatale: Yeah he is an idiot. But thats why we love him
riotgirl777: Yeah this is a real low blow for Buffy, but she's a lot stronger than she thinks. And really the Doctor was trying to do what's best, and he has some reasons that will be revealed later on. Unfortunately he didn't really account for the fact that she has severe abandonment issues. But they'll figure it out eventually, bc here IS a lot of love there
bored411: Shes not going to let him off the hook easy, thats for sure. But really, neither of them should be dealing with their nightmares alone - and thats why they go good together. Hope you enjoy where this goes!
CrystalAris: Yeah, he'll be back for Aliens of London. I can't tell you too much about Mirror Girl without spoiling too much, but I will say that you're not too far off the mark. I also love Geronimo. I got the idea/name from my grandma, bc she used to have a small toy mouse called Geronimo that stayed in a little pumpkin basket, and had him for like 40 years. Then she randomly decided to throw him away and didn't tell us. My mom and I got pretty upset over it. and thus fanfic Geronimo was born. You're also on the right track with how Buffy will react, not exactly, but close. I think it'll fit both their characters. I already have a plan for Adam, Father's Day and the reapers, which should be interesting.
Sam2357: Yes, yes, and yes.
kcheslock: Thank you!
Shelbell25: Hopefully I'll be able to stick with it enough that you wont have to sit on the cliffhangers for too long. and thanks, cos I've been out of class for quarantine for like six months and my sleeping schedule is really messed up, so i need all the luck I can get.
Eviline: I read your comments as you've been reading the story and Im really happy you've been enjoying it! Hope you stick with me!
Guest: I really appreciate that you're invested enough in my story to get passionate about Doctor Who and come up with headcannons for Buffy and the Doc, and that you took the time to leave such a long review. I agree with your sentiment on infidelity that turns up in a lot of fanfiction, and that love without respect isn't love at all. Buffy's relationship with the Doctor will be healthy, so don't worry about that. But I would like to say that I don't hate Rose, I'm just indifferent to her, and I plan to treat her like a complex individual and with the respect I give the other characters that I'm borrowing from the show. I also want to make it clear that I intend for Buffy's relationship with the Doctor to extend past Eleven, onto 13 and beyond. I have an elaborate story in mind, so don't be too surprised when what you've imagined for the story doesn't happen, a lot is going to happen between now and then. So if you're set on most of that happening, I suggest writing your own story (you certainly have enough ideas for one). Anyway, thanks for reading!
deathb4beauty: Thank you! I was extremely emotional while writing this chapter. so its nice to hear it paid off :)