Here's the next one. I will warn you ahead of time, the Doctor x Rose is not happening in this at all and this story does have the potential to lean more towards... well Doctor x male oc. If you don't like it, don't read it, though there are only 2 chapters right now, don't know when/if it'll be updated but feelings are hinted at. Curious what you all think though!

A reminder that these stories I'm posting are stuff I've had lying around collecting dust in my computer. Some are from ages ago, some are more recent. Still, hope you enjoy them nonetheless.


I took a deep breath and slowly let it out, trying to calm my racing heart despite the rush of adrenaline pumping through my system. Relax. Stressing over this now will do nothing but make mistakes easier.

"You ready, Thompson?"

I opened my eyes to the man across from me—my partner, for the time being, Rick Choplin. Tightening my grip on my sidearm, I nodded, giving him the go-ahead to gesture to the SWAT team on our backs. A man with a battering ram moved to the front and aimed it at the door to the apartment in front of us. There was a silent countdown before he swung the battering ram and slammed it into the door—knocking it off its hinges.

We rushed in, shouting with weapons held aloft in search of the subject we had finally gotten a tip on. There were a few startled men and women who were quickly apprehended, but they were not our main goal. Rick and I moved to the final bedroom to check and, with quick affirmation that we were ready, Rick kicked down the door.

"Police! Hands in the—"

My shout was cut short as a shot was fired.

"Thompson!"

Pain sliced through my right cheek as a whizzing bullet lodged itself into the wall behind me. My face felt numb as I aimed my weapon at the man who had fired. More gunshots rang out, hitting their marks. The criminal toppled over and fell; dead. Rick soon followed as I collapsed by his side. No… No, I can't lose another partner. My hands pressed to the bleeding wound on his side, but my own vision was fading. I hadn't noticed the wounds I had sustained.

The others from the SWAT team rushed in, shouting for an ambulance as I was laid beside Rick. I couldn't hear anything being asked of me, just the crackling of white noise in my ears. I expected things to go dark as I entered unconsciousness, but instead, it had gotten brighter. Blindingly bright I could move again, without pain. I sat up, stood, and looked down at my bloody uniform—except it was gone.

I was left in my white shirt and dark pants, both clean of blood. I was confused, making to ask someone from the team what was going on, but saw no one. I was alone, aside from a mirror hovering a few paces away. Hesitating, I slowly walked over and stared back into my own eyes.

My right cheek was torn, ripped apart by that first shot fired. Muscle, bone, and teeth were visible, turning my face into some sort of macabre mask for Halloween or a horror movie. I felt sick. This was my face. My face. As I struggled to try and understand what happened though, my face began to slowly stitch itself back together.

I stared in shock as, in only a few minutes, my cheek had repaired itself—leaving a scar that twisted the corner of my lip unnaturally. Upon checking the rest of my injuries, I found them healed in much the same way. Before I could comprehend what this meant, what was happening to me, a sharp pain went through my head—sending me to my knees.

It was agonizing, and I could hear screaming somewhere in the distance; as though someone was responding to the pain I was in. My hearing cleared up then, and I realized that I had been the one screaming. As abruptly as the pain had come, it soon vanished—leaving me to deal with the cacophony of noise that now assaulted my senses.

The white expanse with the mirror was gone and in its place was a dark, dingy alleyway in a city unknown to me. What had caught my eye, however, was the light catching on my sidearm on the ground in front of me. I picked it up immediately, feeling a sense of security at having my weapon back in my hands. I tucked it in the back of my waistband and stepped out onto the sidewalk at the end of the alley, searching for something familiar. What I got was the exact opposite.

Black cabs raced alongside large, red, double-decker buses and an icy breeze easily cut through my thin clothing. England. I was in England when I had been in Los Angeles, California. It was day, while it had been heading into evening hours when my team made it to the apartment we were breaching. Everything was wrong. Had I been unconscious? How did I get here then? Did I blackout? Nothing made sense, so I walked to the nearest police department to try and get some answers.

They tried to contact my team, but it was as if I never existed. They gave me a coat and recommended a trip to the hospital; as though I was simply a poor, confused and mentally-addled tourist. I took the coat and refused the advice, choosing instead to try and find my own way.

I became homeless. Without identification and with the scar on my face, job searching was a pointless venture. Not that I didn't try, but I was largely unsuccessful. I dumpster-dived and made what friends I could among the other homeless; gaining a few possessions that would help me survive through the chilly weather. A sleeping bag, a hoodie, a thicker coat, and spare change. I made my way in the world as best I could, but then came the strange occurrences.

The Thames was drained one evening, then someone destroyed the government building on Downing Street as a spaceship crashed into Big Ben. Aliens. I didn't know what to think. I never had to think about it until now, but it felt off. As it was, I discovered that I had somehow gone back in time. It was the early 2000s when I had been living closer to 2070. So, alien spaceships rang a bell, telling me that I wasn't exactly in my world anymore.

Time and space travel philosophy had always been an interest of mine, but I wasn't clever enough to pursue a career in theory-making. Nor did I want to, when I could use my skills in problem-solving and deduction to catch criminals as a police detective. That didn't mean I wasn't intrigued, especially during my current predicament. The strange occurrences continued too, so how could I resist?

I had snuck closer to where the military had sectioned the spacecraft off, keeping to alleyways and shadows to remain out of sight. It was there, that I stumbled upon a curious sight blocking my way. A blue box. The police call box felt vaguely familiar and left just enough room on either side for me to slide past for a better look ahead. From there, I had poked my head out and quickly ducked back as a soldier moved a bit close, only to nearly jump out of my skin at the voice behind me.

"Careful." The man smiled as I whipped around to him. "Cutting it a bit close there, aren't you?"

I was bothered by his presence. There had been no hint of anyone following me, so where had he come from? The box? I pushed the thought aside as easily as it had come, turning my focus to whether he was a potential threat or not. The ridiculous grin stretched between his larger-than-average ears claimed "friend" but something about him unnerved me. There was experience behind his gaze that put me on edge as though I was facing a superior at work.

I chose then, that my curiosity was not worth whatever could happen with a second person on my heels. So, I turned to squeeze past the box and headed back the way I came, ignoring the man's confused expression and muttered question as I fled the scene.

"Was it something I said?"

That man and box haunted me afterward. I had remembered why the police box was familiar but didn't appreciate the memories of an ex-girlfriend who had brought a science fiction television series to my attention. It had been brief—a few episodes here and there when I had gotten off a shift—but the blue box had stuck out in my mind along with another man.

The younger man from the show reminded me eerily of the man I had bumped into in the alleyway, which probably explained why they both rattled my mind at night—alongside images of raging fires and gunshots. As Christmas moved closer, however, my uneasy life on the streets of London grew far worse. Finding myself on a rooftop was the final tipping point.

I had been terrified. Not by the height, but feeling my body move on its own without my control. Watching as I scaled a building and stood on the precipice, looking down at the concrete below as more controlled people joined me. Then, the hold was released, and I was able to shakily step away from the edge.

I was different, I realized. The others hadn't been released. Yet, I had been conscious, trapped in my body as the unthinkable occurred, and then let go. Next thing I know, another spaceship had appeared. One I wanted nothing to do with. As it was, my stomach was churning after being on the roof. I had been sick before going up there, but now I needed to search for the nearest alleyway to lose what little food was in my stomach.

I never made it that far; fever causing me to topple over up against a blue wall. Said wall gave out from under me, sending me sprawling onto a metal grating. It hadn't been a wall, but a door; not that it mattered to my fever-addled mind. I pushed myself up onto my forearms as voices approached and someone grabbed me under the arms to get me onto my feet.

"You… 'kay? Oi…"

I was placed lying down on a seat, seeing blurred figures hovering over me before my vision faded and I fell asleep to the worried hums echoing through my mind. Little did I know, this was the moment that everything changed.


"Who is he?"

"Like I know."

Mickey tossed his arm at the unconscious man lying on the jump seat. "He fell into the Tardis! The door was shut! Someone's got to know him. The ship didn't just let some stranger in for the hell of it. Is he a friend of the Doctor's?"

Rose bit her lip. "I-I don't know. He never mentioned anything. He's homeless, isn't he?"

"Do we throw him out?"

Rose shook her head. "He's sick, right? We can't just leave him."

"But this is the Tardis."

Rose groaned loudly. "Ugh, I don't know, okay? I just don't think the Doctor would want us to leave him out there."

"All right, but the bigger question is, what now?"

Rose sighed, exasperated. "I don't know." She looked around then, noticing that her mother was still gone. "Where's my mum? I'd better give her a hand. It might start raining missiles out there."

"Tell her anything from a tin, that's fine," Mickey tacked on as Rose headed to the door.

"Why don't you tell her yourself?"

"I'm not that brave," he admitted, nodding to the other occupant in the room. "Maybe grab something for him too? He doesn't look too good."

"Sure," Rose replied, stepping out only to scream as something grabbed her.

"Rose!" Micky shouted, rushing out after her without noticing the thermos of tea he'd knocked over near the unconscious Doctor on the ground.

The tea dripped steadily onto heated parts of the Tardis, turning into vapor and quickly being inhaled by the Doctor in his sleep. Gold wisps flowed out on his exhale and after another breath, brown eyes snapped open and he got to his feet. Curiously, he picked up the thermos, cracking a grin as he got a whiff of what was inside. A chirp from the Tardis though, drew his attention to the figure on the jump seat—making him wander over in curiosity.

He recognized the man, despite the added layer of dirt and beard. It was the homeless man he'd caught trying to sneak a glimpse of the spaceship that had crashed into Big Ben. He turned his gaze to the ceiling, doubt lingering in his mind.

"Did you let him in?"

The Tardis hummed proudly, making the Doctor raise a brow and look back at the man with newfound interest. It wasn't every day that his ship liked a stranger. Taking a chance, the Doctor reached down and picked up the man to take him to the med bay. As it was, the Doctor frowned at how light he was and the gauntness of the man's features. He had expected him to be more filled-out, more musculature. How long has he been on the streets then? Why not try to make a living for himself? It would be hard, but I'm sure… The Doctor cut his thoughts short.

He knew nothing about the man he was now assisting, but something tugged in the back of his mind about him. He wasn't just a normal human. There was no evidence, no basis for this thought, but he would have to look into it later. Once he had the man situated on the bed, he removed some of the extra coats and prepared medication to help lower the man's fever. It was then, that he noticed the gun.

His eyes darkened as he pulled the weapon out from under the man, tucking the offending object away to deal with later. For now, he set the man up on an IV drip and covered him up—leaving strict instructions for the Tardis to warn him when the man was awake, before heading out to deal with the aliens outside. Yet, his mind kept drifting back to the mysterious man that now slept in his home.


I woke, feeling dazed as I stared up at the white ceiling in confusion. Where… I bolted upright at the thought of being alive after the shooting and in a hospital—the last few years of near starvation and sleeping in gutters having been a dream. Almost at once though, my hopes were dashed.

There was no window in my room. No call button, no other occupants, no nurses, doctors, or clipboards. No television in the corner, no joined restroom or closets. Nothing a normal hospital room would have. There were machines I didn't recognize and no signs of visitors with get-well cards or extra chairs. But if not a hospital, then where? Just as the question passed through my mind, the door opened, and a familiar young man stepped in with a grin.

I resisted the urge to curse my luck. A parallel universe. A familiar one at that. Just my luck. I thought as the Doctor stepped over with his hands tucked into the pockets of his pin-striped suit.

"Hello, again! Glad you're finally feeling better." He smiled, moving over to take out the IV in my arm. "I was a little worried for a minute there. Took three days for your fever to break. You're probably hungry, so I'll take you to the kitchen as soon as you think you're ready."

He rambled just as quickly as I remembered from the show—quick enough to leave a listener questioning what had been said, if they hadn't been ready for it.

"Who are you?" I questioned first, needing some confirmation to my theory of a parallel world.

He blinked, confused for a millisecond before understanding dawned on him. "Oh! Right. I had a different face back then," he muttered before growing cheerful once more. "I'm the Doctor. Just 'the Doctor.'"

I hesitated. "Alan Thompson."

His grin somehow grew wider. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Alan Thompson. I've got a few questions if that's all right."

It wasn't, but I wasn't about to tell him that and just remained silent to see what he wanted.

"Do you remember how you got here?"

I frowned, unsure of what he meant. Here as in this universe? Does he know? Or does he mean before I fell unconscious? I assumed he meant the latter and spoke slowly as I watched for a reaction.

"I had come down from a rooftop."

He flinched there, looking away awkwardly.

"I was going to be sick, leaned up against a wall, except… it was a door."

The Doctor nodded. "That's right. Anything after that?"

"Metal floor, someone moving me, then I passed out."

He bobbed his head again as I looked around for my coats, beginning to feel chilled. I spotted them and grabbed them, tugging them on before I sensed something missing. Where… I checked my pockets and then stiffened as I realized someone had removed my belongings and hence, my gun.

"Where is it?" I asked, making him turn to me.

"Where's what?"

I looked at him, taking in his carefully schooled expression and immediately understanding. He knows. I grit my teeth, trying not to get annoyed with the man across from me who knew exactly what I was talking about.

"My gun," I said bluntly as we locked gazes heatedly.

"I got rid of it. I don't allow weapons on my ship," he replied calmly, but his words were like a bucket of ice water being dumped over my body.

No… No, he's lying. He has to be. It can't be gone. It can't be. That was… That was the only thing… My hands curled into fists as I pushed my legs over the edge of the bed.

"You're lying," I murmured.

"No, I'm not. I don't care for weapons of any kind on my ship and—"

I grabbed him by the front of his coat, yanking him towards me and not even caring that he mentioned a ship.

"You did not throw it out," I growled.

"I did," he answered voice calm and only adding to my fury.

"How dare you. How dare you throw it away like it was garbage. You don't know me. You don't know what that meant to me. That was the only thing I had left. The only thing!" my voice cracked slightly, betraying the wave of emotion I was fighting to hold back. "And you just trashed it?"

He seemed stunned, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to find something to say.

"I—"

I didn't give him the chance, releasing him and pushing myself onto my feet shakily. There was nothing he could say to me now that would make me less upset unless the weapon suddenly reappeared.

"I need to go."

He jolted up after me as I left the med bay, trying to stop me. "Ah, wait! You're just going to leave? You just got better, and I haven't even explained—"

I cut him off again, feeling a headache coming on in my emotional frustration. "Explain?" I snapped, whipping around to face him. "You trashed the only thing that held meaning to me and you want me to stay?"

"Look, I'm sorry," he apologized. "It was wrong of me to do something like that, but it was a weapon!"

"A pen could be a weapon in the wrong hands!" I shouted back, annoyed at how simple-minded he was being. "Who are you to decide whether I'm guilty of killing someone when we've just met?"

"You're saying you've never killed someone?" He questioned accusingly. "Why carry a weapon at all then?"

My headache pounded in my head worse than before, causing a sort of ringing in my ears as I struggled to calm down and not strangle the man before me.

"I have killed. I have hurt people, but I don't hold onto that gun to actively attack people. It's been a protector. It's kept me safe when dealing with those less willing to show the same kindness in return," I tried to explain, voice lowered and still seeing a look of apprehension on his face. "That was before. It's different now."

"How can it be different?" He argued, giving me a once over. "In your position—"

"Fuck my position!" I snarled, earning a distasteful frown for my curse. But he pushed a very sensitive button there. "That gun was there to remind me of the lives I took with it, so every day I can tell myself that I will be better than the man that shot them."

He was finally quiet, solemn at my response, but his actions still ate away at me.

"It was the only thing I had left from…" From my world. "…back before this mess."

"I'm… I really am sorry."

I shook my head, knowing better. "No. No, you're not. You'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"You don't know—"

"Yeah, I do," I said, giving him a look over my shoulder. "You just gave me a lecture on why you got rid of it. You just showed me how much you hate weapons, and it wouldn't surprise me if that feeling transferred to the people carrying them."

"I don't hate you."

"I don't believe you."

We kept our eyes locked for a moment that seemed to last far too long before he let out a long sigh and reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out a familiar block of metal and my eyes widened—heart skipping a beat. He held it out to me and I took it—immediately feeling that net of safety settle over my shoulders at the feeling of it in my hands.

I looked up from the gun, eyeing him suspiciously. "Why?"

He must have expected anger because his tense shoulders relaxed slightly at my question.

"I was going to get rid of it," he admitted, watching as I gave the gun a look-over and slid it back into my waistband. "But after what you said… I think I understand that… you're not the type of person to do something… wrong, even with a weapon."

I frowned as I eyed him, turning to the doorway leading out. "You're an idiot."

I could feel him grinning behind my back, accepting my silent truce, and that smile must have only grown when I walked into the next room.

I was stunned—unable to move from my spot a few paces within the large room before me. Bronze pillars shaped like coral or gnarled tree branches rose out of the metal grating at my feet. A console littered with buttons and levers surrounded a tall cylindrical spire that glowed an eerie green. All of this slammed into my mind in an instant—abruptly reminding me of something he said earlier.

"Y-You said… ship?" I breathed out, turning around slowly to find him grinning away like a kid high on candy.

"I did." He nodded, moving past me and up to the console—leaning against it with his hands tucked into his pockets.

"As in… alien ship? Like a-a spaceship?"

"Yup. Are you okay?" He asked, eyeing me in almost concern.

I had paled a few shades at this information. I hadn't watched very much of the Doctor Who series, so most of this was new to me. I-I just thought he was some augmented human being with two hearts or something, but an alien? He's so… He's just like…

"You look like us. Like a human," I blurted out dumbly.

"Actually, you look like us," he corrected cheekily. "We came first."

"We?"

"Time Lords. Or, well, Time Lord. I'm the last one," he said softly, resonating with me.

I'm the only one too. We're both alone in this universe… No, don't think about it. Stop thinking about it. I looked away from him, clearing my throat.

"Sorry."

He shrugged, moving around the console and messing with some controls as I looked around some more—too interested to remember that I had originally been on my way out.

"Do you like it?" The Doctor questioned, and I nodded as I lightly touched a coral pillar.

"Yeah. It's nice. Very…" I tried to think up a word to describe it—closing my eyes as the ship hummed under my palm. "…warm."

"Warm?"

My eyes snapped open as I cleared my throat, removing my hand as pink dusted my cheeks in embarrassment.

"Y-Yeah, um… homely, maybe? I don't really…" I looked over to see him smiling in amusement, adding to my embarrassment. "I-I'm not good at describing things."

"No! It's fine. Really. I like it. 'Homely.'"

The light flickered, and a hum echoed through the room.

"She likes it too, apparently." The Doctor grinned, patting the console as a shiver racked my spine.

"She? You mean, it's alive?"

"Yup!" He chirped before he seemed to have realized something. "Ah, I probably should have said she was alive a little smoother. My companion, Rose, she had a hard time with that information. Are you all right? Is that… okay?"

"It's a bit… weird," I admitted, looking up at the ceiling. "Can it—she—do anything else?"

"Well, she's a sentient space and time machine. She translates languages for you and travels. Oh! She can understand you and what you want. So, if you ever get lost, you can ask, and she'll help you out," he rattled on, but my mind had latched on to something else he'd mentioned.

"Time machine? S-She can travel in time too?"

He blinked. "Didn't I mention that?"

I shook my head as hope filled my chest. "What about other places? Can she travel to parallel universes?"

His expression scrunched as he quickly shook his head. "Oh, no. Parallel universes have been locked for ages. My people, the Time Lords, they locked them because it was too dangerous and risky to travel between them. World lines were blurring, history was changing, whole universes were being destroyed. No, no. Travel between parallel universes is impossible."

The hope I had felt was abruptly crushed and smothered like a cigarette underfoot. The fascination and joy that had begun to creep onto my face fell, and my heart sank as I turned away from him to gaze solemnly at the doors.

"Oh…"

"Something wrong?"

"No. It's nothing. I just—" I got my hopes up. I know better. I should know better, but I didn't care. I need to stop this. Nip it in the bud, Thompson. Now. "—It's nothing. Really. I… Thank you." I turned to face him once more, feeling the desperate need to leave now that I knew he couldn't help me—even with a space and time machine. "For helping me, I mean. I should… probably go now though."

"Do you want to go?" He asked, making me stiffen.

No. Don't tempt me. There's nothing here for me. Just let me leave. "I-I…"

"Because you don't have to," he continued, making my teeth clench as I fought against wanting to stay. "We can go traveling, see the universe. I'll introduce you to my companion too! I'm sure she won't mind."

"You don't want me," I stated, harsher than I meant to, easing up a bit. "I'm nobody. I'm just some homeless guy who happened to fall asleep on your porch, sick."

"So? I think you're interesting; my ship likes you. What more could I want?" He said, matter-of-factly.

"I have a gun. I could be dangerous," I replied, beginning to get desperate.

"We already established that," he hummed, catching on to what I was attempting to do. "Why are you so against this? Alan, why are you trying so hard to end up back out there—tired, cold, homeless, and alone. I'm giving you the opportunity of a lifetime! But you're not even attempting to consider it."

Don't give in. You can't tell him. If he finds out what you've done, all those people you've killed with the weapon burning into your back right now… You saw how he reacted. If he knew it was true—

He'd throw you out.

My mind stopped, considering telling him everything, just so I wouldn't have to keep standing here—in the ship that probably knew exactly what I was thinking.

He would hate me.

It was that thought that was preventing me from telling him. He was the first to look at me, to care—other than the man with the large ears and blue box. He took me in, talked to me like a human being, healed me, and made me have hope for the first time since I had ended up trapped in this universe. He caught my interest and gave me something to be interested in. I didn't want him to hate me. A childish thought, but he had managed to earn my respect in but a few moments. I didn't want to lose that.

But I wasn't sure I wanted to stay either.


"I lied."

The Doctor raised a brow as the man refused to face him once more.

"About the gun," Alan clenched his fists before relaxing them. "I've killed people. Innocent people. My partner just…" He trailed off and the Doctor went through what the man had just said.

A partner… Was he law enforcement? Army officer? To have a weapon like he did… The Doctor never cared for law enforcement and even less for soldiers, but what the man had said before resonated with him. He knew what it was like to lose someone close and despite his previous misgivings about Alan and his gun, the reason behind why the man carried it was very telling of the person behind the tough outer appearance Alan presented.

Alan was a very proud person who kept his feelings close to his chest but wasn't afraid to speak his mind when the conversation required it of him. He had seen and dealt with a lot, including harassment—if how he reacted to being questioned before was any clue. There was something dark and sad lying in his eyes though, something the Doctor saw that made him wonder what he had been through to earn such a look at his young age.

Now though, the Doctor was giving him a chance. The man must have hated to be in a position of homelessness like he was now, and there was something curious about him that held the Doctor's interest. Held it enough to make him want to invite Alan to join him and Rose on their adventures… Yes, Alan seemed intent to stay away, to leave. Even going as far as trying to get on the Doctor's bad side in an attempt to get thrown out.

The Doctor saw through this attempt easily, but it didn't help him understand why Alan was so adamant about leaving. Surely, staying here would be better than struggling to survive out there. So, why—It was then the Doctor figured it out.

"You're punishing yourself."

Alan stiffened as the Doctor stepped away from the console towards him.

"You're blaming yourself for something. Your partner?" The Doctor tested, catching a flinch run through Alan's spine. "So, you can't be happy if he's not. You blame yourself for his death, so you're punishing yourself by not giving yourself a chance to be happy. That, and you don't want to get close to people because you're afraid you'll end up doing the same to them."

"Shut up," Alan bit out, turning to glare at the unfazed Doctor. "You don't know anything about me."

The Doctor didn't back down, didn't blink, as he faced the distraught person in front of him. "I may not know much about you, but just from what you've been saying, I can get an idea. You're not all that hard to figure out, and… I know how it feels to hurt people and be afraid of hurting people. So, I may not know exactly what you're dealing with, but I know that taking good opportunities away from yourself—limiting yourself—is not going to help ease any of the guilt that you're feeling. How would your partner react if he saw you acting like this?"

Alan seemed to deflate at those words—glare faltering and the hard lines on his face going soft. "I… wouldn't know. He was new. We'd only been partnered up a few weeks after I lost… my other partner." Alan dragged a hand down his face tiredly. "I only knew his name. God, nothing ever goes right."

The strong, stubborn man he's seen earlier seemed to crumble in on himself, looking all the more like a thin, homeless beggar. The Doctor hated seeing this, hated seeing the strong lose hope, especially through self-blame.

"Just give it a chance," he said then, making those tired grey eyes drift back up to his. "Travel with me. Just for a trip or two, and if you're still set on returning to… wherever then I'll drop you right back off."

The man stared silently, considering the offer being presented to him carefully before speaking up.

"Why me?" He asked softly. "Why are you so adamant about taking some homeless beggar with you traveling? Why me, specifically?"

"Because you're interesting." The Doctor shrugged, tipping his head with a big grin. "Isn't that enough?"

"Interesting…"

"Yup."

"Me…"

The Doctor nodded with a hum. "Interesting people make the best companions. Even the homeless kind."

That earned an amused snort from Alan, who soon relaxed.

"Yeah, all right. Fine. I'll take your offer then, Doc."

"Perfect." The Doctor beamed, bounding to the console and making the ship jolt as he powered it up. "Rose is at her mum's place right now. So, we'll just pop back to pick her up and be off!"

Alan, who had grabbed a hold of a railing to avoid being knocked off his feet, raised a brow. "Mum's? How old is she?"

"Eighteen," the Doctor answered idly, though Alan's eyes widened.

"A-And her mum is okay with her traveling alone with some thirty-some-odd space alien?"

"Eh, she came around," the Doctor said, stopping the ship and turning. "And I'm over nine hundred, not thirty."

"Well, shit," Alan breathed out. "So, do you age really slow or something? God, you're not immortal or nothing, right?"

"Oh, no. Definitely not. It just takes a bit more effort to kill me, is all. And I do age, but slowly, as you said," the Doctor explained, moving to the door. "Time Lords have this neat trick though, to cheat death. We regenerate. Everything about us changes, but we're still the same person. We just look different and have some personality changes. I just regenerated myself. I used to have big ears and a leather jacket. It was how we met."

"Big ears… Oh!" Alan's eyes widened as he stepped out the door behind the Doctor, "That was you?"

"Oh, yes," the Doctor chuckled.

"But then—"

"Doctor!"

The two men turned to the young blonde racing towards them—the Doctor's grin widening as she pulled to a stop and eyed Alan.

"Rose, Alan. Alan, Rose."

"We've met," Rose mused, giving Alan a once over that made the man bristle. "Feeling better?"

"Marginally."

The Doctor, sensing the tension, cleared his throat. "He's coming with us if that's all right."

Rose whipped around at that, looking briefly at Alan once more, before grabbing the Doctor's sleeve.

"Can I talk with you for a minute?"

The Doctor didn't really have a choice in the matter, as she dragged him a few feet away. "Rose, what—"

"He's coming with us?" She cut him off, pointing at Alan. "He's coming with us? You just picked up some guy off the street and decided, 'Hey! Why not show him the universe'?"

"Well… yeah," the Doctor answered, brows furrowing. "He's interesting and has it rough. I thought it would be fine. I only offered him a few trips."

In the hopes that he'd stay longer, the Doctor thought but didn't mention. It was already a tense situation. Better not make it worse until they get to know each other better.

"You can't be serious," Rose muttered. "You honestly think he'd be able to handle it?"

"He handled it well enough so far. Time and space machine, Time Lord alien pilot. Was a bit shocked, but…" The Doctor looked over at Alan and blinked.

Alan had discovered the Tardis exterior and was currently jogging around the blue police box in barely-contained awe. The Doctor couldn't help but smirk at Rose's expression.

"He seems to get a kick out of it."

Rose shot him a dirty look. "Fine, but you're responsible for him if he starts acting weird. And you get to explain the sudden addition of a homeless man to my mum."

The Doctor grimaced at the thought, earning a triumphant grin from Rose as they went back to join Alan in front of the Tardis. Immediately, the man was standing right before them—eyes wide.

"It's smaller on the outside."

The Doctor pouted, but Alan wasn't done.

"And… bigger on the inside? How?"

There we go. The Doctor grinned as Rose rolled her eyes. "It's a bit complicated, but it's a whole dimension in a box."

"That is amazing," Alan breathed out, eyeing the box once more before the Doctor cleared his throat.

"Well, first thing's first. If we're going anywhere, you—" He draped an arm over Alan's shoulders, making the man stiffen. "—need to get cleaned up."

Alan looked down at himself and winced in understanding as the Doctor led him inside. He was covered in dirt and grime, and he hadn't had a full-on beard since his first partner had passed away. He desperately needed a shower and shave. Especially if there's a young woman on board. God, what must she think of me like this? I had forgotten how mangey I looked.

"All right. The bathroom is the third right, down the hall, fourth door on the left after the Roman statue," the Doctor explained, pulling me out of my thoughts. "If you get lost, I'm sure the Tardis will help."

Said ship hummed in agreement.

"Once you're done there, she'll lead you to the wardrobe where you can pick out whatever suits you," the Doctor hummed, and Alan hesitated.

"You… don't mind?"

"Nah. I've got more clothes than I know what to do with." He waved off, lightly nudging Alan into motion. "You'll understand when you see it. Go on. We'll wait until you're finished before we head out.

Alan nodded slowly and entered the hall as Rose sighed.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Doctor."

So, do I.


I felt significantly better after having my first hot shower since I ended up in this universe. I went to shave though, and I tensed uneasily when I finished. Without the beard, the scar that was stretched across the right side of my face was plainly visible. Even I grimaced at it and how it disfigured my mouth into a permanent snarl. If they thought I looked bad before, what about now?

I hastily pushed the thought from my mind along with the other self-deprecating comments. I'm out of shape. I lost weight. I'm too skinny. Damn, my face. The Tardis led me down the hall with various lights before I discovered the wardrobe and damn was he right.

"Too many clothes? The man practically owns a department store!" I exclaimed in the massive hall full of every type of clothing imaginable.

There was a chirping from the ship that made me shoot a disgruntled look at the ceiling.

"Don't laugh at me. How was I supposed to react?"

It was odd, speaking with the ship, but it wouldn't be the first time I spoke with an inanimate object. This one just responded back. I went through the clothing though, glad to be ridding myself of the old, smelly, previously-used coats and other items of my current outfit. The Tardis helped in narrowing down my choices too, and soon I was fully dressed and feeling far more confident than before. Now, to see how they deal with it.


The Doctor and Rose both looked up from what they were doing as Alan walked in. They couldn't help but be stunned at the transformation he'd gone through just by showering and getting a new set of clothes. His hair still needed a bit of a trim, but even Rose couldn't help but feel that she'd misjudged him earlier.

A tight, white shirt clung to what muscle he still had—which was still quite a bit, despite Alan's opinion—and his blue jeans were tucked into the black combat boots the Tardis had pointed out to him. With a black leather jacket, reminding her of the one the Ninth Doctor wore, Alan was quite the sight. He's actually kind of… hot. Rose thought in embarrassment as Alan noticed heir staring and hesitated on coming closer.

"What?" He questioned, looking between them cautiously before glancing down at himself. "Too much? Should I put the jacket back, or…" He lifted his gaze—steely grey eyes narrowing. "Is it my face?"

The duo hadn't even looked at his face until he mentioned it and both their eyes widened at the scar that wrapped around the lower, right-hand side of Alan's cheek.

"Oh my God," Rose breathed out, unsure of how to react.

While disfiguring, it wasn't actually that bad to look at. Rose just couldn't imagine what may have happened to cause such a scar, much less how Alan felt about it. The Doctor too was surprised. Neither had expected it, but Alan took their shock for something more sinister.

"I'll go find something to cover it," he muttered, turning to head back down the hall. "Sorry for scaring you."

"No! No, that's not it," the Doctor argued, rushing over to him and tugging him back to the center of the room. "We were just surprised, is all. Right, Rose?"

Rose nodded hastily, not wanting to offend Alan. "Yeah, no. I was just shocked. I mean…" She gave him another once-over. "Wow. You clean up good."

Alan hesitated, looking between them for hints of lying before settling his gaze back on Rose. "I'm too old for you."

She flushed a bright red and slapped him on the arm. "I didn't mean it like that!"

The Doctor almost thought a fight was brewing but caught the small upturn to Alan's lips and the amused twinkle in his eye. They're getting along. Good.

"Do you want me to trim your hair, Alan, or are you fine?" He offered, and Alan groaned.

"Oh, thank God. Would you? I considered doing it myself but figured it wouldn't go well."

"Sure, sure. Rose, we'll be right back."

She nodded as the Doctor led Alan back towards the bathroom to get his hair cut. He couldn't help his curiosity though.

"What happened?" The Doctor asked as he started to trim Alan's hair.

The man didn't need much more to know what the Doctor was talking about.

"I was shot."

A simple answer, one the Doctor might have been able to deduce in his own, which was why he waited for Alan to divulge some more. It didn't take long.

"It was a raid," Alan murmured. "A big-time drug runner and human trafficker we'd been pining after was shut up in a hotel room. We burst in with SWAT and my partner and I went to take the bedroom as they rounded up some guys in the main room. Should've shot through the door before going in. He shot, I was hit, and my partner was…"

"Sorry," the Doctor apologized, not meaning to have brought up the sensitive subject of his partner's death. Why does he blame himself though? "You were a police officer then?"

"Detective," Alan corrected. "I was going on my seventh year in the force. One of the youngest they ever had."

"So, how'd you end up here?" The Doctor asked, hesitant but Alan hadn't protested yet.

"You wouldn't believe me, even if I told you," he replied, surprising the Doctor as he finished up. "Long story short, I lost everything after that bust and ended up in England. Then, ended up with you." Alan turned to him, now that his hair was significantly shorter and styled almost like the Doctor's own hair. "I won't give you more than that."

The Doctor was hardly phased by his stubbornness and grinned. "I suspect not. We've only known each other a day. Though I appreciate what you have told me."

Alan got up with a grumble, running a hand through his hair as he looked himself over in the mirror. "You're easy to talk to and I've been lacking a proper speaking companion for some time now. So, consider yourself lucky. Good luck getting anything more out of me."

"I'll accept that challenge."

"It's not—" Alan turned to see the Doctor grinning and sighed. "Fine. Fine, whatever you want. Not like I can stop you."

"Perfect! So, what do you think? Do you like it?" He asked about Alan's new haircut.

"It's… like yours," he deadpanned.

"No! It's, um… shorter. See?" The Doctor moved in close to show how his hair stuck up higher than Alan's. "Mine is taller."

Alan shifted away slightly, mumbling under his breath. "You probably only knew how to cut one hairstyle."

"That's not true! I-I… I know more…"

He wasn't sure he did, honestly, but he wasn't about to mention that to Alan now. Not when he was already being teased.

"C-Come on. We better get back to Rose."

"You two aren't together, I hope, right?" Alan asked abruptly as they walked, making the Doctor sputter.

"W-What? No! That would never work out."

Alan's eyes narrowed before he moved past the Doctor. "You might want to tell her that then, Doc. She looks pretty taken with you already."

The Doctor stopped walking, mind spinning at the thought until he noticed Alan had proceeded to walk away—leaving him behind. He hurried to catch up, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"I'll, um… I'll do that."

Alan glanced at him briefly and then nudged his shoulder. "Don't overthink it. Just forget I said anything."

The Doctor cracked a smile at his attempt at thoughtfulness. "I won't forget about it. You're right. If she is… interested, then I'll need to talk to her. For now, though, we've got trips to go on."

They stepped back out into the console room, earning a smile from Rose as the Doctor bounded to the controls.

"Now then, past or future?" He looked to Alan, who blinked in surprise.

"Y-You're asking me?"

"First flyer's privilege," he hummed.

"Um…" Alan rubbed at his scar awkwardly. "Future, I suppose."

"Excellent! One trip to the future it is! Hang on tight!"

Alan and Rose were quick to grab hold of the railing as he sent the ship off. It wasn't as bumpy as it could have been, which Alan was grateful for, and once they landed the Doctor waved Alan towards the door.

"You first."

Alan was hesitant about going out on his own the first trip, but a quick nudge by the Doctor from behind, and out he went.

He didn't get far, because upon stepping out of the ship, his eyes were locked onto the world around him. A large city sat on the horizon, flying cars zooming between skyscrapers and towers as a hint of apple brushed across his nose. Grinning in amusement at his reaction, the Doctor came up beside him.

"It's the year five billion and twenty-three. We're in the galaxy M87 and this? This is New Earth."

"That's just… That's just…" Even Rose was stunned at the scenery.

"Not bad. Not bad at all."

"Not bad?" Alan scoffed. "This is brilliant. It's the future."

Rose nodded in agreement. "It's amazing. I'll never get used to this. Never. Different ground beneath my feet, different sky."

"Why does it smell like apples?" Alan asked, earning a smirk from the Doctor who leaned in to answer.

"Apple grass."

Alan raised a brow. "Apple grass?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"What the hell," Alan breathed out, looking at the grass below in stunned disbelief.

"It's beautiful," Rose said, beaming. "Oh, I love this. Can I just say, traveling with you? I love it."

"Me too. Come on," the Doctor hummed, leading them to a nice patch of grass where they could watch the city comfortably.

He spread out his coat and sat down on it with Rose as Alan just plopped down beside them in the grass.

"So, the year five billion, the sun expands, the Earth gets roasted," the Doctor explained, and Rose smiled fondly.

"That was our first date."

"We had chips," he smiled as Alan cleared his throat with a pointed look at him.

Oh… Oh, he's right, isn't he? She… She likes me. Oh, dear. This is going to be harder than I thought.

"So, anyway…" he murmured, getting back on topic. "Planet gone, all rocks and dust, but the human race lives on, spread out across the stars. Soon as the Earth burns up—oh yeah—they all get nostalgic. Big revival movement, but then find this place. Same size as the Earth, same air, same orbit. Lovely. Call goes out, the humans move in."

"No one else lived here, I hope," Alan muttered, and the Doctor shook his head.

"Nah, empty planet until you lot moved in."

Alan hummed in acknowledgment and plucked a blade of grass to look at.

"What's the city called?" Rose questioned, drawing the Doctor's attention back to her as she leaned into his shoulder.

"New New York."

"Oh, come on," she scoffed, and the Doctor leaned away as he pushed the issue.

"It is! It's the city of New New York. Strictly speaking, it's the fifteenth New York since the original, so that makes it New New New New New New New New New New New New New New New New York." He spotted Rose's expression and paused. "What?"

"You're so different."

He smiled, hoping that him being different was a good thing in her new perspective. "New New Doctor."

Rose cracked a grin, relieving the Doctor as she bounced in place. "Can we go visit New New York, so good they named it twice?"

"Well, I thought we might go there first," he said, pointing to the nearest skyscraper as Alan dropped the grass and glanced at the building.

"What is it?"

"Some sort of hospital. Green moon on the side." He pointed out. "That's the universal symbol for hospitals. I got this. A message on the psychic paper."

Alan and Rose glanced at the paper in his wallet.

"Someone wants to see me."

"Hm, and I thought we were just sightseeing," Rose complained mildly, but Alan was frowning.

"So, if I said I wanted to go to the past—"

"We would have gone but come here right after." The Doctor shrugged. "The joy of having a time machine is that we'll never be late for anything."

"All right," Alan mused, standing and brushing off his jeans. "Though, I don't know what you meant by a message or psychic paper or whatever."

"What?" The Doctor and Rose questioned, startling him.

"Um, well, your wallet just gave me a headache looking at it. I didn't see any message either."

The Doctor stood and pulled it out again, showing it to Alan who grimaced slightly. "Nothing?"

"No. I told you there's nothing," Alan grumbled, rubbing his eyelids. "Could you stop waving that in my face? I said it gives me a headache."

"That is brilliant!" The Doctor grinned, missing Rose's disgruntled look. "You must have unique mental capabilities. I've never heard of someone getting a headache from a psychic paper before."

"Lucky me," he grunted, shooting the Doctor an annoyed look. "Can we go see your sick friend now?"

The Doctor poured at his response but nodded. "Yeah, let's go."