PROLOGUE


It is said that everyone has a guardian angel...


- auto-destruct in two minutes –

A groan escaped the Doctor as he returned to the realm of consciousness, only to immediately become alarmed when he realised that he'd been handcuffed to a pillar.

"Oh, no, no, no!"

His head snapped in the direction where a young man with messy black hair was busy connecting wires together in a chair – the same chair that the Doctor himself had been intending to take – and horror dawned on the Time Lord like the rise of a blazing sun over an already scorching desert as he realised what the man planned to do.

"What are you doing?" he exclaimed, "That's my job!"

"What," the younger man scoffed as he glanced up from his handywork, "Am I not allowed to have a career now as well?"

Instead of answering him, the Doctor tried to get up, though he was once again reminded about the handcuffs that currently had him restrained.

"Why am I handcu- Why do you even have handcuffs?" he questioned the blacket as he continued to try get himself free.

The other man just smirked; his dark brown eyes alight with mischief despite the situation he was literally sitting in.

"Spoilers."

"This is not a joke. Stop this now," the Time Lord continued to try and reason, "This is gonna kill you! I'll have a chance; you don't have any!"

The blacket had the audacity to roll his eyes at the distraught Doctor.

"You wouldn't have a chance, and neither do I!" he snapped.


Someone who is always there to help in dire times...


"I'm timing it for the end of the countdown. There'll be a blip in the command flow. That way it should improve our chances of a clean download," the man continued, his tone far more controlled.

"River, please, no!"

"Funny thing is," the man continued to muse, ignoring the Time Lord and his pleas, "This means you've always known how I was going to die. All the time we've been together, you knew I was coming here." He let out a chuckle, though it lacked any humour, "The last time I saw you – the real you, the future you, I mean – you turned up on my doorstep with a new haircut and suit..." his smile was full of sad fondness as he gazed at the Doctor. "You took us to Darillium to see the Singing Towers. Oh, what a night that was. The towers sang... and you... you both cried."

- auto-destruct in one minute –

"You wouldn't tell me why," he continued with a small shake of his head, "But I suppose you knew it was time – my time – time to come to The Library."

River let out a huff, nodding to where his screwdriver – along with the Doctor's – sat atop a blue diary, right beside the unconscious form of a young woman with – blue?! - hair.

"Enaid even gave me your sonic screwdriver – that should have been a clue."

The Doctor tried to make a grab for his sonic, his gaze barely flickering to the unconscious woman when he found that the device was just out of his reach; almost as if he was making sure that the bluette was actually unconscious.

"There's nothing either of you can do, Doctor. I had to use a patch on her after you went down-"

"Let me do this!" the Time Lord cut in with another plea, tugging helplessly at the cuffs that held him back.

"If you die here, it'll mean we'd have never met you," River said sadly, shaking his head at the Time Lord.

"Time can be rewritten!"

The man's eyes glowered at the Doctor's statement, his lip curling at his boldness to say such a thing.

"Not those time, Doctor. Not. One. Line. We both know what would happen if you changed just one thing." His eyes went to the fallen bluette, and the Doctor couldn't stop himself from wincing. However when River re-met his gaze, the young man's expression softened at the pained look on the Time Lord's face. "But it's okay, it's not over for either of you. You'll both see me again. You've got so much time to come. You, me and Enaid, time and space," the blacket smirked, "You watch us run."


Sometimes they're strangers we meet on the street...


"River, you know my name..."

- auto-destruct in ten…. -

"You whispered it in my ear."

- ….nine, eight, seven, six…. -

The blacket placed a circlet on his head, connecting himself directly to the computer.

"There's only one reason I would ever tell anyone my name…."

- ….five…. –

"There's only one time I could…."

- ….four…. –

"Oh, shush," River soothed, though his eyes fell from the Doctor's.

- ….three, two…. –


Other times they're the best friend that had never left your side...


No!

He didn't look away from the Doctor!

The Time Lord's eyes widened as they followed his gaze back to the fallen bluette.

"Spoilers."

- ….one…. -

The blacket connected the cables he had been holding together, and there was a blinding white light that forced the Doctor to shield his eyes.


This however, is the tale of one such guardian who started out as the first...


A busy, and oddly glowing shadow near the end of eleven-year-old, Duane Wyre's bed was the only warning the boy had before he suddenly found himself under attack by something that seemed to both blend into the shadows that were cast over the bedroom due to Duane's lamp, as well as illuminate the night with a warm, royal blue.

"That's it, Enaid!" the blacket cried as he suddenly grappled the creature within his arms and begun to – rather gently – hug the 'feisty beast' to death as it continued with its attempt to 'maul' him, the book he had been ready falling to the floor with an unheard 'thump'.

The rather odd-coloured fox put up a good fight as she continued to try and escape the boy's grasp, nipping at Duane's hair whenever the inky black locks got within snapping range; but if anyone had managed to get a glimpse upon the peculiar pair, they would have noted that neither were really trying to achieve the results that they made out they were.

With one final – and rather dramatic whine-bark – Enaid slumped in the eleven-year-old's arms – dead. The fox's spectacular demise had the boy chuckling as he collapsed backwards onto the bed, taking Enaid with him.

"It's Easter tomorrow, Enaid," Duane whispered after he managed to catch his breath, and the fox looked up to the boy curiously; her blue eyes almost glowing in the darkened room. "I wonder if Amelia has heard back from Santa ye- Ow!" the boy continued as his gaze drifted to the obscure, w-shaped crack that lined the wall behind his desk, only to break off with a cry of pain when his furry companion nipped at his hand.

Not hard enough to draw blood, though painful enough to gain Duane's attention.

Enaid lifted her head as she pulled away from Duane, giving the eleven-year-old a pointed look that seemed so odd on such a young, inhuman face. Though after a moment of staring at each other, it was as if Duane knew what Enaid was trying to tell him with just the expression alone, the boy rolled his eyes.

"You're right," he remarked, pushing himself up off the bed with a huff, causing his furry companion to end up half-sprawled on his lap with a startled yelp. "She's forgotten again, hasn't she," Duane continued, oblivious to Enaid's predicament as the fox straightened herself out and moved from the boy's once-safe-however-now-not-so-certain lap. Though she ended up sitting on the bed with an air that screamed, "I'm a fox, and I'm curious!" as Duane moved off the bed with an annoyed sigh before positioning himself in a kneeling position on the floor; propping his elbows onto the mattress in front of Enaid with his hands clasped together.

"Hope he's not busy," the eleven-year-old muttered, giving his furry companion a quick scratch that almost had Enaid falling over in complete bliss before the hand disappeared and rejoined its twin as Duane closed his eyes.

"Dear Santa," the boy begun, his voice dropping until it was barely above a whisper. Enaid watched on avidly; her bushy tail swishing back and forth across the mattress as her gaze moved between her charge and the obscure crack that she'd never liked the smell of. "Thank you for the cars, and the pencils-" A yip from Enaid had Duane pooping one eye open as he gave her a confused glance. However, an exclaimed, "Oh!" left him and he hurriedly reclosed his eyes and returned to his prayer after the fox had purposely licked her chops.

"And Enaid wants to thank you for the jerky-chews," he added before returning to why he was praying to Santa to begin with, "It's Easter now, so we hope that we didn't wake you, but honest, it is an emergency. There's a crack in my wall."

It was only at his own mention of the crack did Duane reopen both eyes to peek at the wall behind his desk where the dimly glowing, white crack was that Enaid had been keeping a sharp eye and ear on. Though the black-haired boy was quick to close his eyes once more, hastily returning to his prayer when his foxy companion decided that he was paying too much attention to the crack and had begun to bat, bat, bat at his hands with a paw.

Neither knew that the other had felt the same tingle pass up their spine the moment Duane had snapped his eyes closed and turned his head away from the crack, though the sensation had Enaid's hackles raising as she tensed. The whispered she could hear always coming from the crack seemed to magnify any time Duane focused too much on it, and she had never figured out why.

"Aunt Sarah says it's just an ordinary crack, but... me and En- Ow! Enaid, stop it! - Enaid and I! - both know it's not, because at night there's voices, so please, please, could you send someone to fix it? Or a policeman. Or a-"

The eleven-year-old broke off and Enaid was alert; her fur standing on end as her ears swivelled, trying to locate the rather strange whirring noise that had begun to fill the air. It was quickly accompanied by a loud crash that seemed to echo through the silence of the night that followed... and originated from the boy's backyard, of all places.

Duane jumped to his feet, and after giving the startled fox a glance, went for the torch on his bedside table before dashing over to the window. Enaid gave off a surprised, "Yip," when she realised that her charge wasn't where he had just been, and she was quick to follow after the blacket; managing to scramble up to the window's ledge with the boy's help so she could see what was out there.

Giving Enaid a comforting head scritch – both for himself and his companion – Duane used his other hand to flick on the torch and shined the beam out the window, and the pair gaped at the sight that confronted them.

There was a strange blue box laying on its side in the remains of what used to be Duane's garden shed.

"Yip?"

Enaid looked between Duane and the box, unsure if what she was seeing was real. And her confusion only seemed to grow when she noticed the smile that was fast to appear on her black-haired charge's lips.

Without a word, the eleven-year-old suddenly looked up towards the stary night sky above and – much to a perplexed fox kit's surprise – whispered, "Thank you, Santa," before he was running from the room.

Though he was forced to stop when Enaid protested the rough treatment and he was forced to let the disgruntled fox down.


And for one, became far more than a friend by the story's end...


"Enaid, wait up!" Duane cried as he watched the fox slip out the back door, having decided that he was taking far too long to get his shoes on. He quickly tugged on his last wellie and followed after Enaid, tightening his blue jacket around him the moment the chilly night air hit him.

However, as he came upon both his furry companion and the strange - smoking? - police box, the doors of said box were unexpectantly thrown open and a grappling hook went flying through the air.

Then much to the astonishment and surprise of both Enaid and Duane, the soaking wet head of brown, floppy-haired popped up from inside.

"Could I have an apple?" the strange man asked the moment he spotted Duane, and the eleven-year-old blinked.

That had not been what the boy had been expecting a man who had just popped out from a box that looked to have crashed into his garden shed to ask. Though then again, the blacket wasn't even certain that there even was a standard question - or response for that matter – for a situation like this.

A gentle nip on his hand had the boy blinking, and he realised that the man was still talking... as well as having succeeded in half climbing out of the strange box that he was now peering back inside of.

"...ad cravings before- Whoa! Look at that." the brunet gapped at whatever sight he saw inside the box.

"Are you okay?" Duane quired as he picked Enaid up from the ground and hugging the fox against his chest. The fox went willingly into his embrace, her size seeming to shrink in on itself so Duane wasn't struggling while she still trying to wrap her head around what she was seeing. As it were, it was only the simple fact that the eleven-year-old hoped that the man had come to see the crack in his wall that had stopped Duane from fleeing with his companion.

The brown-haired man's box did say 'POLICE', after all.

"Just had a fall," the man told the boy, blinking at Enaid whom he noted looked rather comfortable in Duane's arms as the fox stared at the box he was sitting on. "All the way down there, right into the library. Hell of a climb back up," he continued, blinking at the fox once more before eyebrows that were almost non-existent furrowed on his forehead and he looked back to the boy.

"You're soaking wet," the eleven-year-old stated, wondering what the strange man was going on about. It looked as though the brunet had fallen into a swimming pool, not a library.

"I was in the swimming pool," the man all but shrugged, and Duane adjusted his hold on Enaid as a frown begun to tug at his lips.

"You said you were in the library," he told the man, and his jostling of Enaid had the fox breaking out of whatever trance/shock she'd fallen into. And the moment that she had; the fox begun to convince her charge to put her down by wigging so much that the blacket almost ended up dropping her.

Without a backwards glance, and the moment she had all four paws firmly on the ground, Enaid was already tearing a path back to the house, ignoring the pair of green eyes that were following her; the glowing tip of her tail being the last thing the man saw before the fox all but vanished into the night.

"So was the swimming pool," the brunet retorted as he turned his attention back to the eleven-year-old boy, and a peculiar expression crossed his face when he noticed that the boy didn't look at all phased by the fact that a living, breathing, glowing fox had just allowed itself to be treated like the boy's most cherished teddy, before disappearing back inside.


This is the tale of a young man and his unfamiliarly familiar blue fox...


"Are you a policeman?" Duane suddenly asked, his gaze dropping to the writing that marked the side of the blue box the man was still sitting on.

He really did wish that the brunet was.

Well, the boy had wished for a lot of things... but right now, that was his most inner wish.

Police helped people, and he really needed help to get rid of the crack.

"Why?" the man questioned, his demeanour unexpectantly turning serious at the urgency that tinged Duane's tone, and all thoughts of the glowing fox... fled? "Did you call a policeman?"

"Did you come about the crack in my wall?" the eleven-year-old replied with another question, and it had the brunet blinking in confusion.

"What cra- Argh!" he begun, only to break off with a cry of pain, falling off the edge of the box.

"Are you alright, mister?" Duane quickly asked as he took a step towards the fallen brunet, concern written all over his face when he noticed that the man's clothes weren't just soaked, but utterly ruined as well.

"No, I'm fine. It's okay," the man shook his head, trying not to worry the boy, "This is all perfectly norm-" However he broke off once more, this time to gag as a wisp of golden light escaped his lips.

Now that had Duane pausing, realising that the man may not be the one he'd been praying for as he watched the wisp float away. "Who are you?" he questioned, turning his dark brown eyes back to the man who was looking down at his hands.

Hands that had started to shimmer with that same golden light.

"I don't know yet. I'm still cooking," the brunet replied, looking up from his hands and back to Duane, "Does it scare you?" he enquired, though was doubtful as to why the boy was terrified of a crack when he had a fox with him that the brunet had a feeling was far from normal.

And very familiar.

The boy shook his head, knowing that although his heart was pounding inside his chest, Duane was more confused by what he was seeing than anything. "No, it just looks weird," he stated honestly, and this time it was the man who shook his head.

"No, no, no. The crack in your wall. Does it scare you?" the man clarified.

Now the crack did scare Duane, who was quick to nod his head in the affirmative.

"Yes."

The man suddenly leapt to his feet at the blacket's words, and his sudden action caused Duane to jump, still a little baffled about what exactly was going on. "Well then, no time to lose. I'm the Doctor," the brunet introduced himself, "Do everything I tell you, don't ask stupid questions, and don't wander off."

Without another word, the Doctor then suddenly turned and started to walk away – only to promptly walk straight into a tree. Duane couldn't help the way his lip curled upwards as he tried to stifle a chuckle at the brunet's unusual behaviour, finding that the man looked rather funny laying sprawled out on the ground with an expression that made the boy think he wasn't sure as to how he ended up there.

"Are you all right?" he asked once more, managing to contain his mirth.

"Early days," the odd man replied as he looked up to the Scottish boy, though his view was a little... flipped. "Steering's a bit off."


And the self-proclaimed 'Mad Man' with his time travelling police box.


PROLOGUE COMPLETE


"Why couldn't you be the one who died?"

Blue eyes closed as fingers pinched the bridge of a young woman's nose.

"We went through this already, River," Arya all but whined right back to her brother, feeling the urge to throw something at the raven-haired teenager, "They only had him or the fox, and you said that you'd rather not play if you had to be a 'girl'. And anyway, the whole reason I got the game was because the main character had blue hair."

"But why would they kill off a player right at the beginning?" River continued to protest, glaring at the screen as it slowly loaded the next part of their game; almost as if he could change what had happened in the first chapter with just the look alone.

"They didn't kill him off!" Arya all but yelled at her brother, really contemplating in tossing the entire tv at him and take her new game around to her friends instead. Why she had thought asking him to play the game with her was a good idea in the first place, the bluette didn't know, and she was already regretting having asked.

"You two aren't fighting in there, are you?" a voice called, and the siblings shared a look.

"No, Aunt Sarah," they both chimed 'innocently'.

A woman with shoulder-length brown hair appeared in the doorway of the living room where the duo were lounging in, a sceptical eyebrow raised. "And all the whining I've been hearing?" she asked, looking at River first before turning her gaze onto Arya; both who were looking like the perfect picture of teenage innocence.

Sarah wasn't buying it for a moment.

The siblings exchanged a glance, and the brunet hummed.

"Try to keep the fights to a minimum, please," she told the pair with a pointed look, and the pair were quick to agree.

"I have a question," River spoke up after a moment, looking to his sister after their aunt had left.

Arya turned to him with a frown, unsure if she wanted to ask what he wanted to know, though the choice was taken from her when River continued.

"How did the game know we had an aunt named Sarah?"

The bluette's eyebrows furrowed and she looked back to the tv as the loading screen disappeared and two flashing rectangles appeared on the screen.

"Coincidence," she shrugged as she selected the flashing rectangle that read 'Launch Chapter One' and pressed 'A' on her controller.