Hello, my lovely readers.

First things first, you should know this is my FIRST fanfiction.

I've been haunting this site for several years now, being an unashamed fanfiction junkie, but I'd never ventured into actually writing fanfiction until recently. In fact, I created this account specifically to post this story.

I just couldn't get this idea out of my head and felt like I was going to go crazy unless I did something about it.

Aw, the sweet torture of waking up with a story scene in your head and feeling the pressing need to write it down.

The result is what you see in front of you. I've written several chapters so far...

And I thought to wait until I'd completed it, but having no one to read my story and give me feedback for so long...

I just couldn't hold back any longer!

Before you get started reading, you should know...

- This is NOT a self-insert, but it is an OC wakes up in Doctor Who reality.

- This is a Season 1 re-write, sort of. Well, you'll see.

- This story is rated M for language and adult themes.

- This may become a Doctor/OC story, but I'm not sure yet. Depends on my OC.

- I'm cross-posting this story onto Archive of Your Own.

Please no flames. Helpful and constructive feedback is welcome.

I have no beta, so any typos or grammatical errors are all mine. If anyone is interested in being a beta, let me know.

I hope you enjoy reading this. I had so much fun writing it.

Disclaimer: I own no rights to Doctor Who and make no profit from writing this. I'm just playing with the characters like they're action figures and I'm a kid with a god complex.

Any original characters are my creation.

Chapter 1

Edmund couldn't take it anymore. He seized her - his sweet, clever and irresistible Sonya - by the waist and yanked her delicious soft curves against his hard…

"What are you reading?"

Zoe Peyton shut the cover of her trashy romance novel so fast, a sharp slap echoed in the near-empty break room. A couple familiar faces around the watercolor looked her way at the intrusive sound, but they quickly lost interest when they noted nothing worth gossiping over. Or, so they believed.

Seeing it was her best-friend, Madison, all sass in a petite package, who had spoken to her and was striding toward her table, Zoe strategically shifted her hands just-so over the book's front cover. "Nothing of interest," she said in a deliberately neutral tone, though the telling blush dusting her cheeks belied her words.

Never one to miss anything, Madison raised a curved eyebrow and gave her best, Don't even try to bullshit me, Zoe, look. "Uh huh," she said, as she took the empty seat across from Zoe, "and that wasn't a shirtless man wearing a naked woman like a towel I saw on the cover."

"Yeah. Okay," Zoe said with an exaggerated sigh, "so maybe I picked up a romance paperback at the gas station this morning. Sue me." She flashed the paperback's erotic cover at her friend before hiding it in her backpack. Though she couldn't quite hide her disappointed frown. And it was just getting to the good part, too.

"Girl, you know, and I know, August doesn't want you reading that stuff."

"You mean he doesn't want me reading anything remotely interesting," Zoe corrected, shooting a mild glare at her friend. "All he ever let me read growing up was literary fiction and classics. That's all too slice-of-life for me. Give me adventure. Give me romance! Give me something magical, supernatural, and unbelievable!" At this point, she was waving her arms around the air in rapid circles as if to emphasize her desperate need for something other and different from the ordinary. A literary reflection on the average person's day-to-day life just wasn't going to cut it for her reading material.

Madison rolled her liquid-brown eyes and grabbed one of Zoe's free-wheeling arms. "Calm down before you give yourself an apoplexy."

Zoe lowered her arms with a displeased huff and pouted — something she would later deny if asked. She does not pout.

"Have you ever thought maybe he had a good reason not to let you read books like Harry Potter or watch Merlin?"

She gasped in mock horror. "But then I would have missed out on wizards and magic!"

And boy would she have missed out on some amazing stories if it weren't for meeting Madison all those years ago.

After her mother died, social services determined her uncle, August, as her only remaining living family. And that's how six-year-old Zoe found herself on his porch step all those years ago, clutching her gold dragon plushy (Mr. Knows-a-lot) and holding hands with a stern, cranky social worker (secretly dubbed The Kraken) by her side.

Thankfully, August sent The Kraken away and immediately went about making little Zoe feel at home. He couldn't quite hide his grief over his sister's death, but he soon became the father she never had.

Unfortunately for Zoe, her father figure has very strict ideas about what he considers appropriate entertainment. Sometimes, living with August made her feel like Harry Potter must have growing up with the Dursleys. A reference she would never have known if not for the gift that was Madison.

Because like Harry, any time something impossible or fantastical was even mentioned — like the word magic — August would lecture her for hours! He'd tell her in no certain terms that magic, aliens, the paranormal — you name it — weren't real. He claimed he didn't want her head filled with clouds, fairy dust, or monsters.

He'd been horrified when he discovered her 2nd-grade teacher read a short story about a friendly monster named Gruff who lived under the bed in class. Poor Ms. Francis was in tears by the end of her 30-minute meeting with him the next day. Needless to say, Zoe was home schooled after that.

Her saving grace was when she met Madison — also home schooled — at a playdate a couple of years later, one arranged by the local neighborhood for home schooling families. All in the name of helping home schooled kids avoid the would-be fate of becoming social pariahs as adults.

Madison — and her parents — thought August took the whole, 'let's keep things focused on reality' too far. So, Madison would help Zoe read Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings under August's nose. And on weekends, they'd binge watch movies like Narnia all weekend — movies that'd make August furious if he ever found out. Key word: if.

Zoe's convinced the only reason he hasn't found out about those weekends of outright teenage rebellion is because Madison's parents would cover for them. God bless them.

And really, Zoe thought, all those books and movies would be nothing if August discovered her original stories. She'd been writing stories in secret since she was in 10th grade. If August would be upset over her reading a fantasy book, what would happen if he knew she wrote fantasy and supernatural fiction for fun?

"Yeah, but…" Madison said, the hesitation in her voice grabbing Zoe's immediate attention. It made her sit up straight in her chair, foreboding settling in her stomach like a weight. To others it'd seem like an overreaction, but that's because they don't know her best friend like she does. Madison doesn't do reserved and hesitant — she's bold and blunt and says what's on her mind. Her motto is screw it — if other people don't like what she has to say, that's not her problem.

"Mads, what is it?"

"Zoe, have you ever thought about the crazy stuff that happened to you — and me by proxy — growing up?"

"What kind of crazy stuff?" Zoe asked, taking a sip from her water bottle and glancing at the clock. She had 10 minutes left before her break was officially over.

"Like the Boggart incident."

Zoe's hazel-green eyes snapped back to Madison. Her thick eyebrows scrunching together in slight bewilderment. "Sometimes, but that was just us messing around. We let our imagination get away from us."

Madison tapped the table, her manicured nails sounding out a light rhythm. A rare tic that only comes out when she's really nervous or uncomfortable. "Did we though?"

"Did we what? Imagine it?" Zoe asked, checking she understood Madison's question. At her noncommittal shrug, she thought back on the night in question. She'd been sleeping over at Madison's that weekend. They were 7th graders who had eaten too much junk food and had just had a Harry Potter movie marathon. Somehow, they'd convinced themselves there was a Boggart trapped in Madison's bedroom closet. She couldn't remember all the details only that she'd been scared out of her mind, and they both had agreed to move their sleeping arrangements into the living room. The boggart was never brought up again, and she had forgotten all about it. Now, she's wondering if she somehow suppressed the memory. "What else could it have been? Boggarts aren't real."

Even so, her friend didn't look convinced, her dark eyes troubled. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Do you remember when we read the Twilight series?"

"Hey, we swore never to talk about that."

"Zoe, I'm serious!" Madison snapped, causing Zoe's eyebrows to fly up in alarm. "You said and I quote, 'Wouldn't it be amazing if werewolves like Jacob were real?"

Zoe scoffed, shaking off her discomfort. "Give me a break. I was a freshman in high school."

"Yeah, but remember shortly after, August and my parents surprised us with that camping trip. The one on the beach. Do you remember what happened?"

Zoe stared at Madison, taking in her patent you-better-be-reading-between-the-lines bitch face. This conversation was beyond bizarre, but this was also her best friend, so…

She started fiddling with the loose strand of her Always t-shirt's hem, as she tried to think back on that weekend. It was a few years ago, sometime in October or November. The leaves on the trees were changing to vibrant shades of red and orange, and August had forced her to wear that ugly thick, and lumpy sweater usually reserved for embarrassing Christmas parties.

Then it hit her — they'd met a couple of boys on the beach around their age. They had dark long hair tied back in ponytails and beautiful brown skin. There had been an irresistible air of mystery around them, and both Madison and Zoe had spent most of their time that weekend hanging out with them, talking about nothing, really, until they said goodbye.

"Are you talking about Zack and Kai?" Zoe asked, pulling their names from the recess of her memory.

Madison nodded. "Didn't you notice how they never got cold? Or, how strong they were?"

"Wait, what?" Zoe couldn't help herself. She barked out a laugh and had to quickly smother her mirth with her hand. "You think they were…" She couldn't say it. She wouldn't. There's no way those guys were werewolves.

"Yes!" Madison said.

"No, that's crazy."

"Zoe, how can you be so oblivious?"

"Did you drink too much coffee this morning? What's going on in that head of yours right now?"

Madison slapped a hand down on the table and pushed her chair out. The legs scraped loudly against the cheap linoleum floor, alerting everyone left in the break room that she was done. With this conversation. And with her. "Forget it. I'm sorry I said anything."

"No, don't be like that," Zoe said, jumping out of her chair to follow her friend out. She snatched her backpack up and dropped her empty water bottle in the recycling bin on her way out the door. A glance at the clock told her she had to get back to work anyways.

Just perfect. Exactly what she wanted to do after having a confusing — and frankly alarming — discussion with her best friend. Because writing letters to paranoid attorneys about the ins and outs of mortgage loans is her all-time favorite thing to do in life.

When Zoe caught up with Madison, she was already settling down in her assigned cubicle to get back to the daily grind. They were both writers and had an endless pile of deadlines to meet before they could even think about clocking out. She knew she needed to get back to her own stack of doom, but she needed to know what crazed thoughts were swirling around in her friend's head. Because that conversation seemed to come out of nowhere, and the things she'd brought up happened ages ago. And that left her with the uncomfortable question: How long exactly has her best friend been thinking these things and not saying anything?

She tapped Madison's shoulder and was rewarded with her friend's trademark sass service. "I'm sorry, Madison is not available right now. Leave a message at the beep. Beep."

Zoe barely resisted rolling her eyes. "Com'on, Mads. What's bothering you?"

Madison just shrugged, looking uncomfortable again. A look that did not fit her. At all. "Just…be careful what you read and watch from now on, okay? That includes what you write." Then she turned her back on Zoe, gathering papers in front of her. A clear signal the conversation was over.

Madison never brought it up again, but the strangeness of that conversation stuck with Zoe for months after…

Until Zoe discovered Doctor Who on Netflix, and she forgot all about her friend's cryptic warning against getting lost in the fantastic and paranormal worlds created by others.

That's how three weeks later on a Friday night after her first Doctor Who episode, Zoe found herself laid out on her ugly, plaid couch, an uncomfortable thing she'd bought at a garage sale. It was easy on her wallet, but not easy on her back. But she hardly noticed the lumpy cushions underneath her, not when a Dalek had just ruined the Doctor's long-awaited reunion with Rose after they'd been so cruelly separated.

Zoe had watched with bated breath as The Doctor dived in front of Rose, taking a hit from the Dalek's laser beam.

"No!" she cried out, jumping to her feet in protest, her aching back muscles a distant thought.

This was the excruciating part of any good story. The unexpected twists and turns were like pain and pleasure in sex.

She knew it was fiction, just a story a writer came up with, but The Doctor and Rose had become real people to her, even if only in her mind.

Zoe had cried so hard when Rose had become trapped in the parallel universe, but it was the Doctor and Rose's goodbye on the beach that had sent waves of heartbreak through her. He didn't even get to say I love you, too. It was too much emotional upheaval for her in one sitting, so she told herself she'd take a break from the show to come to terms with it…

But, she couldn't not watch it. She tried, but the show had called to her like nothing else ever had.

She hadn't even told Madison about her obsession with the show, not since her cryptic warning to be careful. Anytime she brought in a book to work that even hinted at magic or the supernatural, Madison would pin her with a disapproving look, but she wouldn't say anything. She's stubborn like that.

Which is why she started bringing in the classics to read during her work breaks like Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, nothing supernatural or magical happening there.

Don't get her wrong. Pride and Prejudice was good. Just not awe-inspiring and jaw dropping entertaining like…Dragon Age Origins, the RPG video game. Now there's a great story. Definitely more interesting than a romance in the regency era.

Ah, the things she sacrifices in the name of friendship.

At least, Madison wasn't avoiding her anymore. And what was up with that anyways? Her best friend — the reason she knew all about the magical wonders of entertainment in the first place (God bless her) — had switched sides and now agrees with August's mandate on what warrants safe and wholesome entertainment.

Good thing she's got her own place now. Her house, her rules, as they say. Admittedly, it'd only been a month so far since she moved out of his house and into her very own apartment, but she could watch and read whatever she wanted without worrying about August (or Madison) breathing down her neck. Even better, she could write her original stories in the open without fear of discovery — something she wouldn't dream of doing when she was still living in August's house.

She may be 23 years old, but August was downright scary when he got into lecture mode. And he never did stop seeing her as that little girl on his front porch, crushing her Mr. Knows-a-lot dragon plushy to her chest. Just trying not to cry in front of the mean Kraken lady. Not even getting her Bachelor's degree in English early could change his perception of her. It was maddening in some ways. In others, it was nice, not that she would tell him that.

No, her new place wasn't much to look at — it was just a one-bedroom apartment with bare, white walls and sparse furniture here and there, mostly collected from various garage sales all over the neighborhood — but it was all hers.

Speaking of August…

Her cell phone started buzzing on the cushion beside her with his caller-ID lighting up the screen. She'd put him in her contacts jokingly as Gandalf. All his "No, Zoe, that is not acceptable reading material" sounded an awful lot like "You shall not pass." A joke he would not find amusing whatsoever if he ever found out. He must never find out.

Her fingers hesitated over the phone, eyes glued to the television screen. The episode credits for "The Stolen Earth" had just started to roll, and the TARDIS theme music was playing softly in the background. She could answer his call, but…Netflix was asking her if she wanted to continue, and she really wanted to press play and worry about whatever August wanted tomorrow.

The phone stopped ringing, and the decision was taken off her hands. She let out a small sigh of relief, but almost immediately, her eyes snapped wide open with shock when she saw the time.

Standing out in glowing white text on her phone's display, 1:00 AM stared back at her. She wasn't sure how a phone could look so accusing, but somehow this one managed it. Or, maybe that was just her guilty conscious affecting her perception. She should be in bed asleep like the responsible adult she pretended to be, but she just couldn't bring herself to get up and start her bedtime routine.

Her eyes were drooping a little bit, now that the show was paused and her brain could start sending her a ton of melatonin to convince her sleeping was the best idea ever.

Yet, the show called to her in a way she had never felt before, not even with Harry Potter. And she'd read those books so many times, she wouldn't be surprised if the words were printed on the back of her eyelids.

Her phone started to ring again, the powerful vibration pushing the phone up against her leg as if begging for her attention. The light display showed it was August again. Calling after midnight. Twice now. Something must be very wrong.

No sooner had the thought left her, she was accepting his call and bringing the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Zoe!" His usually melodic voice sounded strained with worry, and she immediately tensed, clutching the phone tightly to her ear like a lifeline.

"August, what is it? Why are you calling so late?"

"Something's happened. Something terrible." He sounded breathless like he'd been out for a run. Something hard for her to imagine her gentle and somewhat portly father-figure doing at all, let alone in the middle of the night. "I need you to be honest with me, dear."

"What? Why?"

"There's no time to explain," August said cutting across her twenty questions. A sound of something crashing and a fierce shout in the background had her jumping to her feet, tension riddling her body. This was nothing like when she jumped up in fear for the Doctor when he'd been shot by the Dalek. In the back of her mind, she knew death wasn't really a possibility — he's the hero of the show. He's safe until the show is canceled. Just look at Supernatural! No, real-life wasn't like a show, and she didn't harbor any delusions that if August was in actual danger, he could die.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice matching the panic in his. "What's happening?"

"No time," he repeated again and grunted from an exertion she couldn't see. "Have you been reading or watching anything you shouldn't?"

Her mind stalled at the question as irritation and disbelief flared to life. Seriously? He's checking up on her entertainment choices, now of all times? She opened her mouth to let loose a practiced half-truth, planning on highlighting the fact she's been reading the classics lately…and completely neglecting her other, in his eyes, less-than-appropriate choices when August's voice cut her off. Again.

"Be honest, dear."

Her mouth dropped open. Could he read her mind or what? It was only the sound of another distant crash and his sharp — and pained — yell into the phone that had her blurting out the truth.

"I may have been watching Doctor Who."

A tense silence fell over the other side of the phone. "August?" When he didn't answer, she practically screamed into the phone. "Dad!" When the silence dragged on, she cried, "Daddy, answer me!"

"I'm here," he said, his voice sounded like he was fading. If she didn't know better, he sounded a lot like he was…dying. Then he chuckled, the sound exhausted and affectionate at once. "If the situation weren't what it was, you would so be grounded, young lady. Adult or no."

"Then I guess you better get over here to lecture me into next year," she said, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. Her knuckles turning white from gripping her phone so hard.

"If only I could, sweetling," he said softly, followed by a long sigh that turned into a hacking cough. "I know you have been frustrated with my rules, but they existed to keep you safe. And now you've discovered the one show I wish you hadn't."

"I-I couldn't not watch it," she said, knowing her excuse was weak. "I tried at first to ignore it, but…"

"It called to you like a siren. Yes, I know."

"You know?"

"There's so much you don't know, Zoe. The rules were there for your protection, to keep you safe."

"But I —"

"Darling, please listen."

Zoe shut her mouth, feeling like she swallowed back acid.

"You must listen to me," he said and then coughed violently into the phone. She listened to his coughs, desperate and choking sounds, and she knew deep down he wasn't sick. He was dying somewhere out of her reach. When his coughs subsided, he sounded hoarse. "It is vital you follow my instructions. You won't understand why, but do as I say."

"Okay," she mumbled, feeling out of depth and numb.

"Promise me."

"I promise," she whispered.

"Watch your Doctor Who and fall asleep to it. Think about the Doctor and his world. Imagine what it would be like to be in his world. Let yourself feel it in your very being."

Despite the circumstances, she felt her brain short-circuit, because there's no way he was telling her what it sounded like he was saying. "You're actually telling me to watch Doctor Who?"

"Yes!"

"A sci-fi and supernatural show with aliens and robots and time-traveling?"

"Yes," he said again, though there was a hint of dry amusement in his tone.

"But, what about you? You're hurt, dying even, I can tell! How can you expect me to watch a TV show when you're…" She stopped, unable to say what she believed what was happening to him.

"You must!" he said, his urgency making his voice sounded stronger. If he could, she thought he'd reach through the phone to grab her for emphasis. It didn't escape her notice that he hadn't denied he was dying. "Forget about me, dear. I am old, and you are young, much younger than you realize."

She sat down on the edge of her lumpy couch, feeling like 50-pound weights had dropped into her stomach. "I can't just forget you," she whispered. "I know we never really talked about it, but...you're my dad."

"And you are my daughter," he sighed, a long, hazardous breath that seemed to rattle his lungs, "no matter what anyone says."

Then the phone disconnected, and she was left alone in painful silence that rang in her ears. She felt the phone drop out of her hands, clattering to the floor, then numbness started to settle in. Her mind working hard to shield her from her sudden harsh reality.

Because if what she thinks happened, just happened, that means that's the last time she would ever hear August's voice. Ever hear him…

She stopped that thought in its tracks and raised a shaky hand to push her dark wavy hair out of her face. She felt her heartbreak and sudden aching loneliness try to crawl up her throat in a desperate sob. She forcefully cut it off before a sound could escape her.

She needed to not think for a while. Needed it like she needed air in her lungs. There were too many unknown variables. What happened to him? Why did he call her and not 911? And why, why would he ask her to watch Doctor Who, the epitome of everything he seemed to be against growing up? Why wouldn't he let her go to him?

Her gaze flicked to her TV, desperate for escape from her thoughts. Red light pouring from the screen, as Netflix asked in bright white letters, a gentle reminder of her father's dying wishes, Are you still watching Doctor Who?

He was right. She didn't understand. She should be running to him, wherever he is. Calling 911. Anything, but what she actually does do…

Almost mechanically, she settled back onto her cheap couch, grabbing the soft, tan blanket August had given her as a housewarming gift. It didn't smell like him. It didn't even smell like her. It was just a blanket he bought at the store for her and thought she'd like, but suddenly that blanket seemed like her whole world was wrapped up in it. So, she wrapped herself up in it before raising the Roku remote and hitting play.

She couldn't shake how wrong it felt sitting there, getting ready to watch a TV show when her father was most likely dying or already dead. I promised him, she reminded herself forcefully.

But then the show began, and she felt the Doctor gently set aside her worries and fears for Aug-her father one by one with the warble of his sonic screwdriver, the wheeze of his TARDIS, and his confident command to run.

She focused with everything she had in her on the Doctor, who he is, and what he stood for. Pondered over the way the show seemed to resonate with her almost on a molecular level.

Before tonight, she'd get lost in the story and its characters even when she wasn't watching an episode. Her mind had been wrapped up in the Doctor and all the aliens he met — the ones he saved and the ones he didn't. She'd gotten caught daydreaming about the Doctor and his timey-whimey, nonsensical adventures at work a couple times. Something bound to get her in trouble at work deeper than she could climb out of. She'd have to call her job, she realized, let them know she wouldn't be coming in, because…

Don't think about it!

She forced her attention back on the show, just like Aug-her father asked her to. Something she would have done without being asked if it weren't for the night's grievous circumstances.

She watched as Donna fought with Rose, Martha, and Jack and hoped Rose would get to stay with the Doctor after everything was said and done.

It was as she lay there, absorbing the Doctor's newest confrontation with an army of Daleks that it hit her why the Doctor was so appealing. Adventure and mayhem followed him everywhere, and yet there was order in that chaos. It was enough to make her head spin with all the possibilities.

And it was the possibilities that stirred her gut with a yearning she didn't fully understand. Her need to watch the show reminded her of Stephen King's the gotta. The 'I gotta know what happens next or else.' Except it had less to do with a need to know what happens next in the story and more to do with The Doctor himself and the world he lived in.

As early morning light rays began to spill through her window blinds, she began losing the battle with her heavy eyelids. The Doctor had just left Rose on the beach with his human duplicate after watching them kiss. A heart-crushing scene, but she had no more room in her broken heart to feel more, still feeling numb from Aug-her father's call.

Her last thought before sleep finally claimed her was how much she wished she could be a part of the Doctor's world — and that her father would be there with her.

Author's Note:

It's been a while since I watched Doctor Who after Rose fights her way back to her original universe, so if I messed up the order of episodes referenced by Zoe, feel free to let me know.

As for how realistic it is for her to get through as much of the show's content as she supposedly does...

Well, let's pretend for this story's sake that all the drama with the Daleks, Rose's return, and her being dropped off with the Doctor's duplicate occurred in a few short episodes.