He grimaced, looking at his companion that ripped open the TARDIS just to get back to him and was burning her mind with the Time energy flowing through her mind. He had to take it out, somehow, but... He was shoved aside as a stranger that wasn't there before puts her hands on the sides of Rose's head, Time energy transferring to the stranger instead. She turns around, glancing at the man who she wouldn't have thought to save had she not miscalculated her vortex manipulator's jump. He was planning on absorbing it! Seriously, how unsafe is that?
"You owe me, but I'll collect later. For now, I gotta get going before the Time Agent's catch up and imprison me." She jumped again, this time landing exactly where she wanted to be; 21st century New York. She seriously miscalculated. She shrugged, it was her second time using it, sue her. The Doctor watched in awe as time particles appeared and flew back into the TARDIS.
That woman just absorbed something that should've killed her, but she seemed fine, not even a glow in her eyes or golden sparks leaving when she breathed. Was she a...? The Doctor shoved the thought aside, picking Rose up and taking her into the TARDIS. They had many adventures to have as of yet.
"I don't wanna go," he whispered alone in the TARDIS. He jerked as he felt the radiation leave him, healing him up right well. He spun in surprise, seeing the girl who saved him glowing golden.
"Again, you owe me, and I wouldn't have saved you had the TARDIS hadn't abducted me when I passed by." She said, stumbling a bit as the energy slowly retreats. The Doctor perked up, wanting to ask her questions before she left again.
"Wait! How did you survive the - the time energy? Are you a Time Lady?" He stuttered, stumbling over his own words. She paused from where she was fiddling with her vortex manipulator, glancing up before looking back down.
"I'm a creature of the Void, or *was*. I spent some time as a Weeping Angel too, and being a reaper wasn't really my thing, so here I am. Mostly human, part void, part avian. Time energy is like electricity, and I'm rubber. I absorb it and not much else happens. You met me, too! I was Angel Bob. You were quite funny until you erased me from existence for a while." She mutters begrudgingly, finally seeming to enter the right coordinates and pressing the button, leaving the Doctor alone and full of questions.
She appears once more when he's about to regenerate again, and makes him look younger, his entirely new regeneration cycle put on hold until he needs to regenerate again. He looked at her, only remembering that he wanted to say one thing. "Angel Bob, you are one hell of a Fugitive. I looked you up, and you've been avoiding authorities for *millennia*. Why do you help me so often?" He asked, and she stared. She chuckled, forgetting that she was Angel Bob at one point in a now non-existent time. That had been over two thousand years ago, and she's only seen him about a thousand years ago, when she was helping him for the second time.
"Often? I've met you thrice in the millennia I've been running. Once in the beginning, once a thousand years ago, and now." She shook her head, glancing up to him. "I'm just forcing you to owe me your life so that one day I can cash in and get a huge favor done. Cya!" And she vanished, never being seen again.
Some say she died, others that she just did too well, most that she was just a myth. Truth was, she got shot and she regenerated, and grew old as a human, a forgotten watch on her mantel place. Until Death came knocking on her door, and opened the watch for her before taking her to another dimension. She had given him good entertainment, and so many more souls, he wasn't getting rid of her any time soon. And she was reborn, into the world of another Doctor, older than time itself. She didn't mind, and got to work fucking that universe up too.
The Doctor was in 1913? Since when? She's never seen him on Earth, not in her 90-trillion year existence jumping through universes entertaining Death. Of course, four of the five universes didn't have the Doctor in it, excluding the one she was in and the one she was born in. She hadn't even been here a decade yet, so she didn't count it. Then again, she's seen him a solid four times in the last universe. Wait- if the Doctor was there... And he has a TARDIS... With a library, as all TARDIS come with...
She almost whimpered when she felt how weak she was, how easily the man behind her could snap her in half. Her opinion of him immediately dropped. How dare he make her, his elder, feel weak? He should be offering to carry her bags across the street for her!
"Where are you running off to, Alex?" He murmured calmly, like he was talking to a scared puppy. How'd he get her name given to her by the caretaker? She was outraged before she realized that her caretaker was explaining that Alex often got lost in thought and ran like the Devil were on her heels when she wasn't talking to someone or thinking. She returned to pouting at her caretaker.
"Lemme go, so I can go!" She said, struggling against the man's grip. There was no way he was the Doctor, but she wanted to check for the TARDIS just in case.
Her caretaker scowled at her. "Go *where*? Honestly, I should take you to an asylum with how odd you are."
Alex stuck her tongue out. "Just go! Adventures await me, books calling, bad guys to give second chances to, good guys to blame for the deaths they couldn't prevent!" Alex said forcibly, still squirming in the man's grip. He was awfully strong for being a twig with limbs.
"Sounds interesting, may I come along?" The man asked, and Alex froze. What if she *did* find the TARDIS? Then the man who *wasn't* the Doctor might get the attention of anyone or thing who was dangerous enough for the Doctor to hide from... Alex scowled up at the smiling man.
"You better be able to run fast, mister! I can't be your knight in shining armor if you're slow." She demanded, gripping his hand and running off with him.
"I'll keep an eye on the young'un, madam!" He called behind him, Alex's short legs making her only slightly difficult to catch up with.
"Bring her home before Sunday!" Was the only reply he got before he was dragged out of hearing range.
"Sunday? That's four days away!" He exclaimed in disbelief, only for the thought to leave him as he was almost smacked in the face by a branch.
Alex decided to take him to her home first. He couldn't just get away with thinking her caretaker was unfit to take care of her! She *was* unfit, but that was a good thing to the 90-trillion-and-seventy-two-year-old nine year old.
After a few minutes of non-stop running, she took a sharp right and slowed after another minute, the not-Doctor panting as if he accidentally messed up his breathing cycle while running. Which, he probably had. From what she heard the Doctor was used to babbling while running, and the man said nothing the entire time. Alex hadn't lost her breath, focused solely on getting to her makeshift home and breathing.
"W-what is this place?" The man asked between pants. Alex strode forward quickly, going the same pace as an adult walking their own pace. Which, for a child, was fast.
The man looked around. It was a small clearing, small enough to hold only ten grown men comfortably, with a small building taking up most of that space, going at least three stories up, to his amazement. It looked like a nice home for one, and the decorations made him think that whoever lived there must be extremely rich. His eyes widened in alarm as Alex walked up, and he ran towards the errant child.
"Wait! Don't go in there!" He called, only to be ignored. When he caught up to her he was shocked that she unlocked the door with the key hanging around her neck, some twine holding it up.
"It's cool, isn't it? I had some help with the doors and locks and paint by the caretaker, but I made it myself!" She told him, gesturing to the crudely polished wood and clay constructions laying about. "This floor is where I make stuff, and I sleep on the second floor, where all the homey stuff is, and my finished but not yet installed things are kept on the third floor. The roof is made of fired clay, leaves, sticks, and planks. It's been complete for a few months, and I've been working on it since I was five!" She exclaimed, excited to show her accomplishments to *someone*.
90 trillion years and no one has ever bothered acknowledging her feats of awesomeness. She didn't accomplish anything in her first life besides gaining Death's gaze, so she didn't bother counting that.
The man looked around, amazed. "You *made* this? Does it have plumbing? Wait, no, of course it doesn't." He muttered to himself. Alex hummed, deciding not to show him the make-do plumbing she set up. She supposed constantly being undercover last life made her pretty set in the early 1910's. Plumbing, carpentry, architecture, engineering, blacksmithing... She could quite a bit of cash just doing that. Though her plumbing was a bit rudimentary, reusing the same water, filtering things through multiple times so the water was as clean as rainwater could be... She didn't know much else besides how to create and use water pressure.
"You're rather brilliant for your age, and to think your matron doesn't want you to go to school to learn more..." He trailed off as he saw the makeshift books Alex made when she got sick of not being able to write anything. The one's filled with blueprints and ideas and memories were on the second floor, these ones were drying from just being put together.
"Not really. I'm told I'm average for my age, maybe a bit behind." Alex commented casually, not really paying any attention as she got a stone knife and started carving a block of wood. 90 trillion and she doesn't know everything, so yeah, just a bit behind. A bit. She didn't notice the man stare at her, as, in the next moment, she stood up and ran for the door, picking up two swords that were lying by the door.
"Come on, sir! Let's go adventuring like I promised! Beware of the scarecrows! They kill," she called. He goes after her, catching the sword thrown at him. His eyes widened when he saw how sharp the sword was. It could cut through a grown tree easily!
He came back day after day and had 'adventures' each day. He was terrified during most of them, but she helped him get used to it. He was always curious as to what she was looking for, since she always seemed to leave him behind at the wrong moments to check on something, but she never told him.
-He based. No actual mind reading, too easy OP. Day three: Friday, he returns to the school and comes back to her building. Day four: he has off, and he goes and tried learning from her. Day five: he doesn't show up day six: dunno. Rewatch the episode when this appears and guesstimate a good idea. Month two: family appears, more fighting off scarecrows.
-One day he spent hours looking for her after she vanished, only for her to appear and say that she found it with a glimmer in her eyes. She didn't answer him, obviously. It confirmed her suspicions that John was the Doctor minus a few memories and a heart.
-They quickly became friends, even after John found out she was a girl and not a little boy who should be in school. He admitted later that he cock blocked himself to hang out with her and learn more.
**"Idea: elongate to make an excellent few chapters. "John Smith Arc" since a few months goes a long ways.**
***Idea: he finds out he's the Doctor and accepts it, but wants to stay human(duh) after mentioning his dreams to her**
***Idea: she gets a headpiece and learns all there is to learn about everything that the humans know. Death later removes the headpiece**
***Idea: she's given the fob watch**
***Idea: she has her own fob watch "as a tribute to her last life"**
***Bad Idea: DoctorxFugitive**
"Run!" The Fugitive yelled, pulling him along as fast as she could tug him along. They were called Vashta Nerada, according to her. Shadows that eat you alive, she told him, and he believed her. It may have been only an hour since they met the day after they met the first time, he fully trusted her. To see her so scared made him push himself as fast as he could go. He was shocked when they went faster than he ever thought he could go, the Fugitive still having to slow down because of him though.
"There aren't many! They'll all be full on a rabbit or two and leave us alone! You have to run silently!" She called back, and he panted as he tried his best. They slowed significantly, but suddenly he could hear quite a bit more. The only loud noises coming from him. Suddenly she jolted him to the side, and they were running in a new direction, passing an angered boar on the way. "No! Piggy!" She pleaded, in tears as the shadows literally consumed the boar. They stopped, the shadows no longer finding need to chase them. He lifted her off her feet, setting her on his hip as he tried comforting her.
She buried her face in his neck, letting herself mourn for the boar she had named Piggy when she first met it six years ago. Six years of friendship, gone. It hurt, and for once, instead of running, she let herself feel it. Then she couldn't take it anymore, and shoved it away with the rest of the deaths haunting her. Most of which she caused on purpose, to entertain Death himself.
He watched the nine year old mourn, for once acting her age as she curled into him. He slowly carried them to where he thought her home was, since he knew they were running in the opposite direction of civilization to try and lure it deeper into the forest.
After a few hours of walking, he entirely by chance stumbled back into the small clearing where the Fugitive basically lived. Wearily he pulled the key off of the Fugitive's neck, making sure not to wake her as he opened the door and locked it behind him. It was beyond dark by that time, and there was no way he was traversing the woods alone at night with the Vashta Nerada out there. He placed her into her bed, only slightly surprised when she pulled him into the bed too.
"I only have one bed, so if you ever want to sleep over, or happen to be there while I'm sleeping, don't be worried when I decide to use you as a teddy bear. There's nowhere else for you to sleep anyway." She said, shrugging at his surprised glance.
"It's fine, John. Even as mature as I am, if I feel something warm and unthreatening by my bedside that I can hug, I'm one hundred percent going for that shite." She further explained. She then stood up.
"Well, let's go. Something's been leaving their meal's remains in the forest, and it's been steadily getting closer to civilization. Something tells me that the thing doing it would be anything but friendly towards humans."
And that was that. He regretted that the situation happened as soon as it did, she said that only five or so hours prior. He was an idiot to think that she'd say that before explaining their next adventure without reason. Her reason was the mission. She probably knew it'd take a while, and that he wouldn't want to leave the safety of her house when they got back and it got dark out. He groaned as quietly as he could in his past self's idiocy, wincing when a nine year old foot wedged into his pant-pocket. She was entirely using him as a mattress now, curled up on his left side.
John felt like an abused teddy-bear, and figured the nine year old really shouldn't be so comfortable with him. He could be a serial killer. Or a slavery leader. Or a… He paused when the nine year old tugged sharply on his ear.
"Shut up, you're thinking too loud," She murmured. He wondered how that could happen and how he woke her up, but was once again interrupted by her muttered words, "Literally. I can physically hear your thoughts. Just stop thinking, please," She groaned, softly patting his forehead. And he did, deciding to just stare blankly up at the ceiling. Of course the kid could read minds. Why shouldn't she be able to? She's the Fugitive. He whispered sarcastically in his mind.
She mentally groaned, not having the energy to tell him that that was sarcasm. The idiot probably thought she was being literal.
She was reading, having finally found the TARDIS. She walked out of the shed and into the cottage, no one noticing her as she closed the door.
"You knew this all along and yet you watched while Nurse Redfern and I..." John Smith trailed off, looking lost.
"I didn't know how to stop you. He gave me a list of things to watch out for but that wasn't included," a dark skinned woman replied, seeming desperate. The Fugitive noticed another woman looking in the journal by moonlight through the window.
"Falling in love? That didn't even occur to him?" John Smith asked, incredulous. The Fugitive coughed, gaining attention as she snapped the book shut.
"John, if you were 80 years old and had loved and lost over twenty of your loves platonic or romantic due to war, or enemies... If you were that old, and had your heart broken numerous times, and all of a sudden needed to forget everything to save the world, would you think of romance? Or would you be more focused on saving people, and not eating pears?" She cut in. The black woman looked shocked at the Fugitive's appearance.
"Where did you come from?" She asked, only getting a general wave at the unlocked door as an answer.
"The Doctor doesn't want me to eat pears?" John asked, stuck on that point. He knew that the Fugitive made an excellent point, besides the pears. Who doesn't like pears, besides the Fugitive? The Fugitive didn't like bananas or pizza either, so he was used to the Fugitive not liking excellent foods.
"No."
"Then what sort of man is that? And now you expect me to die?" The black woman looked sad but determined.
"It was always going to end, though! The Doctor said the Family's got a limited lifespan, and that's why they need to consume a Time Lord. Otherwise, three months and they die. Like mayflies, he said."
"So your job was to execute me."
"No, you - you'll still be alive. He won't remember," the Fugitive lied, "but other than that you're still just a part of him. He's *you*, but more." The Fugitive finished, only lying about the remembering part.
"People are dying out there. They need him and I need him. Because you've got no idea of what he's like. I've only just met him. It wasn't even that long ago. But he is everything. He's just everything to me and he doesn't even look at me, but I don't care, because I love him to bits. And I hope to God he won't remember me saying this." A explosion shook the room, having fallen close by.
"It's getting closer." A teenager that the Fugitive didn't deem important said. He was cute though. Would make a good Harry Potter, if he were alive when they needed an actor for the role.
"I should have thought of it before. I can give them this. Just the watch. Then they can leave and I can stay as I am." The Fugitive watched in disappointment as John said that.
"You can't do that!"
"If they want the Doctor, they can have him."
"He'll never let you do it."
"If they get what they want, then, then..." They all watched his shoulders slump as his desperation and logic warred against each other.
"Oh. Well, if you want to stay human, John... I could always just save the day. You'd, obviously, be with me while I do so, being my companion and all, but it could happen." The Fugitive said.
"Then it all ends in destruction. I never read to the end, but those creatures would live forever to breed and conquer, for war across the stars for every child. Martha, Timothy, other girl, would you leave us alone, please?" The woman that was quiet for the most part spoke up. The Fugitive rolled her eyes.
"Wow, rude." She muttered as she walked the ways back into the TARDIS and leaned against the bar, waiting for it to be over. It was over sooner than she thought, and soon the Doctor and Martha, as that other woman called her, walked in.
"The Fugitive, right? Oh, you're so young! I haven't seen you this young since... Ever! You saved me, too! Multiple times! Wow, you were *much* nicer as a kid!" The Doctor ranted. The Fugitive rolled her eyes.
"Doctor, shut it. We both know I've saved you more times than that. Plus, I genuinely liked John Smith," she sniped, in a terrible mood after her favorite human became no longer human.
"I, wow, I tutored you! To think, I taught you something you... Didn't care about," he grumbled when he saw her amused look. She handed him the book she borrowed from the TARDIS. His eyes turned sad, but hopeful.
"Come with us. Please. We can go anywhere, anywhen. You know she likes you, please." He said. She hesitated. A life of adventure, one where instead of causing death and destruction she could save people, entertain Death in an entirely new way... And inevitably have Death lose interest when she became just another companion.
"Tell me, Doctor. Have you seen me die, yet?" At his grim silence she walked out, the TARDIS dematerializing behind her. He hadn't, and he wouldn't. She, who only wished to die, him, who ran from the hauntings of Death. They'd never be able to be together. Not as companions, not as two travelers, no. Not that version of him.
"So, Timothy. You tell me, should I utterly destroy the countries causing World War One, or should I let it run its course?" She asked, watching as Timothy truly thought it over.
"Let it run its course. You'd destroy the entire world, if the title for the War is anywhere near true." The Fugitive nodded, understanding his words.
"Then I'll spend the next century learning all I can and improving my skills until I master anything that fancies my tastes at the moment." She muttered to herself.
"Tch, what's he doing? He's a kid! He doesn't even know what he's reading, let alone how to survive on his own. He probably just runs away for a few days before getting hungry and crawling back," Baines said. The Fugitive looked up.
"I'm reading a Physics book, and I've built a house, bought property, own a farm, and frequently sell alcohol to you and your friends under codename Fugitive. Do you really think that I crawl back to the orphanage? I end up providing food for the orphanages during certain times, Baines." The Fugitive snapped, and John looked at Baines.
"I thought you said that you were planning on saving that for when you were seventy!" John scolded, "Not sell it to school boys! Baines, is this true? Do you buy alcohol from the Fugitive?"
Baines' face was extremely pale as he lied through his teeth. "No, sir, I've never heard of the Fugitive, let alone bought alcohol from him." The Fugitive smirked, before sighing.
"Yeah, I just made that last bit up," The Fugitive lied, mouthing "you owe me" to Baines before continuing, "But I have accomplished everything else. Please don't lower my intelligence levels by breathing near me, kid." The Fugitive observed as Baines bit his tongue to stop himself from retorting. He didn't know a kid was the alcohol provider, and that the kid was smarter than him and his buddies combined! It was another Latimer! Except more… sly. None of them knew the headmaster was listening in at another table.
"There's no way you actually understand that Physics book, Alex." Baines claimed. The Fugitive hummed, shrugging as she continued reading.
"While I don't yet understand the entirety of Physics, having just started the book, this is rather simplistic language. Atoms, matter, inertia, gravity, velocity, momentum, etcetera. I know what each of those are and what each of those means. Do you, Baines?" The Fugitive asked plainly, watching Baines scowl at her. She understood. It was never fun to have someone smarter than you and more cunning than you in the same room.
"I refuse to believe that you know what all of those means. You're a kid! Ten at most!" Baines argued.
"Atoms are what makes up everything. Matter is everything that is, whether it be air or stars or us. Inertia is something at its natural state of rest or uniform motion, I believe. Gravity is what keeps me from being able to jump from the ground to the top of this building, though I'm still working on doing that- that'd be cool. Velocity is speed of movement in one direction, I think, maybe it's just movement in general? And momentum is why you go flying if your bike suddenly stops. It's all the energy put in one thing going in a certain direction. I like using it to jump around." The Fugitive explained calmly, shrugging at the one's she didn't quite know.
"That's correct. And if those accomplishments you said are true... How old are you again?" A voice cut in, and they all looked towards the one who spoke. It was the headmaster of the school, and the Fugitive shrugged.
"I'm nine, I think. I never really knew my birthday so I chose spring." The Fugitive stated, irritated that her reading was still being interrupted.
"Are you really the Fugitive? From Fugitive Corporations?" The headmaster asked, and the Fugitive nodded, confused.
"Yeah, why? I use it in company name even though I'm only one person, but yeah. I am Fugitive Corporations. I make money off of selling some food and trinkets and stuff." The Fugitive explained at John's confused glance towards her.
"Is there any proof you can give?" The headmaster asked, and she shrugged, digging around her pockets for the unfinished fire trinket.
"Yeah, here," She hands over the unpainted trinket, "It's unfinished as of yet, but I was in town yesterday buying some paints and stuff so I can finish it in a few minutes if you want to buy it off of me for a shilling or two."
It was ridiculously overcharged, but they all could easily afford to buy it if they wanted it. They were all rich there. The headmaster checked and double checked, even triple checking before handing it back.
"You're well known around these areas for your paint job, so go right ahead boy. I'll add in another shilling if it's excellent." The headmaster agreed. The Fugitive glanced at John before shrugging.
"This has sentimental value, so of course I'll do it well, sir." She said, jumping off the table and stumbling for a moment, having forgotten her injuries before jogging to a room she passed earlier. It was rather bare, and didn't have much that could be ruined by paint.
"Is there any brushes, or do I have to go get my own? That'd add another few minutes to the creation of this piece." The Fugitive asked, and was supplied with some rather high-quality shoddy brushes. She scowled at them. It would do. She put in all her anger and burning hatred and memories of all the fires she's ever seen or felt or created. She was done a few minutes later, like she said she'd be, and walked it over to the headmaster. While she walked with it in her hand, while it was still drying, it looked like a true flame, flickering with the light peeking through the windows. It was her best work yet, mainly because it was the only one she actually tried at. Most were made out of boredom or trying to calm down, not out of her implicit need to put all her anger into a single trinket.
"Oh, come now, you didn't have to set the Fugitive's work on fire when you messed up the paint job!" The headmaster scolded, "If you didn't want to admit that you weren't the Fugitive you could have just told us so. His work… All undone," He ended. The Fugitive shrugged, setting the painted sculpture down.
"You'll have to give it a few hours to dry, but I can assure you, sir, that's actually a painted sculpture with my marking on the bottom and everything. Don't. Touch it until the sun goes down. We need to be careful, because it's my best work as of yet and if you mess it up in impatience I'm demanding a Euro for it instead," the Fugitive snapped, still in a bad mood from forcing all of her heated emotions at painting the fire. That's how she did her painting. Pushing all her emotions into her brushstroke, the perfect meditation for her.
"The fire is frozen… It's not an actual fire," John stuttered, and the Fugitive rolled her eyes at him.
"Noooooo," She said, sarcasm so heavily layed on that not even the remains of the Titanic were as drenched as that one word. She wasn't a morning person. It was morning. John looked at her in shock, before looking again in dubious curiosity.
"Are you, the nine year old genius, cranky like a toddler?" He asked, voice rising in disbelief. She scowled at him darkly. She was beaten and bruised all over, had two black eyes, a massive headache, and two hours before she woke up on a normal day, and he had the right to call her like a toddler? Her face smoothed over, and she smiled sweetly. The two men had forgotten what that smile on a pissed woman's face looked like, but Baines knew that smile a bit too well from his mother.
"Oh, uh, I've got to go, had a meeting planned with Latimer, er, Tim, and I can't be late." Baines stuttered, running from the room. He was expecting a massive outburst, but that's not what the Fugitive was known for, no. She was cool, collected, and tried not to think of ways to gently steer them to their early demise.
"No. I'm okay," She said brightly, going back to her book. They could both go and shove their… in unsavory places. In each other, for all she cared.
She scowled as she glared after the leather-clad asshole who bumped into her.
"Hey asshole! Come back here and apologise!" She yelled, and the leather-clad man didn't stop.
"Saving the world! I'm busy!" He called over his shoulder and she found the moment to tackle him too good.
"Yeah, okay asshole. Even if you were I'd never let you." She snapped, struggling with him to try and keep him from saving the world. Death had been about to move her to another universe, and she rather liked this universe, thanks.
"What? Why not? Stop- ah! Nn," And the woman barely up to his chest managed to overpower him and pin him down, slamming his head into the cement in the process. He glowered at her and she smirked back, not relaxing for a moment.
"Because I'm the Fugitive. And I bring Death and Destruction everywhere. Or... I will, eventually." She replied, pouting. She still hadn't managed to get off of Earth. None of the parts for a Vortex Manipulator existed until 2047. It was 2005.
"What? That's not what you're known for," the leather-clad asshole said, confused.
"Oh god how did I manage to fuck up my one job *this* time?" I groaned, slumping and slamming my head into his shoulder.
"Oi! Put your hands in the air! You're under arrest!"
"Hello! Hello? Fugitive! Are you there? It's me, the Doctor! Can I come in?" He called, and the Fugitive looked up. Oh, he's back. 65 years later and he's back.
"It took you sixty five years! I bet it wasn't even your choice to visit, you bastard! I still miss John!" She called back, clicking a button. The door slammed wide open for the damned man. He gaped at her. She was just… She looked in her twenties!
"What? The Fugitive… you're…" The Doctor said, and the Fugitive sighed heavily. He didn't believe her when she said she'd always be there if he needed her. Always. As in, never died. Shitty, that.
"Young? I know. Fuck man. What happened? Why're you in need of your semi-immortal friend?" The Fugitive asked, brushing herself off as the Doctor and Martha walked in. Martha gaped at the scowling twenty-something chick.
"Oh, um. I'm in need of a place to stay for a while. I'm trying to figure out a way to get back, but I'm coming up with nothing… I don't even have a nice little note or anything." He mutters, disappointed. The Fugitive hummed.
"No TARDIS? Is it stuck in the future?" She asked. The Doctor and Martha nodded and she glanced at the time.
"1 in the morning, 1969. Today. This month. Gotcha. That was what that noise was. I woke myself up at 1 in the morning. I'm an asshole." She muttered, gripping at the Doctor. She hugged him, tears coming to her eyes.
"I'm alone and aging, and you can't even take me with you? Rude, how I set this up. Well, not aging, but I'm alone and other's age… Which sucks, for me. For us. Doctor, do you recall the year, day, time, and place you left your TARDIS? I can just wait it out and retrieve it for you. Already have, technically." She asked, letting her age-addled mind jump around. The Doctor and Martha looked at her, confused. The Fugitive rolled her eyes.
"Doctor. I don't age. Your box is stuck in the future." She tries explaining. The Doctor stares at her blankly, Martha staring blankly at her as well. The Fugitive waits just a moment before sighing heavily. She requested the time and place, and this time he told her. She then proceeded to guide them out to their TARDIS.
"What? How'd it get here? That's…. Oh." He said, suddenly understanding. He jumps up and runs around, talking a mile a minute excitedly, turning and grinning at her. His grin fades at her weak, sad smile.
"You'll come back for me, right? Just before you leave for good… I'm bored, here on Earth. There's always more to learn, yeah, but I can't exactly jump around like a squirrel on steroids when I'm going the slow path…" She requested, and he looked at her seriously. He thought about it, and then he grinned eagerly. Her heart hurt.
"Stop," She demanded before he spewed out lies. Her heart hurt enough, but she was surprised when his grin stayed.
"There's another immortal! His name is Jack Harkness, and I'm sure you two will get along fine! I'm not sure when he is, but I know that he is." The Doctor called, and she nodded.
The Fugitive felt a warmth engulf her as another person latched onto the exterior of the dematerializing TARDIS. She grinned.
"Ah! So you must be this Jack Harkness person he spoke of, if he's not letting you join either!" She called just before the man behind her died. She sighed. Maybe not the immortal she was looking for, then.
The Fugitive gaped at the asshole that breathed himself back to life.
"Oh, that is so not fair! You get to die before waking back up!" The Fugitive smacked his shoulder. He looked at her, confused. She grinned at him.
"Hello, I'm the Fugitive. Immortal. You're Jack Harkness, right?" She formally introduced herself and he grinned at her.
"Captain Jack Harkness. Nice to meet you," He flirts, as seems to be his natural state. She grinned back.
"Oh don't start," The Doctor groaned, only to yelp as his feet are swept out from under him, "Ouch! What was that for?"
"You forced me through the Time Vortex, you asshole!" The Fugitive kicked the Doctor once more, "You get no say on how Jackie boy here exists, bastard," She muttered, before grinning at Jack again.
"So, now that our trouble is out of the way. We're both immortal, and we both are after the Doctor for one reason or another, seems like we have a lot in common already." The Fugitive flirts, as was her normal state after puberty hit her. Jack grinned at her, and they knew they'd be the best of friends. You don't fuck with forever, and they both just got their hands on some forever.