Morgan often wondered if she would ever know normalcy. Or if she ever had in the first place. How did one even define "normal", and where was the line drawn? It seemed so abstract and haphazard.

The line between normal and abnormal was blurring more with each passing day.

Yet somehow, Morgan was finally starting to settle into some sort of new routine, a new normal. Aside from some questionable encounters with Clara on some Wednesdays, everything seemed to be running smoothly.

For at least the past three weeks, she hadn't noticed anything odd or out of place. She would wake up, go to school, then come back and do her homework and watch tv or other normal activities. She almost felt like she could let her guard down as if maybe, her life would continue with this stability.

Maybe she could go on and continue normally. Maybe she never did have to worry about what would have happened if she had met the doctor. Or if she did in the future. Or if he even existed.

Maybe it didn't matter.

Or maybe, Morgan was still stuck in the first stage of grief.

Denial.

Unfortunately, that denial could simply not extend to what was going on with Clara. That was simply too off-putting to ignore.

Logically, from the evidence that Morgan had collected, most Wednesdays, everything Clara did was off-putting. Some days it was an unexplained outfit change, and others Morgan would notice something moving behind a door. Sometimes only a paper out of place, and others, Clara would show up a few minutes after disappearing, her hair soaked through, exhaustion evident in the way she held herself. Or rather, in the way she didn't.

Morgan couldn't help but connect it to the show. When, coincidentally, the Doctor always visited Clara on a specific day.

Wednesday.

But could she really rely on information she had gotten from a show? Just because Clara and Danny were both here, didn't necessarily mean that the Doctor was here too.

Although the evidence to support that theory was building up significantly….

Morgan slammed her locker door at that, silencing her stray thoughts. The sudden crash startled a few students near her, a few sending her concerned or scathing glances. Yet as quickly as they had been startled, they continued about their day. Sighing, Morgan began methodically re-organizing her locker.

Right now, she needed to focus on her schoolwork. She needed to focus on her new life and she needed to focus on the things that mattered in the here and now.

Or rather the things that weren't wild delusional fantasies.

If there were infinite universes out there, there must be at least one where Clara and Danny existed, but the Doctor did not. It was at least a plausible supporting theory of her denial of the alternative.

Yet here Morgan was, ranking some of her theories as wild fantasies when in reality they were likely equally absurd. She was already thinking about parallel universes as fact and not a hypothesis. Morgan really was pulling at strings here with what she was considering 'crazy' and what she was considering normal.

Yet here she was again, delving deeper into a rabbit hole she wanted no part of.

At least that's what Morgan kept telling herself.

It was getting more and more difficult to believe that.

Shaking her head to ward off all of the anxiety-inducing thoughts, Morgan started down the hallway. She didn't really have a particular direction in mind, Morgan mostly just needed to move. She weaved through the students, melting into the background. She wasn't quite sure whether the background chorus of voices was comforting or like hundreds of daggers digging into her skin from all directions.

For once maybe she could stop thinking of what could be, and why she was here. Maybe Morgan needed to simply think of herself as a simple student.

Just a student.

It was a strangely comforting thought.

Yet at the same time, it stung like ice. Frigid, telling Morgan that she would never amount to anything more than just a student. More than just an average ordinary speck in a sea of extraordinary individuals. Perhaps that was her greatest fear; Never amounting to anything significant, never standing out from the collective.

Perhaps it was ironic then, that she was so afraid of being seen, of being acknowledged.

Perhaps that was always why she was so afraid of her suspicions being correct. Because why should she have the opportunity to travel with the Doctor, even if that opportunity was simply existing in a universe where that was a possibility? Why should she have that opportunity and no one else? There were so many extraordinary individuals hundreds of times more talented, kind, and useful than her.

Yet despite knowing she did not deserve this, Morgan still selfishly wanted it.

Which was why the Doctor couldn't exist, and if he did, Morgan needed to remain blissfully ignorant of this fact. And maybe, if she had continued, turned right at that moment, mindlessly pacing the hallways. Maybe then that would have been true.

Instead, a sudden noise interrupted her thoughts. And Morgan, of course, couldn't help but follow it. Her breath caught in her throat as she carefully stood, trying to gauge where the noise was coming from. Finally, she had a set direction.

A service closet straight ahead of her, where the hallway was decidedly more abandoned. Morgan barely dared to breathe as she carefully approached the closet. Each step was placed carefully and methodically as if one wrong step could shatter the illusion.

To Morgan's ears, it was a musical sound.

It was the sound of hope.

Groaning and wheezing.

Like some sort of broken engine.

A sound that before, Morgan could have only hoped to hear coming from a computer or tv.

Morgan took careful steps towards the door. She was shaking, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

Her hands were hovering just above the doorknob. A doorknob which was all but daring her to open it.

But she was afraid.

Afraid that if she breathed too hard or opened the door it would destroy the illusion. That it would all just disappear. And maybe it would. But, Morgan wanted so desperately to cling onto this one hope, this fantasy that oftentimes kept her going. So she hesitated, even if only for a second. Maybe the illusion would shatter, maybe her hopes of this fantasy becoming reality would disappear.

But she would never know until she tried.

Morgan opened the door painfully slowly, in an attempt to not make it creak.

But then the illusion was shattered.

Yet nothing disappeared, it was all still there.

The illusion shattered, because perhaps it never was or had been an illusion at all.

Maybe it was even real.

It was a terrifying possibility simply because it was simultaneously everything Morgan hoped for and everything she dreaded.

But she coudn't think about that right now. Because right now, Clara was currently sprinting full force.

Right towards Morgan.

She barely had time to react as she ducked behind the door, giving in to her reflexes. Thank god her terrible reflexes had not failed her now.

Clara, in contrast, marched right into the small room. No hesitation, but maybe a bit out of breath. Morgan's breathing stayed heavy and it took her a few moments to regain her composure. She inched towards the door, which was open by a crack, holding her breath again, shaking. Her hand brushed the edge of the cool door as she pulled it open. It was barely enough to peek her eyes through the door.

But that was enough.

The first thing her eyes met when she looked through that door, sat right in the middle of the room-

Was a big blue box.

Tall and well, almost exactly like it had been described in the show. Something old. Something new. Something borrowed.

Something blue.

There was a faint hum coming from the TARDIS, low and steady, calming even. A faint fog began to build up in the back of her mind. It was as if her anxious and worried thoughts began to slip into this fog. Her breathing grew less heavy and her muscles less tense. Her heartbeat finally slowed to a pace where it didn't feel as though it would burst out of her chest at any minute.

Morgan sent the box a grateful smile.

Turning back to take in the scene, another sight greeted her.

There he stood, with his box in the corner, his gray hair short and his jacket long and dark, with some red peeking out from underneath. He held two coffees at an awkward angle in his hands.

He was scowling, yet there was a hesitation in it that led Morgan to believe it was more of a confused scowl than an angry one. His eyebrows were curved and wild- attack eyebrows , Morgan smiled at the thought

The strangest thing though, the one Morgan expected to be surprised about the least, were his eyes. There was a distance to them, almost glazed over and yet ever-present. As if she was looking at them through heavy fog, or distorted by a sea of water. They were old, so very impossibly old. They told a story thousands of years old, of the falls of empires, and millions of deaths.

But beyond the veil, the sarcastic jabs and indifferent or angry stare was an even more hidden part.

Maybe it was kindness.

Maybe it was appreciation, for how the universe had lasted, how people had persevered, despite everything.

Maybe they were perplexed, dumbfounded at why everyone kept going even though it was all seemingly pointless.

They had seen so many people be born, live and die.

They had seen stars explode into existence, and fade into nothing.

They had seen the beginning of the universe and the end.

Or maybe, simply they were just tired.

Whatever the case, whatever was hidden behind those eyes.

They were unmistakably the Doctor's.

They were unmistakably real.

And they were something impossible to replicate for any tv show, no matter how great the actor or actress.

"Where the hell have you been?" Clara's voice broke her out of her trance.

She frowned. The words seemed familiar, and she had to wrack her brain for where she'd heard them before. Honestly, most conversations between Clara and the Doctor in series 8 blended together making it hard to pinpoint exactly when this was, and why it seemed familiar.

"You sent me for coffee." was his only explanation.

For someone so supposedly intelligent, who had lived for thousands of years, it never failed to astound Morgan how incredibly stupid the Doctor could be.

He had spent so much time around humans, it still perplexed Morgan how he could still have such terrible social etiquette. Morgan would have to help him with that when-

If she decided to travel.

Or if he even let her.

Because, well, would he even? It wasn't as if she was anyone special. And she wasn't even smart or well, significant in any way shape or form, besides happening to not be from this universe.

She was out here debating whether she should travel with him when she was not the only one making that decision.

And yet a part of her still desperately clung to that ideal, grasped onto it as if it were a string securing her to the rest of reality. Because it was, wasn't it? The only proper thing from her own universe in a way.

Maybe she still had her dad and her house but there still seemed to be an inexplicable emptiness clinging to her.

And of course, there was the part of her who had always wanted to travel the universe. Who had imagined scenarios and daydreamed about meeting famous celebrities and going to alien planets. She had the power right then to choose that. To see and experience things she couldn't have even fathomed before.

"Three weeks ago. In Glasgow." Clara rebutted her voice sharp as her annoyance seemed to grow. Morgan blinked. She almost forgot that they were still having a conversation there.

"Three weeks, that's a long time…"

No kidding.

It still felt as if she had missed a large part of the conversation. Yet somehow, only a few seconds seemed to have passed. Perhaps it would benefit her if she decided to tune back into the conversation.

They had now gone back into the TARDIS, but Morgan could still somewhat make out the majority of their conversation from where she stood. She pressed herself closer to the door to try to grasp their now muffled voice more easily.

"Why were you smiling?" the Doctor asked Clara, and Morgan sighed.

Ah, Danny .

Morgan hadn't found the time to properly question him about whether or not he liked Clara but she should soon. Although he might get a little annoyed that she was asking random, pretty personal questions.

To be fair, most of the students already seemed to be shipping them together, and Morgan could not for the life of her fathom why they cared so much about their teachers' love lives.

"Was I? No, I wasn't." Clara retorted quickly.

Keep thinking that if you want to, Clara.

The Doctor may not understand social cues but he wasn't blind.

Not yet, at least.

"You were smiling at nothing." the Doctor remarked again, Morgan almost wanted to clap at that. Finally some keen social deduction by one Doctor. Although Morgan couldn't see, he was currently pacing around the TARDIS console, fingers itching to pull some levers and get going. "I'd almost say you were in love, but to be honest." The Doctor trailed off at that. If Morgan had been in the TARDIS with them at that moment, she would have seen the knowing glint in his eyes. And the painfully smug expression he sported.

"Honest?" Clara asked and again Morgan froze. She still hadn't properly been able to place what episode this was yet. It was sort of ringing a bell, somewhere, in the deepest recesses of Morgan's mind. She really should have stayed true to that Doctor Who marathon she was supposed to have done a week ago.

"You're not a young woman anymore." The Doctor stated, which was actually, simply, factually incorrect. Especially compared to the Doctor's age.

"Yes, I am." Clara raised her voice, indignant and teetering over the edge. Morgan couldn't exactly blame her. Morgan sometimes wondered where he got these age estimates from.

To be completely honest, Morgan just assumed he made it up on the spot, deciding a different age for everyone each day.

Their pointless arguing carried on for another few minutes.

Morgan elected to ignore it.

It was a bit frustrating that they were still talking about that. Didn't they have better, more interesting things to talk about? Or things that would help her actually figure out where they were in the series like, ' Oh Doctor it seems that we are going to Sherwood to meet Robots today' or 'I'd like to go on a Time Heist right about now'.

That would have been really helpful right about now.

The arguing calmed a bit so Morgan decided to grace them with her eavesdropping again. She pressed her ear against the cold door to hear them better from inside the TARDIS. She also squinted, as if that would somehow improve her hearing.

To her disappointment, squinting, unfortunately, does not improve hearing.

"You're scared."

That was Clara's voice.

She still couldn't seem to place the episode. It seemed this was not from one of the Youtube video clips that she re-watched an unhealthy amount of time.

"I'm terrified." The Doctor confessed.

"Of what?"

Clara voiced Morgan's own thoughts.

Scared was an interesting thing.

Everyone experienced it, yet no one ever wanted to have others privy to their own fear.

No one ever wanted to admit that they were, truly, in fact scared.

That was probably the one thing that everyone in the universe shared in common.

Except for cybermen, that is.

Morgan reckoned the people who were able to admit they were scared were the bravest of them all.

"The answer to my next question, which must be honest and cold and considered, without kindness or restraint." the Doctor started. He took a deep, almost shaky breath in. "Clara be my pal and tell me,"

Am I a good man?

" Am I a good man?" Morgan's thoughts echoed his words at the same exact cadence and pitch.

Into the Dalek.

That's what this was. And Clara, Clara didn't know the proper answer to that question. Because it wasn't a simple 'yes' or 'no'.

Nothing was ever that simple, was it?

Maybe if the universe was as simple as yes or no, Morgan's life would be a lot easier.

But was that always a good thing?

Whether it was or not, Morgan didn't have time to dwell on all of her existential worries at the moment.

This was her chance. In a few moments, they would be off flying.

Anywhere.

Anywhen.

And she would have lost her chance again. But was she really brave enough to go? In theory, yes, but in practice? She could actually die, this was real and it was actually dangerous. And honestly, that was terrifying.

There were many incredible, brave people in the universe.

Morgan wasn't one of them.

Morgan didn't get a chance to figure out what would've happened if she'd gone at that moment. No time to dwell on what would have happened if she had chosen differently. Because it was already too late, the chance had slipped through her fingers. Before she knew it, the sound was back. The wheezing and groaning.

And with it, her hopes of travelling the universe.

Two weeks later, Morgan was going out.

Not on a date or anything, just with friends.

Well, friends may have been a bit of a stretch. Courtney had organized a little excursion with a few other girls because Clara and Danny were apparently finally going on a date. Hopefully, it wasn't as weird as it sounded when she put it like that. They were just going out and checking in on them.

Actually, when she put it like that, it definitely was as weird as it sounded. Morgan wouldn't judge them on their questionable life choices.

Never mind, she would definitely be judging them on their life choices.

Besides, that wasn't why Morgan was going. No Morgan was going because the first date between Clara and Danny took place during an episode. This was another chance.

And if she took it…

Anything could happen.

So there Morgan was, putting on some makeup and making her hair.

Some darker eyeliner, to bring out the blue in her eyes, some lipstick and a few dabs of mascara. She debated whether or not to add anything else, but decided against it. She wanted to be fairly comfortable during her outing, and if she was anxious, she would become hyper-aware of any heavy product that was on her face. Her clothes were casual, nothing she wouldn't normally wear, some nondescript jeans, a t-shirt and flannel.

Morgan did one final check that all of her hair was secured nicely in her bun, brushing any stray hairs away. She then checked her phone for any messages.

There was one new message, from Courtney, with the location details, along with a detailed plan on what info they would need to look for. Morgan rolled her eyes at that, not even bothering to read through the plan.

Courtney was an interesting girl. The show had been somewhat right, at school, she sometimes got on Morgan's nerves. She would never listen to the teachers and would always disturb Morgan's science, music and math classes. Why couldn't Courtney go disturbing the classes that weren't Morgan's favourite?

Surprisingly though, outside of class, she was significantly less annoying. She still cracked jokes, sure, but she didn't interrupt everyone at every breath.

Although she still did think of weird plans.

Exhibit A: Whatever today was supposed to be.

Honestly, if Morgan hadn't wanted to try to give it another attempt she would never have gone in the first place.

Morgan gave one final sigh as she sent the confirmation text.

This was most definitely a terrible idea.

Morgan stood outside of a small restaurant. Light poured out onto the street outside of it, many people fumbling about their routines, going out, laughing. The atmosphere was fairly lively, almost enough to lull Morgan into a false sense of security.

Almost.

The air was cold and crisp, and Morgan shivered. She really should have bought a coat. From the corner of her eye, she could only just catch Clara and Danny sitting at a table, with drinks in hand.

Morgan craned her neck to try to gauge what part of the conversation they were at. They seemed to be laughing hysterically at something. Morgan's face lit up with a ghost of a smile. For some reason, she only ever seemed to remember specific parts if they were funny, or really important.

In this case, it was through the many hours of bingeing Doctor Who out-of-context videos.

Ironically, if Morgan remembered, they were currently talking about Courtney, weren't they? Morgan attempted to hide a smirk as she turned to where Courtney and the rest of the girls were beside her.

"What do you reckon they're laughing about?" Courtney asked one of the other girls, as she peered through windows, trying and failing to look inconspicuous. Actually, it seemed as though Courtney was not even trying at all. Morgan held in a snort at that.

"No idea, " Morgan lied, her face contorted from holding in her bubbling laughter. Courtney narrowed her eyes at Morgan.

"What's so funny?"

Morgan didn't bother to grace that question with a response.

"What's that shirt you're wearing?" Courtney tried again, just noticing Morgan's mismatched outfit. Or rather, abnormal attire. Or maybe she was just trying to make Morgan pay attention to her since Morgan was currently trying her hardest to do anything but that at that moment.

"Oh, this?" Morgan asked, gesturing to her shirt, "Oh it's just a back-to-the-future shirt, I wanted to wear my Doctor Who shirt but I couldn't find it."

Morgan silently mourned as that wonderful reference fell on deaf ears.

On the bright side, Morgan had officially thoroughly confused Courtney with that comment. She smirked a little at that. Technically it wasn't a lie, she couldn't find her Doctor Who shirt anymore, because it didn't exist anymore

Courtney didn't need to know that part.

"Doctor Who?" Courtney asked and Morgan's grin grew wider at her confused expression.

She hadn't even thought of that when she'd first casually mentioned it.

This was just perfect. Way too good to pass up the opportunity.

"Exactly," Morgan said.

Morgan's attention was dragged back to the restaurant as Clara began marching furiously out of the building, her heels clacking angrily on the ground. Morgan winced. The argument must have occurred. In her secondhand embarrassment, Morgan blinked, somehow failing to notice that the other girls had gone at least 10 metres ahead of her.

Morgan ducked beside the building as the future Clara came back to the restaurant, opening the door and going back inside to apologize to Danny.

She sucked in a breath as she spotted the Doctor from the corner of her eye. He was barely visible, covered in shadows by the TARDIS, watching Clara's figure as it disappeared into the restaurant.

This was her chance. All she had to do was walk forward and talk to him. All she had to do .

No.

Her heart was pounding and her breathing had become ragged again.

No, no , no, no, no

She couldn't do it.

Why was she so scared?

It was right there, within her grasp, she just had to run forward and take it. Yet she was still frozen to the spot, feet painfully glued to the ground.

Why couldn't she just move forward.

Why couldn't she say a word.

Then there was a sound.

The illusion was shattered by the groaning and wheezing of a blue box . She could move again, maybe even speak, yet her heart still felt as though it would burst out of her chest at any moment.

And a blue box faded into nothing in the distance.

As Morgan fell asleep that night, the sound of the TARDIS dematerialising played on repeat through her head.

She had lost her chance again.

Maybe it was just never meant to be.