A/N: Ah! Hello all! Thank you guys so much for following this story, I'm so flattered! Here we meet the Doctor, so exciting! I really love writing this, hope you guys like reading this. We'll learn more about Anthea and her backstory in the chapter after this, so don't worry if it's a bit mysterious. Enjoy! （‐＾▽＾‐）
Chapter Two~
"Hello, my name's Martha." She was awfully surprised to see Anthea on the ground in front of her, and was staring at the wound on her leg thoughtfully. "There's no need to worry; I'm a doctor. Are you alright?"
Anthea didn't know how to respond to that. She was still surprised by the woman's – Martha's – presence there, let alone concern for her safety. She wasn't used to kindness. The markets she frequented, while polite in general, were places where you fended for yourself. Other times she was in situations where she had to actively fight for her own survival, so when Martha asked how she was, she was taken aback.
Her first instinct was to say that she was fine and to shove off – she didn't know Martha's intentions – but she thought a moment, looking at the woman before her, and she choked down that response in favor of logic. She was in a place she wasn't familiar with (late first or early second millennium Earth of all places!). She could only use one of her legs and was bleeding at a rate which she definitely needed help with - and soon. If she didn't accept any help, then how else was she supposed to figure any of this out, or even live? Her immune system wasn't built for this millennium!
"I'm... not so good over here." Anthea began hesitantly, lickign her lips in a futile attempt to keep them from drying, it was cold. "Can I ask where I am?" Her voice cracked and was much more rough than it normally was. She had to resist the urge to cough.
Martha smiled at her (one of those concerned smiles her mom used to give her) and nodded at the space traveller. "We're in London. Do you need any help? You seem pretty out of it." Anthea could see her warm eyes dart down to the wound on her leg again before meeting her eyes. She was speaking slow, as if in an attempt to not scare her off. "I can call you an ambulance if you need it."
"No hospitals." Anthea spat out quickly, sa fresh wave of panic rushing over her. If she went to the hospital she was screwed. She was on Earth, and she knew hospitals there had all sorts of IDs and certificates that she needed. She didn't even have any money to pay with! They wouldn't even know what had happened to her, their knowledge of light was too primitive. With what time she was in, they might start asking too many questions about it. Besides, she didn't know what kind of medical tech they had, she might have the blood drained out of her in a foolish attempt to "bring balance" to her bodily fluids... maybe she should just sew up her leg herself. Maybe she could ask for a sewing kit and some kind of liquor. But what would she tell Martha? Oh! "I don't… I don't have any money." She croaked.
"Well I can't just leave you here." The (so called) doctor in front of her frowned and furrowed her brows, obviously thinking. She sighed and gestured to Anthea with her arm, hiking up her bright red purse up onto her shoulder. "I'll help you out. Like I said before, I'm a doctor." Martha approached her slowly and then knelt beside her – on Anthea's bad side – and slipped her arm around her torso, hooking it under her left arm. Despite the pain she was in, Anthea found the contact somewhat comforting. Martha looked at her and smiled reassuringly. "My flat is just a block or two away, think you can make it there if I help you out or do I need to get more help?" Bracing herself, Anthea whispered that she can walk (she thinks), blowing some hair out of her face. She really didn't want to be left alone in the cold nighttime, so though she was still weary of the woman, she agreed. Martha nodded back at her, determination filling her warm brown eyes. "On three." She positioned herself so that she could take most of Anthea's weight, and Anthea moved so that her good foot was underneath her. This was going to suck, she knew it.
The two slowly stood up, and even though they nearly fell down on the way, they made it to a stand. Anthea's eyes closed as she grimaced, breath becoming choppy. Despite barely any weight resting on her injury, her leg burned from the weight underneath it (even if that weight was only her shin and foot). She took a moment to steady herself; instead of pain, she started to focus on her next steps. Martha took small steps beside her, which allowed Anthea to hobble next to her on one leg. It hurt. So much. With each impact a shock wave would crash through her body and she would've collapsed for sure had Martha not been there to keep her standing. She was suddenly much more grateful for the woman's presence.
Martha seemed tired, after what seemed to be hours later to Anthea - in reality it was about fifteen minutes - and she was about to say something about resting, when the woman beside her gave a sigh of relief and smiled, stopping where they were and turning to the blue door of the building beside them. "We're here." She looked at Anthea, who was just waiting for her to go inside. Martha hesitated for a moment, biting her ruby-lacquered bottom lip. "Um, don't worry about my flat mate. He's a bit weird - okay, a lot weird - but he's harmless, really. I promise."
Anthea raised an eyebrow at her, just wanting to get inside and sit down. She didn't really care about weird roommates. "Okay?" Martha nodded, and kicked at the door as what Anthea guessed was some form of knock. Martha's arms shifted around her a bit as she adjusted. She was sure she'd probably seen weirder people than Martha's roommate at the markets she'd set up at, but she was unfamiliar with Pre-Space humans, so she wasn't sure what to expect. The blue door creaked open in a burst to reveal a figure inside.
Well, she wasn't expecting that.
Backlit by the room behind him, a man stood there with rather unruly brown hair and a curious expression on his face. What got Anthea, though, was the bundle of wires hanging around his neck like a scarf and what looked like some primitive form of a toaster – that was just a bit taken apart – in the crook of his arm. Basically it looked like her when she worked on the Odyssey's engines. Not quite what she was expecting.
He looked at Martha first, curiosity obvious on his face, then to Anthea leaning against her, and then to the wound on Anthea's leg. "What happened." It wasn't said like a question, more like a demand for information. He immediately opened the door wider, ushering them inside the bright hallway. Martha helped Anthea in and set her down on the small couch that sat inside the sitting room.
Anthea was about to speak up when Martha answered for her, her soft voice suddenly professional and hard. "Bullet wound. I found her on the sidewalk and she seems pretty out of it." By the time she had even finished her sentence the man had ran into some other room and back again, now holding a box in his hands. They were completely ignoring Anthea by this point, something she was thankful for. The last thing she needed was to come up with some convoluted explanation as to how she got there, not knowing what would make sense to them. The man put on a pair of glasses.
"Well, it's a good thing you didn't call a cab, because the temporal distortions around her are phenomenal." He waved his hands around in front of her face and she leaned away from him, kinda creeped out. "It's like fog."
Well, that stopped Anthea's train of thought right where it was. Temporal distortions? Her eyes shot right to meet his, wide in shock. Thousands of thoughts raced through her mind, trying to think of something to say that would make sense, but these people knew about time travel apparently and she didn't know what to believe. Martha looked at him as well from the carpet where she was laying out what seemed to be first aid supplies. "What do you mean? Do you think she was touched by an angel?"
Anthea's internal dialogue screeched to a halt again. Did they know? No, there was no way they could tell she wasn't completely human from just looking at her, she was still wearing the oversized jacket from before. What were they talking about? Damn, they better not know.
The man in front of her looked pointedly at Martha before moving his gaze back to the panicking Anthea. "Well, we should ask her." He moved his arms out cautiously and rested his hands on her shoulders as if he was afraid he would scare her away, seeming to sense her discomfort. He looked her in the eyes and despite desperately wanting to look away, she found she couldn't. This guy was serious. "Look, I know this is scary, and strange, but I need you to tell us – before you came here, were there statues?"
Huh? What the hell did statues have to do with anything? Anthea cocked her head to the side in confusion. "What? No."
The serious look dropped off his face in a second and he flopped back into an armchair across from her. "Oh that's good 'cause judging by your clothing you're from the late 4th millennium and if the angels were still around then we would be in trouble because our entire plan should come to fruition in 2010 or so." At least they didn't suspect she wasn't human, so that's a plus. "So, how did you end up in jolly old 1968? And what happened to your leg? Because that looks like a hard light blaster. Nasty things, they are."
"I'm from the 5th millennium, thanks," She deadpanned. "And as to getting shot – my ship got boarded by pirates." Anthea looked down at Martha, twiddling her thumbs. The dark skinned woman seemed to have pulled out some disinfectant. She was much more comfortable now that she knew these people were time travelers, that technology came around much after practical health care had. At least she knew they weren't going to bleed her.
"What – space pirates?" Martha looked at the man, a smile of disbelief on her face. "Doctor, Is that a real thing?"
He smiled at her and nodded. "Oh, yeah. They're just pirates though, not space pirates. That would be silly. Mean bunch." He looked back to Anthea and shot up off of the couch as if he just remembered something important. "I'm the Doctor by the way," He nodded over to Martha. "She's a doctor, funny enough." He held out his hand. Anthea gave a smile and shook it. She liked this guy.
"It's a pleasure." She looked down at Martha again who had a spread out a variety of medical stuff – including a sewing needle. Anthea gave a face – she didn't like needles, although she was grateful for the help. "Thank you so much for the help. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't found me."
Martha just gave a wry smile back. "Nah, it's good. I was on my way back from a boring job anyway," She poured some disinfectant on a cloth in her hand and looked up at Anthea. "This is going to hurt a bit, alright? I need to make sure that this won't get infected. Doctor, could you turn on the telly? I think our guest here would appreciate the distraction." Martha looked the space-girl in the eyes and counted down. "Three, two, one."
The cloth hit her skin and Anthea cried out. It wasn't a scream but loud enough that the neighbors probably heard it. It was like someone crammed a knife into her already throbbing wound. She took in a deep breath and tried to focus on the muffled voices from the primitive television set in front of her, but she still closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the sofa. Damn, just as she was getting used to the pain, too.
She could hear Martha's mumbled apologies, but she jumped slightly when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked over, just lolling her head to the side. The doctor had sat down on the couch arm and was gently rubbing her shoulder. He looked at her and she saw the sadness in his eyes, as if he knew what this was like. She wouldn't doubt if he did. "It'll be alright. You'll get through this." It was a soft affirmation, but somewhere deep inside her, she knew it was true.