The Doctor Works on Christmas

by Kindred19

On Christmas Eve, a young girl encounters someone quite different from Santa in her living room. Simply put, this is the first person fictional account of the writer's encounter with the Doctor. A first attempt at first person fan fiction. Completely fictional, unfortunately. Therefore, I claim rights to nothing but my words. Enjoy, feel free to review, and look for more to come!

2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – The Doctor Works on Christmas

In retrospect, I really shouldn't have screamed.

But in retrospect, the wall between fiction and non-fiction had just been shattered before my eyes. Lightly speaking.

Upon my scream, the man (the Doctor, he was the Doctor, can I say that, can I call him THE Doctor?), bumped his head on something in the box, I dropped my stick and he pulled himself out of the box so rapidly that he lost his balance and landed in some sprawling formation on the floor.

Well, that was just really graceful.

"Woah! Hold on there," he said once he saw me. "It's allright!"

I'm going to be honest: I think that's what he said, but I'm not positive. I had stopped screaming at this point, but the sheer art of movement that was happening in front of me rendered me useless for anything by gaping. If that makes sense. So, I just sat down on the stairs which had issued me into this whole reality, if it was reality at all.

"Well, I guess that must have been sort of a shocker there. Don't want to go about waking your parents up, though." I swear there was a twinkle in his eyes as he sprung onto his feet here.

"But don't worry, I'm not an intruder in the sense of the word. Well, I mean, I did just pop up in your living space here, but that's the TARDIS' doing. I blame her. Decided to have a temper tantrum in the middle of flight, probably just because I haven't been giving her enough attention lately. Alway been a lil' drama queen like that. But anyway, hello, I'm the Doctor and I guess it would be appropriate to say 'Happy Christmas' right about now."

He was now standing directly in front of me, one hand in his trouser pocket and the other extending towards me. I took it, unable to control the shakiness that I knew was there. But I wasn't focused enough to care.

"Marie."

"Allright then, Marie."

"Is that a cookie in your pocket?"

He looked at his breast pocket, then at me, then pulled one of my pinwheels from its hiding place and handed it to me.

"Well, you're a sharp one."

I'm not going to pretend that that my heart didn't skip a beat.