Doctor Who

Because Your Special

A Changeling of Mythology

Donna's eyes snapped open. Something wheezing, the sound a car would make if it had lungs that were thick with phlegm, mixed with a sort of metallic grating sound. It wasn't the unusual sound that woke her though, but the flashing blazing white beaming through the slats in her window's blinds. Carefully, sitting and wiping at her eyes, half-afraid this was some really weird nightmare and half-afraid that there had been some sort of horrible car-crash or some odd alien machine was passing down the road.

However, there was a square shadow cast on her window, proving that whatever had just arrived, whatever was glowing like twenty trees on Christmas day and whatever was wheezing with that distinctive sound, had landed on her balcony. The mysterious shadow was larger than a telephone-booth, not that one saw one of those much these days, and the churning light was streaming from its top.

Something hit the balcony's glass doors, causing a firm sound to echo in the room. The blinds swayed as the shadowy solid rattled against the doors, hitting them repetitively. Donna swallowed, pulling the blanket around her middle and laid very still. She had this vague hope that, perhaps, if she laid still, she could waken from this dream, or at least escape the intruder's notice. Her skin had begun to crawl at the back of her neck and tingly uncomfortable feelings began spreading up and down her shoulders.

"Blast!" Came a masculine voice and the glass doors were rattled more violently. "I can't get through!"

Were one of those alien-things—maybe even the scary Dalek-things—coming to attack her? The voice, irritated and unmistakably English, sounded human but then again, James Bond, for all his big-eared weirdness, looked pretty human. But, at least her alien friend, didn't land on her balcony, insistent on getting in.

Donna, usually ready to attack when threatened, found her anger mingling with deep dread. She had no pepper-spray, thanks to half of her luggage still being in the airport, and she wasn't even sure where her heels were. Isn't that what one did, when attacked? Stab people with your heel's spikes? Darting off the bed, landing in a graceless sprawl on the carpet, legs twisted in her blanket, Donna desperately began patting around her for her shoes.

"I say, did you hear…" The voice added, his voice though slightly muffled, rang through the glass and the banging ceased as the alien, or whatever he was, listened on the other side. As Donna ducked behind the bed, holding still and quiet, there was a moment of perfect silence and then the glass door began rattling more insistently. "Open up in there!"

"There is obviously no one at home, young man!" Came an imperial, aged shout, from somewhere in the distance. Perhaps someone saw her distress, and was calling from the window of another building? But there was no building across from hers, not for a good distance…and the voice wasn't that far away. "Come away from the door and let the child try. She is much smaller. Some science-teacher that man is—trying to squeeze himself through, even though it is obviously impossible."

The doors rattled once more, a final gesture, and then someone else was at them. This time, tiny girlish hands, somehow creepy the moonlight, were laid flat against the glass, smoothing down them as if to look for a secret latch or entrance point. "The door is locked, grandfather…" The soft voice was like that of some unearthly child, like a changeling of mythology, "but someone… is in there…"

Eyes locked with hers and Donna realized she'd moved her head into view so that she to see the new intruder. She bolted for the door to the hallway. Whoever they were, they wanted in and they weren't natural. Donna flung back the door, intent on reaching The Doctor.

There was another ungodly sound, that horrid creaking sighing sound of metal and age, and a rush of wind sped down the hallway. Donna almost had the feeling she was standing on a train platform, waiting for the rushing clang of some ancient steam engine to finish passing, battered by the wind left in its wake. But this wind proceeded something…something was flicking into view, a square-ish outline growing clearer and clearer with every sputtering wheeze.

"Oh my god," Donna slammed the door shut, locking the deadbolt with cold fingers, "it's an invasion. They're everywhere!"

There was another desperate clatter at the windows. "We should smash the horrid thing. Shall I fetch a chair?" Came a female voice from the balcony behind her.

"Be practical, Barbara…" The first man was speaking again, but Donna, in her dash to her bed-stand, was too busy listening to her own pounding heart and racing thoughts, to pay any attention to their argument.

No phone.

Why have a phone in a posh hotel? Not certainly for case of emergencies. After all, everyone had their own mobile nowadays…her mobile!

Donna dove to her luggage pile in the corner.

"There's that woman again." The alien girl at the window, hands cupped over her eyes, stared into the room at Donna. "Won't you let us in? We are trapped, you see."

"Not on your bloody life!" Donna shouted, tearing through her bags. How could she have lost it? Where had she put the slim chunk of plastic that could save her very life? "I had better have minutes!" But minutes didn't matter because as she continued to search, she realized that her cell-phone was nowhere to be found.

Swallowing down her fear, she went again to the front door, opening just a crack. A man was standing outside her door. The long scarf, long nose, tremendously curly black-ish brown hair and the oddest face confirmed to Donna, that this other intruder—must be in league with those on her balcony—or at the very least, be an alien.

"Ah," the alien said in a sonorous tone.

"Ahh!" Donna screamed back. Something about the low languid sound of his voice, sent chills down Donna's spine, and his ghastly wide smile and dazed deep-sunken eyes made her recoil. It was almost like some unstable adolescent, with mental illness, had taken possession of a homeless man. Or something. She didn't know. But she didn't like it.

After observing her with a rather sullen, confused expression, he smiled like a deranged ghost. He began patting his pockets. "Would you like a je…" his voice trailed off as his head bent into his chest as he continued searching his clothes, but his head popped back up again as he added, "baby? I… have them about here…somewhere…"

Donna slammed the door in his face. "Okay, no going out. No phone…"

The banging continued on the glass at the other end of the room.

"Stop that rattling," She screamed at the intruders, "or I'll rattle you in a minute!"

Of course, they were separated from her only by a fragile inch of glass, and probably had laser-pistols and fancy universal sonic blasters. A few slaps, or a few brave insults, was not going to slow the aliens down, if they really wanted in.

The unnatural child, hands still pressed against the glass, stared at her with deep dark eyes. She showed no sign of moving or even thinking of retreating.

A knock came at the door at Donna's back. "Nobody's perfect, not even me—which is surprising really—but I really am a very nice chap. Perhaps, young lady, if you opened the door, you could help me find…"

Donna lurched away from madman's voice, eyes falling suddenly on the firm solid form of the great big blue-box. The Doctor's box, the time-ship of the Time Lord, and she reached for the handle. There was something perfect, about the coolness of the metal in her hand, the blue wooden door in front of her, like she was coming home. And she wasn't surprised when it opened and let her into the shadowy cavern-like control room.

As soon as the door closed behind her, the sound of entreating strangers, rattling doors and knocking fell away.