Hey, told you I'd written two chapters for today! And at last we see- Well, read the chapter and you'll soon find out! I'll have Chapter 4 up as soon as I'm done writing Chapter 5. I might edit 4 a bit before hand, so be patient. It feels a little short to me at the moment, and a bit cheap at the end of the chapter. I have NO IDEA how long this fic will be, so just bear with me yeah? I've broken my Fic record with this already, so I wanna see how long it can go on for! Enjoy the chapter~
Also - If you spot any errors in any of my chapters send me a message please. I write this on my iPod so the spelling and grammar check isn't ideal (though I tend to catch most issues) Automatic corrections could be there too, so send me a bell if you spot anything. Thanks!
Chapter 3: An Odd Start
~2 Years Later~
The sharp sound of a ringing bell shook the 15 year-old awake. It was a Saturday, and that meant prospective 'parents' would come to call at the Orphanage. Every orphan had to be up, washed, dressed and looking their best by 7 in order to have breakfast in time to meet the hopeful 'parents' starting at 8. The ginger sighed and set about the routine.
Even though she was 15, the Orphanage mistress refused to let her leave. At this age, her chances of adoption were slim at best, but nevertheless the routine had to be upheld.
At 7 prompt the bright haired individual was sitting at the large dining hall table surrounded by a horde of chattering children and even a few crying babies. A small toddler was in her lap, and she was trying to get him to sit still long enough for her to brush his spikes blonde hair into a shape other than that of a hedgehog, with little success.
She sighed again softly as she bent across the squirming boy to tie a ribbon around a young girl's ponytail. No matter what happened, she would still be at the Orphanage in the evening, consoling whoever did not get adopted. Some lucky children, most probably all three of the new babies that had come in over the past month, would go.
Every third Saturday of each month was the Orphanage's official open day for adoption, so more kids left then than on any other Saturday. Today was a third Saturday for sure.
The bell rang harshly again and the children all fell silent as the housekeeper entered the room. Breakfast was eaten and cleared in silence under her harsh eye, before they all lined up in the main hall, youngest to oldest. The babies were held, one each by the twins, the youngest orphans at 5, and the third was held by the 15 year old. An uneasy hush fell over all as they awaited inspection from the mistress. A 10-year old boy sneezed loudly and some of the children tittered nervously.
At ten minutes to eight, the mistress descended the stairs and strode purposefully down the line of children; straightening clothes, brushing hair and wiping grubby marks off of faces. When she reached the end of the line, she took the ginger hair of the oldest girl in her hands and twisted it up into a bun. The fringe still flopped into her eye, however, so the mistress whipped a hair pin out of her pocket and pinned it back.
The hall clock struck eight and, for the first time in her life, the fifteen-year old could have sworn she felt her pocket watch vibrate beneath her shirt, as if it too was striking the time. The doorbell rang and a shiver went down her spine as the housekeeper answered. Prospective 'parents' flooded into the room, along with a dark man who shook the core of the girl's mind.
She had seen him before. Definitely. Every year, he came. And every year, she forgot. How? Why? So many questions, but the 'parents' meant she couldn't ask them, not now. And by the time they left she knew she would have forgotten again.
The clock around her neck squirmed again as he passed the babe in her arms over to the mistress, who was showing the child to a set of 'parents'. The little trinket was shaking so much that it was beginning to worry her - it was her only link to her parents, and if it broke she wouldn't be able to cope.
The door opened again and the little watch twitched so violently that the girl had to catch it as it fell out of her top. It squirmed in her hands as a male voice yelled "Open!" in her mind. She glanced at the open doorway to see what had caused the clock to react this way - so sure was she that the two were linked.
A man, he looked to be about 30, stood in the doorway. His dark brown hair fell into his right eye and a red bow tie sat proudly around his neck. He wore matching braces over a creamy shirt, with a tweed jacket complete with elbow patches completing the look. He grinned broadly at the befuddled housekeeper - no one ever turned up on adoption day without a partner - and addressed the crowd of people.
"Hello," he said, voice full of childlike glee, "I'm the Doctor."