My Mission Through Space and Time

by truenarnian

When my sister disappeared, I thought the world had ended. At least, my world had. But then I met the Doctor, an extraordinary man who seemed to know everything: past, future, you name it, he knew it. Allying myself with him was a no-brainer. As it turns out, I would learn so much from him, and he would learn from me. (Doctor and OC, but not romantic)

4. Chapter 4: Getting to the Greek

Hey, guys! Thanks for reading. Just gonna say that I'll be mostly updating on Tuesdays or Wednesdays. Back to your scheduled fanfiction:

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Chapter 4- Getting to the Greek

I'll always remember the first place the Doctor and I went, because it wasn't where he had intended. He had explained about the TARDIS's screwy navigation system later on, when I had gotten a bit more used to space-and-time travel and I could take stock of new information easier; but those first few days, I had no idea what was going on.

The TARDIS shook and quaked as we traveled across space and time. "Is it supposed to be making that sound?!" I yelled over the vwoorping. It was an eerily beautiful sound, but it didn't seem like any machine should be making it. Although, what do I know about space ship mechanics?

"No, but I like that sound!" the Doctor replied. I wondered why I ever even asked to travel with him in the first place. I held on to the console tightly as the TARDIS gave an almighty lurch, sending the Doctor and me to the floor. As we hit the glass deck, the vwoorping suddenly stopped and the TARDIS came to a standstill.

"Does that happen every time?" I asked, rubbing the back of my head where it struck the floor.

"No…" the Doctor said unconvincingly. "Well, most." He climbed to his feet and I did the same, the Doctor running around to a computer monitor on the console.

"Where are we?" I asked, unable to decipher the circular writing on the screen.

"Er…" the Doctor trailed off. "Well, I dunno."

What? "Are the Aligrena here?"

"…No."

"How can you tell? The computer screen's just showing us circles!" I said, hoping the Doctor hadn't led us wrong. Maybe he was just misreading his own machine?

"Oi!" he exclaimed. "That's my language, if you must know."

"If your written language is circles, what the hell do you speak?" I asked.

"Normal words!" he defended. "I'm speaking it right now!"

I looked at him sideways. "You're speaking English, genius."

"No, I'm not. I'm speaking Gallifreyan, and the TARDIS is translating it for you," he explained, swinging the monitor around the crystal pump to a typewriter installed in the console. As I followed, he continued, "It gets in your head and translates anything. In fact, I'm hearing Gallifreyan come out of your mouth right now. Let's see if I can pull up a map…"

"Gallifreyan," I repeated softly. "So that's your language." It was unexpectedly…soft. You'd think an alien planet's language would be called something like Zebron or Machtengo, but "Gallifreyan" sounded like a wind blowing over a rolling wheat field. And yeah, yeah, I know it sounds poetic, but if you heard the Doctor talk about his native tongue, you'd be as inspired as I. "Where are you from?"

"Gallifrey."

I could've guessed that.

"It sounds like a lovely place," I said sincerely as he pounded away at the typewriter keys.

"It was," he replied, in a voice so low I could hardly catch it. "Aha! Oh, we're not on Sarsgaroth at all."

"I thought we were following the Aligrena's coordinates."

"Well, sometimes things don't go according to plan."

I rolled my eyes. "So where are we?"

"Athens, 529 BC." The Doctor took my hand and pulled me to the TARDIS doors, throwing them open to me. Outside was a weathered stone road, occupied by men in chitons and women in peplos, some of the former leading mules pulling carts of goods behind them. Great stone buildings and temples rose up around us, throwing their shadows over the alleyway the TARDIS had landed in. Barefoot children wearing dirty tunics ran past the Doctor and I, playing what looked like Tag.

I was torn in two: half of me wanted to march straight back into the TARDIS and track down Naomi, but the other half wanted to explore a bit. I always loved learning about the Greek and Roman gods and goddesses in elementary school, and Greek culture in general fascinated me. Come on, Erica, I mentally chided myself, you're not on a Universal Tour with the Doctor. He's just going to help find Naomi.

"Let's try again," I said, trying to keep the resignation out of my voice. It would've been fun to see ancient Greece, but I'm not with the Doctor for fun.

Suddenly, a scream rang through the air.

"What the hell was that?" I asked, slightly alarmed.

"Rather normal, I'm afraid to say," the Doctor replied, before we both broke into a run.

Luckily, the source of the scream was just around the corner and down the road. It was a woman standing amidst a crowd of Greeks, staring fearfully into what looked like an ancient furniture store. One slender hand was covering her mouth while the other clutched at her side, traces of blood showing through the white fabric of her tunic.

"Make way! Make way!" the Doctor yelled as we forced our way through the concerned crowd. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out his leather wallet, flashing it around to the onlookers. "I'm a healer! Make way!"

We were finally through the crowd to the apparent victim, still slightly hysterical. "There's nothing to see here!" I yelled, getting the outer fringes of the group to disperse. I wrapped one arm around the woman and took the hand covering her mouth, guiding her into a more private corner of the street. We saw an old, cracked stone bench and I sat the woman down, mindful of her wound. When I moved away, the Doctor proceeded to go to work examining her, carefully pushing away the fabric of her tunic to look at her injury.

"Hello, ma'am," the Doctor said, sitting on the bench. "I'm Doctor…er, Satorno. Yeah, Doctor Satorno. Let's go with that. Are you terribly hurt?"

"No, not at all," the woman replied, seeming to regain her head. "The injury wasn't why I screamed."

"What's your name, ma'am?" I asked gently.

"Hekate," she answered. "Hekate Matthias."

"Can you tell us what happened to you?" I asked, hoping to distract her from the Doctor, who was now taking out his sonic screwdriver. I hadn't been traveling with the Doctor long, but I knew it wouldn't be good if someone from ancient Greece saw technology that wouldn't be invented even in my own time.

"Well, I was walking along the road," Hekate began, "and I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my side. It didn't hurt very much at all, actually. But when I turned around to see what had caused it, I…I s-saw…"

"Take your time," I said, hoping I didn't sound like I was rushing her. Truth was, I wanted to know what she saw. Maybe it would lead to Naomi after all.

"It was a Gorgon!" Hekate cried.

"…A Gorgon," I repeated. "As in, Medusa?"

"Yes, she was here! I am fortunate she didn't look me in the eyes. She simply scratched me and then ran away! I didn't even see her face."

Hekate and the Doctor sat on the bench while I leaned against the opposite wall, all three of us sharing identical expressions of disbelief. Were Gorgons real? If they were, why were they coming into Greece and scratching bystanders without looking at them, like a Gorgon would?

"Looks like an ordinary stab wound," the Doctor said, scanning the injury with the screwdriver. "Not serious at all, very shallow. You'll be fine." He reached into the pocket of his coat (all the way up to his elbow—maybe the TARDIS wasn't the only thing bigger on the inside), pulled out a roll of gauze and some medical tape, and began applying the gauze to Hekate's injury, handing me the tape. I took the thin roll and tore off four short pieces with my teeth, which the Doctor used to secure the bandage. When he was done, the Doctor smiled at her reassuringly; but there was something one-dimensional in that smile, something that made it not quite as reassuring as it could be.

"Kate!" an unfamiliar male voice called from the end of the alley. There stood a tall Greek man, his limbs twiggy but his toga making him look broader. He hurried toward Hekate and the Doctor moved off the stone bench, giving the new party room. Hekate stood to greet him, reassuring him that she was fine.

The newcomer turned to the Doctor and I. "Please forgive me, sir and madam. I am Herod Matthias, and this is my wife."

"Herod, I'm alright," Hekate soothed. "This is Dr. Satorno and…my dear, I don't believe I learned your name."

"Hermia," I said without missing a beat. She'd always been my favorite character in A Midsummer Night's Dream, and her name sounded Greek enough. "I'm his…helper. With herbs, and such."

Both Matthiases seemed confused, a slightly-judgmental look shared between them. "Well, thank you both," said Herod, grateful nonetheless as he slipped an arm around Hekate's waist. "May the Fates allow me to return the favor." With that, he began guiding his wife out of the alleyway, the Doctor smiling pleasantly after them. It was only when they had turned the corner and left our line of sight he rounded on me.

"You're my 'herb helper'?" he said, with the sort of anger a child had when you denied them a cookie. "What even is an herb helper?"

"I had to think of something!" I said defensively. "Go easy, it's my first time in ancient Greece."

We began walking out of the alley as the Doctor added, "And what was with 'Hermia'? Do you make a habit out of lying about yourself?"

"If you get a secret identity, why can't I?"

He sighed. "Fine. Just…next time, provide only enough information about yourself to answer the question. The less they know about us, the better."

We came to the edge of the alley and scanned the road before us, deciding which way to go. "What do you want to do now?" the Doctor asked.

"We're not finished," I said. "You're hiding something about Hekate's injury. What is it?"

"Some abnormalities," the Doctor said offhandedly, leading me across the street and ducking behind a pillar. Herod and Hekate were just down the road, apparently hurrying home. "She'll be fine."

"Then why are we following her?" I made my tone as condescendingly authoritative as possible.

"We're not following. We're checking if the coast is clear."

Before I had time to form a response, the Doctor had taken my hand and pulled me down the street, diving into the furniture store Hekate had been standing in front of.

The Doctor pulled out his screwdriver and began scanning clay pots and stone sculptures while I walked carefully by his side, making sure I didn't break anything. It was rather beautiful home furnishings; if we weren't looking for a monster, I would've stopped to admire it. "So what are we looking for?"

The Doctor, intent upon his task, didn't answer until he checked the readings on his screwdriver. "Not quite sure," he said, looking around like a curious puppy. "But whatever it is, don't let it look you in the eyes."

"You're actually listening to that woman?" I reprimanded under my breath. "She couldn't have been right, Gorgons are myths!"

"Well, what do you think happened?" he replied sarcastically.

"Why should I know? That's your job!"

"Give it a go!" His tone was more exasperation than encouragement.

I shrugged, casting about in my mind for a satisfactory explanation. "The blade was drugged?"

"That's…logical," the Doctor praised, hardly sounding sincere.

I rolled my eyes. "Well, what did you have in mind?"

"Not…quite…sure," the Doctor replied, eyeing an official-looking man who had just come out of the back room.

The newcomer spotted us, began walking to meet us, and called, "I'm the store owner. Can I help you?"

The Doctor pulled out his leather wallet again, showing it to the owner. "Don't mind us, just an inspection," the Doctor explained. The owner took the wallet from the Doctor and peered at it suspiciously.

Apparently, everything checked out. He handed the wallet back to the Doctor and said, "Forgive me, sir; I was not aware of any inspection."

"That's the way we do things," the Doctor explained. "We like to keep you on your toes. Now, may we begin?"

"Certainly," the owner said, a good deal more genial toward us. "Can you do it without me? I have some complicated orders to sort through with a client."

The Doctor nodded. "We'll come to you if we have any questions." The owner nodded and left his store, leaving us alone. The Doctor moved to put the wallet back into his jacket pocket, but I snatched it out of his hand before he moved it. I opened it and…

"How?"

"Give the psychic paper back!"

"Not until you explain it!" I lifted the psychic paper to eye level between us, never breaking eye contact with him. "You flashed this to everyone before, and people thought you were a doctor. Well, a medical doctor. Then you showed it to the store owner, and he thinks you're the general manager."

"It's called psychic paper," the Doctor explained. He made a grab for it, but I kept it out of his reach (quite an accomplishment, considering his long limbs). Put out, he continued, "It can become whatever credentials I need it to be—a party invitation, a pilot's license, a computer expert…anything." In a lower voice, he added, "And actually, he thinks I'm the CEO."

I paused, thinking back. "You showed this to me back in Chicago, too, didn't you?"

The Doctor bit his lip. "Yes, I did, Erica," he admitted. "I had to get you to trust me to heal that burn on your wrist."

I flung the psychic paper to the Doctor's feet. "How am I supposed to trust you now?"

The Doctor looked heartbroken. "Erica—"

"No—just…I'll just go look on this side of the store," I said. "You take that side." I began walking away from the Doctor; I could hear him calling after me, but I wouldn't turn around. I wouldn't.

Once I found a dark little corner, I used it to pace back and forth, fuming. How dare the Doctor lie to me! How could he? He could've made my arm fall off, all because I let him treat me! And even when he did allow me on board, he didn't tell me that he'd lied. He didn't feel the need to apologize at all. The nerve of that man.

I ran my hand over the pink scar on my arm, a token of the Aligrena's attack, as my windstorm of thoughts started to die down. Maybe there was something in this dark little corner that calmed me, because I was starting to see sense. I mean, the Doctor only lied to me so I would trust him. After all, he did fix the burn. And we had only just met: the Doctor lied to the store owner and Hekate like he had lied to me, and that was only because he wanted to help.

I have got to stop running away from him, I thought as I turned around and began walking back, preparing my apology. Predictably, I tripped on the leg of a stone bench and flung my arm out to regain my balance, expecting to hit a statue. Instead, my hand sunk into scaly, cracked flesh, a growl building up inside a phantom throat. I looked up (though I really didn't want to) and found myself staring into a snarling jaw, the throat lined with teeth.

I couldn't remember screaming.

I knew I had to have screamed, or else the Doctor wouldn't have found me so quickly. He was there in an instant, screwdriver ablaze. He grabbed my arm and yanked me away from the stony monster, holding the sonic up like a sword.

"Don't look into the eyes, Erica," he ordered.

I looked at him, shocked. "There really is a Medusa?!"

"Don't be silly," the Doctor said.

"Then why can't I look?"

"Because all stories are based in fact." Suddenly, the Doctor began running, pulling me along. I eventually wrenched my arm free from his grasp and we plunged deeper into the furniture showroom, hiding among marble sculptures.

The Doctor began examining the readings from his screwdriver. "What does it say?" I asked breathlessly.

"Shhh!" The Doctor's hand suddenly covered my mouth, the screwdriver pressing firmly into my lips. He held me against him, my back to his chest, as we heard the sound of rough stone scraping over smooth stone: the creature was passing right in front of us.

It seemed like that monster was sliding past us for eternity. The Doctor and I listened with bated breath, waiting for it to discover our hiding place. Eventually, the scraping quieted as the creature slunk away from us. The Doctor didn't release me until it was completely quiet. His hand lowered from my mouth, but I wouldn't dare say anything. What if it came back?

"Where's it gone?" the Doctor breathed. He sounded just as wide-eyed as I did. Suddenly he completely released me and peered around the pillars that had shielded us. "Where's it gone?"

Carefully, I walked around the pillars and glanced at the floor; there was the strangest trail of rock particles there, smaller than gravel but bigger than dust. The trail led past our hiding place and out the front door.

"What on Earth is that?" I whispered, pointing at the trail. The Doctor gained this far-off look in his eyes, like he was looking back.

"Hekate," he breathed. "It's gone back for Hekate!"

I wasn't aware of making the conscious decision to begin running, but suddenly I was bolting out of the shop, towing the Doctor behind me like a little girl trying to walk a lazy dog. We made it out of the store and began running down the road, where the rocky tracks became significantly harder to follow. We pounded down the road, but our progress was halted by the dense throngs of people grouped around different stalls in the road. Suddenly, we heard a scream.

"Kate!"

Not Hekate's scream this time. Herod's.

The Doctor and I froze for a moment: what had happened? What did Medusa do? Could the Doctor and I have done something to stop it? We looked at each other, wide-eyed, and began struggling more fiercely through the crowd, which had hesitated with Herod's wail. They parted easily for us and we bolted down the road, some people following at a less-intense pace. The Doctor and I found Herod kneeling on the ground, cradling—

"Oh, my God," I said, my hand clapping over my mouth. There on the ground was Hekate, but not how the Doctor and I had left her. I shudder, even as I'm writing this record, of the memory of Hekate, for the few moments I had known her.

She was completely broken in two.

But literally broken: she had somehow become a statue. Her lower body had completely broken off, the smooth marble that used to be flesh lying a yard away from the couple. Hekate had broken at the midriff, and she was slowly becoming marble; only her head and right arm were still flesh.

"Doctor Satorno!" Herod cried, spotting us. "Doctor, please, you must know something! What is this?"

"Doctor," Hekate said pleadingly, "What's happening to me?"

The Doctor fell to his knees and began running the sonic screwdriver along the length of Hekate's body—well, the body that hadn't broken away. "No, no, no," he kept chanting, his voice rising in volume.

"You must be able to help, Doctor!" Hekate begged. "Please, you must! Look at me, for Zeus's sake!" She lifted her arm, and we watched as it impossibly paled and hardened into smooth stone, until Hekate couldn't move it anymore.

"Doctor, what's happening to her?" I asked, my voice hysterical.

"The protein in her body is being converted!" the Doctor explained. "Well, more accurately, it's being replaced!"

"With what?" I asked as Hekate's forehead began to smooth over.

"Help me, Doctor!" Those were Hekate's last words before her face hardened and she became a broken marble statue.