Hi guys! Sorry for the delay in the story, I had a bunch of finals and reports I had to get out of the way for college. I should be able to do at least one part a week from now on since my schedule's dying down for summer. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this next installment, where we get a little backstory on Poe and the Doctor. As always, share this story with people if you like it, favorite it, and be sure to follow the story to get the latest part as soon as it's released. Allons-y!

"But Doctor, we HAVE to go and help him!" Truman persisted as the Doctor ran around the console rejecting his claims.

"I refuse to help that man!" the Doctor said, his head held high in defiance as Truman chased him around and Windsor leaned up against the wall looking absolutely bored.

"He's only the greatest writer of all time!" Truman exclaimed. "My god, he basically created the detective novel, PLUS he is the master of horror!"

"I'd love to have that debate that greatest writer claim with you at some point, Truman," the Doctor replied. "But we have more important things to save and sights to see than the bloody drunkard who wrote The Raven."

"Doctor," Windsor interrupted, finally having enough of their argument. "Truman does have a point. He's a significant figure in history, even if he is American. We probably should try and save him."

The Doctor sighed, placing his hand on the console in exacerbation.

"I suppose you're right. As much as I hate to admit it, he's a literary icon. FINE!" He threw his hands in the air, and they landed on the controls of the TARDIS as he plotted a course to Edgar Allan Poe.

"WE'RE GOING TO SEE POE!" Truman yelled as he shook Windsor by the shoulders. Windsor pushed him away and brushed himself off as he shot his companion a dirty look.

Suddenly the TARDIS doors swung open, and a very disheveled looking Edgar Allan Poe entered. Truman gave what can only be described as a high pitched squeak of excitement and fell to the floor unconscious.

"Don't mind him," Windsor said to the confused author. "Big fan of yours. Cites you as being the inventor of the horror genre."

"These are what pass as companions these days, Doctor?" Poe mused as he gave a skeptical look at the passed out Truman and the pissed off Windsor. The Doctor looked at him scornfully.

"These are very brave people, Edgar, and I won't suffer you insulting them," he said.

"Wait, was Edgar Allan Poe a companion of yours, Doctor?" Windsor asked incredulously.

"Yes, and he was dropped off for disobedience," the Doctor murmured as Poe began to explain.

"That's not why I was 'dropped off', Doctor and you know it," Poe exclaimed, but the Doctor held up a hand.

"Just tell us why you need us and we'll be on our way."

"It's the Red Death, Doctor," Poe admitted. "The Red Death is walking among us. My god, he was exactly as I pictured him." His face turned white as he remembered the image, and a visible shudder ran through him.

"Have you been drinking again, Poe?" The Doctor asked as he circled the author and sniffed the air around him. "You reek of drink."

"Yes, I've had a glass or two," he confessed, waving it off quickly. "Not enough to cause this. This is reality, Doctor, not an image conjured from the recesses of my mind."

"EDGAR ALLAN POE!" Truman yelled from the other side of the TARDIS, having awoken from his shock-induced slumber. "I AM A HUGE FAN OF YOUR WORK! DUPIN IS GENIUS, AND THE WAY YOU WROTE TELLTALE HEART WAS SIMPLY RIVETING!"

"Funny story about Telltale Heart…" Poe began, bemusedly looking at the Doctor in the corner of his eye. Upon seeing his rage boiling he quickly switched topics. "Anyways, he is real, Doctor, and I beg you to take a look." He walked out of the TARDIS and bade for the three of them to follow.

"Truman, hang back a moment," the Doctor asked firmly, making the eager Truman stop in his beeline towards his literary idol. The Doctor brought his two companions close to him and spoke.

"I do not trust this man. There was a time where he held high esteem in my eyes but I no longer feel that way. I implore you both to not take his word as the gospel truth. Understood?" Windsor nodded, and after a second Truman too nodded reluctantly.

They followed Poe outside to find a bright and sunny fort and a very confused author.

"He must have dissolved in the daylight," Poe muttered as he paced back and forth in front of a shed that Truman guessed held guns and ammunition for the fort.

"So there's no 'Red Death' then is there?" flustered the Doctor as he shook his head in disappointment. "You had such potential, Poe, and you drowned yourself in drink and ruined it all."

"I swear on Virginia that it was here," he said, his eyes filled with sadness and woe.

"Isn't that a state in America?" asked Windsor.

"It's also the name of his dead wife that died of tuberculosis," nudged Truman. The Doctor walked over to the author, who was on his knees in sadness and confusion and shared tense words with him. Truman could tell the Doctor was trying to hold his temper, and that Poe was truly believing what he saw was true. Then the Doctor broke off from the conversation.

"Ok, we have decided we shall wait until nightfall for the Red Death to arrive," he said with a reluctant tone to his voice. "Until then I think we should explore the castle. Let's split into pairs. I'm with Po…"

"I think I shall take the obsessed fan of mine," sounded Poe from behind the Doctor, having recovered from his episode and was now looking rather collected. "We have much to discuss."

"Out of the question," asserted the Doctor as he shook his head vigorously.

"Please please please please let me go with him!" Truman jumped up and down like a young girl trying to convince her father to get her a pony. "I promise to be responsible!"

"Fine," the Doctor intoned, but brought Truman close to him again. "But remember what I said about him. Don't trust him." Truman nodded, and then happily followed Poe to the right side of the fort.

"So how did you come to be a companion to our dear Doctor?" Poe inquired, looking at Truman with grave eyes.

"My workplace was taken over by alien forces," Truman replied, excited to be talking face to face with his idol. "How about you?"

"There was an incident involving an axe-wielding corpse of George Washington running rampant in Baltimore of all places," he said with a slight chuckle. "Turns out it was an artifact from another planet that reanimated the deceased. That was the first of our many adventures. A lot of them served the basis for some of my stories."

"Forgive me for asking," Truman began, "but how come you didn't last as a companion."

"Funny story, that," Poe said with no humor in his voice. "We were on the case of a homicidal alien who could take the form of any life form it assimilated, I think the Doctor called it a Zygon. We had split up, looking for the alien on a street we knew it had to have been. The Doctor was the one who found the creature, but he was cunning enough to get the better of him."

"What happened?"

"The creature knew that the Doctor was the one searching for it, so when his back was turned the being knocked him unconscious with some sort of device and then killed him. As the Doctor's companion I'm sure you are aware of what happens when the Doctor's life is threatened, but he was far enough away from his TARDIS that it didn't happen right away. Thinking the Doctor dead, the Zygon tore up its floorboards and placed the Doctor inside."

"How did he escape that?" Truman, shocked from the story he was hearing asked.

"That's where I come in," Poe said with a joyless grin. "The Doctor had told me that we were to meet at a park, and if he or I did not arrive within a half hour of our scheduled meeting time that the other should look for him. So when the half hour was up, I started to search his houses. I came upon the Zygon's house and was greeted warmly by the creature in its human form. He invited me in with such confidence I was almost positive he wasn't our man. He placed seats for both of us on top of the very spot the Doctor lay, and over a cup of tea chatted with me."

Truman giddily jumped around, for he guessed the ending before Poe had finished the story. Poe gave him a weary look, and Truman immediately stopped.

"Anyways, as we were sipping our tea, I heard this enormous thump-thump, then another a second after it. I could tell the creature did to for a look of sheer panic enveloped his face. I played the fool and pretended to not hear it. Soon the noise appeared again, and the creature began to sweat. I sipped my tea and made conversation until the thumping became so prominent that the creature looked to be at a peak of madness. Then his resolve broke.

'CAN'T YOU HEAR IT?' he roared at me as I continued to unabashedly sip the tea. 'THE BEATING OF THE HUMAN'S HEART THAT I BURIED UNDER US?' He tore the floorboards up as he spoke, and as they all disappeared, the Doctor, who at that point I did not recognize because of his new incarnation, rose from the floor. He said something heroic as he always does and the Zygon fainted from shock."

"My god, what a riveting story!" Truman whispered in excitement.

"It's not done yet," Poe said. "After we disposed of the Zygon and the Doctor convinced me of his identity and explained that he was too weak from the regeneration to signal to me or try and get out, he made me swear I wouldn't tell a soul about this incident. So naturally I wrote a story about it."

"The Tell-Tale Heart is about the Doctor? The old man in the story is the Doctor?" Truman laughed, amazed by the sheer insanity of the situation.

"Yes, and because I wrote that story, which he knew to begin with I would write since he's a Time Lord by the way, he decided to leave me to my devices. I turned deeper to alcohol, deprived of my adventures with the Doctor." Poe sighed, and Truman stopped laughing.

"Well, he's back now, Poe. Maybe you can join us again!" he said with a hope that made Poe smile.

Suddenly around the corner sounded a low howl that turned into a deafening roar. Truman and Poe stopped in their tracks, frozen by the sound. A hulking shadow appeared in front of them, a shadow attached to a large beastly creature covered in silver fur and bearing vicious fangs.

"Is that a werewolf?" stuttered Truman, as Poe stared at the beast in disbelief.

"Whatever it is," Poe whispered to Truman, "I don't think it's going to allow us to live."