Last chapter before shit REALLY goes down.

Posting early because today (Sep 4th) is mah birthday. 19 w00t w00t! So if anyone wants to gimmie fanarts or something *COUGH COUGH*

Violet usually spent her days off relaxing. Her job could be quite stressful. She loved working with children and helping them, but it was always disheartening to watch a child grow steadily worse as their body failed. Sometimes the parents could be a huge pain in the rear—it often seemed that the parent would fuss more than the child—but, unfortunately, you couldn't work with children without dealing with the parents as well. But every time she sent one of her inpatients home or saw positive test results, her heart would swell and she'd feel like shouting her joy to the sky. Or over the intercom.

This last week had been less taxing than usual and she knew part of that had to do with John. She'd thought he was handsome the moment she laid eyes on him but she'd never expected him to look at her twice. Her track record with men wasn't exactly flattering despite the pretty face and decent body that worked for pretty much every other blonde. Her sister Liz thought it was because her brains were bigger than her boobs.

There was a serious flaw in this logic, however. Liz wasn't as smart as Violet was but she didn't fare any better than her with men. When Violet pointed this out to her, Liz decided they must be exception to the status quo like Elle Woods from Legally Blonde.

At least she did until a few nights ago when Violet showed up to her work with John.

Liz had all but dragged her away from the table early on to get the details. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"I guess I do."

"When did this start?"

"Last week."

Liz had peered around the corner to get another look at John. "I've never seen him before. Where did you meet him?"

"He works at the hospital with me. He just moved here from London a few months ago."

"Which London?"

"England."

Liz gave her an incredulous look. "Tall, handsome, smart, and he's British. Oh. My. God. Sister, I think you just struck gold."

Violet laughed quietly at the memory and looked down at her list. She'd invited John over for dinner after learning he was a mediocre cook. He was currently at home sleeping after working all night and before her invitation, all he'd had to look forward to was a TV dinner. So she'd browsed through her grandmother's cookbook and found the recipe for tuna casserole, wrote up a list, and headed to Kroger.

She was examining the different brands of tuna, glancing periodically at her purse to make sure it was still there, when she just happened to see a familiar black woman coming up the isle towards her. She grabbed a can of tuna quickly, tossed it into her cart, scratched it off her list, and finally looked back up when she heard the cart stop in front of hers. Violet bit the inside her lip and tried to remember where she knew this young woman from.

"Hello, Dr. Lewis," she said with an English accent.

Oh, she was one of the med-students; the one John spoke about often. They'd both moved from London around the exact same time but they'd never met until they came here. She'd seen them interacting a few times and in the beginning she'd thought maybe she was infatuated with him, but it quickly became apparent her interest in John was platonic. If anything, she acted like they were old friends.

"Martha, right?" Violet asked. "John's friend."

"That's me." Martha nodded. "Day off?"

"Yes. You too?"

"Yep. And it's my week to do the shopping."

Violet realized again that she knew very little about their newest med student. Violet usually made an effort to get acquainted with the new students when they came but Martha had arrived after her peers and Violet had never gotten the opportunity to do so. Not without approaching John as well and she'd been far too shy for that in the beginning.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Martha laughed and shook her head. "No. I share a flat with my friend and we split the responsibilities."

"Makes sense."

"Plus—" Martha glanced around and leaned closer "—I really don't think it's safe for me to have a boyfriend right now. My two best friends have been dancing around each other for years. I've been on them for months and I finally got them to make some decent progress. I'm pretty sure if I ever showed up with a bloke, they wouldn't hesitate to stick their noses in."

Violet laughed at the grimace on the younger woman's face. "Was it worth it?"

"Yes," she answered immediately. "They do love each other very much. In fact, I think he's going to be moving in with us soon. We've been living separate from him since we got here but we've decided we don't like it. We're used to living together, you see." She sighed. "It's tough being the third wheel in my own home but they're happier together and I'm happy when they are."

It seemed like a strange relationship to Violet but there was also something quite appealing about it. They must've been friends for a long time if they'd gone and formed a familial unit of their own.

"And this way, I won't have to the dishes as often."

She laughed. "That is a definite plus."

Martha grinned at her. "And what about you? I hear you've got a thing with John Smith."

I see what you're doing, Violet thought. This girl was used to helping her friends' relationships along. Maybe she was intending to do that now. She didn't think she and John needed help but it was nice to know she had the support of his friend. So she smiled and nodded. "Yeah. He's coming over tonight for dinner."

"Oh, really?" Martha's eyes widened and her enthusiasm suddenly seemed a little…forced. "What are you making?"

"Tuna casserole. That's why I'm here, actually." She looked down at her list again.

"Well, don't let me keep you." Martha said, taking the hint. "Oh, no, wait. Before you go, I need to ask you something. I've noticed you sitting with John and Elliot recently. If you don't mind me asking, what exactly does John read to him?"

Violet hesitated. She wasn't sure John wanted people knowing about his dreams. He'd been so nervous telling her, after all, and the only other person he trusted with the knowledge was a shy boy who didn't talk. And if he hadn't already told Martha on his own, she probably shouldn't. "I don't think I can say."

"It's—well, it's kind of important. My roommate dropped her purse when she was at the hospital the other day. It was returned but something was stolen from it and we were told it was a pediatric patient that had turned the purse in. I took her around the wards to ask the children if they knew who had it and one of them said it might've been Elliot. He admitted to turning in the purse but he said he hadn't taken anything. I believed him, he's not the thieving type, you know? But before we left, he gave her one of the pictures in his sketchbook. I know he draws things from what John reads but that picture actually looked familiar and we were wondering if it was just a coincidence or…"

"What was on it?"

"A golden wolf with glowing eyes."

The Bad Wolf, it had to be. The human girl who'd harnessed the power of a goddess to reclaim what was hers. He was probably trying to cheer her up. There was no way Violet could explain that to Martha, though. "Well, I don't know about the picture… but… Please don't tell him I told you anything."

"I won't."

"He has these dreams about a man called the Doctor. He writes them down and reads them to Elliot. The wolf must've been from one of the dreams."

Martha's eyes widened. "He dreams he's the Doctor?" she whispered. "How long has this been going on?"

"At least a month."

Martha swallowed and shook her head quickly. "Well. Alright then. Thanks. I'll see you at work."

She swung her cart around and all but ran down the isle. Violet watched her go, completely dumbfounded, and she stood there staring at the empty isle for a few minutes after Martha was long gone. She'd been prepared for one of several possible reactions but the response she'd received wasn't one of them. Martha had been surprised for sure, that had been expected, but she'd also acted like Violet had confirmed something for her. And she'd been scared. Very scared. And Violet couldn't figure out for the life of her, why.

She finished her shopping quickly and headed back to her home. She regretted mentioning the dreams but she really hoped Martha wouldn't raise a fuss about them. They were just dreams, after all. It wasn't unheard of for a person to have reoccurring dreams or similar ones on the same subject. The subconscious was a funny thing. But why had Martha been afraid?

She replayed the last part of their conversation over and over in her mind. She hadn't said anything wrong or even hinted that the Doctor was dangerous. She hadn't even mentioned he was an alien. She didn't realize until she'd set her groceries on the counter that it wasn't Martha's expressions she should've been focusing on. It was her words.

"He dreams he's the Doctor?"

Violet hadn't told her that. Martha had immediately jumped to that conclusion and Violet had confirmed it by not correcting her. And Elliot had just so happened to give her roommate something from the dreams a day before? No, this wasn't coincidence. There was something going on here. Something more than just dreams. Whether it was good or not remained to be seen but she couldn't ignore the nagging in her gut that it wasn't.

It started as just a normal day for Nikki Hyun. She got up at 7:30am and was at school at 8:30am. She got her breakfast from the cafeteria and took it back to her classroom to eat. She turned in her homework. She paid attention in class, took a few notes, and completed her in-class assignments. She spent most of recess on the swings but did a few rounds on the monkey bars before the whistle blew. At 3pm, the bell rang and the children were dismissed. The bus riders headed to the busses, the car riders went to the front of the school to look for their parents and wait, and the walkers headed for home.

Nikki was a walker this year. It had taken a lot of work to convince her parents she was old enough to walk the two miles from her school to home every afternoon but she'd managed. She liked the walk. It gave her time to think and relax and make plans for the afternoon. Sometimes her friends walked with her. Most of the time they took the bus home. Today was one of those days.

She had no idea as she passed through Walton Park that she was being followed. They'd been watching her since she entered, anticipating the moment she would pass through a secluded area. She stopped at the playground to swing like she sometimes and they waited. She hopped off the swing, scooped up her backpack, and headed across the bridge over the creek.

Nikki moved aside for a cycler to pass and the moment he was over the bridge, they moved in. Alone, out of the view of the main road, and focused on her shoes, it was only too simple for them to surround her on the path.

She screamed, of course, but by the time anyone came looking, she was already gone.

It'd been a relatively normal day for Zack Arner, too. He woke up at 8am, ten minutes before the tardy bell rang, to find his mother had, once again, failed to come home last night. He lived a block from the middle school so he made it on time, accidentally leaving behind his homework, of course. So he got lunchtime detention, which he skipped. Then he decided to skip the rest of the day.

He stopped by his mother's work to check if she'd shown up yet. She had and when she saw her truant son standing in the doorway she simply remarked that he should be in school then went back to what she was doing. She didn't really care. But he couldn't get back into school even if he wanted to, their neighbor would call the police if she saw him go inside his house, and walking around in the open at this time of day would get the cops on his ass before he could blink. They were very serious skipping school in Bridgeton. So he retreated to Walton.

Zack got the feeling he was being watched as he wandered aimlessly around the park. It made him antsy but not enough that he wanted to leave. He figured it was probably some bum or maybe a fellow truant student. Whoever it was, he could take them. He used to be on the wrestling team, after all. But as time passed, the uneasy feeling grew and he quickened his pace, heading for the nearest exit.

When they realized he was about to escape, they made their move. He never stood half a chance. No one even noticed he'd been taken.

"He what?" Rose whispered.

Martha nodded grimly.

Rose swallowed and looked down at her empty hands. If she had the watch, she would've taken it out and held it close. It was one of the only forms of comfort she had and, based on the faint whispering from the watch, the soul within liked the closeness, too. But she didn't have the watch. So her eyes flicked instead to the piece of paper on the coffee table in front of them. The drawing she'd been given yesterday that had both amazed and horrified her.

John Smith dreamed of being the Doctor while the Doctor slept inside a fob watch. It was ironic. She almost laughed. Almost. Not quite.

Does he ever dream about me? She wondered.

"How long's this been going on?"

"Based on Violet's answer, since about the time we got here. He's been writing them all down a journal and reading them to Elliot, who then draws things from them."

"Like the wolf."

"A glowing, golden wolf," Martha corrected. She licked her lips thoughtfully. "I—Elliot knows who we are. I saw him, Rose. He was looking for something when he went through his sketchbook, he didn't just pick a drawing to give you at random."

"He'd never seen me before. How could he know who I am?"

Martha shrugged. "I don't know but why else would he have given you a glowing wolf?"

Rose sighed. "Okay, so one kid believes were the characters from a fairytale. I don't see the problem with this."

"He might tell John."

"Yeah, alright. You know John better than I do. Would he believe him?"

"No, he probably wouldn't."

Rose nodded. "And John…thinks they're just a story. You must've been his dreams by now. If he thought you were really one of the Doctor's companions he'd have mentioned it by now as a joke or something."

"Probably," she admitted. "I just…I feel bad for him. How's he gonna feel when he finds out his dreams are real and he isn't?"

Rose closed her eyes and bowed her head. She wanted to say she didn't care but she knew she did. She'd never hated John, just what he represented. His backstory might have been fabricated but everything in the last nine weeks had been real. All the smiles she'd seen, all the emotions he'd felt, weren't fake. And soon enough his life would have to end. To be honest, she had tried hard not to think about that part. It was one of the reasons she hadn't wanted to get to know him.

She resisted the urge to look at Martha because she had befriended him. She never called him the Doctor. It was always John. In fact, that was the first time she'd ever even implied he wasn't real.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "He's your friend, isn't he?"

"…Yeah."

"I'm sorry. I should've never asked you to be close to him. It should've been me."

Martha placed her hand over Rose's. "I'll be fine, Rose. If you want to know the truth, it's a lot like being friends with the Doctor. I know they're completely separate but our relationship was pretty identical. Besides, it's better that it was me. I know this whole thing with Violet isn't going to end well, but at least it wasn't you."

"It should've been."

"Probably," she agreed and leaned back against the couch. "He probably went in intending to love you even as a human."

"I told the TARDIS I didn't want that." Rose admitted. "That I didn't want to risk fallin' for his human self. I guess she could only do so much." She raised her head and frowned. "Never mind all this now. We've got to find the watch or we're never going to get the Doctor back at all. Or, even worse, someone will open it and he'll come back too soon. I'm surprised the watch hasn't been—" she stopped abruptly as something occurred to her.

Martha watched Rose's face shift from frustration to utter shock in the span of about two seconds. Her jaw dropped and she looked at the drawing of the wolf again. "Or…maybe it has," she whispered. "Martha, remember when I opened the watch for a few seconds?"

It'd been a rough day about two weeks in. She'd just wanted to hear his voice, she said. Martha had seen the watch begin to emit a golden light and panicked, slamming the thing shut before Rose could protest and then yelled at her about it for a good two minutes. As far as she knew, Rose hadn't opened it since. "Yes."

"What did it say, do you remember?"

Martha's brow furrowed in confusion. "It didn't say anything. There was just this light—"

Rose snapped her fingers, cutting her off. "Exactly! You didn't hear anything because you're not very telepathically receptive. That's why you can't talk to the TARDIS as easily as we can. When the Doctor talks from inside the watch, it's telepathic. It's got to be. He doesn't have a mouth to speak with; it's just his mind in there so that's what he uses. But the TARDIS is the only telepath I can understand easily and it's hard for me to hear him."

She shook her head in confusion. "Where are you going with this?"

"What if the watch was found by someone who could hear him even better than I can? Someone who opened the watch out of curiosity and was ordered to keep it closed?"

"You think a telepath found the watch. Maybe it was Elliot. It would explain the wolf."

Rose nodded. "Yes, it would. But why wouldn't he give me the watch instead?"

"Ah. Good point." She sighed heavily. "Well, one down…"

"And about several thousand more to go."

John arrived a little early and the casserole wasn't quite done but he said he didn't mind waiting. She'd told him to dress casual since it was just dinner and a movie at her house and, well, she wanted to see what he considered casual. He'd dressed fairly nice on their dates so far—usually a dress shirt and slacks, which is pretty much what he wore underneath his coat at work every day. So seeing him in jeans and a t-shirt was a nice change, one she could quickly learn to appreciate. He was very skinny, she knew, and the nearly skintight shirt really proved that, but she could also see more of his arms than ever bore and realized the strength hidden beneath his wiry form.

He brought a bouquet of a variety of flowers and a two-liter of Dr. Pepper. She'd half expected wine; he just seemed like that kind of guy. "I don't drink alcohol in the evenings when I have something important next day," he explained when she asked. "I learned that lesson back in school."

When the casserole was done, he watched as she showed him how to know when it was done and dished it onto a plate while she got the peas and carrots. She also retrieved two wine glasses from the back of the cabinet and poured Dr. Pepper into them, which made him laugh. She liked it his laugh. There was something about the way his entire body got into it, his face lighting up and his shoulders shaking.

They talked as they ate, discussing little things of no great importance, although she did mention seeing Martha at the store. "I'd keep an eye on her if I were you," she warned.

"Why's that?" he asked before taking another bite of casserole.

"I think she's the kind of girl who likes to help along relationships when they don't seem to be progressing."

He laughed and swallowed. "Yeah, I got that impression." He gestured to the bouquet, which now sat in a vase on the table. "She warned me off getting you violets."

"Remind me to thank her later."

He helped her clean up after dinner and put the leftover casserole into a container for him to take home later. She washed the dishes and he dried them and while they were at it, he suggested they play the favorites game. It was silly, she hadn't done it since her first boyfriend in high school, but she had to admit it was a good way to get to know each other. Some of his answers she filed away for later, like his favorite food being bananas, and currently number one on his bucket list was to attend the next Harry Potter midnight premier. Others surprised her, like his favorite word. When she asked, it had slipped out without hesitation and she hadn't understood it. When she asked him to repeat it, he had, slowly, looking confused.

"That's not English."

"No, it's Gallifreyan."

"Is that in Europe?

"Yes, it must be," he replied though he seemed unsure. "I don't think it exists anymore, though."

She could tell the subject was bothering him so she decided to move on. "What about your favorite comedy?"

"Hey, hang on. You didn't tell me your favorite word."

She thought about it for a moment. "Waffle. I just love the way it sounds. Wah-full. Favorite comedy?"

"The Muppet Movie. You can't go wrong with the Muppets."

"Loved that one growing up," she agreed. "But mine's The Santa Clause. "

"Never heard of it."

Violet's jaw dropped. "You're kidding."

He shook his head.

"Oh, well, that changes things!" She washed the soap off her hands and got the popcorn started. "I had another movie in mind but you can't go on never seeing this movie."

"What's it about?"

"Tim Allen's character kills Santa and becomes the new one."

John looked disturbed. "He kills Father Christmas to become him? That's a comedy?"

"No, no! He accidentally makes Santa fall off the roof and becomes the new Santa in his place. …Okay so there's a lot more to it than that but that's the basic gist. I'm not really good at summarizing things. It really is a great movie, though. Not morbid or anything."

"Alright, let's watch it."

He dumped the popcorn into a bowl and grabbed the Dr. Pepper; she grabbed two cups and pulled him into the living room. He sat down on the couch with the bowl and cups while she scanned her DVDs for the right one. "I only had this on VHS for the longest time but Liz finally got the DVD for me last Christmas."

Violet pulled The Santa Clause out of the rack and got it set up in the DVD player. "You want subtitles?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay." She pressed play on the remote then sat down next to him on the couch. He placed the popcorn bowl in his lap and settled back against the cushions.

He was laughing within the first ten minutes. She began to really notice the differences between his laughs. There was a light, but sharp exhale with an accompanying 'heh' when something was sort of funny; a range of slightly longer, shoulder shaking laughs when he thought something was funny; and her favorite, the laugh that made him double over or close his eyes, his entire body shaking as he roared with glee. She rewound parts of the movie three times just so he could see them and laugh again.

About halfway through the movie, at no real significant point, John suddenly put his arm around her. She was surprised for a moment and then shifted closer, resting her head on his shoulder. He was warm and comfortable and she decided right then that she never wanted to move. Near the end of the movie, he shifted, leaning down to press his lips against the top of her head. Violet stilled, unsure how to respond. She felt him tense behind her and after a moment, she nuzzled his shoulder with her head to show him it was okay. He relaxed, arm tightening around her, and she felt him smile against her hair.

When the movie was over and Santa and Christmas had been saved, John laughed quietly. "Not bad at all, that. Actually, it was pretty good."

She grinned. "Told you. There's a sequel, you know."

"Really?" He perked up and looked at her DVD shelf. "Do you have it?"

She made a face. "No."

"Oh. One of those rubbish sequels?"

"Kind of. It's a lot about the Mrs. Clause. C-l-a-u-s-e. He has to find a wife. But the villain is ridiculous and Charlie turned into a delinquent."

John arched his eyebrows. "Really? …I'd still like to see it."

"I don't have it. I could always get it from Blockbuster next time you come over. If you want to, I mean."

He smiled and leaned down, resting his forehead on hers. "So is that an invitation?"

"Mmhmm."

"Well, what if I invited you over to my flat instead and got the DVD myself?"

"That depends. Who's cooking?"

"I've got some delicious TV dinners and a tub of casserole."

Violet smiled. "Or…we could order pizza."

"That's a brilliant idea. Pizza and a movie at my place. How does Friday sound?"

"Not tomorrow?"

"Banquet dinner for the hospital."

"Oh, right. We're still going together, right?"

"Of course."

"Good. Friday it is, then." She grinned again and he bumped her nose playfully with his.

John Smith is dating Violet. The Doctor is hanging out in a watch. There is a difference peoples.