So... yes, another. Better get used to this. Apparently, it's how my brain functions now. Gets an idea, spits it out, gets bored, and starts another. Dunno how often updates on older material will happen [though you're more than willing to jump into the discord (.gg/KeMEe2F8eC) and harass me about updating things] but hope you enjoy this!

Also, yes. There will be a lot of similarities with my old Doctor Who story on my bored411 channel Alexander: The Seer and Changer of Time. Alex was meant to be a SI but at the time of writing, I was very much in a bad headspace, hence how much I tormented her and made her relationship with the Doctor a bad one. This is also a SI but more of who I am now. Headspace isn't as bad as it was and things won't be as chaotic but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. :)

General warnings: cursing, brief mentions of current events, depression/mental health

I frowned at the email on my screen, drumming my fingers on the near-empty soda bottle on the table beside my laptop. Idle chatter from the other guests in the café was drowned out by the music pumping through my headphones. An empty plate with a few bread crumbs from a sandwich was pushed away as I let out a frustrated groan under my breath.

"Dammit, again?" I bit out in annoyance before opening the file attached to the email and scowling at the edits added to my Word document.

I was trying to write my Master's thesis and had been for a while now. Trying to do so at home had become near impossible. My mind wouldn't allow me to sit at my desk and write it when family were making noise, arguments were being had, and the constant temptation of doing anything but writing. So, after months of procrastinating and a few friends calling me and asking about progress—as well as my graduate professor—I decided a change of location might be better.

It was, sort of. I had managed to write the next section that was expected of me and turned it in for review, but the downside of trying to write a thesis was the constant rewriting and editing. I got an email from the professor helping me write the previous chapter only to find it riddled with remarks and edits. It was the third time sending it in and every time I got it back, it felt like a slap to the face. Revise, revise, revise. Can't say this. Can't say that. Well, what can I say when no one has done this before?

I was beginning to regret my study topic the longer I tried to get this paper written. I had chosen something I was interested in—I worked with dogs for years and it felt right to study them—but I had also chosen something not really looked at until now. It made finding papers difficult and trying to explain the lack of attention toward my topic was apparently something I couldn't put in my thesis. Not living in Ireland—where my study was focused—made it even harder. Good luck trying to study archaeological evidence of dog bones in the past when I can't access them from another country.

I dropped my head back with a heavy sigh before shutting my computer down and abandoning the thesis for later. I packed up my laptop and gave the staff a nod of thanks when I returned their plate to the counter, stepping out onto the sidewalk. I might have to rethink doing a Ph.D. in Ireland if I'm not careful. The professor I want to work with might retire before I finish this damn thing and—while I like writing as a hobby—I wonder if I can make a living doing this. Writing reports and papers… It's either that or teaching and I hate public speaking. I pressed my fingers against my eyelids and ran my hand down my face as I walked. I just want to enjoy digs but I know that's not exactly how things work.

I stumbled then, nearly falling and somehow steadying myself, turning to scowl down at what I'd tripped over. I hadn't noticed the warmth of the California sun disappearing as I reached down and picked up the strangely shaped metal object, turning it over with a frown.

"Who the hell leaves shit like this lying around?" I complained, looking around before spotting a bin nearby and heading for it. "Not like the bin was far away."

I went to toss it but stopped, brows furrowing as I realized something was wrong. For one, it had been sunny; the usual for the southern portion of California. Now, it was overcast and slightly windy, but what really threw me off was the loud droning that cut through my headphones. I reached up my empty left hand and pulled them down, looking toward the source of the noise, half expecting a low-flying plane. What I saw instead, made my eyes widen and my mouth drop open in shock before I ducked.

The ship flew overhead, bouncing off the clock tower in the distance and crash-landing into the river. My mind was spinning as people nearby cried out; some rushing toward the ship and others away from it. For one thing, a goddamn spaceship just fell out of the sky. H-How? How the fuck… I looked at the clock tower as pieces of it dropped down to the ground below, and then I glanced over at the river. Neither existed where I lived. The closest thing there was to a river was the concrete L.A. River which was usually near empty all year round, and there sure as hell wasn't any clock tower.

The longer I looked, the more differences I saw. The buildings, the apartments, the shops, and the people. I was in the UK somewhere, though the giant clock tower kind of gave it away. London? But how… how did I…? I stumbled back a bit before turning and retracing my steps back to the cafe. It was still there, but it wasn't the same. The staff was different, the menu changed, and the guests who'd rushed out to see the commotion were speaking with British accents. I wasn't in California at all and what happened—what was happening—didn't make any sense.

I turned away from the gathering of annoyed drivers and people who were being blocked off even this far from the crash site and tried to put some distance between me and it. My mind was spinning and I felt a bit nauseous as I tried to figure this all out. I-I'm not home, obviously. I was at that cafe doing my thesis a-and then I stepped out. I didn't feel any different. I tripped over that thing and then—I lifted my hand to look at the scrap of metal I hadn't thrown away in my shock but it was gone, and what surprised me was the intricate black and gold lines trailing up my fingers and hand.

I stopped and yanked up my hoodie sleeve, eyes wide at the tattoo-like markings that trailed up my arm. I scrambled to pull my hoodie off and found they stopped about mid-bicep, twisting my arm around in stunned confusion.

"What the hell…" I breathed, knowing that—while I wanted more tattoos other than just the dog skull and trowel on my right shoulder—this wasn't something I'd gotten done.

A chill breeze had me tugging my hoodie back on as the confusion grew and I moved to lean against a wall and drag my hand over my face. I-I need to think. I was in California, in a cafe, and now I'm in Britain with a crashed spaceship…

"This doesn't make any sense," I groaned in frustration as a headache began to form behind my eyes. "You don't just pop to different countries like that. This isn't some backrooms game o-or instantaneous dimension travel where I just happened to step through a-a door into another place. That doesn't explain anything. There's a goddamn spaceship a-and I suddenly have a new tattoo. What the hell happened?"

I dug a hand through my pocket and pulled out my phone, trying to check the time but the screen remained black, making me frown. I tried again and even tried turning it off and on again but the phone was completely unresponsive. Not even the Apple logo? I was charging it at the café. I shook my head and put it back, pushing off the wall and picking a direction to walk in. I had no real destination and didn't know much of anything about the layout of London. I was hoping to come across somewhere with a phone I could use or an ATM. I had only American dollars on me and knew that those wouldn't work.

The ATM I soon found though refused my card which just frustrated me further. I wandered back toward where the crash was—or the blocked-off roads, anyway—and found somewhere to sit. I was hoping my laptop might work and was relieved when it did and I could connect to the local wifi. I tried to get onto my social media accounts or Discord or anything but they were gone. My login didn't work for any of them and I noticed that my laptop itself was missing a lot of things. It was like half of it had been wiped. Pictures were missing, games, my backgrounds, and files. My thesis work remained—of course, I couldn't ever be rid of that damn paper haunting me—some pictures of my pets were left, making my heart ache for a moment before I turned to the internet.

Nothing… it's all conspiracy theories about the ship that crashed. I searched through some articles for anything with more information but there was nothing. I tried looking myself up online and there was nothing. The knot in my throat was growing with every dead end I ran into until I stopped. A date caught my attention at the top of an article. March 5th, 2006? It's an old article but… My eyes scanned the information and scrolled down to see the comments that were labeled as though they'd been posted only minutes ago. My chest clenched and I looked at the bottom corner of my laptop where the same date stared back at me.

"No fucking way," I breathed, shutting the computer down and stuffing it back into my backpack that I slung over my shoulder before finding the nearest person. "Sorry! Sorry, excuse me?"

The woman turned away from where she'd been leaning over a railing to try and see down the river Thames to answer me. "Yes?"

"C-Could you tell me the date?"

"It's March 5th."

I winced, hating how stupid this might sound. "The year?"

She raised a brow but answered. "2006."

"Right… Right, um, thanks."

She turned away with a mutter of "tourists" under her breath as I stepped back from the crowded streets once more. People were finally scattering a bit now that the sun was set, but I wasn't really paying attention to that as I wandered into a sidestreet and sank down to the ground; pulling off my backpack and resting my back against the smooth wood behind me. I sat silently for a while, just trying to soak in what I knew before muttering under my breath.

"I-I was in a café in California in 2023 and now… now it's 2006 and I'm in London… and a spaceship crashed into the Thames?" I dropped my head into my hands, tugging on my hair. "How does this even happen? I don't even come up in an internet search. There's no way I just went back in time 17 years. I would have remembered a spaceship crashing in London. So, what?"

I slowly lifted my head with a frown. Alternate universe? It's ridiculous, really. Sci-fi nonsense or a fanfic writer's wet dream. I groaned, folding my arms over my knees and dropping my forehead against them.

"What now?" I whined in complaint as my stomach growled—my sandwich and soda having been hours ago by now.

Food… water probably. I have no money unless I can exchange the few dollars I have. No identification that's valid here and… and if I don't exist online then what are the chances I don't exist here at all? That would make going to an American Embassy a problem though the temptation was still there. I had nothing but what I had with me: a laptop, a broken phone, notebooks, pens and pencils, and a few books on archaeology and dogs in the past. None of it would be useful. Especially for a thesis that isn't due until 17 years from now possibly in another universe.

I shivered again at a breeze and begrudgingly got up to find some shelter for the night at the very least. The panic from before had faded into a more downtrodden depression that made my legs feel like lead but I pushed through it and grabbed my things. I stepped away from the blue wood I'd been leaning on, not really paying attention to it until the door suddenly opened. It was a box, after all. A big, blue police box and from it stepped out a trio of people that made me nearly drop my things to the floor.

A man in a leather jacket blinked curiously at me as I gaped back in shock. Behind him was a blonde woman who peered around his shoulder curiously and following her, a darker-skinned man who looked worried. My mind had screeched to a halt though at the familiar faces and when it started back up again, the wrong thing tumbled out of my mouth.

"Fuck."

The man frowned in disgust at the slur. "Now, that's not very nice."

I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks but before I could gather myself enough to stumble through an apology, we were lit up by a helicopter spotlight.

"Do not move!" Someone shouted as I immediately held up my hands and my bag with the rush of approaching military and police. "Step away from the box and raise your hands above your heads!"

The leather-clad man raised a brow at me as he slowly raised his and the armed men drew closer. "Bit fast to surrender there."

"I'm American," I blurted out uneasily. "I don't like being shot, thanks."

He hummed as though that was something unexpected as my brain spun like a top. It's the Doctor. It has to be. This isn't some joke with Eccleston acting like him. 2006 and a crashing ship. This is the Slitheen episode. It's been a while since I watched anything but… God 2006? Sorry for growing up around gun violence and feeling that cooperation is my best shot at not causing trouble. A soldier grabbed my bag and I instantly told him what was in it as he went to search it and another pat me down briefly.

The Doctor looked thrilled to be arrested though, asking to be taken to their leader before the three of us—Mickey took off when the helicopter showed up—were packed into a sleek black car. My backpack was given back and I clung to it like a lifeline, still trying to keep calm when everything was starting to get a bit overwhelming. Fanfic writer's wet dream it is. I'm in Doctor Who somehow. What the hell? What am I supposed to do? I'm not stupid. I know how the butterfly effect works but… but I read too many fanfics to assume the Doctor will be okay with it.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye as he grinned at Rose. I should leave. I should get as far away from him as I can but… but then what? I'm a universal anomaly. I don't exist. I can't get a job, don't have anywhere to stay... I went from a promising, young archaeologist trying to finish their Master's to… to a homeless person in the wrong country? I… I don't want that. I'd go mad. I can barely handle a few hours of boredom, much less spend the rest of my life here scouring for food and warmth. But… would he take me? Would… Would I be able to keep my mouth shut and not change anything if he did?

His eyes met mine then and I flushed, hastily looking away out of shame at being caught staring.

"So, what's an American like you doing here, hm?" He asked curiously. "Tourist on vacation? School trip?"

I opened my mouth to respond and hesitated before finally muttering an answer. "I'm just… lost."

He raised a brow, unconvinced but Rose leaned forward and interjected.

"What's your name then? I'm Rose and this is the Doctor. Sorry you got caught up in all this."

I'm really not good at these sorts of social situations. "Asher," I said quietly, catching the slight widening of the Doctor's eyes. "Asher Watkins."

His reaction was suspicious but I wasn't exactly in the right place or mindset to question it as the car pulled to a halt in front of 10 Downing Street. I shrank at the sight of the flashing cameras and pulled my hood up as the other two exited and I hurried after them, doing my best to stare at nothing but the back of the Doctor's legs. Once inside, it wasn't much better. It was like I was back in high school at a friend's party where I didn't know half the people. I don't want to be here.

I spotted a familiar face though, eyes latching onto Harriet Jones MP Flydale North as she moved through the crowd looking a bit pale and flustered by what she'd undoubtedly just witnessed. My memory of the show was spotty at best. It had been years since I watched anything with 10, 11, or 12 and even longer since 9, who was the biggest struggle for me to enjoy early on. I kept up with the newer Doctor as well and up to date with news of the next ones coming in but it didn't make everything crystal clear.

I remember the Slitheen electrocuting people from their name tags, Rose and Harriet running from one, Jackie being in trouble, and a closet and missile. I know there's more to the episode than that but unless something jogs my memory that's it. I winced then, turning my gaze down at my bag clutched against my chest. Why am I thinking about it though? I can't change anything. My memories are not helpful at all and there's no point in trying to run or hide if this is the Doctor Who universe. The whole place is dangerous and… well, as much as dying isn't on my list of things to do, it would be nice to… to impress the Doctor even a little. He won't take me otherwise.

I watched as the Doctor walked through a door and left Rose and me with Harriet. I have to prove myself somehow though if I don't want to be stuck here alone. I just…

"I need to be careful," I murmured under my breath as Harriet led us away and I gave one last look over my shoulder where the Doctor had gone.

Harriet broke down crying and I fidgetted uneasily as Rose glanced at me. Neither of us really knew what to do about her tears, though I at least had a vague understanding of why she was upset. Once she'd calmed down some, she led us into the cabinet room and pulled out a human flesh suit from the closet. I grimaced, turning away from the corpse—because that's what it was at the end of the day, a corpse—as she draped it over a chair and explained what happened.

"They turned the body into a suit. A disguise for the thing inside!"

Rose comforted her again. "It's all right. I believe you. It's, it's alien. They must have some serious technology behind this. If we could find it, we could use it," she explained, looking around the room as I tried to stop her.

"H-Hold on. Use it for what? We can't just walk into their conference with a corpse. You really think anyone's going to believe it was something alien?"

"A ship just crashed into the Thames," she scoffed, heading for another closet. "Pretty sure they'll at least consider it."

A full body fell out of it just in time for the man from the entrance to come in complaining.

"Harriet, for God's sake. This has gone beyond a joke. You cannot just wander—Oh, my God. That's the Prime Minister!" He blurted out, looking at us accusingly, as I had thought.

No point in trying to say we didn't do it. I grit my teeth, only for a heavier-set woman to walk into the doorway with a coo.

"Ooh, has someone been naughty?"

My eyes widened, remembering she was one of the Slitheen and I grabbed the man's wrist and tugged him back, muttering under my breath. "W-We need to run. Now."

"That's impossible," he said instead, only taking half a step back as the woman closed the door. "He left this afternoon. The Prime Minister left Downing Street. He was driven away!"

"And who told you that, hmm? Me," she hummed, reaching up to her hairline as I pulled him harder.

"Move! She's alien! It's a trap!"

Harriet hesitated but Rose didn't, grabbing her and pulling her as the woman began to emerge from her suit.

"O-Oh my God," the man I had grabbed breathed as we reached the end of the table separating us from the woman.

"Nowhere to run!" She hummed, no longer wearing the skin suit and facing us as a huge, green, baby-faced alien creature with long claws for fingers.

"She's right. Only door is behind her," Rose muttered as I swallowed thickly, eyeing the chairs and knowing I could risk throwing one to buy some time but waiting as the Slitheen edged closer.

But I shouldn't have to. The Doctor electrocutes the one and it transfers to the rest, right…? I hope… She was getting too close though and I bit out a curse, grabbing the chair closest and throwing it. She easily knocked it aside with her heavy claws, snarling at me only for the electricity to finally kick in. She screeched as she was shocked and I shoved the man past her with the others quickly following. We ran down the hall but Harriet stopped us.

"No, wait. They're still in there. The emergency protocols. We need them!"

"We can get them on the way back!" I argued, grabbing her instead as the man rushed off without stopping. "Come on!"

I didn't see the man again as we ran around and hoped he had gotten away alright. I wasn't able to think much at all in this sort of tense situation as the Slitheen battered down doors trying to get after us. There was a point where she nearly had us but a lift dinged and the Doctor appeared for half a second, allowing us to get away.

"Hide!" Rose hissed as we hit yet another dead-end room.

I had the feeling it wouldn't work as I pushed Rose and Harriet toward the curtains and I hid behind a cabinet. My breaths sounded loud in my ears and there was a painful stitch in my side. I-I need to get in shape. Running was never my strong suit. My breath hitched in my throat when I heard the Slitheen enter, her voice a warbled gurgle from the other side of my cabinet.

"Oh, such fun. Little human children, where are you? Sweet little human kins, come to me. Let me kiss you better. Kiss you with my big, green lips." There was a pause then as the footfalls of more Slitheen came through the door. "My brothers."

"Happy hunting?"

"Wonderful. The more you prolong it the more they stink."

"Sweat and fear."

"I can smell an old girl. Stale bird and brittle bones."

"And a ripe youngster, all hormones and adrenalin. Fresh enough to bend before she snaps."

There was a scream then as Rose was caught behind the curtain and Harriet rushed out, asking to be taken first while I pressed my back further into the cabinet, heart racing and the fear of being caught overriding any thought of heroics. I don't want to die here. Not like this. Still, it felt wrong to sit there not doing anything and I bit my tongue hard, using the pain to push me past the hint of fear before grabbing one of the glass decanters on the top of the cabinet. I threw it at the Slitheen closest to Rose just as the door burst open and the Doctor sprayed them all with a fire extinguisher.

"Out! With me!" He shouted over their complaints and the glass shattering.

Rose pulled the curtain down over the Slitheen I'd hit as we rushed toward the Doctor who glanced at Harriet in confusion.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Harriet Jones, MP for Flydale North."

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he hummed, using up what was left before we ran out. "We need to get to the Cabinet Room."

"The emergency protocols are in there," Harriet agreed. "They give instructions for aliens."

"I-It's a bit late for instructions, don't you think?" I panted as the Doctor rolled his eyes.

"Oh, positive one, aren't ya?"

"I'm a realist," I grumbled, the three of us ducking past him into the Cabinet Room as he grabbed a decanter of alcohol and pointed his sonic at it—stopping the three Slitheen who'd caught up.

"One more move and my sonic device will triplicate the flammability of this alcohol. Whoof, we all go up. So back off," the Doctor commanded and they took a small step back, cautious of his threat. "Right then, question time. Who exactly are the Slitheen?"

"They're aliens," Harriet answered, earning an eye roll from the Doctor as I held my side with a scoff.

"Obviously."

"Who are you, if not human?" A Slitheen questioned back, surprising Harriet as she looked over at Rose.

"Who's not human?"

"He's not human," she replied, nodding to the Doctor who shushed them.

"Can I have a bit of hush?"

"Sorry."

"So, what's the plan?" He asked the aliens but Harriet interrupted again.

"But he's got a Northern accent."

"Maybe he just sounds Northern to us," I sighed. "Does that really matter right now?"

"I agree. Hush," the Doctor chided again, turning back to his questioning. "Come on. You've got a spaceship hidden in the North Sea. It's transmitting a signal. You've murdered your way to the top of government. What for, invasion?"

"Why would we invade this God-forsaken rock?" One scoffed.

"Then, something's brought the Slitheen race here. What is it?"

"The Slitheen race?"

"Slitheen is not our species. Slitheen is our surname. Jocrassa Fel Fotch Pasameer-Day-Slitheen at your service."

"Oh, look, polite deadly aliens," I muttered sarcastically under my breath. "Fucking brilliant."

I went ignored, of course.

"So you're a family," the Doctor hummed.

"A family business."

"Then, you're out to make a profit. How can you do that on a 'God-forsaken rock'?"

"Ah, excuse me," one stopped him, gesturing to the alcohol. "Your device will do what? Triplicate the flammability?"

"Is that what I said?" The Doctor smiled innocently.

"You're making it up."

"Ah, well. Nice try. Harriet, have a drink. I think you're gonna need it," he hummed, offering the decanter to her but she didn't take it.

"You pass it to the left first."

"Sorry."

It was offered to me and I begrudgingly took it, popping off the cap and taking a sniff before wrinkling my nose.

"Yeah, no. If it tastes as alcoholic as it smells, I'd rather not."

I placed it down on the table behind us as the Slitheen in the doorway grinned eagerly.

"Now we can end this hunt with a slaughter."

"Don't you think we should run?" Rose breathed, not liking the sound of that, but the Doctor didn't move.

"Fascinating history, Downing Street. Two thousand years ago, this was marshland. 1730, it was occupied by a Mister Chicken. He was a nice man. 1796, this was the Cabinet Room. If the Cabinet's in session and in danger, these are about the four most safest walls in the whole of Great Britain. End of lesson." He reached over, opened a panel I hadn't seen and pressed a button that locked down the room with steel doors. "Installed in 1991. Three inches of steel lining every single wall. They'll never get in."

"And how do we get out?" Rose countered, making him realize his error.

"Ah…"

I sank into a seat at the table with the others as the Doctor went about moving the corpse of the PM into the nearby closet. Despite my previous thoughts on the alcohol offered, I'd poured myself a bit and the glass sat in front of me waiting as I stared at it silently with dead eyes. I wasn't really listening to the others talk; my mind focused on other things.

I'm in another universe. One that I know of and currently with people I know of. People whose futures were shown to me but who are very real right now. This isn't a dream. I'm not imagining this and I'm not stupid enough to disillusion myself into thinking so. That would put my life at risk. More so than it already is.

I dropped my forehead onto my interlocked fingers, elbows on the table, and tried to work out what to do. What can I do? I change anything and it risks the future being altered. I could literally destroy this universe if I save the wrong person or cause someone to get hurt because of me. I lifted my head slightly, peering over at the Doctor as he spoke with the other two about our situation with the Slitheen. What's worse is if he finds out. What would he do once he knows how much I know about him and his future? Fanfics don't exactly paint a pretty picture of such a situation.

I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to groan and dropping my head again. So, what? I leave after this and try to go about life homeless? I doubt I would make it far like that. Going with the Doctor risks him finding out though. I'm decent at lying but long-term? I'll slip up eventually. Telling him right off would be better but… then what? He refuses to take me? He locks me away? He blames me for everything that goes wrong? Like, what are the chances he's actually fine with it and lets me come while trusting me to keep my mouth shut and not change things?

What are the chances I don't change things? My mind argued, knowing I might do so accidentally or even on purpose depending on the situation and my thoughts about it. As it was, I felt something had already gone wrong but I couldn't put my finger on it. Not being a huge fan of the 9th Doctor was definitely coming back to bite me in the ass now that I was experiencing his episodes firsthand. I don't know. I just… I need to focus on the here and now. I don't even know if he'll take me with him or even offer. I'll probably regret this, but later me will have to deal with what to do next when I get there.

I reached for the alcohol and took a sip before grimacing and pushing the glass away. Nope. Regret. The alcohol taste is too much. God, what I wouldn't give for a bramble.

"What about you, Asher?" The Doctor's voice finally cut through my thoughts, drawing my gaze quickly to him. "You've been awfully quiet."

"Sorry," I muttered, embarrassed to have not been paying attention and contributing to what they were discussing. "I've just been… trying to work through some things, is all. Sorry."

He eyed me for a moment before grinning as though everything was fine. "Nah. Three people walk out of a police box, you get arrested and taken to Downing Street, big aliens out of nowhere? You're handling it well enough, I think."

I certainly didn't feel like I was but didn't argue as he went on.

"Just wondering what you thought about what the Slitheen were after."

"Money?" I offered poorly.

"Obviously. I meant what they want to use on Earth."

I shrugged. "It's a big, molten rock at the end of the day. Fuel? Souvenir? Slave planet? I don't know what aliens want but they don't seem too keen on us. Could just nuke it and sell the parts."

He hummed, thinking it over before a phone went off and Rose answered. It was useless to try and use it for help when the so-called "alien experts" were dead but Mickey had reached out and sent a photo of a Slitheen that wasn't here in Downing Street. Rose tried then to have a conversation with Mickey about her mom, but the Doctor felt he had a better use for Mickey and snatched the phone; ordering him to get to a computer.

He then hooked the phone up to a speaker at the center of the table, giving him instructions on where to go to hack into the military database while also working out what the plan was.

"Big Ben. Why did the Slitheen go and hit Big Ben?" The Doctor asked us.

"You said to gather experts, to kill them," Harriet supplied.

"That lot would've gathered for a weather balloon. You don't need to crash land in the middle of London."

"It's kind of like 9/11, isn't it?" I spoke up, drawing their gazes.

"9/11?"

I slowly nodded. "Yeah. Plane hit the Twin Towers in the US. Terrorist attack. It was an attack on the country as a whole. Big landmark being targeted could cause an all-out war."

He frowned, considering it before his eyes widened. "Oh. Oh! You're brilliant, you are!" He beamed, startling me with praise.

"O-Okay?"

"I've got a question if you don't mind," Jackie interrupted though before he could explain what I'd done to be brilliant in the Doctor's eyes. "Since that man walked into our lives, I have been attacked in the streets. I have had creatures from the pits of hell in my own living room, and my daughter disappears off the face of the Earth."

Rose rolled her eyes. "I told you what happened."

"I'm talking to him," she countered. " 'Cause I've seen this life of yours, Doctor. And maybe you get off on it, and maybe you think it's all clever and smart, but you tell me. Just answer me this. Is my daughter safe?"

"I'm fine," Rose grumbled.

"Is she safe? Will she always be safe? Can you promise me that?"

"No one can promise that," I complained quietly. "Accidents happen. She could get stung by a bee and die tomorrow. Why's that make it his fault?"

Jackie probably didn't hear me—I'd get an earful if she did—but I stiffened when I caught eyes with the Doctor, who'd heard. Thankfully, Mickey interrupted and cut through the tension.

"I'm in."

The Doctor was grateful too and instructed him on a few more things. The Slitheen were sending out a signal he was trying to decipher before shit hit the fan. The Slitheen had caught up with Jackie and Mickey then and was trying to break in. The Doctor was panicking himself trying to figure out a way to stop the creature when he didn't even know what it was. He was quick to regain a level head though, looking to us for help.

"Right, If we're going to find their weakness, we need to find out where they're from. Which planet? So, judging by their basic shape, that narrows it down to five thousand planets within traveling distance. What else do we know about them? Information!"

"They're green," Rose said as he nodded.

"Yup, narrows it down."

"Good sense of smell."

"The ship they had? Whatever type it was?" I tried and he nodded as we gave him anything we could figure out until he finally had one species left.

"Calcium phosphate. Organic calcium. Living calcium. Creatures made out of living calcium. What else? What else? Hyphenated surname. Yes! That narrows it down to one planet. Raxacoricofallapatorius!"

"Oh, yeah. Great. We could write them a letter," Mickey scoffed before they were told to get into the kitchen and find vinegar.

Whatever they found did the trick and the group relaxed and had a toast before I fidgeted, glancing at the Doctor.

"What did you mean before?"

"Hm?" He hummed.

"When you… When you said I was brilliant. The 9/11 thing."

His grin returned as he pointed at me. "Because you are. You said it yourself. Why not nuke the planet? They're obviously not fond. They made all this noise though, dropped aliens right slap bang in the middle of things. Put the planet under threat and when they're under threat—"

"They go to war," I concluded and he snapped his fingers and nodded.

"Bingo."

"War? With who!" Harriet asked, stunned.

"Who else? The rest of the universe."

"But we can't exactly reach them," I countered. "Can't just shoot a nuke straight up, hope it breaks atmosphere and hits something."

"Yeah, but with the Slitheen in charge, they don't have to. All it takes is a lie about something being there. You lot release the codes and they just turn the nukes on the other countries. They retaliate, fight back. World War Three. Whole planet gets nuked."

"But why?" Harriet asked.

"Profit. As Asher said, they don't care about the people, just the rock. That's what the signal is. An advert." He looked angry as he got up, walking to the door as Mickey confirmed our thoughts via an announcement from the disguised Slitheen speaking to the public on his tv.

The Doctor opened the metal blockade to face the female Slitheen standing outside back in her skin suit.

"You're destroying the planet for profit."

She smirked. "The sale of the century. We reduce the Earth to molten slag, then sell it piece by piece. Radioactive chucks, capable of powering every cut-price star liner and budget cargo ship. There's a recession out there, Doctor. People are buying cheap. This rock becomes raw fuel."

"At the cost of five billion lives."

"Bargain."

He took a breath, holding back a calm sort of anger. "I give you a choice. Leave this planet or I'll stop you."

"What, you? Trapped in your box?" She scoffed.

Without skipping a beat, the Doctor nodded. "Yes. Me."

It was hardly a threat given our current situation but there was something about how he said it that made her smirk fall when the door was closed. The Doctor came back to the table as everyone began searching for a way to fix this, but my eyes were fixed on the Doctor. He didn't say a word until he finally huffed.

"There's a way out."

All eyes whipped to him.

"There's always been a way out."

"Then why don't we use it?" Rose questioned and the Doctor turned his gaze to the phone on the table.

"Because I can't guarantee your daughter will be safe."

"Don't you dare," Jackie threatened. "Whatever it is, don't you dare."

"That's the thing, if I don't, everyone dies."

"Do it," Rose said easily, drawing his attention.

"You don't even know what it is. You'd just let me?"

"Yeah."

Jackie began begging and I frowned.

"Why are you arguing?" I complained. "She could die either way except this has at least a chance of survival. Wouldn't you rather your daughter go out the way she wants? It would be her life saving a billion others. She'd be a hero, for one thing, but I'm sure it's a million times better than dying from a nuke."

"Who the hell are you?" She snapped and I huffed, grumbling under my breath as I turned away from the phone.

"Someone with a little less selfishness apparently."

The Doctor thankfully stepped in before we could go any further. "The point is, Jackie, this is my life. It's not fun, it's not smart, it's just standing up and making a decision because nobody else will."

"Then, what are you waiting for?" Rose pressed and he paused, glancing at her with a fondness that made my chest tight.

It felt like I was invading a private moment and, silently, I wondered if he would be fond of me at all or if he would ignore me like the billions of other boring people on the planet. Rose had impressed him from day one. I hadn't done anything more than be at the wrong place and wrong time. No. Stop. We're not going to do this right now. Focus.

Things had already happened while I'd been distracted by my thoughts. The Doctor had accepted Harriet's order to go through with his plan and Mickey was plowing through digital security to send a missile toward us. Once it was launched, no one was really sure what we would do.

"How solid are these?" Harriet asked, eyeing the walls and metal doors.

"Not solid enough. Built for short-range attack, nothing this big."

"Could we ride through it?" I asked, drawing attention to myself. "Like for tornados, you should get in a tub. Earthquake you go under door frames."

Rose nodded. "She's right. The cupboard is small, so it's strong. Come on and help me. Come on."

I got up to help her and Harriet move the body and whatever other things were in there as the Doctor helped Mickey keep the missile path clear. Then, we all tucked ourselves in and hoped for the best.

"Here we go. Nice knowing you all," Harriet murmured as we braced for impact.

I grimaced as the cupboard jerked and rolled with the blast, banging my head on the wall and falling into the Doctor's back. Everything settled after a moment and the Doctor got up, opening the steel door that had helped keep us safe as Harriet rushed out to try and explain what happened.

"I thought I knew the name. Harriet Jones, future Prime Minister. Elected for three successive terms. The architect of Britain's Golden Age," the Doctor hummed as I rubbed my throbbing head and clambered out of the cupboard myself.

"Yeah, might want to watch her though. Power makes people stupid," I complained, remembering she'd caused a mess for him later on with the Sycorax invasion.

"I won't argue that," he replied as we made our way out of the rubble and away from where reporters were beginning to gather.

We got back to the flats and where the Tardis was parked—I don't know how I didn't realize what it was before—and Rose rushed off to see her mom while the Doctor and I stood awkwardly outside.

"You alright?" He asked and I stopped rubbing at the back of my head.

"Oh, yeah. Just a bump. Annoying, is all."

"I meant with all this," he clarified, heading for the Tardis doors to unlock them. "You're awfully calm, given the whole being arrested, running from aliens, and nearly dying from a missile."

"Oh, no. I'm not calm," I countered, holding up my shaking hands. "R-Really. Internally panicking, I swear."

He cracked a small smile. "Well, certainly more level-headed than I'd expect for a first-timer."

I frowned, going to ask what he meant but he slipped inside the Tardis. Thing is, he left the door cracked open. I stared at it, shifting my weight back and forth. I really wanted to go in and I almost felt like this was him teasing me about it too. Still, I hesitated, even as I edged closer. Do I really want this? Do I really want to get involved in what the Doctor does? I could die… or, I could not. I groaned, knowing that there was no point in really trying to mentally debate about it. I knew what I wanted.

So, I reached out and pushed the handle, grumbling in annoyance as I stepped into the ship.

"I hope you know how mean it is to—Woah!"

I stumbled, feeling as though someone had grabbed my right arm and yanked it rather hard. I scowled after catching myself, ready to get annoyed with the Doctor for jerking me around except… well, except he wasn't there. That, and I wasn't there.

"Hold on. What the hell?"

The Tardis was gone as were the Powell Estates. All there was was sand, rocks, and smoke drifting out of the nearby cliff face; embedded in which, was yet another crashed ship.

"You have got to be kidding me."