Welcome!

"I'll be back home in an hour" a short woman with dark brown curly hair says into her phone. She hangs up and puts it in her pocket.

It is 3:00 in the afternoon.

The woman's name is Marion Henson. She is wrong. She is not wrong on purpose. She does legitimately intend to be home in an hour. She won't be. But this is not her fault.

Today is a Friday, and she has no classes today. She has spent most of the day washing and folding clothes, cleaning the kitchen and going through her closet to determine which sweaters do and do not spark joy. Having a cleaner, more organized house is good for one's mental health. She knows someone told her that at some point. Also, she is supposed to have guests.

Some friends are coming over to her apartment, and she wants to take a quick walk before they do. Unfortunately, she's been feeling a little nauseous all day and her headache isn't helping matters. She thinks it might be because of the cleaning supplies she used. (She's wrong.) Marion and her friends are meeting to beta-test the Doctor Who Powered by the Apocalypse table-top system they've been working on via Discord. She knows from experience that she's a bad DM when she's feeling sick and she doesn't want to have to cancel. Her friends have been looking forward to this and she has no idea when they'll be able to meet up in person next.

She hopes that the 25-minute walk in the nice (if not problematic) 60-degree winter air will be enough to make her feel a bit better. If it doesn't, well she'll just pick up some ginger ale and Advil at the convenience store.

Or at least she will if she makes it there. But she won't make it there. This is for the best

It's 3:15.

She's halfway to the store when she feels something brushing against her arm. Or at least she thinks she does (she does). She turns to see if anyone is there (there isn't).

'Must've been a branch or something.' she thinks to herself. She knows that that can't be right (it isn't). There was only one bush that could've brushed her like that, but the family that moved in there a month and a half ago had trimmed it down.

But still, she can't think of anything else it could be so she decides to keep moving and not think about it at all. (This is how she handles a great many upsetting things.)

She comes to a fork in the road. She can either continue on the sidewalk or walk through the woods on the edge of the park. She picks the park path. It's nice outside, and because it's supposed to be about 20 degrees colder than it actually is, there will likely be fewer bugs then it would during the time of year it's supposed to be this warm out.

Also, it's slightly faster.

As she's walking, she continues to feel something brush on her arm. It's 3:18. She convinces herself that it's just trees. 'Even if it's some quick-moving weirdo, I can take 'em', she thinks. If a person did come at her, she probably could. Ever since the incident back in camp when she was 8, she's gotten an interest in martial arts and could hold her own against most people.

At the age of 8, Marion attended a summer camp in DC. There was a boy in the camp who had spent the previous month taking judo lessons. Like most 9-year-old boys, he wanted to show off. He invited people to grab his wrist. Marion, who had always been of the curious sort, did indeed.

When she was 8, she got back up, slightly jarred, but interested. At the end of the day, when her dad picked her up at 23rd street, she got in his blue Saturn, and with her eyes shining like Axinite she said "Dad, can I do martial arts camp next week!"

She shifts so that her messenger bag is in one arm and she's holding the strap with her other hand. She's concerned, but not anxious.

It's 3:19. No one is in the woods but her.

She wants to keep moving but suddenly, she is unable to. That "brush" against her arm is no longer a brush. Someone is holding onto her upper wrist. She turns, planning to grab whoever grabbed her by the forearm, flip them over her shoulder, and then run to a more populated area. However, when she reaches out, she doesn't grab anything. She still feels like someone's holding onto her arm and keeping her in place. What happened all those years ago felt much like what was happening to her now. A tug on the wrist, then a yank on the shoulder, then everything shifting suddenly, and finally, a hard slam on the ground. "What the actual f-"

She does not finish her sentence because whatever grabbed her arm suddenly tugs and she falls backward.

It's 3:20 No one is in the woods.

Marion had always said jokingly to her friends, "When I disappear under mysterious circumstances. Make sure I'm discussed exclusively by teen girls with true crime podcasts. I wish for them to write my legacy," Who knows if she got her wish, but she did in fact disappear. At least from her universe's point of view anyway. But that universe is none of Marion's concern anymore.

"-UCK" Marion shouted. That was not the beginning of that sentence. She felt her body hit the ground and realized that her eyes had closed. When she opened them, she was quite confused by what she saw.

It should be noted that the forest near Marion's home was rather large. It was filled with birch and oak and dogwood and a couple of cherry blossom trees that someone had gotten from transplanting cuttings from the D.C. festival. The forest was for the most part quiet, but she could sometimes hear birds in the trees if she stood very still.

It didn't have a metal grating or brown walls covered in circles nor did it have a soft, mechanical hum.

"Marion, there you are. I'd wonder when you'd turn up,"

It ALSO didn't have anyone but her in it at the time.

The man who had spoken was a tall man with spiky brown hair in a brown pinstripe suit.

He reached out a hand towards her and she, on reflex grabbed him by the arm and flipped him on his back.

"Who the hell are you? Why do you know my name? And where is this? People are going to know if I'm missing you know," Marion shouted.

"Is this the first time you're meeting me then?" The strange man in the pinstripe suit said, seeming unphased by the fact he was on the ground with her knee pressed into his back. This was not an answer to her question.

"What kind of question is that?" she said, getting up and backing away.

"Doctor, she did say that the next time we met would be the first time for her. She's clearly young. Look at her hair," another person in the room said. She was a pretty woman, with long, dark-colored hair and warm brown skin.

"What are you-" her eyes caught something and she trailed off, not believing her eyes.

It was a large hexagon shaped panel and covered in buttons and switches and knobs. In its center, a large tube glowed slightly green,

"What the..."

Marion finally got a good look at her surroundings.

"No," she said. This was NOT the TARDIS no way, no how. That was impossible.

"Yes!" the man who she flipped said getting up. Seemingly unphased by her actions.

"This can NOT be rea!l" Marion said.

"I'm afraid that it is"

"That's nonsense!"

Marion had gone through a phase in which she was highly interested in lucid dreaming. The forums always mention little tests that one could perform to see if it was really reality. She decided to try some of them. Marion counted her fingers. Ten. She counted them again, still ten. She attempted to press her finger through her palm. Nothing. None of the reality tricks showed signs of her being asleep.

Marion considered the implications of this. There were three possible answers.

She was being kidnapped by some weirdo who thought that if they dressed like the Doctor, she would go along with them.

She was being kidnapped by some weirdo who legitimately thought he was the Doctor.

She was in the TARDIS and had somehow left her universe and this was the Doctor.

These options were all upsetting even if for different reasons.

Which is why she turned towards the doors and started to leave.

"Nope", she said under her breath "absolutely not,"

"Where are you going Marion" the man in the pinstripe suit called after her.

"Away from here. Either you're a weirdo pretending to be the Doctor or actually the Doctor. Either way, I can't deal with this right now," She didn't bother asking how he knew her name. That wasn't important.

"I really am the Doctor" the man pretending to be the Doctor shouted. He seemed...not panicked at the idea of her leaving, but it was obvious that he did not want her to go.

"Prove it,"

"I've got two hearts!", he reached out to grab her hand. She moved farther away from him.

"Nice try dude, I'm not letting you that close to me unless I can get some answers out of you,"

"Then open the door and see," he responded flippantly.

"Fine! I will then," she threw open the doors to find nothing. The dark black abyss speckled with billions of white dots. Stars. Space. She was in space.

"Wha..." she said, baffled. "Is this some kind of VR thing? Are there a bunch of screens outside here or something,"

"I knew that you'd be skeptical, but I didn't think you'd be this bad," the man said.

"Doctor, the Associate did tell us that she'd be this way. Remember the message she left?" The woman with long black hair said.

"What message? What Associate?" Marion said, closing the doors once more.

"The message! OH, Right, the message, the message," He moved away from Marion and, rather than answer her question, retrieved something from inside his coat. He pressed it against the "TARDIS" console until it buzzed.

Before she could take another step, a projection appeared in front of her.

She was perhaps an inch taller than Marion (although that might've been her thick-soled shoes). And her hair reminded Marion of the tortoiseshell cat a friend had found outside his house once: primarily dark brown with patches of blonde and light brown all over her head. The skin on her hands, around her neck, and around her right eye was slightly discolored and overly smooth. It looked too even to be scar tissue, and more resembled pigmented vertigo.

One of her eyes, the right one had a slight orange tint to it, and the pigment shifted slightly as if the iris were a cup of water that a brush-covered in orange paint had been placed in. But disregarding those differences, Marion knew who this was. She recognized the body language, the way the projection stood, how her hands moved with her speech and how despite being stationary, the projection's legs moved as if she were pacing. And she recognized the voice from recordings. It was her own.

"Hello Marion," the projected woman, "I'm you, from the future"

Marion was doubtful. Sure the lady looked like her, and moved like her, and sounded like her but there was probably enough footage of her on Instagram and the like for a dedicated so-and-so to make a hologram deep-fake of her...

"Prove it," Marion demanded.

"You have a crush on Sky from Intro to Modern History. Their hair looks super soft and they have the prettiest eyes you've seen in your life," the projection said.

Marion hadn't told anyone that. There was absolutely no way for a person to know that. This had to be some kind of weird dream right?

"This isn't a dream, it's all real. As you've probably already figured out, I'm you. This won't be the first or last time that you or...I mean I..or we communicate to past or future versions of ourselves. To make it simple, the older of us from our personal timeline is the Associate and the younger one is Marion. Otherwise, it gets confusing,"

"What's going on? Why am I here?"

"Marion, I'm a recording. I can't hear you. I CAN, however, remember vaguely what I said when I was in your shoes. Listen up, I'll answer everything I need too," said the Associate's projection.

"What's goin-"

The projection cut her off.

"Once again, I can't hear you. Anyway, you're not in your universe anymore Marion. That spikey-haired pinstripe nerd is the Doctor and the really cool looking woman with him? That's Martha Jones. And you? You've got a mystery to solve! Why are you here? How did you get here? I know the answer to one of those and you'll have to learn it yourself!"

"Do I have to stay here?"

"You need to stay with the Doctor. It's very, very, very important that you do. I can not stress this enough. If you aren't with the Doctor...I can't tell you any more, just try to stick around with him okay?"

"Why can't you just tell me?"

"Because when I was Marion, the Associate didn't tell me,"

"Why is that?"

"Because when you're in a universe where you know nearly everything, it's nice to have at least a little something you still have to figure out on your own right? Here is what I can tell you: at least until you get to be my age, everything is going to work out so don't stress it!"

The projection blinks out for a second or two.

"Oh shoot, I almost forgot! Who has two thumbs and the ability to experience the Doctor's timeline in chronological order? Not us!" the Associate punctuates this statement with finger guns and blinks away.

If there was any doubt regarding the projection's identity, that solved it. It was definitely herself.

The thing he placed falls over and the Doctor picks it up and hands it to her,"

"Here you go. Sonic Pen,"

"Thank you I guess,"

"You ought to thank the Associate. She looked in the mirror and realized that she recognized herself from that message you saw and frantically finished making this before she disappeared left. You left it to the last minute apparently,"

That sounded pretty on-brand for her.

"Why a pen and not...?"

"A screwdriver? The Associate told me not to tell you that. The pen is supposed to be a reminder of something that you learned and didn't want to forget, but you also didn't want it told to you. The Associate said, and I quote 'Doctor, when I figured it out myself, I felt amazing. I don't want to take that realization away from Marion. Just give it to her. She'll figure it out.'"

Marion examined it. It resembled a pen in much the same way that a sonic screwdriver did not resemble a screwdriver. It was slim and made from some kind of silvery metal. It had a clip on its side so she could put it on her clothes or in her pocket without it getting lost and a small button on top of the clip. There was an orange crystal and a round hole in the center of it. She pressed the button on the other end of the pen and found that this pen could actually function as a pen. She pressed the side clip down and the orange crystal glowed softly as the whole pen made a buzzing noise. She pressed it a couple of times. And then pressed the button on the back of the pen to see what color the ink was, and suddenly she began to write.

Like many girls, Marion had gone through a paranormal phase. Holding onto the pen felt a bit like automatic writing as she almost unconsciously began writing citrine colored words in the air.

"She didn't even say anything to me. She just looked around, panicked, and tried to leave,"

"Well Martha, you can't blame her. She's in a strange place that seems unreal. It's not shocking that she'd hyperfixate on one thing. You know how she is,"

A few realizations hit Marion one after another.

First, that the pen was auto transcribing words in the area.

Second, that the conversation that it was transcribing was happening in real-time.

Thirdly, that Martha and the Doctor were talking about her.

And Finally, that she was being a bit rude.

"Shoot. Martha. I'm so so sorry. I know you've met me but I think I should still introduce myself. My name is Marion Henson and it's lovely to meet you," Marion stuck out her hand to shake. Martha took it.

"It's fine. The Associate told me that you'd be a little off when we met you,"

It was going to be interesting to get used to people casually talking about a future version of yourself.

"I'm still 30% sure that this is some kind of dream but on the off chance it's not, I'm not going to be rude to you," she said bluntly, she turned to the Doctor, "well then, where are we off to now"

"You'll see", he said, turning a lever. The TARDIS stopped.

"There we go, perfect landing, which isn't easy in a tight spot," the Doctor said opening the door.

"The two of you should be used to tight spots by now. Where are we" said Martha.

"The end of the line, no place like it,"

Martha walked out of the TARDIS and found herself in her room.

Marion followed behind her. Looking at the box she exited from 'Well, I can cross out some lunatic who thinks he's the Doctor at least.' she thought, looking around it.

"Home", Martha breathed, "you took me home!"

"In fact, the morning after we left, you've only been gone 12 hours. No time at all really"

"Trust me, Martha, he can and has done much worse," Marion said.

"But all the stuff we've done. Shakespeare, New New York, Old New York?"

"Yep, all in one night, relatively speaking. Everything should be just as it was. Books, CDs, laundry. So back where you were, as promised. "

"This is it," said Martha,

"Yeah, we should probably er,"

Just then the phone began to ring.

"It's your mom on the phone," Marion said.

"Hi I'm out, leave a message," said the recording of Martha.

Martha's mother's voice came through the speaker.

"Martha, are you there? Pick it up, will you?"

"How did you know it was my-"

"Shh, she's about to say something interesting"

"All right then, pretend that you're out if you like. I was only calling to say that your sister's on TV. On the news of all things. Just thought you might be interested," Martha's mom's voice said through the speaker,

Martha turned on the TV to see Tish, next to her, a man was talking..

"...the details are top secret,".

"How could Tish end up on the news?'' Martha thought aloud.

"Tonight, I will demonstrate a device that will redefine our world," The man, who from what Marion remembered was called Lazarus spoke from the TV. He looked vaguely like an annoying great-uncle who ruins Thanksgiving every year with his awful takes on immigration that make everyone (especially your brother's new girlfriend) rather uncomfortable and is only allowed to come because the dinner is hosted at his house every year.

"She's got a new job. PR for some research lab"

"With the push of a single button, I will change what it means to be human," Lazarus announced.

"Professor! Professor!" called the press.

Martha turned off the TV and turned to the two of them.

"Sorry, you were saying that we should..."

"Yes, yes we should. One trip is what we said"

"Mmm. These things seem to happen to me a lot,"

"Thank you for everything, it was my pleasure. Let's go Marion," said the Doctor.

"Alright" she replied to the Doctor. To Martha, she whispered, "Give him a second, we'll be right back,"

She followed him into the TARDIS and stood by the door as then tell-tell grinding for dematerialization sounded and just stared at him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm missing something obvious. You always get that look in your eye and just sort of stare at me until I figure it out myself.

"I do?" she asked. She for a second had almost forgotten that assuming he was telling the truth and that projection of her future was legit, he'd known her for a while. She wondered just how long.

"What am I missing?" the Doctor said under his breath, his hands in his hair.

"Give it a second, Doctor,"

The Doctor froze for a moment, and then it was like a lightbulb blinked overhead. He turned back to the TARDIS console and piloted it back to Martha's bedroom seconds after they left and he walked out followed by Marion

"No, I'm sorry. Did he say he was going to change what it means to be human,"

Marion: Wowee. I can't wait to have fake adventures in the Universe of Doctor Who :D

Universe: Shoot did she say "fake"?

Next Chapter: What Can and Can't Be Foretold

A curtain rises. ACT One is about to begin. What is the story about?

This is a story about a human woman from the Mid-Atlantic Coast of the United States of America who suddenly found herself from nowhere.

This is a story about strength: both metaphorical and physical.

This is a story about meeting people in a-chronological order.

This is a story about an "Associate" and their "Doctor"

This is a story about weird outfits and the light-hearted mockery gotten from friends when you wear them.

This is a story about the motivational powers of friendship, determination, and spite.

This is a story about being offered two bad options and saying "screw you, I made a third".

This is a story about knowing you can't save everyone, but still making sure you can say you tried.

This is a story about nicknames.

This is a story about time.

This is a story about space.

This is a story about a universe.

Most of all...

This is a story about a human woman called Marion Henson.