Well, I suppose I should start by letting you know just what I'm going to be telling you about. This is the story, more or less, of just how this human got her hands on a TARDIS. It's really not all that long of a tale, the stories of where I've been after wards would take longer, but most people usually prefer for me to start at the beginning. I suppose the beginning for me, was when I realized that my, erm, anomaly, was perfectly capable of getting me in contact with Doctor Who's reality. What point, having my very existence erode the fabric down to nearly nothing, if I couldn't use it to meet my heroes? Or, rather, accidentally end up too early to meet my hero, instead ending up on his not-quite-dead-yet planet.

I had planned to pop in on Earth, Cardiff to be more precise, but a slight miscalculation landed me on Gallifrey instead. The Last War had yet to be fought, in fact, the Doctor had yet to even come about. My hero simply didn't exist. Yet. But I did end up being chased by the people who liked to give him a hard time, in regards to his meddling. Such silly people, being all upset about a human being in a human free zone, when something so very horrible is looming just over the horizon. Not literally of course. If there's yet to be a Doctor, then the War to end it all is quite a ways away.

So, there I was running for my life through the streets of the Citadel, marveling at the majesty of it all between frantic puffing breaths, when I ran right into a Greenhouse of sorts. Not into the building, literally, of course. Rather, I ducked through the doors and rolled underneath a work table. My pursuers thundered right past the doors, not having seen my clever ruse, and I rolled back out into the open feeling very clever indeed. And my eyes lit up even brighter when I saw just exactly what it was being grown in the Greenhouse. There were TARDIS' you see, in various stages of growth, and a few still in seeds. Of sorts. I wandered up and down the rows, stroking a few here and there. The ones who didn't radiate obvious disapproval.

And here's the part that I'm still trying to make sense of. Apparently the thing that had yet to be explained in the show was how, if the TARDIS is a living being who's also sentient to a certain degree, was stolen, then how could the Doctor pilot her? To an extent. How, in fact, could he steal her if she made it quite clear during The Edge of Destruction that he couldn't touch the controls without her consent? Theft is actually quite difficult if the object of said theft is administering electrical shocks whenever you come in contact. But then, it was also made clear during The Christmas Invasion that the TARDIS and the Doctor have a very close bond. A very co-dependant one, in fact, judging by the way Rose lost the TARDIS' translations when the Doctor was in failing health. He even mentioned it in The Parting of the Ways, when he told Rose, via emergency protocols, that the TARDIS would eventually die without him there.

TARDIS' can, in fact, choose their own pilots. The Doctor's TARDIS chose him, when she allowed him to 'steal' her. And my TARDIS chose me, while she was still just a tiny little seed, when I brushed my fingers over her… uhm, makeshift pot-type-thing. I felt a burst of warmth, and affection, taken so totally by surprise that I found myself holding the pot before I had actually thought to pick it up. Glancing about the building, and wondering why I hadn't checked to make sure the coast was clear before, I tucked the pot under an arm. She hadn't even matured into the grand personality she would one day be, but she was already growing roots into my mind. Nay, into my very soul. To be a bit melodramatic. The problem, of course, was that I simply couldn't stay on Gallifrey long enough for my TARDIS, and already she was my TARDIS, to grow into the frankly magnificent timeship I knew she would be.

And what human knows of how to grow a TARDIS?

Every time the question came up, and the only real solution, to leaver her behind, was explored there was this sense of loss. Out of the question then, simply unacceptable. Having made up my mind that I was, indeed, about to steal my TARDIS from a very much advanced, fictional, species I gathered up what little wits I had left at this point and proceeded to make my get-away. Me and my TARDIS- my TARDIS and I?- on our very first journey. Oh, the excitement! And, as every one knows, every journey begins with a single step. Which I took at a running start, because the ridiculous people were still making a point of chasing after me. Silent alarms, when placed in buildings of great importance, say, a Greenhouse providing the populace with magnificent timeships, tend to go off when the door is opened.

Stolen technology, really, who would stoop so low?

Whistling innocently, praying that the reason why the Doctor asked Donna during the Runaway Bride whether she was human, was, in fact, because he couldn't tell, I walked along with a partially concealed TARDIS pot tucked under an arm. Just a young Gallifreyan out for a walk, nothing to see here. A pair of City Guard looking fellows ran past me heading in the opposite direction, barely glancing at me as they went, confirming my rather frantic guess, and I continued my leisurely stroll in the direction of the park I had landed in. Rather roughly, actually. My poor tail bone was still complaining about that. My musings were cut short as I heard the sounds of shouting coming from behind me. My 'double back and hope for the best' ploy had just been found out, apparently. Hurrying my unhurried steps, I searched for the large, segmented skid mark that betrayed my arrival. Let them puzzle over how it started seemingly from no where, since they were being all secretive. I just needed to find the point of entry, so I'd end up roughly in the same place I left from.

I wasn't looking forward to trekking home from god knows where, if I got it wrong.

Now, as I'm sure you've gathered from my tends-to-digress-to-a-rant style of explaining everything without actually taking the time to explain anything, my anomaly is of the reality eroding sort. Basically, my existence wears the fabric holding reality together down, and I have to consciously buffer it or things tend to slip through. Either from here, or there, and once something came through from seemingly no where, because when I tried to send it back nothing happened. That never happens, when I reopen the same hole the thing slips back. Or the someone. Occasionally it's a someone, a person who's had the bad luck to be standing in the space corresponding to where I'm standing. It was actually just recently that I decided to see if I could send myself through a hole I made.

So, back to finding my starting point. I followed the skid mark from where I remembered bouncing to a stop, back to where I first landed. Figuring that I must've been flying through the air to get up enough momentum to bounce along the ground for a good bit, I moved beyond the landing site a short ways and decided that was as good a place as any to try and get back. Glancing at the park's entrance for any signs of unwanted life, I stopped focusing on keeping reality together and let it dissolve into a less-than paper-thin film. Pushing my hand through the film, I felt a slight pop as it gave way and I slid through into my street. Not exactly where I started, which would be my bedroom, but close enough. With a mental twist and a good bit of concentration I closed the hole I'd made and left the Time Lords to wonder just exactly how I'd gotten away.

With my new little TARDIS seedling held against my chest, I bounced my way through the house and up into my room. I'd have to try and figure out how to finish this TARDIS growing business, but that would have to wait until I figured out where to grow it. I decided to try the backyard. Force fields work just as well as glass, for the sides of a Greenhouse.