Oh my word, it's a Doctor Who fanfic! O.O But yes, the idea just popped into my head and I thought I'd write it out. :) It should be updated at least once a week (I have a few chapters written already) if not stated otherwise. :D So, why don't you take a comfy seat, sit back, and enjoy the ride? :)
Some notes for you: It'll be a bit AU, just to warn you (of course it will be with an OC ;) ), just kind of more switching some things around is all (does that count as AU? I'm just not sure. D: ) in the Doctor Who world. I will say now: I did kind of insert myself into this as the OC, as many of her experiences are mine, as I thought it'd be a different kind of story. :) It's not as if the Doctor falls for her right off the bat, or she turns out to be a Time Lady (have read many of those fics, of which many are good, so I'm not at all saying bad about them, so don't take it that way), but I just wanted to do something different. :) Also, it's not a typical adventure kind of thing where she hops in the TARDIS and off they run. Yes, there will be some of that, of course, just not right away. :) So, I hope you give it a chance and enjoy it immensely. :D
But what am I doing babbling on? Let's start the fic!
Oh, and I of course don't own the Doctor Who, as I probably would have convinced David Tennant to stay on as the Doctor for a little while longer. ;) (not to say I don't enjoy the Matt Smith, but I love my Ten :) ) Writing this is just for my own enjoyment. Hoorah!
Running is what he did best, and running was what he did most. It was also what he was doing right at that moment. Running down a long hospital hallway, trying to escape the brutal police force, these merciless beasts known as the Judoon. A police force who had stolen said hospital and placed it on the moon to find an alien fugitive. No, not him. A Plasmavore, actually. One that went by the name Florence Finnegan. Whom, at that moment, The Doctor was trying to locate as well, who he could have found quite easily, probably. That was before a Judoon scanned him and found he was a non-human as well, mistaking him for the culprit. So here he was, as always. Running from a problem and trying at the same time to find an answer to it.
He did stall a few by doing a genetic transfer, which some would honestly mistake as "kissing" with Martha Jones , leaving traces of his DNA to confuse them. But that didn't stop all of them. No such luck for the Time Lord.
Ducking behind a corner, catching his breath for a brief moment, thanking an unknown someone for finding a corner. Soon peeking around the corner, he swiftly retreats, spotting the bulky rhinoceros humanoids marching down the long hallway toward him, hearing bits and pieces of their orders to find the 'tall skinny, non-human' for execution. How did he get himself into this mess?. . . How did he get himself into any of the messes he gets into, really? He sighs as he perfectly well knows that answer.
He hears their clomping footfalls coming nearer and nearer, knowing full well that they would be there in about 27 seconds, by his estimate, anyway. Eyes darting about excitedly for an escape route; he spotted a door to another patient balcony. Making a quick dash to the door, he just makes it outside, ducking down below the window, hearing their footfalls bustle by, his mind buzzing at what his plan was going to be.
"Okay. Wait patiently (so hard to do) for four/five minutes, give or take a few seconds, yes, that sounds about right. That should be enough time for the all clear, then it's back to finding Mrs. Finnegan." he speaks with himself, making out the plan, which he thought was as good as it was going to be in the situation he was in.
Hearing the footsteps pass, still waiting for that little bit of time to tick by; he looked around the balcony, seeing it was much like the previous he and Martha had stepped on. This one though, it had a bench, and to the Doctor's surprise, someone sitting on said bench.
This person's feet were tucked under her (he could plainly see that this was a female from the body shape), head bent low toward her lap, long dark brown hair hiding her face as her medical bracelet clad hand skittered back and forth quickly on what appeared to be a book of some type. Craning his neck a bit closer, he discovered that the book in question was a sketchbook. He couldn't help but wonder about her. How could he not when her behavior was the exact opposite of the whole hospital?
Hearing the Judoon footsteps down the hallway now, he decided to take a chance. Standing, stepping closer to the mystery girl that was sitting on the bench, he smiled.
"Hello!" She jumped at the sudden greeting, hand going to her chest as she appeared shocked, looking about quickly, spotting the Doctor after a second, him seeing her heave out a great sigh, probably of relief.
Looking up to the Doctor's face, looking him in the eyes, he saw her sigh again, a hand running through her hair quickly seeming to still be a bit surprised at his sudden appearance.
"Hi?" She said unsure in a small voice that didn't sound of a local accent. This made him smile wider.
"So," he started, thrusting his hands deep within his coat pockets, studying this girl on the bench a tad closely, his smile fading away as he spoke, "Large rhino like creatures are causing pandemonium in the hospital, everyone going into hysterics, and yet, here you sit in a seemingly calm demeanor, outside, no less. Didn't you think you'd suffocate out here?"
She bit her lip, seemingly in thought. She looked away a second, clearing her throat before she went on, "Honestly. . . no. A hospital sealed for outer space seemed very unlikely," the Doctor nods at this, impressed, "So something must be protecting it. Took a chance and here I am." she smiled a small smile at him, this making his smile return.
Her eyes looked back down at her sketchbook for a moment, the tip of her pencil going to rest on her bottom lip as if she had a thought, the Doctor taking a moment to study her features as she did this. She wore black framed glasses, the Doctor noticing that behind those specs were bright green eyes, them not hidden at all by them. She had a round face that was a bit chubby, he noting that she was a bit chubby all around, honestly, which really, wasn't a bad thing at all.
"So," She looks back at him, a questioning look on her face, "Your accent-"
"Yes, it's American." she says matter of factly, the obvious statement probably spoken countless times.
"Well anyone with an ear can hear that, don't be daft," he gets a bit of a disgruntled look on his face, asking seriously, "Was that rude? Sorry, anyway," He starts gesturing liberally with his hands as he tries to explain what he exactly means, "There's a bit of an accent there. . ." thinking momentarily, trying to place what he heard. He snaps his fingers, "Your O's! Your O's sound longer! Do you have some Swedish in you?"
"Well, yes I do, but why-"
"Norwegian too?" He interrupts as he starts getting excited, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.
"Yes, but really-"
"Scandinavian!" he claps his hands together as he figures it out. "Amazing people you are! So many inventions! Such scenery. Northern Lights, the Midnight Sun, the Polar Nights. Such a brilliant part of the Earth." he says wistfully as his gaze looks upon the invisible dome.
"What's the point of pointing out my nationalities?" He hears her say, also saying mostly to herself of how she hasn't even been there. Looking back down at a very confused looking girl . . . well, woman, it looked like. She looked young, though . . .
"Well," He draws out that 'well' to a very slow drag, his hands going back into his pockets as he starts his explanation, "Scandinavians typically are in the north of the states, mostly in the Midwest, so you'd be . . .?"
"From Minnesota." she finishes his sentence, him giggling after, grinning widely.
"Made you say 'Minnesota'," he waggles his eyebrows, this making her not help but smile, seeming to shake her head in disbelief, "Haven't met too many Minnesotan Scandinavians, though I don't especially go to Minnesota. Love that accent, that "O" just kind of bringing you in an embrace and welcoming you. Wish "Fargo" did it right and not use such a thick rubbish accent. Just not right."
"So," he continues with his smile still in place, knowing he's babbling a little bit (though when isn't he?), he walks over to sit on the bench, plopping down on the other end, his bare feet padding the cold ground as he starts his question, "What are you working on, oh woman of the great North?"
"Um..." at a loss for words, it looks, he takes this opportune moment to reach into his pocket for his glasses, slipping them on in an instant as she fumbles a tad with her sketchbook.
"I was . . . sketching the moon. The moon's surface, I should say." She answers a tad shyly, tilting the book toward him a bit unsure in her action. He studies the halfway done (what he presumes is halfway done) drawing of the moons surface, finding it quite amazing that she would even think to go and capture the moon's surface in such a predicament. He sees her biting her bottom lip once more out of the corner of his eye, deducting that it was most likely because of nerves.
"Fantastic." he compliments, on more than just the drawing, really.
"Thank you." she says with that shy smile again.
"Granted, a bit cartoon-y, and the Earth is a bit off, but - Oh, am I being rude again?" he looks to her, hoping he wasn't. She just smiles wider, chuckling.
"Maybe a smidgen, but I'd say you're being more honest than anything," this makes him grin, "And cartoon-y is what I do as I'm a bit of a cartoonist . . .Well, I'd like to be one of these days, anyway."
"What's your name?"
"Carla. What's yours?"
"Carla! Lovely name," she smiles a bit more at this, "I'm The Doctor."
"Doctor what?" his smile falters a tad as he doesn't hear the usual 'Doctor who'.
"Oh, you are different, that's for sure." He interrupts her with his grin reappearing in a matter of fact tone.
"And so are you, seeing as you're wearing a suit with no shoes." He looks down at his feet, looking as if he forgot. He looks back to her still with his grin. But then he giggles, making her raise an eyebrow quizzically at him, "What?"
"The way you said 'shoes'. It's brilliant." She just shakes her head a bit again, seeming to ignore that he was enjoying her Minnesotan accent a bit too much.
"So do you have a name, Doctor?"
"Nope. I'm just 'The Doctor'."
"Well, 'The Doctor'," she takes a second, blushing slightly, muttering more to herself, "That was such a stupid joke," Letting out a deep breath, she becomes a bit more serious once again, looking back into his dark brown eyes with those green ones, "You're making sure the patients are alright, yes?" Oh, she thought he was an actual doctor. . .Well . . . Shouldn't disappoint her. He just nods, bringing his hand up to his chin as if he were giving it some serious thought, "Well I'm fine. They scanned me, see?" she holds up her left hand for him to see the big "X", him nodding once again, "I'm human. Yay." She says with a bit of a fake cheeky grin, making the Doctor smile again, "So I'd be checking on other patients. Thank you, doctor for coming to check on me."
Her eyes trail back to the half finished drawing of the moon's surface, seemingly to absentmindedly make a stroke or two with her pencil, her eyes staring down at the page, the Doctor seeing that she wasn't especially focusing right then. Edging a tad closer, he asks in a very curious tone,
"Aren't you scared?" Her grip on her pencil tightens the slightest bit as she hears his question, eyes going back to his, such fear swimming in them, a hint of something else hidden there.
"Terrified," she utters barely above a whisper, "I mean, we could all be dead in a little bit from, from a number of things. Running out of air, a riot breaking out, th-those rhino people things . . . But . . ." that something else hidden in her eyes intensifies as she continues, "How can I just sit by, waiting for maybe the end when I have the chance to sketch the moon? The moon!" The Doctor knew right then what was in her eyes. It wasn't just fear, not by a long shot: It was excitement. It was passion and wonderment all rolled into one. He couldn't help the smile breaking out from seeing it.
"Took such a risk to travel, to move to London," she says more to herself, going back to the Doctor soon after, "But just look where I am, where we are. Even in my wildest dreams," she continues, gesturing towards the vastness out in front of them, "When am I ever going to have the chance to draw the moon in person ever again?"
"You'd be surprised." the Doctor retorts with a bit of a wink.
"Oh, nothing," He quickly says, hopping back up, Carla's eyes on him as he moves back toward the door, "Been about four minutes, give or take a few seconds, which is so much more than I should have risked. . ." He looks back at her as he slides his glasses off, placing them back into his pocket, giving her a grin as he places his hand on the door handle, "Carla, Scandinavian of the North. Keep at that." He gestures at her book, the door halfway open heading out already. . .
"Doctor?" he hears her call behind her, knowing full well that he should pretend that he didn't hear her, that he should keep going and locate the Plasmavore and help the entire hospital. . . He should, anyway. Turning his head back to the girl on the bench, seeing that her sketchbook was now on the bench itself, her torso turned toward the door as she called him. He turned around, giving his full attention.
"You'll probably be exceptionally optimistic as most doctors are, but I need to ask. . . Do you think we'll be alright?"
"I haven't the slightest clue." his smile wild with enthusiasm, she laughed at his answer, a tad of a throaty laugh emitting from her that he didn't quite expect.
"It's nice to hear a straight answer for once." her smile remaining from her laughter, a mournful look mixed in with her happy expression, "Really it is."
He should really go. Oh yes, he really ought to, he was running out of time fast . . .
So going back over to her; kneeling before her, looking right into her eyes, he offered his hands, wiggling his fingers a little bit as invitation to take hold. She does so, the Doctor holding her soft hands, noting a callus on her right, most likely from it being her hand she had been drawing with.
With a reassuring squeeze, he offers a smile, and utterly surprising himself, offers the truth as well, "Carla, I can't promise everyone will be safe, I can't promise you will be either. But I can promise that I'll do all that I can in my power to bring this hospital back to Earth and make sure nothing else terrible happens. Alright?" She nods with a small smile, giving his hands a squeeze back, "Brilliant. Now, you must get inside. It'll be safer in there." Another nod from her and one more hand squeeze from him as the word, "Good." fell from his lips.
His hands slipping from hers, giving her one last wide smile, and without another word spoken; he dashes away, not waiting for her to follow him, needing to run once again, once more running toward the fugitive Plasmavore to expose her, clear himself, and bring the hospital, and especially it's patients, home to safety once again.
And there we be! :D Thoughts? Outrages? Comments? About the Scandinavian/Minnesotan part and why he's so tickled about the accent: My beau is so terribly amused by my Minnesotan accent, that I thought the Doctor would be as well. :D So there you be.
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my first Doctor Who fanfic! Reviews would be ever so loverly (like writing the tenth doctor, does he seem . . . Doctor-ish enough?), so this fic can be as grand as it can be. :D
And there you go. Thanks everyone!