Chapter 1

I materialized between two abandoned buildings, in what looked like an old industrial suburb of a 20th century town. Or maybe 21st, I couldn't tell. A good Time Agent was supposed to be able to recognize the exact decade in which they had landed, thanks to the Time Agency's history class; but I had never really been a good Time Agent. (Thinking of it, it had been a miracle that I had managed to pass my exams and become a Time Agent. Maybe the fact that I had been involved with my history teacher back then had had something to do with it...)

Anyway. I didn't know when nor where I had landed exactly, but I was pretty sure it wasn't the 42nd century and the Wonderful Gardens of Asiria, where I was planning to go. So what the hell was I doing here?

I had the answer to my question when I looked at my left wrist: my vortex manipulator had gone dead. Like, completely dead. It wouldn't react, no matter what I tried. And stuck somewhere in the 20th century, I had no way to repair it.

Great, I thought. I am now stuck in the 20th century, with no way of leaving. This is going to be a hell of a long day…

Even the phone function of my manipulator had gone dead, which meant that I had no way of contacting someone. Well, I still had my communicator, but it couldn't call someone who wasn't in the same time as me, so it was pretty much useless in that situation.

I was thinking very hard to find a way to leave this century when I suddenly remembered the distress call function of my manipulator. Of course! Why hadn't I thought of this earlier? The distress call function had been created by the Time Agency: it sent a signal that could be picked up by any Time Agent, anywhere and at any time. The Agency had anticipated every situation, including the case of an Agent being lost at a primitive era ("primitive" meaning "pre-time travel" here).

I wasn't a Time Agent anymore, but I still had the time Agency's vortex manipulator, which meant I had this distress call function.

Except that when I wanted to activate it, nothing happened. I tried several times, refusing to give up – still nothing. Finally, a message appeared on the manipulator's screen. It read:

"Sorry, this function is not available right now. You will need to repair the vortex manipulator to access this function."

And the screen went black again.

I stared at it for several minutes, incredulous. The distress call function couldn't be activated if the manipulator was broken? But what was its fucking utility, then?! That function had been my last chance! And now I was stuck there for the gods knew how long…

I was calmly trying to evacuate my anger and frustration (read: "I was punching the nearest wall with all my strength while insulting it with my most creative curses") when someone caught my arm and said:

"Whatever your problem is, I doubt punching over walls will solve it."

I turned around and found myself face to face with a guy in his mid-thirties. He had neatly-cut brown hair, chocolate eyes, and even with his 70's look he was sexy as hell. Suddenly, my frustration was all but forgotten.

"Hello," I said with my brightest smile.

"You alright?" he asked, still holding my arm to make sure I wouldn't punch over walls again.

"Not really, but I feel way better now that I've met you," I answered with my most seductive voice. "My name's Tiffany Wolf, by the way; but you can call me Tiff. What's your name?"

"Sam Tyler," he answered. He seemed still worried for me: how adorable!

"Well, Sam – may I call you Sam? – what if we'd have a drink?"

"Wait, what?" He looked totally surprised.

"Come on! I'm the one who invite."

I took him by the arm and dragged him along. I noticed with amusement that he was shorter than me, especially with my high heels. Right now, with his confused look, he was really cute.

"So, where's the best place to have a drink nearby? I'm a bit new here, you see," I said.

"But we've only just met!" Sam protested, freeing himself from my gentle grip.

I looked at him in surprise.

"Yeah, so what?"

Oh gods, I always forgot how these 20th century guys could be hung-up… I sighed.

"I'd like to know you more 'cos I find you attractive, what's wrong with that?"

Oops. Perhaps I'd been a bit too direct: he looked even more surprised now.

"Okay, sorry, forget about that. I know it might be a little bit surprising when you first meet me. Was that too quick?"

"A bit, yeah," he said. "And usually that's rather boys who hit on girls like that."

This time, it was my turn to be surprised. I had totally forgotten that this wasn't like the 51st century; love and relationships were much more complicated in the 20th century than in my own time. I really should have paid more attention to history lessons, back to when I was a student.

"Okay, sorry. What if I bought you a drink to apologize for disturbing you, then?" I offered.

This might be very different from my own time, but there was no way I'd give up. I'd need to be patient with Sam, obviously, but it didn't matter; in my opinion, flirting was almost as good as sex.

"Oh, you didn't disturb me," he said. "You just… surprised me, that's all. But I'd do with a drink," he added hastily.

I felt a wide smile spread on my face. Maybe not this patient, after all. I beamed at him:

"So, where's the nearest nice pub?"


Hello everyone! So here's another story written at 2 a.m.

Let's be honest, I mostly wrote this because I liked the idea of a character who would flirt with both Sam Tyler and the Tenth Doctor.

I apologize in advance for how weird this story might become... I hope you'll like it nonetheless! ^^