Doctor Who: The Future of the Timelords by DD Agent
After watching the excellent series finale of 'New Who' Series 3, I decided to start this on going Doctor Who saga. It's a shot in the foot really, as I have so many outstanding projects, but I just couldn't resist this little one. Kirsten Smith is my creation, as is her workmates and relations. However, all the Doctor Who and Torchwood characters belong to the wonder that is BBC Wales and RTD.
Hope you enjoy and review if you like. Spoilers up till The Last of the Timelords (3.13). The story is set about April 2008, just when Series 4 should be starting. I've only watched New Who, so if I have anything wrong concerning Old Who, please forgive me and let me know. With that said, lets continue on to the story! Allons-y!
Kirsten Smith had a broken leg. She knew that. The doctor knew that. Why she was being ridiculed to a mass amount of tests was anyone's guess. Apparently, they had found an infection in her blood work, one that they had to check out. Kirsten personally thought that they had been watching too much House, M.D. and were trying to find something out of nothing.
A friendly woman came up to her cubicle: her skin and hair dark and beautiful. Her nametag said she was 'Martha Jones'. Kirsten shifted up to the head of her hospital bed, expecting more results and yet again more tests. Thank god she was still with the NHS and didn't have to pay for them. A while ago, she had nearly been talked into joining some private medical firm.
"Hi Kirsten, my name is Martha Jones and I'm going to be your doctor for a bit until they get the results back from the blood cultures,"
Kirsten just nodded. She was a very silent person, and she often didn't say anything unless it had to be said. When she got her migraines (which were on a regular basis), she could only use the basics. Kirsten guessed she must have adopted her habit into her every day speech.
"I just need to get some background history. Is that okay?"
"Does anyone in your family have at present or in the past had any major illnesses?"
"Don't you know?"
"Raised by someone else,"
"Something like that. Can I go now? It's just a broken leg for gods sake," Kirsten asked, noticing the red haired doctor on the edges of her vision.
"I just need the blood work back from Doctor Murphy and then we can let you go," Martha replied, following Kirsten's gaze and seeing that very doctor.
Martha went over to Murphy, just out of earshot of the patient. The blood work was clean, whatever anomaly was there before had disappeared. She hadn't been briefed on what the problem was exactly, so Martha had no idea why they had kept someone so long with just a break in their bone. Looking back over to Kirsten, Martha noticed her fiddling with some sort of chain around her neck. She thought nothing of it and returned to Doctor Murphy. But something in the back of her brain urged her to look again. Kirsten Smith was sitting in her hospital bed, fiddling with a key around a piece of straggly string. A key which had a small chip embedded in it. The same sort of key which the Doctor had given to her and Jack just before they had taken down the Master.
Dr. Murphy didn't noticed Martha's shocked face; instead he proceeded to Kirsten's bed and told her she could leave. But only with a pair of crutches. Kristen stood up and hobbled to the doors at the edge of the ward, but Martha followed. She knew her patient was desperate to get out of the hospital, but she still had a few queries to ask of her.
She turned round to face Martha who looked like she had a question. With a raise of her eyebrows, Kirsten indicated that she wanted Martha to continue.
"Where did you get that key?" Martha asked, her legs starting to shake with anxiety. It couldn't be the same key. It just couldn't.
"I've had it since I was a child," Kirsten replied, knowing that a shrug wouldn't alleviate Martha's curious questions.
"What does it open?" Martha pressed.
"God knows. Is that all?" Kirsten asked, just as one of the nurses brought over a pair of crutches for Kirsten to balance her injured leg on.
And Martha let her walk out. She had no choice. She so wanted to talk to her, to tell her what she thought the key opened and the magical time she had travelling around in it. But she couldn't. The Doctor, if he ever came back and found out, would never forgive her. Torchwood may be on the good side with Jack in charge, but there was still UNIT. And UNIT were still gung ho about aliens, especially the Doctor.
What Martha didn't know was that shortly she was going to see a lot more of Kirsten Smith.
Kirsten stumbled out of the taxi and hobbled over to the building that she called work. The Tyler Historical Centre, funded and founded by a Welsh organisation called Torchwood was an impressive building, standing three stories high and about two houses wide. It was a museum of obscure artefacts that held a library of weird and wonderful books and hosted a laboratory monitoring the timeline.
For Kirsten had a gift. Some people could go into their kitchen and immediately sense that something was out of place. The twenty- six year old could instantly sense on the moment she woke up whether something was wrong with time itself. The first time it had happened, she had ignored the nauseating feeling. And then her ten-year-old stepdaughter to be Maddy brought in a play of Shakespeare's that had never been written. It was at that moment she had known that she was different.
Nodding at the receptionist Doris, Kirsten used the lift to go up to her office on the top floor. As she hopped to the beige painted room, the historian noticed that there was a message waiting for her on her answer phone.
"Hi Kirsten. This is Ianto Jones from Torchwood. I just wanted to let you know that the 'CEO' here, Jack Harkness, will be calling later to day to check on the timeline. I know you usually call if there is any problem, but he just wants to make sure. Thank you and good luck with the fundraiser on Saturday."
Kirsten deleted the message from the machine, instead opting to go through her post. They had been on strike again, and so there had been a significant back up of letters and packages.
"…my name is Martha Jones…"
Kirsten thought back to the doctor at the hospital. A year ago, Martha Jones had been a legend. Now, she was just a doctor working at some random London Hospital. The year that never was, oh Kirsten remembered that. She had spent most of it stuck in the basement, her head pounding and throwing up. It had been a massive change in the timeline, one that had nearly driven her insane.
The day passed without further incident, and Kirsten made her way home to the house she shared with her fiancé Bradley. His daughter Maddy from his first marriage (his wife had been killed in the Cybermen attack) lived there too: it was like one big, happy family.
As she walked down the street, the key around her neck began to hum. It didn't happen very often, just on occasion. It hadn't stopped humming around eighteen months ago, and then stopped just as quick as it had begun. Grumbling about the family heirloom she had around her neck, a shiver went up her spine. Turning around, she saw the blue box.
It was standing in the middle of the road, yet no one could see it. Kirsten walked up to it and stroked the wood on the edge, smiling as it trembled beneath her fingers. The key around her neck hummed insistently, and Kirsten was about to slide her nails underneath the door to open it but stopped. Someone's mobile rang, breaking the mood.
Turning away from the blue box, she trundled back home. It was stored away in the caverns of her knowledgeable mind, ready to be brought out later. The door to the box opened and a man stepped out. Black trousers, white shirt, black leather jacket. He watched her go and smiled to himself. The Doctor would have to be told about the girl, but not before he had a chance to meet her himself. She had a key to the Tardis, and that was worth investigating by itself. All he had to do now was loosen the chains.
Kirsten put the key in the lock and was met by her partner. Bradley encircled his arms around her and she shrugged into his scent, smiling at the familiarity of it all.
"Have a nice day?" Bradley asked.
"It was fine apart from the broken leg," Kirsten mumbled, leaning on Bradley in an effort to get to the sitting room. She found that the leg hurt less than it had this morning, and she could walk well on her own.
Sitting down in one of the green armchairs, Kirsten was joined by Maddy on her lap. The evening passed with a film on the tele, a takeaway in the kitchen and eventually bed. As Kirsten looked out of the window, she noticed a man leaning against a lamppost. He didn't seem to be doing anything except loiter on her street. Coming to the conclusion that he was just waiting for someone, Kirsten crawled into bed beside Bradley and fell asleep. She couldn't have known that tomorrow morning would bring a new life, a new family, and one hell of a ride compared to her somewhat suburban existence.