First of all, this book.

I'm using it in a lot of different ways. I don't want you to get confused. This is how it's going to work.

If there's a number in front of it, it's a Rule.

This would be a rule.

This would be another rule.

Here's the third rule.

Pretty straightforward. Now, here's how I'll write an alien profile. These are the bad guys, and the profile will tell you how to handle them if you run into them.

Name: Species of alien./Planet: Their home world./Danger Factor (1 for not very dangerous, 5 for highly dangerous: 1-5

Description: Here, I'll tell you what they look like.

Weakness: I'll tell you what to do to stop them here.

Not too hard. I'll also write about different places and times.



Watch out for:

Last, I'll use this like a journal. I'm going to try and keep journal entries short.. I'll date this in TARDIS time (how long it's been for me since I've joined the TARDIS crew) and the time we were in, as well as telling you the location.

Years.Months.Days (since I joined the TARDIS)/ Day (that we were in)/ Planet

Why we were there/How it should have been/How it was/How it is now

Hope you can keep that all straight. Please, I have to ask that you do things that same way. It'll be too confusing for each companion to learn a new system!

Now, I'll start with what I know while I'm writing this...

-From the Companion's Guidebook.

Megan quickly found out that mentioning Rose Tyler to the Doctor was a very bad idea. He didn't speak to her for the rest of the day. It was like she didn't exist.

Well, she could deal with that. Two could play that game, and she was very skilled at it. It came from being the oldest of four children. As far as she was concerned, he didn't exist either. He could save a few worlds without her help and see how he liked it.

That was what he did. Three days—TARDIS days—she ignored him. She could have dragged it out much longer if something quite unexpected hadn't happened.

It was after a particularly long wait as he went out to save some remote part of the universe. She was leaning against the console, wondering what was taking him so long, when the doors opened. The Doctor came in, his head drooping, limping rather badly. Megan bit back of cry of dismay. She wasn't terribly happy with him right now, but he was obviously hurt, and she didn't want that. She wanted to kick herself. This was her fault! What were companions supposed to do if not help the Doctor, stop this from happening?

"Are you okay?" she asked, running over. He was holding his arm at an odd angle, too. "What happened?"

"My arm hurts," he whimpered, looking up at her with big, sad puppy eyes. "And I think I sprained my ankle."

She pushed her hair back. "Alright. Can you hold your arm out?"

He tried to stretch out his right hand, and yelped. He tried again, but this time he used his left hand for support. Megan grabbed his arm and held it up. "You can let go now."

He did. "What are you doing?"

"Tell me if this hurts," she said.

"It hurts already."

"I know." She moved her other hand up his arm. He sucked in a breath. "I'm sorry. I have to."

Suddenly, he howled. She let go. "That hurts," he said weakly.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I want you to grab your arm and hold it as close as you can, like this." She held her own arm tightly against her chest. "Can you do that?"

He nodded and did so. She moved to sit next to his hurt foot. "This is probably going to hurt, so brace yourself. It shouldn't be too bad." She pushed up his trouser leg and starting unlacing his shoe. Then, she stopped. "You know what? Wait here."

She stood and went to the kitchen to make some tea. "TARDIS," she said aloud, "I need something that'll make him sleep."

A cabinet opened, and she looked through it. After a moment's searching, she found what she was looking for. "Thank you," she said, patting the cabinet door as she closed it. She didn't know much about living ships, but it seemed like a good idea to keep the TARDIS happy. She read the instructions on the back of the bottle aloud. "Use one teaspoon only. Larger amounts may cause heavier sleep, lack of sensation, blah, blah, blah..." She poured somewhat more than a teaspoon into a cup, then filled the rest of the mug with tea. "There we are."

She carried the mug back to the Doctor. "Can you hold that with one hand?" she asked, then changed her mind. "No, you have to hold your arm. Here." She held the tea out and tipped the cup slightly.

He frowned. "Is there anything in it?"

"There's tea, of course."

"I meant, did you put anything in the tea?"

"Course not," she said, a little too definitely.

"Nothing? Nothing at all?"

"Is there something I specifically shouldn't put in it?"


She blinked at him. "Well, what is it? I don't want to poison you."

"You definitely didn't put an aspirin in it?"

She frowned. "Are you allergic?"


"Then why, Doctor, would there be any aspirin on your ship?"

"There isn't."

"Where would I have gotten aspirin?" she asked, annoyed.

"You could have brought some," he pointed out.

"Well, yes." She hadn't thought of that. "I suppose I could have. But I didn't."

"How do I know?"

"Doctor, if there was aspirin in the tea, I would have already gone and dumped it out. I'm not going to murder you. The tea is perfectly safe."

"But is there something in it?"

She sighed. "Yes. It's not going to kill you. It'll make you fall asleep, that's all. I found it in the TARDIS."

"Why do I need to go to sleep?" he asked.

She closed her eyes and counted silently to ten. He was really wearing on her patience. "I need to see if your arm is broken. If you're conscious, you'll be in intense pain."

"Oh." He leaned forwards and drank some of the tea.

"Have all of it, or it won't work." She poured the rest of the tea into his mouth. He swallowed.

"Tastes funny," he mumbled. " Something I cant remember." He looked up at her. "You don't look like Rose..."

"Rest," she said, and his head fell onto his chest.

She grabbed his arm, forcing his fingers to open, and tested the spot where she'd touched to make him howl like that. It gave. His arm was definitely broken. She wasn't sure how to deal with that, so she moved on to check his foot. After pulling off his shoe and sock, she saw it was nothing serious, just a sprain. She decided to use a long bit of fabric (she found an old tatty sheet in the closet) and bind his arm up as tight as she could.

When she'd done that, she went and got the blue notebook. She was going to have to find some way to carry it with her. She couldn't just go running back to her room every time she needed to reference it.

She sat down against the console and began to read.

"Rose Tyler," she asked the pages, "what have I done? How can I fix it?"

The rustle of the pages was like an answer, but she didn't understand it any more than she understood the quiet hum of the ship around her.